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The Twelve Attunements
The Twelve Attunements
The Twelve Attunements
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The Twelve Attunements

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When young journalist Sophie Archer discovers that a secret group of global elites is trying to control the world, she sets out to inform the public. But the conspiracy is bigger than she suspects, and she is launched on a cosmic journey with two bizarre friends.

As she encounters UFOs, higher-vibrational beings, inter-dimensional aliens, and an all-encompassing awareness, she learns that humanity is only a fraction of a vast, universal society. She becomes part of a collective of beings who have chosen to help take power back from the global elites and transform the world.

Mind-expanding, hilarious, and suspiciously similar to real-life, The Twelve Attunements will introduce you to ideas about metaphysics, consciousness, and spiritual awakening in entertaining and easy-to-understand ways. As you follow the colourful characters on their conspiracy-fuelled quest, you will also be subtly guided along your own journey of transformation.

“This book is conspiracy fiction at its best. With blends of spirituality, geopolitics and fantasy, it is sure to tickle your literary taste buds.” - The Conspiracy Review

“Like Star Wars meets The Celestine Prophecy.” - Need 2 Read Books

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 2, 2012
ISBN9781301388097
The Twelve Attunements
Author

Cassandra Sturdy

I’m an Australian author and transformational coach who is passionate about spiritual awakening and global transformation. My writing blends ideas about metaphysics, conspiracy theories, consciousness, spiritual awakening, and self-empowerment into action-packed, entertaining adventures. My non-fiction and courses further explore some of these topics.I have a degree in journalism and a background in mainstream media. I’m passionate about storytelling and have studied story design with Pixar and Robert McKee. I have more than seven years of experience as a transformational coach and I’m certified in a number of transformational and metaphysical practices, including Master Practitioner of NLP, Results Acceleration Master Coach, NLP Trainer, First Degree Priestess, Core Shamanism, Reiki, and Hypnosis.I live in Perth, Australia, with my son, Patrick, and my cat, Monkey.

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    The Twelve Attunements - Cassandra Sturdy

    The Twelve Attunements

    Cassandra Sturdy

    All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

    Copyright © 2012, 2013, 2015, 2016 by Cassandra Sturdy

    First published 2012

    Revised 2013, 2015, 2016

    Cover art and design by Aurelien Pumayana Floret, www.pumayana.com

    Character illustrations by Xilveroxas, www.xilveroxas.deviantart.com

    Cover layout and interior formatting by Penoaks Publishing, http://penoaks.com

    Cassandra Sturdy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

    All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

    ISBN-13: 978-1479107742

    ISBN-10: 1479107743

    www.cassandrasturdy.com

    For Granpa, who was an eccentric philosopher who loved to look at the stars, who never took life too seriously, and who encouraged me to write.

    Acknowledgements

    My love and gratitude go to everyone who has helped or supported me to create this book over the years in all of its various evolving forms. To my sister Naomi, thank you for sharing the vision with me and, of course, for helping me to lay the foundation for the artwork that exists today. To Mum and Dad, for your ongoing love and support. To Bean, for believing in the story when I didn’t, for convincing me to keep going when I would have given up, and for the proof reading and corrections. To Barbara, for your excellent editing skills and for answering all my silly questions. Thanks to you, I finally have a sense of completion with this book. To Alf, for letting me focus on the work. To my spirit guides, for helping me learn to believe in myself and in my creative skills. To Brook, for the brilliant cover image you created for the first edition. To Frank, for feedback, typesetting, and formatting. To David, Lizzy, and Tim, for feedback and corrections. To Angie and That Guy, for your help with the cover layout for the previous editions. To Aurel, for the new, beautiful visionary art cover. To Xilveroxas, for the new character illustrations. To Rachel and the team at Penoaks, for your help with the formatting.

    And a special nod of thanks to Joseph Campbell, Christopher Howard, Duane Elgin, Brian Swimme, David Icke, Terrence McKenna, Rupert Sheldrake, Alex Grey, and Alfred Lambremont Webre for inspiring me.

    About the Author

    Cassandra Sturdy is an Australian author and transformational coach. Her writing blends ideas about metaphysics, conspiracy theories, consciousness, spiritual awakening, and self-empowerment into action-packed, entertaining adventures. Her non-fiction and courses further explore some of these topics.

