Mystery of the Ninth Moon

By Tara White

Deep in Shamballa in the Himalayas, the Dalai Lama prepares to move up to a higher plane of consciousness. An astral spirit answers his prayers and appears, full of love, devotion, and wisdom. She comes as the faithful Labrador dog, Chakra. A missionary, a seer who can see the soul’s essence, Chakra is pure and divine wisdom.

Traveling to Australia, she finds Sophie Crystal, an internet TV reporter, and Elsie, a palmist, and awakens their destinies together. Seeing the vibrations and invisible colors and essences of life and the world, Chakra guides them to a belief in a higher and better world. Elsie and Sophie’s deep bond of friendship strengthens when Elsie meets Professor Dee, an expert on Eastern mysticism, who discovers Elsie owns a Tanka box containing ancient wisdom that can only be revealed in Shamballa. Journeying through the perilous beauty of the Himalayas, will they find complete enlightenment and happiness that will change their lives forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Nov 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984503251

Tara White

Janece Hélène Butterfly is the mother of Moon Maiden, Golden Girl, Star Shine. Mama Butterfly to Princess Alex, Treasure Jade, Gorgeous Gabby, and Handsome Harry lives in Geelong, Victoria, Australia. She is an intrepid outback traveler/camper, passionate creative artist, colour consultant, designer/dressmaker, shaman/alternative healer, spiritual philosopher, intuitive reader, and warrior woman of the rainbow spirit.

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Copyright © 2018 by Tara White.

ISBN:                Softcover                978-1-9845-0326-8

                          eBook                     978-1-9845-0325-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 01/17/2019

Xlibris

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Contents

A Mysterious Visitor

The Remembering

Chakra Meets Elsie

The Revealing

The Lantern of the Soul

Meeting of Spirits

Wherever the Moon Goes

The Awakening

Saying Goodbye, an old World Dies

The Three Become One

In a Fragrant Dream I Sensed You Smile

The Night Brings Counsel

I Live by a Dream than a Lie

Return to Forever

The Cobbler of the Lotus Pass

Professor Dee Says Goodbye

The Way In

The Whispering Pines

The Sage of Age

The Crystal Yogi

The Hall of Ancient Memories

Meeting Princess Di and Master Li Chi

Forbidden Fruit

Hope for the Pope

A Final Farewell

Physical Time Comes to an End and the Two Ascend

TARA WHITE was born in 1955, in Sonkajärvi, Finland. Her early childhood was spent in the relative isolation and tranquillity of the forests and lakes that surrounded her home. These fortuitous circumstances allowed her to develop an extraordinary communion with the unseen forces of nature. Her insights ultimately led to the discovery of the ‘Arcane Wisdom’. She has devoted thirty-five years of serious study and research into the science of yoga (Patanjali) and Sanskrit. Other passions include art and animal welfare.

The present 14TH Dalai Lama has fascinated Westerners with the exciting notion that the next Dalai Lama could very well be a Woman!, and would come from abroad, most likely from the West.

This favourable manifestation may serve the Buddha Dharma in a peculiar way, ‘A new bottle containing the ancient essence’. The perfume of the East exudes to the West, just as the fragrance of an exquisite incense pervades every quarter of an Ashram touching all equally, so the next reincarnation of a Female Dalai Lama would be a beautiful expression of a ‘new flower on the ancient vine of Love, Compassion, Wisdom’ through the body of a Female Buddha. Humanity would benefit tremendously by this elevating all to a higher turn on the Cosmic Spiral.

After all, the BUDDHA DHARMA being pure and genderless was never the sole domain of Tibetan Fraternity, like fresh air and salubrious sunshine free to all.

It was no mistake or accident that the Buddha Dharma would remain isolated behind the cold stone walls of Monasteries in Tibet and that the GODDESS would find safe refuge in the hidden vault of the present 14th Dalai Lama in India, now the West wind calls Her to a new refuge in the WEST, the wheel of wisdom ever turns, the Divine presents a fresh countenance and voice thru a female this time round.

