The White Cat´S Book

By Sirkka Shayan and Marjo-Kaisu Niinikoski

This is a storybook for adults. It is a gateway to another world, offering you a choice: do you want to have a dream that is not true or wake up to reality, where you can let go of your dream pictures?

The White Cats Book is a collection of spiritual fairy tales. It contains ten tales, connected by an adventurous white cat who appears now in the eastern lands, now in the tropics, and sometimes in homey rural settings. You might meet her at the fringes of a hot, sandy desert as well as in the ice-cold Antarctic.

Above all, the white cat goes out in search of adventures in the landscapes of the mind. Her message to you is, You are what you think. By changing your mind, you change your life. And by giving up through real forgiveness of what you thought you were, you will wake up from your minds dream and find out who you really are.

Marjo-Kaisu Niinikoskis touching stories and Sirkka Shayans delicate illustrations will take you deep into the recesses of your mind, to a place where you can finally meet your true Self.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Nov 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781452530291

Sirkka Shayan

Marjo-Kaisu Niinikoski is a Finnish author, storyteller, journalist, life coach, and businesswoman. She currently lives in Finland, but she has travelled for long periods in India. She has also lived in France, and in the United Arab Emirates in the Persian Gulf region. Therefore, she is well familiar with Indian and Arab culture. In her inspirational writings, she is focusing on forgiveness, joy, and spiritual awakening. www.whitecatsbook.com www.valkoinenkissa.com Sirkka Shayan, a Finnish graphic artist, illustrator, translator, and author, has published several books. She currently lives in Finland, but she has lived abroad for thirty years, mostly in the United States, England, Italy, and Australia. She is also familiar with Persian culture. www.webwarp.com

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Copyright © 2015 Marjo-Kaisu Niinikoski (text) Sirkka Shayan (illustrations and translation)

Original title of the book in Finnish:

Valkoisen kissan kirja

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

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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.

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.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-3028-4(sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-3029-1 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 11/24/2015

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To Those with No Name

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To the White Zen masters Pilvi, Rumba, and Samba

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Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.

                                                                                                                                            —Mark Twain

We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts.

                                                   With our thoughts, we make the world.

                                                                                     — Siddhārtha Gautama

Acknowledgements

You are holding in your hand a book that was born out of curiosity. Since childhood I have been curious and thirsting for knowledge. At an early age I already felt loneliness and sensed that I was an outsider. I missed my Self profoundly.

However, I suspected that there had to be something else, something that would bring an answer to my longing.

I sought for an answer from the world. I sought it everywhere, but I only managed to find crumbs of happiness.

It was an early April afternoon in rural Hyvinkää, Finland, in 2008. I was cycling home from the place where I had visited a neighbour’s horse. I had given the horse carrots and love. He had offered me a wet muzzle.

The wheels of my bicycle rolled along gently. I stopped at a wooden bridge and got off the bike saddle. Underneath the bridge, a river was roaring for spring after the winter. I was left staring at the river’s run when suddenly these words came to my mind: You need to tell them about the secret of Shamballa.

Now, years later, I am about to answer the request of the river. I will tell you all that I have been told. I will also leave it up to you to realize what that secret is and how it is revealed.

The White Cat’s Book is my thanks to life. It is my thanks to the Spirit, who has carried me from one lifetime, one country, and one continent to another, and especially, has guided me to search my own little mind. Since, by looking at it, I have received at least momentary glimpses of who I am not.

For the birth of this storybook, I also thank my mother, Kaisa Niinikoski, and my father, Kauko Niinikoski, as well as my siblings, Merja, Leena, Ilkka, and Timo, with whom I have been allowed to grow up. I love you dearly.

I also thank the friends I have met in Finland and in other parts of the world. You have always supported me in everything. You mean the world to me.

Thanks to you, my wonderful life coach teacher, Anne Karilahti, and to you, my fabulous fellow students. You helped me to make my dreams come true. I am so happy about you.

Thanks to my ex-husband, Ahmed, and my ex-partner, Venu. You gave me the great opportunity to look at myself in the mirror.

I thank my illustrator and translator, Sirkka Shayan. It has been absolutely great fun to work with you. Thanks also to my colleague Reetta Ahola. Without your open mind, the storyteller in me might never have awakened. Thanks also to Nancie Godwin, who has kindly proofread the drafts of the book. And thank you, Gary R. Renard, for your life work and inspiration. I would also like to mention the supportive dream team of Balboa Press. You rock!

Huge thanks go to the wise books, without which this book would not be in your hand now. Without the teachings of the great thinkers who wrote those books, I would still be missing my Self. Without them, I would still be searching.

I would also like to thank my white cat Pilvi, who passed away and went to the heaven of cats. You, four kilos and two hundred grams of pure love, were my muse and the joy of my life.

And thanks to you, my new muse, Yijing: you brave, white oriental cat bring great joy, laughter, and enthusiasm to my life.

And to all the animals of this world, thank you. You have helped me to see differently. You are my great teachers.

Writing these fairy tales has been inspired by the teachings of A Course in Miracles and by the music of Karunesh. Both have given room to my soul and wings to my imagination. Most of all, they have given the Holy Voice an opportunity to work with me. O how wonderful all of that has been!

Creating this book has shown me that life here is continuous death. It is said that curiosity killed the cat. You decide whether or not this will be the case for the white cat.

