─ Chapter Seventeen ─ Perspective


Peter Thompson was appointed Chief Executive of the Quality Assurance Agency for Higher Education in 2018. It is the independent body entrusted with monitoring and advising on standards and quality in the UK.

He had heard about Castlethorpe because it stood out as one of the most consistently excellent rated higher education establishments across the country. He was, however, baffled by the fact that it never has more than 10% of its students on degree courses. He had read all the inspection reports – they spoke for themselves. He decided to visit for himself in an attempt to find out the reasons behind its continuing success and whether other colleges and universities could learn from Castlethorpe.
     Like Eleanor before her Sarah enjoyed meeting people who were interested in Castlethorpe’s work, for whatever reason. Apart from totally satisfying the QAA’s inspection criteria, Castlethorpe more than meets every requirement of the many regulatory bodies that have inspected it. Sarah revels the scrutiny as an opportunity to demonstrate what an amazing college Castlethorpe is. It also means she can share the real reasons for its success.
     Oliver had greeted Peter and shown him through to the Room of Meeting. Like many people he was transfixed by the huge tapestry.         Sarah entered and stretched out her hand towards the tall suited man with a cheeky smile on her face.
     ‘Hello Peter, sorry for keeping you waiting, I was just finishing a Skype catch up with the Dali Lama.’
     ‘Now that’s name-dropping at its best.’
     ‘I couldn’t resist it though it is directly relevant to this beautiful tapestry. It was created by Jikme Tenpe Nyima, one of our students who, like, the Dali Lama was forced to flee from Tibet. When he visited here a few weeks ago he too was drawn to it and immediately could identify whose work it was. They were friends. It is one of the most common topics of conversation that Castlethorpe principals have with people who are considering coming to Castlethorpe.
     ‘I feel drawn into it. The deeper I look, the more I see.’
     ‘That is its intention.’
     Sarah could be very direct at times and this was no exception.
     ‘So what draws the QAA’s Chief Executive from his desk in Southgate Street?’
     ‘You know Gloucester?’
     ‘Yes, my bank is near your office though I have not been to it for years since the arrival of online banking. I love Gloucester Quays.’
     ‘I’m curious about this place. Your record is outstanding. You have set an almost impossible bar of success yet still fewer than 10% of students chose to study degree level courses.’
     ‘Let me answer the easiest question first. As your inspection reports demonstrate we offer a wide range of degree courses and are a centre of excellence for research into comparative theology. The fact is that those academic qualifications are simply not necessary for most students who come here. They are seekers of what it means to be human and having academic letters after their name is unimportant. The informal courses of learning that you do not have to inspect, but we invite you to, is what attracts people here. They decide what, how and when they want to learn. The number of courses that we offer each year has grown and new modules are added whenever necessary. I always encourage people to take degree courses but they prefer the totally flexible approach offered here. You’ll be aware, I’m sure, that some people come to Castlethorpe just to be part of its life and are not pressured to study at all; so long as they pay the annual fee they are welcome.’
     ‘Doesn’t this prevent lots of people who want to study from getting a place?’
     ‘We have never had a waiting list and yet maintain 95% levels of occupancy – residential and non, as stated in your most recent report.’
     ‘How do you meet growing demand?’
     ‘We build more accommodation and learning rooms. The Trust owns significant land around the College. Many students become teachers and live within the grounds.’
     ‘I understand that Castlethorpe has been accused of being a cult.’
     Sarah laughed.
     ‘That old chestnut. Yes, investigative journalists have dug deep into Castlethorpe from every conceivable angle and conclude that we are most definitely not a cult. I have met several prospective students who were accepted at Castlethorpe despite the fact that their true motivation stands out a mile within the first few minutes. Discernment is one of my gifts you see.’
     ‘So what do you discern about me?’
     ‘That, Mr Thompson, is something I choose to keep to myself – for now.’
     Peter smiled, he knew it was a rather foolish question.
     They talked for over two hours, then Oliver knocked and entered.
     ‘I think it’s time to show Peter the library. Oliver will demonstrate some of the less obvious features that we have recently installed.’
     While they we gone Sarah went into her office and added some final touches to a learning session she was doing the following day about soul groups. Jorge arrived an hour later to show Peter the rest of the grounds and the Labyrinth. Finally he had dinner with a group of students and Sarah and Patrick joined them for dessert.’