Light to All

Tara White

The picture is my own creation using a classical theme with surrealistic embellishments. Sophie Crystal at Shamballa holds the mysterious ‘Tanka Box’ with its magical powers.

The Ninth moon streams Astral fluid to Chakra (middle of box) two female Deities materialize symbolising the many facets of the goddess. From Sophies pearl hair Mandala emanates the eight Chakra unifying spirit - matter, her initiation robe embossed with astral flowers, symbol of the natural Queendom.

The bottom left is ‘Master LAO’ the Abbot of ‘Shamballa’, rising genii like from a Tibetan teapot, above his head is the ‘Cosmic Fire’, also he holds a ‘Spirit lamp’ fuelled by Soul Fire.

‘Tzu’ the Raven (bottom right) sits quietly - watching. Dream essence exudes from Sophie: We all continue to dream dreams, we wake up and return to ‘Dream Time’. We are all illusionists seeking reality in MAYA.

TARA WHITE

With three hidden pens of light

I was taken on many night flights,

from Lady E’s pen came soft watery lines

of seventeenth century time.

From the Master ‘FB’

his prose and fine wit made everything fit,

his laughter brought so much joy!

From the Tibetan Master ‘L’,

he impressed his lines so well laced

by his golden smile

he allowed me glimpses of future time sublime.

Tara White

Celebrating the Chinese Year of the Dog

To Marie

Interior%20Image.png

Courtesy of Royal Geographic Society (with IBG)

Lingkhor Rimpoche

Seated in the Shining Crystal Monastery 1921 – (Note Lama on right holding Dog

A Mysterious Visitor

In the deep heartland of mysterious Tibet, where lonely wind-swept plains show their agonised faces through patches of frost in the mournful icy cry of the unrelenting Himalayan winds, the tattered prayer flags flap wildly in the eerie night. A carpet of gleaming diamonds adorns the firmament. A billion Buddha lights give the harsh Tibetan landscape a sense of purpose. Here, amongst the desolate, towering peaks, a secluded monastery stands silent, its silhouetted form coming briefly to life from the few reddish butter lamps that hang nonchalantly around its cold, granite walls.

Yet between the jeering, wild winds a soft drone is heard, its soft echo resounding in the depthless mountain canyons. The chanting leads into a huge, oblong-shaped hall, its massive stone walls decorated with images of golden Buddhas looking down serenely onto a group of lamas and disciples huddled together for warmth. Huge, colourful paintings and banners of previous Buddhas gently sway and fold, giving them a surreal movement. Some of the paintings are so ancient that parts have withered away, leaving a bare brick wall – a sobering reminder that all is impermanent and transient.

In a circle in the middle of the great hall is a large gathering of monks meditating, their dark red robes drawn tightly over their delicate frames. The reddish glass candles reflect gently onto them, giving the impression of a large bunch of tulips basking in the morning light. The monks chant in unison the Hymn of the Galaxy, its sweet, hypnotic melody inundating their bodies, their faces beaming with the Buddha Light.

To the side of the monks sits an elderly abbot on a faded orange cushion, his gleaming, serene face turned away from the circle, looking out of a portal in the wall. His eyes are transfixed by the heavens, waiting with infinite patience for the manifestation of a wondrous being. A tall and thin monk approaches, his hands folded in gratitude. He wears a yellow silk cap with silver stars; the cap symbolises that he is the chief astrologer of this monastery.

‘Is it time?’ the old abbot enquires without looking his way.

‘Almost,’ the tall monk whispers, holding back his excitement, folding the astrological chart into his robes and moving back to the circle.

Another, younger monk is diligently working on the kala chakra or Time Wheel; the vivid colours of the tanka are visible for all to see. Yet the two spokes of the kala chakra tanka are left open. The young artist suddenly sits upright, his eyes half-open in a trance, and fills in one of the spokes with an image, with remarkable rapidity. The tall Astrologer Monk looks joyfully his way and puts his icy hand onto the artist’s head as a sign of congratulation.

‘Yes, it is time, my dear abbot. Come.’

The sprightly old abbot moves graciously across the stone floor. He peers over the young artist’s shoulder and smiles broadly, revealing large crooked teeth.

