rampa-extra\tigerutdr

from a book written of mrs. rampa - the lady that the former
lama from Tibet ”had to” share his life with.

She apparently wrote some - 4 - books on their daily life - this is from the book

"TIGERLILY"

here about her own early life and some of the life
with her ”former husband” Carl.

CHAPTER ONE
It was my good fortune to be born in an era when family life
meant something, when mothers found fulfillment in the home
and had no need of a second occupation to allow them to
function more fully as a complete being. A rare occasion
indeed to return home from school and find an empty house;
mother was always there, sewing perhaps, or busy crocheting
(an art which she taught me when I was quite young), and
always a nice tea awaited a hungry child.

As I was somewhat headstrong, there is no doubt a more
firm discipline would not have been amiss; but that was not
her way.
The moments which provided the greatest satisfaction were
the times spent in the evening, as the day was ending and night
approaching, before it was time to light the lamps.
Mother was fond of reciting this little verse:
‘Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupation
That is known as the children’s hour.’

She believed very strongly in devoting time to her offspring,
and in catering to their mental and spiritual needs as well as
their physical well-being.

The things one learns in one’s childhood days seem to linger
in the memory for ever, even more permanent than the present-
day computer with its memory bank. School was fine, I never
minded studying; but that was an everyday reality, something one
had to do. But what I really liked was to have my mother
tell true stories about her immediate family and close relatives.
It seems a far cry from where I am now, sitting in the apart-
ment of a high-rise building, to those days when home was a
house of your own and comfort was sitting by a blazing log fire
on a winter’s evening.

While the experiences unfolded in mother’s quiet voice, I
would picture a little girl around five years old being taken to
stay with her grandmother who lived a long way from the big
city where she had been born and which was her home. Al-
though I had never been away from MY family I tried to feel
what it must be like for the little girl trying to adapt herself to
life in a village with people who were strangers to her, even if
they were blood relations. There was very little said about her
Grandpa but Grandma apparently had forgotten anything she
might have known about the needs of small girls.

In the beginning the arrangement was meant to be just
temporary, while the child’s mother was recovering from a
malady which had been causing concern. However, the days
passed, then weeks, dragging on into months and years, and
my mother never did return to the place of her birth; so, in
the end she came to look upon various cousins with whom she
associated as more her family than her real sisters and
brothers.

As I look back through the years I still remember some of
the interesting sleep-experiences she used to relate. In those
days I probably put it down to ‘unusual dreams’ but in the
light of future developments it seems mother was seeing into
the future. She told how, in a dream, she had seen what she
referred to as horseless carriages and this was as a young girl,
before the turn of the century. As well as experiencing pre-
cognition, she must also have looked into the past for she told
of seeing bowls of white light, of an unearthly whiteness; and
she believed her dream had taken her to a city of a former
civilization. Pictures of people, too, were in evidence; but the
subjects did not remain still, rather they moved about-
advancing towards one.

Needlework and reading provided the main part of our recreation
and I probably developed my love of quotations and
proverbs in those days, an interest which has never left me. I
loved being read to until I was old enough to read myself, and
stories such as Little Nell, Uncle Tom’s Cabin and A Peep
Behind The Scenes provided plenty of scope for my vivid
imagination.

Later I passed through the usual ‘teen-age’ phase of ro-
mantic novels, identifying with all the joys and heartaches of
Hall Caine’s characters and those of Ethel M. Dell. Once I
was returning a book to the school library and everyone howled
with laughter when I announced, ‘I have brought back The
Top of The World.’ ‘You must be very strong,’ someone
commented glibly.

CHAPTER TWO
It was also my good fortune to have as a marriage partner aperson
who was interested in more than the material things of
life. He, who I will be referring to as Carl, was a very sensitive
person and on the day of our first meeting we just knew our
paths had crossed before. There was hardly any need for mere
words since we came very near to reading each others
thoughts. ‘How dreadful,’ someone may think; but if there is
nothing to hide surely it is a simple method of communicating.
It has been said that two people can live together for a number
of years and gradually become like each other physically, while
understanding each other perfectly, in silence. So we took the
short cut and, instead of waiting until near life’s ending, we
started at the other end and benefited thereby.

The very first afternoon we spent together was enjoyable for
both of us-definitely a milestone to be remembered.
As I sit here viewing the North American scene I relive one
glorious day in England: it was late Summer, around the
middle of September, where a turning point was reached in
the lives of two persons who were destined to meet. There was a man in
England who; upon having to put something unpleasant in a letter, would precede
the unpleasant part with the comment, ‘If you don’t like the next bit please read
it with your eyes closed’; so perhaps I might offer a similar suggestion.
If you do not believe in Astrology, please shut your eyes for the next part
because I want to tell something to the believers.

An eminent astrologer, known worldwide, who was inter-
ested in making a chart for us, said: ‘It was inevitable that
you two should come together. Saturn is in the same House, tothe exact
degree, in each of your charts; sign of a deep and
lasting tie.’ This astrologer was very careful about his pre-
dictions, knowing full well the foibles of human nature and the
responsibility of his profession, and he seemed somewhat
baffled at some of the things he saw in the two charts. Con-sidering
the unusual experiences we were to contend with in
the days and weeks ahead it was not surprising. It was appar-
ent that while we may not always see ‘eye-to-eye’ in the ordin-
ary everyday things, there was no doubt but that in the deeper
permanent concepts we were as one. This assurance has always
sustained me through the ups and downs, the peaks and lows,
of the see-saw of our time together. I knew there was a pur-pose
behind it all, even at the lowest ebb, and all the vicissitudes would
be worth while in the long run.
It was not long (only a few days) after we first met that Carl
took me to meet his Mother, with whom he was then living. Of
a somewhat formidable appearance, with strong views on
many subjects, she was amiable enough, but I always had the
impression that she resented my appearing on the scene. Like
many mothers she wanted to keep her son to herself, although
she had never been noted for showing any special affection for
him. It was probably a case of wanting to hang on to something
she was in danger of losing. For me there was the knowledge
that I could put up with the situation because it was natural
for a young man to find happiness with a partner, and I felt we
were doing what was intended of us. I had been fending for
myself for a number of years so I had the experience of deal-
ing with different situations, and this was only one more. For
some reason I have had to contend with ‘dislike’ from certain
women at various times, and I sometimes wonder why . .
probably this nuisance will follow me to the end of my life.
The astrologer called it jealousy!!

CHAPTER THREE
It was interesting the way in which I and my future husband
finally met, although it seemed there had been several attempts
by the ‘powers that be’ to bring this about. In the end we were
introduced by a man, a man known to both of us, who said he
had a strong conviction, a hunch, that he was meant to be the
means of bringing us together. It just goes to show we should
follow our hunches, or at least not discard them without due
thought; and no one should count himself too insignificant to
be a tool in the scheme of things. At one time I used to have a
most depreciating attitude regarding my own abilities, having a
tendency to listen to others-believing they knew the answers much
better than I, and I suffered thereby. These days I realize I must
stand or fall by my own beliefs and
actions; thus I have gained a large measure of self-confidence.
So the first time Carl and I came together was on a Saturday, in
September, and there was a mutual feeling that we ad been together
before. It was as though each of us had returned from a journey and
were about to continue life where we had left off after having been away
on our respective missions. On that first day and in the days which followed
I would find myself starting to say something . . . perhaps making
a comment, or asking a question . . . and then I would halt to say,
‘But I have said that before,’ or ‘I have asked that question before.’
Where and when had we known each other? Since those
days I believe I have become more enlightened on the subject
and I have often wished I had possessed a little more of the
knowledge and understanding which has been permitted me in
the interim. That was the first of many very pleasant interludes -
then we walked or sat by the river, taking tea at one of the manyopen-air
restaurants along the banks of the Thames near London.

It was there we used to enjoy taking a boat and idling
away an hour or so; and the time I fell overboard just appealed
to Carl’s keen sense of humor, though to me the incident was
anything but amusing. Although at the time it seemed there was little,
if any,choice the day we decided to go and live in Weybridge, we had made
an unfortunate decision. It was not a harmonious locality for us and, in
hindsight (a popular phrase since Watergate), we realized we had made a mistake.
However, ‘needs must, when the devil drives!’, and one
cannot live in London without work . . . or you couldn’t in thedays of which
I write; but, judging from what one hears about welfare, unemployment benefits
and various grants which are available . . . well, possibly it is possible to live there now
without working.
As with many people, the Second World War made a
difference to our lives. The place where Carl was employed as
Manager was unlucky enough to be bombed and so many
changes had to be made. He went off from Knightsbridge one
morning and when he reached Conduit Street he found the
area barricaded off, no one being allowed inside. After ex-
plaining his position to a police officer he was allowed to passand
continued on to the surgical appliance company’s offices, which had received a direct hit from a bomb.
When one brushes away the mists of memory one realizes
what a terrible time we were living through. The partmentbuilding
(or block of flats we called it) where we lived also had a hit, and that
gave me quite a fright. In my excitement I called out to Carl
to ‘come here’ before the place collapsed; but he didn’t come for
what seemed minutes, in spite of my shaking the handle of the door
behind which he was engaged in very private and personal business.
That particular episode led to all the tenants being turned out of the
building until following morning; so it was fortunate we knew someone
who had spare accommodation, and we made our way to Earl’s Court
where we gratefully tumbled into bed.

