I sat in my usual seat by the window in the Blue Dragon. My energy was very high and I was closely scrutinising the activities and happenings in the restaurant, as if it were a temple or magic circle. Every sound, movement, word and action felt somehow as if it held profound meaning and had an integral part to play in the whole. I experienced each tiny interaction as causing irrevocable change both in the Blue Dragon, and in all that was becoming in the Universe.

I could see how energy danced around the room, touching groups and individuals as it swept by, injecting life-force and healing into their lives. An inspiration here, new friendships formed there, deep relaxation here, catharsis there. I watched in fascination as Spirit swirled around, close, and then moved off again.

I played with this energy, and didn't know if everything that was happening in the room caused intensely magical feelings inside of me, or if my deeply magical feelings caused the kaleidoscopic of energy in the room. It didn't actually matter, I felt like a cosmic starchild, playing wide-eyed with the building blocks of creation.

One corner of the room kept pulling my attention. It was very dark and opaque and I saw a small figure materialise from the gloom from time to time. Whoever was hiding there had separated themselves from the playful and integrated lifestreams sparkling in the restaurant, and I zeroed in. I saw a small girl, maybe twelve years old, alone and enveloped by a dark cloud that was draining her energy. She seemed lost and distracted by worries which made her look ugly and unlovable.

I was unable to dismiss or ignore her. Fascinated, I found myself doing something that was so completely out of character that I could only watch on in astonishment. I found myself walking across the room, standing at her table and asking her if I could sit down. She nodded absentmindedly and I sat opposite her. Her appearance was unusual: red hair, green eyes, freckles, and an age that could have been anywhere between fourteen and forty. She looked decidedly troubled and had dark bags under her eyes. I brought out my crystal and started to play with it. Eventually I gave it to her, and she held it automatically.

"OK. What is the matter? If you want to talk about it, just go ahead." I said.

She started to speak, at first hesitantly, then in a gush. A crisis in her life was making her question everything. She could only see things in a negative and pessimistic way, and didn't know what to do. I listened to her, keeping my silence except to nudge her into movement when her flow dried up, and tried to assist her to work things through for herself. I was on form. I made her laugh about herself and humanity's state in general. When she finally let go of her pain she became transformed, laughing, and a beautiful girl-woman shone through. Her green eyes flashed with a mischievous sparkle and while I was fascinated before, now I was hooked. That evening we talked and enjoyed each other for hours until we were thrown out of the Blue Dragon by a tired and irritable proprietor way past closing time. We simply couldn't say goodbye. Still we continued sparking off one another, walking around the silent streets of Manali and revelling in our new friendship.

Her name was Kim, she was Dutch, and fate had afforded her the freedom to travel as she wished without dependency on family, money or time. She seemed to me to be a mixture of impish magical child and old wise woman with nothing in between. I found out later that at the age of sixteen she had had an operation to make her sterile, which I guessed had stunted the mature woman-mother archetype in her.

She was an electric, highly energetic being, and perhaps the most spontaneous person I had ever met. She breathed freedom of thought, word and action and brought intense magic into my life whenever we were together. With her natural energy, her colourful clothes, a black floppy hat and stuffed green frog on her shoulder, I humbly affirm that she completely outmatched my eccentricity, even when I was well on form!

She was excited when I showed her some of the crystals I had found, and the story behind their discovery. She listened spellbound at the tales I wove around walking to Tibet, and being guided to the mountains of the Parvarti valley. I invited her to do another crystal journey with me into the mountains near Shat to find larger crystals, and to discover what I needed to do with the ones I had already found.

Two days later we were in the chai shop at Shat, dusty and shaken, yet full of excitement and enthusiasm. After a happy reunion with the villagers and the usual conflicting instructions about directions, we set off. This time we entered a valley perpendicular to the Parvarti and climbed along a well-used rocky pathway through trees and jungle, following a large stream which flowed off the main mountain massif.

Kim was a good walker and we made fast progress. The scenery was beautiful, and the monsoon rains kept their distance. As it grew dark we found a sheltered spot between two trees a hundred yards off the track, and we hung a sheet between then to keep the moisture off. After a simple supper we snuggled into our sleeping bags and were enjoying the stars when an eerie alien noise started up to our left, back towards Shat. It was a high-pitched walling sound like a soul in torment, and had a quality about it that was very frightening.

I had heard stories about some of the people in the mountains around Manikharan. They lived in pockets and isolated communities which were like anachronisms in modern day India. They held onto their old beliefs and customs with a fanaticism that allowed no change or transgressions, and there were instances when travellers, ignorant of their ways, fell foul of their ancient laws. In extreme cases people were stoned to death for crimes such as eating eggs or meat in public, or being too intimate with their partners (like holding hands). This knowledge, added to the primal magical atmosphere swirling around these mountains, set the scene in my mind's eye for quite a horror story. Kim was likewise affected.

The howls and screaming came closer, accompanied by an orange glow that flickered along the path we had earlier travelled. It was still quite a way away yet we could feel a wild and manic energy building up towards some predestined climax. I knew that some fanatic spirit had possessed a person or persons and was searching for us. We both felt very frightened and cowered like hunted animals.

