top of page


10 items found for ""

  • Saint-Germain in my living room

    In The Story of a Thousand lifetimes there are some predictions made by spirits and by ascended masters. One is from Saint-Germain and I can only say that what he predicted came true, because I do share information in The Story…I received from him, Kuthumi, Serapis Bey, Sananda, and from White Bull. Only my involvement with the New Economy has yet to unfold (or not), but I am very interested in it. Predictions indicate possibilities, sometimes they are already on their way to being realized, and sometimes they are still in an early stage when only the energy has been set in motion. Abracadabra? All this comes naturally in The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes. Not as a theory but as part of my experiences. This is what Saint-Germain told me in February 2018: ‘Too crazy for words,’ says Anton as we sit around the fire having our breakfast the next day. 'You cannot dismiss what happened to you with a dolphin and think that you are automatically protected by your high vibration. There's something wrong with this. Will you go into it further? Will you send them an email?' 'I have to think about it, but I won't go back to that place full of symbols of Damanhur and the head of that ghoul staring from his books anymore. Maybe I'll request another session with Mireille because she attracts me more at the moment than the other members of the team.' 'Good idea.' We sit in front of the fire in silence and each with our own thoughts. Until Anton suddenly looks around and asks: 'Do you also feel that a different energy has entered the room?' I wake up from my thoughts and look around until I indeed notice something that wasn't there before. ‘You're right, there is something.’ We both remain silent to better sense what that something could be. ‘Gee, Anton, it's Saint-Germain, that can't be true, can it?’ Then I hear a voice: 'Stop making yourself small, it's time. Remember who and what you are. Remember what you know. In the not too distant future, you will start sharing information you receive from us with people. You will talk about, among other things, the new world economy.' I burst out laughing: 'I'm going to talk about the new world economy, I don't even understand my own economy.' Anton looks at me in surprise, because he apparently couldn't follow the conversation. 'Connect with my energy daily, it will help you to come more in your own center. And it's good if you don't know much about economics, so your brain can't interfere with it.' There he surely got a point. Saint-Germain leaves another message for Anton, because something awaits him too. ‘Now I'm really going to make an appointment with Mireille because you don't believe this, do you?’ Apparently, Anton and I are happily together again in the bubble of another and higher dimension because a figure appears next to him and lets me know that he is Anton's brother. Aowajoy May 19, 2024 The publication date for the Dutch edition of The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes is September 9. There is an option to receive a Dutch edition (special edition in hardcover and beautiful design) a month earlier. More news about this soon on social media and in my newsletters (register on the homepage of the website). The English version will be published at the end of the year (2024). ©-Joy Ligteringen #The-story-of-a-thousand-lifetimes #Saint-Germain #Kuthumi #Serapis-Bey #Sananda #White-Bull #New-Economy