     ‘Well Peter, what do you make of it all?’
     ‘Castlethorpe is an exceptional place.’
     ‘What do you conclude?’ asked Patrick in a warm, challenging way.
     ‘This place is about love. You can study all you like, get a string of academic qualifications and stroke your educational ego until it purrs like a Rolls Royce, but you can’t teach love. I have seen it in the eyes of people here. I see it in how you do everything from cleaning the toilets, tweaking the electronic blinds in The Place of Gathering, the extremely sophisticated and gorgeous library to welcoming a sceptical stranger like myself  into your midst and opening your hearts to me. Quite frankly I am completely surprised and overwhelmed. I knew it was a brilliant academic institution, I had no idea it is such a beautiful place where people can discover their true humanity and divinity.
     The following month Peter Thompson resigned and became a student at Castlethorpe. His thought his learning ambitions far exceeded anything a degree level course could offer him. At least that was his intention; unfortunately he was like the seed that fell on rocky ground and left Castlethorpe after two months – he had not found what he thought he was looking for. The gate to awakening and enlightenment can be narrower than one imagines!
*
Callum had woken up unusually early. It was one of those fresh summer mornings at Castlethorpe. He stepped outside and walked barefoot onto the dew-dressed grass. He loved this time of day and listened intently to the bird’s morning chorus. Something, however, was not right with him and then the truth shook him to his very core. It was so powerful he nearly feinted. He could no longer feel the Divine in himself. There was nothing. He hid himself amongst the yellowing foliage of a willow tree and wept. He was frightened and alone. So alone. He felt a profound pain in his soul, sat down and waited for Great Spirit to reveal herself again. He intellectualised what was happening to be a test – God had withdrawn and was testing him to see how he would respond. It would take him to new levels of spiritual experience, he thought. He sat there for about an hour and then thought he better get back to the cottage.
     Folina had just made some coffee and was walking around in a very light silk garment that always turned Callum on. She could be a tease. It did nothing for him – he went straight to the toilet, hardly acknowledging Folina’s sexy welcome. Folina was disappointed. He was still there ten minutes later which was very unusual. She lightly tapped on the door.
     ‘Are you alright?’
     ‘Yea, I’ll be out in a minute.’
     Folina knew immediately by the tone of his voice that something was wrong.
     Callum emerged a few minutes later and looked drawn and pale.
     ‘Oh Sweetheart, what’s wrong, you’ve been crying.’
     ‘I’ve been cut off.’
     ‘Cut off?’
     ‘Spirit has left me. I can’t sense the pulse of love in me anymore. It must be a test but why? What have I done to deserve this? The pain of emptiness is intolerable. I only sense me. I’m no longer part of anything. I’m alone. I’ve lost my connection with the life that is in everything. There is no communion. My harp is hung upon the willow of desolation. God has abandoned me and I feel wretched.’
     Folina was completely thrown by what Callum was saying and did not know what to do. She uncharacteristically burst into tears, went over to Callum and hugged him. He welcomed the hug and responded in tears. This was a crisis, not of faith, but an experience neither of them were prepared for. No members of the soul group appeared to console and reassure or perform some wonderful act or spell that would make everything right. No beautiful beings made their presence known to help restore the links of Oneness into Callum’s soul. No Castlethorpe friends dropped by unexpectantly.
     Folina did all she could to comfort and support Callum. She tried everything she could but nothing made any difference. He sat in a chair and stared out of the window. He did not know what to do with himself. Folina felt helpless. They had no plans that day which was just as well. A couple of hours later Callum got up and kissed Folina’s neck as she dozed in her favourite chair. The touch of his lips roused her from dreaming about a group of angels having an in-depth discussion about Callum’s future. She was disorientated and wondered if the whole day had been a dream and that everything was as it should be.
     It wasn’t.
     Now Folina, for the first time in her life, was beginning to doubt everything. Although this feeling only lasted a second or two it threw her off balance. Her connection with the Source of All Life was as real as ever. She could not imagine what it would be like to lose it. She hoped she never would. She did not think you could yet here was her lover, apparently severed.
     ‘How are you feeling Callum?’
     ‘Wretched still, I’m afraid. Yes, I’m very afraid. I don’t know what to do.’
     ‘Shall we have a chat with Eleanor?’
     ‘And what will that accomplish? Will she wave her magic wand and all will be well again?’
