Our time at Chandratal took on a slow-motion, dreamy quality where dream and waking reality mingled like mirages over the sea. We occupied many different realities at once, and it felt completely natural to flow wherever the current took us. I recognised that incredible gifts were being showered upon us at that time, and hoped I would be able to remember at least some of them after we had left.

One night as I lay on my back dancing with the stars, my attention was drawn to a dome-shaped rocky outcrop about fifty yards away. A hole appeared in its solid black mass, mistily at first, then with increasingly clarity. The scene was bathed in glistening starlight and it seemed as if the Universe held its breath in mystery and promise. My whole being shivered, and then I started to move.

I arise from my place beside Kim and walk towards the rock. On one hand my mind is nervous and thinks it is all impossible, and on the other, I feel that it's the most natural thing in the world. I enter a tunnel of shining rock, which soon opens out into a large circular cave where a ring of men and women dressed in flowing white robes are standing.

There are probably thirty or so hooded beings there, all focusing on an intensely bright ball of white light in the centre of the circle. It pulses and crackles silently, shooting rainbow rays from its centre, through the ring of people and solid rock walls of the cave, into the world beyond. I know immediately that the ball of light embodies the intent of the forces of harmony and evolution at work. Those in the circle have only to focus their love and will for it to succeed, and as long as this circle exists, the Plan will unfold in accordance with the sacred. I am on autopilot, and wait for action.

I stand inside an adjoining antechamber for a short while, then walk towards one of the members of the circle. He moves away from his position, and without pausing I take his place. I realise I am dressed in a white robe like everyone else. All of my attention is then drawn to the ball of light in the centre and I know that, whatever happens, I have to keep my concentration pure and strong until it is time for someone to replace me. It is all actually quite simple. I relax into it, and it is as if the ball of white light is meditating me. All I have to do is to keep myself available. My attention is seized by its scintillating focus and there seems nothing I can do to break its grip. My energy body becomes activated in a controlled rush of life-force. It crackles through my entire being and then shoots out through my heart as it connects with the central light. The circle of people is always changing as new beings come with fresh energy to keep the spirit fire burning. A part of me observes these workings out of the corner of my eyes, and I stay there in vigil until I know when to leave. My body moves under automatic pilot and I watch as my space is immediately filled. All is well with the circle, and the world.

I gave thanks for this wonderful experience and felt at peace. I left the cave and returned to my bed. I realised that, around the world, there are groups of people who participate in 'eternal choirs' active in the Dreamtime, circles that are committed to keep the spirit flame burning without ceasing. In our everyday lives also, there are times when we are called to hold the torch of spirit in certain situations and a power much greater than our own is there to help us.

When it is our time, all we have to do is hold, with all our being, what is good, true and fully in accordance with the sacred, and we will ensure that life and love will always survive in our world.

Perhaps the most dramatic encounters we had were our regular afternoon tea-time visitors. We called them the Dust Devil Dancers. Bored with the unceasing monotony of the Chandra river, they would gather up steam in the canyon, shoot up its steep sides and investigate the plateau above.

Fifty or a hundred feet high columns of rapidly whirling dust, they would flatten pathways across the grassy plains, sucking up all sorts of loose debris, and descend to the lake. Announcing themselves with a high pitched whine, they would generate in us a mixture of fear and excitement. As they got closer, the sound would rise to an explosive crescendo which made me think of a group of express trains approaching orgasm. We would take avoiding action if there was time, or hug the ground with our hands over our ears if they appeared without warning. They never actually hit us but I had at least one near miss, when one passed no more than six feet away. I am not sure how dangerous they were but whenever they were around, some sizeable unidentified flying objects were sometimes seen whirling about high above our heads.

Gazing was an activity high on my list of priorities during our time there. The atmosphere was perfect: still, dreamy, and high energy. It has always appealed to me, sitting silently in a comfortable position and, well, gazing at things. Shadows cast on the ground by blades of grass and small rocks or pebbles are my favourite subjects and have the greatest effect on me, followed closely by fires, crystals, rocks and large shadowy forested places.

The rules are simple: decide on what you are going to focus on, for instance the shadows cast on a small area of ground, maybe a foot square. Make yourself comfortable, breathe slowly and deeply, and relax. With eyes half closed, scan the area gently and zero in on the shadows. Try to forget how you usually perceive, which is to look for objects such as a shape of a rock, a stem of grass, or the form of a twig. You are entering a shadowy reality now, and it is important to see and experience the universe that shadows like to live in. They are the 'things' here; the rocks and grass are only a vague background filler.

