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The foundation of Morning Star , Legends of the Sacred Cups is my own spiritual journey, which I will describe here.
            — Carolyn Cobelo

            I spent my early childhood in Bangor, Maine, a small city near the coast. I loved to draw and ride horses, play in the wildlife sanctuary near my house; catch crabs and swim in the cold ocean waters of Hancock Point; and make mossy homes for frogs and tadpoles. Later, I expanded into building teepees and tree houses, horseback riding, and writing short stories. The biggest turning point in my young life was leaving behind my best friend when we moved in the middle of fourth grade from Maine to New Hampshire.

            My family belonged to the Unitarian Church, where I learned about humanitarian service, stories of the Bible and the work of the great prophet, Jesus. There was no mention of God as a superior being or the divinity of Jesus. I remember one Sunday I drew a bright sun with crayons and my teacher responded with a big smile, “Yes! God is nature.” I can still see that sun in my mind’s eye. I also remember a unique feeling of familiarity and warmth, when I played the role of Mother Mary in the Christmas pageant.

            One day in my early twenties I was peacefully reading a book by Lobsang Rampa about the magic of Eastern spirituality, while my three-month-old daughter slept on my lap. A strange hunger and a flash of recognition surged through my body, igniting a deep spiritual longing. Another lightening bolt hit when a friend read me excerpts from Ram Dass’s book, “Be Here Now”, which had just been published. The recognition of the truth in his words brought a flood of tears welling up from an unknown part of myself.  

            The next step along my spiritual path was a big one. I was studying Gestalt Therapy while finishing a master’s degree in clinical social work. My Gestalt teacher introduced me to his guru, Swami Muktananda, in 1978.  As was the custom, I knelt down in front of the Swami, who touched me on my head with a wand of peacock feathers. When I looked up, I could see nothing but red-orange light. A few weeks later, I dreamed of sitting on Muktananda’s lap while he breathed into my mouth.  I also had a dream that my whole body burned with red-orange energy, which I mistakenly thought was a huge orgasm. I subsequently learned that these experiences are classic forms of a Hindu initiation called “Shaktipat”.

            After studying with Muktananda for several years, I discovered that I could transfer healing energy. I was leading one of my chronic pain patients into a hypnotic trance by putting my hand on her shoulder. I felt heat running through my arm into her body. When she came out of the trance, she told me that she had seen a shimmering blue light and that her pain had disappeared.  Several months later I attended the funeral in Rome. An elderly woman came up to me at the wake and told me that she saw light coming out of my fingers. She recommended that I become a healer. As soon as I came home to New York City, I found a class in Laying on of Hands.

            I studied Laying on of Hands and channeling for two years and then began to integrate this into my transpersonal psychology practice. My first professional healing took place during another visit to Rome. I worked for an hour with a bedridden man who had severe liver cancer. To my amazement, when I completed the healing, he got up out of bed and walked out to the hall to talk with his friends. He died a month later but the effect of the healing was clear to all of us.

            My Third Eye opened gradually, revealing an amazing new world of subtle lights and sound. I saw multi-colored rays of light move in and out of people. I heard chants from other cultures and spoke in strange languages. I witnessed psychic operations and watched many scenes from my own and others’ past lives. Visions of deities, angels, spirit guides and extra-terrestrials flowed through my mind in meditation and healing sessions. I learned to augment healing light and to recognize and disengage from negative entities and black light.

            I remember an incident early in my practice I was working with a young woman who had been abused by her mother. When I laid my hands on her upper chest and back, black light oozed out of her chest. The force of the negativity was so strong I had to step away from her to avoid its impact. This woman’s life changed radically after this session.
My first spirit guide was Zarathrustra, the founder of the Zoroastrian religion. He was tall and wore a pill hat and long robe. When he finally revealed his face to me, I saw that he had bright blue eyes. He became a spiritual father to me, teaching me about unconditional love and healing my wounds related to the masculine. He taught me chants and dances, which I incorporated into my workshops and training programs.

            I channeled Zarathrustra for about five years and then a feminine guide appeared. When I finally asked what her name was, she said she was Mary. I asked her if she was the mother of Jesus and she said “yes”. I was so awed by this that I told no one her name for a long time. I have since come to know her intimately and to channeling her messages and her healing light.