‘We are indeed blessed for this confirmation from the Cos- mos. I thank the Buddha for his blessing in allowing me to see this wonderful event in my one hundred and seventh year.’

The jubilation was interrupted by Tzu, a beautiful, steely blue-black raven.

‘Tzu, you’ve come at last, and truly at a most auspicious time.’ Tzu flapped his wings wildly in the portal, oblivious to any monastery decorum, and then flew down onto an old wooden chest.

‘I see you’ve brought some snow with you,’ the old abbot said, smiling. ‘Yet there was no sign of any earlier this evening.’

The raven shrieked and fanned his mighty wings over the candles to dry them.

Again they were interrupted by a deep gong that sounded three times. The main entrance had huge wooden doors with faded brass fittings. Slowly it swung open, creaking and sighing. The Supreme Ruler of Tibet entered. All eyes were riveted to his most exalted, the Dalai Lama. The frail old lama was carried by eight monks in a large chair, decorated ornately with silver metalwork, which glittered and flashed in the candlelight.

The Dalai Lama was perched comfortably on orange, red and gold cushions and wore his ceremonial headdress, a tall pointed hat in a sandy gold colour. His face beamed, making the candle- light somehow duller in his presence. With eyes slightly closed he peered through those jet black diamonds, glancing at everybody and everyone prostrating themselves in loving devotion to him.

The old abbot approached the Dalai Lama, hands clasped in veneration. The Dalai Lama’s eyes opened wider and he greeted the Abbot like a long-lost friend.

‘Lao, my dear friend, what a great privilege to see and be with you.’ Lao bowed even further, almost touching the stone floor.

‘I see you are still sleek like the Tibetan leopard.’

‘Yes.’ The old abbot chuckled in merriment. ‘Thanks to you training me in the Three Fires. And being in your Holiness’s presence always elevates one’s soul.’

The Dalai Lama’s countenance changed to a soft lustre.

‘Immortality,’ raising his flute-like voice to a higher pitch, ‘has no reflection in Buddhist philosophy about reincarnation, yet some of our Tibetan brothers may confuse them. The soul within us endures for eternity. This is why all of the great Sages have developed the imperishable Diamond Body; its inherent light and lustre are divine, immutable qualities. I intend not to do the reverse,’ he paused quietly, ‘but to fall totally into the Diamond Body that I have co-created with all the golden Buddhas of the past and future.’

‘Forgive me, your eminence,’ the Astrologer Monk interjected, ‘are you vacating your throne forever?’

‘Bodies such as mine and I dare say yours, will in time’s glory become nothing but dust. I have no need for this vehicle any longer. It has served its purpose.’

Everyone listened so intently you could have heard the ash falling from incense to the floor. Even Tzu, the raven, sat in deep contemplation of the Grand Lama’s message.

‘In exactly fourteen sunrises, this vehicle will soon be no more.’ Some of the monks looked anxiously around.

The Dalai Lama read the thoughts of the monks.

‘No, my dear brothers, the next Dalai Lama will not be found in any of our monastery walls in Tibet. Nor in Tibet, for that matter.’ There was indeed some gasping; other eyes swelled with tears.

‘Will there be no Spiritual Light to guide us?’ asked the astrologer sadly.

‘My dear brothers, we are all united in the Buddha’s light. No thing can separate us. Separation and division are merely an illusion.’

The Dalai Lama touched his heart chakra, his long thin fingers pressed deeply into his marigold-coloured robe. Suddenly, Tzu, the raven, squawked, changing the atmosphere. Tzu squawked again. His eyes grew larger and he hopped around anxiously. The old abbot fixed his eyes onto the portal and moved closer, waiting. He signalled to the leader of the chanting circle to begin the hymn once again.

The Dalai Lama, knowing that a great event would materialise, nodded to his entourage to move him underneath a large, richly decorated wall tanka and from there sat looking towards the portal.

