Mystery of Martha
103 pages
English

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103 pages
English

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Description

Two timelines, one truth . . . Two women, two millennia apart with seemingly unconnected lives - one from the Lake District in England and the other from Bethany in Palestine. Both experience loss and betrayal, which engender feelings of fear and uncertainty about what their future holds.Martha from the Lake District faces challenge and change in 2000 AD as her deepest insecurities are exposed. But supported by her partner Ben, she discovers the mystical Aramaic teachings of Yeshua that offer her a pathway to Self-realisation and freedom.In 30 AD Martha of Bethany has Yeshua as a friend and guide. From a place of tenderness and vulnerability, she witnesses the last three years of his life as he embodies the ultimate mystery and power of love, which inspires her own journey to awakening.These two stories weave together seamlessly until finally they converge in a hauntingly beautiful tale of revelation and redemption.

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Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 28 septembre 2019
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781838599812
Langue English
Poids de l'ouvrage 2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2019 Eliza Harrison
Cover design: Justin Whiteley
Cover drawing: Adrian Neil Taylor
The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781838599812

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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The Mystery of Martha
is dedicated to all those unknown people who seek to change themselves instead of others and thereby raise the consciousness of humanity and bring Light to the world.
Contents
Acknowledgements

The Ocean
The Meeting
Esthwaite Farm
The Olive Grove
Bethania
Shalu
Diverging Paths
Maryam
The Slaughter
The Invitation
Return from Egypt
Sierra Nevada
The Wood
Magdala
New Friends
The Temple
The Friary
Nadab
Realisation
Truth
Reaction
Bethzatha
I Am
New Beginnings
Buttermere
The Crucifix of Love
The Caravan
Shifting Realities
Hannah
At Home
Talitha
A Way of Love
New Direction
Into the Cave
Lack of Trust
Charlotte
Glastonbury
Into the Dark
New Challenges
Death
Rebirth
Salim
Betrayal
Ma'at
Whisperings
To Spain
Sainte Baume
A Change of Heart
Yehudah Ishq'riyot
Plumbing the Depths
Bella
Into Yerusaleim
Ben's Nadir
A Last Supper
The Vigil
Dawn Meditation
The Place of the Skull
Via Dolorosa
The Tomb
Al-Eizariya
The Mystery of Love
Farewell to Bethania
Galilee
Setting Sail
To England
The Blessing
Men an Tol
The Holed Stone
The Isle of Avalon
Tarascon
The Beast
The River
Saint Herbert's Island
Epilogue

About the author
What inspired me to write the book
Acknowledgements
My deepest gratitude goes to Neil Douglas-Klotz for allowing me to use his translations from Aramaic into English of the Peshitta Bible, so pivotal to this story. I am also indebted to Padma Aon who in recent years has been the instigator behind my search and ideas for this book. Thanks too go to my dear friend Rachel Lebus who has supported and encouraged me in countless ways over many years; and to my family and friends who have travelled with me on my journey sharing their love and understanding.

But above all without my brother-in-law Professor Tony Davies, Martha’s story would never have been told. He has guided and steered my course with insight, clarity and gentleness, always encouraging me to delve deeper into mystical truths. And lastly, love and gratitude to my husband David for his unwavering patience, support and understanding while I’ve been writing and researching The Mystery of Martha.
The Ocean
2000 AD
There was not a soul in sight as Joe had gone ahead to check the route. Seeing a shoelace undone, she squatted down to tie it so never saw the rogue wave approaching. Suddenly she was lifted off her feet, engulfed in swirling water and swept off the rocks into the sea.
She flung out her arms attempting to grab onto something… anything, but within moments she was being tumbled in the surf with all sense of direction gone. Emotions flooded through her – terror, bewilderment and a sense of utter hopelessness. All she could see was an explosion of bubbles as round and round she went with no chance to think what to do. Each time she managed to get her head above water, another wave tossed her, obliterating her view of the headland and any chance of reaching it. One moment she was frantically waving her arms in an attempt to attract attention, and the next she was trying to swim to the shore, aware of the risk of currents carrying her further out to sea. But with every move she made, the more exhausted she became and as her strength began to fail, the more alone she felt. Had Joe not seen her? Would he be in time to help? Or was she to be swallowed up by the ocean? Feelings of desolation and despair overwhelmed her. Was this the end? Never to see her children again. Where were they now? She was just a minuscule dot in the vastness of the ocean with no one knowing of her plight.

