Forget not…

Alright you Shining Lights, you makers of dreams, you daring souls who appreciate the slightly different  – THIS IS FOR YOU.

Four more months. That’s it. After December 31st, 2017, there will be NO MORE personal commissioned templates – at least through me. To those of you who don’t know me, this might sound like an oh well kind of thing, a would have been nice but there you go, no big deal. But trust me, after doing these for people in different parts of the world for well over 25 years now (My God, has it been that long?!) and watching the positive growth/change these can bring, it’s a pretty big deal.Gateway to the Heart

So ponder, yes. Think about it, for sure. Listen to your heart. If your heart says YES, then act. Don’t wait. Time flies these days. And templates, at least the big Master ones (which you just might want to get), take awhile to do.

To read more about them, click here  Sacred Geometry to go to the Sacred Geometry page.

Have a bliss-filled peaceful harmonious day!

 

 

 

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A Light in the Window

                                                                    ©Aliana Alani 2017

I have just put up a  new page called, A Light in the Window – a call of love in action to all – inspired by a woman in Ireland many  years ago – Mary Robinson. A light in the window is a call to – BE A LIGHT UNTO YOUR WORLD – to take a stand for kindness and love here and now.

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LET’S IMAGINE, YOU & I…

PUTTING A LAMP in the window of our homes, and turning it on – a soft glow that shines for all to see – 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, all year round. A light, that by its very burning, says here stands a home for decency, kindness, and caring.  Here shines a light of peace and love for all.

To learn more about what this is all about, please go to the page A Light in the Window If it touches your heart, turn on that light – and share this posting (and the ones to come) wherever you can. And bless you for doing so.

There’s another new page…

rising sun

Yes, there is another new page just added to 22shangrila. It’s called – WHAT’S NEW.

As you might guess, it’s about things that are new, current, or about to happen. Mostly (but not totally) it will be about things that you can buy. And it’s there to make it easier for you to check out what’s available without having to scroll through the main section of postings. The plan is to update, hence change, it every month.

There are two new ‘bits’ of information on the page now, with more to be added as the month goes along. I hope you enjoy it and find things there that are right for you to have in your life. Everything in this work is there to help you be a better you.

Remember – You are the shining light. You are the love.

 

Ask only…

                                                                    By Aliana Alani ©2016

tuberose 3

Ask not of others
to be what you want
them to be.

Ask only of yourself
to be who you
truly are.

For your consideration … Straight to the Heart

STRAIGHT TO THE HEART

is a new Template from The Garden Series created by Aliana Alani ©2016

 

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Straight to the Heart (Snippet view)

 

Size:  15” x 22 ¼ “

Done on high quality watercolour paper in gold, silver, and deep garnet pens

 

Focus:  Frequently we move through life in small steps – a little one here, perhaps a slightly larger one there. Yet every once in a while, someone will choose to do what we often call a quantum leap; to go directly to the core of life, whatever that might mean at the time, bypassing all else.

STRAIGHT TO THE HEART is a template that does exactly what its name says. It takes us straight to the heart – of The Garden and of love, and ultimately, to the heart of the Divine within. It is uncomplicated and uncluttered, pure and potent.

 

For pricing and to purchase, email: aliana@22shangrila.com. Please mark ‘Templates from The Garden’ in the subject section. Alternatively you can leave a message below.

As always, I wish you much joy.

How Fragile…

 

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By: Aliana Alani ©2016

There is a beautiful song written by Sting called, How Fragile We Are. I heard it for the first time driving down a highway in the dead of night. Its haunting melody searched the horizons of my heart like the car’s headlights searched the road ahead. Were we travelling the same path? It felt that way. And so began, among other things, a love of Sting’s music, which continues to this day.