  • Poop

    Lately, I had some of those days again where nothing came out of my hands, my brain was having a holiday, and inspiration was not even in my big toe. I know it is normal given what is going on with me, and it has nothing to do with growing older, but to be able to embrace New Life where nothing ever ends because it is infinite. I'm talking about the life of a Magus on Earth. I'll leave that for now. One of those days on which my brain was having a day off, and nothing came out of my hands, was last Sunday. I looked outside to see if a spark of inspiration would come from there, but nothing happened there either. For some distraction, I opened my laptop to see if Netflix had anything else to offer. “Hack your Health, the Secrets of Your Gut” appeared on the home screen. I wanted to scroll away but I got stuck and before I knew it, I was watching the documentary with fascination in which I was taken to the world of micro-organisms, intestines, vegetables, fruit, fibers, and poop. I looked at the four people who all had problems with their health, food, or weight. I already knew that the intestines are in direct contact with the nervous system, but I did not know that the hormonal balance is also maintained by what happens in the intestines. A couple of years ago, Kuthumi started talking about poop in his inimitable way in an online meeting of the Crimson Circle. It was considered hilarious and hardly taken seriously. In the Crimson Circle, there is the idea that you can eat whatever you want. I cannot remember Kuthumi ever saying you can eat whatever you want. And I was the walking example that eating all I wanted doesn't always work out well, but you'd rather not say that out loud. I always thought I ate more than enough vegetables and fiber. Well no. The documentary on Netflix opened my eyes. Twenty to thirty types of fruit and vegetables should be on my menu every week. I counted and didn't get any further than sixteen, and I even counted the unions. Kuthumi has not stopped talking about poop and about the importance of healthy food in which fruit and vegetables play a leading role, especially if you want to stay for a while as Magus. He has been working with Lauren Hutton, or Sarah (, for years, and they share lots of information. By the way, not only food scraps are pooped out, but also accumulated, unprocessed, toxic emotions can be removed in this way. Just read a anecdote from The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes which I’ll share in a minute. There was also a bright spot in the documentary that made me very happy: if I optimize the microbiome in my gut, I might be able to get rid of my annoying food intolerances. “Start with a tiny amount of food you can't tolerate and increase it slowly,” was the advice. I was in and will therefore have to make some adjustments. Instead of going to the market or store once a week, this means buying fresh fruit and vegetables at least twice a week. It also means cooking every day and not every other day, purchasing a food processor for smoothies, starting fermenting, and, above all, enjoying delicious recipes. Now I have to make sure I don't stop. The smell of fresh croissants, a pleasant meal at a pizzeria, and not having to check every bag to see if it contains unwanted ingredients, will certainly help me to take on this challenge. Maybe I'll even test my poop with a microbiome test, although I find those tests expensive. I remember years ago, about twelve years I guess, having to shit endlessly sitting on a toilet in an old farmhouse overlooking the Tor near Glastonbury in England. I wrote about it. Here is the promised piece of text: A colorful fair of figures dances before my eyes while I sit on the toilet on the top floor of an old farmhouse not far from Glastonbury. From the toilet, I can make out the vague outlines of the Tor in the distance. I am in the land of Avalon. With my gaze focused on the Tor, I suddenly find myself in an apartment building with all the fairs of the world stacked on top of each other. I know this. 'Skip that nonsense,' I say, 'I don't feel like it.' I never seem to learn it either, of course, things now step up and I end up in the Tower of Babel, where all the fairs of the world have coincidentally gathered. In the meantime, I keep pooping. 'What have I got? Why am I on the toilet again?' ‘You leave the shit where it belongs,’ says the familiar voice. ‘You haven't forgotten all those past lives that happened in this country, have you?’ 'No, certainly not, how could I forget?' and I think of the gallows field in Wales where my eight-year-old son was hung upside down while I had to watch, I think of the Scottish queen I once was and who, together with her husband, was quite violently put to death, I think about a previous life with Max, who was my employer at the time and who did not see me standing either, and I think about the young woman who drowned at sea in 1879 on the way back from Australia to England. And those are just the lives that have shown themselves to me. What do I have with this country? ‘No, I haven't forgotten.’ ‘Then just sit there for a while,’ the voice says. Enjoy your poop! Aowajoy I discovered a new copyright and started using it. ©-2024. This work is openly licensed via Common Creatives BY-SA 4.0 Image: with the help of my premium Canva account

