Saintes Marie de La Mer

I returned to France, the country of my birth, when the world went into chaos. A world that had shaped and formed me was left behind for a world that had birthed me. It felt welcoming in the unfamiliar way that it carried echoes of my ancestors, without the memories. I was 3 when we left and although I had been raised with all the songs and stories of this country it was a foreign land.

A lifetime had gone by but in a turbulent world like ours, going back to hereditary soil felt like a welcome sanctuary. I felt connected to the people I met in the village streets where I had landed. The Limousin. The quiet lands of central France, a little lost in time was just the respite I was after. . I began to sense that something had been calling me home.

It was the start of a whole new chapter. I began to reconnect with my roots and found new ones. There were beautiful people living in the green pastures and forests of the Limousin and they became friends, the tender roots were growing. Many of them were from England and had made home in a part of France that had been a little forgotten. They were also building anew.

I was drawn to the places where the waters flowed, the springs and the sacred wells. I found that I lived next to a sanctuary for pilgrimage where people came to drink the waters and walk the path with the Christ. In the forest, surrounded by birds and trees, a river flowed that held the footprints of seekers.

I was a seeker.

It was beautiful and quiet, it was peaceful. I went a few times a week to gather water from the well. A moss covered stone fountain with a spout that ushered waters day and night. A place where visions of Mother Mary had been seen for centuries. It quenched my thirst, in so many ways. Ways I didn't realise I had been thirsty.

Growing up in Western Canada, when you wandered in the forests you found only altars to the wild. The bears, the cougars, the deer.. so many deer. It was untouched and so big. Endless forests. It was still free from humanity. It was wild.

So I exchanged the wilderness of the Canadian forests for the wild spaces of France. They were so different, so curated by history. It was strange and beautiful to know thousands of souls had walked these woods and drank from these waters in search of solace and surrender. Something which I had found in the wilds of Vancouver Island, I now found in these forests and wells

My last few visits to France had been connected to Mary Magdalene. The mythic being that I had read about over so many years, who had inspired me to seek out anything I could about her. Text, story, legend, myth, anything about her life where I could feel the connection.

She is very much alive in the collective feminine of the Earth at this time. She is a symbol of the sacred rebel, standing to the separation that plagues humanity. She had been given a great task and gift. To walk and teach alongside with the Christ who would undergo a Great Initiation. Though strong and prepared by her initiatic upbringing, she still had to live out this extraordinary life side by side with the Christ and carry the responsibility and weight of such a life. A life that held the crucifixion on its horizon.

The ephemeral being of Mary Magdalene is sadly so often remembered as the prostitute who wept while washing the feet of Christ with her hair, in unashamed devotion. She did this in presence of the rest of the disciples and was met with both awe and resentment. Yeshuah, however, wept with her as he witnessed this woman of faith, a faith that mirrored his own, wash his feet with utter surrender. When she rose from her devotion and looked into his eyes he lifted her up and invited her to join them at their table and in their mission of Love.

It took until 2016, when Pope Francis elevated the annual memorial of Mary Magdalene on July 22 to that of a Feast Day, the same status as the celebrations of the apostles. It took nearly 2000 years for the church to fully acknowledge that she WAS the apostle of apostles.

It is Mary Magdalene who rushed out on what is now known as Easter morning to the place where they had rested the body of Christ. It is she who found the tomb open and empty. It is she who turned at the calling of her name to be met by the ascended form of the Christ, who warned her not to come too close as he was still weaving his newly forming light body. It is she who met the gaze of her beloved Christ and was shown the Way the Truth and the Life in Ascended form.

The Prophecy was complete. The Christ had completed the Rites of Resurrection and proven what all will one day prove, the illusion of this world does not end in death but in ascension.

The fact that she was finally recognised by the church changed nothing in the eyes of those who had always known. Mary Madgalene had been the first witness.

Those with eyes to see and ears to hear know that Mary Magdalene was a woman born and initiated into the teachings of Christ Consciousness. She had been an Initiate in the order of the Illuminated Ones just as her beloved Yeshuah. Her power had always been her own and her alliance with the Christ had been written in their energetic bodies for lifetimes before their union as teachers together in the Light. The Christ became the Solar Logos of the Earth, shining from the presence of his Illuminated Self as a beacon for humanity. The Knowing that the Light of the One, would one day cover the Earth and raise humanity with it. But that day was to be many many moons away, and many trials and tribulations were still to come.

Whether we believe in the Christ, the Resurrection, the Ascension or not does not change the fact that this story, this mythos and the teachings that ensued continue to echo through the halls of humankind. The teachings are a living wealth of inspiration and knowledge and the path ahead is paved with the mystery that no-one can decipher but through the heart.

Jesus said "Truly, truly, I say to you, the one believing in Me, the works that I do, also he will do. And he will do greater than these"​​

What is this other than a call to follow the Way lived by the teachings of Faith and Love that we may enter the temple of our hearts where all the answers lay. He was showing us the way, not saying I did it for you, but I showed you how..