By now the manic screams and growling were close and we could see the glare of a flaming torch approaching along the path. The light flickered and darted from side to side as if it were searching violently for us... With our hearts in our mouths we watched as a woman wearing traditional mountain clothing clambered over the wall flanking the path and dropped into the field we were in.

She was now only fifty yards away from where Kim and I were lying. The combination of her psychotic appearance and her inhuman shrieks were turning my nerves to jelly. With a stroke of inspiration, I whispered to Kim that whatever happened, we were not to move. I felt very strongly that as long as we stayed still we would be invisible. Kim rolled onto her stomach and hid. I knew at a very deep level that what I had communicated was magically true, yet my battered human senses were terrified.

The woman seemed possessed by a violent and demonic spirit. Her face was contorted, her chin dribbled saliva and her eyes darted malevolently from side to side, searching. Her body jerked all over the place, pulled by invisible strings, and the sounds she produced seemed far too powerful for her small female frame.

Howling, spitting and lunging, she passed about fifteen yards away, crossing the field diagonally in front of us. I stroked Kim and whispered encouragement to her, feelings I didn't totally feel myself.

The woman came to a halt at the edge of the field a hundred yards away, where the ground fell away into a small ravine through which the stream noisily plunged. She stood there and raved, her torch jerking and flickering, dancing shadows bringing the mountainsides into demonic life under the peaceful stars.

A new element now entered the scene. I became aware of a group of people coming up the path towards us, carrying flares and talking urgently among themselves. I had the reassuring thought that we were either saved or well and truly doomed, depending on the intent of the crowd. The woman, her madness still very evident, then returned the way she had come, passing very close to us and climbed back over the wall. The tones of the voices on the path reflected relief and reassurance. Slowly both noise and light faded until we were once again alone and in peace.

I felt it was all over and safe to stay where we were, working on the principle that lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place. Kim wanted to move on and get away from our camping place with its associated memories. It was important to her, so, in silence and without using any source of illumination, we packed. We crossed over the wall, walked another mile or so up the path, and hid deep amongst large boulders concealed by thick foliage. Swallowed by the jungle and safe at last, we collapsed into a well-needed sleep.

The next morning we started to climb in earnest. The mountains were jungle-clad and as we followed the path we occasionally had to push away branches and huge leaves which blocked our way. Water dripped over mossy boulders into pools, resonating like chimes in a deep and cathedral-like complex of caves. The shadows were filled with tiny eyes which followed our every movement. In one shady glade, I stopped in mid-stride and peered at a large boulder on my right. There, in a small niche above my head was a beautiful, perfect little crystal, shining with an inner light like a fairy beacon. We were on the right trail!

We started to climb. By mid-afternoon the clouds floated soundlessly in, enfolding us in a damp misty blanket. Moisture dripped off leaves and rocks, diamonds hung precariously in spider webs and a muffled silence surrounded us like a padded cell. We had needed all our concentration earlier while climbing up the steep path. Now, wet, it was partly covered with a glistening layer of slippery clay and was perilous. Exhausted, we finally stopped for the day. We made a fire and cooked a welcome meal. After supper, Kim threw the rubbish, which included some plastic and a tin can, into the undergrowth and I got upset at her for dishonouring Parvarti and the spirit of the land. We had a very loud argument that upset both of us; I walked into the undergrowth feeling very alone and misunderstood, picked it all up and buried it.

We slept that night in a small cave and moved off the next morning, damp and stiff. Our spirits were being tested and only the thought of finding treasure, or receiving instructions about the crystals I had already found, kept us going.

On the fourth day we finally broke through the clouds and found ourselves on an undulating grassy plateau on top of the mountain range. The clouds lay below, filling the valleys and making the mountaintops look like enchanted castles perched on islands in a gently rolling sea. The sun shone brightly in the pure atmosphere, and herds of healthy Himalayan cattle grazed on the rich fodder as far as the eyes could see. There was not enough food for these beasts in the narrow valleys. During the summer they were led to the plateau above the clouds to feed, and brought down only when the winter snows arrived. Large, hairy and beautiful, they sported huge horns which took a bit of getting used to!

In relief we took off our heavy gear and rested. With no desire to move further that day, we sunbathed on the bank of a small tinkling stream and relaxed. I felt the knots and tension unravel in my muscles and it felt great. Towards sunset I made a fire and boiled water for tea, and as we sipped the steaming, cheering elixir of life my thoughts moved to our journey. I felt a little lost; maybe it was a sense of pointlessness. In carrying on in our present direction. I had a sneaking suspicion that we had already found what was necessary, and 'big crystals' were possibly only a glamorous diversion. We talked about it and decided to meditate both on our progress so far, and what to do next. We made ourselves comfortable, and went deep into the Silence.

I sat with my eyes dosed for a while and received nothing. Finally I opened them and gazed lazily at the scenery around me. The sun had turned the clouds below us into a sea of red and gold which billowed and roared like soft slow-motion psychedelic breakers at our feet. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and all at once I knew for certain that our search for large crystals was pointless. I had already in my possession the crystals that needed to be found. An amicable cow moved close, crunching the grass noisily in its mouth. All at once I noticed the new crescent moon embraced within its horns.

