The Intimate And Decorative Interior Of Rosslyn Chapel In Lothian, Scotland.
Rosslyn Chapel
We arrived at The Original Rosslyn Hotel late that afternoon to glistening roads, green fields and window boxes of summer flowers. I was now pleased to be away from the 'energy' of Edinburgh and I was told by my guides, that whatever was there could not come here. I felt safe in Lothian, near Rosslyn Chapel. Also, while it now already seemed an event in my distant past, I was still reeling my experience at The Arthur Findlay College and the feeling of dead people. I never related to the energy.
Here, at Rossyln Chapel, was the energy of angels, and here I felt completely at home. Dinner with the group was quiet and a bit tense with no one appearing comfortable enough to open up. The main conversation was about food. I thrived on personal interaction and being obssessed with spiritual things I grew disappointed and distracted by the group of bike riders at the next table. I hoped that our group would relax a bit later on. Jamie had not helped matters by charging for dessert, when all meals were already included. He was an old hand at all the little rip offs.
The next day the group went for a walk to Roslin Castle and Roslin Glen. There were 'spirits' everywhere, particularly around the cemetery and there were fairies the glen. There were different spirits in different locations. I spent a good part of the day in and around Rosslyn Chapel. On the way to the chapel I was thinking about my dogs. I knew that dad and pop would be okay in the spirit world, because they could look after themselves. But I was concerned about the dogs. Who would after them? At few seconds after I had this thought, a vehicle passed me with the answer printed on the side. It was a dog grooming service, but the words came as a direct answer to my sudden concern. It said: 'We're there for your dogs, when we know you can't be.'
I Was Always Delighted When 'My Guides', Spoke Of My Deceased Dogs, Binda And Kindi.
From the moment that I entered the building, I was totally engaged by the place. I immediately began to 'get' crazy amounts of information, anything from people who had lived and died there, through to the cosmic significance of the place. My mind was racing as I entered into a trance state. The ceiling was full of sculptured stone stars. If ever I had gotten married, I thought, it would have been here. I trusted this place. It was a warm and gentle place of holy people, a place of angels, a place of stars that lined the ceilings. I felt secure here and I felt closer, closer to God ...
In my journal, I wrote the following:
"... Rosslyn Chapel is a place of elemental human and angel energy. The chapel speaks of the ascension or the way forward of the soul and this teaching extends into the surrounding landscape. It is not about sending someone into the light of obliteration or the void, as if we could. It is about unconditional love. It is about assisting them to assist the universe and its continual evolution or unfoldment of consciousness ..."
As I walked down the road away from Rosslyn Chapel a white van drove slowly past me. On the side of the van were the words 'Bright Star.' The angels from Rosslyn Chapel spoke to me, Good-bye, Bright Star. Feeling myself growing ever dim, I was greatly comforted by this interaction.
[Note: The above diagram is some information that I received as I entered Rosslyn Chapel, portraying the soul of the human being as existing between the earth and the sun, while being the energy link between the two destinations. The chapel was viewed in a similar way to a human being, or a place between the earth and the sun.
The Fairy Glen
The Doonhill Fairy Trail Walk, Scotland.
On the winding path of the Doonhill Fairy Trail Walk up to the secluded glen, where legend had it that the Reverend Kirk was abducted by fairies. I took many photos of the surrounding bush seeing what I could pick up. The place certainly had an atmosphere about it and it wasn't long before it began to speak with me. It was only one line and it had to do with the disappearance of the Reverend Kirk. They said that he was not 'abducted' by them, followed by, something along the lines of: He only moved in closer to us, into a deeper shade of green. It was more profound than this, but it is my best translation of the telepathic communication. It was kind of sung to me, as I walked, half poetry and half wind. I wanted to start taking down, what they were saying, straight away, but the circumstances didn't allow for it, so I took as many photos as I could, in hopes of recapturing the voice, that was speaking through the natural world. [Update 2016: Nearly all of these photos 'vanished' from my pc].
I Could Not Relate To People Tying Hundreds Of Ribbons And Strips Of Rag Onto Trees.
