‘I don’t sense anything,’ I tell Anne. It’s a day before departure for the Azores, and I still have no idea what we are going to do there.
‘Maybe that’s just the point,’ Anne replies.
Fortunately, our eight travel companions – and others traveling with us at home – are already fully immersed in the story. Some have gotten messages from whales, others are making an ocean drum, and two are getting images of mermaids.
I, however, am blank. No impulse, no images, no insights or directions.
‘Trust the process,’ says Anne.

We travel by train from Tomar to Lisbon, where we take a hotel near the airport. The neighborhood where we are staying is full of skyscrapers, hotels and entertainment parks of all kinds. There is even a cable car along the waterfront. We decide to take a stroll along the quay, encounter groups of people in bizarre costumes, and advertisements and offers from restaurants and bars scream at us everywhere. I feel myself getting emptier inside. What on earth are we going to do?

To escape the crowds we board the cable car. But instead of enjoying it, I am suddenly afraid of the height. Images from movies of gondolas falling down flash through my mind. I look down. When we fall, we end up half in the water, half on the quay. Dead in one go.

Our hotel room also feels surreal. We are on the thirteenth floor looking out over the quay with the hotels, the cable car and a huge sea aquarium.
‘Strange,’ I say to Anne. ‘I thought they always skip the thirteenth floor in hotels. It’s an unlucky number. And besides, the thirteenth card of the Tarot is Death. And on Friday the thirteenth all the Templars were rounded up and arrested.’
‘Yes, but it’s also the number of the goddess,’ Anne parries. ‘There are thirteen moons in a year. The natural cycle is one of thirteen, as all women know. So it’s just how you interpret it.’

At night I dream about Jos, with whom I have made so many trips to do energetic work: North Korea, South Korea, Syria, Egypt, Ethiopia, etc. He comes to tell me in the dream that my work has begun. It has been exactly three years since he began his last – final – journey and has been doing his work on the other side of the veil ever since. This time to wake me up.

When I wake at five o’clock from the alarm clock and remember my dream in which he urges me to get to work, the ‘mythological reality’ is suddenly opening up. I think of the movie “Inception,” which I once saw with him and others, in preparation for our trip to North Korea. (Read ‘The Fifth Element’) . In the film, eight companions descend deep into the subconscious to install a thought, a seed, a new plan. It looks like that is what we are going to do this time with our eight traveling companions as well. Two by two we are traveling to the Azores, but at the same time we are traveling in mythological reality to Atlantis. Perhaps to transform or heal something of the old story – the downfall of Atlantis.
Get on with it, Jos urges me: ratio off, imagination on. I am ready. Dream the future, as the title of our week in the Azores is called.

As we walk through the labyrinth of perfumes, booze, cigarettes, caps and souvenirs at the airport to get to the boarding gate, I suddenly stop in the middle of the path. On the ground I see a large mermaid. The synchronicity has begun. This becomes even stronger when I see the name of the plane that will take us across the Atlantic to our final destination: DREAM.