  • Dying to live

    With about thirty people I participate in a medicine ceremony somewhere in the middle of nowhere in England. Everyone has settled comfortably on sleeping mats with a sleeping bag and the necessary pillows. We have just taken our first glass of medicine and the musicians have started playing, soft sounds begin to fill the room. I look around at all those people who, like me, are trying to understand more about themselves and life, who want to break free from conditioning that does not serve them, to break out of the much too narrow straitjacket. This is not the first time I have participated and I know that the medicine can be brutally honest, that in any case, it brings out what I unconsciously keep hidden within myself. But also that it shows my beauty that I hide for incomprehensible reasons. I crawl deeper into my sleeping bag, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. Soon the surroundings disappear while out of nowhere a very tall, thin, dark red figure suddenly appears in front of me, it must be at least two meters tall or perhaps three meters. His face is triangular, he looks like a robot. It slides from left to right and seems to scan me until it hovers over a spot. From there he draws a circle around me. Suddenly I felt an iron band around my throat and there were iron pins on that band that bore through my skin. I don't feel any pain. The tall red man continues to observe me. His coldness and emotionlessness are starting to bother me. Why is he so indifferent? “No,” responds the man, who can apparently hear my thoughts, “it's not indifference, it's utmost accuracy out of compassion.” I feel somewhat ashamed because he is really giving me his full attention. As suddenly as he came, he disappeared, as if he had gone back to discuss his diagnosis. Suddenly, laser beams shoot through the tire, which then melts away. A deep sigh of relief escapes me. My relief doesn't last long, I have to run to the toilet. When the door is closed, a wave of nausea sets in. With my panties down I don't know what to do first, damn it, no bowl, no fountain! Sitting on the toilet I puke all over the floor and my feet. Gawd! Why am I doing this? I am soon back in my place with clean clothes. Another wave of nausea comes, then another and another, until I have to get it out of my toes again and there is still something that needs to be removed. I vaguely notice that one of the healers sits in front of me like a shield. Protection of a man, yes, that's right. This way I can do my work hidden from the world. After a while, I am close to complete exhaustion. I'm on my knees but hanging limply forward like a dried-out plant. The healer sits behind me, grabs me, and helps me to continue. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of the tingsha, time for the second round. How do I get there? I drag myself to my feet. When I am back on my mat, I want to lay down but something forces me to sit up and continue working. Suddenly the nausea goes away and the lump also seems to disappear. Great relief that immediately gives way to a huge ringing in my ears, only to be sucked into a tube, then I know: I have to die. Panic! “No one can live fully without dying first,” says the now familiar voice. My God, is that necessary now? I sit back resignedly and wait for what is to come. I don't have to wait long; the space is getting tighter, and my ears are ringing as if there is a storm in there. Thirst! Next to me is a large bottle of spring water, no, don't do that! Don't get distracted, only this is important, don't get distracted! But I'm so thirsty, I'm dying in the desert. No, don't do that, focus. Less and less oxygen, no more space. What strange sounds. I rush on through the narrow space that is getting tighter and tighter as the sounds get further and further away from me. Dead silence. I fly on at breakneck speed. Until I come to a stop in front of the threshold. I hesitate. More silence, strange whooshing silence. Nothing anymore. Now it comes down to it. I do not dare. Even with less oxygen, I shrink back. Suddenly a man stands in front of me and with a big grin on his face, reaches his hand for mine. I take his hand, step over the threshold and disappear. Suddenly I'm back in the middle of the ceremony room with no memory of the realm beyond death, no idea of the time I spent there, looking at my enormous legs. Wow, what gigantic creatures! I'll have a good feel for those strange things. Meanwhile, people are dancing around me. They are all transparent. That one over there wants to sleep with that one, oh dear. And that one there, what fear. But that one, is so pure and so loving! Tears of emotion. I get up, dance towards her, and am met with recognition. My body follows the impulses from a time long past, the goddess is awake again and full of strength. She radiates and dances her world to Earth. Aowajoy ©2024-joy ligteringen Out: The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes

  • Gertrude

    Fascinated I watch Goenka as he speaks to us via video on this first evening of the ten-day Vipassana training. I sit on a meditation cushion at the very back of the large Dhamma Hall of the Vipassana Center in Belgium and look around at almost a hundred other people. 'Nothing is more difficult than to deprive yourself of what you are attached to. Every alcoholic knows that alcohol is not good for him and yet he cannot stay away from it, every person knows that you should not kill another human being, and yet murders take place every day. And don't think this has nothing to do with you, oh no! So many people live in misery and want so badly to be different and despite this desire, just as many people create misery again and again, day in and day out. You are here as a student and have agreed to submit to a ten-day training to stop the wheel that is trapping you so that you can escape misery and create a life of peace and harmony.’ Goenka remains silent for a moment, looks around slowly and deliberately, and then continues. ‘Everyone is looking for peace and harmony because these are missing in our lives. We all feel restless, irritated, out of balance, and miserable at times. And when we feel restless, we do not limit it to ourselves but we continue to transmit this unpleasant feeling to others. Unrest permeates the atmosphere around the miserable one. Anyone else around such a person comes into contact with also becomes irritated and restless. This is definitely not the right way to live. To be delivered from our unrest, we must know the actual cause of the unrest, the cause of that misery. When we examine the problem it quickly becomes clear that whenever we develop something negative, an impurity in the mind, we are bound to become restless. A spiritual impurity, a mental defilement, cannot coexist with peace and harmony. How do we develop such negativity? We become very unhappy when we notice someone behaving in a way we don't like. Unwanted things happen and we create tension within ourselves. Desired things don't happen, a few obstacles arise and we get upset about them again. We start to get tangled up inside. And this process of reacting makes the entire mental and physical structure so tense, so full of negativity. Life becomes one big misery.’ Goenka's voice is hypnotic which makes me sleepy. Every time I have to call myself to order. 'Things constantly occur that are contrary to our wishes and desires. So the question is: how can we stop blindly reacting to things we don't like and avoid reacting impulsively? How can we avoid becoming tense? How can we keep our peace and quiet? When anger arises within us, it overpowers us so quickly that we don't even notice it. Then, overcome with anger, we do or say things that are hurtful to ourselves and others. Later, when the anger has subsided, it bothers us and we regret it. We then ask this or that or God for forgiveness: "Oh, I did something wrong, please forgive me!" But next time, in a similar situation, we react in exactly the same way. All that remorse doesn't help anything. The difficulty is that we are not aware of when an impurity begins. It begins deep in the subconscious of the mind and by the time it reaches the conscious level it has become so strong that it overpowers us and we cannot observe it.’ Dear Goenka, I think, I don't completely agree with you. The way you say it now, it seems as if we are all going around in circles, but I don't have that feeling. I see people changing around me, including myself. I just wish it would go a little faster and that I could use a clear method to help myself further, that's why I'm here. ‘About 2,500 years ago, Gautama Buddha reached the ultimate truth and found the real solution. He discovered that whenever an impurity arises in the mind, two things happen simultaneously on the physical plane. One is that the breath loses its normal rhythm. One starts breathing more heavily whenever something negative arises in the mind. This is easy to observe. And, at a finer level, a biochemical reaction occurs in the body, leading to a sensation. So every impurity creates a sensation in the body. And this is the key to the solution, a practical solution. If we continue the practices, eventually the impurities disappear completely and we maintain our peace and happiness. Gradually the mind becomes free from impurities; it becomes pure. And a pure mind is always full of love, unconditional love; full of compassion for the shortcomings and misery of others; full of joy at their success and happiness; full of equanimity under all circumstances. Those who regularly practice Vipassana become more sensitive to the misery of others and do their utmost to alleviate that misery as best they can without any excitement but with a mind full of love, compassion, and equanimity. In this way, they maintain their happiness and contentment while contributing to the peace and harmony of others. This direct experience of the truth about ourselves, this technique of self-observation is called Vipassana meditation. “Vipassana” means observing things as they really are.’ It is deathly quiet in the Dhamma Hall, everyone listens breathlessly to the almost magnetic voice of the man who spread the Vipassana meditation technique throughout the world. I'll pick up the thread again. 'All you have to do is train your brain. You wouldn't let a wild elephant loose in your beautifully landscaped garden, would you? And certainly not a bull elephant, life-threatening even, it could cost you your life! No, an elephant must be trained, with great patience, with total acceptance of its mistakes, over and over again you lead the elephant to where you want it to work. Treat your brain as a wild elephant, respect its power, and know that only with a lot of patience can you tame this enormous power so that it serves you. If you can tame this force, you will have a wonderful and very powerful servant for the rest of your life.' Suddenly, a huge elephant sits in front of my eyes, it is a lady, she looks at me with her little bright eyes, shakes her head, reaches for my head with her trunk, sniffs, touches my hair, and then turns around. Her tail flicks against my nose as she slowly trudges away. Her name is Gertrude. Fascinated, I follow her into the jungle. From: The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes Aowajoy

  • Love in the Cemetery

    Near where I live there is an old cemetery with beautiful old trees, family graves, and lovingly made memorials. I recently walked there with my dog Sara, and slowly became aware of a presence that I did not expect: Love. I felt love everywhere, in the texts on the memorials, in the flowers, and on children's drawings, I was surrounded by it as I walked from one path to another. When someone dies, the conversation stops, the exchange of glances and words, the attempts to be understood by the other person, to express feelings stop, then there is the residue. Of course, that residue does not only contain love, there is also frustration, sometimes anger, there is sadness for the missed opportunities and loss. But during my walk, I became especially aware of love. Yesterday I watched the farewell of Alexei Navalny, who was buried in Moscow, and the preceding ceremony in a church. Despite all threats, the turnout was large, the anger and sadness were visible, but love, invisible, was also present. A few weeks ago I watched 2Doc's documentary about Navalny and was deeply impressed by so much dedication and perseverance. I felt deep sympathy for this man and the opposite for the man who had caused him and his family and so many other Russians so much suffering: Putin. I was also acutely aware that what has transpired between these two forces – and is undoubtedly perpetuated by others – cannot lead to peace. Why not? Because it assumes that one is right and the other is wrong. Duality at its best. I stay out of duality as much as possible, so I also stay as far away from political choices as possible, or at least I try. Reality is not created by politics, but by the level of consciousness. Consciousness is what everything revolves around, it gives direction to energy, causing certain possibilities to come to life in this earthly reality. Politics is by definition a dead end because it is not aimed at the highest possible outcome for everyone, it is thinking that you know better than someone who thinks differently, which means that peace and harmony cannot arise. Unfreedom par excellence! What is going on in Russia itself, in the war between Russia and Ukraine, between the Israelis and the Palestinians, is something that can only be solved with consciousness, not human daily awareness but with divine consciousness. Only when people let go of the need to be right and of wanting control, there is room for a greater force (not power!) to pave the way to peace. Within all those trouble spots, this force that does not push but only expands is already invisibly present. It takes place outside our human field of vision, making its way to a world where it is no longer about power but about the best for everyone. That power is Love with a capital letter, a Love without focus on a goal or on an object, unconditional Love that remains undisturbed in the hearts of those who have reached this point, and which, even if still reluctantly, becomes more and more visible and spreads, like an oil slick on the sea. I am hopeful and hope you are (or become) too. Aowa Joy ©Joy-Ligteringen-2024

  • Are we all in a theater play?

