“The Divine Mother appeared in a vision and said, ‘When you save someone’s life, you take their karma.'”
Explosive, controversial, Mother of Light:The Book of Fire, Volume I, The Bardo is not like any spiritual diary you’ve ever read. With searing intensity, the author – writing under the pen name, Junipur – takes us over unknown landscapes, and into wilds of existence rarely seen. The quest leads us through territories as far-reaching as reincarnation, kundalini awakening, and initiation. There are supernatural battles with adversaries of the left-hand path, encounters with false masters, and much more.
But the scope of The Bardo is not only the far, the wide – you will also witness the sheer, vertical descent taken by one spiritual seeker, into the underground chambers of personal history, the complex geometry of family dynamic. It is here she is led to uncover, and ultimately release, the ancient hidden locks that bar the soul on its flight to the Light.
As the Age of Pisces comes limping to a close, and The Age of Aquarius begins, Mother of Light is a clarion call to a deeper purpose, a more uncompromising inquiry into matters most dear to the human heart – love, death, the transcendent power of Divine Grace and, finally, freedom for the spirit. This book is not for the sentimental, or the faint-hearted; but those who see the journey through to the end, will be forever changed.
Those who see the journey through to the end will be forever changed…
This book was written with the express permission of Mother Meera
A Look inside the book: Volume l The Bardo
Prologue
The Divine Mother appeared in a vision and said, “When you save someone’s life, you take their karma.”
What follows is a deathbed account, of a very strange time on earth. It’s a story of ancient curses and divine redemption, complete with black magic, demons, angels and saints. I suppose it will seem like a fairytale at times, and may stretch your limits of credulity. Yet, it is true.What is strangest of all is, I never recall wanting an unusual or exotic life. I was just trying to get from point A to point B, to find the rhythm for making life work. However, that is not what happened, at least not in the ordinary way. But I can see from the present vantage point, some halfway through, I am completely gratified by the excursion, and wouldn’t have changed a single moment. I recognize it as my very own life, because it has given me, what I now realize, was my heart’s desire. By this, I do not mean the seeking of high drama (though I have been accused of such) but that I yearned for those depths beyond the apparent world, not to be reached, except by a midnight crossing. Some midnights last for years; not all crossings are successful. In fact, we attempt, and fail, many times before we set foot on the other shore. The dangers are utterly real; mistakes can cost us future lifetimes.
One purpose for sharing the story is to serve as a cautionary tale, of what your own foolishness can get you.I must mention some of the reasons why I have avoided writing it down, for 10 or 15 years. Led Zeppelin said in one of their songs “Life is a tale that can’t be told.” I believe this firmly, even if the life in question maintains some common denominator with other human lives. But what of experience that leaves all shared language, and symbol behind? What if the pattern is non-linear? Here is a long, and often tortured dialogue with formless realms, where no words follow. By its very definition, it can never be communicated and, knowing this, my reluctance to make any attempt has been overwhelming. I still don’t think it can be done.It is also perverse, my unique aversion to bringing spiritual matters into the open, or discussing them in any fashion. Most of what you will read is being told for the first time. My passage has been one of extreme solitude; I am in disbelief to find myself compelled to come forth in this way. I know we are in the “New Age”, and a rebirthing of spiritual material is good and necessary, but many of us are aware, by now, of a dark side to it as well, and of a kind of spiritual promiscuity running rampant; what has not been said 1,000 times?It is treacherous to step into the already murky terrain of intuitive knowledge; what is true on one level, may be reversed, or irrelevant on another level. However, authentic spiritual fact is factual – sometimes more so than physical or historical fact – though the ascertaining of its quality can be very difficult, and we are always subject to errors of misunderstanding, or delusion.
