Magic

Note from the Author:

I want to let you know that this is an unusual story, and it has been written purely from whatever is in my unconscious mind, because before I start writing, I get into a flow state that reaches my unconsciousness. I also write in my subconscious mind, which is like a mid-flow state between the conscious and unconscious mind.

So, what do I write when I am in this flow state? I am calling it fiction, but you can think whatever you want of it because some would say it may have come from a divine source. I am not going to go into this topic right now, but watch out for another article about it in the near future.

Now, I want to tell you, this is an experiment purely for myself. The unconscious mind will be talked about in this story. Some say we have two minds: the conscious mind, where negative thoughts come from, and our own thoughts and our present day. The second mind, the unconscious, is connected to either the Divine/the Universe/God/Spirit Guides/Angels/Spirits, for example, loved ones who have passed on. Whatever you believe. Now, you might be wondering why I have mentioned this. It is because I have read a book about it, or rather, I have read a few that all said the same thing. Now, if you want to know more before reading this story, or while you are reading this story, then read this article here: Conscious, Subconscious and Unconscious - understanding the different layers of your mind - or read one of these books written by one of these authors: Genevieve Davis, Eckhart Tolle, Bob Proctor, Byron Katie, Wayne Dyer. Read now or after you read the prologue for Magic (below). I hope you enjoy it.

Magic - The Prologue

Clara's fingers move along the keyboard. She types, but only her unconscious mind is doing the work. She stares at the page. Her eyes are transfixed on the screen, as she willingly absorbs the words that flow into her mind from me. The letters move into words as her fingers move on the keyboard. I feel myself being pulled in as her fingers move diligently. She types as fast as her bony, slim fingers can move, but she is unaware of me. She is unaware of what is happening. I know she can hear my words, but she doesn't know where they're coming from unless someone were to tell her. I know she doesn't feel me fishing around, which is why she has willingly let me give her the words that she types on the screen now. You see, she thinks the words she is typing are her own thoughts. No. They're mine.

Clara knows she is typing, but she believes she has zoned out while typing her thoughts. So, she types faster. I can hear her thinking inside of me. She wants to know why she is writing such a thing, but she doesn't stop; she carries on. You see, it's not like her to think things in this way because she doesn't consider herself spiritual. She doesn't believe in anything spiritual, so it would be hard for me to get her attention.

As her fingers move faster, she types the words that I am telling her. It is my story, about me. The story of who I am is rather shocking. Clara, at this precise moment, stops typing and sits up straight. She appears to be thinking with her hands in her lap, as if she is going to stop for a break, but I know she's in shock because of what she believes she is thinking, which she doesn't really understand, and why she is going to write about it. I wonder if she believes she has discovered something outrageous.

No! No! I shout into her mind. Keep going! You must keep going because I need to get the story out of me and into Clara. It is the one thing I can do at ease, and I need this story to be told. I want Clara to get it published eventually because I believe everyone will want a mind like Clara's, once they read her book.

So, the story goes on... Clara starts to type again, but this time she writes like she is me. She flows into my state of thinking, and that's good.

Clara types the following words willingly. She doesn't stop. She keeps going until I stop talking to her. This is my voice within her:

Prologue:

I am a woman and a guide who resides in Heaven. My name is Liza. I am channelling through Clara. I was a female writer once on Earth, but didn't get my work published. Now, the stories Clara has had published in books worldwide under the name Clara Bernstein are originally mine. You could say I am a ghost writer. Wow, that's a good one.

Clara typed all of my stories into her computer, but I sent her the words to her mind, and she typed them without a thought. Of course, I didn't consider what she would do with them, and now I am worried she will not let the world know that I exist.

She is the one who gets to earn from it, not me. She is the one who enjoys the success, not me. Am I jealous, someone asks me? Of course not, because she is me, in a way. But this is not quite true. You see, I am with her all of the time. I am the one who helps her with the writing and other things. The other things are secret, but I will reveal them in time. You can call me a guide. I work alongside Clara like her guide and assistant in a way. You could think of me as an Angel. I was once a human being, but that was when I was a person in a body on Earth. Now, I call myself Liza, which is my real name. I don't have a surname like we do on Earth.

Someone asks me if Clara has told anyone the secret, and the answer is 'no'. Why would she tell anyone? She can't.

Let me explain. You see, her conscious mind doesn't even realize there is a secret yet because the unconscious mind is holding onto it tightly. So, only her unconscious mind knows about it. She couldn't tell anyone, even if she tried. This means I send her information to her unconscious mind, which she doesn't realize exists, but she will do soon because I am making her write about it now. So, soon, when she reads her work over, she will start to wonder why she is writing in this way. Then she will know that this isn't some clever thought-up fiction that she created.

Or is it? She might add, because her conscious mind will always try to get her to deny those kinds of things.

Perhaps, one day, someone will ask her how she did it, but at present, that will not happen until I say it does. You see, whatever I put into her unconscious mind will happen. So, for now, she continues doing the things I encourage her to do, like writing, enjoying her desires like travelling, art, playing the violin, dancing, and walking through the hilly fields near her home, and her life with her husband. It has all been a great achievement for her with my help. I have loved every minute of helping her. Now, I have decided that she must write my story, so all of what I am saying now is being fed to her unconscious.

I wish I had asked someone to do this for me when I was alive on Earth, but I had never heard anyone talk to me. Well, that's not entirely true. I had heard odd things like thoughts in my mind, but I never wrote them down. I just ignored them, which I shouldn't have. I had never read a book on it either, or discovered anything about it. Of course, it existed. It has always existed. I know that now because of where I am. But Clara doesn't know all of it yet, and I intend to keep that part to myself until she is ready. For now, I will write my story, and she will think, and say it is fiction (this is part of the fictional story too, which is what she will say).

My life before had been fun as a writer, but I had never gotten help like Clara had, or at least no one had told me they had given me words to write my books back then. No one here in Heaven, that is.

So, here we go into Chapter One.

To be continued...