     Folina was shocked by the sternness of his sarcasm.
     ‘Sorry, I did not mean that.’
     ‘I know,’ she said, stroking his hair. ‘We’ll get through it together.’
     ‘But what if I’m lost... I feel lost... what if something evil has happened and there is no way back?’
     ‘I don’t believe in evil. Humans are Divine beings in a temporary flesh and bones form. Our minds and egos are powerful and can create allusions that attempt to hide us from the Truth but their attempts are always in vain.’
     ‘I know that to be true with my mind and I thought it was written on my heart and pulsated through my veins but I can no longer feel it and that is very, very, very real to me. It can’t be a ruse of my ego or mind.’
     Folina’s heart swelled with compassion and concern.
     ‘No Callum but the collective mind and ego may be able to deceive you temporarily, to suppress the spiritual sensitivity within your soul.’
     ‘Where did that come from?’ Callum asked in a reactionary tone.
     ‘I have no idea – it just came out.’
     Folina was still looking for some miraculous intervention that would sort everything out. She believed it would happen. Nothing did. Nothing changed for several weeks. Callum settled into a slightly better state of getting on with life. He took out the rubbish. He went shopping. He did his income tax return. Life took on the appearance of normality but it was far from normal for Callum and Folina. They talked. They hoped for a Divine miracle. They cried together. They made love but something was missing in their physical and emotional intimacy – their spiritual intimacy - Folina was alive, Callum appeared dead.
*
‘Thank you for inviting me into your learning about Soul Groups. There is much we will never know; I think this is because we are not meant to know – that does not mean that we can’t plumb their depths and swim in the ecstasy of discovery – it means that they are so precious that if we truly understood them there is a very real possibility that they could overwhelm us; after all in this form we are fragile indeed.
     It’s all about perspective. Imagine that you are in a spacecraft orbiting Earth. You see our beautiful planet like countless millions of people have never seen it. You have seen photographs of Earth in books and the amazing footage shot from orbiting satellites and the International Space Station, but all the astronauts agree that there is nothing like seeing it for yourself in real time. Our eyes see everything but process only a minute amount of the visual information – thankfully, otherwise we would have to have brains the size of those telepathic aliens in the early Star Trek episode called “The Cage”! One or two of you, I know, have travelled around the Earth on the Astral Plane so will know exactly what I am talking about.’
     Several nodded in acknowledgement.
     ‘Now imagine you are one tiny cuticle of some moss hugging a tree in a forest. It  rains and you are you are adorned by a bubble of water that distorts your view of the world – magnifying it in ways you had never imagined. Humanoids walk by and hardly notice you apart from those sensitive souls who approach and gingerly touch your fellow cuticles and tendrils. It is a magical exchange. You sense their energy, absorbing it and transmute it into nourishing chemicals to the plant of which you are a part. Ecosystem means nothing to you, it’s all part of the wonder of being alive in the forest where your ancestors have reproduced and thrived for millions of earth years. To a human youngster you are part of a soft green furry carpet that is pleasing to touch and smell. You give freely in this way because that is what you do.
     Let’s go smaller – to the smallest part of a particle that scientists are currently aware of – Quarks. A quark is a type of elementary particle and a fundamental constituent of matter. Quarks combine to form composite particles called hadrons, the most stable of which are protons and neutrons, the components of atomic nuclei. This is infinitesimally small. Imagine you are a quark, joined with other types of quarks that form part of the heart of an atom. An atom is one of the basic units of matter. Everything around us is made up of atoms. An atom is a million times smaller than the thickest human hair. What is it like to be a quark? That might sound like a totally ridiculous question, but is it? This is where perspective comes in.
     From the tinniest subatomic particle let us now branch out and embrace the entire universe! The Universe is all of space and time and their contents, including planets, stars, galaxies, and all other forms of matter and energy. While the spatial size of the entire Universe is unknown, it is possible to measure the size of the observable universe, which is currently estimated to be 93 billion light-years in diameter. In various multiverse hypotheses, a universe is one of many causally disconnected constituent parts of a larger multiverse, which itself comprises all of space and time and its contents.
     The earliest cosmological models of the Universe were developed by ancient Greek and Indian philosophers and were geocentric, placing Earth at the centre. Over the centuries, more precise astronomical observations led Nicolaus Copernicus to develop the heliocentric model with the Sun at the centre of the Solar System. In developing the law of universal gravitation, Isaac Newton built upon Copernicus' work as well as Johannes Kepler's laws of planetary motion and observations by Tycho Brahe.