A tingle shot through my body and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Dead ahead in the northeast a cloudbank rolled away revealing the snowy rainbow towers and turrets of the big mountains ringing Lahaul and Spiti. In a flash all was clear. Forget about 'big crystals'. Go to the Lake of the Moon in the high mountains and wait for guidance. I shared my vision with Kim and she nodded. The tension we had both been feeling relaxed, and we made ready for the return trip on the morrow.

What had taken us four days to climb took one to descend. In a strong steady flow we caught the bus from Shat, happy and excited to have discovered and joined the next stage of the adventure. We decided not to travel hell-for-leather back to Manali. That afternoon we checked in at a forestry cottage among trees and fields dose to Buntah, the town at the confluence of the Parvarti and Kulu rivers. There we spent a delightful time, flushed with success after receiving our vision, and we relaxed fully. There amongst the sighing of the breezes through the trees, and the crashing together of two powerful river goddesses, we walked the rich countryside in the bright sunshine. As we made our way down a track, my eye was caught by a tiny movement in the grass. I stopped and peered closer, and suddenly realised I was being given a very special omen. Pushing its ball of dung before it over the ground was a large peacock blue-green scarab beetle.

I acknowledged the presence of Kephera, the Egyptian sun-god whose realm is the darkest time of the night, just before dawn. He pushes the sun, his ball of dung into which he will lay his eggs, through the underworld, giving light and hope to all those trapped in the darkness. Through all sorts of dangers and trials he guides his charge until it bursts above the horizon into the start of a new day. I had already had personal experience with Kephera in my journey of individuation, and he had become a sort of guiding spirit for me through the darkest times of my life.

When he first appeared six years before in the desert sands of the Sinai, I thought I was going mad:

To the gentle nature sounds of the Sinai, the blazing power of the moon, and the strangeness of a new Self with a beetle active on my brow, I fall asleep.

I needed to understand what was happening to me. After my experiences in the Sinai (which was then part of Israel) I travelled to Egypt, and studied in some depth their ancient religion. There I found through research and contemplation the answer to my problem. I realised that the beetle god called Kephera had for some reason singled me out for attention, for the beetle continued to appear. Soon after this the beetle started to come to me in its physical aspect, and I found myself in a terrifying, yet potentially transformational process.

I also found out that Carl Jung, the famous psychologist and mystic, recognised the scarab as a powerful symbol of transformation, healing and wholeness. Somewhere I was reassured, despite the extreme symptoms of my psychological illness.

From that time on, the beetle, or Kephera, would become either psychically activated on my brow chakra, or it would physically appear and land on me, usually on my head. At these times I would experience great fear, and simultaneously great energy would fill my system. I would then be capable of exceptional feats of will and clarity.

Finally:

I see a tall figure of a man wearing an ancient kilted costume reaching to mid-thigh, in ancient Egyptian style. What is bizarre and potentially terrifying is that, in the space where my head should be is a huge black beetle. I have truly become Kephera.

The morning after, we arrived back in Manali.

Full of excitement, we made ready for our expedition into the big mountains. We needed a month's supply of food, warm clothing, and had to prepare ourselves mentally. I could sense a dangerous ambivalence in Kim, and although she consciously wanted to go, her resistance became evident as we proceeded with our plans. Little things would go wrong. Time and time again we would be delayed, or lose things as they were needed, and a heaviness hounded our footsteps.

I didn't know what to do in order to keep our momentum going. I could feel myself expending twice the energy I would normally have needed if I were simply by myself. While shopping together for supplies in the back streets of Manali, a wasp stung me. Indian poisonous animals, plants and insects seem to have far more intense consequences than the English equivalents, although their effects pass quicker.

That bloody wasp sting was agony, and seemed to be expressing what I was really feeling deep inside. In a perverse way, it seemed karmically appropriate and even had the effect of calming me down. Fortunately, the debilitating pain passed in about quarter of an hour, and I was free to continue our preparations.

Finally the day of departure arrived. Before dawn we were waiting at the bus station, and when our bus arrived, we were disappointed to see it was completely full. We waited for the next one. Again it was full and we were unable to embark. Finally at noon, we were able to board a half-full bus and we were off!

After another typically exhausting but exhilarating mountain journey we climbed stiffly out of the bus at Batal. The sun had already sunk behind the westem mountains and the evening air was very chilly. We entered the Tibetan roadside cafe and drank tea, and were pleased to find out we could stay there overnight. After a simple but satisfying supper, we slept well.

The next morning we had a shock. Leaving the cafe at dawn to wash in the river we emerged into a white wonderland. It was gloomy, very cold, and snow fell all around us in big lazy flakes. The ground was covered in a crunchy pristine blanket and it looked as if there was lots more to come.

