Music and its Interplay
with the Unseen Worlds

For several years I have had the blessing of my good friend Daria Sommer (who is a clairvoyant medium) joining many of my offers and sharing with me and the group her perceptions of the unseen world and how they are attracted to our dimension when we make music from the heart. My apprentice Carolin found these stories so intriguing and powerful that we dreamt up a project of collecting such stories where the invisible world reaches into our everyday life through music.

The book is currently in its first stages of creation. It will be a collection of stories in which people share their encounters and perceptions made with the unseen world and the intention of the book is to open our hearts and minds to the co-creation and co-existence of these seen and unseen realms to invite us to build bridges of perception and appreciation.

If you resonate with the project and have a story to tell, please don’t hesitate to contact us so that we can hear your story and include it in the book if you would like to.

Please find here a first story from the book:

Gnome story by Mish Crouan

Eighteen months ago my partner, June, and I were allocated a small allotment which we love very much and named 'Little Gaia.' We tend Little Gaia according to the founding principles of Findhorn, especially that concerning co-creation with the intelligence of nature and although neither of us could ever be called a singer, we do like to sing to our beloved plot.

One day last summer I was on my hands and knees transplanting some Dwarf French Bean plants from their pots to the raised bed in which they were to continue growing. It was a warm, sunny morning and I was feeling happy and full of gratitude. As I handled each little plant and tucked it into the soil I sang to them one of my favourite songs, 'Through The Eyes Of Love.' A few bean plants and verses in and I became aware of a pair of muddy wellington boots standing on the other side of the vegetable bed. Looking up as discreetly as I could I saw that the boots were filled by a male figure, about a meter tall, strongly yet softly built and wearing work trousers, shirt and hat. His clothes, like his boots, showed that he had been working with the earth and there was a distinct smudge of soil across his face. I found that I was looking at a gnome and he was looking directly at me. He was listening intently.

I sensed a shyness about the gnome and when I finished the song I asked if he would like me to sing it to him. He did not speak, but as he looked at me big tears formed in his eyes and flowed quietly and steadily as I looked at him and sang,

'Through the eyes of love, You are perfect.

Through the eyes of love, You are free.
Through the eyes of love, You are innocent.

I am you, and you are me.'

I had the impression that the gnome was so used to humans seeing him and his kind as being silly or demonic that he was overwhelmed to have such a beautiful song sung to him. A song that recognised his true nature and the deep connection between us all.
 

As I continued singing the song other gnomes began to emerge at points around the bean bed. Two or three more stayed further away amongst the broad beans and calendulas. Drawn to the song and what was happening, they were, understandably, hesitant about trusting the integrity of this human.

I finished singing and planting, the gnomes went back to their work and although I did not see them again until Winter Solstice, when June and I went to sing our gratitude and welcome the return of the light, we are both often aware of their presence in Little Gaia. I am learning many lessons through my time there, including the fundamental one of consciously singing our sacred songs to all beings. They help to heal wounds, build bridges and their messages are relevant to us all, no matter what form we take.