The whole airport thing is becoming more and more of a drama, it now feels fitting that we have to go to a Terminal to be stripped of human rights and treated like dumb sheep or potential criminals under the guise of keeping us safe from terrorism.

I’m not even going to go into the whole ‘strip to the bare essentials put everything in a plastic tray and make sure you aren’t carrying nail scissors or matchesr’ thing. I’m going to focus instead on the cloudscape, it’s spectacular, I love the confirmation that if you get up high enough you’ll hit clear sky no matter what the weather is on the ground.

check out the rainbow aura around the plane's reflection.

From up here the only divisions in the land are the ones created by Mother Nature, there is no telling where one property or state or county ends and another begins, the idea of land ownership seems preposterous up here. Think about it really, how could we ever be more than caretakers of the planet? What else is there to do except preserve it for future generations?

I can’t believe I’m going to be in New Zealand some time tomorrow. It’s been at least half a dozen years since I set foot in the Land of the Long White Cloud, and then only briefly. Thank you Melissa and Lynda for making it possible for me to come home at this time. I am grateful for this chance to help my Mother transition. No-one could be better qualified, I have absolutely no fear of death, I’ve walked with Him too many times. My goal is to help her find the peace and dignity that such a transition deserves.

My dear friend and crystal master Adrienne brought me two spectacular transition crystals to use with my Mum; a magnificent Isis crystal and a Seleinite wand almost as long as my arm, that when used correctly enables the person to release physical and emotional attachments that make the death transition more difficult. I threw an invisibility cloak over it as I was going through security, suddenly realising I had a sharp, lethal looking, two and a half foot long crystal sitting in full view in my carry on briefcase. I love having these skills.

What would you do? I’m sitting by the window, the middle seat is empty and the isle seat is occupied by a very serious Japanese businessman who is sound asleep. I need to empty my bladder. With just a bit of luck I might be able to climb over him without waking him up but it will involve straddling him on the way across. If he does wake up halfway through the climb it could be a bit startling for him. The people in the seats behind me are highly amused at my predicament, egged on by them I decide to go for it.

Next time I’ll wake the person.

Looking for a tree to ground with before I left LA, this was the only specimen at the airport, speaks volumes doesn't it?

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, we have just crossed the international date line and have five hours to go before we land in Auckland airport. I am again under the Southern Cross, fascinating how that comforts me. I wonder if I’ll get my sense of direction back.

I love Quantas, flying American Airlines it feels like everything is begrudged from basic courtesy to the nasty boxed snacks you have to pay for. On this flight – mind you it is a long one – the first thing they do is hand you a nice little bag with a sleep mask, a toothbrush and a pair of socks. The food is good, the drinks are free, then you get another bag filled with snacks and treats and a bottle of water before you settle down to choose a movie.

I met a crystal baby on the flight, she drew me like a magnet and went straight into my arms much to her parents astonishment, she doesn’t go to anyone other than them usually. What enchanting beings these children are, this one had come in with kidney problems resulting in all manner of nasty infections, she effortlessly communicated her need and got a complete healing, and the parents each got a reading and the information they had been waiting for. They live in Texas and come to Austin often, the Mother wants to do my healing workshop when we get back.

The children that are coming in now are our greatest hope, amazingly aware. The Indigos blazed the trail and continue to do so despite being drugged with Ritlin and labelled and crushed into molds and models that don’t work any more. They won’t give up, and they pave the way for the next evolution of humanity; the Crystal Children. These kids are much easier to raise than Indigos are extremely clairvoyant and use telepathy as their primary communication, especially before they get boxed into verbally dominant establishments.

This little girl was five months old and absolutely clear in her mind-to-mind communications, effortlessly bypassing the unreliable more traditional methods. “Hi! You’re so pretty, you make me smile, come and help me, something’s not right here… and here… That tingles, look at the pretty colors, I like those, bring your hand closer I want to see if I can taste them...” It's a beautiful thing to clear a baby.

I am in Auckland airport waiting for my connecting flight to Wellington.

It is 6.30am on 9/11 and it is COLD outside.
Bless you Adrienne for the loan of your sweater and jacket. And blessings galore on the people who taught me how to shorten my time line so that it felt like a much more acceptable traveling time. I’ve now been in, and in between, airports for nearly twenty four hours and it only feels like three or four hours to both my mind and my body.

It’s strange to be surrounded by people who talk like me, but it’s more than the accent that’s different. I stood in line for half an hour waiting to go through customs, talking to all the travelers, trying to figure out what the difference is between Kiwis and Americans, it’s significant and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I look at the Americans in the other line, then back at the Kiwis and Aussies, they somehow look and feel as well as sound different.

All the kiwis I spoke to were shocked at the state of the U.S. and all for different reasons. Fascinating to get this perspective, it’s totally different of course, from the way Mexicans view the U.S. and it’s people.