Over breakfast we sat in silence, alone with our thoughts and feelings. I remembered all of those people who, on hearing about our intended journey, looked shocked and came out with the usual horror stories about people trapped in the snow and freezing to death in the high mountains. They told us we were crazy to visit Lahaul so late in the year. I recognised this negativity as the usual resistance and testing that occurs when one is preparing to make a journey into the Unknown. I had made my own enquiries with the mountain people and trekking organisations and reckoned on being okay for at least a month. I had sat long and hard with my feelings about this adventure and had made my decision. I had ruthlessly dismissed all doubts and fears, and placed my trust in the guidance that spirit had given.

After breakfast we stood in the snow and Kim said categorically that she wasn't starting out in these weather conditions, She was absolutely right in a rational sense, but this was no rational situation. We had spoken in depth about spirit journeys where trust was paramount and irrationality the order of the day, I felt totally clear about what I had to do and felt my connection with the spirit power bubbling deep within.

Yet I didn't know how to manage the impasse with Kim. We wandered down the trackway to the bridge and I tried to reason with her. My guts demanded that we start our journey immediately, trusting in spirit, or the energy gathered so far would drain away and we would lose our chance! The gateway I had worked so long to open would then close for ever, and I knew that I would never forgive myself. She was likewise adamant and stubbornly said we should wait. I tried to explain again the qualities of magical journeys, but to no avail.

I am by nature a gentle man and avoid arguments or unpleasantness like the plague. Raised voices hurt me and I try to be polite and respectful to other beings. On that bridge that morning an unaccustomed quality entered my life, fuelled by the wildness of spirit I was feeling deep within. I was calm, observant and aware of being quite centred. Making a definite decision about the situation, I blew up.

I let my anger rip through the space between us and vented my frustrations at the inertia that was threatening to kill our shared endeavours. I accused her of being an agent of the insidious forces arrayed to destroy humanity's striving to better itself, and of sabotaging our efforts to face the Unknown. Although I loved and honoured my new companion I would not be swayed from my purpose and allow my spirit to be killed.

I told Kim that I was going to start my journey to Chandratal as soon as I was packed and if she felt to accompany me, to come. If not she could stay and would have to travel back to Manali alone. I wished her well and strode back to the wayside cafe. My conscience and guilt tried to force a wedge into my being, yet the stronger, centred part of me felt triumph and a deep sense of satisfaction at somehow acting correctly. I hoped very much that Kim would come but was resigned to the fact that she probably wouldn't.

As I packed my rucksack, I felt her come near. Trembling with emotion, she said, "I'm coming" in a small voice, and I could see she had been crying. Feeling a bit of a bastard I reached for her and we hugged. Something righted itself between us and soon we were on our way.

Within an hour it had stopped snowing, the clouds had dissolved and the sun was shining at full strength. It was wonderful to walk through the smooth pure whiteness, although it was very tiring for the eyes. In another thirty minutes the mountainscape had transformed itself and it was as if its winter coat had never been. We walked in silence, as if to honour the extreme beauty and fragility of the high mountain spaces, or 'Abodes of the Gods', and we soaked in the subtle impressions that enveloped us. We walked half the way to Chandratal that day and spent the night in a stone shepherd's shelter which now lay deserted in the green meadows. We rested by the spring, loving its gushing crystal waters and took in the magnificent scenery. The feel of the weather was very different to my earlier journey, for summer seemed nearly complete and the snows were on their way. I was slightly worried by the fact that the shelter was deserted and its occupants had already sought lower altitudes, yet I trusted in our instructions from Spirit. What else was there to do?

We spent a gentle right in that beautiful, safe space, and I started to regain my former high altitude energy. My faculties seemed to stretch into expanded dimensions, and it felt as if everything were starting to become possible again. I fell asleep to the stars shining down on us through the smoke hole in the stone roof.

By noon the next day we had passed the strange rounded hills and had our first sight of the lake. We dropped our rucksacks in my former little friendly shelter and ran to the water's edge. Shedding clothes, we dived in and, avoiding the inevitable urge to panic at the searing cold and scramble straight out again, we washed away our toil and trouble in its crystal purity.

What water! I thought that if one couldn't see the reflections off its surface, there would be no way to tell if there was any water there at all. Such clarity! Apart from the occasional flash of silver fish or the gentle waving of underwater grass, it had the quality of total stillness. Timelessness.

I felt that the lake had been reflecting for ever. Off its surface the creation of the world had unfolded, the rise and fall and rising again of mountains, and the creation of numberless stars. It seemed as if it would always be there, mirroring and recording the history of the world until the last star was extinguished.

And there we were, two clumsy and bumbling humans, perpetrating the ultimate heresy of disturbing the mirror! Laughing and splashing, creating ripples rushing to the water's edge and bouncing back, causing havoc in the universe! Still, it was all in innocent fun and celebration. I found it easy to forgive myself.

That evening, lying safe and warm under the stars, we knew we were at last in the right place at the right time.