Many times have I remarked that one of the best breakfasts I ever had was the following morning, when we returned to our flat and had a meal of bacon, eggs and sausages. Apparently there had been danger of escaping gas and it was not considered safe to leave anyone in the building overnight.
People have often asked how we ever managed to get any sleep in the wake of those noisy and dangerous air raids, and they found it hard to believe that I was able to sleep through it all.! I never worried whether I would see another day or not; and I will always remember once, in the early days before we had become used to it all, Carl woke me when there was a particularly noisy attack to tell me I was too deeply asleep. He said, ‘If you died suddenly due to the bombing, you would not know what had happened to you for a long time, so it is better to be awake and conscious of what is happening.’ I rubbed my eyes and pondered upon it, and the more I thought about it the more sense it seemed to make . . . so much so that it has stayed    in my mind ever since. If I am without discomfort, or actual pain, wild horses will not awaken me; so obviously I must reach a very deep ‘level’ of the sleep state, which benefits me enormously. To me the sleep state sets the tune for my mood and efficiency, or otherwise, on the following day.
Just last month there were two or three fire engines outside my window at some unearthly hour, and I have to confess that I didn’t hear a thing; and I only knew about it when I was told later. To sleep soundly does not mean that one sleeps the whole night through . . . in my case it is simply for a short time, at most three hours, which I understand is more beneficial than say an eight-hour stretch.     The late Sir Winston Churchill apparently found this a satisfactory method, together with his daytime ‘catnaps’, and he seemed to function remarkably well.
I was interested to read in Dr. James Paupst’s Sleep Book(Macmillan of Canada, 1975) that ‘something seems to belacking in sleep research so far’. He writes:
‘Perhaps if scientists would decide not to look-as out-siders-into this other life we lead at night, but actually to
take part in it, like Alice in Wonderland slipping through
her magic door, they might come up with some real evi-
dence. For if there is another life, it may be more “real” than
what we live. Who knows what roles we each play in it?
Who can tabulate our activities and reactions?’    As I read the book I was reminded of an incident during our stay in Surrey when Carl said to me one morning, ‘Whatever were you doing in your sleep?’ ‘Why?’ I was anxious to know as he did not tell me immediately. ‘Well,’ he smiled, ‘you said you were going to have our little car painted blue.’ So this left me wondering because I had no recollection of it. ‘You said itquite clearly,’ he continued, ‘and you answered my question when I asked you “why?” You said it was going to be blue because that was the colour Warwick Deeping’s car was being painted.’    Later in the day we were leafing through a magazine and to our surprise we saw an account of Warwick Deeping’s BLUE car.
Who was Warwick Deeping? A ‘fashionable’ writer of his
day, even though his work may have been written in a ratherponderous style. Deeping was merely a pseudonym-and nothis real name.

CHAPTER FOUR
The proprietor of the surgical appliance company decided it
was unwise to contemplate staying in London because onecouldn’t guarantee freedom from further air attacks; so he cast
around for a more suitable place, eventually deciding to trans-
fer to a place in the ‘Midland’ area, a fair distance fromLondon.
We heard about another company who also had left the city,
due to wartime conditions, and had moved to Weybridge in
Surrey; and these people needed staff. It was necessary to have
a personal interview, so, after making an appointment, we
went along by bus, to find the Managing Director had not arrived. Carl just had to wait, while I went down the road where there was a restaurant . . . and there I stayed for what seemed like hours until my husband joined me. The man, the Managing Director (who was also the boss-the proprietor), had forgotten about the interview, hence his late arrival. But apparently he was impressed with Carl’s experience and abilities, so quickly decided he was the man for the job.    Not many people wanted to go out in the wilds of Weybridge, especially if they had been used to life in London. And we didn’t think much of it either but there was nothing else in view so we had to accept what seemed the inevitable.    This was an engineering correspondence set-up, a technological institute (an institute of technology), and there was
no shortage of students since people wanted to be well pre-
pared for the future from the standpoint of furthering their
education. In times of war, people worry about the future,
wondering what post-war conditions are going to be like, and
they feel that if they increase their education they will stand a   better chance of competing for a job.
This business flourished for a few years, and though the salaries for staff left much to be desired it was said that the    proprietor soon became a millionaire. He found it difficult to understand why employees needed money.
Too late we learnt that, had we waited a little longer, other opportunities would have presented themselves and a much more satisfactory offer would have come our way. If people in general only had the gift of pre-vision, how much more satisfactory their lives might be. Or would they? It seems so easy to take the wrong path.
Summer was a much pleasanter time to spend in the vicinity because one could rent a dinghy and go rowing on the River Wey. This we would be doing after a wait of six or seven months because we had arrived in one of the worst periods, in dull November.
We were going to miss the walks in the parks, in Green Park and Kensington Gardens, where we loved to go during the weekends. Carl found museums fascinating, especially the science museum at South Kensington; and I enjoyed Madame Tussaud’s waxworks exhibition, also going out to a restaurant occasionally in the evening for dinner. One of our favorite places was the Empire Restaurant, in Victoria Street, which we sometimes visited after Carl left the office . . . and I some-   times wondered whether this was arranged mainly for my             benefit. I knew he liked to spend some time in a News Theatre, so I would suggest it after dinner, before we returned home.
Our nearest neighbor in Weybridge was a gardener who lived in a cottage with his wife, and who used to grow many vegetables for himself and his ‘customers’. It must have been quite legal and above-board, but he didn’t seem happy to have neighbors (us) around who were in a position to observe his varied activities. Life moved along fairly smoothly except for a mild complaint, about a cat scratching around the vegetable and flowerbeds, and he was concerned as to whether it was our feline.
We were awakened one morning in the early hours by loudknocking on the door, and an agitated voice accompanying the knocking. On investigating we found the gardener’s wife in avery nervous state and wearing only her night attire. She beseeched me to go with her since she thought her husband was dying, and would I go and see what I thought about his condition. She was obviously in a very distressed state so I had to do something, although she and her husband had shown nothing but resentment towards us. I threw on a robe and accompanied her back to her cottage where I crossed the threshold for the first time, when she ushered me to where her husband lay. For a moment I stood looking at him; I saw it was too late and there was nothing one could do to save him, for his spirit had indeed departed. She looked up at me, at last realizing the worst, and I consoled her as best I could while she gradually recovered her self-control and made arrangements to contact her doctor and her relatives.

It must be one of the saddest situations when one partner is
suddenly taken away, most people seem to know not where,
and the other is left to face life alone.
In this particular case, the clothes-line in the back garden
was left in position for a long time, when normally it would
have been removed immediately the washing was dry; left
because it was one of the last duties the gardener had per-
formed and his wife did not feel able to have it removed since
it helped her to maintain contact with him.
I have often wondered why we are not educated more about
the process of dying; why we are not told how it is a natural
process, and that it is not the end. The majority of today’s
youth seem to have very little idea of what death is all about,
and how can they know if there is no one to teach them?

CHAPTER FIVE
Weybridge was a busy place during the war years, Vickers
Armstrong’s Aircraft Company being in the vicinity, and pro-
viding employment for thousands of people. Each morning,
around breakfast time, the avenue beneath our window was
buzzing with motor cars, trucks and bicycles-all on their
way to Vickers; but after an hour or so, the road was almost
deserted again. Yes, we were continually reminded of the war.
Of course Brooklands’ race track, also in the Weybridge
district, was known all over the world.

For us it was a fairly quiet period in our lives for we did not
lead much of a social life, having very few visitors. Carl was
not fond of mixing with people, so his employer held this
against him. If you want to succeed in business life, it seems
you must smoke, drink and BE SOCIAL, whatever that means!
A few of my acquaintances came to visit us ‘out in the
sticks’ and I remember one in particular, a nurse who had but
recently been married. She had flouted hospital regulations
and married one of her patients in the hospital.

