Dancing in the Light of Love

‘….3, 2, 1 …yes she’s under.’

A rapid pulling and a sensation of release as she felt her consciousness leave the broken body on the operating table. Detached from the drama  in the sterile and white Theatre, she was aware of floating and looking down on the scene unfolding, watching events as through a curtain of gauze. The urgency of the doctors gathered around the body, her body, barely clinging to life as the machines whirred into action. She wanted to shout out and tell them it was alright, she was free! The voice of authority cutting through the intensity of the scene, ‘She’s going into arrest, stand clear…’

An intense pulsing flash as the volts from the defibrillator surged through her body, and as her body convulsed she saw a tunnel of pure white light, so clear and bright, pure like the driven snow and the light began crystallising and refracting a myriad of rainbow colours. Her awareness left the emergency room and focussed on the intensity of the light, which began to envelope her. In the midst of the light the outline of a man began to materialise, his hand outstretched in welcome, calling her name. Ellis became aware of her hand, stretching out to meet his and her eyes connected with his deep cobalt blue stare and a feeling of joy as recognition of the man began sweeping over her. As their fingers touched there was a charge of electricity, little blue sparks of light, and then a tremendous noise like a  sonic rush and they were pulled out of the white light and travelling at huge velocity along a tunnel of oscillating multi coloured stars.

Then they were there, but there was nowhere

A realization of being without a solid human body, the man and she were numinous light bodies, floating, merging, at one with each other. A myriad of multi-faceted, swirling, vaporous colours all around. An incredible Lightness of Being and an understanding of being one’s true self at one’s highest octave, pure spirit. She felt a sense of being part of all that is, all that ever was, and all that would ever be, as her Consciousness expanded into infinite space.

The man was moving gracefully. Swirling her ecstatically, around and around in a beautiful waltz. Dancing in the Light of Love.There they were, just two spirits dancing in the light, living in the moment. She was part of him just as he was of her, and they were no longer separate entities, but one Being becoming the Light. The feelings were so sublime, almost unbearably beautiful. In the Light they became One in bliss. He looked deeply into her very soul and his thoughts resonated within her and she knew everything else was an illusion and this was the truth.

Then everything began closing in and she was aware of being pulled again, the light began fading and as she fought to stay in this blissful place the force pulling her grew stronger. Her heart ached to be torn away from Love. She was aware of a searing burning pain and she was back in the Emergency Room, and the strong authoritative voice echoed around the sterile room ‘Well done team, she’s back.’ Her eyes fluttered open momentarily and as the circle of people around her removed their green surgical masks, and she saw her husband’s cold sea green eyes boring into her, as Lucis stood silently mocking with his cruel smile.The surgeon’s strong voice filled the room ‘Your wife is lucky to be alive, your quick actions saved her life, you should be proud Dr Ferre.’

Ellis was so cold and all she could feel was the pain and loss of having touched heaven, only to be cast back down into hell again. As her psyche was shot with sadness and horror, in that space where clairvoyant images play, she saw a man appear, framed in an archway, he was all golden and light, dressed in a hooded monks robe, a strong masculine face and the deepest cobalt blue eyes. It was he! In the recesses of her mind his voice soothed ‘It is not time yet , there is work to be done. I am with you, guiding you and will not leave you. I shall bring you to me in Glastonbury and there, in the magic of Wychwood, you will be healed and made whole’.

Ellis slept.

© Eily Nash 2012

✭Available on Amazon at a special price for Kindle download✭

✭Available on Amazon at a special price for Kindle download✭

✭Available on Amazon at a special price for Kindle download✭

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Grannie…Do Something!!!


…She had just served me up my Mimosa, nicely chilled, with a plate of yummy brie and cranberry bruschetta, when the phone rang. I overheard Grannie telling Grumpy GrandPa some utter tosh that she was ‘inscrutable’ and that mystery and imagination added to romance….Eww…I nearly choked on my Mimosa. Romance??? Grotty Grannie??? G.G.P??? Er…No!!!