An electrifying atmosphere pervaded all. Then a singing wind made itself heard, similar to an orchestra of bamboo reeds being played. There was a strange aerial song and a sudden gust of a tiny stream of snowflakes fell gently on the stone floor, followed by a definite stream landing onto a large red cushion which was placed nearby the Dalai Lama for his long-awaited guest.

The snowflakes very quickly assumed a strange shape. All watched in eager anticipation and marvelled at the invisible sculptor who was forming and directing a most beautiful ice statue.

‘Oh!’ said one of the monks, as the ice image became totally discernible.

Much to the jubilation of the Dalai Lama and the old abbot, a pure-white Labrador dog, with with almond shaped, sapphire blue eyes filled with joyful wisdom, appeared.

‘Chakra!’ the Dalai Lama called with renewed vigour.

‘Yes, my venerable friend.’ Chakra’s large, soft, glistening eyes fell on him.

‘Since the age of eight and becoming the spiritual leader of Tibet, I’ve heard stories, fabulous stories from the seven Ancient Ones, that you would indeed bless us with a materialisation once again, for we do joyfully acknowledge that the essence of our spiritual knowledge and philosophy can be traced to you and your kind from Sirius, the Dog Star.’

‘Indeed, my friend, we have visited your flock five times previously as a gesture of divine friendship.’ Chakra paused and continued, ‘We chose the Tibetan people because your astral and mental bodies were more finely tuned to our frequency, and being at the top of the world virtually, and not contaminated by outside vibrations, we saw that it was right and true to begin initiations into our system of spiritual knowledge. Indeed, you and your people are quite worthy.’ Chakra smiled, etching a most beautiful poem into all that witnessed and listened to her magical words.

The Dalai Lama moved closer. ‘My dear Chakra, we welcome you here, and the visions you have sent to the old abbot and myself over the past six years have been acknowledged. We move to the final stage of the kala chakra tanka wheel, for we flow with the Divine Stream. Its supernal waters carry us ever closer to the cosmic source of our Being.’

Chakra sat still like a Buddha. The great hall was silent as everyone listened to the wonderful dialogue.

‘Chakra, may I please have the pleasure of giving you some- thing that the previous traveller from Sirius left us?’

‘But of course, my dear friend, of course.’

Another monk rushed to the side of the Dalai Lama and presented a small rectangular box with enigmatical lettering on the lid.

‘Ah,’ said Chakra joyfully. ‘That was the gift to the seventh Dalai Lama from the Sixth Immortal. The inscription is the ancient language of Sensai.’

‘Yes it was, and a fine gift at that. Would you be kind enough to decipher the inscription?’ the Abbot enquired serenely.

‘It has been a great debate amongst the learned lamas for over one thousand years.’

‘But of course, gladly,’ said Chakra. ‘It says: Paths are made by shoes that walk them; they are by no means shoes in themselves.’

Everyone present beamed happily at the fine erudition of Chakra.

‘Yes, my dear friend,’ Chakra beamed at the Dalai Lama with her soul-deep eyes, ‘time is indeed of the essence. I have a journey to make to the other side of the globe to confirm your answer – Your Holiness – and time is indeed short for all of us. When Venus shows her supernal face with the full moon as a mirror, she will reflect a mighty secret to all of the world.

‘Yes, fourteen sunsets will reveal a new sunrise in the consciousness of the world, a new, bright light.’

The Dalai Lama, the old abbot and Chakra are the only ones that know what is to come into the world; a stupendous and mighty secret can only be known and revealed by the three.

The Abbot came closer to both of them.

‘Chakra, can I send one of my trusted guides with you?’ He turned to Tzu, the raven. ‘Come, Tzu, come.’ Tzu flew onto the Abbot’s arm. ‘Go to that part of the world. Reveal your silent story to the one we need.’

Tzu shrieked with delight at such a noble request, fanning his mighty wings. He looked at the old abbot and the Dalai Lama to say goodbye. In an instant he was off, gliding majestically through the portal and into the inky darkness. The Abbot, for a few seconds closed his eyes and sent beautiful thoughts and a safe passage to Tzu.

‘A noble creature you have,’ Chakra said, looking his way.