Allow your eyes to change their focus and learn to let go of your normal reality. And explore! Layers upon layers of different worlds will appear before your eyes, some quite similar to the ones preceding, some radically different. Try not to become too fixed on anything, but keep your eyes gently moving. I don't understand what I see; I'm not interested in what it is, and understanding is not necessary for this exercise to succeed. In fact, as soon as a thought enters the scenario, you will lose your focus and will have to start all over again. The experience itself has a quality of exploration, contacting other vast sources of life energy, and has a profound effect on one's life force. I see it as exercising and developing one's spirit muscles, and if it is done enough, it opens up possibilities deemed completely impossible in everyday consciousness. It's fun too!

By the lake, while cleaning my daily crystal, gazing was both automatic and easy. Starting from a clay spattered lump I would gaze at the unfolding birth of the incarnating Crystal Being with wonder. The stories they told me while opening to the light were wonderful and exquisite, and impossible to even start to share in words.

They spoke more, too. Unfortunately, as I didn't record these conversations at the time, I have forgotten most of them. Such is the nature of higher consciousness. However, I have impressions of what passed between us: crystal lore and history, their relationship with the life forms on this planet and of the planet itself, other planets even. They spoke of the life and awareness they embody, how they are appearing to enhance the consciousness of humans, and much more. When these memories are needed, I have every confidence they will emerge.

When I completed cleaning a crystal, I would sit and and gaze into it. I would catch the daylight on its flat planes, and see how that would feel. I would play with the reflections skidding off its surface, then I would go inside, turning it slowly, until patterns or shapes would appear that caught my attention. I would allow my eyes to change focus whenever they wanted, uncovering the secrets of that unique crystal in all its intricate beauty. Then I would play with reflection and refraction, combining the effects created by the light rays bouncing off its flat planes, and those bending and wriggling through its depths, emerging in different speeds and directions. I would eventually enter bodily and travel through it, greeting each facet of its personality on my journey. Strange entities and feeling clusters would often greet me and invite me to spend time with them. Sometimes they would lead me on journeys that would defy description, for long periods of time. Sometimes I would simply sit quietly in a glassy rainbow cave. What a world opened up for me there on the shores of the Lake of the Moon!

Other occupations filled our time too. Kim and I had bought flutes in a village on the way to Shat, and we played them often. They were in tune together; she had a pink one and I had a green one. In the silent spaces between giggles and shy smiles, we would send our creative harmonies and joy of life winging outwards. In that special environment, they would then return back to us from whichever rock faces were closest, or most enthusiastic. It seemed as if the Mother was adding her harmonies to ours.

Our favourite place by the lake was a sheltered sandy bay a quarter of the way around the southern shore. Most days we spent time there swimming, sunbathing and dreaming. From that side of the lake the glacier and range of snow-capped serrated mountains were reflected off the still surface. If one can be irradiated by intense beauty, Kim and I were filled and filled again.

And there I met my first dragon, in the flesh. While gazing at the sheer rock face hanging over the lake one day, my eyes changed focus and a group of numinous shapes leapt out at me. I recoiled in fright. Gazing has its dangers, and can sometimes cause great shock to the system. Gathering myself and cautious now, I looked again and spent a long time investigating the rock. Five creatures, or spirit beings, hung hugely on the cliff face as if guardians of the space, and I introduced myself to them. An immense black beetle, perfectly clear now I had changed focus, stared at me with sightless eyes and welcomed me into its space. It was Kephera, one of my major teachers in life, and I realised that it had guided me to this wonderful Dreamspace. I remembered the way it had revealed itself as scarab to Kim and myself at the forestry cottage near Buntah, and I felt as if I had finally found its spirit home.

Close to it hung a spider in the centre of its web of fissures, cracks and mineral seams on the multicoloured cliff-face. It exuded power and a menace that I understood to be due to my lack of experience with spider energy. I talked to it, thanked it for revealing itself to me, and made a promise to investigate, recognise and get to know the spider energy that resided within me. My feelings changed and I knew that it was satisfied. Two more creatures stood out of the rock nearby, yet they have left my consciousness. I will no doubt remember them at the right time, when I am ready for it.

