The Lightworker: Awakening

The Lightworker: Awakening

by Tim Drown

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Overview

By all appearances, Jake has a pretty good life. He has the house, the car, a steady job and hopefully, one day - a wife. But somethings just not right. Haunted by a recurring dream, he is beginning to question what his life is really all about.


When an unlikely mentor enters his life, Jake is confronted by painful truths about his life and his tendency to sabotage his own happiness. As he slowly gains more and more insight, Jake falls in love with an amazing young woman who appears to be the partner of his dreams. Yet, just as Jake finds joy, disaster strikes.


Overwhelmed and disillusioned, Jake struggles with the compulsion to throw his new life and everything he has learned away. He searches for the courage and wisdom to pull himself together before it's too late. Despite the tragedy, Jake still feels a deep stirring and discontent with the assumptions and routines of daily life. Will he move forward into the new way of life he's been shown, or fall back to the unfulfilling security of his comfort zone?

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781504302036
Publisher: Balboa Press Australia
Publication date: 07/13/2016
Pages: 212
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.48(d)

Read an Excerpt

The Lightworker Awakening


By Tim Drown

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2016 Tim Drown
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-0203-6


CHAPTER 1

Jake floated weightlessly in the vast and empty space. Cocooned in silent darkness, even his mind ceased its endless chatter, falling unusually still. A profound and familiar sense of peace spread slowly through his entire being, accompanied by a deep and overwhelming feeling that he had finally returned home. His life, and the stress that accompanied it, became a dim and distant memory, one that he had little desire to recall. He wasn't even sure if the life he remembered was actually his. It was then he realised his eyes were closed – their lids relaxed and heavy, and he, blissfully content. Suddenly curious about his surroundings, they lazily flickered open.

Nothing could prepare Jake for the breathtaking scene that greeted him. Curiosity gave way to bewilderment as he found himself effortlessly suspended amidst an endless array of glimmering starts, stretching as far as the eye could see. Constellation blended with constellation and galaxy merged with galaxy as he drifted comfortably at the centre of this great cosmos, gazing into the infinite reaches of outer space. Radiant stars blazed magnificently, celestial bodies passing between them like royal servants traversing worn and ancient paths.

Suspended in this impossible dream, the stars – imbued with a life all their own – greeted him lovingly, purging his heart of its shadows, caressing his soul with their gentle rays. "I have died ..." he whispered as he bathed peacefully in their soft, ancient light, "I must be dead ..." The idea held no fear. He had never imagined it would be like this ... Captivated by their spell-binding beauty, Jake held his breath in awe.

His blissful peace was abruptly shattered by a thunderous explosion that sent him hurtling through space. A terrifying scream burst from his lips, ripping him from his slumber. He leapt out of bed, stumbling to his knees as shock waves shook the ground around him. Tearing off his shirt he flung it to the floor, sweat pouring down his back, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. He knelt beside his bed for what seemed an eternity, lost somewhere between the world of dreams and reality. His mind devoid of thought as he gasped for air until his breathing eventually slowed. Only as his eyes adjusted to the familiar surroundings of his dimly-lit room did the terror begin to subside. Shivering in the cold morning air, he staggered to his feet and collapsed back into the comfort of his bed. His eyes drifted peacefully shut, springing open moments later as lurid scenes from the nightmare filtered through his mind once more.

It was the dream that returned to him relentlessly, haunting him since childhood. Every dream felt like the first, leaving him to wander mindlessly through the subsequent day, lost in an eerie detachment. Life lost all meaning and purpose as he struggled with the strange and uncomfortable feeling that he didn't belong – that this wasn't his life, his body or his home. Today was no different. He could already feel the listless disinterest setting in – a sense of loss, creeping fear and life-sapping emptiness slowly descending upon him like a dark predatory shadow. It was then that he realised he was in bed alone. Dana no longer lay beside him.

He strained his neck to see the time. It was six o'clock. He had grown fond of finding Dana sleeping silently beside him when he awoke. Just the presence of her warm soft body filled him with restful ease. On weekends he would lie and watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, irresistibly fondling her soft brown hair fanned out on the pillow above her head, reverently admiring the delicate curves of her body as she rested peacefully beside him. He would drift into a mild trance as he gazed at the angelic features of her perfectly formed face, until the sound of his own voice murmuring soft adulations, brought him gently back to consciousness.

In these moments, he would wonder how he had ever managed to find himself beside such a beautiful woman. Tears would gather in his eyes as his heart swelled with gratitude. He would eventually drift off to sleep again with much happier dreams of sharing brunch in the morning sunshine. But when Jake awoke this morning, Dana was not beside him.

Pulling a dressing gown around his shoulders, he stumbled over the leather boots carelessly discarded the night before. The room was dark apart from a thin strip of light that glimmered between the door and its frame. Giving only a momentary thought to finding the belt for his gown, he chose instead to let it hang open, revealing his bony and somewhat hairless chest.


Jake emerged from the bedroom in time to hear the distinct click of the front door-latch falling shut, followed by the hollow tap of Dana's heels on the concrete path.

