When I was born into this world, this time round, it was into a world full of loud explosions, strange vibrations and great flashes of light of many colours. My first year was the first year of World War II so from the first breath and initial blinding light of birth into the light of the sun, to the various soft yellow and bright white beams from candles, torches, Tilley and paraffin lamps and electric lights that were shone in my face to see whom I resembled I was finally allowed to get some sleep.

But like most, in every waking moment I was like a sponge soaking up every photon of light that came my way. Something else tantalised my waking, growing senses besides light and sight and that was the sense of smell. A very old man who lived up in a secret room in the roof made strange grating noises and what sounded like mild explosions to my young ears. Odd smells drifted down the steep steps, but I was forbidden to climb and when I peered up the turning stair I could just make out another flickering photon or two of blue and yellow light. I wondered what it could all mean!

Later, downstairs, I was told to stay indoors and not to open the front door. Intrigued I pushed the blackout curtain aside and peeped through the heavy venetian blinds and waited. All of a sudden there was a screech as a big black van stopped outside and shortly after a loud crash or two as heavy stuff was unloaded onto the pavement in front of the house.

I was called away from the window and told to play on the floor but then a weird, flashing, brighter than bright blue light shone through the blinds that went out with a loud pop every now and then but came back on again with a roar and my curiosity got the better of me.

As I peered between the slats I saw a strange dark blue form like a man with a black head and huge round black eyes illuminated by the roaring blue light, with tubes that ran all over the place, and caused the railings in front of the house to glow red, no, almost white hot and finally the iron railings crashed to the ground, and the eyes were left glowing bright orange. Little did I know that twenty years later I would be the one behind the black reflective eyes creating all the colours, pops and roars of my own, fashioning things in bright shiny metals like silver steel and golden brass.

But as I grew I was finally allowed up to the secret room in the roof where I found treasure! At least it was to me and all those strange sounds, lights and smells were revealed. It was a carpenter’s workshop in the attic, but not just any carpenter, a piano cabinet maker and the smells of sawdust and pipe tobacco and the blue and yellow flickering light was the gas ring under the scotch glue pot that had its own distinct aroma. This was the start of my passion for wood, for trees and for nature. Oh and a sometime hobby of renovating antiques!

In those days of course open fires were the thing, with no central heating, and the old black range in the kitchen, which was the hub of the house, that burnt coal that was kept in a dark hole under the stairs. It filled the house with smoke and what we called ‘smeeches’ when it was first lit in the morning. Little black particles of soot that floated in the air until a piece of newspaper stuffed through a vent hole in the flue, was set light to and caused a draft to take the smoke away up the chimney. But for all its draw-backs, or perhaps draw-ups it was the place to be in the winter in front of that cherry red grating, like a cocky watchman’s brazier!

I was a very visual person from the beginning and light, form and colour have played an important part in my life from the sun to reflections on lakes, the rivers, oceans and all of nature’s beauty and colour in the exterior world to the visions and intuitions in my interior space that have guided me through this life. I had been in many churches searching for something I knew not what, even to the point of keeping their pictures until I was taken to a spiritualist church, and as I walked through the door it was as if I had been temporarily blinded, like being born again, by a different kind of sun.

When the medium began her clairvoyance I was the first one she came to – more illumination. And much to my friend’s disappointment, who had never had a message, a different medium each week came to me for five weeks on the trot with more or less the same message! Guess what? All about taking up writing and spreading the light! And Grandfather in spirit was there to help me all the way, offering me his walking stick for support and his pen for the writing! I guess the light was left to me!

Each of us carries a light within but I wonder if most of us pay any attention to this fundamental fact. If we take the trouble to investigate we can find out which particular path the light of the Soul within is trying to illuminate for us to follow. This is termed our true purpose and we will be happiest when we find that way and change direction if necessary to follow that personal path.

Did you know that although the Brain and certain special centres in the family of endocrine glands responsible for the management of our inner systems by the minute by minute introduction of critical hormones into our blood stream, are located inside our skulls, they are nevertheless sensitive to light?

The truth is that we are all Light Bearers. Even when you read these words you will all read something and remember something different because between the words are photons of light that are recognised and often accepted in different ways by different people.

For some there will be nothing at all, for others maybe a spark of that recognition and for the rest perhaps the slight opening of a door, with just a glimmer of light, of a certain colour, shining through.

If you allow it you can join the ever growing band of musicians who play on a harmonious group of instruments that make no sound but only shower a rainbow of colours everywhere they go. For you see we are the light of the world and you yourself are the instrument of your choice with the frequency and the colour of who you really are and have chosen to be.

You know that a Tilley or paraffin lamp a torch, electric light or just a simple candle will turn a dark place into a bright space, so shine your colours and turn the dark you find into the light you seek.
With Love & Light, David


About David

Devonian writer
This entry was posted in Personal and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to THE LIGHT BEARER

  1. cat says:

    Love your every word, Master D. Makes me want to cry … Makes me want to trust again in the goodness of people … Thank you. Love, cat.

  2. eugene1941 says:

    Well done, David… This is a beautiful walk on memory lane… Thank you for reminding us we are the instruments that carry music and that we are Light Bearers. Whatever the source of our Light, whether paraffin lamps, candles or torches, we can illuminate the darkest corners of the Rooms of the World.
    May we never, no more, hide our light under the bushel, it would be a shame… but rather let us try to lit the lights of those who are still in darkness.

    With much love to you and to all those who will read your post.

  3. davidtenn says:

    Bless you Cat and Eugene for your resonses they mean so much to me. You know we are all innately good, it just takes a bit of revealing from time to time. Love, David

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s