Although her name escapes my memory, I have several reasons for
remembering this young lady-not the least being that she was an
excellent nurse, admired by staff and management alike. Her
husband, prior to the marriage, had suffered a motor-cycle
accident; thus he became a patient, having one leg amputated.
During his illness and convalescence, no doubt partly due to
the extreme care he enjoyed at her hands, he fell in love with
his nurse. After his discharge from hospital, there were many
escapades, after hours, and it was not long before wedding
bells were ringing for nurse and patient. Around that particu-
lar time there was a film star who had suffered a leg amputa-
tion, and therefore he had enlisted the use of an artificial limb.
My nurse acquaintance and her husband spent many hours
sitting in the cinema studying this actor’s leg movements so
they might learn whatever they could to make things easier for
themselves.
I was just going to comment that, were I endowed with an
eidetic memory, I would give the actor’s name. In the mean-
time the electrical pulsations within my cranium slowly
‘creaked’, bringing to the surface the name of Herbert Mar-
shall-a well-known and popular British actor of his day.
Another person with whom we maintained contact was Dr.
Murray, a pathologist, and whenever we found ourselves in his
area we would go along to the hospital where he was employed
and have a chat. Dr. Murray was a very clever man, an author
of technical works, and a prospective candidate for Britain’s
parliament; but, since we did not approve of the party he
represented, we were just as happy that he did not get suffici-
ent votes. It would have been sad for a brilliant medical man
to waste his time with politics, surely.

Dr. Murray is no longer on the earth plane-but he is
always remembered with affection.
One does not enjoy being reminded of wars; and that being
so, there is no pleasure in living close to an aircraft factory,
which for some people creates an artificial glamour. Wages are
high and the ordinary person, the so-called man-in-the-street,
is able to live on a scale which would be unimaginable in peace
time.

As well as the Vickers Viscount planes, the Wellington
Bomber (the Wimpey) was also produced by the Vickers
Brookland factory. This was the first geodetic airplane ever
made. Vickers also produced one of the first anti-sub radar
planes (a Wimpey) which had on top a thing which looked like
a flying saucer. The machine used to fly over the sea by night,
when U-boats were on the surface recharging their batteries.
They could spot the U-boats first and were then able to drop
their depth charges.

There is no pleasure in reliving the horrors of war with all
its hate and misunderstanding, and the aftermath of suffering
which it causes. One needed only to walk past the Star and
Garter Home for the Disabled, near Richmond Park, to be
reminded how savage human beings can be to each other.
These disabled and otherwise crippled men had been victims
of the First World War.

When one lives away from the mainstream of things one
tends to fall back on one’s own resources; so we had plenty of
time to think, read and, on weekends and evenings, explore the
countryside on our bicycles which we had brought with us
from London. Often we cycled along to Walton-on-Thames in
one direction, or to a small place named Addlestone the other
way (not far from Chertsey). Sometimes we would take a train
and go to Woking or Guildford, and one of the nicest doctors I
have ever known lived in Woking. He was Irish and, due to his
abilities as a physician and his natural humanitarian manner,
most of his patients considered themselves fortunate to be in-
cluded in his practice. This GENTLEMAN has gone on to a
higher state, with few regrets and the knowledge that his life
on earth was well worth while.

One day we were riding along towards Heath Road, on our
way home, when we passed a small restaurant and we noticed
a sign reading ‘Kittens available’; so we stopped and made
enquiries. The restaurant owner was a pleasant English
woman, and her cat family looked well and happy; so we de-
cided to have one of her beautiful Silver Tabbies, a gentleman
who was often known as Mr. T. Catt.

T. Catt was very tiny, with a very short tail and a beautiful
sensitive face, and we were quite enthralled at the prospect of
adopting him. In the two weeks we had to wait for him to be
old enough to leave his cat mother we purchased dishes (plates,
saucers and bowls), together with sanitary trays, and a sleep-
ing basket; for cats, and indeed all creatures, are happier with
their own utensils.

Everything was in order by the time we went to collect and
bring him home. He was so small that he would fit easily into
Carl’s pocket. And that is how he was transported from one
home to the other. It was a happy moment when T. Catt crossed the
threshold and took up residence, thus becoming part of our life. If a
pussycat starts investigating his new quarters, and shows interest in the
food you have provided, you can be fairly certain he is going to settle
down happily. And this is what happened.
Life seemed to take on a new meaning, because we had been
so much ‘wrapped up with ourselves’ and we needed to
broaden our interests and affections. Carl and I had been
thrown together for such long periods that there were too few
‘spaces’ in our togetherness-that is how Kahlil Gibran puts
it. He says:
‘Let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds
of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make
not a bond of love; let it rather be a moving sea between the
shores of your souls.’

So the advent of Mr. Catt added a new dimension to our
lives, and I was to learn much from the association. The most
exciting experience for me came one day when Mr. Catt had
reached maturity. I was holding him in my arms while stand-
ing before a looking glass. Without concentrating I casually
turned to let him see himself, because I knew cats COULD see
their image if they were interested. Sometimes they seem to be
sure there is another creature on the other side, and it can be
quite amusing to watch while they search around behind the
mirror to find the interloper.

Whether T. Catt saw himself or not seemed unimportant at that moment
because I was so interested in what I myself witnessed: In the mirror
image I saw, around my cat, a narrow band of a bluish-gray substance
extending a few centimeters, which later I came to identify as the etheric
body which surrounds all living things. That was a very important
discovery for me because in later years, having read so much material
on this and kindred subjects, I could say to myself, ‘Yes, this is so
because I have actually seen it.’
Sometimes it is possible to see something like this more clearly
through a mirror; and it gave me the assurance that the etheric
really existed, and gradually to have the ability to see it even
without any artificial aids.

CHAPTER SIX
As I look back, I realize more than ever that the time spent in Weybridge was a time of preparation for another phase. It seemed we were not destined to have friends or acquaintances, and it was not long before we were quite on our own-the few people I had known were occupied with their own affairs, and to some extent everybody’s life was influenced by the war. Carl and I became air-raid wardens; and we had to take our turn on duty, patrolling our area, making sure no one was showing a light and violating the blackout rules at night. One ill-minded person reported us one night for showing a chink of light-it was more a case of bad feeling than a serious viola-tion of rules.

Carl was intense in his love of nature people, and we were
more and more pleased to have our Silver Tabby who showed
great interest in our activities-and seemed to know his mis-
sion in life was to care for us. Carl suggested we go along to a
store and find a harness for Mr. T. Catt before taking him out
walking. This we did and, although he never really liked the
restriction of being confined within the contraption, he did
eventually come to accept it as part of the process of becoming
civilized, even humanized. Your cat considers himself as part
of your family, so why should he not consider himself ‘human-
ized’. Sometimes I ponder whether my present creatures don’t
tend to look upon me as another member of their species. At
home I am sometimes addressed as ‘Ma Cat’ and there are
times when I can almost sense things from their point of view.
After all, if you can see something in your mind’s eye there is no
reason why it should not become a reality. Most of us have heard
the remark, ‘I feel closer to my dog than I do to      many humans,’ or,
‘The more I see of people the more I love        my dog.’ It has been said
that, what you can visualize-CAN BE. He who can see the invisible can achieve the impossible.
I would like to quote an extract from Alice in Wonderland
because it is so applicable, and it helps one to believe in so-
called impossible things : ‘Alice laughed. “There’s no use try-
ing” she said. “One can’t believe in impossible things.”   “I
dare say you haven’t had much practice”, said the Queen.
“When I was younger I always did it for half-an-hour a day.
Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible
things before breakfast.” ’Who would believe that at one time cats
walked upright, on two legs? Well I have an idea that, according to
cat legends, hey did indeed; and they used to engage in numerous
activities which would surprise the human of today.
Within a few short months, T. Catt grew to become a beau-
tiful specimen, and I used to say he reminded me of a Tiger
Lily-he had the markings of a tiger and the delicate appear-
ance of a lily. The expression on his sweet face was really .
quite angelic.
As the days passed we gradually realized that when you
adopt a creature of nature, giving it the trust and affection it
deserves, you will not be disappointed-for nature people are
capable of returning your devotion many times over. I will
never forget how much I owe my Silver Tabby, my Tiger
Lily.

Since we were so very isolated in our personal life, the day
we became the possessors of a little automobile was quite an
event. The Managing Director of the company expected Carl
to service his cars as well as attending the advisory work
relating to students (the position for which he had been en-
gaged), and I became quite proficient as a mechanic’s assist-
ant. Once I helped to change over the engine of a car-I hope
I can remember the ‘make’; yes, it was a Standard, and by
today’s standards, probably considered quite ancient.
The gentleman also owned a beautiful black Chrysler, and
being something of a speed fiend he caused pedestrians to leap
out of the way when he came speeding along the Avenue on his
way to the office. This vehicle, too, was serviced by Carl be-
cause his knowledge of motor mechanics was extensive; al-
though he disliked this type of work very much, eventually
putting his foot down and asking his boss to please find some-
one else to do it.

But to own a car ourselves was something else! And I was
very interested when Carl told me he had heard of a little
Morris Minor which was almost new, and which was to be sold
for a very reasonable figure.