    Years ago I suddenly found myself in a theater in a different reality. Of course I reported on it in The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes. After reading the text it hopefully leaves you with the question: are we all in a theater play? And if so why? The Story…will provide you with answers. A small piece of text (without answers): 'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this performance. Tonight we proudly present the piece “Joy and Illusion”.' ‘Damn it,’ I shout. The curtain rises and I see a dressing room with racks full of costumes. The stage seems deserted, but then one by one, balls of white and blue light appear on stage. The balls slowly grow until they almost take on a human shape. They radiate cheerfulness and appear to be dancing. For a moment they remind me of the Fools. One by one the balls float to the racks of costumes. The first ball grabs a costume and squeezes into it. Before me stands myself. There is not much left of the cheerfulness. My face is full of worrying wrinkles. ‘Ah bah,’ I shout, ‘is that necessary now?’ The next cheerful ball floats over to the rack of costumes and puts one on. Bas appears in front of me. ‘Oh no, are we having that again,’ I shout. ‘Silence there,’ a voice responds. A third cheerful ball picks up a costume and a tall, blonde woman wearing a floor-length, gold-colored dress appears. I don't say anything anymore because there stands the woman who came to see me during the reincarnation session and asked: 'Are you going to get in my way again?' Max appears next, he is wearing a beautiful striped suit with a pink shirt and matching shoes. Within a few minutes, the stage is full of even more people from my life: Rea, Katharina, Sam, Maria, Mahmood, Freek, Maarten, my brothers, my sister, parents, lawyers, insurance agents, doctors, psychiatrist, physiotherapists, neighbors, friends and people I have long forgotten. Once complete, the whole set starts moving. A large group disappears into the shadows of the wings. I walk forward. A romantic picture emerges in my transparent head: Max and I grew old together. We look at each other lovingly. Then Maria appears and says: 'You could be twin souls.' 'My heart's desire!' I exclaim. The me in the audience immediately bursts out laughing, while Bas walks forward on stage. The me on stage exclaims as soon as she sees him: 'That can't be the man of my life.' I find it very funny because right through the costumes I see them giving each other a cheerful wink. Bas makes a stubborn face while I on the stage shrivel with sadness. The sadness makes no sense at all and it makes me laugh so terribly that it gives me a cramp in my stomach. ‘Silence in the room!’ a voice booms. Then Max and the tall, blonde woman in the gold-colored dress walk forward. Max kneels and kisses her feet. I almost peed my pants in the meantime. The woman nods briefly at Max and fans herself with a beautiful fan. While Max lies at her feet, she lets her gaze wander into an endless distance and sighs deeply. I am silent for a moment, but soon I have forgotten the whole scene. One scene after another appears and one is even more comical than the other. All my too quickly drawn conclusions come to light and I just keep laughing. On stage, the stage self reads a book and shouts: 'Oh, but now I understand,' and then immediately takes a new book from a very large pile next to her and reads it with even greater attention. While the stage self is engrossed in a book, I see her Knowingness leaning back in annoyance. The Knowingness taps its foot restlessly on the ground and looks bored. It then blows against the third eye and then uses a sleeve to clean the window, which immediately fogs up again. Knowingness sighs deeply and sits down again. I can't stop myself anymore and am rolling on the floor laughing. Every time I try with all my might to stop laughing, I burst out laughing. The voice continues to demand silence and eventually threatens with removal from the room. Time and again Maria appears and looks at my head while she makes another prediction that I happily accept. Then Katie Melua starts to sing a duet with Bajeera: "This is the closest thing to crazy as I have ever been," alternating with Bajeera's deep bass voice singing "yeah, yeah," as a rhythmic background. ‘Ow, ow,’ I shout, ‘oh stop it, I can't take it anymore. Illusion, oh my god!’ Then a sign appears on the stage: pause... Although life is a serious matter, we don't have to take everything so seriously. There is so much more than we see with our human little eyes. And about Knowingness (not knowledge that is mental), I will write about this another time. Aowajoy February 2024