     Further observational improvements led to the realization that the Sun is one of hundreds of billions of stars in the Milky Way, which is one of at least hundreds of billions of galaxies in the Universe. Many of the stars in our galaxy have planets. At the largest scale, galaxies are distributed uniformly and the same in all directions, meaning that the Universe has neither an edge nor a centre. At smaller scales, galaxies are distributed in clusters and superclusters which form immense filaments and voids in space, creating a vast foam-like structure. Discoveries in the early 20th century have suggested that the Universe had a beginning and that space has been expanding since then and is currently still expanding at an increasing rate.
     Add Greek mythology to this mix and the complexity intensifies – or does it? Is it too simplistic to adopt a perspective approach? Is the perspective of an astronaut in space really that different from a moss cuticle or a quark? Each perceives a universe around them and may or may not question what its role is within that universe. We may think that a quark is incapable of thought. That may be the case but only as we perceive the notion of thought.        Many powerful leaders have gazed into a cloudless night sky, been overwhelmed by its star-studded beauty, vastness and intricacy; surprised by its shooting stars and drawn into the mysterious velvety blackness of it all. They step back to their offices feeling small and maybe slightly more humble, acutely aware of the fragility of their position and the limits of their power. I love these quotes:

     “I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.”
     ― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight
    
      “Some praise the Lord for Light,
     The living spark;
     I thank God for the Night
     The healing dark.”
     ― Robert William Service

“He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendours of the constellations, and the invisible splendour of God, opening his soul to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour when the flowers of night inhale their perfume, lighted like a lamp in the centre of the starry night, expanding his soul in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not himself perhaps have told what was passing in his own mind; he felt something depart from him, and something descend upon him, mysterious interchanges of the depths of the soul with the depths of the universe.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables  
    
“A star falls from the sky and into your hands. Then it seeps through your veins and swims inside your blood and becomes every part of you. And then you have to put it back into the sky. And it's the most painful thing you'll ever have to do and that you've ever done. But what's yours is yours. Whether it’s up in the sky or here in your hands. And one day, it'll fall from the sky and hit you in the head real hard and that time, you won't have to put it back in the sky again.”
― C. JoyBell C.

“I love the stars.
Because they can't say anything.
I love the stars.
Because they do not judge anyone.”
― Natsuki Takaya

“When you reach for the stars, you are reaching for the farthest thing out there. When you reach deep into yourself, it is the same thing, but in the opposite direction. If you reach in both directions, you will have spanned the universe.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

     ‘That’s what I call perspective. It’s perspective we need to keep before our hearts and souls when we probe the existence, purpose, composition and mystery of soul groups. Thankfully, at the very least, a new religion has not been started around soul groups. Whatever you do don’t become attached to one or more groups because as soon as you do they will dissolve. No human being should ever say “I am a member of such and such a soul group”. Their constitution is a happy and holy coincidence. It is a fruitless exercise to attempt to ascertain why people who were dead manifest themselves in a particular soul group. The groups are in and out of time – like the stars you think you see at night.’
     ‘Have you ever been involved in a soul group and encountered other beings?’ asked Lena, a former Moravian minister. Sarah replied...
     ‘Yes, very frequently.’
     ‘How did you communicate with them.’
     ‘Telepathically usually.’
     ‘What happens when its unusual.’
     ‘I do love these sessions – specific questions like these can become so enlightening or, unless I am mistaken, can also muddy the waters. You have highlighted a beautiful aspect of soul groups that I describe sometimes as “Babel reversed”. Soul groups will nearly always form with a mixture of people who communicate in different languages. I have no idea how but everyone understands what is being said whether vocally, sign language of telepathically. Yesterday a group formed in my study that I have been a part of before. The person who spoke first was an old soul who spoke in, what I now know to be, a Russian dialect that faded out at least two hundred years ago. As I looked at the person’s lips and listened to the sorrowful pitch of her voice I heard in my heart exactly what she wished to communicate. Forgive me for what might come over as being patronising but this is not science fiction; I did not have a Babel fish in my ear - like in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy – that enabled me to hear the person speaking as though in English; no, somehow deep within my heart and mind I could hear what she was saying because I understood the words. Later my memory of what she said would be in English by mindful recall but at the time I just knew exactly what she was saying even though I could not speak her language.’