 

Light Within The DarknessOne would think that with all the topsy-turvy in the world we might just get used to the ebb and flow of life, its almost constant shift and change. You could even dance with the idea that within these upside-down moments, tremulous as they often are, reside opportunities hidden deep within, life lessons that can ultimately ease the way, shining a path to home.  And yet…

How fragile we are…

There is a vulnerability within us all. A soft spot we frequently like to protect. Instinctively we know it is a door to loving; still we’re careful, usually, about how often we leave it open, or who we let in, or whether we dare to enter it ourselves and live from its sacred domain, a center space we crave like some long distant memory. We’re careful, cautious, because inside we know…

How fragile we are…

And yet we also know, again at a deep level, that it is our greatest gift, this vulnerability, this circle of feeling. We sense, with every fibre of our being, that we are at our best when we are loving; that we are living our Divine potential when we are sharing that love without condition; when we are coming from a place of unlimited kindness and compassion. We know this, still…

When devastation happens – wars rage, fires ravage, floods submerge, people we love succumb to illness or despair and we find ourselves alone – when that which we hold dear dissolves before our eyes, it is hard to imagine that in such moments we are at the very precipice of loving, and yet we are. It may not feel like that. It may feel like an abyss with nothing left, no light, no home to go to, no one to hold onto. It may feel as though there will be no tomorrow – none you can see, none that feels worth living for. It may feel as though everything is closing down. And yet…

…the rain will fall, like tears from a star…

Every moment carries an opportunity – to dare to open, to heal, and to love again. Whether it is an outstretched helping hand, a smile that warms the soul, or a welcome mat you never expected to find – whether you are the giver or the receiver – whether we are talking about humanity, the earth, or beyond – it is all about the loving. Always.

…like tears from a star…

Nothing happens without all of us feeling it. All of us. Everywhere. Whether we know it or not. And everything blossoms and grows with love, especially when generously given. Things come and go. Worlds evolve and change. But the essence of love is always there, dancing throughout the play of life. It is who we are.

This love – infinite, knowing no bounds or limits – this is who we truly are.

 

Apologies and gratitude to Sting for borrowing some of his beautiful song phrases to filter through this writing. I didn’t ask ahead of time so I’m hoping he won’t mind. How Fragile We Are is, to me, one of the most beautiful songs ever written. If you have never heard it, do yourself a favor, find it, buy it, and listen.

The poem … ‘I Had A Dream’

Yesterday I posted a ‘Prelude’ to this poem to give you a sense of how it came to be, the feeling of power,magic, and yes perhaps even destiny, that wove round its coming into form. Here is the poem itself. It is very long so do hang in there. Thanks!

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I HAD A DREAM…                                      By:  Aliana Alani – updated ©2016

I had a dream on a wayward night when the moon was riding high.
A dream of the future once hidden so deep, now crying out to arrive.
A dream with a voice, a dream with a name, a dream with a purpose true.
A dream that grabbed me by the heart and begged me to see it through.

The dream spoke of a land, full and rich, steeped in the power of words.
Where voices whispered in morning mist and councils longed to be heard.
Where the earth was ancient and the song was of old, its colors royal too.
Where legends lived and prayers could be heard locked in the morning dew.

It spoke of a time when the world was right and the island knew its name.
When keys were forged in the glistening light of a golden destined flame.
Buried they were in the depths of the earth beyond terror and human sight.
Beyond evil hands and evil thoughts and intruders come to dig in the night.

For it was known then by those who could see between the sleeves of time
That hungry men would stretch their hands across the water’s broad line.
They would stretch and claw and grab for themselves pieces of the soil.
The land would burn, the land would bleed, and men would know only toil.

And all that was holy, all that was pure, would drown midst a sorrowful cry.
The power of the day would run for the dark, its magic now needing to hide.
Men’s spirits would live in the midst of night’s hue serenading a somber song
And all that was free, unfettered and true, would seem lost in a captor’s bonds.

The seed would be sent to foreign lands with young stomachs yet to be filled.
Such worlds appeared new, wild and alive; still the heart could not be stilled.
It longed for the green, it longed for the mist, it longed for those hidden keys
That called from the depths of that deep dark earth and promised a spirit free.

There would come a time when the world itself did not know which way to turn.
It would look to the left, it would look to the right, its lessons still not learned.
The seers knew such a time as that would wash harsh o’er the souls of this earth.
It would toss them and turn them, it would tumble them round, all before the birth.