We went down Baker Street to the garage, and we were
given a trial run which resulted in a purchase; and this cer-
tainly made life more interesting. We explored the whole
district and often went to London Airport (Heathrow), which
was just being completed, finding it most interesting to watch
the planes. I have been surprised to see the name ‘Heathrow’
continues to be used because in those early days it was said
there was a problem with its pronunciation: many non-
English speaking people could not manage the ‘th’-merely
sounding the ‘t’. However, since it has survived, the problem
must not have been insurmountable.
Sometimes we took a drive to other places of interest, to
Epsom Downs or to Boxhill, where we might enjoy the won-
derful view, or even to London itself where we drove around
marveling at the damage which could be wrought by warfare.
It was disappointing to find that T. Catt was less than in-
terested in the contraption. He preferred to get underneath the
thing and examine it after we returned from a trip. If ever we
tried to take him with us he would make the most strenuous
objections-as though there was something unpleasant and
eerie about the whole thing. Perhaps he knew more about it
than we did, as we were to find out later.

To our dismay this car was sometimes hard to control, as
though another entity was trying to take over the steering and
attempting to veer in the opposite direction. At other times we
seemed to be moving backward, something which, logically,
was impossible since the gear would be in the neutral position,
with the car pointing down hill.
Many aspects of the whole affair were explained when
eventually we happened to hear something of the car’s history.
Apparently it had been involved in an accident, resulting in a
person being killed; and, according to the man who supplied
the information, it was known to be a haunted car. So that was
why the price was so reasonable, and possibly why Mr. Catt
was such an unwilling passenger-always resisting our at-
tempts to take him with us.

What our Tiger did enjoy was to stroll around the grounds
with us, on weekends or in the evenings, usually wearing a
harness so we might keep a check on him; and he delighted in
doing a bit of tree climbing. These premises had originally
been privately owned, before being transformed into offices,
and the estate comprised about three and a half acres of land.
It was very pleasant to wander amongst the trees and flowers
in the cool of a summer evening, keeping an eye on Mr. Catt
and chatting of various things which were of interest to both of
us.

One day Carl said, ‘You know, Ra-ab, that cat reminds me
of a creature who lived with me previously : although HE was
of a different color he had many of the same mannerisms, and
I often have an impression of my black cat when I observe this
one.’ Since we believe that humans and ‘animals’ do return to
earth again and again, we accepted the fact that ‘black cat
John’ had come back again in the form of a Tabby-to look
after us as well as gaining further experience himself. We be-
lieved this creature, T. Catt, previously John, had been associ-
ated with us through many lives, and that we would continue
together through many more.

Carl was extremely gentle with ‘animals’ and he would lift
cats carefully, with both hands-not taking them by the scruff
of the neck thus allowing their bodies to just hang down and
become strained as some people do, which can cause such
misery. He used to say one should never laugh at a cat other-
wise it would be sorely offended, and he was speaking of the
so-called domestic feline. Siamese cats, it seems, are less con-
cerned about it; but their biggest problem is loneliness. They
MUST have the companionship of humans if they are to sur-
vive and remain sane and content.

It was the cause of much worry the night Mr. Catt did not
come home by bedtime. We had gone down to the front door
and out into the yard on a very warm summer evening, when
suddenly he darted off into the dusk-all our entreaties to
return being in vain. He had never stayed away before, so in
our concern we could not settle down to sleep, only napping
fitfully. So it was with joy that I looked out of the window in
the morning and espied him sitting under a tree, waiting for
the door to open so he might come in and resume the duties he
had lately been neglecting.

Carl and I spent a good deal of time in our photo-
graphic darkroom and this entailed much work since it was
something of a make-shift affair. Being war-time the blackout
curtains were useful in making the room dark but there was no
‘running water’ so we were kept busy transporting solutions
back and forth from the bathroom, being particularly careful
to prevent as much as possible the collection of dust in the dishes.
I soon learned how careful one must be in maintaining cleanliness when
processing film and making prints, almost as careful as preparing for an
operation in a hospital. I also learned that if one is interested, dedicated
if you like, in whatever one undertakes, it is possible to obtain good results
in spite of difficult working conditions. One supposes it is only the bad
workman who blames his tools, the proficient photo-grapher overcomes the
obstacles.
By watching and listening to Carl’s procedures and explanations I was able to
learn a great deal; with the big Thorton Pickard reflex, and the small Agfa 35-mm size,
the range of photographic possibilities was fairly wide.
Why the small size film at all, one wonders. It seems that
when someone was making cine films they decided it would be
a good idea to make some of this size available to the public,
especially since there is more variety in cine film than any
other. The Belgian firm of Gaevert manufactured the film in
collaboration with the Agfa company whose 35-mm camera
was one of the earliest on the market, and it took twelve
frames to a roll, so we must have been amongst the earliest
users of the 35 mm which in later days has become so
popular.

Around that time a British Company in Kingston-on-
Thames, Surrey, brought out the Compass, a wrist camera,
using 16-mm circular film, and in those early days the mid-
Europeans put out a ‘spy’ camera using this film which is just
about half the size of the 35 mm. A little later a man in Italy
invented another small instrument which has been called one
of the finest cameras ever produced, but for one reason or
another it did not receive the promotion necessary to get go-
ing, so it was never popularized. This camera was a Gami and
one of its features was that with each setting of the shutter
one might take three separate pictures. Whether that was a
good thing is debatable. I have seen some results of this in-
strument and I have to agree they came close to perfection in
quality.

Many people have felt interest or curiosity regarding my
life; thinking it must have been so different because of the
unusual circumstances, in that one person left this life and his
place was taken over by another. You who have followed the
teachings in Lobsang Rampa’s books (Lobsang Rampa to
whom I owe a greater debt than I shall ever be able to repay in
countless lifetimes), you will know the broad outline of the
need for the necessary steps which had to be taken. Since his description has
been so comprehensive it needs no enlargement from me.

Lobsang Rampa has a harder time than anyone living can comprehend, he has
seen his efforts sabotaged by smaller minds than his, and when I look back,
even to the days before he came, I can see where my own actions (or lack of)
could have made conditions much easier for the one who was already here, as
well as for the one who would follow.

Carl and I, bogged down as we were by solid earth vibra-tions, and not having
acquired the necessary refinements, were often in a quandary, thus we were
misunderstood and I lacked the understanding which would have helped us,
each the other.

Many were the hours we chatted about our early life, comparing experiences,
and deciding there were many things we didn’t understand about our situations,
things we hoped would be clear one day. Always we were intrigued with the
thought of that special FORCE, which had brought us together, and we
wondered at the purpose behind it. There were so many incidents, memories
of what must have been past hap- penings, but everything seemed misty,
in a sort of fog. It was not until Lobsang Rampa, who we all look upon affectionately
as the Guv, came upon the scene, that enlightenment came to
me upon many subjects, and for this I have been so very thankful for the light which
has cast its rays out from the dark recesses of the subconscious mind.

As one gains more and more understanding of life’s upward path, one realizes
it is neither sensible nor advisable to discuss, to broadcast, all one’s private
experiences and thoughts. I am reminded of the advice of Dr. Rampa
regarding the giving of a name to one’s subconscious: give it a name but
do not tell anyone else the name, or its power will not be so great,
the power of the subconscious, that is.

It would be very nice to relate various experiences, various bits of knowledge
which have been given to help one along one’s path, but something which can
be of help to one person would not necessarily benefit another, so let us keep
our private information and guidance to ourselves, where it will at least do good
to one person, instead of spreading a lot of ‘idle talk’ which most likely will
benefit no one-partly because it
would not be believed, merely being looked upon as idle chat-ter.
One piece of information, though, may be passed on and may benefit
at least some person who feels their load is too great.
Many times the thought has been impressed upon my
consciousness that no person is given a load of problems which
is too heavy for them to bear. There is always some circum-stance,
which intervenes when we feel we have almost reached
breaking point, and this happens to each one of us at one time
or another, unless we are one of those rare individuals who for
some reason or another have perhaps suffered in another life,
and are being given a respite, or who may not yet have reached
the stage where such an experience is deemed beneficial to
their progress.
From personal experience I can truthfully say that I have
received such a feeling of sustenance in my hour of need that I
could hardly have believed possible. This message is being passed on to
show that if one is able to believe, such help is available to every one of us.

Many people have expressed the hope that Mrs. Rampa would write a
book one of these days, that she would make it really sensational, full of
all the exciting things most people delight in hearing. Well, while one does
not wish to mislead anyone, it has never been my intention to write a
sensational story. There is nothing sensational about it (everything has
been carried out according to the law of nature) so it is my greatest
desire that those of you who read these pages will accept them for
what they are, a recording of events as they happened in the lives of
a fairly ordinary family, which included a highly intelligent cat and one
who I believe has reached a fairly high level on the evolutionary scale.