     ‘Did you speak in the soul group?’
     ‘Yes and I spoke in English and they understood exactly what I had said in the same way each of us understood what the woman said in the ancient Russian dialect. It’s hard to explain but do you understand how I have described it.?
     ‘Yes, I don’t know how really. My rational mind challenges the whole concept but I believe you in the core of my being.’
     ‘The same happens communicating with beings from other worlds.’
     ‘What about the physicality of these beings. We need a breathable atmosphere and in our arrogance we believe that beings need to breathe like us – it’s why we think life can’t exist on Mars!’
     ‘You are right, I have encountered beings from other worlds who do not breathe, they synthesise energy to maintain life in a totally different way. Some beings are very small and others are huge. You may ask how could humans and other beings be in the same physical space? Again I have no definitive answer to this other than to say that somehow, so far as size is concerned we seem to physically change in size for the time the group is together and to the conditions of the location. For example I materialised in a group once in an underwater environment. I could breathe normally. I don’t know how, I was not in a bubble, I could feel the currents and the weight of the water – if it was water. A light green dolphin-like creature who was present said it was about twenty of Earth’s feet tall yet appeared to me to be about six feet. Other beings that breathe what to us would be a poisonous atmosphere can be present with me without harm coming to either of us.’
     ‘You mean a normally twenty foot high aquatic being could be in your office in a soul group and not be gasping for liquid?’
     ‘Yes, I asked this question myself and their reply was “I am in my home liquid.” It was not water. To me it looked as though it was gently floating, totally at ease in my office.’
     A young Chinese philosopher in the class commented “Dr Doolittle eat your heart out!” Everyone laughed. The session was timetabled to last 90 minutes. It continued for three hours with everyone’s agreement and full attention. Sarah drew them into the wonderfully weird world of soul group paradoxes. Additional sessions had to be timetabled.
*
Callum boarded the train at Waterloo and settled into his window seat on the left-hand side facing forwards. He loved to see the swiftly changing scenes flash by as his train headed towards Dorking. Worcester Park  was Callum’s border crossing to the countryside which became increasingly more wooded and green as the train left Epsom, through Ashtead and Leatherhead to Dorking where he alighted. He stood on the picturesque platform and looked towards one of his favourite places – Box Hill. Although many of his childhood memories were not particularly happy with his emotionally distant parents they seemed to relax on picnic outings to Box Hill. He remembered rolling down a slope with his father in a pretend wrestling bout. It was late August, the school holidays were nearly over, yet, for once he did not have a care in the world. The grass was lush, the views were mesmerising and his mother’s sandwiches and chilled orangeade was the best. He was happy and carefree.
     There was no-one checking tickets, as usual, so he replaced it in his wallet and wandered outside. There were a couple of taxis waiting, the drivers leaning on one of them chatting in what Callum guessed was Urdu; he recognised one of them who turned to him and smiled.
     ‘Ah, Mr Callum, it is good to see you again – the cottage by the Stephen Langton yes?’
     ‘You have a good memory.’
     ‘It’s my job and my pleasure to remember as many customers as I can. Lady Eleanor comes here now and then and I bend the rules, just a little bit you understand, by allowing her to book me direct by telephone.
     Callum chuckled to himself when he heard “Lady Eleanor” – it was a most fitting title. As the taxi turned off the A25 and headed towards Friday Street the trees grew more dense and created occasional tunnels with their arching limbs over the windy narrow road. After five minutes they arrived at Mill Pond. Callum asked to be let out there as he wanted to walk the rest of the way. He paid the friendly driver and added a healthy tip.
     ‘May God bless you Mr Callum, send my regards to Lady Eleanor.’
     Callum swung his rucksack over his shoulder, leant on a post and soaked in the view of the pond. Its stillness touched him though this was rudely broken by two Muscovy ducks landing with quite a splash about ten yards from him. He had seen this gentle red-headed pair on a previous visit and greeted them – they responded in kind then glided away. He took this as his cue to move on. He walked around the pond down the lane towards the Stephen Langton and then through the gate to Eleanor’s cottage. She was using it more frequently and loved its tranquil location – ideal for writing which she was doing more of these days. She celebrated her 74th birthday a few weeks earlier and was starting to wonder how much longer she would need to breathe in her flesh and blood form. She was essentially fit and well though she was not immune from the aches and pains that older people seem to talk about constantly. For her these were a mild inconvenience, a simple reminder that the human form does not last forever. She had done a study into the longevity of the human form throughout history where characters like Methuselah, who is said to have lived for 969 years and Noah for 950 years. Similar claims of long life spans are found in the literature of several ancient cultures - Babylonians, Greeks, Romans, Indians, and Chinese.