Intrigued, I put my ear to the door and  listened to their hands free conversation some more. Seems they were having a transatlantic telephonic communication as Grannie refused to Skype. Seems he wanted to know just what she was hiding from him and just why she did not want to take a peek at how lush and lovely his Lobelia was looking, delicate and dainty, spread all over the garden back home in England’s green and pleasant land.

Hmm… it was all too confusing. What was Grannie hiding? Just who was this Lobelia? Why was she laying on our lawn…had she, like Grannie, quaffed one or ten Gordon & tonics too many? And just why would G.G.P want to introduce his drunken floozy to Grannie???

These questions needed answered. So once he had finished chatting to Grannie and purely on the pretext of showing my GrandPa the view of Central Park from our 53rd Floor Manhattan Penthouse I grabbed my iPad and face-timed him.

‘Angel, what’s all this utter tosh and rot about Grannie being  mysteriously inscrutable?’ he demanded most demandingly.

‘Dunno, G.G.P,’ says me helpfully, zooming the iPad’s camera full on to Grannie, mush coated in a mud pack and sitting picking her toe nails. After all her manky picture painted a thousand words far more eloquently than Moi, even with my superior literary skills,  could have done…

‘Gumpfffphhh!’ was all G.G.P managed to say before splattering his tea all over his iPhone screen, at that point I only had sound and no picture from him. I was worried and screamed for  Grannie…

‘O’er…Grannie, Grannie!!! please come quick it’s an emergency!!! G.G.P is suffering from revulsion and is like chokin’ and his girl friend is flat on her face, drunk as a skunk in our garden, and is totally incapacitated and incapable of calling an ambulance…Grannie…Do Something!!!’




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Telling Tails


Author Angel Nash worn to the Paws watching Grannie hard at work!

Hello my Lovelies!

I am visiting Grannie’s blog from my Manhattan Penthouse and putting my well manicured paws to good use and blogging for her, whilst she is otherwise engaged and not watching what I am up to.  I am more than miffed she has been selfishly blogging about her books and  not my books, can you believe her cheek!!!

‘Where is Grannie? What is she doing? Shame on her! What on earth could be more important than looking after you, Angel?’ You may solicitously enquire, and I shall tell you, my Lovelies.

But, Shh…it is a secret!

Grannie is busy with a matter of the  most mega urgency and import. Can you hear her click clacking away on her battered old typewriter?  I have banned her from blogging and anything else (like sleeping and eating) that does not involve her catering to my little “want, need, nows!” until she finishes the manuscript for my third book- ANGEL CAKE -Look out for the big reveal!!! 

I am soooo excited about my latest book, just as much as when my paws were on creative fire and I penned my very first  Magnum Opus and introduced myself to an unsuspecting world in:-

 “Telling Tails” 

Beautiliious Westie Angel Nash has aspirations of the good life. When Grannie upsets the little Diva dog she takes matters into her own paws and becomes the first canine like ever to become a real, published author! All Angel’s shenanigans are revealed as she candidly shares how she went walkies from a quiet village in England’s Green and Pleasant Lands all the way across a very big pond to N.Y.C.

Angel’s “Shh…Secret Sharing Sessions” are a riotous romp of Mischief, Mayhem, Moan-fests and Musing on hugely important matters, namely Herself!



Why Helloooo My Lovelies,Beautilicious Westie Angel Nash in the house, with doggilicious tales to tell. A rollercoaster of fun and frolics, chaos and canines. So jump on board and enjoy the ride. It's choc full of my top Secret Sharing Sessions about my crazy capers with Grottie Grannie, my True Love Hamish and B.F stealing Frenemy, Kimbles the Bichon Frise! All the gossip direct from modest Moi, 'The Paws'...Shhh...don't tell!© Eily Nash