‘Yes, Chakra, he has been with me for over forty years. A true gift from God,’ he replied, placing his hand on his heart.

Chakra turned once again to the Dalai Lama, who was looking a little pale, and sensed the imminent departure of the Dalai Lama.

‘As you both know, my form is decidedly astral and I will experience strange transitions. My molecular form is at this moment held by an act of will and it is an illusion, except to those of higher vision. I am using an energy transfer between all of us here, especially you, my kind abbot, as you will sustain my form with your latent powers. However, I will hold my form perfectly in the sunlight hours, and will be objectively real to anyone. But in the last flicker bringing darkness, I will be able only to move in my astral form, and cannot become physical until the following sunrise. So I will make this journey to the West to search for the One.’

Before Chakra’s dematerialisation, the Abbot looked at the Dalai Lama. ‘Please, Chakra, come here before you leave us on your journey.’ Chakra jumped up onto the cushion next to the Dalai Lama. The Abbot opened the strange rectangular box and slowly pulled out a bright orange band. At the end was an exquisite silver bell with a pointed quartz pendulum. There he placed with great care the orange silk band with its silver bell around Chakra’s neck.

‘It sings so sweetly – what a fine gift.’

‘Yes, Chakra, a very special bell from your predecessors of wisdom. The old abbot will be in touch with you. He will hear the sweet tinkling wherever you are.’

‘Yes, I can hear his telepathic messages already,’ said Chakra. Chakra hopped down onto the stone floor. She was surrounded by a throng of monks, clasping their hands in veneration to her. The chanting resumed once again and Chakra, from the Dog Star Sirius, burst into a ball of pink light and vanished.

The Dalai Lama, beaming but fatigued, resumed his lotus posture on a pile of cushions; his hands folded into one another delicately like the petals of a rose.

‘I will sit here, until it’s time, when the One returns with Chakra.’ He then sat and closed his eyes gently. Serenity filled his pale face. For fourteen days and nights the Dalai Lama did not move, or partake in food or water – a great feat of surrender.

The Abbot moved towards the other monks and whispered to them to remain silent. The young artist replaced his pastel paints into their wooden box. The astrologer was deep in concentration with his charts. As evening came, the orange and red candles’ soft flickering danced joyfully onto the faces of them all, as they fell into a deep meditation.

The Remembering

‘With subtle increments of learning shall you grow. To bloom into the fullest hour of wisdom. So with soul breeze you’ll sail on infinite waters!’

The tranquil voice seemed to come from a soft white cloud swirling above her. Sophie looked up to the cloud. Standing precariously close on a ledge, she stood on her toes, strained to peer over the cloud, and wondered, ‘How did I get here?’

Tzu, the raven, flew through the cloud, leaving a wispy vapour trail behind. High he circled around Sophie. She clutched haphazardly at the wispy trail hoping to at least hold onto something.

‘Become one of us,’ the tranquil voice spoke. Sophie looked up at the beautiful manoeuvres Tzu, the raven, was displaying.

‘Let go! Sophie, let go!’ the voice implored. With her arms stretched out like a golden eagle, her marigold hair gently whipping the sides of her pale moon face, she closed her eyes and felt the edge of the cloud with her foot. It seemed warm and soft like a newborn puppy’s fur, so she walked onto the edge of the cloud. Show no fear as the Divine will carry you.’ Inspired by the tranquil voice she stepped quickly onto the cloud, and as soon as she did so, she fell through.

Spinning wildly and twisting like a tangled kite, Sophie yelled, ‘Aaahh! Aaahh!’ the screams disappearing into the atmosphere. Plunging earthward at a colossal speed, her mind became numb, her long skirt wrapping furiously around her like an aerial mummy of old Egypt. The raven swooped around her, trying desperately to prevent her sure death, its wings flapping across Sophie’s face.

There was a sickening crash, and the sound of something tearing.

Sophie lay there, her head pounding wildly. She felt her legs and touched her fingers. ‘I’m alive! But… what? Oh dear.’

Sophie looked around her room. A gust of wind had dislodged the curtain rail partly onto her bed. The curtain had also knocked over a large glass