     He tapped gently on the door.
     ‘Callum, come in – it’s so good to see you.’
     They hugged and, as usual, Callum went to his room to unpack and refresh himself.
     Three months had passed since Callum felt cut off from the Source of All Life. It had been the most painful spiritual learning experience of his life in this current form. Folina had been absolutely fantastic, as had the rest of the Seven -  apart that is, Leonard who made no appearance either physically or by voice - and the Castlethorpe family. They all felt something in common, being totally helpless and not knowing what to do apart from loving Callum with all their hearts and minds. It was a mystery that would become a trial for many, provoke deep reflection and questioning    yet would ultimately result in an even deeper peace, if that were possible, and connection and participation in Oneness of Spirit.
     Eleanor was not a great cook so they lunched in the SL, as she called the Stephen Langton, and then went for a walk, back around the pond and into the thickly wooded slopes. They stopped as most people do and looked at the pond. Eleanor had read extensively about the area’s history and Callum could sense he was going to have a lesson.
     ‘This large pond in this lovely hamlet of Friday Street is all that remains of the former mill site, other than the 17th century cottages and Millhouse associated with the mill. The site powered a corn mill which probably has its origins in the late 16th century. However, a mill was likely at the site from 1579, when George Evelyn bought Wotton manor – whether it began as a corn or a gunpowder mill is less clear, though by the mid-17th century, there were two mills at the site: one for wheat and one for malt. Its high dam and slag have also led to speculation of its use as an iron mill. The Friday Street mills were closed down around 1736 by John Evelyn, likely for the purposes of being able to steepen the water gradient of the Tillingbourne downstream as part of his estate landscaping. The mills’ tenants were transferred to Elwix Mill in Abinger.
     ‘As always Eleanor, or shall I say Lady Eleanor, I love your local history lessons!’
     ‘So, Mahmod, drove you today I see.’
     ‘Shucks, you guessed,’ he said with a cheeky smile.
     Eleanor put her arm around Callum’s shoulder as they continued around the pond.
     ‘Dear Callum, you have gone through one of the most painful experiences that awakened people can have.’
     ‘It was terrible, I thought I was losing my mind, but worse I then began to think I was losing my soul. Intellectually I knew this to be impossible. I spent hours researching – digging, digging and digging deep into ancient writings. Oliver was unearthing texts even he had not been aware of and travelled miles to purchase them for the library. I’m not saying it was all in vain but nothing seemed to help to explain what and why I was experiencing such pain, such loneliness, such deep doubt about everything.’
     Much of their walk was in silence with occasional bursts of conversation. The slopes of Leith Hill provided an unusually strong spiritual balm and as they descended down a different path they realised they had bypassed the SL and come across a partly overgrown path that led to the rear gate of Eleanor’s rural retreat.
     ‘Autumn is sending us the first signs of its arrival. I love late summer – the days can be warm – dusk brings a welcoming chill and lush dew on the grass. I love to walk barefoot on the grass just before it gets dark. I chat with the nymphs, pixies and elves. We laugh and frolick together and as the welcome darkness arrives we stare at the tree line and watch it emit colourful energies to the sky – a woodland Aurora Borealis, speeding towards the stars.’
     They had dinner in the SL, delicious as ever, though declined dessert, returning to the cottage for coffee. Eleanor was very particular about coffee and would take quite a while to make it. She removed the brown plastic clip from a paper bag of dark roasted Gesha beans from Costa Rica and placed them gingerly in the grinder.
     ‘Now Callum, you may think I’m very fussy about making coffee. I just am – end of. Here, read this sheet, it will save me trying to explain.
     Callum went into the lounge and read the sheet:
The Hario V60 dripper was later released in 1980, with a more up to date version being designed in 2004.
     Time
A quick method that shouldn’t take longer than 4 minutes once your water has boiled.