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The Witching Hour…

Torn From The Heart

Torn from the HeartCruel heartbreaker, Adam takes no prisoners in ‘Affaires de Coeur’. Fate takes a hand in his bad boy ways one dark, stormy night when Adam finds himself at the mercy of a vicious storm. Lost and afraid on a treacherous Moor, crying out for help, in the middle of nowhere, will anyone hear his pitiful plea? Chancing upon mysterious ‘Half Moon Inn’ and beguiling inn-keeper Evelyn Blackmore, could his prayers have been heard? The raven-eyed beauty offers more than sanctuary. Through the hours of darkness, Adam’s fey companion spins fireside tales of love, loss, rejection, and redemption. Gradually he realises the ethereal Evelyn knows him all too well as she rips her preternatural tales from the recesses of his black heart. Evelyn weaves the unravelled threads of his deepest secrets onto the loom of his life, as Adam secretly plots scenes of soft seduction. Will Evelyn fall prey to her guest’s dark charms and be enticed into his web of deceit? Unbeknownst to him, the enigmatic beauty also has secrets and as the Witching hour fast approaches, so do uninvited and hungry ghosts of the past.

With more than a touch of magic in the air the Hunter just might find he has become the hunted…

Available as Kindle ebook and paperback 


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Requiem for a Lost Lover


“Come to me and be my wife, I will love you all my life! My love is pure, my love is true, all I have, I share with you. Come Beloved, bide with me, in perfect trust and harmony!”

 He once whispered those words of love to me. Our vows were sacred for all eternity. Alas, promises my beloved could not keep. Oh how my wounded heart did bleed and weep. You may well ask why did I not have eyes to see through his lies and mendacity? What was my crime or my sin? Why did He let the Stranger in? His words were callous, cruel and cold. It was not my fault jealousy took hold!

“I Loved you once, that much is true, until her beauty stole my heart from you. She is comely, my lover is fair, with eyes of blue and flaxen hair. Whilst you grew ragged, grey and old. ‘Tis your fault my Love grew cold!”

My tears they fell like bitter rain. Illusions shattered, piercing pain. In the winter of my heart, I vowed from her he would part. I grabbed a knife and plunged it deep, his life blood ebbed to eternal sleep. So now beneath the pure white snow, in the rich dark Earth deep below, lay two silver caskets filled with bones. By our silent grave, my ghost atones. Encased in ice, two hearts entwine. In Death’s embrace my Love is once more mine. In Death’s embrace my Love is forever mine. By my side eternally lays his head, even though he is long cold and dead.


snow heart

© Eily Nash

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Portobello Princess ♥

♥ ☆ ♥ For you Princess ♥ ☆ ♥All my Love Mummy ♥ ☆ ♥












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All is One ♥


There once was a young peasant girl, known by the name Gaia, she lived in an ancient land, a land that was fertile and abundant in all good things. There were olive groves and fruit trees. There were honey bees and goats and cows that provided delicious milk and cheese. The skies above were azure blue and the seas around were warm and abundant with rainbow fish. The air was sweet with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. The birds filled the air with sweet birdsong. Life was good in this land of milk and honey, for everything one needed was there. Gaia lived with a large community of people and laughter and song and dance was the way of life. For they knew life was good and they knew that they were beloved and taken care off, although they knew not by who or what. This security engendered much peace and happiness, and they lived in gratitude. Their Land was an abundant Mother and the skies above their protecting Father. And as Night followed day, and season followed season, the people of this land gave praise for the bounty that was their gift from the Earth.

They honored their Mother Earth for all she nourished them with, her fertile soil in which many crops and flowers and herbs and trees thrived. Her flowing rivers and the sea around, providing an abundance of fresh fish and water to drink. And the jewels of the earth, beautiful crystals fashioned in colours of the rainbow. Their father provided his children with the radiant warmth of the sun, to bring life to that which was upon the earth. He gave them the cool evening breeze and the light of the moon, from which the people marked the passage of time, through the cycles of the moon. As night fell, the skies above were clothed in a brilliant show of stars and planets, and constellations around which they wove stories to inflame their minds and provide excitement. Every now and then, a magical light dance would happen in the sky, a multi coloured display of fantastic and beautiful majesty. Shooting stars and asteroids tore across the heavenly canvas bringing wonder and awe. Life was indeed good. This island, although small, was clothed and blessed in the majesty of nature, and profuse in all that was good in creation. The peoples were tolerant of travellers who chanced their way. They provided hospitality and warm welcomes. They enjoyed hearing about faraway places, of different lands, cultures and religions. They did not feel threatened if the visitors did not have the same belief systems, knowing in their hearts that all was one and that there were many roads and paths to reach Divinity. It was an intangible thing that each and every heart had to feel for their selves. In this place there was no bigotry or intolerance.