In the sloping part of the mountain between cliff and lake lay a huge sleeping dragon. It was much larger than the other creatures, maybe four hundred yards long, and I was amazed at how it stood out so clearly to my sight. It had a classic western form, it was huge and this sighting was my first real confirmation that such creatures actually exist. It looked as if it had been sleeping since the beginnings of time; I had no fear of it imminently waking and posing any consequent danger. Two nights before, I dreamt of being confronted by a fierce, very awake dragon and it evoked terror in me. I wondered if these two events were connected. As I continued to gaze, my body started to tingle, a rush of energy filled me with gentle fire, and I stood up. Facing the dragon, I started to sing at first softly, then with increasing strength:

Arise, awake, dear spirits of the earth!
Welcome south, welcome north;
West and east together.
Arise, awake! We herald the birth
Of the dawning star together;
The central spark, Creator;
Shining far, for ever:
Come alive! Come alive! Come alive!

Silence. Peace. Hello again, dear dragon. I remember you now, and our previous relationship together. Thank you for making contact with me, and allowing me to find you again. You have taught me, shared so much of yourself with me, and I pray that I may fulfil the tasks you have entrusted into my care.

That night Kim and I were snug under our makeshift canopy gazing at the stars and talking softly. We had been at Chandratal over three weeks and both of us felt replete with the lifestyle and the experiences given to us in that hallowed place. It was the night of the full moon and Jupiter hung in the western sky, reflected brilliantly from a thousand diamond points on the glacier.

An increasing silver-white glow heralded the imminent arrival of the moon from behind the eastern mountains. All was silent, and we communed in hushed tones in order to retain and reinforce the blanket of peace which caressed us. A needle point of white light suddenly pierced our dark shadowy space and was followed by the lunar disc, almost blinding in its intensity.

As it rose a circular, dusty area of ground close to our shelter started to glow in a strange, otherworldly way, and became an arena within which something was about to happen. The lunar force produced razor sharp shadows and seemed to hiss as it hit the ground. I was filled with surging energy and realised I was losing control. I felt as if I could do anything, and knew something outrageous was about to happen. I focused in on a small ingot of tin I carried in my bag. While researching the different magical properties of metal in England, I had melted a bag of pure tin flakes and cooled it into ingot form. For some reason, I had brought it with me on my travels. I felt the energy take over, and surrendered to its all-consuming purpose.

The energy takes over. I don't know what is about to happen, but my body does. I let go of the last vestiges of control and become the Witness. I sit bolt upright, shocking Kim, then jump out of my bedroll, grab my shoulder bag and extract the tin. I scrabble inside my rucksack for my mineral hammer, then stride out of the shelter. With the driving, irresistible force of a bull, I search the area for a flat rock suitable for an anvil, find it, and place it in the centre of the arena.

With the tin in my left hand and hammer in my right, I hold the metal aloft and bless it by the light of the moon (which I hear my Self refer to as Big Eye) and by the diamond brilliance of Jupiter. As the silver metal glows in my hand I see it as a silver arrow crafted from tin, the sacred metal of Jupiter, aimed by Big Eye, and let fly by spirit.

Any semblance of control leaves and wild energy takes over. On to hands and knees, forehead touching the earth. Tin held on anvil, moon glinting, cold metal. Hammer heavy and metallic, creative tool of the moment, extension of my body. Arm rising, then falling. Rising, falling, again and again, Crash! Crash! The sound rends the stillness of the night and rings from the mountains. The space fills with the groans of transmutating metal and the sounds of the sacred Smithy.

Right arm pumping, left hand delicately rotating, body moving, dancing, body and spirit at one. Tin creaking and crafting into new life, malleable, the stuff of dreams, unfolding before my eyes. Like a magical silver flower it expands and moves this way and that, growing from my fingers, a time-delay sequence that jerks and changes with each impact of the hammer. Crash! Crash! Sparks flying from the anvil into the surroundings, wild energy, rippling muscles, precise coordination, wild staring eyes. I watch on, unable and unwilling to disrupt what is unfolding, as the giant Thor wields his hammer of creation. Lightning flashes through the night and thunder splits the heavens.

An arrowhead, a shaft, then fletching appears as my body moves without pause, fluid and guided. At length movement ceases, silence returns, and the Gods depart. I find myself still kneeling, master again of my own body and staring in wonder at the beautiful silver arrow in my left hand. I arise holding the arrow aloft and scream "IOWA!" at the top of my lungs in exuberance, exaltation and release.

I replace the anvil from where I found it, then thank Jupiter, Big Eye, and Spirit. I return to Kim and we admire the arrow together. Pure, sensual, streamlined and silver, it holds beauty and a deep responsibility. I vow to fire the arrow at the right time and place, with awareness, and in accordance with spirit.