It moves me so to know that she walked these same shores, these same forests. She woke up each morning to the work ahead and shared as best she could the teachings that had elevated her consciousness and her mission in this world. This incredible mission that they had been called to had lead Christ to his Ascension and the Mary's to exile. This is how it was written. Exile that lead them to these shores, the very shores I now stood upon.

Through their stories and through my own I have learned to listen to my heart and to endeavour to understand my mind. To know that Love is and will always be the answer to every question and the question to every answer. Love as an unconditional force always assisting the small and fragile beings that we are to keep moving through this heroic human life. To do so with Courage and Faith and a willingness to remain innocent amidst this sometimes dangerous dream. A dream that feels so very real and Is because we believe it to be. One we give our lifeforce to through our very breath and existence, and one we bolster with our beliefs.

This Earth is teaching us so much, and she has her ways of doing it. She too is a child of the Light and yet she too is the Mother to us all.

I have followed the silent stream that speaks to the wilderness within me and within man. Teachers such as Christ and Mary Magdalene left clues, so very many clues. In text yes but when we follow the trail, it becomes a lived experience. It is a feeling and once you feel it, it can never be drowned out. It may dim and become hard to hear but it is always there and it is what draws me forward.

Following this calling that comes from the Heart is a path. Many have walked it and many will to come. Today it is I that walk it and it asks so much. It asks so much that I am willing to give.

It sings of Liberation.

Liberation from what?

From feeling separate from Divine Love, the Great Love that is each beating heart upon this earth. Each animal breathing quietly in the dark, each tree pulling sap from its roots, each baby gazing with adoration into its mother and fathers eyes, each flower that never hesitates to look directly into the sun. It is the neverending promise of Spring and the neverending dance of the waves crossing continents and crashing to shore. It's the magic that this world tries to diminish and even extinguish, but cannot. For it is written.

It is knowing that every breath of this journey is a miracle. And a task.

One of my teachers, my angel once told me that miracles were never meant to be things that happened in rare and extraordinary occasions but that they were things that should happen every single day. The choice is to choose to believe it and then to practice it.

It is what has been called the Hero's journey. The Odyssey. The adventure of the most radical kind.

Does it get more radical than this?

To come into a world that has forgotten miracles, that has forgotten its Divinity and is lost in the maze of its own separation. Humanity's endless seeking to find ways to quiet the noise of separation and to shy away from the power of the choice. The choice to step into the fullness that is possible in every present moment. The choice that asks you to leave the separation behind.

How strange it is that choosing enslavement over freedom could become so hard.

When i first stumbled across Mary Magdalene as a teenager, I read about her trials of being born in an age where women could be stoned to death by a man who found offence in any way. I read about her in depth training starting at age 5 to learn to master her emotions and her body through yoga and breath, visualisation and meditation. I read about her intense loneliness that came from being within the protected walls of her home and the temples she studied in. I heard her call across the ages to the many women and men of today, that feel her presence.

The seeds she planted long ago are taking root. The time has finally come.

Mary Madgalene, Miriam of Magdala was born into a family educated in the Way. Hers was a secret life. Her visions of a world where women were held in the same esteem and with the same respect as their fellow men was something that boiled in her veins. Her life was dedicated to uplifting and resurrecting the feminine power within women and men upon the earth and today so many feel her calling to us through spirit.

She is calling through time because she knows we are ready now to hear her whole story. That we are ready to carry the flame of Divine Love and Divine Wisdom alongside her.

She was aware of the Kundalini lifeforce and its power to heal and transform both men and women. It was a gift from Creation, there to lift humanity up from its enslavement to forgetfulness, for indeed that is truly the only fault of humanity.

We forgot who we are.

And in so doing allowed other forces to enter and take control of the direction of humanity. This was nothing new in Mary and Christs timeline. It was already this way.

Their effort, their devotion, and their belief in the Freedom that comes from Knowing who we are and what we are divinely connected to lead them through the greatest trials and towards their Greatest Understanding.

It is a gift that has taken centuries to be accepted and integrated, always threatened by the fear that comes from believing in our separation. The terror that it is to believe you are alone in a dark and dangerous universe and not part of Creation is terrifying. When we don't Know that we are a ray, a hand, a heart and a courageous explorer of Creation, it IS terrifying.

And yet we are only one instant of connection away from this Knowing and Liberation.

Mary Magdalene's mission with Christ was done side by side and shoulder to shoulder, together. The Kingdom is within you. The sacred heart is the doorway. Theirs was a mission of love and empowerment that resounds through the stone and bone of our earth. Through the hearts of men and women who have not lost the true meaning of Christ and Magdalene's life, amidst the dogma of an institution that tried to erase them from the memory of man.