One day, Gaia was out gathering herbs, for these were the medicine cabinet of the people, as Mother Earth (after whom she took her name) supported all life, she healed her children when called upon. The herbs rejoiced the child had chosen them, for they knew their path was to grow to heal, and they understood that all was one and that the child also knew that all was one.

A beautiful butterfly caught the girl’s eye and with delight she followed after the delicate creature, marveling at Gossamer wings as blue as the sky above. The girl felt good to be alive and part of all the wonders of nature around her, for although yet a child; she understood the interconnectedness of all things, that simply all was one. Gaia focused on the butterfly’s game of chase, and the creature delighted in this lovely child joining the game. The butterfly knew the child understood that all was one. In time this child would undertake the journey of initiation, such as she the butterfly had done, into the cocoon and transmuting into a thing of great beauty.

Gaia was unaware of the storm clouds gathering, very unusual in this land. Then suddenly there was a downpour of rain. Looking around for shelter she saw ahead the entrance to a cave formed in a rocky hillside. Gratefully she ran into the cave, blessing her good fortune to find shelter from the ensuing storm. The cave was dark and smelt dank. A rough path was hewn from the bedrock, and from deep inside she heard a strange resonance, a toning of sorts. Intrigued she followed the source of the noise, as she moved deeper into the cave the darkness enfolded her. Trustingly, she followed the direction of the strange toning and chanting of unknown arcane words.

The darkness shifted to an eerie gloom, and Gaia saw the passage had widened into a cavern with a sandy floor. She heard the faint sound of running water. Above the cavern there was a light source, a hole in the roof of the cavern. From behind a large boulder a voice crackled;-

‘Who are you, what do you seek?’

The voice belonged to a tiny, misshapen form. A woman clothed in dirty ragged garments. They had the vestiges of a once beautiful blue material, patterned with stars about them. Even in the gloom the girl marvelled at the fragments of beautiful cloth. The woman’s hair was grey and bound tight to her head in thin plaits, and her eyes were small and black as shriveled raisins. With sly interest she regarded the girl before her, dressed in a simple tunic of beautiful linen, her hair long and golden and flowing, her eyes a deep cornflower blue, alive and dancing with curiosity.

‘I have lost my way, and have taken shelter from the rain outside’ said Gaia. ‘They call me Gaia in honor of the Great Mother, the Earth,’ the child smiled happily.

‘Pah.’ Came back the rude, curt response from the wizened old crone..

‘What should I call you?’ enquired Gaia politely.

‘I am Alizza the Watcher, but you may not address me so. You have not the knowledge or status to speak the name of one as elevated and spiritually advanced as I!’

‘May I sit with you a while, and listening to your teaching, Mother? The child asked unperturbed by Alizza’s hubris.

‘You would know of my wisdom? I am happy to tell you child the ways of the world. Come sit by my side at the fire and pay heed.’ She rasped with a degree of satisfaction.

There was a fire pit set within a circle of small rocks, and from it the flames danced and swayed as a slight breeze played around them. Gaia stared intently at the fire, enjoying the pictures in the flames, and the sight of the Salamanders,those elementals charged with guarding the element of fire, and they in return regarded the child and knew she was one who understood them, and all things and that all was one.

The ugly Crone was impatient to begin her teaching and coughed harshly. In a voice that was deeply meaningful in tone, she began.

‘These, child, are words of wisdom given to me by Masters, and only those who are as spiritually advanced as I am can access the Wisdom of the Masters. For I am a Watcher, and follow the Path of the Star. Heed ye well!’ She jabbed a bony finger with a cracked and dirty nail at the girl, for emphasis.

The child smiled, continuing to watch the magical show the salamanders were putting on for her delight.