For the past five months, I have been staring into the nightmare of Gaza and Israel. Every day there was something that stirred me violently: an image from the newsreel, videos of friendly journalists in Gaza, stories of victims of the 7 October attack, photos of the total destruction of Gaza, denial of the pain and suffering of ‘the other’ on both sides, a video in which cats were eating a corpse, reports of famine, relatives of friends being bombed. In short, it didn’t stop.
In that sea of misery, we still tried to do something positive and constructive. Together with friends Henk and Vera, I had set up a donation campaign to help our good friend Salam. How bizarre, I thought: a young woman called ‘Peace’ in the midst of war. She had had a baby a month before the war and was setting up a medical clinic. She had asked Henk, Vera and me for help. For three years, since Corona, we had been in monthly contact via zoom. She is a young doctor and was in the process of graduating.
Two months after the start of the war, she informed us: I want to pick up my doctor’s work again, but the whole health system is down. Hospitals and ambulances have been bombed. I am thinking of opening my own clinic in a tent, but I need help. Would you… ?
And so began a frenzied operation that required a lot of my energy and attention. How did I get money from my account to her account in Gaza? I phoned ING three times to get permission, because I know banks are panicky as soon as you transfer money to Arab or African countries. Once, when I transferred 100 euros to Anne with the mention ‘hotel Sudan’, the bank immediately hung on the line.
‘What are we doing?’ Asked the bank man suspiciously.
‘I write travel stories, and this time about Sudan,’ I replied stoically. ‘And how do we know those stories are not dangerous or inciting terrorism?’
‘Do you mean that my books are more dangerous than your investments in weapons, with which many wars are carried out?’ I bit back. My blood began to coal, and the man bounded in. ‘Well, you shouldn’t see it that way. I have to check you, because Sudan is on the list of countries boycotted by America.’
‘Oh, and when does America decide the policies of Dutch banks?’
I asked angrily.
‘Unfortunately, sir, we face sky-high fines if we circumvent US boycott rules,’ the man replied threateningly.

This time I wanted to get ahead of the problem, and decided to inform the bank itself about my plans for Gaza. ‘ Oh, how extraordinary what you are going to do,’ I was told on the other end of the line. After that, I heard nothing more. But the strategy worked; within three days the money was in Salam’s account. The donation campaign could begin. However, all sorts of other snags came up. One was the fear of whether Salam himself would survive. Every day Henk, Vera and I waited for a message whether there was life on the other end of the line. And yes. The project took shape. Salam was the first to buy a satellite phone with which she could reach us and others. Then she purchased a tent, furniture and assembled an initial team of doctors. In late January, the first clinic was opened. Tent two followed in February, Tent three in March. But fear and horror grew by the day. A cousin of Salam’s was killed, her sister’s tent was bombed, and when Salam was on the beach making a phone call, where you have the best reception, a bomb hit fifty metres away. It was like Russian roulette.
Additional problems included famine, sanitation, and increasing devastation. Roads and streets have turned into piles of sand, inflation has risen to 400 to 700%, a packet of flour costs a fortune, and drinking water is becoming increasingly scarce. But the greatest horror is the endless numbers of people being killed or injured. Never before have I witnessed a massacre of such magnitude.

The biggest challenge in all this began to be the art of not succumbing to despair and despondency. There were days when I was at a loss, or the darkness became too big and intense. I regularly called Haneen, a palestinian friend who lived in Portugal and was going through the same process. In her family, too, a cousin had been killed, and her sister was trying to flee the gaza strip. Each family was putting money together for at least one member of the family to survive.
I thought of Paramahansa Yogananda’s words, which helped me when I was down. “There was a time when life, to me, was like helplessly watching a terrifying movie, and I was giving too much importance to the tragedies being enacted therein. Then, one day while I was meditating, a great light appeared in my room and God’s voice said to me: ‘What are you dreaming about? Behold My eternal light, in which the many nightmares of the world come and go. They are not real.’
What a tremendous consolation it was! Nightmares, however dreadful, are merely nightmares.’

I was navigating between this spiritual wisdom of detachment and the reality of darkness in Gaza, trying to keep the balance: not drowning in the earthly drama, and at the same time not slipping into the spiritual dimension. Walking the middle ground. That was as difficult as choosing the middle ground between the story of the Israelis and the story of the Palestinians. Fortunately, I know several Israelis and Palestinians who feel the same way I do. Nuanced, searching for balance, for peace, for humanity in a sea of pain, anger and revenge. How hard is it not to lose sight of the human perspective when everyone is infected with the virus of division?