  • A good question is as Sherlock Holmes

    People are full of questions. Questions that we are aware of and questions that remain in the background and can gnaw at us. Often, when an urgent question arises, the first impulse is to look outside ourselves for the answer. We ask a so-called authority, search on Google, search through books, and often end up with an unsatisfactory answer, no answer at all, a half solution, or a complete error. In other words, it seems that we have to find the right answers differently. A piece of text from The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes: The tinkling of glass brings me back to the Sacred Temple. A new round of ayahuasca. The love of Ginny (my dog) lingers around me and starts to warm me completely, driving away the cold that I always carry with me. I am shown all kinds of everyday things one after the other. Until my thumb presents itself. My thumb? What kind of nonsense is that? My thumb stands life-size in front of my nose, and it has had difficulty bending lately due to a tendon problem. Not only does my thumb seem to have difficulty bending, I also find it difficult to bend myself, for Love with a capital letter. I'm so afraid of dislocating my thumb - which apparently serves as a metaphor for myself - that I prefer to keep it still. The way to my feet is in front of my nose but I see nothing. I keep going around in circles like a goldfish in its bowl, for fear that something I don't like will happen again in my life. My heart is calling, but I'm busy gathering information without seeing that I have everything it takes to recover. Recovering and becoming whole requires love, peace and trust. My heart knows the way, it has its own logic and it follows the flow of love. Because I don't follow, my heart hurts so much and my thumb no longer bends. What now? I feel like I'm entering unknown territory. An old statement that I once came up with comes to mind: what you don't know, you should ask, if necessary of yourself. Very simple actually. The most obvious question is: what is the first impulse that comes to mind now? You see how I got lost in my own life, rambling on and on until my heart ached and I couldn't bend my thumb anymore. Back to asking yourself questions. Identifying the initial impulse when you have a question could be a start, but it could be more rewarding if you took a step back, found the deeper layer of a question, felt its energy, allowed the silence so that you connect with the wisdom of your soul or with Knowingness, or Gnost, and find so much more. About sixteen years have now passed since I asked myself that question, and since then endless questions have arisen, and I have often fallen into the trap of looking for answers outside of myself. Another anecdote, this time recent, and one that carries magic. A few days ago I went to a coffee concert on my bike. When I locked my bike, I immediately knew that I would not be able to open the lock. I shrugged my shoulders, went inside, enjoyed Chopin for over an hour, and afterward discovered that I couldn't open the lock with the best will in the world. I looked around and asked the first strong-looking man if he could open my lock. The man pried and pulled as hard as he could, but he couldn't. I asked number two, who also failed. Okay, what now? I decided to walk home and think of a solution there. I hadn't even been on the road for five minutes when I walked past a van with the text on the side: Mobile Locksmith. I looked inside, saw a man scrolling on his phone, tapped on the window, and asked if he could open my bike lock. He could, he did, and he didn't even want to get paid for it. For me, this incident was a wink from my Divinity, my God Self, my I Am That I Am, to let me know that I can rely on her, that she will provide me with everything I need to do what I came to do. I needed this incident because there is a big challenge in front of me, one that my little human self keeps thinking she is responsible for, namely the crowdfunding campaign! I have now made some progress in preparing for publication and know that quite a bit of money is needed to make a beautiful book of The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes. You will find more on the website page about crowdfunding. So if you have a question, ask yourself first and do not expect a direct answer, not in the form of a spoken answer, expect clues, coincidences in which you can recognize clues. That is how your wisdom or your Divinity provides you with what you need. And another thing: there may be a period in which you may feel tense and restless, causing you to think that you are doing something wrong and you will still force an answer or solution. That tension is a creative tension, so tolerate it and don't push it away because it makes you nervous. Feeling calm is not always good, sometimes it is too comfortable, too much of an old and worn-out pattern that you are in. Tolerate tension when it arises during a period when you are waiting for an answer or solution!

  • Is there more between Heaven and Earth?

