I was trying to ignore, via a head in the sand approach, what I consider should have been banned years ago like fox-hunting, i.e. that boxing event last weekend. It’s not easy though as so much of the Western world is shouting about it and someone – yes a man – told me how the best seats in the house cost more than $100,000… I didn’t react and just said ‘oh great!’ but I did ask where it was happening. Las Vegas, of course. And then I found a bigger sand dune for the head and snapped the mute on every time anything about it insisted on appearing on the TV news, etc…
By Vonnie Boston
But yesterday I was reading a book by ‘chance’ that I picked up at a Magnetic Healers conference two weeks back in New Zealand – ‘chance’ saw me happen in on that too…
But the author, Colin Lambert, a New Zealander, and renowned healer and teacher of Magnetic Healing, who it says, in the book, healed over 30,000 in his many, many years of devoted work and long life… ( he’s now in the next dimension) said in “The All That Is” (his last book published in 2005) exactly what I was thinking but frightened to pull my head out of the sand and mention for fear of totally losing it, especially here in New Zealand… so in the interests of covering my rear as well as my face!, I won’t say another word… He’s put it so much more eloquently anyway, and I just hope you’ll let him be heard once more, as this timing, a decade on, seems so fitting:
“Earlier in this Chapter (11 – What is Life) I referred to those from a far out galaxy who spoke to us many times through one of our entranced mediums. I had toyed with the idea of mentioning something which one of them made a very forceful comment on one evening then decided to let that one go… Then I picked up yesterday’s paper and a letter from a distressed mother stood out as if it was telling me to change my mind on that decision …
“The message our friend gave us that evening was short but to the point. We had been discussing the playing of sport on the planet from which he had travelled compared to what we call sport. ‘We do not play any contact sports on our planet. There is no way we would want to do something which may harm the body of one of our brothers. Why would we want to do that?’ Such was the impact of his statement that I immediately thought of the many times I have spoken about New Zealand’s favourite game. I note that some people actually still refer to it by the name of rugby, but after watching on Television so many times the results of players who have deliberately gouged out ones opposition players eye or having seen so many injured players being carried off the field, I have long since referred to it by its more appropriate name ‘Thugby’.
“The letter I refer to must surely tell you that I am justified in this name, so let us see what it has to say. ‘The rugby season is on us again, a time I dread, and have noted that talkback is again discussing the injuries suffered by our rugby boys and men. Our son is 13 years old. In the five years he has played rugby he has had two broken arms, a broken leg and last weekend got a very thick lip. He in turn has broken some other boy’s arm.’
“Do you follow me, or are you still in pre-school learning the very basics of life? My space friend would be horrified to read a letter such as that I am sure. But then I guess it all depends on just which rung of that seemingly endless rung of the ladder of evolvement you happen to be standing on as you make your way through yet another incarnation in the physical.
“Of course it is bad enough that these ‘thugby’ players finish in this predicament, but if you multiply that one boy by the hundreds of others who are suffering the same fate, then I hate to think just how much of yours and my taxes are being used to patch them up, not to mention the thousands of hours of work lost by adult players while they recuperate from their injuries. While this particular so-called sport may be bad, I find myself at a total loss to even begin to understand what is going on when my television suddenly shows two men, and would you believe on the odd occasion two women, deliberately hitting each other with their fists as hard as they can. I think they call this particular ‘sport’ boxing. My poor spaceman friend. He must be feeling sick in the stomach by now when he realizes that there is a planet on which its inhabitants are still at such a low level of development that they have hoards of people who pay big money to watch this taking place. Perhaps the worst part of all this is that the whole idea of it is for one of them to be able to achieve what I think they refer to as ‘knockout’ or something like that. Then that gives all those people sitting there a chance to stand up and cheer. It does not appear to matter whether the one now laying prone on the floor of the ring is ever capable of living a normal life again. His opponent has had a win and that would appear to be all that matters. The strange thing about all this to me is the fact that if these two men were to step out into the street and do this, they would very soon be arrested and probably find themselves looking through some bars. There would be no winner and no full purse for one of them.
“And yes, I do know something about this. Years ago I worked in a coal mine and one of the miners would quite often enter the mine without either the blasting powder he needed to work with or his lunch he needed to sustain himself with. The reason for this was very simple. He was an ex-boxer and was now what is commonly referred to as being punch drunk. In plain English of course, that simply meant his brain had been pulverized by the fist of another. I wonder how loudly the crowd cheered on that occasion. But most of all, I wonder how long it will take for the people of Planet Earth to realize that this is not the way we should be living with little or no respect for our fellow man.”
Brutality of any kind he attributes to “ignorance of your true ‘Soulself’ within.” But once that is understood so comes total acceptance of the fact that you cannot raise your hand against your brother without hurting yourself. “This truth,” he wrote, “ is all that is needed to change Planet Earth and its people into the land of love which I am sure it was meant to be.”
*****
* I don’t believe in chance anymore – but up to you.
Excerpt from The All That Is Copyright: July 2005 – Colin R. Lambert – Author and Publisher. Colin Lambert founded the Magnetic Healers Unlimited organisation and travelled to many countries both to heal and conduct workshops to teach healers to continue the work. Printed by Advance Print Tauranga New Zealand 2005.
Vonnie Boston, soul painter and author of The Pike Miners – their eternal essence –
bosvb@yahoo.com