    Cassandra has a degree in journalism and a background in mainstream media. She is passionate about storytelling and has studied story design with Pixar and Robert McKee. She has more than seven years of experience as a transformational coach and is certified in a number of transformational and metaphysical practices, including Master Practitioner of NLP, Results Acceleration Master Coach, NLP Trainer, First Degree Priestess, Core Shamanism, Reiki, and Hypnosis. She lives in Perth, Australia, with her son, Patrick, and her cat, Monkey.

    New messages, new perceptions of ourselves, of the world, and of life, will inspire us to the new behaviour now needed to head humanity in a direction that honours life, love, and peace, leading to a sustainable existence on planet Earth.

    - John Raatz

    Table of Contents

    Prologue

    Chapter One: The UFO

    Chapter Two: The Arcturian Stargate

    Chapter Three: The Low Frequency Field

    Chapter Four: The Holographic Drive

    Chapter Five: The Twelve Attunements

    Chapter Six: Maintaining Control

    Chapter Seven: The Gaian Rebels

    Chapter Eight: Chi-Quan

    Chapter Nine: The RFID

    Chapter Ten: When LVBs Attack

    Chapter Eleven: Intergalactic Activators

    Chapter Twelve: One World Currency

    Chapter Thirteen: The Eccentric Shaman

    Chapter Fourteen: Plant Teachings

    Chapter Fifteen: The Fallen Angel

    Chapter Sixteen: The Handover

    Chapter Seventeen: Moldavite

    Chapter Eighteen: In the Akashic Library

    Chapter Nineteen: The Last Grey

    Chapter Twenty: Resonance Frequency

    Prologue

    This may come as a surprise, but the universe you live in is just one of many. So many in fact, it’s pointless telling you the exact number. Because it is simply unfathomable. They grow in little dome-shaped holders that sit on mantelpieces in offices that belong to transcendental beings. The transcendental beings grow the universes from scratch and guide them along, doing all sorts of fancy things to them and helping them unfold out of nothing into everything. Not only does this involve transforming quantum dust into matter and spirit, but it also involves guiding and overseeing every single soul in each universe to its full ascension, something that can take a soul many lifetimes to achieve.

    One of the transcendental beings who do this is called El-Quan-Tem. While you don’t really need to know what El-Quan-Tem looks like, given he’s a transcendental being, you’re probably a little bit curious, so I’ll just give you a quick description.

    Compared to other beings in his reality, El-Quan-Tem is small and short. He has shoulder-length white hair that ebbs and flows out of his head in spindly tubes of light, sparkling blue eyes (they quite literally sparkle), and skin that, when you look at it close up, has billions of tiny pixels dancing all over it, making a shimmery haze all around him. El-Quan-Tem is fairly old in transcendental terms, although it’s pointless to tell you his exact age because that is as unfathomable as the number of universes there are.

    El-Quan-Tem likes to wear a flowing turquoise suit with a long tail coat and dangling sleeves. But his clothes aren’t made from fabric like yours are; they’re made from light. That’s because El-Quan-Tem is himself a manifestation of pure quantum potentiality at the highest vibration possible. Something to aim for, I suppose.

    Given his profession, you’d think that El-Quan-Tem’s office might be somewhat swish, with things like star-encrusted drinks bars and supernova-laced coffee machines in it. But it’s actually quite plain and contains nothing more than a small desk, some bookcases crammed with old manuals, some shelves cluttered with models of colourful planets, and a cupboard filled with universe crafting apparatus (things like energy spinners, Akashic combiners, and quantum suffusers). Oh, and there’s the mantelpiece, too. That’s where El-Quan-Tem keeps the current batch of universes he’s working on.

    El-Quan-Tem’s official job title is Universe Crafter. Throughout his career (so far), El-Quan-Tem has successfully crafted hundreds of universes out of quantum dust into pure quantum light, which is no easy achievement, even for a transcendental being. Most of the beings in El-Quan-Tem’s realm have no idea of the amount of hard work involved in universe crafting. They think it’s just a case of sprinkling a bit of quantum dust into a dome, adding the appropriate mixer, giving it a quick shake, and voilà—all El-Quan-Tem has to do is sit back and watch as a universe transforms by itself into twinkling stars and swirling worlds. But it is far more complicated than that.