For 500 years the work of the Christ and Mary Magdalene in their shared mission of Light was under threat by the church. In the south of France in the region of Les Saintes Marie de la Mer, there is a culture that remembers her and the Christs teachings. They go on holding the old faith through the lineage of the Cathars. They protect and celebrate the living memory of not only Mary Magdalene but all the others that traveled the far seas to France in order to escape persecution. They came, exiled, bearing the good news of Christ's Life and Light , the teachings of empowerment and faith that was their life's mission, and Creators gift. These people heard and listened.

This is the very shore I stood upon in September of 2023. Les Saintes Marie de La Mer. On my birthday, a day I've often chosen to be alone, somewhere wild and natural. Away from the world that has been such a crucible. A world I have often felt alien in. A life that has lead me around the world, sharing tools and teachings of transformation. One where I feel connected to something that still echoes across the halls of time. The Way.

And so here I stood on this September day, my feet in the same waters on the same shore that the Mary's had arrived by boat almost 2000 years ago. Once again She had called me close.

I was traveling across France. Driving from Nice to Poitiers, with the last of my belongings. I was moving again. I have a 2 year rhythm with places. This time it had been a year and a half when I had felt the calling. It was time to pack up and follow it. I took 2 days to cross, so that I could enjoy the September sun and the deliciously warm Mediterranean sea. The sea had been the soothing and cleansing part of life on the Cote D'Azur. The tourists were gone, nothing but locals and a few others who loved the quieter September traveling like myself.

I had woken up in a little hotel and taken a look at the map to see where I could land for my birthday. What lake or river, what sauna or hammam could I find in a passing bed and breakfast off the beaten track. And then I saw it, right in the middle of my path.

Les Saintes Marie de La Mer. The One place I had yet to visit on the path of the Magdalene. I had been many times to Rennes-Les-Bains in the Pyrenees. A place infused with her presence. The lakes and paths had pilgrims from around the world who came to visit where it is believed she spent her last years in silent meditation. She wanted to be alone in silence those last years, alone but for the visitations of her beloved Christ who continued to teach her from his risen state.

I had been to Sainte Baume, the cave in the high mountains where she retreated to after a decade of Teaching and Healing the many people who came from far and wide to meet her. She taught with her brother Lazarus near Saintes Marie de La Mer bringing to this new land the good news of the Ascension, and the path to liberation through the Way. The persecution took time to come to the shores of France, but indeed it came and when it did, she found refuge in the mountains above, in the cave of Sainte Baume.

And now I stood here. On these shores where she had first arrived. A circle was complete. The waves of this sea had brought their boat, thrown to sea with its sails cut by those that hoped they would be swallowed by the waves. But instead, they had been carried by the winds of Grace to a far off shore that would greet them with open hearts and minds. The waves gently lapping my feet and the sound of the wind in my hair were carrying the memories of these women straight into my heart.

I faced the wind and let the graceful presence I felt lift my heart up to the sky. I felt a wave of love wash over me and cleanse my heart. I suddenly felt the veils of time dissolve and the longing that I held in my heart to stand here on this shore with them become real. From within my trance, I saw them arrive from afar, standing together with their robes floating in the wind, their smiles gleaming and their tears falling freely on their faces like my own.

I walked into the waters as I would have in seeing their arrival and found elation and ecstasy in coming forward to help them to shore. I could almost feel their hands in mine as we walked the last steps to solid ground. I felt the joy of their answered prayers in feeling their feet meet the sand and the holy blessing that this was after their arduous crossing. Finally, I could feel their full body embrace and warm sounds of joy against me as we wept in gratitude of their safe keeping in these times of trial and tribulation. Those of their Age, and those of Our Age. The Holy Faith of the Light of Christ Consciousness was swirling in a tangible presence that lead us all to our knees in adoration.

The Light of Truth is Within Each of us. The sacrifice of Illusion is the path of Resurrection that leads to Ascension. And the presence of Yeshuah as his ascended Christ Being, the embodiment of the Solar Logos was suddenly dancing around each one of us. Lifting us up in the Knowing embrace of the Light. We fell into a state of deep remembrance and ecstasy to Know this Truth in every living fibre of our beings. This luminous presence surrounded us as we sat together in the Holy Surrender that lit every last cell in our Consciousness with the Infinite Grace of Pure Love. Defying any last resistance we dissolved into the Knowing that surpasses all understanding.

Time dissolved. Separation dissolved. Suffering dissolved. Seeking dissolved. Nothing was left but the Light of Knowing that Love is All and Surrender is Freedom.

The Sun had set and the lapping waves gently kissed the shores with the last glow of light. As i opened my eyes I was again alone, sitting in the Grace of the moment, surrounded in the glow of this gift. All was quiet and gleaming, the waves scintillating as I returned to my timeline, to my body, to this shore.

A miracle.

Les Saintes Marie de La Mer