The next day we awoke to a crisp frosty carpet covering the land. Due to the immense wall of rock on the other side of the lake, due east, we were in shadow for a longish time after sunrise. It was frustrating to see the sun warming the earth across the Chandra river to the west. We stayed wrapped up warmly in our bedclothes for about two hours after the rest of the world had already risen and celebrated the new day. On the other hand, we were able to experience a prolonged and spectacular sunrise shining over the glacier to the west, which was ample compensation.

lt was our first full day on the side of the lake. As soon as our world was bathed in golden warmth, we rose and completed our early morning rituals. After a simple breakfast I took out the crystals. I was acutely aware that this was the first time they had properly seen the light of day since they had first appeared into my life. I untied the filthy cotton rag shrouding them and at first sight they didn't look very impressive. A two foot high lumpy heap of clay met the eyes, brown-yellow-red and slightly gooey in the morning sun. So much trouble for a lumpy, crusty pile of debris? I wondered what was really going on. I was looking forward to cleaning a couple of them to find out what we had really found.

We chose one grubby lump each and walked down to the lake. Finding a small sandy beach through which a stream transported the lake's excess water into a small ravine, we sat down and started to work. And work it was, we soon discovered. Using a sharp knife, matchsticks and fingers, we slowly removed the packed clay from the crystals, and intricate, magical shapes appeared in front of our eyes. It took well over two hours of mounting excitement before we could sit back and appreciate what had been revealed.

I had never before seen a crystal so beautiful, so pristinely clear and full of life as the one sitting in the palm of my hand that morning. It seemed like a solidified fragment of the waters of the lake and it shone crystal silver. It seemed to suck greedily at the sunlight it had never seen, transforming the intense solar radiation into brilliant rainbows. It expressed its joy at being born after so many millions of years of waiting in the womb of the earth, in the only way it knew how. We put the two crystals together and sat in silence for a long while, and we contemplated our part in the destiny of these extraordinary crystal beings.

I came out of my reverie and looked at the crystals. Glistening. Fresh. Newly born, cleansed. I began to see human beings like these crystals, living for countless aeons hidden in darkness, our spirits dormant, waiting and trusting. Then, at the right time, being liberated from the black hole of sleep and eased out of the restrictive prison of matter. Being dumped, shapeless crusty lumps, into the light of day. Then gentle, loving hands appearing and slowly, so very slowly, cleaning away the dross, peeling away the layers of ancient residue which prevents us from shining and radiating our full beauty back into creation.

Finally we stand, fully open to life, our pure crystal cores receiving the light of the sun with joy, playing with it, transforming it, and transmitting it in rainbows back into the world. I prayed fervently to find a Being who would love me, and life, so much, that they would help to uncover my pristine core. Maybe, finding myself in this situation, I had?

My mind ranged further. Each crystal human being holds a living piece of the picture which, when complete, will... what? My train of images and thoughts ground to a halt. What keys do these particular crystals have in their keeping? What is their role in the scheme of things? Why have I really found them?

"Be patient. You will know at the right time."

I jumped and spun around. A soft voice had spoken to me as if just behind my shoulder, but there was nobody there! I observed my mind already starting to dismiss the experience as imagination but deep inside I knew it had really happened. I became scared.

"Do not fear. We are communicating with you, Crystal Gazer. This will be your name for a while, yet it will change. We are with you."

"Who... who are you?" I asked nervously.

"We are the Crystal Beings. You have liberated us so that we can now work in the world. Follow your intuition as you have done so far. Trust, Crystal Gazer." Deeply moved, I whispered a little self-consciously, "What must I do? Why have I found you?". "Not now", the voice replied. "This is not the right time. Stay open to us and do as you deeply know you must. We will communicate again".

For a while there was a vacuum, time stood still, and I realised I had stopped breathing. I sucked in air and became aware that Kim was watching me strangely. I relaxed and, filled with a burst of exhilaration, shot onto my feet and howled. After dancing an enthusiastic jig I walked awhile and re-played in my mind what had happened.

Nature had at last made direct contact! Spirit had talked with me! I had been dreaming of this for years and today it had finally happened! Momentarily the needle of my prideometer rose into the red but then fell again to a healthy tick-over. It was a subject I had been both very interested in and sceptical about, for as long as I had known the possibility existed. I had always wondered how real those reports from professional mediums and clairvoyants truly were, whether their experiences were 'guided imagination' and emerged from within themselves, or whether the voices came from 'outside themselves', so to speak. I just didn't quite know what to make of it all.

Carlos Castaneda calls the process seeing, when one's awareness is so harmoniously resonant with the universe that question, perception and understanding are coexistent in the same breath. As soon as a question is asked, the answer is there, and sometimes even manifests as a clear voice heard either in one's head, or seemingly close by. Imagination? Wishful thinking? Real? Part of me deeply wanted to know if it were possible to contact nature or spirit in a clear, unambiguous way. Now I knew for myself, and gave thanks.

After this, our existence at Chandratal took on a timeless, dreamlike quality as one experience flowed into another. Our days were spent in meditation, sitting with and cleaning the crystals, exploring, dreaming, practising spiritual exercises such as breathing and yoga, and getting to know one another. We felt loved and cared for by the spirit of the place, and we loved and appreciated its beauty in return. We moved and breathed in a dream state where everything had meaning and held manifold secrets to unfold, and where there was love between us and nature around us. The sacred filled our lives as our hearts filled with love and deep peace.