Then we realise that the events of that magical night have only just started.

Full of energy and on top form, I found myself talking softly but intensely about the times I had been taken over by spirit, forced to take the passenger seat, so to speak, and had to watch on while my body acted on its own volition in some situation or other. I mused aloud about how spirit chooses people and trains them to become vessels or channels for its purposes on earth. I explored how it enters people, tricks people, and nudges them along pathways which, if thought about rationally, would be avoided like the plague.

The lazy warmth of Goa has called me and I am renting a small room in a village on the coast called Shapura. I am enjoying my early morning special, a papaya lassi, at a table underneath the huge mango tree in the village centre. It is a sleepy morning with sunbeams filtering gently through the leaves, casting flickering shadows onto the dusty road below.

Raised voices. A German tourist is arguing with one of the taxi drivers (the taxis in Goa are motor bikes) and it seems very out of place in the sleepy scene. Stupid idiot. This continues for a few minutes, attracting a small crowd. Suddenly the atmosphere changes and I am puzzled to see the Indian men scatter from the central group and disappear to the sides of the road. I soon find out why. Armed with sticks and bottles, they run back to what is now a scuffle between the German man and two or three taxi drivers. Baying like a pack of hounds flushing out the kill, the Indians fall on their victim, drag him into the centre of the roadway, and start to beat him up. No holds barred, violent. Now an unseeing, unthinking mob, twenty or so of them are fighting amongst themselves to have a chance to swing their weapons and strike the German mercilessly.

As I watch this macabre scene unfold in paralysed fascination I feel a huge surge of energy and everything takes on a slow motion quality. I see and hear acutely, yet strangely as if through a filter of silence and great distance, a bit like looking down a telescope the wrong way. I stand up and take in the scene around me. A large crowd has gathered, a large proportion of them Westerners, and they watch the scene in a mixture of paralysis and ghoulish fascination. One of their comrades is being systematically bludgeoned to death in front of their eyes, and nobody moves a muscle to help. I am calm and peaceful, feeling compassion for the victim, the aggressors, the spectators.

My body starts to move calmly and with a purpose of its own. I find myself gliding silently through the crowd which moves unconsciously aside to let me through. I walk straight into the frenzied mob and reach the German, shielding him with my body and calmly waiting for guidance. When I know what I have to do, I pick him up and lead him to the tree until he leans against it, all the time protecting him with my body. Meanwhile, the Indians keep thrusting, punching and kicking under my arms, around my sides, and between my legs attempting to hit him. In my almost sleepwalking state, I am amazed that not once have I been hit, either on purpose or by accident. I scream at them to stop and eventually they stand back, panting, eyes still glazed and unseeing, waiting.

I see that the German is bruised and battered yet not severely damaged, and is able to walk unaided. I tell him to beat it, to go to his hotel or room, and wait in safety until he can leave the village. He seems to understand. I turn around and shoo the Indians away, telling them he is going to leave. The German now starts to walk away and, when he seems safe, I return to my table and resume the interrupted demolition of my lassi.

After only a minute the shouting starts again, and I see that the bloody idiot has gone back to the original taxi driver and has started to fight with him again. In a trice the mob descends upon him, determined not to lose their prey a second time.

The first operation is repeated almost identically, but I have far more difficulty to half-carry the now bleeding and heavily bruised man back to the tree. When the Indians have again stood back, I ask the crowd if anyone knows him. A man and two women step forward, white with shock. With quiet authority I tell them to take him home, help him pack, and escort him away from the village. Immediately. This time he listens, and I see with satisfaction the little group, supporting each other, walking away down the road. It seems that this time, I might actually be able to finish my lassi!

It is only when I sit down again that I start to shake. I realise that what has happened is an impossibility. I cannot possibly have done what I obviously have done. First of all, I am in a sorry state myself. My life is in crisis, I am severely mentally unstable and experience an uncontrollable paranoia during much of my waking life. I am very depressed and often in fear of going insane.

Secondly, violence in any form causes me to tense up inside so as to be practically useless in such situations. Mob violence has always been one of my deepest terrors.

This situation has blown away my idea or picture of myself in one fell swoop. Who am I? What am I? I cannot deny that it was I who walked out into an arena where most humans fear to tread. After this incident my life returned to its usual level, as if nothing had happened. What did actually happen? And why me? I have no answers.

Soon after I had finished relating this story, Kim heard something.

"Did you hear that?", she asked nervously.

