Adina … Adonai

By Elsa De Visser

Take your time, switch into an attentive mode to take on a serene and brilliant world: a world as to the future! It is a vibrant and revealing world which here opens. The guidelines intact. At turning the pages one soon enough becomes aware the more so at each gathering page, of the treasure here: Strung like pearls and jewels along a brilliant directive, affecting the reader with a sense of the tremendous: Looking at the world and life and existence through the powerful lens of a unique vision. Where all comes together unto a hopeful and unprecipitated Renewal, while the author also points at the eventful 2012.
An elaborate tapestry, in actualities of startling beauty. A rare treasure to have come upon: a fortunate and inestimable find!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477277881

Elsa De Visser

The author was born near Antwerpen in Belgium. Her awarenesses date back to phenomena and unexplained occurrences since the age of twelve, and perhaps even beyond that: When first being placed in the lap of her great grandmother the wise old lady, sought out and renowned in her day by youth in the area, requested that this particular infant be dedicated in a special ceremony concerning the heavenly. The author's insights in this summation gather onward; overflowing from an origin of depth, the abundance of which she shares with us here. As a Canadian citizen, Elsa De Visser resides in Alberta, with her children now grown, while enjoying home and pets; finding the quiet countryside ever and still so rewarding observing nature and the world around her.

Book preview

ADINA…

ADONAI

Elsa De Visser

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AuthorHouse™

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© 2012 by Elsa De Visser. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/25/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7789-8 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7731-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-7788-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012918396

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 This Frosty Winter Scene

Chapter 2 Oh! The Scenery

Chapter 3 This Name Adonai

Chapter 4 The Sun Arises . . . Brilliantly!

Chapter 5 Letters

Chapter 6 A Memorable Day

Chapter 7 While Roses Bloom

Chapter 8 From Hereon In

Chapter 9 A Magnificent Gateway

Chapter 10 Quiet the Commotion!

Chapter 11 To Light a Thousand-fold Candles

Chapter 12 Go to Your Center of Silence

A very special thank you to my daughter Arlet, for her dedication, effort and willingness contributed each time, with all the books. Much appreciated.

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From nothingness it all began . . .

Now monkeys sway on branches,

and there in outer space goes Man!

His spaceships leaving fiery trails

in outer space.

Introduction to:

ADINA . . . ADONAI

This name Adina, as first it entered awareness so softly and unobtrusively, when later now and then throughout the following year at intervals it would emerge again, as the impact of the name became the more insistent. So that I wondered and did not fit it in somehow. While at each turn it further impressed itself in the unique and noble implication of its unforeseen power.

It was mystifying, as at each turn with wanting to place it, as if from somewhere or toward something perhaps.

Had to cease and desist then, not to think on it any further and left it alone.

Till sometime later: like a Sun arising in the full brilliance of a Dawn in full Splendor . . . Adonai!

To realise at once the answer now, in an instantaneous and tremendous knowing: It is the title! The title to a book not as yet begun. Except for this knowing now . . . And as such it was.

Chapter 1

ADINA . . . ADONAI

This frosty Winter scene - like a picture postcard. Branches of trees in delicate hoary frost; surrounding bedecked in a thin layer of snow so pure, all enveloped in a gentle loveliness of tinted skies.

Such peace within a stillness so unique . . . . Indoors, even there strains of music impress from a Concerto with several violins, as their strains affect one onward and yet deeper into the wondrous. So that one feels endorsed then, as it were enticed in turn to express of that which resonates, touching one’s soul to an answering from within, which must find a way out.

The dogs as they lay about, quite in an awaiting alert with an extra glint flickering swiftly in those eyes at times; all friskied they are, ever at the ready since an energetic walk all the more enlivened.

They will settle soon, may even doze off awhile. Another log put on the fire, while the wood lights up and crackles momentarily, catching flame.

One becomes stilled as such, reaching gradually to a state of restful alert again the more serene. Stilled once more and mindful yet of the unique surrounding, as it was when we walked.

Gazing off and on at the flickering fire, at the licking little flames now and then as they rejoin in a swift exchange of added flame.

It is then sometimes as if something from and ancient recall awakens to arise out of remote near forgotten depths. Something with added familiarity amid the mystery nevertheless. To let it speak then to one’s inner being: when it connects at such moments from that wide expansive region, the which may open at such times from off the ever enterprising tendencies from within. Such regions as may have become readied within us.

Still . . . Once upon a time then on a sunshiny day it was that a little girl felt she had a question which really needed some input. Just then it seemed sort of urgent even, nevertheless her home surrounding there with the cozy little prattle of birds so familiar, joyous and comforting.

Playfully she makes a pirouette around her favorite tree and leaning awhile against it, her eyes wandering to what is ever so well known and familiar to her, the varied items in her surrounding surveillance.