In that hallowed place of high energy and dreams realised, I gave thanks to the guiding star that lit up my path even in the darkest of nights. It felt now as though I could never lose it, but this state of affairs was not always so. In fact, it was only relatively recently I had made contact with my star, after probably the greatest shift in consciousness in my lifetime. I remembered the impossible task I faced only five or six years before: stalking and then facing my fears.

As I settled in to my new home in the Sinai, I took in my surroundings. The sand was a white powder that felt soft on the skin, and it stretched in huge dunes along a coastal strip ten miles wide from Eilat in the north to Ras Muhammad in the south. It surged inland like a solid sea until it hit the high range of yellow-brown mountains separating the coastal plain from the interior. The Sinai is primarily a mountainous desert interspersed with sandy areas; if one knows where and how to look, beautiful sweet water is never very far away.

The Gulf of Eilat sparkled azure blue in the sunlight. Running just off the coast there is one of the most famous and beautiful coral reefs in the world. From its colourful, protective abundance the beach community caught a lot of its food, and I experienced hours of pleasure cruising slowly over forests of gently waving and darting sea-life with a borrowed snorkel and mask. On the far side of the water towered the mountains of Saudi Arabia. At sunset they were reflected off the still water in vibrant maroons and crimsons that gave the Red Sea its name.

The people who inhabited the beach at Nuweiba, a coastal oasis on the Gulf of Aqaba, were colourful and dedicated travellers. A collection of strange and wonderful dwellings had sprung up, both attached to the palm trees and also standing free on the sand. They were made from cardboard, blankets, driftwood and old tents, providing the owners with all the protection from the elements that was needed. As a rule the worst they needed to withstand was the sand-storm season early in the year. On average, them are two days of rain per year in the Sinai!

A large proportion of the travellers there chose nakedness as their everyday mode of dress, and most sunbathed without wearing clothes. I found it both extremely beautiful and very scary. The casual naturalness of the people there and their all-over tans lent them an almost otherworldly beauty. I wished at a very deep level to attain the depth of beauty they had reached.

I knew instinctively that this state is only minimally dependant on physical appearance. It manifests when there is nothing to hide, and embodies a type of internal grace that only appears after deep self-examination and transformation. I was put directly on the spot, having to face my demons around exposing my body in public. I was thrown back to the childhood where I couldn't go swimming with my friends because I thought my body was fat and ugly, making excuses to stay at home. Side by side with that fear was the fear that I would become sexually aroused when speaking with a naked woman, and added to that was the fear that people would find me lacking because my manhood was too small.

I decided that, initially, I would take off all covering, at least while sunbathing, and if I felt comfortable with that (which actually took some time, especially when anyone came close and addressed me) I would venture naked short distances away from our home base.

Soon I was revelling in the incredible feeling of freedom and naturalness this simple behaviour liberated in me. In itself, just to feel the breeze and sun on my sensitive naked body was enough. I had started to step out of hiding, to project myself, warts and all, into the world, and to love myself. I gave thanks for my great good fortune.

I honoured the spirit of the Sinai for its magical environment and for providing me with its teachings. I was learning how to survive in a potentially lethal environment in which one slip could result in death. It was both real and ruthless. This way of living throws one into a state of constantly heightened awareness, and opens a gateway to understandings not normally avvailable in one's everyday life.

Having long periods of time to myself in this high-energy realm, I was able to explore parts of my psyche that normally stay hidden. After a short while I contacted my fear. To be honest, I didn't actively seek it. It simply appeared in my awareness in a way that I couldn't avoid, and it stayed. For most of my waking hours I started to feel very uncomfortable in myself, experiencing at first hand the manifold ways in which fear manifested in my life. As a result of this demon I had screwed up so many important situations in the past. Repeatedly. I was sickened and angered by my constant surrender to fear.

My fear-contemplations became obsessive, and for days I stalked over the desert sands or sat in distressed silence, driven by an angry determination to get to the bottom of the problem. I knew that I would fail, as usual, of course, yet I humoured my process. I lived and re-lived those times in my life when fear overcame me.

As a child, I was terrified of the dark. At night I always needed the door open, which let in light from the hallway, but even this was not enough. I would lie in bed just before lights-out, a condemned child, silently awaiting my demons. And then they would come, making horrible faces on the walls of the room, gibbering unintelligible noises at me, disappearing and appearing in disturbing ways. A particularly violent spirit would shoot under my bed and would reappear, screaming so loudly it would shock me awake every time.

They would get me whatever I did. I would try to hide, shivering under the bedclothes, until I felt little feet or fingers running over the surface of the bed. I would try to will them away, yet they played with my fear much as a cat plays with a mouse. They would use their powers to keep up the suspense, making my nerves jump and jangle like a tightly strung musical instrument. I would stay still for as long as I could, but not seeing what was happening was even worse than witnessing the worst.