    For starters, El-Quan-Tem needs to know more universe crafting theory than you could shake a galaxy at. From metaphysics to multidimensional reality, and from the creation of single-celled organisms to advanced planetary algorithms, El-Quan-Tem is expected to know it all. Even then, there’s no guarantee his universes will succeed.

    That’s because, nine times out of ten, the souls he is guiding in each universe will go and do the complete opposite of what he wants them to do. El-Quan-Tem can craft an energetic path for the souls that’s so astoundingly clear and well-defined it may as well flash with neon-pink signs that say, Your Ascension: This way, and the souls will still ignore it and veer off on mostly pointless tangents.

    That’s because whether or not the souls choose to ascend and how long they take to do so is their choice, and their choice alone. It can get more than a little frustrating for El-Quan-Tem and the other universe crafters as the souls keep going around in circles. The souls blame the universe crafters for this, of course—either that, or they just ignore them completely. In the end, you see, there is only so much a universe crafter can do.

    Take the last batch of universes El-Quan-Tem crafted. There’s always nine universes in every batch: obsidian black, ruby red, amber orange, topaz yellow, tourmaline green, azurite blue, amethyst violet, jade purple, and opal white.

    El-Quan-Tem started this batch off like any other. He placed the dome-shaped holders out along the mantelpiece and got the pots of quantum dust out of the cupboard. He sprinkled the required amount of quantum dust into each of the holders and added the appropriate mixers. Fairly soon, each universe exploded into life. They were forming nicely and there was nothing to suggest that this particular batch was going to pose El-Quan-Tem any problems at all.

    That was when he noticed something was wrong with the opal white universe.

    Sigh. El-Quan-Tem had done everything by the book. He’d added the same ratio of water to quantum dust (the universe crafters always use water as the mixer for the opal whites) and left it to settle as the first stars and planets started bursting out. El-Quan-Tem had coded the DNA sequences through (not too fast, not too slow) and set all the proper geometrics in order. Then it had been time to begin the soul ascensions, so El-Quan-Tem employed all the necessary crafting techniques to enable each soul to raise its vibration and transform itself over its many different lifetimes.

    That was when he noticed that several planets in the opal white universe weren’t activating like they were supposed to. Activating, by the way, is when a planet that is home to intelligent life attunes itself to a higher vibration. The intelligent life living there is then able to become aware of other planets of intelligent life that are also attuned to that same vibration. It’s how a universe awakens to itself. Without activating planets, a universe stagnates and the souls inside it can’t continue their ascensions.

    El-Quan-Tem didn’t know what to do. Unless he could fix the problem soon, the problematic planets in his opal white universe ran the risk of holding up the entire batch.

    It was in that moment that there was a knock at the door, and in walked El-Cos-Mol, a transcendental being who worked in the office next door to El-Quan-Tem. You don’t really need to know what El-Cos-Mol looks like, either, though you might be interested, so I’ll just give you a quick description of him.

    El-Cos-Mol has fuzzy golden hair and bright green eyes. He’s a bit younger than El-Quan-Tem (in transcendental terms), but again, there’s really not much point going into it. El-Cos-Mol is skinny and wears a long purple jacket with a huge collar, a frilly white shirt, and very tight trousers.

    Hello! said El-Quan-Tem, glad for the interruption.

    Greetings, said El-Cos-Mol, waltzing in with a glittery opal white universe cupped between his hands. I’m having some problems with the planet Earth in my opal white, he said, setting the universe down on El-Quan-Tem’s desk. I just can’t seem to get it to activate, he said. Any ideas, old boy?

    Well, El-Quan-Tem nearly fell off his chair. Earth happened to be one of the planets he was having trouble with in his opal white universe, too. Every opal white universe the crafters create has the same overall design, so there’s always a planet Earth in each one and it’s always in the same place. If you look at the top right of any opal white universe, you’ll find the Virgo Supercluster. Zoom down through that until you get to the Local Group, then zoom down through that until you get to the galaxy, just left of the centre. That’s the Milky Way. In the Milky Way, there’s a star in grid reference OW87/OW23. Earth is always the third planet out from that star.

    Deciding that two heads were better than one, the two transcendental beings set their opal white universes down next to each other, got to brainstorming, and came up with a plan. Whipping out El-Quan-Tem’s energy spinners, they crafted a wormhole from the upper layers of the atmosphere of Earth in El-Cos-Mol’s universe to the upper layers of the atmosphere of Earth in El-Quan-Tem’s universe. The wormhole linked them together. The idea was that humans from both planets would make contact and assist one another with their activation.