Everyone liked Americans as individuals, it'd be hard not to, they are so kind and friendly and go out of their way to be helpful, and they love our accent and country! It made my countrymen sad to see the conditions they have to live under and how fearful they are.

They were all horrified at the quality of the food, and dumbfounded at the amount consumed in a single meal. Lack of good food was one of the hardest things for me to get used to as well.
When Harmony and I first arrived in the States we thought we’d starve to death, there was nothing with any nutritional value or even taste or smell, even the ‘organic’ food is all but worthless because of the poor quality of the soil. Maybe that’s why they eat so much, they are subconsciously trying to give their bodies nutrition that just isn’t available. I think it’s more likely a comfort thing though.
I can’t wait to eat here, Puerto Vallarta was terrific but New Zealand’s fruit and veg and lollies and meat and dairy products can’t be beat. We have the advantage of isolation and a fiercely protected environment.

Monday September 12th: I went to bed at 6.30 last night and slept 12 hours straight. The first thing I saw this morning was my breath! “It’s not cold” Faye chirruped “there isn’t even a frost just a heavy dew.”
I am wearing long underwear under sweat pants under parachute pants with a vest and a sweatshirt, a jersey and a hooded woolly jacket, a coat, socks and sheepskin slippers AND I’m wrapped in a doona!

I am sitting under a punga tree listening to the mournfrul hooting of a Morepork, gazing transfixed at a totally different sky to the one I’ve been looking at for the last 5 years. I am under my beloved Southern Cross once again. She soars like a gigantic diamond kite across the Milky Way, Her pointer stars are dazzling.
The air, the atmosphere, sparkles with clarity and purity, I am again in the Garden of Eden, my awe is constant, I had forgotten.

It is as if God created New Zealand first and went overboard filling it with the most diverse and spectacular scenery He could imagine, then stepped back and went “Wo! Better spread them out a bit more next time”
It’s beautiful to fly over, I took photos but I couldn’t capture it, I wonder if it is even possible for the magic New Zealand exudes to be captured on film. Lord of the Rings didn’t even come close.

This is Mt Egmont encircled by virgin forest.

My country is so tiny that it takes less than an hour to fly from the top to the bottom of the North Island, but if you wanted to see all the miracles that stretch of planet offers it would take you months.. I spent the flight with my face pressed to the glass trying to take in everything through my tears. I cried all the way from Auckland to Wellington. I am home.

For the last few years my spirit has felt homeless, not knowing where my home is in the world, not feeling like it was anywhere. But over Aotearoa (the Maori name for NZ) I suddenly knew. Home is New Zealand. I am home. I will travel to many wonderful places, and make myself a place wherever I go, but my roots are here in these beautiful islands in the South Pacific. This is my country, these are my people, I may not ever live here again but none the less this is my home.

My senses are completely overwhelmed every time I step outside. The air is so clean and pure in texture that despite the cold I spent portions of the ride from the airport with my head out the window like a dog experiencing the wonderfulness of it on my face. Everything is so CLEAN.

We left the airport and drove around the bays that line the Wellington Harbour, one of the prettiest harbours in the world. Like Puerto Vallarta we have lush green hills rolling all the way down to the Pacific Ocean. Wellington is the capital city, our Parliament Building is called the Beehive because of its shape

Approaching the city from Oriental Bay

Mum and her sister Faye live in adjoining houses in Upper Hutt which is the suburb just beyond Lower Hutt where I grew up and where Mum is in the Hospice now.

The drive from Wellington to the Hutt Valley has clear blue ocean on the right. Again as in PV, the hills extend like arms embracing the Pacific, cradling the harbour and the charming city decorating it. To the left of the motorway the hills are thick with lush green foliage that constantly, cheerfully, perfectly absorb the fumes from the cars whilst radiating healing, cleansing, purifying energy into the surrounding areas.

We enter the Hutt Valley about 20 minutes after leaving Wellington. The vast vegetation continues its alchemy opposite the Hutt River that winds through the Rimutaka and Akatarua Hills. The river is lined with trees of such an unlikely lime green that you will think the photo altered, the river is rich with round river stones that hold ancient river magic in the gentle grey curves of their form.

I’d forgotten how special this country is.
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My eyes ache trying to absorb the vividness of the colors, more greens that you could imagine exist, and it’s SPRING!! My favorite season, there is no more marvelous time to come to New Zealand than Spring. You can taste it in the air, you can smell it, Spring has a very distinctive smell, it instantly enlivens one, puts lightness in the step and excitement in the soul. Life is beginning again, a cycle is ending, step up, step out, clean house, go for a walk and breathe that air!

New Zealand really shows off in Spring. Mother Nature shrugs off Winter as if it were a heavy grey coat She grew tired of, and stands shyly revealed in a gown so fresh and new and radiant, you can only stand and gasp in delighted awe at the transformation.
It’s Spring!