    All my life I knew that there was more between Heaven and Earth than I could perceive with my five human senses. I didn't talk to anyone about it until one evening. It is 1974 and I am sitting on the back of the bicycle of my future first husband. We are on our way to the Movies, a cinema in Amsterdam. Halfway through I shouted from the luggage carrier: 'Do you also think there is more between Heaven and Earth?' ‘What do you mean?’ he sounded suspicious. ‘Well, that there is more than just this planet, the visible world.’ ‘You mean a God?’ ‘Well, God, just more than we can see.’ 'Ridiculous! Simply, what you see is what is there. No more.' ‘So you think that when you die, you disappear forever?’ 'Yes of course! Faith is for the stupid. I won't be fooled and certainly won't pray to something that doesn't exist. I really hope you're not that stupid to fall for those things because if so, you're out of your mind.' Now I didn't like being thought stupid, so I kept my mouth shut for twelve years and then I left Number One. Husband number two was different, very different. He saw angels and even angels who showed him the way by spitting light when he was psychotic again and therefore wandered around. When he reappeared after a while, usually with the help of the police, he was busy with the Bible and announced to everyone that God really existed. Even though he had grown up in a Muslim environment. ‘Joycie,’ he used to say, ‘you have to believe in God again, just like your mom and dad.’ Well, just start believing in command, that's not easy. He never remained so peaceful for long, so I left him also. Because my life was quite chaotic and I had great difficulty finding my direction and especially my life purpose, I looked for a way to gain more control over my life and what is better suited for that than oracles? I chose the I Ching and dove deep into it. I understood the language and especially its symbolism quite quickly. I consulted the I Ching for all kinds of things to create a better life for myself with more control over it. I regularly received the answer: great happiness is coming. Over time I concluded that this great happiness had apparently lost its way and started asking a different kind of questions. There were questions for which the I Ching had no satisfactory answers. Questions like what am I doing here? What's the point of it all? Who am I? In search of answers, I decided to focus on my intuitive development. I signed up for a basic course, regularly received readings from my fellow students, and had an endless hunger for more. Course after course followed, and I went to everyone and everything who saw and heard more than with the five human senses, or at least claimed so, and grew in my conviction that there was indeed so much more, and also that I wanted to experience it all myself without the intervention of mediums, astrologers, tarotists and so on. At one point I came into contact with ayahuasca and I pitched my tent here for a little too long, as I can now conclude. Altogether I have participated in about a hundred ceremonies and have also guided people myself. I have experienced fantastic things, seen so much that cannot be seen with the human eyes, and received so many insights and healing, incredible. What it also yielded were wonderful stories, which I painstakingly wrote down. During this period I also heard The Voice for the first time (more about that in The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes. I'm not going to spoil it now!) Ayahuasca suited me and resonated with my previous lives as a shaman, medicine woman or man. And then? Then I came into contact with non-earthly beings who were not present in physical form, such as ascended masters, guides, past lives, and ultimately my beloved, and learned to communicate with them. And then and then so many more, and so many stories. Just be patient and you can dive into The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes and who knows, a whole new world may open up for you. Stay informed by signing up for my newsletter. January 21, 2024 Aowajoy ©-2024-Joy Ligteringen

  • There is a lot to do!

    The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes has been written, time to put it out into the world so that it can serve as a way-shower, as a source of inspiration, and to make people laugh at life itself occasionally. In a conversation with Sarah and Kuthumi on November 14, Kuthumi told me, among other things, that many people will benefit from reading The Story…. When you hear something like that, it is of course a huge incentive to switch on the turbo mode again and get back to work. I thought I still had months to write, but within two weeks, on November 30, I had no choice but to conclude that everything that wanted to be written had been written; The Story… itself had put an end to it. After years of writing – 16 to be precise – there was nothing left to add. A strange feeling of disorientation came over me, what next? Yes, what next? Two days of silence followed, and suddenly, a whole world of possibilities lay at my feet and ideas flew around me. Whoa! Stop! “Keep it simple Joy!” “Oh yes, let me do that.” Time to turn The Story… into a book! Great idea. Am I going to do that on my own again, like with the old editions of parts two and three? No! I wrote The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes on my own, although I received a lot of information and clues from other realities, but this time it takes a team to turn it into a beautiful book and publish it! This book deserves to have a place on the bookshelf, and when you open it, it makes you feel happy because it looks so beautiful. It is also a book that you do not read once, but pick up again and again to read another part of it, and that is why it must be firmly bound. The old editions of the three parts received many reactions such as: 'I read it in one sitting,' or, 'I couldn't put it down.' That's, of course, nice to hear, really, let me know, but The Story… can only mean something to you if you pick it up again after a while, for example, if you think that your search for who you truly are will never end, or if you feel completely lost in your own life, or if you think you are the only crazy person in the world, or if you wonder when your realization will finally arrive on your doorstep, or if you discover that there is still a lot to come after your realization. Or…and I could go on and on. The Story… has also its right to exist next to all those ascended masters and other way-showers, because it connects your quest with your daily life, with what is happening in the world. It also makes you laugh now and then or puts a smile on your face because it is also a celebration of recognition! If you would like to help bring The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes, 1152 to be precise, into the world, you can, and you are more than welcome. On the homepage, you will find a call to complete the TEAM. And a CROWDFUNDING campaign will start soon to cover the costs of paying the team members and whatever else is needed. For this, I need someone who has experience with fundraising and/or crowdfunding. And AMBASSADORS are needed to help draw attention to The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes. Please share this blog or newsletter! Or draw attention to my website. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Aowa Joy ©Joy Ligteringen