"Where's she going this early?" he wondered aloud in mid-yawn, arms stretching above his head as he gazed around the room. His eyes fell upon a hastily scribbled note, strategically placed in the middle of the kitchen bench. Stiff and blurry-eyed, he hobbled over and squinted at the message written in Dana's familiar scrawl. It read:

"I'm sorry Jake, I can't do this anymore. -Dana."


Jake stared at the note for the briefest of moments as the words worked their way through the machinations of his mind. As the horrifying reality sank in an explosion of adrenalin propelled him into action. He bolted to the front door and fumbled with the locks before bounding out of the villa, almost tearing the flimsy screen door off its hinges. Dana's car roared to life as he raced towards the driveway, the gears grinding as she searched clumsily for reverse. Now truly awake, Jake pursued the car down the driveway and onto the street, arriving at Dana's window in three sizeable leaps just as she paused to shift into first gear.

"Wait!" he cried. Dana's eyes met his and for the briefest of moments she hesitated. Her face filled with pity and sadness, an expression that would embed itself in Jake's memory for years to come.

That moment of hesitation gave Jake the time needed to grab the open window. At the sight of Jake lunging for the car, Dana stamped on the accelerator and the car leapt forward, dragging him sideways. Unprepared for the sudden change of direction, Jake slid and stumbled along the road, desperately gripping the window glass.

"I'm sorry Jake," Dana cried, locking the door and fumbling for the window lever, "It's just not working out."

"What do you mean?" yelled Jake, who, having found his feet, was panting heavily as the car accelerated.

"I need a man, not a boy," she shouted with the kind of raw honesty that only occurs when one has little time to think.


Even if Jake had time to respond, Dana's heart-breaking reply would have rendered him speechless. But he had no time. He was gripping Dana's window by his fingertips, stumbling barefoot down a course bitumen road at a steadily accelerating pace in a dressing gown and pyjamas at six o'clock on a Sunday morning.

Dana arrived at the end of the street with Jake still clinging desperately to the window. Finding the intersection clear, she planted her foot on the accelerator and swung into a left-hand turn like a fighter jet breaking formation. The window tore from his grip, and Jake collapsed in a humiliated heap on the cold, damp road.

All he could do was watch as Dana sped down the street and out of his life. He sat alone in the pre-dawn light, physically unable to move. His heavy breath formed a vaporous mist in the cool morning air as he imagined Dana gazing back piteously from the rear-view mirror. A delayed and involuntary response to Dana's undignified remark erupted from somewhere deep inside. In a desperate and dismal attempt to salvage some pride, Jake raised a fist in the air and cried "you grow up!" His rage echoed through the empty streets as Dana's car finally disappeared into the metropolitan landscape.

Eventually remembering where he sat, Jake clambered stiffly to his feet. Bare-foot and feeling sorry for himself, he gingerly made his way back to his villa as the pain of his futile endeavour set in.

If you were a passer-by that morning – perhaps the old Italian man who had been down to buy his newspaper and now meandered home, pondering the steamy espresso that waited for him – or maybe the family in the Tarago ordering an early breakfast at the drive-thru across the street you could be forgiven for being a little alarmed at the unfolding drama. Sad though it is, they barely glanced in Jake's direction before continuing on their way because everyone, including Jake, knew that much stranger things took place in this neighbourhood.


The Phone Call

Jake took refuge in the shadows, sprawled out in his favourite chair with the curtains tightly drawn, feeling more than a little sorry for himself. The seething rage he felt only served to intensify the relentless pounding in his head. A damp towel lay across his eyes, blocking every trace of light in a vain attempt to hide from the world, but the darkness held little comfort. Rather it tormented him, invading his thoughts, weighing heavily on his heart, painting a bleak and depressing future in which he existed unnoticed and alone.

Beside him a double-shot expresso had long-since gone cold. His body ached from being dragged down the street, attached to the window of Dana's car. But it was the pain of rejection that devastated him, his confidence had been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces yet again. This time he didn't know if he had the strength or desire to pick himself up. Perhaps he would just stay slumped in this chair forever. He could ignore the phone and front door, waste away on the couch, unbothered by the world outside. One day a neighbour would notice a strange smell coming from the house ... The police would be called and people would shake their heads saying "He was such a nice guy, we never saw it coming ..."

"Fuck nice!" he cursed out loud to no one in particular. "Fuck this world and these fucking people!" For a brief moment Jake actually wanted to die – if he'd held a knife in his hand he could easily have plunged it into his chest. Moments later he shuddered at the thought. As enticing as death was, he wasn't sure if he was ready to face it.

Jake often pondered the foolishness of romance, and now that every last trace of love in his life had slipped out the door in the early hours of the morning, he could only sulk in despairing cynicism. He had been left empty and discarded all over again. He didn't understand why it hurt any more. It was becoming an all-too familiar experience.