One particular memory was very vivid: I was maybe five years old and I was playing happily in the lounge one autumn evening when there was a power cut. The room was plunged into darkness, my former playful mood was severed and instinct took over. In sudden and abject terror, my body spasmed into the foetal position and lay paralysed, silent, sweating. I was filled with primal fear and I heard myself whimpering as from a distance, until the lights came on again perhaps fifteen minutes later.

When things were bad, these fears would manifest in my everyday consciousness. I would start to see objects, mostly people, out of the comer of my eyes. They would always be staring at me, waiting for me. For what? To remember what I had done and to come with them, of course, for I couldn't escape my fate...

I once visited a hero of mine, a psychologist called R D Laing, who had written some great books such as Knots, and Bird of Paradise. I spent an hour sitting opposite him, nervously speaking while he listened. The whites of his eyes showed quite shockingly while he repeatedly cracked his knuckles. Finally, the verdict. In the only words he had uttered all evening, he pronounced: "You are scared of your own imagination". And that was it.

It actually helped a lot, for the worst symptoms disappeared for a while. I also realised that there was at least one expert who recognised I wasn't completely loony and had to be locked up for my own safety and that of others...

Other impressions filled me: of having to walk at night and leaving the reassuring pools of lamplight. Reluctantly entering the domain of those beings and forces, both invisible and out of my control, the denizens of darkness. Of feeling icy fingers crawling up and down my body, the stealthy noises just below the threshold of consciousness, the increased breathing rate, the cold sweat. The fight to retain control, yet feeling it all slip away into a screaming, panic-ridden flight through the darkness towards my home. Who and what am I if this sort of reaction rules my life?

Life is the gift of gifts given to us by Great Spirit, to love and enhance at every opportunity. Light and darkness manifest in equal measure – such is natural law. Until my Sinai adventure, I had trained myself to cling on to the light and to shrink away from darkness as if it were poison. My mind knew that, in a perfect world, there is a beauty and power inherent in darkness that is the equal of the light, only different. My soul cried out: I want to get to know it! I want to learn to dance with it! I want to be free!

My enslavement to fear generated a frustration, an anger, that was blindingly intense and difficult to direct. I invariably blamed myself, my weakness, my cowardice, my impotence. After such an emotional storm I would return to consciousness, either as the righteous, indignant tyrant with the battered traitor at my feet, or as the persecuted, abused child that could never do anything right.

As a compensation, I'd always attempted to choreograph my waking existence so that I would be in a 'safe' place by the time it got dark, but it was obvious I couldn't sustain this crazy behaviour for the rest of my life. Besides, by now I'd just passed through a magical gateway into my present state of consciousness and I knew I could ignore this state of affairs no longer.

I was aware it was not only the physical darkness that affected me. I used to falter at any manifestation of the Unknown, whether it was the power inherent in the Silence, the energy released by trans-rational processes, or situations in which I found myself out of control. Yet here in the Sinai I felt in my bones that something was fundamentally different. There was now an opening to get to grips with the problem and bring real change into my life. But how?

Some conclusions started to become clear. Although I was a fearful person on all fronts, my pitiful state could be symbolised or encapsulated by my fear of the dark. if I were able to create a strategy to work with my fear of the dark in manageable doses, I believed I could succeed in changing and healing myself.

Walking is a symbolic, archetypal action that represents movement and change to my psyche. To walk means to travel along a spiritual Path through life, to meet and assimilate those teachings and transformational experiences that are my destiny, and to move on. If I could combine both walking, and facing the darkness.... Suddenly, a plan became clear to my inner sight. I would start a regime of walking in the darkness, initially when the moon was full.

As I gained confidence and proficiency, I would spend increasing lengths of time in progressively darker phases of the moon until, finally, I would be able to walk tall in the dark of the moon. Fullmoon is almost as bright as daylight on the white sand of the Sinai, and I was sure I could do it. An essential factor in all of this was that I had a deeply respectful and loving relationship with the spirit of the Sinai, and I knew it would look after me.

And walk I did. I left my little driftwood dwelling whenever it felt right, and walked increasing distances in the moonlight. As soon as I consciously started this work, I saw the beauty and stillness I had been missing for so long. The desert lent itself to this process in a spectacular way. The soft sand shone like snow in the silver light, and the silence that emerged away from civilisation ceased to be a threat to me. It started to soothe the frantic mind that had kept me noisily enslaved for years and I knew that something very important had begun.

As my trust grew I emerged for walks with less and less moon until finally I could walk with no other illumination than the stars. At first this was very difficult for me and sometimes it felt as if my fear wasn't changing or diminishing at all. Yet, as time passed, I sensed changes in my relationship to both the darkness and the hidden taboo places inside myself. This, I hasten to add, happened slowly over years, as I returned time and time again to continue my training in the Sinai.

I found I started to perceive in a completely differently way at night. In the darkness the safe and familiar power of sight is useless and some other means of perception is essential. The senses of smell, sound and sensation are heightened, yet they alone will not enable a nervous body to move with confidence through the Unknown. I found that Trust and Feeling became my new guides through the new medium I was exploring.