Here is where the faculty of discrimination takes on a new, and vital importance. Thus, in the case of my story, rest assured the utmost care has been taken to be clear, and honest.I once had a friend, who confided she thought I was a very melodramatic character, at first. After we had known each other for a while, she said, “I came to realize you actually experience things differently than a lot of people.” I was not at all aware of the extent of such discrepancy when I was young, and so expressed myself without inhibition. I learned better, but what my friend said is probably true; experience is a fire for me, a burning thing, and it has always been so. Perhaps it is just this difference, driving the following testimony. Because it has been an intense life does not mean it has been exaggerated, and what I know to be conclusions have always been established by more than one source; that is to say, my intuitive knowledge has been confirmed by clairvoyant information, or vice versa. These conclusions have been further confirmed by dreams, and all have been verified in the passage of time.Still, I would rather not have been called into the fray, leaving all of it to others who are more naturally inclined. Why, then, do I write? Why should you take this journey? I hope it’s not for love of a story; every soul has a secret and mysterious story, peculiar only to itself, but as we progress in our practices, the fascination with that hypnotic drama flickers and wanes, as it must.
In fact, I was not even able to commit the parable to paper, until I had completely lost interest in its intoxicating details. Each tale, beautiful as it may be, is ultimately a stage of a rocket, and serves only to transport us into the beyond, from which all stories issue forth. Even so, we each require every possible support, and fellowship from others, as we aspire to those great realms. Someone once told me, I had created an exceptionally difficult road, because I wanted to forge very unusual tools. Now the time has arrived for me to share whatever of those I can; tools, not necessarily answers.In this introduction, I wish to make a few other comments on the many references to information received through clairvoyant readings. These are inherently annoying, so let me apologize in advance, though mention of these particles of knowledge cannot be avoided. In later years, I no longer sought outside intervention in any form, from psychics or even from literature, as it became completely distracting, and counterproductive. When I was younger, and my life proceeded ever deeper into the unknown, markers and maps left behind, there were many years when I was existing from one puzzle-piece to the next; I am only alive now, because of the tiny shafts of light granted me. I have met more than my share of frauds, and have suffered greatly from impure, or contaminated information. To be interpreted by an outsider is very dangerous; it will affect you in ways you could not anticipate, and should never be undertaken casually. But there are also clairvoyants of vast development and ability, who have the power to save lives with their sight.
Fortunately for me, I have encountered many of these as well, and portions of their wisdom have an important place in this book.You will find a profuse number of dreams, and visions included in this text, and, in many ways, these fall into the same category as the readings; that is to say, they were usually only sent, when my situation was perilous. You can gather from the sheer quantity, I was in dangerous water for a long time, indeed. The problem I encountered as I tried to weave these into flowing reading material is that, at the time of the occurrences, the dreams were presented not in a way apparently cohesive with my waking reality, but rather as non-sequitors. It was as if there were two separate lives – coexisting in different realms – connected only by fragile threads of communication. At destined moments, something akin to a “message in a bottle” would be transmitted from that larger identity to tiny, troubled me, giving a higher perspective, and hope of things to come.
While I was surely changed, and informed, with every visitation, my daily life remained an obscure and permanent midnight; I experienced mind-splitting confusion, for literally decades. All this was resolved much later. As you will see, there was an actual dual existence of some kind, striving for unification that has finally been initiated. But the narrative will make for abrupt reading, I fear. While writing of my experience as I understand it, a dream will be inserted here, a vision there, and I can only tell of returning to my life, almost as if nothing had occurred; thus, it seems to lack context. This is just how it went; the situation had to prevail for a duration of time, with seeds being sown far in advance of the ripening. I can only relay it as it happened.Please also keep in mind, I do not divulge these things to make any kind of particular impression; the hair is standing up on the back of my neck, even as I write.
These beams of light were sent primarily to save my life, which had no visible means of support on the physical plane. It should be read in this spirit.Finally, let me confirm what you may already suspect – I am not a writer, nor do I have a desire to become one. I will do my best not to insult the language too dreadfully, but this should not be approached as a literary piece, for that is not its intention. Instead, take these pages as a love letter, perhaps from some far-off place. The reasons for the sharing have become much greater than all the obstacles; if you have some patience with me, something good may come of it. Should you find yourself bending under the weight of what is put before you, take comfort in knowing, what has been left out, is more than what has been left in.So let me begin. One never knows when the moment will come for the fight to the death. One cannot know when one will be faced with the greatest of fear, or the test of many lifetimes. If nothing else, this is a guidebook for that time.