Paired up, as if by Bluetooth tech magic, my headphones have automatically shuffled to bo-select ‘Wolves’ by Phosphorescent. I am tuning in, peering out the misty car windscreen, into the dark night of Southwick Rec, where nearby the boy is living the football dream under the towering floodlit pitch. In the far distance the glowing red lights of Shoreham power station beams out in the black sky, as a half-empty lit-up night train powers its journey along the coast.
I am transfixed by the full ‘Wolf’ moon, which is hanging like a glowing white coin against a clear starry night sky, timeless in its wonder. I observe an urban fox dart out from the bushes – the closest genetic relative to wolves we have in these neighbourhood parts. Magic is brewing in the air, I feel deeply, as a pack of howling and wiry teenage drinkers bowl past the car park in hoodies and trackies.
I have a trippy flashback, floating on the moody mystical night breeze, back to the scene of a burning memory from 24th April 2020, from the first government lockdown of the rampaging Virus.
The day forever imprinted on the signature DNA of my soul…
Sitting there – drugged-up, cynical of heart, and weary of dodging life’s pitfalls – in a black rusty deckchair on the sunny garden patio, I chanced upon a video link forwarded from the Finnish angel, my long-suffering therapist. Clicking on the internet link, I tuned into my first energy broadcast from a kindly, bald man called Lee Harris.
There was no full ‘Wolf’ moon on the night of the broadcast, but after a wired sleepless all-nighter, I sensed something in my soul had been activated by the broadcast.
Something was stirring, transformative awakening body tremors, shifting the dark malevolent clouds that had hung over and cursed me for the long thirteen years since my spell in the Institutions.
So, I began putting pen to paper, for the first time in those thirteen years – a trickle, a stream, then a flowing river running through my mind – as I began manifesting the story of my recovery journey in a book titled The Soul Asylums. A tome that before that fateful day had a snowball in Hell’s chance of seeing the light of day.
And so, with a chilled breath of anticipation, under the waxing illumination of the ‘Wolf’ moon – as two-barrel shaped women lead tiny dogs with flashing neon collars through the top of the Rec – I wonder how tonight’s energy broadcast from Lee Harris is going to impact on my life’s path.
Would it be the soul shake-up and blooming rose garden of the mind it was all those months ago since my eye-opening reveal under the Lockdown sun? Or something more spectacular? Wolf moon magic even!
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