In one last effort, she took a deep breath, then another, and as she did she felt a shift occur. Instead of resisting, she began to accept her situation and the feeling of panic abated. The word surrender flashed across her mind and she began saying it again and again. She did not know to what or whom, but her fear was replaced by an impulse to survive. She felt looked after, protected and believed that somehow rescue would come. The more deeply she breathed, the more she was able to let herself move with the sea, allowing herself to ride the peaks and troughs and dive through the waves as they broke. Instead of looking for the headland, she turned to the horizon and saw a new series of waves gathering strength that were bigger and more powerful than those before. She watched and waited and when the first one approached, she gave herself up to it allowing its momentum to take her inshore. Within seconds she felt her body being dashed against the rocks.
With all the strength she could muster, she dug her fingertips into any crevice she could find, locked her body against the rock and clung on until the wave withdrew. As the water sucked away, she knew she had little time to act. Without looking back, she pulled herself up the rock face, feeling her skin scrape against its jagged edges each time she moved. And when she reached more level ground, she limped across to the cliff face as fast as she was able. Her goal was a narrow, earthen path that led to the top. Holding on to tufts of grass to help herself up, she reached a sandy hollow and collapsed in exhaustion and relief.

She was alive, she could breathe and the air tasted sweet. The rocks and surf now seemed so far away. All was quiet, with no thought or feeling intruding. There was only spaciousness and peace. Everything around her was bathed in stillness – the stones, each grain of sand and even the ocean itself. And she was a part of it all, connected to the infinite silence from which all activity arose, beyond any boundary of time and space. There was only calm, exquisite beauty and a deep welling up of love.
She had no idea how long she lay there before she saw Joe peering down at her. He looked pale and in shock.
‘I’m alright,’ she reassured him.
‘I never realised. One moment you were there and the next you’d gone. I saw the wave but I was near the cliff so it never got me.’
He took her hand to help her up, wincing when he saw her body covered in blood from cuts and lacerations.
‘I don’t feel any pain,’ she said quickly.
‘We’ll have to get you patched up. Can you get on my back?’
Joe was lithe and strong, used to gathering sheep and handling stone. But as she straddled her legs around his back and arms around his neck, it felt strange to feel his skin against hers. How long had it been since they had been intimate together? Her wounds stung so it was a relief to get to the beach. Sunbathers and swimmers quickly gathered around, concerned by the spectacle of two figures covered in blood.
‘It’s my wife who needs help,’ Joe said quickly.
It was evening when Martha left hospital stitched and bandaged with a warning that she might be left with some minor scars. But her face was unscathed and she felt only gratitude that she had survived. Over the next few days she encouraged Joe to go off and explore the island, while she rested in the shade of an olive tree. She sensed that change was afoot and was being granted this time for a reason.
The Meeting
Martha had hoped a week away would bring her closer to Joe. They had made a habit of going on holiday in winter when the farm was quiet. This time it was the island of Lanzarote that drew them, where she could swim and Joe could try out new climbing routes. All she had wanted was to lie on the sand, feel its warmth and allow the turmoil of her mind to quieten. Hosting guests, helping on the farm and coping with inclement weather had become the entire focus of her life. By the time they arrived home, the cuts and abrasions were beginning to heal, but tension in her back was locking up her neck. She kept telling herself the pain would pass, but instead it became more acute so called a friend for help.
‘I know a therapist who’ll sort you out. He’s skilled and sensitive and good at releasing tension.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Ben Richardson. He runs his practice from Portinscale so you don’t have far to go.’
As Martha sat in the waiting room admiring the lights on the Christmas tree, she overheard a low, resonant voice saying: ‘I can’t see her now… there’s no

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