They knew those keys would be needed then, so potent with life was their door.
Each encased in a golden light so pure, its spark took one straight to the core.
There would be no denying the power of its flame, no denying the power of truth,
No denying the light that would soon emerge, its flag flying o’er all of the earth.

It would come from an island once lost in pain, an island of war and of strife.
It would come from a place ancient yet new that oft seemed to have little life.
It would tear at the heart, sing to each soul, it would open doors so long bound.
It would call to the day, it would call to the night, it would call to the table round.

The island would live, the island would breathe, the island would claim its place.
From the north to the south, the east to the west, its spirit cast in lasting grace.
Its song would circle a troubled world, a loving voice long destined to be heard.
A white dove would fly from a hilltop high, and the dream would now emerge.

And those who had sat on that still dark night when the keys were buried deep
Who had watched them sink within rich moist soil, their secrets there to keep,
Whose hearts were etched in the print of the plan, fired within a golden mold,
Would be called from far, would be called from wide, their stories to be told.

They would place their print in the palm of the plan, the heart’s song to be sung.
The earth would tremble, the soil would shift, and the birthing would have begun.
Then the ghosts of the past meet the spirits of the day, awash in a glow of light
And that which was sorrow, that which was pain, is dissolved by a higher might.

Soon a love song is sung through emerald rain, a song so full and so strong.
Its call can be heard through forests and fears, through hatreds and rivers long.
It’s a song we long for, a song held in our hearts, a song the world needs to hear
Brought from an island long known for words, sacred and destined and clear.

I had such a dream on a wayward night when the moon was riding high.
A dream of a future once hidden so deep whose time had finally arrived.
A dream with a voice, a dream with a name, a dream with a purpose true.
A dream that grabbed me by the heart and begged me to see it through.

                           Aliana Alani © 2016

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 …for the heart song of Ireland

Prelude to … ‘I Had A Dream’

 

MANY MOONS AGO, in what feels like eons but isn’t, just like eons can feel like moments but aren’t, I had one of those poignant experiences that it sometimes seems only time in The Green can give. It was the after edges of Samhain (Halloween to those who live west of The Big Pond), I was staying at a friend’s in an area that could easily be classified as desolate on a grey rainy day, which it was. There was a brooding feel to it all, as though something could pop out of the unexpected any moment. It was Ireland after all, so this was possible.

I STARED OUT a many-paned window as raindrops splattered on glass and a welcoming fire crackled from behind. I was looking at a leafless tree that resided along the edge of the driveway with birds now gathering on it. I watched. And strangely, I waited. When it seemed they had all arrived (for what I did not know), I counted. I admit it, I was curious – partly because there were so many, and partly because they were all ravens. Ravens, as some say, are superb magic makers, shape shifters par excellence, sounders of creative births. In other words, powerful. No one worth their emerald green seaweed would mess with them.

I ADMIT THESE WERE EARLY DAYS for me in The Green, still I swore I could feel the dulse of the sea beginning to cling to my very being (let alone my heart) and so I paid honour where honour was due, and promptly counted again. Yup, twenty-two. Twenty-two ravens perched on a tree, waiting. I had a feeling they were waiting for me.

SO I DID WHAT ANY SELF-RESPECTING BEING SHOULD DO. I asked what they wanted. ‘Be raven.’  They said. ‘Come see. Come see.’ What could one do but agree. After all, there were twenty-two.

AND SO the journey began.

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WHAT CAME OUT OF IT many hours later was a poem – a rather long one done in verse, which I don’t normally write. It was called, I Had A Dream. It touched my heart and brought tears to the eyes. I shared it with friends and a few I did not know. Then time marched on, I left The Green, and the poem, as poems sometimes do, went into the now-labelled ‘Poetry – Ireland’ file.

AND THERE it sat, until now.

I’M NOT SURE WHY I’m meant to share this with you. Perhaps it is the changing times. Perhaps within the blowing winds, the ravens are calling – ‘Come see. Come see.’ Perhaps it will touch your heart as it did mine. Perhaps, just perhaps, if you live in The Green or feel its stories wafting through your soul wherever you may be, it will sound a chord of remembering, and in so doing, awaken a long prophesied dream.