The trees are festooned with all manner of blooms: I love the pink and white cherry blossoms lining the streets, but it’s the NZ natives that enchant me. From the great Kowhai trees that drip big yellow flowers all over the ground, to the big red Rhododendrons shouting their praises to the season. The birds are thrilled with all the native growth and the air is filled with birdsong.

This flower is a Kakabeak. This is a typical road leading out of our valley, the yellow is Gorse

Everywhere we drive the streets and motorways and railroad tracks bulge with native trees and big fat shrubs and bushes, all pumping pure oxygen into the air. Median strips are alive with spring flowers, roundabouts have golden centers – big circles directing the traffic and slowing it in residential areas – are filled with bright yellow and orange daffodils.
Waxen magnolia blooms send out waves of perfume to underscore the Jasmine and the Fresias, these powerful scents undulate in layers, a heady triple scent seduction.

The hills are strewn with baby lambs and wobbly legged colts and calves. Four million people and sixty million sheep live in New Zealand.

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Wednesday: I went to two forests yesterday, each as different from the other as night from day.

The first was lush and green and excited to see us ‘Come IN, well come, we invite you!” Huge trees lounging with their arms around each other, family trees, young new happy trees, respectful around the elder trees, reach up on tippy toes and touch the sky trees all communing in a very welcoming mossy green place.

The Guardians were very open and made us feel right at home. We romped happily through under the native palms..

The second forest stopped me in my tracks, instantly wary and respectful, awe bordering on intimidation. OK I lie, it was completely intimidating. This was not a forest to be casual in, this was not a forest to enter without the full permission of the Guardians. The trees were unlike anything I had ever seen before; Macracapas Lynda calls them.

This is a Warrior Grove, a Stand and Deliver /don’t even think about being here after dark / we move the second you aren’t looking / twisted Middle Earth Entlike humor Grove.
This is not a forest that will be imposed upon by man or anything else, it rests between dimensions somehow, formidable more than forbidding but definitely not a place to take lightly.

The trees have an entirely different energy.

It defies description, I gnash with frustration, Lynda laughs at me “If you told them they still wouldn’t know” she says “It’s to be experienced”
She’s right, it’s as annoying as hell but she’s right. The magic of New Zealand can’t be caught on camera or film or in words, it has to be experienced.

Lynda and I are currently at the bach at Otaki – a bach is a place you have at the seaside, in this case it’s a very spacious three bedroom home a stones throw from the beach. Upstairs Management arranged for someone to leave a window open over here so that Lynda and I could drive over the hill (which would be considered a mountain in most other parts of the world) to spend some quality time together in this exquisite space.

As an added bonus Alex lives on this side of the hill, she has been reading my updates forever (Hi Alex!) and is a holistic health practitioner who gave me a Bowen session and a homeopathic remedy for the allergies I’m suffering here – no its not mold this time, it's pollen.

We three had a lovely lamb chop dinner and a really nice night. I fell asleep early, Alex went home and Lynda and I got up at dawn to climb a sand dune and watch the sunrise over the hills.
Take a moment to imagine me slogging up a sand hill in oversized sheepskin slippers, three pairs of pants, assorted jerseys and jumpers and a politically incorrect but very warm and extremely heavy fur coat.

I’d forgotten about sand dunes, how hard they are to climb and what fun they are to roll down!
There are signs up to be careful not to tread on or hurt the spinnifex grasses that speckle the dunes and help hold them together. We reach the top having had more exercise than my body deems fair and reasonable first thing in the morning, and it is worth every sliding step.

Lynda at Otaki

The Pacific Ocean breaks in an orderly fashion with three perfectly spaced small whitecaps that ripple into very fine grey sand. Beyond the break it is millpond flat all the way to the horizon.
Kapati Island sits in state, wreathed in soft white mist a few miles off shore, the South Island is clearly visible as a darkly defined smudge beyond it.

To the right another magic forest reaches up into the lightening sky “It’s further away than it looks” Lynda says “And if it doesn’t want you to go there it will get further away the closer you get. Its very bizarre.” I believe her, after the Warrior Grove there is no doubt in my mind that it could do this.

Behind us typical New Zealand houses nestle in pasture land, a little river wends its way through the paddocks toward the Tararua Ranges, the great rolling hills that envelop this part of the island.

Spring flowers speckle the dunes, purple and yellow and red and white. How are they growing in sand?

The dawn chorus is glorious, Black Birds and Fantails, Tuis and Sparrows, Wax eyes and Yellow Hammers all delightedly greeting the new day. “Here comes the sun HOORAY great flying conditions today!”

I take it all in gratefully, amazed that I was so reluctant to return.

So is there anything bad about being in New Zealand? Yes! Icy toilet seats! Especially first thing in the morning.

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