Marjo-Kaisu Niinikoski

Järvenpää, Finland, at midsummer, the time of the nightless night, 2015

Table of Contents

The Mirrors of Shamballa

The Voyage on a Spice Ship

After the Rain

A Drop in the Ocean

The Seven Seals

The Pilgrimage

The Mouse Who Thought She Was Grey

Amrita’s Letter

The Moth

The Circus

The Mirrors of Shamballa

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F arther than far and nearer than near, in a place where people do not usually walk, there is a place called Shamb alla.

It is a place whose gilded gates open to those whose heart is light and whose mind is clear, filled with peace, and free of guilt. It is the inner reality of everyone, a shrouded paradise where no one any longer thinks, speaks, or acts through anything other than truth.

One early morning, I woke up from my deep sleep to a state of mind, in which I met an old man. Wisdom and humility radiated from him in a way that made me stop. He approached me from afar and stopped at a distance.

Following him with my eyes, I was puzzled. The old man appeared outwardly to be an outcast—a despised creature among other despised creatures.

The man’s long, matted hair; unkempt beard; flushed cheeks; rugged nose; and deep facial lines told of a life that had been lived. His faded coat and worn shoes revealed that in life things are not always what they seem.

This aged man was genuine in a way that could not be ignored. There was something touching about him, as if he had found his inner peace and realized his true Self. Still, there was nothing special about him that he would have wanted to call attention to in himself.

He just was.

As the old man approached me slowly, something in me moved. His gaze was so gentle that it made me let go of all my prejudices. His playfulness and generosity charmed me. He drew me towards him like a magnet attracting an iron key.

The old man called me by my name. My amazement had no boundaries when he revealed his whole dazzling beauty, alive in front of my eyes.

He came ever closer to me and finally whispered in my ear, You need to tell them about the secret of Shamballa.

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At that very moment, I saw before me a hand-forged key that was being fitted into a weathered iron lock in a massive wooden door. First, a flimsy picture of what was beyond the door flashed in my mind. Then, a clear series of pictures was opened in front of me, revealing a secret vision. I could not believe it was true, for so simple but ambiguous it appeared to me.

This is the secret that you all carry within you, within the deepest chambers of the mind, the old man said. "You don’t have to do anything other than let it reveal itself, according to your own free will. But remember that your only free-will choice is the one you make between fear and love."

The next moment, the old man introduced me to three creatures that he described as regular residents of Shamballa. They were to become my travel guides.

Travel guides to where? I asked, full of doubt. I am not leaving to go anywhere.

A pure white cat strutted in front of me and greeted me with joy and self-esteem. She played at my feet, arched her back as a sign of friendship, and pushed against my ankles first with her head and then with her round rump.

I greet you, O my noble friend, the cat said, following this with a meow.

"My name is Swetha, which means ‘pure white,’ although in reality I have already joined Those with No Name. Did you know that I am the most lovable creature on earth? You should also think the same about yourself."

The loud purr of the cat and the sense of humour radiating from her made me feel right at home.

Then I was shown an old horse standing by a river where whitecaps rushed by. The horse looked at me in the way that one looks when there is no longer fear in one’s heart. His only purpose seemed to be to serve others.

Do you know, my little friend, why my mind is always light and my heart is bubbling with joy? the horse asked. It is because I hold no grievances against anyone. You too can learn to think only thoughts of joy.

Finally, I caught a glimpse of a huge bird gliding over a snow-capped mountain. His task was to remind us that we all can learn to fly if we are ready to free our minds and start believing in the unlimited Source that lies dormant within us.

The bird told me that I too should learn to fly.

You shall tell everyone that their first journey on wings begins when they learn to let go, the eagle said.

My dream state shifted back to the presence of the old man. He said he had come to me in order to bring an invitation to Shamballa that was addressed to me.

But your journey will not be easy, the aged man said, because on your path there will be many mirrors, in which you will see those faces of yours which previously you have not wanted to see. If you can truly confront yourself and strip off your false self, you will be able to reach the destination. Eventually, your journey will change your whole life.

My task was to be a kind of a guinea pig, an example of an incomplete human child whose mind should be changed completely in order for him to be ready to step into the realm of unconditional love.

The realm of unconditional love? What, I wonder, is that supposed to be? I asked, puzzled.

You will know when it is time, the aged man replied. And then he disappeared in front of my eyes.

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My journey to Shamballa had begun. I was full of uncertainty and even felt a tinge of fear inside me. At the same time, however, my mind was filled with excitement and my heart became light with joy.

Surprisingly, even to me, I had accepted the invitation because, in some primitive way, I felt that a force was pulling me towards Shamballa, as if something invisible were guiding me.

Suddenly, I was standing in the middle of a huge, mirrored hall. I knew by instinct that this was the very place where I would meet myself naked, without any cover.

There were a myriad of mirrors around me, all of them reflecting the different phases of my life so far. As images streamed past quickly, I was shown the joys and sorrows of my life, the successes and failures. I saw how all of it was a repeating continuum, just like a movie projected on the silver screen or a theatre performance being played out on the stage.

Isn’t it quite stirring? I heard a voice echo through the hall of mirrors.

You might have already glimpsed that what you have imagined being your life and your whole world is just a movie that the projector, hidden in the recesses of the mind, reflects onto the screen. Many people are unhappy with the picture they see and try to change it—only to experience new disappointments.

Who are you? I asked, frightened.

Don’t you worry about that, the voice replied.

In front of me opened up the view of a child who was holding in his hand an instrument that looked like it was made of plastic. Just when the child was slipping a circular disc inside the device, I heard the voice again. "Your life is like that series of images that you see when you peer through the View-Master. Sometimes you see happy pictures, and sometimes you