I realised after a while that something inside myself knows everything, and this knowledge will manifest automatically given the right circumstances and encouragement. For example, starting to walk in the pitch dark began in a jerky, painfully slow way. How could I know that my foot would land in a safe place if I could not see? By persevering night after night, week after week, I started to develop a sense of what lay on the ground before my foot touched it. Finally, I could stride out into the darkness with total confidence, trusting that my 'feeling knowledge' would warn me of any dangers ahead.

I learnt to glide through the dark currents of night without disturbing anything, invisible, animal, at one with the shadows whose realm this is. When I attained this level of proficiency, I felt what I call 'gentle power' flow through my system. It filled my energy-body with a vibrant, confident and wild power. My aura filled the space around me like three dimensional antennae, making me aware of everything in my surroundings.

What used to be terrors lurking in the darkness are now treasures ready to be brought to consciousness when I am ready. And treasures they are, beyond my wildest dreams. Among them are friends and allies with which to play whenever I feel lonely.

I remember vividly my graduation day in the desert, five years after I first consciously decided to walk in the dark. On the night of the full moon I was invited with some friends to a party which was being held in a dwelling inland amongst some very high sand dunes. We arrived at sunset and settled in to some lively conversation and games. It soon became apparent that the people there were not my type. I didn't feel safe there, yet I decided to stay for experience's sake. Two of the guests had just arrived from England and had with them a large amount of psilocybin mushrooms concealed in a hollow book. It is probably the second safest book in which to smuggle drugs into Israel: the Bible!

A large pot of mushroom tea appeared and we consumed the lot. Soon my feelings about the situation became visual and the scene transformed itself into a battleground of sorcerers vying for power and one-upmanship. I stayed neutral and although none of the arrows or lightning bolts were aimed at, or hit, me, I had had enough. I went outside into the night in order to walk back over the dunes to my home.

Suddenly all of the fears that I thought I had mastered come back with a vengeance. A huge surge of energy hits me like a lightning bolt and I am knocked breathless to the ground. In the foetal position, I am once again in panic. Although my body and survival mechanisms are in paroxysm, my mind is crystal clear. I know I have three options: to return to the party to a situation I hated, to remain here paralysed in my panic, or to face my fears and walk home. As I look at myself, as from above, I know that I have only one option. To do what I want to do, to walk home, is to affirm life. The other two options are a denial of my spiritual quest. To deny myself means that my spirit will die, and I've been doing that far too much already. Somehow I know that this night, this situation, is the culmination of all my efforts to deal with my fear. It is literally do, or spiritually die.

Perhaps it is the most difficult thing I have to do in my life. I feel alone, deathly alone, a little human ant walking to its doom. Slowly I get to my feet, climb the sand dune in the direction of my home, and reach the top where it levels out. The silvery light shows the sand sculpted into little wavelets and runnels by the wind, stretching into the distance. The full moon shines cold and silver above the path. The sea sparkles electric black into infinity. And there are my fears, on either side of the path I have to take, waiting to destroy me.

Everything I have brought into existence, or imagined lurking in the darkness, has come to this sandy plain, tonight, to greet its creator. All the panic and intense feeling I have pumped out into the night is poised to return to its originator. My fears have all taken on form and wait in front of me, blocking my way. I cannot fight against natural law. I have to accept the sentence, the situation, for there is no alternative.

I pray, for there is nothing left for me to do.

And yet, what is this? With a sense of warmth and compassion, I remember all of the spiritual work, the hopes and prayers I have made in honour of Great Spirit throughout my life. These are my creations too, and here they are, behind me, supporting me, giving me the strength to go on. And little Ivan, a human being born to embody the endless battle between darkness and light, stands wavering between the two.

I have no choice. I start to walk, against all my instincts for self-preservation, towards these soulless beings which reach out to grab me, tear me, drive me mad, eat me, crush me. I am passing their front ranks now and am ready to die horribly. But I have already passed some and nothing has happened! Hey! Wait a minute!

I inspect those beings level with me and realise with surprise that they cannot reach me, or if they do, their limbs just pass through me like mirages. I ponder this awhile, then a realisation shoots through me. Fear can only frighten or shake a person off balance. Fear by itself is powerless to harm or damage a person. A person can only harm him or herself as a result of losing his/her centre through fear.

Feeling like I have just been given a new cosmic toy, I look one demon in the eye and thumb my nose at it. It disappears! I blow a raspberry at another it pops out of existence like a burst balloon. I do other equally silly things to a few others and soon I am walking light-heartedly over the silver sands towards a new start, a new star that shines vibrantly before me. The demons are gone.

What I instinctively know as a consequence of this whole experience is that personal power lies behind a person's fear. Fear is a feeling, subject to our interpretation of it. Fear actually indicates a gift, or a power on a warrior's passage through life. My experience in the Sinai hasn't destroyed my fear, it has merely transformed my experience of it. Don't get me wrong. I still know fear and sometimes run from it. Yet once it was solely an enemy. Now it is an ally helping to point out those places where my power, or my real self, lies still hidden. We've all been taught that taking one's power can be very scary, yet it can be sweet, oh so sweet!

And as for the star that appeared for me then, high in the heavens: I follow it still and will never lose sight of it again.