It might interest someone to know that whenever I take up
my typewriter to continue telling of our experiences there
always appears a picture, an impression if you like, of a cat in
one form or another, before me. It is almost as though I am
impelled to make such a creature the main theme of my story,
and that I have no choice in the matter. At this moment, as I
write, there is a highly intelligent feline sitting on her resting
place right opposite me, with eyes half-closed but otherwise with an air
of full alertness. This creature, who has been
termed one of the most intelligent creatures it has been my
honor to meet, seems to be saying to me that I should be
writing more about cats, and their world; whatever I may not
be sufficiently familiar with, then I should make it my business
to ask.

The Guv is always willing to help with advice culled
from his extensive knowledge, and in matters relating to
ordinary day-to-day problems there is a fine veterinarian close
by who is always prepared to offer us the fruits of his experi-
ence. So my Lady Cleopatra sees no reason why there should not be
written a comprehensive book all about feline life, and telling many things
the average person would appreciate knowing. So perhaps now we
might return to some more antics of the felines, a subject which brings
joy and happiness to the hearts of cat lovers.

So, after that diversion we return to England and Wey-
bridge, where every day was lived in very much the same way,
which meant there was very little exciting happening.
It was not until Mr. T. Catt, the Tiger, was around four
years of age that he was allowed to wander around unchaper-
oned. Carl and I talked it over and decided he should be all
right in our neighborhood so long as he did not try to cross
the road, and we hoped he would not do so. At first we were
somewhat apprehensive, especially when someone from the
office would tell us they had seen a Silver Tabby cat crossing
the road, and entering a neighbor’s grounds.
Fortunately the automobiles did not travel as fast as they do
here in Canada where in Ontario it was heartbreaking to see
the number of casualties due to speeding cars, many of which
could surely have been avoided.

One of the attractions for him, the Tiger, was the fact that
the neighbor kept hens and chickens and apparently T. Catt
enjoyed visiting them which left us with another problem-
fleas! It was anything but a happy day when I had to take him
down into the yard and carefully (without affecting the eyes
and ears) rub flea powder into his fur, for each time he visited
that hen-house he seemed to collect some of those crawling,
hopping creatures.

Apart from contact with creatures such as hens, which are
sometimes infested with fleas, a cat should be comparatively
free of these crawling hoppers as they grow beyond the stage
of kittenhood, especially if they stay away from squirrels, and
certain large birds such as pigeons. When the cats are in the
babyhood stage, merely kittens, they are not able to care for
their fur and general condition as well as a more fully grown
cat.

Mr. T. Catt provided much amusement for us; he loved to
pick up articles and put them in various places, which greatly
hampered our activities if it was something we needed im-
mediately. I remember one time in particular when Carl was
looking for an instrument, a sort of scalpel-shaped knife and it
was not to be found any place. After a time the culprit, in the
form of Mr. Catt, came in from the shelf where he used to sit
for hours and hours; in his mouth was the knife which he
offered to us with great glee, placing it by Carl’s feet. That
knife must have been outside for some time because it had
become rusty through being out in damp weather. It was an
episode with a happy ending, for until we found the instru-
ment Carl must have thought I had taken it.

Another time the Tiger must have been in a fight, and got
the worst of the fray, for he arrived home one morning looking
disreputable and with a torn ear. Whether he had been show-
ing off or what I might never know, but since he was a child of
Leo such a thing was entirely possible. When he was quite
young he fell from the same outside shelf upon which he was
sitting, and landed on the ground, one floor down, and there he
was miauing at the front door apparently none the worse for
the experience. Surely that left him with less than the nine
lives we attribute to those of the cat tribe.

We had spent most of the war years in this particular
locality but still we had few acquaintances or friends, but we
did have a short friendship with a person who was in the
Royal Air Force, and his wife. One day we all decided to take
a boat and spend an afternoon on the River Wey. We thought
we may as well take the Tiger since it would be a nice change
for him. A nice change, did I say! I am sure he never spent
such a miserable time in the whole of his life; there was he
panting away and looking as though he was about to pass out,
and that was the first and last time Mr. Catt ever went
boating.
-------------

By watching and listening to Carl’s procedures and ex-
planations I was able to learn a great deal; with the big
Thorton Pickard reflex, and the small Agfa 35-mm size, the
range of photographic possibilities was fairly wide.
Why the small size film at all, one wonders. It seems that
when someone was making cine films they decided it would be
a good idea to make some of this size available to the public,
especially since there is more variety in cine film than any
other. The Belgian firm of Gaevert manufactured the film in
collaboration with the Agfa company whose 35-mm camera
was one of the earliest on the market, and it took twelve
frames to a roll, so we must have been amongst the earliest
users of the 35 mm which in later days has become so
popular.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Life is made up of sunshine and shadow and it would not be of
much help to anyone if all was gloom or ‘cloud nine’ ex-periences,
cloud nine being about the ultimate experience ofjoy we could
possibly feel while on earth. Someone has said, ‘If the sun should shine night and day,
how soon the treeswould wither.’ I mention this to illustrate the ways of ordinary living;
although misunderstandings and minor disagreements are most unpleasant there comes a
wonderful feeling of satisfaction when two people resolve their differences and harmony
is once more restored. It’s something like when you have to part from a cared-for person
for a time-having beenaway from each other, the eventual coming together again reveals an
extra glow which radiates new meaning.
I want to try and explain how the story of ‘Tiger Lily’ ismade up of a mixture such as I have
just described, how all
was not perpetual sunshine and gladness.

If I were to attempt to convey such an expression it would not
be fair nor would it be correct,
for we had our problems, great and small, just as is experienced
by all serious thinking persons.
Many people have felt interest or curiosity regarding my
life; thinking it must have been so different because of the
unusual circumstances, in that one person left this life and his
place was taken over by another. You who have followed the
teachings in Lobsang Rampa’s books (Lobsang Rampa to
whom I owe a greater debt than I shall ever be able to repay in
countless lifetimes), you will know the broad outline of the
need for the necessary steps which had to be taken.
Since hisdescription has een so comprehensive it needs no enlargement from me.

Lobsang Rampa has a harder time than anyone living can comprehend, he has seen
his efforts sabotaged by smaller minds than his, and when I look back, even to the
days before he came, I can see where my own actions (or lack of) could
have made conditions much easier for the one who was already here, as
well as for the one who would follow.

Carl and I, bogged down as we were by solid earth vibra- tions, and not
having acquired the necessary refinements, were often in a quandary, thus we
were misunderstood and I lacked the understanding which would have helped us,
each the other.

Many were the hours we chatted about our early life, comparing experiences,
and deciding there were many things we didn’t understand about our situations,
things we hoped would be clear one day. Always we were intrigued with the
thought of that special FORCE, which had brought us together, and we
wondered at the purpose behind it. There were so many incidents,
memories of what must have been past happenings, but everything
seemed misty, in a sort of fog. It was not until Lobsang Rampa,
who we all look upon affectionately as the Guv, came upon the
scene, that enlightenment came to me upon many subjects, and for this I have
been so very thankful for the light which has cast its rays out from the dark
recesses of the subconscious mind. As one gains more and more understanding
of life’s upward path, one realizes it is neither sensible nor advisable to discuss,
to broadcast, all one’s private experiences and thoughts.

I am reminded of the advice of Dr. Rampa regarding the giving of a name to one’s subconscious: give it a name but do not tell anyone else the name, or its power will not be so great, the power of the subconscious, that is.

It would be very nice to relate various experiences, various bits of knowledge which have been given to help one along one’s path, but something which can be of help to one person would not necessarily benefit another, so let us keep our private information and guidance to ourselves, where it will at least do good to one person, instead of spreading a lot of ‘idle talk’ which most likely will benefit no one-partly because it would not be believed, merely being looked upon as idle chatter. One piece of information, though, may be passed on and may benefit at least some person who feels their load is too great. Many times the thought has been impressed upon my consciousness that no person is given a load of problems which is too heavy for them to bear. There is always some circum-stance which intervenes when we feel we have almost reached breaking point, and this happens to each one of us at one time or another, unless we are one of those rare individuals who for some reason or another have perhaps suffered in another life, and are being given a respite, or who may not yet have reached the stage where such an experience is deemed beneficial to their progress.
From personal experience I can truthfully say that I have
received such a feeling of sustenance in my hour of need that I
could hardly have believed possible. This message is being passed on to show that if one is able to believe, such help is available to every one of us.
Many people have expressed the hope that Mrs. Rampawould write a book one of these days, that she would make itreally sensational, full of all the exciting things most people delight in hearing. Well, while one does not wish to misleadm anyone, it has never been my intention to write a sensational story. There is nothing sensational about it (everything has been carried out according to the law of nature) so it is my greatest desire that those of you who read these pages will accept them for what they are, a recording of events as they happened in the lives of a fairly ordinary family, which in-cluded a highly intelligent cat and one who I believe has reached a fairly high level on the evolutionary scale.
It might interest someone to know that whenever I take up my typewriter to continue telling of our experiences there always appears a picture, an impression if you like, of a cat in one form or another, before me.
It is almost as though I am

impelled to make such a creature the main theme of my story,
and that I have no choice in the matter. At this moment, as I
write, there is a highly intelligent feline sitting on her resting
place right opposite me, with eyes half-closed but otherwise
with an air of full alertness. This creature, who has been
termed one of the most intelligent creatures it has been my
honor to meet, seems to be saying to me that I should be
writing more about cats, and their world; whatever I may not
be sufficiently familiar with, then I should make it my business
to ask.