For the most part, Jake had fumbled his way through life. He lacked the confidence and courage so present in his family members, and unlike them, had little drive or ambition. He was certainly not a risk-taker. But in romance he had discovered moments of meaning and purpose unrivalled by anything else, moments that provided welcome relief from the mediocrity of his life. In those moments he'd sense a glimmer of hope. As he lay in bed with Dana in his arms, her soft, smooth legs wrapped around his, her head resting on his chest, he had dared to believe that he was ok and life could actually be good to him. Yet once more, his hope and security had been snatched away.

He struggled to understand why was he stuck in this painful cycle of relationships. His relationship with Dana was typical. From an awkward, anxious start, he had second-guessed himself all the way through. From their first conversation to first kiss he had doubted himself at every move. Now, just as he was enjoying the confidence and comfort of a sure thing, she left. The relationship had slipped away like sand through his fingers, and he was left a lonely reject.

The rhythmic beat of his mobile ring-tone interrupted his mournful train of thought as the phone vibrated its way across the table. Removing the towel from his eyes he squinted at the caller-id. After a moment of hesitation he thumbed the answer button and raised the phone to his ear.

"Hi Mum." Jake was less than enthusiastic and intentionally melancholy.

"Oh hi Jake, how are you?" As usual she didn't pause for an answer, but launched into a rapid onslaught of words. "I was talking to Phillip and he mentioned he hadn't seen you in a while so I thought I'd check up and see if everything is ok. He's started a second business you know. The first one is virtually running itself and he's making a tremendous amount of money. Once this second business is running he thinks he'll be able to retire. Imagine that – retired at the age of forty!"


Phillip was Jake's elder brother and entrepreneur extraordinaire. He had a knack for business and had sorted out all the family's financial issues, everyone's except Jake's that is. Jake didn't have any financial issues. What he earned, he spent. No issue.

"I know mum, I know. I spoke to him the other day."

"Oh, but he said ... well never mind. I also wanted to tell you about your grandmother."

"Can it wait mum?" Jake moped "I'm really not feeling very well today."

"Oh dear, what's the matter? Are you sick?" Jake paused. Was he sick? Did he bother with truth? Was it worth exposing so fresh a wound when the consequences were so unpredictable? "Sick" was tempting. Jake sighed.

"Dana left me."

"Oh no, not again Jake!"

"It's the first time mum!"

"You know what I mean. That's such a shame dear. She was a nice girl. You shouldn't have let her go. I really hope you settle down and sort out your relationship issues."

"Sure mum. Me too," Jake's tone was more than a little cynical as he rolled his eyes. "You got any advice?"

"You know what your father would say, don't you Jake?" Jake groaned and rolled his eyes again.

"What? Man-up?" His mother paused for a moment.

"No," she said, laughter ringing in her tone, "I was going to say 'the secret to a good marriage is finding the right woman!"

"No kidding!" Jake groaned inwardly. He could see his mother beaming on the other end of the phone. He couldn't believe she still clung to that line after all these years. What was it with his parents? Were they trapped in some alternate reality of their own? Were they truly ignorant of the real world beyond their comfy nest? Or were they actually in love – the kind of love that the forced the rest of the world to revolve around them? Jake shook his head at the thought. He'd never known his mother to stand up for herself. She had never expressed an opinion different to his father's. He'd never heard her talk about what she wanted in life. In fact, he wasn't even sure that she wanted anything. She appeared happy to go to work, dote over her children and follow her husband around.


"But what about you mum?" Jake asked with a degree of reckless abandon. "I mean, what do you want out of your marriage? What do you want out of life? What would you do if you could do anything at all?"

"Oh Jake," she laughed, "don't start this again!"

"Again?" thought Jake, trying to remember the last time he'd challenged his mother about anything.

"That kind of thinking is what gets you into this mess in the first place! You're never quite satisfied with what you've got. You're always asking questions, always looking for something more. You know if you'd just settle down with a good job and stop driving your girlfriends away -"

"Mum ..." interjected Jake

"I have a lovely life," she continued. "I've raised you four kids to be happy and successful. Your father makes a good living and we have a lovely home. We can travel whenever we want to and."

"Mum!" Jake interjected again, more sternly as his frustration rose. "I've worked in the same job for seven years. I'm almost due for long service leave! Before that I went to uni and before that I was at high school. My life is so settled, it's almost boring!"

"Maybe that's why all the girls leave" retorted his mother. There was an awkward silence as Jake swallowed the overwhelming rage simmering within him. His face burned with anger as the awkward silence lingered.

"This conversation isn't very helpful," he muttered eventually through clenched teeth. "What was it you were saying about Gran?"

"Oh, Grandma ..." his mother sounded flustered but quickly regained her composure. "She's going in for some tests and may have to have an operation. It's not too serious but we can't take it lightly – she is quite old and frail now you know."

"I know," Jake breathed wearily Her words barely registered as he focused on containing his anger.

"You really should get in to see her. You haven't seen her for a while now ..."

"Yeah, sure" said Jake "I'll see what I can do."

"No really!" she demanded.

"Mum!" The words came more forcefully than Jake had intended. "I said I'd see what I can do."


(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Lightworker Awakening by Tim Drown. Copyright © 2016 Tim Drown. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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