Book 'The Firegoddess' Author: Roelien de Lange

The cover of this book is an artwork of the Hawaiian Firegoddess named 'Pele' (see original artwork above, created by the author).
'Pele Honua Mea' (Goddess of the Sacred Earth and the Fire of Hawaii), is a source of inspiration for her. It is a mirror for her own fire-energy, sexuality and life-energy.
The book is an exciting travel-story but gives a deep healing energy as well. The author wrote the book with her eyes mostly closed, speaking in a light trance-state, while others typed her words. In this state of consciousness, dolphins, trees and other sensitive-beings seemed to help her writing the book. The reader will participate on a intuitive journey through the exercises and the messages from the nature-kingdom. Next to the beautiful nature-experiences, a healing takes place of
some disturbing events in the authors past. This old pain is harmonized through shamanic experiences, working with dreams and nature. It is a healing process that touches the energy of the earth-mother and the feminine in every reader. The insights in past life-experiences, her family-constellation and the war-traumas of her father, brought an intensive process of empowerment as well. After a long quest, the inner work as described in the book (see cover below), brought her the perfect partner for life.

Excerpt from the book (page 30):

At last the moment has come, dolphins are nearby, and I try to climb down the small metal steps with my flippers on. It doesn’t work. My legs are twisted and I almost disappear under the boat, steps and all. “Just let go”. Let your snorkel fill up and learn to relax with the goggles well-adjusted so that you can breathe underwater.
Here I am, swimming in the middle of the ocean far from the coast.
 

cover of the book "The Firegoddess"

The water under me slowly disappears in ever deeper blue shades and becomes quite dark a long way beneath. For a moment I feel panicky, but then I forget everything. In the sunlight that colours the water a lovely turquoise I see the large grey-blue bodies of dolphins rushing past. They swim a few meters under me, a lustrous mother-of-pearl shade shimmering in the rays of the sun. At ten meters depth, they seem surrounded by mysterious blue, and deeper down their silverblue bodies pass in a purple mist. I can just make them out against the deep violet of the oceandeep.
To my astonishment I hear incredible singing in my head. It sounds like the ringing of sonorous Tibetan bowls, like the alluring song of mermaids. The stories of sailors wanting to jump overboard come alive. The sound is all around me and yet is comes from the dolphins. I feel it strongly when, once again, a group of these magical beings are swimming underneath. Clear and close, their undulating timbre resonates through me as music. I am not using my human ears so much as I receive it with my entire yearning being. The experience is engraved as long as I live. The experience takes me into another realm all together. It may bring me in the dolphin world later on, at any time.
For a brief moment I feel myself lifted up into the high reverberation, and cease to exist. My consciousness moves in a universe of pure space and light. Love resonates as the song of ultimate bondage sings in my heart. I wave through the water harmoniously at dolphin speed. The groups swim in total synchronicity, undulating through a blue universe.

Suddenly it stops. My goggles are leaking and fill rapidly with seawater. I try to breathe, and choke. Coughing and sneezing I emerge. The brilliant sun hurts my eyes. Expelled from paradise, my tears mingle with the sea. Treading water I try to fix the goggles. My hair is caught in the elastic band. Only by using two hands I manage to pull it tight. Meanwhile my eyes hurt, my throat is full of salt, and when I look down there are only the blue-grey depths beneath. Then the sun disappears behind the clouds and all of a sudden everything gets grey and dangerous. An old fear from childhood crops up.

As a three-year old we used to live on a large estate that belonged to a lady-dowager. In the huge garden there was a big, dark pond. My mum was always anxious that I’d drown one day, and kept on telling me not to go there as a terrible monster lurked deep down. I’d almost forgotten about it, but now it all came back.

Frightened I look into the dark and deep water. There may be sharks down there, or manta rays. This morning I saw them in the pictures hanging in the boating office. Hastily I try to reach the boat which has drifted off considerably. The waves are swept high by the wind and I’m getting very tired. Only just in time do I make it to the boat. As I’m hanging onto the rope, awaiting my turn to climb on board, I resolve to work on the old fear.
Fortunately I start to feel more centred after asking my spirithelpers to come to my aid. Only now I notice that you have to remove your flippers underwater. They seem to stick to your feet as if they are fixed with a strong glue. You have to hold on to the rope with one hand and take off the fin with the other without dropping it. While handing it to the boatsman you try to wriggle out of the other one. At the same time your shoulders are practically wrenched out of their sockets because the boat is swaying intensely. One moment the skippers blonde moustache looms up very close, whereas the next moment you see his hairy legs and take an unexpected peep-show inside his shorts .

At last I gratefully climb up the steps, realising how easily my body could have become dislocated. Everybody is impressed with the dolphins. Some hug each other, others just stare in the distance. There is a general feeling of mild exhaustion. A large box containing Pepsi Cola and chocolate bars is opened. Health food is unheard of. Luckily there is some mineral water. Mia an I exchange thoughts. She has had more diving experience than I have, off the coast in Tenerife. I appears that she, too is pissed off with the loud Americans pushing for their turn. Later on I learn that Mia’s Belgian education was pretty strict which made it more difficult for her to handle the situation. As for me, I just managed to throw in the odd bit of humour. I feel sorry for her, after all it’s all a bit much after what we had been led to expect. However, at the same time I can still feel the underwater concert in my head, singing and reverberating. Carefully I ask the others, but no one seems to have heard it.

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