    Genius. Or so the universe crafters thought. But the wormhole actually made things worse. El-Quan-Tem and El-Cos-Mol were beside themselves. Having exhausted every single crafting technique available, they were left with no choice. They would have to throw their opal white universes away and start again. That meant that every single soul in each universe would have to begin its ascension all over again, too.

    It was in that precise moment that they noticed a human being on the planet Earth in El-Quan-Tem’s universe. Her name was Sophie Archer.

    Chapter One

    The UFO

    It was a Friday afternoon in mid-November, and grey clouds were hanging over the city of Melbourne, blurring the tops of the skyscrapers into the dull sky. Sophie Archer was sitting at her desk, which was located on the twelfth floor of the offices of The Melbourne Star, a popular tabloid newspaper that had a reputation for printing everything except the news. She glanced around the office. Everything was exactly the same as it always was. There was nothing to suggest that anything out of the ordinary was about to happen.

    Sophie’s colleagues had the usual vacant expressions glazed across their faces as they tapped and clicked away at their computers like zombies. News of doom and gloom was blaring out of every one of the six television screens that loomed over the newsroom floor, and the clock was taking just as long as it always did to tick to 5 p.m.

    Sophie sighed. Aside from the usual restlessness that comes with being stuck in the office on a Friday afternoon, she was feeling anxious about a story she’d handed in earlier that day. The editor had asked her to write a political piece on Rod Morgan, a candidate running for prime minister in the upcoming Australian federal election.

    A front page piece. Sophie had felt privileged to write it, particularly because she had only been working at the newspaper for six months. She’d worked incredibly hard on the piece, staying up until the early hours of the morning for two weeks, rewriting and rewriting again until it was perfect.

    But it wasn’t the writing Sophie was anxious about; it was the angle she’d taken. After much research, Sophie had concluded that not only could Rod Morgan not be trusted, but that he was part of a secret group of global elite that included bankers, CEO’s of major corporations, royal families, and other politicians, all of whom had joined forces to control the world from behind the scenes. They would stop at nothing less than total global domination.

    She knew this sounded far-fetched, but after much research and late nights surfing the Internet in her one-bedroom apartment, Sophie had found out (and it wasn’t that well hidden) that this ruthless bunch were holding meetings two to three times a year in secret locations, the doors to which were always closed, and the minutes and records to which were always encrypted. Sophie wondered what were they talking about and why they were keeping it so secret from the general public.

    And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Sophie had found out all sorts of questionable things about this group, like how they were flooding third world countries with mountains of debt, rigging elections, manipulating the global economy, and rolling out plans to set up a one-world government called The New World Order. Sophie knew it had been a risk to take the angle she’d taken. It wasn’t the sort of thing The Melbourne Star normally published, but people deserved to know the truth. Besides, it was about time the newspaper published some real journalism instead of the usual drivel.

    Sophie Archer, was twenty-six years old and had wavy caramel hair that fell down past her shoulders, blue-green eyes, and a warm smile. Not the sort of person to go in for things like fashion or brand names, she usually wore blue jeans, a T-shirt (often with a slogan on it), and an old pair of black and white runners.

    After she had finished high school, she had spent some time searching for something meaningful to do with her life, a job where she could make a difference. NGO’s, charity work, teaching—Sophie had considered everything, trying this and that, but no matter what she’d come across, nothing seemed to ignite her inner spark or give her the sense of purpose and belonging she was looking for.

    And so it was that Sophie had turned to journalism. At least that way, she’d thought, she could write about things that mattered, get the truth out, and shape the world. Upon finishing her degree and getting a job as a journalist, however, she had come to realise that the things that mattered weren’t always top priority in the mainstream media.

    Instead, Globe-Net (the corporation that owned The Melbourne Star and most of the other mainstream newspapers around the world) preferred to run with the latest celebrity scandals, sensational sports hype, and anything else that suggested the world was superficial and hopeless. Day after day, the news never really changed. The stock markets went up and the stock markets went down, another famous person hit the front page for another scandal with no bearing whatsoever on anybody’s life, and another footballer disgraced himself. Journalism like this was hardly the meaningful career Sophie had envisioned. She even had a sneaking suspicion that if they just printed the same newspaper everyday and changed the names nobody would actually notice.