On this particular day now she pauses, wondering on awhile, as she was tended of lately and the more so just now, as to the why . . . and how of things? A score of things when mostly left to her own conclusions.

Like that time when a pretty bird, a quite unusual bird had landed in a tree on a branch above her, there in the garden.

Then in her excitement to want to touch it or even hold it for awhile . . . Her Father had looked on, a bit startled at first and awhile later then with a mischievous smile he’d advised her to quickly . . . . run and get some salt indoors, so as to throw it on the bird’s tail and she’d be able to catch it then.

Already in her excitement at once halfway in a turn to quickly go fetch the salt, instead though the quick flash of a thought had stopped her in her track and she was a bit put off then as well, No Daddy . . . . Not sooo . . .

She had been tested! The beautiful bird, well . . . flown away and gone soon enough.

This time however as she leaned back against her tree, on this particular day alone here in the garden, with thoughts intent on something of a riddle. It preoccupied her somewhat for awhile. A thought quite unprecipitated, entering at random and out of the blue.

A young child amid the maelstrom of her inquiry, confronted with her six year old intent to know as to: Where did she come from . . .

How? And from where did she arrive to be here?

Where were we before—and now here?

Parents as it was, years ago could be a bit vague at such times. A bit non descript on such matters with explanations such as: Well babies, they arrive in a big ship, then Moms and Dads can buy a baby when they want one, if they want a baby!

For awhile, simple enough an explanation, although a bit simplistic all in all, so quite inconclusive.

And while the child would either not bother further or would simply be left to its own resources still in need to a legible answer, which so often was the case.

Yet to her at the time, the one resource remained: She had sensed it intuitively, as from a deeper knowing from somewhere within. An emotional outgoing from an inner capacity. She had sensed it as such.

As it were the child within perceived, or knew in a subconscious urging, on that basis, from a larger mightier self.

Of such knowing then, with discerning in that manner. As if an inner particle of this child, once upon a time . . .

As if once upon a time she had arrived then, in this her home area, while now she gazes about her, turning over the matter, weighing it out and reasoning further. Looked upwards then in a verifying and assured manner: It would have been like that—yes like that! Right there . . . where she would have perched at first even at the outer side of the window upstairs, the window of her parent’s room there. And from that point she would have landed, from upon that perch there at the window: In such manner then the child that was to be theirs, had come to them that way! Although to them, she would as yet have been invisible.

From upon that perch there at the window high up, where she would have entered magically.

Alighting as an invisible little spirit, upon Mother and Father’s breast where their heart is.

As such they would have accepted gladly, and silently welcomed what was to be their baby, their child. How could it be otherwise!

As such she had reasoned, the child then that she was. As yet entirely unmindful of the actual physical, material counterpart. Simply in knowing foremostly and instinctively of the vast primary spirituality.

This was the basis, the only within her means to reason from. To her the One, the true Reality after all.

Upon consideration, still and after all, the child, that child of times past, isn’t it there still? It could be there inward from another time, another world.

At times then such reflecting, were it a particle would have remained.

At times you can feel it, the child from within, skipping, dancing merrily about in a cadence and the rhythm of surrounding.

Since past, present and future, as it is claimed—abide all into one. As if in a timeless entering momentarily into a magical existence where one is partaken of a universal rhythm, verily in the dance of the molecule itself. Guided along then and enticed, amid and in a melodious existence, whereat, at once partaken within the immeasurable reaches. Where the music of the spheres when perceived does motivate further into fulfilling one’s being, exultantly. Unto the unforgettable!

To the inner eye, the child skips merrily along, as it were forever the child.

Such beneficence! What tremendous gift then it is all in all . . . That which could be! Though most would be unconscious of such possibility.

She returns in secret, because of hidden gifts even so deposited, where and whenever circumstance dictates.

And so the child innocent of it all could well have been a mirage. All the while uncountable molecules spin on, in and outward and on forming wondrous formations in color abounding amid impressive and truest versatility.

Enduring creations full of wonder and more than human capacity alone could sustain. This capacity then of which we know so little about.

The wonders do abound, as from a radiant Earth yet laying hidden beyond veilings. Ever and still while we are awaiting our readiness: A humanity to be shaken in time from its lasting slumber.

As such, when the true Light dawns and the hold finally releases. Simply in knowing foremostly and instinctively of the vast and primary spirituality.

This was the basis, the only within her then, although as yet unspoken.

Sometimes, there are those special times that have a way of occurring, or something comes our way and with it another matter may enter in so as to jointly ignite imagination to added input and clarification.

So it seemed when one day my daughter handed me her stethoscope and said: Here listen to it awhile and tell me, but here listen awhile! she said quietly, her questioning eyes having a hint of mystery in them.

And as I am holding to the stethoscope to listen momentarily, impressed soon enough with listening the more attentively—were it to become a means then, as her eyes had hinted of it. Possibly a tool now to an unsuspected input!