" What was it?", I asked, also a bit spooked.

"Something is singing out there", she said. "Something faint but very strong."

I heard myself say: "Oh, that's OK, it's the moth."

"What?"

"The moth that brings knowledge. She sings sweetly when she's about to reveal herself and share her gifts with someone."

I was a bit surprised as the words came out of my mouth automatically, with no premeditation. I also felt a bit wicked, and just managed to keep a straight face. Carlos Castaneda, my guide and mentor for many years, talks about the moth of knowledge and his vivid description of it had touched me deeply.

I continued my spontaneous monologue. I had no personal experience of the moth, at least not consciously, yet some mischievous impulse kept me speaking.

"The moth is the friend of those who seek wisdom. If we are lucky, she will come closer tonight and may even touch us."

I could feel that Kim thought I was crazy, but the atmosphere was so magical and pregnant with possibility that we both felt that anything could happen.

The other-worldly singing came again and we huddled closer together. This strange noise grew louder and more noticeable over the background sounds of silence, then the moth appeared. She fluttered around our heads and kept butting into us as if prodding us to wake up. I have had the experience of receiving allies of this nature in the past and was able to relax into the process. I could see that Kim was tempted to brush the moth away as an automatic reflex, but she curbed her impulses and finally relaxed.

And then we received her gifts.

I slowly became aware of my surroundings. Kim seemed asleep, still sitting up opposite me in the shelter, and the night sky was ablaze in silver light. Energy rushed through my system; I felt euphoric and wanted to scream my joy into the four directions. I managed to desist, however, and was able to experience an overwhelming sensation of bliss and completeness. For I had discovered why I had found the crystals, and what I had to do with them.

In the Silence created by the presence of the moth, I had been given instructions informing me of the role I had to play in the destiny of the crystals.

There were three definite parts to the plan, the last two of which I promptly forgot. Knowledge came that night and my life had found a new course. I knew that change had come, but at that time I had no idea of the scope of that change. In fact, it would completely reshape and redirect my life.

As I lay under Jupiter and the full moon I was filled with a sense of destiny, and for the first time in my life I had a worthy task, a real purpose. Whatever that task really meant, whether its effects were personal, planetary or pointless, it had been given to me by Spirit and I knew I would see it through to the end.

The task: to plant the majority of the crystals I had found into the sacred places of the British Isles, and at specific power points around the planet.

After the instructions had been given, it was as if the grounds for being at Chandratal were withdrawn. It was apparent that we would have to leave soon, and an atmosphere of completion set in. The season was obviously quite far advanced. It was getting colder at night and the daytime sun was losing power appreciably. One day it was cloudy and an ominous feeling settled over us; I felt fear for our safety for the first time. In the afternoon it snowed lightly, and we both knew that our appointment at the Lake of the Moon was at an end.

The next morning we packed, said our goodbyes and expressed our gratitude to that wonderful sacred place. In a welter of conflicting emotions we left, walking back the way we had come, and made our way to the shepherd's shelter by the bubbling spring.

We arrived in the early afternoon and spent the rest of the day sunbathing on the grass. Frantically flitting insects buzzed and hummed in the air, making the most of the last few days before the big freeze. Despite the paradisiac situation, a heaviness hung in the air. It was as if the high spiritual energy at the lake had held back our everyday realities like some sort of psychic dam. Denied for so long, they were back with a vengeance. Rampant feelings and petty hurts surfaced like multi-coloured fish in a turgid sea, only to disappear again without a ripple. That night we overcame this psychic storm and slept well.

That night it snowed again and we woke to a circular patch of crispy whiteness in the centre of our space, under the smoke-hole in the roof. On emerging from our shelter we realised with relief that there was no blizzard to cut off our retreat from the mountains. The morning was warm and sunny and we walked, this time downhill, to the realm of humans in the cafe at Batal. We celebrated with our first hot meal for a month: it was out of this world.

As I journeyed back to Manali I knew my time in India was complete. Within a couple of days I was speeding my way to the international airport at Delhi on the night train. I was filled with nervous energy and an enthusiasm to start my task as soon as possible.

In a moment of doubt I asked the crystals if they were really alive, and if they truly knew what they had to do in their part in the scheme of things. My attention was drawn immediately to the carriage window and I saw the shadowy countryside flashing past. The indistinct, rushing land was ablaze with pinpricks of pulsing flame. Although, rationally, these strange effects were produced by swarms of fireflies, I knew better. I had been answered, fully.

Any lingering doubts forever faded.