    We’re doing the best we can, a charming voice said from the television, to make sure our citizens keep living the way they’re accustomed to.

    Sophie looked up to see President Fox Rockenfeld’s handsome face staring out from every screen around the newsroom. With dark brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, and a chiselled movie-star jaw line, Fox Rockenfeld was widely regarded as being not only the most popular American president of all time, but also the best looking. He had an annoying habit of acting like he also knew this, Sophie thought. He was forever parading around in stylish, tailor-made suits and dark sunglasses, as if he thought himself more rock star than politician. And judging by the way he was posing smugly in front of the television cameras now, today was no exception.

    Rockenfeld was standing on the tarmac in front of an aircraft hangar at Area 51, the military base in Nevada where he liked to spend most of his free time testing military aircraft. (He also happened to be a qualified test pilot.) He was dressed in his Air Force One jacket, jeans and dark sunglasses. A journalist was holding a microphone under his chin, asking him questions about a new Internet threat and intelligence warnings.

    Sophie leant forwards, trying to catch Rockenfeld’s response, but just as he started to speak, someone yelled her name across the newsroom floor.

    Archer!

    Sophie turned around. The editor, an older man with grey hair and rubbery skin, was standing outside his office door pointing a piece of rolled-up paper at her like a baseball bat. Get in here, he yelled. Now!

    Sophie walked across the office floor, already regretting she’d handed the story in. Why had she been so stupid as to think he might actually consider it?

    Not one of her colleagues looked up to see what all the fuss was about. They were all too busy staring into their computer screens. As a consequence, no one paid much attention to the next news report, either, not even Sophie. Like the rest of the news, it wasn’t particularly factual. Yet nobody (not even the journalists) would have been able to guess its full implications and what it heralded for the world.

    A friendly-looking journalist was standing in front of a model of a big, yellow banana, describing how someone had sighted a UFO in the tourist town of Coffs Harbour on the East Coast of Australia earlier that day.

    Ray and Dave, a couple of Coffs Harbour locals with wild beards and tatty T-shirts, had been wandering past the Big Banana on their way back from the pub when a large, silver, disc-shaped object had whooshed down from the sky and stopped above the famous tourist attraction. It had hovered there for a few seconds, then flown off.

    Perhaps the aliens were doing a sight-seeing tour of the East Coast? the reporter joked after Ray and Dave finished retelling their story (in a slightly drunken manner). The news reader in the studio thought the whole thing was hilarious and commented that perhaps Ray and Dave had just drunk one too many. Then the news reader moved on to the next story: new fears about another global economic meltdown.

    Sophie smiled timidly as she walked past the editor into his office, a dull place filled with celebrity gossip magazines and half-eaten doughnuts. The editor slammed the door shut behind her, walked over to his desk, and sat down in his leather chair. Still armed with the rolled-up paper, he stared fiercely at her.

    Realising it was her article, Sophie took a deep breath and sat down in the chair opposite him. She waited for him to speak.

    I’m not even going to tell you why this won’t go into print, he said, waving the rolled-up paper at Sophie in a threatening gesture. He tossed it across his desk like a piece of rubbish. Rewrite it and have it back on my desk before you go home tonight.

    Wondering if there was any point trying to argue with him, she picked it up. Don’t you think we should be telling the public about this? She had always thought this was the point of journalism. Unless she had missed something somewhere along the line.

    Sighing, the editor picked up the nearest doughnut and took a bite as he considered Sophie’s question.

    She glanced over his shoulder and out his office window at the grey buildings that rose up through the city like tombstones. She could also hear the cars beeping impatiently in the smog-filled streets down below. And she suddenly remembered a dream she’d had the night before. A bizarre abstract being made of golden light with crackling dreadlocks and a sparkling cloak had appeared and introduced himself as Apex. It was one of those dreams where you think you’re awake, but then you wake up and realise you must have been asleep. She could only remember bits of it now, but she was sure Apex had asked her to prepare for something. A journey of—what had he called it? Awakening? And something about trusting in El-Quan-Tem? Whatever that meant.

    A bright light flashed between two of the buildings outside. Sophie blinked. What was that?

    This newspaper, the editor was saying, his mouth full of half-chewed doughnut, is pro-Neocon. He was referring to the political party in power in the United States. And that includes politicians here who are associated with them. Like Rod Morgan.

    Sophie couldn’t believe it.

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