The Guv is always willing to help with advice culled
from his extensive knowledge, and in matters relating to
ordinary day-to-day problems there is a fine veterinarian close
by who is always prepared to offer us the fruits of his experi-
ence. So my Lady Cleopatra sees no reason why there should not be
written a comprehensive book all about feline life, and telling many
things the average person would appreciate knowing. So perhaps now
we might return to some more antics ofthe felines, a subject which brings
joy and happiness to the hearts of cat lovers.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
There was one important event occurred while we were living
in the Weybridge area and that was the wedding of Princess
Elizabeth and Prince Philip, the Princess who is now Queen
Elizabeth the Second. It was a particularly happy moment to
be standing on the bridge at the foot of St. George’s Avenue to
watch the Royal train pass by, bearing the honeymoon couple,
who were off to spend part of their honeymoon with their
relatives, Lord and Lady Mountbatten. It was a dreary day in
November, with rain hampering those who were bent on wit-
nessing this delightful spectacle, this exciting moment. Where-
ever Royalty is to be found you can be sure of finding a host
of happy Britishers. The British care very much for their kings
and queens and they revel in all the pageantry the monarchy
entails.

One had to make the most of each event, there were so few
on which to feast the eyes.
At one period during the war Sir Winston Churchill’s
daughter, Mary, spent some time in the area, together with
others who were in the Auxiliary Territorial Service. At one
time these A.T.S. seemed to be everywhere. One supposes
they were down there to receive certain training. Later Miss
Churchill (the youngest daughter of the Churchill’s) married
Christopher Soames, now Sir Christopher.

Much of our time was spent in reading and listening to the
radio and at that time Shaw Desmond’s work was popular, as
were the books of Paul Brunton, a serious and interesting
writer. Carl enjoyed things bordering on the occult and meta-
physical and I gradually became interested in the subjects. At
first I did not like to see him reading this material so much, for
some strange reason I thought he would become so knowledge-
able that he might progress beyond my reach. It was a stupid
thought but not so uncommon as one might think, judging by
the letters one receives. However, I am wiser now and I realize
it is possible for anyone, everyone, to progress spiritually
through metaphysical and occult studies-especially when
they are able to receive proper guidance from one who knows.
many spare moments talking about the sort of life we had led
before we first met.

Carl’s youth seemed to have been an unhappy time for a
young boy. He was somewhat aloof and not easily understood,
and after his school years were over he was sent to take an
apprenticeship as a motor mechanic, a job he really disliked.
Because of traveling about in damp, wet weather he de-
veloped chest problems which necessitated giving up this
work. Later he studied advertising and he found this much
more interesting and something for which he seemed to have a
flair. The company he was with when we first met had given
him responsibility for all their advertising so his work must
have been satisfactory, since the aforesaid advertising brought
in a good response. The position at Weybridge also entailed a
fair amount of advertising, again bringing in good results, so
there is no doubt but that a person who is doing work he enjoys
has a much greater chance of success than one who is simply
pushed into something for which there is neither liking nor
interest.

He used to talk about his sister who I never had an oppor-
tunity of meeting and perhaps it was just as well since the two
of them did not get along well together. Apparently the sister
was the favorite, getting everything she wanted while Carl
had to manage as best he could. After thinking about Carl and
his environment I have sometimes thought that perhaps he
gave in to others too easily when he should have stood his
ground and demanded fair treatment from his parents, especi-
ally from his mother who seemed to thwart his ambitions. It is
always easy to see what other people should do but not so
simple to solve one’s own problems, so we should not be too
harsh regarding others, especially when we do not possess all
the facts.

Carl used to speak with affection when mentioning
his father with whom he had a very good relationship, so this
helped balance the situation which otherwise would have been
sterile, and resulted in a useless life. Carl spoke often about his
father, and it seemed that his mother had a dictatorial man-
ner, but father was kind and easy-going. Although I never had
the pleasure of knowing him, since he had passed away some
months before Carl and I first met, I always found it of great
interest to hear about him and his naturally pleasant person-
ality.

The black cat, John, had been a close companion, especially in the later days, sitting on the lap of the invalid, Carls father, who suffered ill-health for some time before finally departing to happier realms. Carl used to tell how it was such a blessing they had this cat who seemed to have the gift of comforting the older man, and how when the invalid passed away John pined and suffered a great feeling of loneliness.
I learned also that the full title of the black cat was Johnny Shanko. Later Mr. Johnny Shanko had to be put to sleep, he had to be sent ‘home’ before his time, because the family life had been disrupted and the others were moving a long distance, to another part of England, where it was not possible to take him. Sometimes I have wondered, though, whether a way could have been found if the mother had displayed more patience regarding the situation. Even as Carl was telling me all this I could sense the emotion he was feeling as he related the incident which ended so sadly. Still, we now had the pleasure of Mr.T. Catt’s company, for if Johnny Shanko had lived out his full time on earth he would not have come to us in the form of the Tiger Lilly. So-it’s an ill wind that profits nobody!

Please allow me to explain something. If the preceding
remarks seem somewhat odd to any person who reads them, I
suggest they read all of the books of T. Lobsang Rampa, a
name which is known the world over. It may be there are those
who do not understand such things as reincarnation, the Law
of Kharma etc., so by reading the above author’s works they
will understand these things and they will realize how black
cat Johnny Shanko could return to the earth as Mr. T. Catt, to
finish the life span which had been denied him previously
when, unhappily, he was sent to his heavenly home a few years
too soon. It can be very comforting to acquaint oneself with
these truths, which eliminate the sadness one normally experi-
ences on losing a pet, just to know we will meet again on this
earth plane or the next, where we can be together, knowing no
parting. If you read the aforementioned books you can lead a
fuller, richer life, provided you take them seriously, for they
are all true books, the whole eighteen of them, and there may
yet be another, making nineteen altogether.

A great dea1 of fiction has been written about Carl and
about Lobsang Rampa who followed, because the Press, as
ever, prefer to make everything sensational, treating people in
a derogatory manner. Carl’s father was the Chief Water En-
gineer of the district in which he lived in the town of Plymp-
ton, Devonshire, but the Press preferred to describe him as
being in the capacity of a plumber. Now what difference it
makes whether Carl was the son of a baker, a tailor or a
candlestick-maker I could never fathom, except it seemed to
provide a certain amount of satisfaction to the media and a few
zealous individuals who were egging them on, and by des-
cribing someone as being a plumber’s son they hoped to
denigrate him and tried to influence certain publishers to
refuse to publish Lobsang Rampa’s books. So it can be seen
what jealousy and spite can do when a man is rather different
and possessed of a superior mentality, something those people
who were trying to pull him down, failed to understand. But it
has always been something of a puzzle to me what is wrong
with being a plumber-and wasn’t Christ the son of a carpen-
ter, a worker with wood.

Water or wood-what’s the difference?-We need both, and why should a stigma be attached to either a plumber or a carpenter? According to what we read about the life of Christ he was mocked, derided, and finally stoned and crucified, and to me this is an indication that all great entities, great men and women who have come to the earth ahead of their time, are resented and persecuted just because they are not understood, and because they are in possession of greater knowledge, and are more advanced, than are most earth people. They become suspect and people of the earth do not understand. It is said that what people do not understand they fear and try to destroy, so that could well be one reason these higher beings have such a hard time trying to do their tasks and getting their message over.
We of the earth believe ourselves to be very clever, but this does not prevent us from trying to destroy what we do not understand! It is very fortunate for those creatures such as the Yeti (the so-called abominable snowman), the Loch Ness monster and the humanoid types who are reported occasionally to emerge from Unidentified Flying Objects, it is fortunate indeed that as far as we know none of these creatures have been captured by humans. Bah! Sometimes I feel ashamed to belong to the human race.

CHAPTER TWELVE
We must remember that a few years ago conditions were quite different from what they are at the present time, and I used to enjoy listening to Carl while he told of how his family had lived in the last county but one in the southern part of England, his home being in Devonshire, just one county before Cornwall, where we find Land’s End.