‘The purpose of creation, child, is to leave this place and ascend upwards to the Star. I, who have followed my spiritual path so diligently, by toning my tones and chanting my chants, will soon be able to leave.’ she said piously.

‘Do you not marvel at how advanced am I to be able to do such a thing? Do you not aspire to be as pure in spirit as me?’ she questioned.

‘Hmm’ mused the child ‘Are you alone here?’

‘Alone? What, with my incredible spirituality? I do not need mere mortals in my holy Presence. I need to remain unblemished and untouched from their germs. That is why I wait in the cave till I can leave heavenwards. I know I will not return here for I am just so advanced. The Star needs me with its celestial magnificence to watch over the minions below.’

‘Do you never see other people?’ enquired Gaia.

‘Ah, No’, said the wizened old Crone. ‘Once there were some who came to seek my teaching. I saw they were lesser creatures and just did not and could not understand. So I realised to keep myself pure in spirit I had to retreat deeper and deeper into this cave, where they could not taint me with their base natures.’

‘I would love to hear your wisdom,’ said the child.

She was a child who loved to experience all things and learn the different ways of people, understanding there were many different types of person and they each could choose different paths to travel up the mountain to touch Father Sky. And again the child understood that in all this diversity, ultimately all was one, for each in their own way would eventually touch Father Sky, whatever path they had chosen to walk.

The ugly Crone continued…

‘The path of the Star showed me that by prayer and devotion I can leave this place and be one with the Light.’

‘Where does the Star reside?’

‘Why up there’ the Crone pointed to the hole in the roof of the cave.

‘What does the Star look like?’

‘Like this’ and she pointed to a fragment of starry material.

‘Can anyone see the Star?’

‘Oh, No, Only one who is willing to follow the path of religious observance. A Practitioner such as I, versed in knowledge of The path of the Star.’

By now, the storm outside had passed, and night had fallen. Everything was quiet and still. The ugly Crone bid the curious, chattering child be silent.

‘It is time for devotion; my star is calling to me. You may observe, but be quiet as I, an illumined one, will commune with the Holiest Highest Star.’

The child looked on, wondering what marvels the Crone would commune with. Alizza went and sat on a boulder under the hole in the roof, a thin taper in her knotty hand. She looked up and began the low chanting and toning noise again. Slowly a picture of rapture appeared over her ancient face, as her gaze went towards the hole in the cave roof. Intrigued, Gaia too looked up, and was perplexed to see a tiny star, which she recognised as Antares, a bright star that guides one to see the constellation Scorpio. Gaia knew the night sky well, for oft times she had slept under that heavenly canopy, watching the majesty of the waxing and waning moon, and the beauty of the constellations and the stories they told. She knew the magic of seeing shooting stars and comets blazing their trails across the universe.

Yes, there were so many wonders in creation, and once again Gaia smiled understanding that One was All and All was One; and that the magic of the sky was a magic that was in her and everything else as well. So it was with interest she regarded the Crone, lost in her rapture at the sight of Antares above the cathedral like structure of the cave’s roof.

Eventually sleep fell upon Gaia and she curled close to the fire and slept deeply. The child was content, dreaming of the many layers of creation and existence, dreaming of universes held within atoms and universes so large her mind could not hold the thoughts. A raindrop on her nose startled her to wakefulness. The Crone was bustling around making a brew from hot water and some lichen she had scraped from the walls of the cave. The insipid brew bubbled in an earthenware pot, placed precariously on some burning twigs. She invited the child near.

‘You looked so happy watching Antares’ offered Gaia to the busy old woman.

The Crone looked puzzled by the question. She clearly had no idea what, where or who ‘Antares’ was.

‘Child, I was in Rapture communing directly with the Star of the sky. I have sat in my cave for decades meditating on the nature of divinity, and I am truly blessed to have seen this wondrous sight. I know that because of my advanced spiritual understanding one day soon I will ascend and join Star! Pay heed to my teaching child; ask what questions you need to further your own limited understanding. Who knows, maybe one day you too will understand the advanced teaching of the Star!’