At the end of the trail, I took many photos of the fairy streamers, flapping in the wind. It reminded me of clothes flapping in the wind before the sun, from our hills hoist clothesline, which had always been comforting to me as a child. It was not as nearly as refreshing as the clothesline. I liked the movement of the wind through the material, but something about the way that people here, tied all these ribbons and string on to trees repelled me, like they were somehow polluting, or making it dirty.
Jamie 'The Tour Guide', Spent Most Of The Time Drinking, Drunk Or Getting Over Drink.
[UPDATE 2010: Once I was looking over my photos back in Australia, I noticed that our 'tour guide' Jamie, appeared to have an expression of 'horror' on his face. At first I thought that he might have been trying to hide a joint (marijuana) that he was about to roll, but upon closer inspection, I saw that where his left eye should have been, that there appeared to be a skin coloured 'tube' protruding from his face.]
Mackenzie Truck
The group was dropped off for lunch at Cross Keys, a pub in Kippen. On the road there we 'happened' to follow a truck with 'Mackenzie' on the back. "Look!," exclaimed Patricia, "Can you see what is written on the back of that truck?" "I know," I said. "I've been watching plates for the past half an hour." I'd actually had my eye on all the number plates of oncoming traffic. The first plate in the sequence I had been focused on had the word 'STALKER' on it. This was followed by a series of plates with the names of every stalker, psychopath or abuser that had been in my life. Again, could someone be trying to tell me something? Either way, it appeared to be a warning, or even some kind of a threat. I shrugged this off as well. I was used to these 'meaningful synchronicities', since it was the way my own guides communicated with me, when I was back in Australia.
There Were To Be Dozens Of 'Meaningful Synchronicities, As Mackenzie Stalked Me Across Scotland.
Clava Cairns
Towards the end of the day we visited our first burial mounds Clava Cairns. There was a hooded figure like a Druid 'inscripted' into the bark of the tree. It was like it had been drawn there by something willing our attention to itself. I turned to Patricia, "They do this. I think they transform or manipulate the surface of things somehow, stone, wood, sand, cloud, smoke." It was nearly always figurative. Several of us got a good sense of the field and found it particularly disturbing. I asked Maggie, who was the other Australian in the group, "What are you getting from this place?" "Sacrifices," she replied with a small sigh, "Yep ... more sacrifices." "Yeah, me too. I'm getting the same thing." Not again, I thought shaking my head, half wondering what I was doing here. Why were people obsessed these stones, trying to interact with them, to get close to them, treating them as something ... holy?
Nearly Every Stone Formation That We Visited Was About Worship And Sacrifice, As In Death And Sex Rituals.
It had disappointed and disgusted me, when the 'tour guide' Jamie, took the stance that human sacrifice was okay. He was coming from the point of view, that we should not place our own judgements on the practices of ancient pagan cultures. He also said that many of those who were sacrificed chose to do it. But the impressions that I was receiving were of acute fear, pain and suffering. There was a darkness, a terror of death and almost a complete absence of empathy from the perpetrators. I turned to Jamie saying, "It doesn't matter what culture it belongs to. It's murder." I didn't like the place at all. I didn't care that it was historic, neolithic, prehistoric, druidic, or of cultural, or even spiritual significance. Why celebrate a place where more human barbarianism had obviously occurred? These were dark places, of stone and blood, of no mercy and of the terror and despair of violence and bloodshed.
Culloden Battlefield
Culloden Battlefield, Scotland.
As we approached Culloden Battlefield on our way to Cromarty, I started to feel an invasion of the consciousness of the place upon my own. What is this place? It was a place of high emotion, shock and exhausted tears, love and defeat and the sorrow of letting go. I saw the dead and the wounded walking home to their loved ones, across the hills and glens and the sodden fields of Scotland. I saw the dead walking into the sky towards the east, into the light brighter than a dawn, now engulfing their ghostly forms. This seemed to go on forever. As I looked out the window I recognised the place immediately as we drove by, although I had never been here before this day.