As I sat on the plane from Lisbon to Fayal, one of the nine islands of the Azores, the darkness of the Middle East drifted into the background for a moment. Another reality presented itself; that of whales, water, oceans and mermaids. I put on the music of Disney’s Little Mermaid and the dark images of Gaza took on another dimension. I suddenly saw a fleet of ships appear on the horizon carrying food and medicine. ‘Dream’, it said on the side of the plane in immense letters. Who knows, by collectively dreaming, we can somewhat influence reality. That was the reason and purpose of our rei: dreaming the future. To tune into the collective field together to mend the threads in the loom, heal old wounds or collective traumas and use myself and the group as accupuncture needles. There is no more wondrous – and incomprehensible – work than that….


As we sink deeper into the field with our eight travelling companions, all kinds of personal themes present themselves. No lightwork without personal, inner work. And also no light work without shadow work. One does not go without the other. So above so below, so inside, so outside.
With myself, it shows itself in an innocent joke I make in response to someone singing a song. Later, when I am in silence, I realise that I do joke, laugh things off, or ‘ridicule’ very often. I recognise the pattern of my father, who used to joke as soon as he got uncomfortable. Now humour is a great thing, and taking things too seriously is the other end of the spectrum, but still I feel it requires inner examination.
The theme underneath is whether I take myself seriously enough. There’s a piece that likes to laugh everything off, because sometimes it’s so great. During the week, I catch a glimpse of the grandeur of my soul, and it scares me every time. How am I supposed to shape that grand field in this flat world now, without making myself look immortally ridiculous? What a joke that we are trapped in such a small ego, such a small personality, such a small vehicle, while the soul is infinitely grand and divine?
It remains a struggle that reminds me of a chick that has to do everything to break out of an egg. It takes all the power of consciousness to slowly shed the shell of the ego. And that process involves trial and error, three steps forward, two steps back.

If we spend two days together in the circle with a group that is well attuned, at least it goes forward by three steps. To music of whales and water tones, we sink deep into the collective field, and each makes his or her own journey. After the personal themes, we touch on collective themes. I can feel so strongly how we as humanity once lost consciousness, were expelled from the Garden of Eden, descended into matter, and entered the world of duality and unconsciousness. We slowly fell into a deep sleep that would last for hundreds, nay, thousands of years. But there is a plan. A Great Plan, which drives everything and which slowly awakens us in this time.
Sometimes people confuse the Divine Plan with a human Plan, as if there is a group of people directing us behind the scenes and pulling the strings. We then suddenly see all the connections, the synchronicity, the miraculous coincidences, but think there is an evil force controlling us. We get caught up in the mirror palace of the ego, which thinks in terms of good and evil, the heroes and the villains. In kabbalah, it is the Daath, the place you come to when you are ready for the next initiation. You get a glimpse of the divine plan, but are still caught up in the dual world. The danger of losing your way here is mortal, because the mirror palace is seductive. You get caught up in the fourth dimension, so to speak, and the battle between light and dark is fought to the hilt here. Until you surrender completely to the divine, and realise that all ghosts and enemies are part of your own growth: indeed, that the so-called darkness is merely there to help you wake up. Because that is the purpose of the story: to wake up from the dream.

During the week in the Azores, I get a glimpse of it, after which the third dimension takes over again, and the clear consciousness disappears again like snow in the sun. But the week is not over yet. I think back to the channelling I received prior to the trip, when I was with Agnes in Amsterdam:


‘When the earth was created, certain basic principles were put in place. There was a group of master builders who created a powerful network of vortexes, ley lines, power places and star gates. First, there was an energetic blueprint of Earth as a paradise planet. That blueprint had to be installed – you could say activated like a software programme – in the planet’s hardware. Once that software was activated, the blueprint of paradise could unfold.
You are at the end of that process of unfolding. Bit by bit, petal by petal, the flower opened until it blossomed fully into the creation you now perceive.

But with every creation there is destruction, with every bloom there is downfall. The petals turn brown and fall, only to prepare the planet for a new awakening. This awakening cannot take place without a process of death and rebirth.