ONE TINY ADD-ON – It is my sense that there are places in this world that carry keys; keys that when re-discovered, and then used wisely, become of enormous benefit to us all on this fragile exquisitely beautiful planet. To me, Ireland carries one of those keys.

BECAUSE IT’S VERY LONG, I will share the poem with you in the next posting.

The Boogeyman

©Aliana Alani 2016

  Light Within The Darkness              EVERY STORY HAS A BOOGEYMAN, that nasty force that shows up when you least expect it, peeking through the shadows of the deep forest of your awareness (often called, your inner world). Sometimes there are even two or three, dancing around like toothless vultures in the wind. They delight in tantalizing, teasing, even terrorising. They look for the chinks in your armour, the cracks in your heart, and the storm clouds inside your mind. They eagerly sup on the doubts that linger and the anxieties that grow within you. They are especially fond of fear.

FEAR IS FOOD TO THE BOOGEYMAN, its own perverse, somewhat inverted, life force. It takes what you have so it can grow. It thrives on destruction. It likes things that fall away. Consequently it quite enjoys watching as you, and all that you might value, begin to crumble before its very eyes. It likes this even more than it does seeing you tremble – trembling being an example of escalating fear.

AT ITS FINEST, THE BOOGEYMAN becomes the quintessential vampire of the story, merrily sucking the energy out of existence. By the time you become aware of the extent of its intent, you are apt to find yourself fast-forwarding into that blackness commonly called, the void. You will, of course, emerge again. But that will be at a later date and possibly with fragments of the last journey embedded in your psyche.

IF YOU ARE ON THE ROAD to enlightenment, you are guaranteed to encounter The Boogeyman many times over in many ways and many forms. After all, it comes with the territory. All part of the journey, as the mystics might say. Are you told that when you start along its path? Probably not.

ENLIGHTENMENT, AND THE ROAD TO IT, requires a single-minded focus; a bit like candle gazing for the soul. No matter what is thrown at you, what changes in the script or bumps in the road, your mandate is to gaze upon the eternal light of creation and the heart of love. That and the peeling of the proverbial onionskin of your psyche are the skills necessary for that quantum leap that will, at some point, be required – that moment when you cannon-ball into another level of awareness and find yourself smack dab in the middle of all that is. Bank on it. Nothing less can prepare you adequately enough. It is like the hero’s journey. You must prove yourself worthy. How do you do that? By facing the darkness within as it manifests without. You must know who you really are. If you are to claim the Golden Cup of Enlightenment and drink of its endless blessings, you must ultimately see The Boogeyman for what it truly is – a plethora of smoke & mirrors, dust in the wind, illusion’s folly.

IF THE WORLD STORY YOU ARE a part of is also on the road to Enlightenment (and this one is), then expect a sometimes bumpy road. It won’t last forever, but it might seem like it at times. When the tempest swirls, and The Boogeyman’s roster of weapons dash and dive all around, there may be moments when you feel swamped in an overwhelming sadness, as though it is all pulling the very skin from your soul. It isn’t, but it may feel like that.

REMEMBER THIS – you don’t fight The Boogeyman by playing its game. If it dances devastation in front of you, you don’t win by creating more. If it surround-sounds you with neon images that say ‘fear me’, that is precisely the time that you do not fear. You be fearless. You stare at your own shadow. You turn around. No matter how destructive things appear to be, you see beyond. You see beyond.

YOU LOVE IN THE MIDST OF IT ALL. You laugh. You share hope and kindness and understanding, because that is the realm of love, and that is the way to the middle of all that is. You be who you truly are. You hold to that. You hold.  And sooner that you think, the fears within you will abate, the smoke around you will begin to dissolve, the dust will settle, and your world will come into a place of balance and harmony once again.

YOU BE WHO YOU TRULY ARE. You be the love. You hold to that. You hold.

 

Poetic Musings…

                                                                                                             ©Aliana Alani 2015

 

Soft in the light I wandercandle-flame

Angels hovering – waiting, protecting

‘To be or not to be’ sing the strains of Hamlet

The air ripe with questions

Perhaps even possibilities

And I, riding their undulating waves,

Await answers – but from where

To be

                what would that mean –

                                exactly?