The ancestral home was not far from Plymouth and the
name of the actual place-Plympton, and at that time there
was a vast distinction between certain classes of people. Carl’s
family lived in what was known as Mayoralty House, because
it used to be the home of the Mayor; it was a very big house,
set on the side of a sloping driveway, and it sported five separ-
ate floors which necessitated a fair amount of domestic help
to keep it in good condition. The lower floor at the front was
underground, owing to the sloping driveway, but at its distal
end there were wide French windows which opened out on to a
garden of around three acres; which also needed one gardener
at least. In the garden, and to the left, was a stone house with
windows of colored glass, where frequently some of the
neighborhood cats wandered; they would emerge after a time,
looking bemused and almost cross-eyed due to different light-
ing effects.

The first part of the garden was a miniature lawn which had
the model of a fort and cannons around it. Beyond that one
could walk down a few steps and there was a large fish pond,
containing goldfish, goldfish who were trained to pull on a
string when they felt it was feeding time. I would sit there
spellbound as Carl unfolded the experiences of his early life.
The aforementioned pond had a center-piece, a boy holding
two wheels, and when a tap was turned on water would come
spouting from the nozzles, and music would come forth as the
water rotated the wheels. To the left of the pond was a large
aviary built against a south wall; it was very spacious and
people would go inside and walk around leisurely.

It is hoped that those who read Tiger Lily will not feel
uninterested and bored with these descriptions, but I believe
most readers will be fascinated just as I was when I mentally
pictured the whole scene as it unfolded before me. As Carl
related all that which was new to my ears he had the ability to
make everything come alive. I felt I was really there, literally,
LIVING amongst all this handiwork which had been achieved,
greatly by nature, with the help of man.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Our interlude over, it might be a good idea to return to the main story of Tiger Lily before we completely lose the trend because I rather enjoy living in, and writing about, the present. This is understandable as I am so much more contented these days, having the benefit of past experiences behind me and which I can utilize to make, I hope, life a little pleasanter for those other members of my family. You see, I used to suffer from moodiness, and it caused Carl much distress to see me apparently so dissatisfied. We were not without our misunderstandings and often failed to see a situation in the same light; of course this led to most difficult moments, resulting in much unhappiness for Carl, who was an extremely sensitive person.
There was one nice aspect of it though, and that was that he never harbored any sort of resentment-after a little while all would be over and he would be as usual. Not so with the Ra’ab who would ‘dwell’ on a subject, magnifying out of all proportion the remarks which had been passed and acting like the elephant ‘who never forgets’. Now that Ra’ab knows more about such things she realizes the difference in the make-up of each person, and understands that trying to control the ‘lion’ and the ‘bull’, especially when combined in the same person is perhaps a big undertaking, both creatures being strong-willed and given to remembering grievance, real or imagined.

Something which used to aggravate me was to be the object
of a practical joke, but now I see I was merely being childish.
I was too ‘stuffy’ . . . How would anyone like to be pushed
out of bed, just for fun? But, behind it all, even then I knew there
was something more to life than just enjoying yourself and
getting what you could out of it. I knew that if I tried to evade
the situation, avoid my responsibilities, something, even some-
one, somewhere, would be affected, and that my action, were I
to defect from the path I had taken, could become a major
problem and at least result in great personal loss.

It gave me
great satisfaction, in our more placid moments when Carl
would say that his present life was the happiest he had ever
known, and that he found my companionship very satisfying.
In the early days of our acquaintance he used to tell me that
from the spiritual and mental angle alone he would have found
my outlook just as interesting whether I had been a man or a
woman! I interpreted that as being a delightful tribute to
another human being, and it was his custom to utter such
remarks at unexpected moments.

In the early days I used plenty of ‘make-up’ in the way of
beauty aids and this did not appeal to him at all. He used to
say, ‘Ra’ab, you know exactly the amount of make-up you
need to make you look attractive to the right degree!’ This
went on until finally I gave up altogether because that was
what he liked best. No doubt but that he had used a bit of
psychology there. Still, if you don’t want to please your
husband, who else matters? It is said that women often dress
for each other, and often not to the other’s advantage-they
try to vie with each other and one can only come to the con-
clusion that they are so lacking in self-confidence that each one
tries to out-do the other to make up for this feeling of inferior-
ity!!!

Before I knew Carl I had my picture taken, and I gave it to
him after we met; to my surprise I saw it hanging on the wall
of his apartment one day and he had altered it. ‘What hap-
pened to my earrings,’ I wanted to know. ‘Oh, I painted them
out,’ quoth he, I didn’t like them!’ Carl could not bear arti-
ficiality in any form and I used to be reminded of the Pharaoh
Akhenaten, ‘the heretic’ as I have always had an overpowering
interest in Egyptology. This Pharaoh, who is described as
being physically deformed, refused to be depicted in any other
way than in his natural state. While on the subject of Egypt I
am trying to think how I came to be known by the Egyptian
name of ‘Ra’ab’. It just seemed to happen and if anyone were
to use any other I would hardly realize they were addressing
me. Sometimes I think the word is diminutive of a longer
name but I am not bothered about that, having been called
many things in my lifetime, but Ra’ab is one of the nicest!
Still, names do mean something-one has heard of an actor
or actress who had no luck at all, made no headway until they
changed their name, and then the floodgates opened and sud-
denly they were acclaimed wherever they went. Some names
seem to bring ill-luck, misfortune and lack of progress while
others are harmonious and protective. I know a person who
changed just one letter in his name (he actually added a letter)
with the intention of bringing him better business results.

Well, while we lived in Weybridge the time came when we
changed our name and as this has all been described in As It
Was, one of Lobsang Rampa’s most recent books, there is no
need for me to go into deep detail regarding the reasons and
decision for the change. This I do know, though, we had to put
up with a lot of unkindness and even sarcasm from the highest
position-a certain ‘gentleman’ in high authority finding it
amusing to compose a piece of doggerel in as cutting a manner
as he could muster and keep repeating it! Yes, we had a
share-and perhaps more than a share-of harshness directed
towards us, not least when Carl had the impression (or was he
instructed, but what’s the difference!) to wear an Eastern type
of clothing and to grow a beard. I have very good reason to
believe that some of those persons who thought we were crazy,
are not feeling so well these days; some of them are this side of
the veil of life, the remainder on the other, where it is too late
to make amends, and all they can do is to wail at Lobsang
Rampa for their blindness. Some of those who were intended
to pave the way for him-‘in the future’, the future which has
been, is, and will be. Sometimes one feels a little sympathy
towards those who were told, even warned, about their purpose
in life but chose to ignore the message and are now bound to
the earth, either in the incarnate or discarnate state. Having
missed their opportunity they must wait for varied periods
until they can see their mistakes, and again tune in to the ‘life
cycle’ at some future date; meanwhile, they wallow in their
remorse and regrets.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It is very easy to become bitter, to feel disenchanted, and to blame everything
and everybody for one’s woes instead of taking a hard look at oneself and realizing
that is where most, if not all, of the trouble lies. Some people are inclined to declare
the whole system to be wrong, blaming the establish-ment for their lack of
success, or their parents for not guiding them into the right paths, or the fact
that there is no work to be had (perhaps only work which is not sufficiently
superior for their imagined talents), thus so many hippie types decide to do nothing at all.
The above is not an idle statement for, on looking back to
my youth I can still hear myself saying, anytime I might be in
trouble (trouble being as prevalent in family life as in any
other segment of humanity) ‘Well, I didn’t ask to be born!’
It was some years later before I realized the foolishness of that
remark-for now I know that we all plan to be born, even
though the plan may have become somewhat altered from
what we had intended. The truth of this was brought to my
mind more vividly a few days ago as I re-read Lobsang
Rampa’s book I Believe which devotes almost two-thirds of its
pages to that very subject. So the blush of ignorance should by
this time have faded, as gradually I have come to realize the
truth.

Perhaps now it is time to return to Weybridge and Tiger
Cat, he who brought happiness into our lives, and who is still
around in another form, and who will greet me happily when
the time comes for me to enter the land where he now dwells.
Mr. T. Catt was obviously quite excited and full of antici-
pation when he was first allowed to wander around the three
and a half acres all on his own but his human ‘Mama’ was
quite apprehensive at first. I believe I touched on this in the
earlier pages of this book but some people do not seem to mind
a little repetition. Perhaps I am following the method of some-
one else, or one might use the excuse that as one becomes older
repetition is not an unusual occurrence.

So the Tiger spent the greater part of his life in the Wey-
bridge area, and when the time came that we were to leave, it
was a big wrench for him, which I did not realize fully at that
time. The first night after we left (and it was not even to a far
distant place) he just sat, neither ate any food nor visited the
bathroom until the next day. His ‘Ma’ was something of an
ignorant Ra’ab in those days and it was Carl who had the
understanding, but perhaps Ra’ab is gradually realizing that
these little people need more attention and consideration than
many of us are prepared to give. As I may have said before,
cats are extremely sensitive, and the so-called domestic feline
cannot bear to be laughed at-he will laugh with you (who-
ever heard of a cat laughing, someone will say) but please
refrain from laughing at him.