Therefore, in the design of the blueprint of paradise, it was foreseen or programmed that master builders would return to the planet: as light workers, as midwives to help facilitate the process of rebirth. Whenever you come together with a larger group of people to restore the ley lines, the dragon lines, you help to facilitate that process of change and transformation.

The next moment in time will be 13 May, when a powerful shift is possible. With many people taking their place, their position in the earth grid network. Through their consciousness, they are aligning between the elements of earthly paradise and the celestial energies, of other planetary systems connected to the evolution of planet earth and humanity.

So please, as you hear this message, remember your task, your role in the grand scheme of things unfolding. You are needed and your intention and commitment is needed to complete the divine blueprint in accordance with the Masters of Shambala.’

Ton and Agnes Whale House (6 March 2024)


As we sink deeper into the process with our ten companions, synchronicity begins to increase. The altar lying in the center of the circle transforms into a compass: north, east, south, west. I am reminded of the wind rose I saw on the ground in the hotel in Lisbon the night before we left. One participant also saw a compass on top of the mountain at the port of Horta. Not surprising, now that we are here in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. All around us is endless water. Countless sailing ships are anchored here on their journey around the world.

When someone draws a tarot card for the week, the text says, ‘Find your true north, the destination of your soul. ‘Follow it without hesitation.’

After everyone shares their own personal tarotcard and goal, we draw a group card. The card depicts a blue warrior with a large bow and arrow, ready to shoot the arrow at a target. How surprising, all the other cards depict female figures, but our group card is a man. Probably it is time to focus on the masculine energy.
‘I am irresistibly drawn to the volcano on Pico,’ says a woman in the group. ‘The mountain is calling.’ Pico is the opposite island. It is definitely a male mountain, the highest in Portugal, lonely in the middle of the ocean. The summit reaches far above the clouds. It is the only volcano that has not yet exploded.
On Faial, the island where we are staying, the volcano erupted a thousand years ago and left a deep crater, the Caldeira, or “cauldron”. The island is much softer and more feminine than the steep Pico. Mount Pico reminds me of the blue sea god Neptune.
‘Shouldn’t we draw the bow first, before we shoot the arrow,’ someone suggests. ‘Before we go to the mountain of Pico, perhaps we should explore our own island. At the very opposite end, the westernmost tip of Faial is a small, new volcano. The latter erupted underwater in 1957. As a result, new land has been created.’
We decide to take a cab the next day to the tip of the island, which is called Capelinhas. On the way, we’ll first stop at Caldeira, the large crater in the middle of the island. Standing on the edge of the crater, we look into the depths of a large, green basin. The wind is strong, cold and cleansing.

After lunch on the way, we are dropped off at the edge of the new land. It looks like an alien world, with lots of lava, drifting sand and strangely shaped hills. The wind has gained strength and we brave the powerful elements of water, wind, earth and fire.
Our tour ends at a museum underground, where we see a film about the creation of the earth, from the same elemental forces of nature, millions of years ago. Large volcanic eruptions created steam and water, and from the ash and lava the first land arose. We become aware of our own smallness. As the storm outside rages around us, I am aware that earthly forces are so much bigger and stronger than humans. Often we think we are in control of our evolution, but in this fragile, volatile place on earth, the opposite is apparent. Any eruption can simply erase us in a second from the map.

A friend who follows us from home writes, “The place you visit takes me back to the beginning of time. Even before Lemuria… It is a gateway, a passage to the origin, the first Era, when the earth was still called Arda or Erda. Sounds that resonate deep within me bubble up…. I hear the Ainur, who arose from the ‘thoughts’ of Illuvatar…They created the world by using sound. From that sound/music everything was shaped and the world was created. It is the place of the origin … It is about the knowledge of the Eldar and the Valar…the Powers of Arda…. The first earth and forces of creation…”

When we want to go to Pico the next day, the storm has increased to the point that the ferries are not running. There is no more connection between Faial and Pico. We are stuck on the island. There is nothing left for us but to turn our attention inward. “Fortunately,” says one of the participants, “actually I didn’t want to go to Pico at all.” And while forcefully uttering the word Pico, he breaks the talking stick in two. Oops. What is the message here?