I had the strangest memories, but I knew that they were not mine and that I had not lived before. At least I didn't think that I had. I had no memory of having ever existed before this life. There was something of heaven within me, a sense of worlds aside and beyond this one, but this was sensory, rather than from memory or prior experience. So my only conclusion, was that I must have been picking up on the memory of someone who had died there. He was a man. I knew the exact position on he field where I had died as this man. The battle having been lost, me on my back against a small rise in the field and another next to me, who was as a brother to me.
I Was Struck With, What Appeared To Be A 'Powerful Past Life Experience' At Culloden Battlefield.
The feeling of despair and hopelessness, blood sticking to the clothing on my front, an injured arm, unable to rise again, and then the bursting white light and no pain after that. I asked Jamie to stop the car, as I looked out onto the empty landscape, already fading into early evening. He immediately refused and drove on. Throughout the trip he would only stop for the others in the group. It was a bizzare form of continuing abuse, but I seemed paralysed to respond to it, trapped in the bubble of an old tragedy, without a kind or personal word from anyone, but it hardly mattered, since my mind was elsewhere, drifting around in these other worlds, atmospheres and visions of places I had never seen before this, and people I had never been ...
Hellman And Your Life
We stayed at The Royal Hotel in Cromarty. It had been done up as an old seafarer's accommodation, huddled on the edge of a great stretch of blue grey water. The next morning I was sitting at the breakfast table, and once everyone had left, I was told that there was a message for me. As I glanced around the dining room, I couldn't see anything obvious. Then I got up and was instantly led over to the unused fire place.
'HELLMAN' and 'OMEGA'. Omega was the word that I had seen at Greyfriars Kirkyard back in Edinburgh. This was about Mackenzie again. Was he in Hell?
'Your Life'. My life was in the trash can waiting to be thrown into the fire. This felt like both a warning from good angels and a threat by him (Mackenzie), but I couldn't distinguish who it might be from. Either way, it was obviously serious and I felt concerned. Then I shrugged it off, since I didn't really know what to do about it ...
That morning we bordered a tiny barge called The Cromarty Rose that would take us from the Firth to Nigg. We then spent the day driving along some very pretty coastal areas with deep cliffs that plunged into a distant ocean thousands of feet below. It was as if entire fields and farms horizontal now could be tipped into an ocean far away. We stopped for morning tea at The Golf Links Hotel. Denise said, "Here, look ...", handing me a book off the shelf on the highland clearances in Scotland. I opened it up to a random page and the words said, "forced to live in a cemetery."
I looked up at Denise from the low couch I was seated in, "It's him again." She then asked, "Did you see the who wrote to book?" "No," I said, quickly flipping it over to the front cover. It was written by ... Mackenzie. I shook my head, "Don't encourage him," I said half jokingly. "You're helping him by pointing these things out." Yet, at the same time, I wondered about him feelng forced to live in a cemetery. I placed the book on the coffee table in front of me, noting that any feelings of concern that I may have I felt, seemed to have a drawing effect, forgotten about a moment later.
The Hill 'O' Many Stones
Patricia And Myself [In The Background], On The Hill 'O' Many Stones, In Scotland.
The group dropped in at Camster Cairns and the Hill 'O' Many Stones, where I sensed many people standing and facing the same direction on some kind of ceremony of worship. I was beginning to feel some of these places before we got to them and was given images of people and rituals as we moved and stood amongst the stones. As we travelled further north, I noticed that some of the designs and standing stones were very similar to what I had seen on Easter Island. That's strange. Why would there be a connection between these stones and designs worldwide, when we were looking at completely different cultures thousands of kilometres away from each other, with no chance of contact? It appeared that whoever or whatever had inspired ancient people's to carve and erect these stones was worldwide. That afternoon, Jamie drove the black car from a huge and desolate windy wharf in northern Scotland, onto one of the rugged Pentland Ferries, that we caught to Kirkwall, in The Orkney Islands.
The Cry of the Celts - I Was Told By My Guides That My Ancestry Of [The Mackay Clan] Originally Came From Ireland.
This website is part of my personal testimony and has been guided by The Holy Spirit and written in Jesus' name.