     Difficulty
This method doesn’t require a great level of skill but does require a lot of concentration. Pay great attention to the way you’re pouring and time between each pour.
     What you will need
A V60 dripper
A long-spouted pour over kettle
Filter paper
A timer
     Method
Put your water on to boil.
Fold the filter paper along the seam and place into the V60 dripper.
Put your V60 dripper over a cup or mug.
Pour some boiling water over the filter paper.
Allow the water to drain out and then place a scoop of coffee into the filter.
Start to pour the hot water over little by little, allowing about 30 seconds in between each pour.
Watch the coffee drip into your mug and take off once it is full.
     Result
This should give you a refreshing cup of coffee that is still rich and full of flavour. There should be no bitterness.
     Tips
Wait a couple of minutes after the water has boiled for best results. Also, when pouring the water try starting in the middle of the coffee and then spiralling outwards to fully extract all the flavours.
     Perfect for
If you have a little extra time and are looking for a rich, flavourful coffee that isn’t bitter.
     Not suitable if
You don’t have the time or concentration to go back and forth pouring and monitoring the coffee.
     Pros
A mess free method that requires little clean up. Simply dispose of the filter and wash the V60 dripper.
This is an affordable method that produces exceptionally high-quality coffee.
     Cons
You will need to purchase speciality filter papers.
This is one of the methods that requires the most care and attention.
     Eleanor entered with two special china coffee cups and saucers with matching coffee and milk jugs she purchased in Columbia. Callum was expecting a cup of lukewarm coffee after the ten minutes it had taken to make. Eleanor poured him a cup and put in a little milk – she knew how he liked it. He smelled its pleasing aroma then tasted it.
     ‘Blimey Eleanor, this is amazing. What’s the secret? I thought it was going to be lukewarm but it’s perfectly hot.’
     ‘Everything is bone china which retains the heat and I warm it all in boiling water before brewing. The beans are from Costa Rica and there is a lovely little independent shop in Dorking that roasts them to perfection for me. It’s expensive but this is a special occasion.’
     They talked for several hours and some of the things they said to each other would remain between them – they were too sacred, too personal to share beyond Eleanor and Folina. It was about three weeks into his separation from Spirit that something, imperceptibly at first, started to stir deep within his being. It was as though God was whispering something to him from a far distant place. As each day passed it grew gradually louder until he could discern a sentence.
     ‘Now you know how I felt.’
     He had invested all his intellectual energy in an attempt to assure himself that he was not spiritually dead. He knew this was a fact. He would never be forsaken. The problem was he could not square this with the feelings in his soul. It was the word “forsaken” that shocked him like a bolt of spiritual lightening. It is almost impossible to describe but for a few seconds he was Jesus Christ just before his death on the cross. Callum described it to Folina and Eleanor in the most graphic terms of physical agony and emotional and spiritual pain. He was on the cross with little time to live; he could see the blurred figures of people, some mocking, others weeping. He heard the unmistakeable voices of his mother and John, his beloved disciple. Callum described how he called out in a loud voice, late one night in the midst of his favourite willow tree at Castlethorpe.
     ‘Eli Eli lama sabachthani?" which means, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
     It was not a conversation. It was the Source of All Life shouting to the Source of All life the most heart rending and profoundly puzzling question – Why have we abandoned us?, Why have I abandoned myself?, Why has the Divine forsaken the Divine?
     The sentence pounded in time with his heartbeat.
     ‘Now you know how I felt.’
     ‘Now you know how I felt.’
     ‘Now you know how I felt.’
     It was like the three questions to Peter “Do you love me” that restored him from his previous triple denial before the cock crowed.
     The impact of Callum’s cry within the willow had begun to restore his connection with the Source of All Life. Despite the suddenness of the spiritual lightning bolt there was no clap of thunder, no sudden restoration of spiritual feeling; instead Callum experienced a gradual restoration of the “ruach” the breath of the Divine that began blow a gentle Holy breeze into his being, to heal his broken heart and restore his seemingly abandoned soul.
     Eleanor had given Callum all her attentive energy. The tear-tracks on her face glistened in the light. She gently brushed aside the 62 year-old’s hair and kissed him on his forehead.
     ‘Dear Callum. You have been granted an extraordinary privilege that few have experienced. There is much more for you to learn about that barren time; your restoration continues and the depth of love you continue to offer to people knows no bounds. Sleep well.’