Chapter 3. Becoming a Star

Over the next 5 days, I have 5 tasks for you.

1. Today: Read this newsletter.
2. Tuesday: In your Sacred Hour Sacred Space (SHSS). I want you to look directly at your SH and list why that hour is sacred? 

• How are you able to carve out that specific hour? 
• Why are you able to carve out this specific hour?
• Journal about your sacred hour in whatever way pleases you. Mind-map. 8-station mind-map. List. A 12-word narrative even. I want you to hold it in your hand and examine it with all its implications opening all the rabbit holes of possibility burrowed in there.

3. Wednesday: In your SHSS, look directly at your space. But push further and link it to your superhero self. This morning I did my 12-words in bed directly after my hour’s meditation. I was completely in control. Like when ​Superman returns to his special place. Or Batman is in the Batcave. 

• ​Why does your superhero align with your safe space​? 
• Why does your superhero feel safe in this space?
• How can you make it belong to them more?
• As above, investigate it in the journalling style of your liking.

4. Thursday: In your SHSS, review the favourite book you are listening to now. I am listening to Love in the Time of Cholera. The micro-short review: Marquez layers details that create such a real world that when I am in the little Nerja church, for shade while waiting for a taxi, listening to the function before the funeral of the guy who has poisoned himself, I am fully immersed in the book, inside it, the candelabras, everything, belongs to this decadent place. Yet, in the functionality of the items, the objects, though far, far, sparser I can see my style. 

• ​For one hour lose yourself in understanding the book you are now reading​.
• Why does it mean so much to you?
• How has it contributed to you as a hero? 
• And to your writing?
• As above, investigate it in a journalling style of your liking. Which might be a combination of list, 8-station, 12-word narrative, headings, images, memories of other books you have loved. Allow it to open you up. Surprise yourself.

5. Friday: This week’s title is — Becoming a Star.

• What tangible object do you immediately see?
• Number a list 1 — 12.
• List 12 things you associate with that object.
• You have 20 minutes to write.
• You must use your object, and 12 associations under your title.
• Remember you are exclusively in the 3^rd person.
• You are the narrator in the reader’s eyes.
• In your eyes you are both the narrator and the protagonist once removed.

Title: Becoming a star

Object: The Horse’s Head nebula

12 associations

1. Implode
2. The horse’s head nebula
3. Hubble telescope
4. Fear
5. Space
6. Darkness
7. Legend
8. Walking towards each other
9. Going to Stonehenge
10. A pilgrimage, ​(of course it is a pilgrimage​)
11. Pot of gold, treasure
12. Nybakat

Once upon a time, it is gorgeous sentences. Gorgeous sentences will lead to her becoming a star. She wants to be a star. A real star. Like the Horse’s Head Nebula. Even that is a breakthrough; that she doesn’t feel the need to look up the real name. The real name to impress you. She knows what she means. Like she knows how it links to the beautiful animals, the broad wide calm creatures crossing the desert, the way she remembers it, to the gathering that the Skeksis are trying to control in Legend. A great family film they always watch at Xmas, that Tom and their daughter distil into one action or phrase they share and trust and build a relationship around. Tom Cruise in a stream with a unicorn. The image is gorgeous. The wicked Skeksis. 

She is talking about the human ​version of Skeksis yesterday in Nybakat with the mother and her two daughters​. ​When she walks away, she thinks they are probably twins. 24-year-olds. They both say 24. They are not disillusioned enough yet to be a performance. They wait as she waits for their mum to make the assassination of Trump’s character. She finds no defining moment: ‘That’s why we have to be the light.’ Our protagonist doesn’t open the sentence up for her. She could change the atmosphere with it if she wants but that will be fake too. 

Only travelling across the globe for 30 hours will bring all the parts of her together like the big sandy coloured creatures travelling to their Stonehenge that the Skeksis are trying to control. The same old same old story. A silly story of feeding the bad wolf. The travelling sand-coloured creatures are moving slowly, patiently, cos they are feeding the good wolf. The Skeksis look rough, thin, pointy, dark, ugly, cos they are feeding the bad wolf. In Nybakat they fed the bad wolf when the mother and her twin daughters came to sit next to her. Girls who had never lived outside the WWW, the internet, the influence of one mind on another mind. But neither has she. 

There are many minds, many parts of her travelling to Australia​: Malaga to Doha to Melbourne to Brisbane to Amaroo. The accretion is over. All the moving parts in her are moving. Swirling. Like a galaxy. A galaxy of dust that is about to implode. She can feel it in the darkness of her bedroom with its blackout shutters keeping the mosquitos at bay. She has been interpreting it as a fear of death. The twinges. The little pains. The need for the Hawaiian prayers: ‘Please forgive me; I’m sorry; thank you; I love you — I can’t live much longer like this.’

But she is gonna die. As a cloud of dust, she is gonna die, she is gonna ignite into the star. She must travel the globe. Not as the stereotype of goodness in the pale creatures. But as the dynamic, charismatic person she is. Who opens her cupboards to organic food and supplements to ward off death — her Parfait jars of tea and beans and lentils. 

There has been a practical sense of learning along this path. Her fear of writing, money and death ends this month. She is prepared. Her long gathering of skills. Accretion. Including Amanda Frances Money Queen. Abundance, including The Secret. The Artist​'s Way. The art in prestigious London art galleries. Including the postcards she buys to never let her forget that day. Her own installations. Her teaching. The psychotherapy. Leaving English shores with the lines in the sand she cannot cross. Including sorrow. Including… Including everything she has been but would not be now if she had never been it and experienced it​. 

​She is on her way to her pot of gold. Her treasure. She knows where it is located. Between practicality and spirituality. Prem Rawat hates spirituality. She is longing now to hear his words. To sit in the little stone amphitheatre. Their mini-Stonehenge. 5000 seats only. Premies only. Identified by her smart card that dates when she got Knowledge, ​1981, her 4 techniques of meditations. So, they can enjoy walking towards each other showered with Prem Rawat’s words. To have your own space even in a crowd. To be with her own people. A pilgrimage like the Hubble telescope into the universe of the real her about to burst in the darkness. 

And when she leaves, she will be a star. Bright. Functioning. Cohesive. She remembers the 25,000 leaving peacefully in India like a pin drop like the calm sandy creatures, 1994, when her journey to stardom begins. 

See you next week — from Australia. x