  • A kick in the ass from Kuthumi

    (Image of Kuthumi, taken from the internet) It is November 14, 2023, and I have booked a one-on-one session with Sarah and Kuthumi due to a past Atlantean life that seems stuck and has been looking down in shock at a black molten plastic-like citadel for so long. The conversation flows smoothly and the life of the woman, who turns out to be called Mathilda, breaks free and shares her story (you can read it in The Story of a Thousand Lifetimes) with Sarah, Kuthumi, and me. I have a few more issues after this that I would like to discuss, but before I can start, Sarah says: 'Kuthumi says: "she is writing a book, let's support it." He is very enthusiastic about this.” I am pleasantly surprised that Kuthumi brings up my book and is even enthusiastic about it. Sarah continues: 'we are really passionate about it, you have to write your story! Many people will find it helpful. There is one thing that keeps you from getting it all out, and that is the fear of having something so precious, your life's work, this beautiful creation, and then seeing it destroyed, just like what happened in Mathilda's life. I know it doesn't sound logical, but that's what this Atlantean life, Mathilda's, experienced: she had to destroy her life's work instead of making it come to life. It's related, is what Kuthumi and I say. You put your whole being into writing this story. There's no other way to do it. You put yourself in it. It's a lot to get all that out.’ 'I already published a large part of the story in three parts, but I withdrew them from publication after a while. I want to go through them again, make changes, take out what turned out not to be essential, and add in what is essential that I didn't know at first.' ‘Kuthumi says, “Aha, aha,” and waves his finger back and forth.” 'What does he mean?' ‘The reason you withdrew the books isn't really to edit them. It's because you're afraid it'll be melted down into black plastic.’ 'Oh really? It is very precious to me, so I want to do a good job.' 'I know, believe me, I know. Before I published my first book, I didn't sleep for about six weeks. It requires you to be very vulnerable. Now I don't care anymore, I say oh whatever.’ 'I am also used to all kinds of comments. But because it is so dear to me, I want to do more than my best to make it a beautiful story and a beautifully designed book, and only then offer it to the world; it is my legacy.' ‘Yes, I understand, but a part of you is afraid it will turn into molten black plastic. Continue writing your story, don't wait any longer, it won't become melted plastic. You may think it has nothing to do with this Atlantean life, but it does. It's not supercharged, but there is a connection. Now after realization there is not much to heal, but there is a residue, and you can clean it with a tiny toothbrush. That's all there is to do. Kuthumi takes out his toothbrush and cleans those little dirt. That is it. Kuthumi says we don't have to lead the garbage truck, it's not necessary, some minor adjustments are needed, that's all. I make them all the time, if I hear that what I said or wrote doesn't sound as nice as I wanted, I change one little thing, and that changes everything. Small adjustments. She was so smart that Atlantean life,’ Sarah continues, ‘it was as if her talents were ultimately wasted. Many of us have these stories about getting so close to a goal and then seeing it fall apart. She, Mathilda, had to do this with a group, a collective, she says: “there was no concept of sovereignty with the creation of this communication technology, we acted like a machine. And then let it be destroyed, you feel everything as the group.” But she also says, “It's so different from your book, your writing because you don't have to do it that way.” ‘Indeed,’ I respond, ‘as long as I write, I don't want anyone around me.’ ‘That's the only way to do it. For example, many people talk with a Crimson Circle filter, which is an Atlantean residue, as if it is not their story, but a collective story of the group. Tell it exactly as it happened, in your way, don't weave a collective filter through your story.' 'Certainly not, what I always do while writing is to ask myself whether I am writing it exactly as I experienced it, whether it is pure and truly my experience, and whether I am not copying someone else. I am also careful not to have a hidden agenda in what I write. Of course, I have regularly caught myself being impure, but if all goes well, I managed to pick those out.' After this conversation, I traded my lazy life of watching movies with my chair at my work table and completed the story in two weeks. Aowa Joy (©2024 by Joy Ligteringen)

bottom of page