As I ponder over the process in silence, I remember my fear of greatness from two days earlier. I wanted to go to the big volcano of Pico, but suddenly realize that the archer’s arrow might not be pointing at the mountain, but at myself. Maybe – instead of the mountain – I should face my own greatness. ‘When Mozes can’t come to the mountain, the mountain comes to Mozes.’ That insight turns the whole process around. I suddenly feel the power flowing through me. As the rest of the group go through their own inner process, guided by the sounds of beautiful whale music, I am aware that my whole life is about awakening. Reminding myself and others of who we really are, remembering the greatness of our soul.

I suddenly remember a science fiction movie where a large mothership flies for many light years through space to finally arrive on another planet to start a new civilization. Just before the final destination is reached, some of the crew members wake up, preparing the ship before all the other passengers wake up from their deep sleep. Isn’t that what we all go through on mothership Earth: a process of awakening before we reach our final destination?

My guides tell me:
“You have reached the point in time in which all movements of humanity, all movements on planet earth, are coming together into one point. One point of consciousness. This is the point of waking up; the point that people realize there is no going further without transformation, without change or there would be global destruction. It is an either/or global crisis you could say; in finances, in nature, in temperature. Crisis has two possibilities: it offers danger or change. This is a great opportunity for all of you, for all of humanity: To make a leap of faith.

You can’t do this on your own. It takes the other to help you out. It asks from you to look beyond duality because your so-called enemy is your helper to move beyond the notion of duality; to become one. You have to realise you are one human race. You are living on one planet, called HOME. You can only move forward as one humanity, coming from one heart, coming from love. You could say that war, hatred and conflict are the result of the dualistic mind, of thinking in either/or, in we or them, in loss or gain. But in reality there is no such thing. It is all part of a greater field of love.

Each of you is challenged to move from this place of love. This asks from you to connect to this greater love through the love for your self. Global transformation in the end is about You. if you cannot move, then nobody can move. You have to see yourself in a greater light and move beyond your own dualistic thinking about yourself. You are not good or bad. You just are LOVE.

Everyone who is called to bring back the soul will move to create the sacred space, this ritual space, where humanity can move from duality to oneness, from suffering to transformation, from darkness to enlightenment. We ask from you to make a jump, a leap of faith.

Believe in yourself. Believe in your greatness. Believe in humanity. Believe you can do it. This belief helps you to overcome all obstacles, and move forward to this next phase of evolution.”


Within the ritual space – the Open Space – everything takes on a deeper meaning. Every detail, every event has multiple layers. ‘Whatever happens is the right thing to happen.’ The group sinks effortlessly into this ‘dreamtime’, and there are moments when we sit for long periods in silent mediation or observation, watching the spectacle unfold before our eyes. The circle of cards becomes a steering wheel of a ship; the blue cloth becomes the ocean; a black stone becomes a whale’s ear; the talking stick broken in two becomes the head and tail of a snake, Rahu and Ketu, or the lunar eclipse and the solar eclipse between which we find ourselves; the black block of the pulpit becomes the Kaba of Mecca, a symbol of the goddess Cybele, etc. Everything takes on meaning, just like in a dream. And in that dream, a story is told that takes us deeper and deeper into dreamtime. It reminds me of a ceremony in which ahayuasca is used as medicine. In that case, it is the plant that turns off the daytime consciousness, revealing and sensing a deeper layer of consciousness. The hardest part is silencing the logic of thought for a period, because the mind doesn’t understand.
‘Could it be that whales always reside in that dream time?’ suggests Anne. ‘As soon as I tune in to them I get so languid and tired, and can’t think clearly. It’s like they drag us down to the bottom of the deep sea. I can only slow down. But in that slowing down, however, all sorts of insights float to the surface.’

