There were others with me as I began my wunderkabinett, all devoted one way or the other to this most glorious task.

They were the sisters and brothers who had also dedicated themselves to the service of life and humanity. It was said in one translation of the Diamond Sutra that at the end of the last 500 year period would come people who had developed great merit over innumerable lifetimes, and that at the end of this period they would immediately recognize this teaching and become Buddhas all.

The brothers and sisters in this were like that – but each being so very unique we had not ever met in person, only telepathically in the liminal plane, at the crossroad. When I first went there it was empty, and I didn’t stay long. Perhaps it was because I was too early, having arrived before the others got there. That’s one thought. The other was that I wasn’t yet ready – and it was more accurate.The plain was empty to me because I was to return to earth, find and furnish my wunderkabinett before I could return to meet the others.

Since time doesn’t exist, they are always there and I am always with them. But for my process I must acknowledge that there is still much to be done if I am ever to join those illuminated souls.

I returned with a new opening, another frequency, a tone that could draw from all things and beings a glimmer of light, the light of truth.

That night I had a vision in my dream: we travel the long plain to arrive at a makeshift caravanserai. Here we tie our animals, circle by the fire, have food and drink, tell tales that have been told in caravans past down through the ages. The leader of the caravan sits with us around the fire, settles himself to sleep as we all do, sharing melodies from his homeland that soothe and fascinate us with their paradoxically simple complexity. Like charmed snakes our bodies sway from side to side in the night, faces glowing like the embers before them, sparks flying to the night sky like stars.

The longer we are staying in the caravanserai the more we are yearning to continue the journey. The caravanserai is makeshift so we will never get too comfortable here. Each time we head out, however, there is one who will stay behind. He remains to greet the next group of guests, to tend the oasis, to bring in the sweet mint tea, and to stock our supplies for travel. He does this to relieve the one before him, so the former host of the caravanserai may also join the caravan. It is a noble duty. It may have been years since the last host was able to ride along in the sacred line, and there are saddle sores and raw aches and pains, inside and out, to contend with. The exposure is matched by excitement, and so he will be more accustomed to travel than to homemaking.

He has heard that there are some very experienced caravans that wander these desert plains. These are groups where each one of the travellers has been host more than once, some even 1001 times! They travel throughout the universe, through the stars. They think they are on desert plains, for that is what their senses tell them. But we know they are travelling through the night stars, and each star is another caravanserai. Layered through time, they are living examples of love, harmony and beauty, each with a leader of the caravan who turns to look back, ensuring the line is all in order, sending beams of love and light all the way to the last traveller.

Thinking of this, the former host catches up with the traveller before him, and like the others fixes his eyes upon the star that is their next destination.

No one knows why the caravans are travelling far, but their tones are sometimes beams from space as we sleep. They moderate the influences of the stars on earth, they carry gifts of gold and spices from one place to another for trade. Sometimes gifts and cargo can slip off during a desert storm and the goods shower down to the nearest planet with sometimes is earth.

That was how I received the com-sphere. I keep it in my cabinet.