This time it was Gaia’s turn to look puzzled…

Tentatively she asked, ‘Mother Crone, why do you work so hard to reach Star, for is not Star in you and you in Star, for Mother Crone is not one all?’ she continued with enthusiasm and passion, ‘Does it not feel oh so good to travel on the wind as it blows through life? To feel the whisper of the gentle breeze that cools the skin? Or a raging, howling hurricane that sweeps away that which no longer serves? Knowing the wind is the Divine’.

Smiling happily Gaia chattered on excited to be sharing ‘…and the joys of letting your spirit become one with the Condor. Soaring heavenwards and riding upon the wind, majestic and powerful, magnificent wings outstretched and all at one with the wind, on our journey across the vastness of the sky.’ The  child continued to share the excitement of her experiences. ‘To fall as a drop of rain, blown by the wind into the fast flowing river and feel what it is like to flow over the smooth rocks; and be tickled by the bulrushes, to move as one towards the vast ocean and just know that every raindrop is part of the vastness of the mighty ocean….’Smiling happily, the child continued,‘….and Mother Crone, that which brings me the most joy is when I become one with the beautiful trees and feel myself strong and solid upon the Earth. I love the feeling of my roots burrowing deep into the rich warm soil. I love the feeling of the goodness within the Earth sustaining me, feeding me. My branches reach towards the heavens, and I sustain life, for the birds and insects to come to find shelter above me and below me; as they eat the food I give from my berries. And my leaves glisten in the warmth of the sun, and cool to the stars above. Oh, to be a tree is truly magical Mother for then one is completely one with Mother Earth and Father Sky!’

Gaia’s eyes shone with happiness as she relived her shamanic journeys, she did not see the disgust and distaste on the old woman’s wizened face…The acrid smell of the Crones infusion filled the cave. Helpfully, Gaia reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out the little bunch of sweet smelling herbs she had gathered. Gently she added them to the pot and said a little blessing. The bitter smell was soon replaced by the pure and healing scents the herbs released.

‘Oh, that is so good Mother Crone; will you drink from our brew?’ Gaia tenderly asked.

She saw the Cones eyes were weepy, and her body was stiff and rigid from rheumatism. Gaia knew the herbs would help and heal. Nature’s apothecary had a cure for every ailment. One just needed to go to the trees, the flowers, herbs and crystals for their assistance.

With a howl, the Crone arose and with her temper boiling over, she kicked the earthenware pot hard. The hot contents spilled over and splashed onto the skinny legs of the incandescent Crone. Her ugly face contorted in rage as she screamed at Gaia:-

‘What witchery! What wicked sorcery! What foul blasphemy! You dark thing, you dare come into my world and speak such nonsense! Be gone bad thing! Thou have no knowledge! How could I, an illumined one, teach you whose head is so full of nonsense….all is not one foolish child, the star is all there is…now go!’

In absolute shock, and with tears streaming down her face, the child turned and ran through the darkness of the cave. She barely knew how she reached the outside. She sat with her arms wrapped protectively around herself, sobbing at the Crones cruelty. Could she have got it so wrong, after all she knew she was a child with so much to learn. But those people, who were her own, understood; wracked with longing for home she began to weep again.

Slowly, she became aware of a presence, and a warm feeling enfolded her. Raising her tear stained face. Gaia realised the Sun was shining brightly and the rain had bathed the world with cleansing water and everything looked so fresh and new. A multi-coloured rainbow arched across the azure sky. The birds were singing their sweet songs and the insects were busy humming and the honey bees buzzing and so much life was all about. A little white feather fell from the clear blue sky into Gaia’s hand, and above she saw a white dove in flight. Smiling, Gaia rose and turned for home for the child just knew all was one….

Later that night, deep in the cave, as the Crone settled down for her devotion to the Star, she was amazed to see a bright light streak past the narrow opening in the cave roof and as the comet passed by she heard the child’s wise words as they echoed in her empty heart and cave…

© Eily Nash ~ from ‘Torn from the Heart’

Posted in AUTHOR, GOD, SOUL, SPIRIT, SPIRITUALITY | Tagged , , , , , , , | 11 Comments