When someone in the group tries to lay the altar exactly north-south to match a compass, suddenly the whole magic is disrupted. The spell is broken. We are upset for a moment, until someone interprets the meaning of that too. ‘Isn’t that what has always happened in history? The garden of Eden, Atlantis, Lemuria? The original harmony is broken, man, out of his pride, wants to do better and therefore breaks the beauty of paradise. We want to reach ever better, bigger, higher, but look where it takes us. We are destroying our own habitat…’
We are silent, and in the silence the sadness becomes palpable. The grief of the whales, slaughtered by the millions by science and commerce to serve as cod liver oil or oil to light up cities. Suddenly, human arrogance becomes so palpable. These creatures of the ocean have now been on earth for 40 million years, humans for less than 200,000 years. We feel powerless, helpless and defeated. When we place the ‘whale ear’ in the centre of the circle, a message from the whales comes through. We listen in silence to their story.

‘Everything is in divine order. Don’t worry about your impact, or the smallness of your role. Because in the timeframe of thousands and millions of years it doesn’t really matter. But at the same time everything maters: the smallest details, the smallest steps you make are important in the greater plan of evolution. You are nothing and everything at the same time. So take yourself seriously, in joy, make the next step, accept your greatness. We are the bow, you are the arrow. The goal is the future. Coming here on the Azores, we have been co-crating a collective field of awareness. You and us. Don’t underestimate the power of consciousness that influences many, many souls. It is this power that changes mountains. Stay in the eye of the storm. As a magnet you will attract souls towards stillness and wisdom. We are looking forward to a next gathering on may 13th, to create a ceremony, a song for the earth. Which we can only sing together. “

Later, when we all try to restore the chaos of the twisted altar together, a miraculous transformation takes place. What was previously the black block of the kabaa transforms into the universe. The circle around it becomes an arrangement of the sun, moon, Neptune, Saturn, and all the planets. The circle of 10 chairs turns into a circle of 32 chairs, and suddenly it looks like we are sitting in a huge planetarium, an arrangement of the horoscope of the moment. We sit looking at it in amazement. ‘Expect the unexpected.’ From the personal process, we suddenly find ourselves in a vast cosmic process.

It seems as if the period in which we find ourselves – between the lunar eclipse of 25 March and the solar eclipse of 8 April – is a big black hole, a screen on which human actions suddenly take on greater meaning. But which one?
Anne decides to take on the role of Saturn. The planet represents the stern teacher, the lord of time, the master of karma and unresolved lessons, sometimes depicted by the church as Satan. In reality, however, Saturn points us to our own blind spots. ‘You will not progress unless you listen to me,’ says Saturn. ‘ I have you all in my power.’
Then, however, Neptune comes around the corner, the planet of mysticism, dreams, illusions and spirituality. Saturn recoils. In the ‘dreamtime’ we learn our lessons, and Saturn’s rigidity is softened.
However, we remain stuck in a cosmic wheel of repetition.
Then one of the women steps forward, and with vulnerability and strength, she stands in the middle of the black block in the centre of the altar. From the depths of her being, from the darkness of the earth, comes a roar. Saturn and Neptune move more into the background. We assume our own leadership.
One of the women turns away from the primal roar; another is deeply affected. The cosmic translates into the personal. Each draws his or her lessons from the cosmic constellation. Slowly we reawaken and leave the collective field.

In the evening, we want to watch a nice film to relax, and we decide to put on Walt Disney’s ‘the Little Mermaid’. But even here, the layer of meaning still permeates. We are not yet out of the mythological field. For the mermaid’s father is called Neptune, lord of the ocean, and his seven daughters are like the seven sisters of the Pleiades. One of them falls in love with an earthly prince, and eventually decides to live on land. An ancient myth told around the world turns out to be the basis of the fairy tale of ‘the little mermaid’.