            Around the time I became conscious of Mary’s presence, I began to travel with my husband, Esteban, to sacred sites around the world. With Mary’s help I released negative layers of energy, primarily fear and pain, that remained in these places. This was a form of global acupuncture.

            A few years later I started leading pilgrimages to these sacred sites to stimulate personal healing and spiritual awakening in others. We communed with the megalithic stones of Britanny, celebrated with the earth spirits of Glastonbury, danced with Incas in Macchu Picchu and talked to the wise ones in Jerusalem and Egypt. These experiences opened me more to the reality of the multi-dimensional world we live in. My books, The Spring of Hope, Messages from Mary and The Power of Sacred Space, Exploring Ancient Ceremonial Sites contain lectures and knowledge that I gained in my travels.

            In March 1998 Esteban and I were visiting Spain to look for possible places to have a second home. We stopped for coffee on the road between Valencia and Granada. Soon after this, Esteban fell asleep when he was driving and we swerved off the road into a metal fence. One and one-half hours later he died from internal injuries in a small local hospital. If he had turned the car the other way when we hit the fence, I would be the one on the Other Side.

            I was so grateful for my ability to connect to the spirit world just after he died. I insisted in staying with his body as long as I could. I asked him telepathically why he did not come back when I put my hands on him in the operating room. He said it was just too painful to return to his body. He told me what kind of funeral ceremonies he wanted and who he wanted and did not want there. I brought him to meet the spirit of Mary, which he at first resisted. I saw that ahead of him were two bright lights, one more luminous than the other. I told him that I thought the brightest light was for spiritual masters but that he could go to the other light. He was afraid.  I reminded him of an LSD experience he had when he could feel the oneness of everything. He moved toward the light, facing me. His body was transparent. He moved back and forth into the light and then faded into it. It was a sad but joyful moment for me.

            I was terrified to go to sleep because I thought we would lose our connection. I had a hotel room with twin beds. Just before I succumbed to sleep, I looked over at the other bed. He was there, floating, stiff as a board, just above the bedspread. He had on the clothes he was wearing when we had the accident. I knew how hard it was for him to come down into this dimension and I understood he did it to help me.

            The months following Esteban’s death were excruciatingly painful for me. I felt like I lost half of myself and that I had no skin to protect me. I seldom left my house and. I listened only to one CD by Sarah Mac Laughlan. The song, “In the Arms of an Angel” was a great comfort for me. I tried every healing modality I could find to ease the pain. I slept with  Esteban’s shirt for three months and finally burned it in a ceremonial fire. I practiced Raymond Moody’s mirror communication and I saw Esteban digging a hole in the ground with a shovel. I took this as a sign to bury something that was precious to him. I hope his ceremonial hunting knife is still in the ground where I left it.

            Slowly, the pain lessened and I grew stronger, but I had lost my interest in my professional work.  I turned to creativity as a healing modality, which turned out to be a very positive step. Within two years I became a sculptor, game designer/producer and author of five books.

            My first project was to create sculptures which expressed messages from the spirit world. I first attuned to Esteban’s spirit and asked him to show me what his life, death and after death experience was. He guided my hands as I formed the images he expressed in clay. I then made similar sculptures with the spirits of my grandparents, learning much more about them than I knew in our Earthly life together. I decided to cast them in bronze. I cried all the way to the foundry, because I felt I was taking them to be cremated.

            I traveled each week to the hot springs of Ojo Caliente and the Sanctuary of Chimayo. Although there are mixed opinions about the healing power of the sanctuary, I found that each time I went there I felt significantly better. I sat in the pews near the altar, asking for guidance about a non-competitive spiritual board game I was creating. I channeled the design of this game, Avalon, Temple of Connection, in this chapel.

            I found writing to be therapeutic because I connected telepathically to healing power of the sacred places in my books. When other people read the books or play the game, they also connect to the power and wisdom of these places.

            About four years ago I began writing a film script, set in Bali, about a mysterious stone head that has the capacity to give and take life. I found it fascinating to combine my spiritual knowledge with a fictional story. Two years ago I put that script away and started to write Morning Star , Legends of the Sacred Cups.  To my surprise, when I reread my first script, I discovered that I had been writing about the same characters in the second script. So, this script has become the sequel to this one.

            It has been a long journey since Mutananda gave me “Shaktipat” with the peacock feathers in 1978.  I am grateful that Morning Star , Legends of the Sacred Cups gives me an opportunity to share the magic and mystery I have experienced in my own life.