Birth of a Book
Here is the foreword and first chapter, which will probably be changed a bit before being published, but to motivate myself to get cracking, and for you to see – especially for those who have been asking me for so long to write this story…
And so it is in life that if you are not growing you are dying, and if you are growing there are growth pains.
This is called life.
Somewhere in between there are moments of sheer joy, moments of madness, moments of overwhelm, moments of intense pain, moments when you wonder if all this living stuff is worth it, and moments when you know you would rather be here on earth living in your own imperfect body and life than anywhere else in the multi-verse.
There is an emotion called love, that seems to be the focus of everything – and this runs deeper and in so many different forms that the mere mention of the word leaves me reeling… reeling from the pursuit of it, the depth of it when you find it and the searing pain of losing it.
This is a story of love – the searching, the finding, the disillusion, the demise thereof and the birth of self-love. I am currently experiencing the labour pains of the birth of self-love, and fear I cannot be wheeled into theatre, knocked out with anaesthetic and come around to hold it in my arms, aided by the numbing effect of morphine and pain killers.
No, this is going to be long and painful, and I will have to push when there is no strength or will left, but in the end it will be beautiful, and I hope this time around I know how to love and nurture this “baby”.
This is my story, and the telling of it the birth of self-love for me and hope for many.
That is my deepest wish. And the energy that this story carries, is written in my own way, in the way I want to say it, and written for ME and for YOU.
And it came to pass that on 4 November 1962, a baby girl was born. It was a Sunday.
She was too young to know the nature of her conception, whether she was wanted or a mistake, or what the emotions of her parents were at the time. Even as an adult she did not remember any of this at all, the memories buried deep in the recesses of her subconscious mind. Her parents never spoke of such things, and emotions were kept hidden, except for anger and disappointment, which were cuttingly delivered.
A Scorpio, life path 33/6*, inner self 15/6, soul urge 24/6. Yes, she was to focus on love, service and nurturing, with the cherry on the cake being the eventual self-love.
Little did she realise the price she would pay to learn this, nor of the ultimate happiness it would bring and the people she would meet along the way.
Painful, beautiful soul contracts.
Her names were Janet Lynn, and her genetic lineage an Afrikaans lineage – musical, political and journalistic, with some strong female figures on both maternal and paternal sides.
The lineage she identified with more, though, and the energies that coursed through her veins, were of a totally different nature, stemming from her maternal grandmother, whose maiden surname was des Ligneris. She was a fiery French mademoiselle who did not suffer fools gladly. She was wise and intelligent beyond her years, a fierce adversary if you ever crossed her path, and much of Janet’s childhood was spent with her. Janet attended political meetings with her, and at the age of around three years old was banned from attending political meetings.
I have not heard of anyone younger than this being banned from a political meeting ever!
Janet would lie on the floor under the tables as big political moves and campaigns were planned, colouring in quietly, as she was a well-behaved child, but her mind absorbed every bit of information and every conversation she overheard.
On one fateful day, she divulged this information to a curious “family friend” and all hell broke loose.
In the strong identification with this side of her heritage, lay a long history of marquees in France… combined with a Swiss heritage… and the battles of power fought over many generations added a warrior spirit to her usual gentle nature, which could be triggered and used in times of need. However, she both loved and feared this side of her, and was hesitant to use it. Probably due to an inner knowing of the fierce battles and loves and lives lost in the bloody wars involving politics and the church, of which she had documentation and genetic lineages dating back to 600 years after Christ.
In these DNA memories lay past-life dreams of bloodshed and pain… death… gladiator days fighting for people who turned their back on “him” when it mattered most, fighting to feed her children on the docks of London, taking monetary favours and abuse and prostituting her body and her soul; until in a fit of rage she was brutally killed by someone with whom she incarnated in this lifetime and had a near-repeat (but for the Grace of God) of the same situation playing out all over again… caring for horses used in the cavalry of Roman wars… Greek philosophy and a link with Merlin, who incarnated many times in various guises.
But also memories of immense power and beauty… handmaiden to the queen in Egypt, protected by a guard who was a brother crippled in a previous life by the very person her life was intimately entwined with in this present lifetime…
Too much to take in… and just so are my thoughts jumbled right now as I try to decide which way to start this book, which direction to take it in, and what the spirit of the book is going to be.
I want it to tell of what I have been through, merely as I have the urge to make my life count for something in the big scope of things, and to make a difference in the world in general, and to women in particular.
I want it to speak of triumph in adversary, and of the blessings given in the darkest and most painful times in life, and not to be a book of a “victim”, and I cringe even as I write that word, and so placing it in inverted commas makes me feel better. 😊
Oh, and this book will have emoticons and stuff, and plenty of elipses… as that is how I write, defying all rules of the English grammar and protocol that should be adhered to when writing a book.
It is my time to be my own person, and to claim every inch of it, including my preference of writing style.
I hope you enjoy this story as it unfolds. The end is not yet cast in stone, as I am living it as I write. And so, over the next few months, the story will emerge.
The content of this book is as much a mystery to me as it is to you at this point in time. I love mysteries! So, let’s find the pieces of the puzzle and all the clues and begin to put the picture together, solving the mystery as we go along.
It may not even be a mystery, as, like I said, I have no idea what I will write, but mysteries appeal to me and it makes my book sound more exciting, don’t you think? Lol!
*** The rest is yet unwritten…. 😊
Watch this space for publishing details in the not-so-distant future.