The sounds so diverse at intervals, so mysterious and as it were revealing. Amazing as well, while we simply could have remained unaware of it, of the own inner workings in each all along.

Knowing, realizing again that it’s all so marvelously incomprehensible! so mysterious throughout.

Taking it from there then, with such added input to think from a state where each of us, at one time did emerge from:

IN UTERO . . .

Do you remember it - as it was then! Reflecting, softly. Reflecting now on such as was a memorable stage—a not quite forgettable reality: Such as it was . . .

Miniscule . . . Yet, perception awakening ever so gradually as from a pinpoint.

A tiny dot at first—a fractional point until then enveloped within time amid an unseen creative element, within a first awareness, of sound.

Tactile awareness: Feeling, hearing, sensing! A great generator—perceptions as if clouds or masses moving, as in space travel somehow.

Sense of mystery . . . as in traveling at times with sounds as from gurgling water or streaming.

Otherways the great silence, laden with the unknown and the heartbeat there, ever present. Life! yet for now in a veiled manner, impressed upon with the yet undiscovered—on a colossal track.

Life’s great generator pressing onward from that something within, where it is yet to emerge—from the veiled existence at last into earthy reality and such further awakening.

The suspense! The mystery of the slowly revolving cloud, sounding like muffled thunder, there in the vaguely perceived distance . . . Poignant!!!

Softly a presence—a vaporous mass amid its mysterious sounds, like muffled thunder that builds in the distance. Yet near so near—it is a presence, mysterious, meaningful, impacting, unto far reaching impressions that linger. Set off like connections from far off recurring memories.

Effective pointers, such that do not simply evaporate—do not go, once the receptive abilities are opened more and more in the developing fetus.

Awareness . . . Baby sucks its thumb amid the vital airs, the comforting sustaining sounds of its unborn state. It will carry its impressions into subconscious knowing . . . ever onward, although yet in its unborn state.

It’s often pets that keep us in touch too—with a refreshing quality, as only animals and children will convey. As unaffected as they are in being utterly natural and so quite spontaneous. They are humble as well and optimistic, where we as adults tend to become anxious at times and beset with unidentified fears all too readily. If we could but take from certain such hints and from off such joyful confidence the more readily.

This morning getting up, feeling in awhile an impression as of a subtle awareness: A knowing as from an all around knowing, to be existing at close range with that, which now awaits us for the human approach.

Were it of a level still or from beyond our average or habitual sight.

As from an opening . . . it was definitely there like an impress that lingered, a possibility! Depending on one’s receptivity or readiness as such.

Just now, it’s a knowing of it as is. Adapting for now, if only at this time in the acknowledging of such possible openings.

Since it is a mysterious life, filled to the brim with possibilities.

Although first comes Sight, where we See and acknowledge with eyes endorsed, with other than the mere physical sight.

It’s quite a composite coming together then of one’s whole being in its varied levels: The person, soul, mental affectuation, quality and capacity of heart—particular constitution and strengths in all around balance.

Yet, the openness then mainly, which sweeps up the whole in its willing readiness, in the endowing radiance of true enlightenment.

To think and all the while this, amid the daily grind throughout the average doings more or less, so day by day. All these earthy comings and goings that seem so ordinary.

Yet a Light shines, accompanying us. When at times we are again reminded to exclaim: Nay . . . there’s more—so endlessly more to it all! Truly it’s not the Real all this! But That then—the Light which would light everyone unto the Real!

Yesterday on our walk while near Winter now, yet mild enough with things beginning to melt because of a Chinook.

This particular day we had the occasion to meet a lovely breed of dog on the pathway as he came towards us, with his owners calling after him mildly and calm like.

We thought it advisable to halt awhile, since our so frisky dogs can be a handful at such times. They’re so excitable then at such possible encounters.

As we stood there temporarily and the creature with the wrinkled face approached, to stop then as well in his track . . .

How odd! While the lovely young woman with her man at her side also approached and in her smiling manner we soon learned that her dog, that breed was a Sharpei! Wrinkles and all it continued standing there as such in friendly and inquiring manner as if awaiting and with those facial wrinkles . . . it seemed to hold our frisky pair at a stance for awhile, all so agreeable like.

A few pleasantries, and then we were off. Although something, then and there in particular formed into an acknowledging, and afterthought . . .

Would not have stated it aloud even to the lady just then but: Your aura—it is just singing!

At last and still all in all, part of what made it an outstanding day!

The Chinook winds are strong this day, wildly raging even at times. The music so marvelously in accordance all along, it gives the feeling as of a triumphant entrée amid all the fanfare and goings on, it were as in a rightly timed victorious occurrence of power verily and of exuberance.

The impact of sound and of music at times when it emphasizes matters and it all seems so rightly timed to have come about, exactly then at such encouraging instances.

A voice calling! When it calls your name . . . Attention required! The meaning is simple enough: the alert required. Your name is called . . .