Siamese Cat People are probably even more sensitive, but
for some reason, I believe, they do not mind their Human
People teasing them a bit-it seems that what matters to them
is that their family (human and feline) should be happy. But
Siamese cannot bear to be left alone. The other day Mama
San was practicing a bit of time and motion study and our
present Cleo was sitting by the front door of the apartment
while Mama prepared breakfast, sitting dreaming, probably,
and tuned in to my thoughts.

I decided I would prepare breakfast in no more than seven minutes,
partly because I wanted to
sit down at the table on the hour to listen to the seven o’clock
news, undisturbed. All went well, with about a minute and a
half to spare, so off I trotted along the corridor, to the far end,
feeling extremely pleased with myself, and gazing proudly at
the tray of food which I had prepared. Just as I reached the
doorway of the tiny suite leading to the bedroom where the
meal was anxiously awaited, bonk, crash, and the whole thing
went down, leaving me with empty hands. Soon a figure ap-
peared and another concerned voice called out: ‘Whatever
happened?’ and I said, ‘Sure, an’ I don’t know!’ while I
sensed cats literally flying to hide in their bedroom and for a
few seconds the world seemed to be collapsing around me.
Since that time I have learned that it is not possible to
maneuver a tray through a small doorway, while keeping
one’s elbows bent outwards-so that was my first and only
attempt at studying ‘time and motion’. As far as Cleo and her
sister Taddy were concerned, it just ‘made their day’ in retro-
spect, even if at the moment of happening it was a calamity,
nothing short of an earthquake.

On reflection I have come to realize that a cat can easily
become a very lonely person-although they can understand
humans by following the thoughts of humans, many, perhaps
most, humans are totally unaware of what message the cat is
trying to convey to the human. A few months ago, I read of a
so-called domestic cat, ‘the family pet’ as they are sometimes
referred to, who, in the wake of a fire in the house aroused the
occupants and saved them from a fiery death. Now if the cat
had been able to yell ‘Hey, the house is on fire,’ the alarm
would have been quicker and there would have been less panic.
The other day a young man wrote remarking, ‘I have always
looked upon cats as being dumb!’ ‘Poor young man,’ I
thought, ‘you are the one who is dumb!’

So we are still in Weybridge and we spent one of the coldest
winters ever in that environment, in the latish 1940s, when
everything was frozen up. An apartment situated over a
garage was not the warmest place at any time and I had a soda-
water siphon in a cupboard in the hallway which not only
froze but actually exploded. What a mess!

We were quite concerned about Mr. T. Catt, sitting on his
chair and looking quite miserable. He was sitting on a blanket
and I placed another over him hoping for the best; in those
days I was afraid that if I put a rubber hot water bottle near
him he might claw it and suffer harm from the hot water.
Things have changed now and I have no qualms about using
this method of comforting cool cats who can, and, do, enjoy
such a luxury even when the temperature is around eighty de-
grees Fahrenheit and whatever it is in our ‘Celsius’.   Siamese
cats seem to feel chilled more than other species, and I wonder
if it is partly because their fur is shorter than most.   I would
warn those who contemplate heating their cat with a hot water
bottle to make sure the cork, the stopper, is screwed tight, so
do not prepare it absentmindedly as I have done once or twice
and soaked the soft fabric upholstered love seat of my present
people.   Being of a striped material it is now a mottled mixture
of blues, greens, red and yellows, etc.

No doubt many readers may remember the great freeze-up
about 1947, for it was discussed at length in England!
Our stay in this particular district would soon be drawing to
a close but we were not yet aware of the change.   Carl, as time
went on, often used to appear withdrawn, as though he had
things on his mind, which indeed he had.   Sometimes I felt a
little lost and affected with a feeling of loneliness, although I
knew change was in the offing.   Loneliness has always been one
of my big problems and I know that it was all within myself.
It has been only in the past few years that this attitude has
changed and these days I mostly feel exactly the opposite.
Perhaps the passing years have brought me to my senses-
though I would not like to put the question to my family since
you never know what they might come up with in the way of
an answer!

Carl was working very hard, his health had always been
poor (he was classed grade four as far as army ‘call up’ was
concerned), and that was one of the main reasons we took
accommodation near his place of employment. Like many
others of his day he received insults for not joining the ‘forces’
and remained shocked and silent when one day he received
anonymously, by mail, the white feather which we all know is
intended to indicate cowardice!!!

There was much work accumulating at the office and Carl
was writing articles and things of that nature, at the instigation
of his boss, all of which proved to be quite harassing, especi-
ally since he received neither praise nor recognition for his
work. There was a lot of ill-feeling and jealousy because Carl
was able to do more than the others, and it was a really un-
happy time, the credit always going to the person for whom the
writing was done, and never to Carl.

Eventually we decided it was time for a change, and in a
way this was forced upon us, but I must make it clear that it
was OUR decision to terminate the association because we were
not unaware of the rumors which stated Carl had been
‘sacked’, ‘fired’ or whatever word one uses in each country.
The boss finally wanted me to do some work also, unpaid of
course, such as taking telephone calls and any odd jobs but the
Lion part of the Ra’ab had enough to do and was not willing
to collaborate. Thus we decided we would change our course.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The place we were bound for was on the way to London, past
Walton-on-Thames and Esher, not very far from Kingston-on-Thames,
and Sorption which was slightly closer and smaller. The nearest big place
for shopping was Kingston-on-Thames where the big department store
of Bentall’s was a great attrac-tion. These days we are so used to the
mammoth shopping centers that a place such as Bentall’s might almost
go un-noticed.
It was something of an upheaval for us as we had spent such
a long time at Weybridge but we were not sorry to be leaving.
Apart from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, then Princess,
passing through the edge of our town, and all the activities of
the war, very little remains in my mind. Our car had been sold
so we had to resort to a rental service, but we had very few
items to take with us, other than clothing but even that was
quite sparse. The greatest wrench was for the Tiger who was
now leaving the only home he had ever known, and he had
never left the place even for a night. He was obviously quite
upset and on the day of leaving I had to call on a neighbor
with a message and I was delayed because she wanted to chat.

On my return I found Tiger Cat had almost, if not quite,
suffered a seizure, and was most upset. Fortunately Carl was
with him and I am sure he managed the matter better than I
would have been able. It was going to be a real hardship to be
without a big garden, nice and clean surroundings, and have to
be shut up within two rooms, not even ‘communicating’ but
due to various circumstances there was no alternative.

The landlady at Thames Ditton seemed very anxious to
have us as tenants, even going to the extent of having a dis-
agreement with a previous tenant, thus making it possible for
us to have two rooms, since we had made it clear that we
would not contemplate only one. The time must have been
around August or perhaps September, it is one of the dates I
cannot exactly recall, which is unusual for me who has never
had much trouble in that direction. What I do remember is
how we used to sit in the small garden at the back of the house,
in the late summer evenings, and how we suffered from huge
mosquito bites, caused, no doubt, by huge mosquitoes.

It was not a happy time, by any stretch of the imagination,
everything was inconvenient and one felt out of place in that
area, which seemed to be off the beaten track. We had a com-
munal bathroom and fixed up a cooking stove in one of the
rooms, a quite illegal procedure now, I suppose, and the land-
lady was quite temperamental, one who thought she could rule
the’|boarders’. She spent a lot of her time in her room, and she
gave us to understand she was a sort of ‘Ann Landers’ who
dealt with queries from correspondents, for a fee, and judging
from her conversation she acted in the capacity of a kind of
fortune teller! At any rate she was a good source of income for
the mail office.

This lady was of a strong character, and to those who be-
lieve in reincarnation one might rightly come to the conclusion
that she (or he) had been of some importance in other lives-in
her present life she had been in close contact with a high-
personage in Asia, while acting as though she was still in that
environment. Her out-of-date clothes showed she had defin-
itely belonged to the upper class and, though quite elderly, she
had a young man companion! How I wish I could convey a
picture telepathically, clairvoyantly, or whatever, because I
doubt if I can conjure up the words to describe one episode.
We were still with Madame at Christmas time, and as is the
custom, most people enjoy the feeling of friendship for that
day at least. Something like going to church on Sundays and
being more or less enemies until next Sunday.

Well, our bedroom was right opposite that of Madame, and
we could hear the rustling of paper and loud breathing as we
were retiring on Christmas Eve. The next thing we heard was
a terrible clattering noise as ‘something’ rolled down the stairs,
immediately followed out of the door by Madame, minus her
wig, who had emerged to see what on earth was happening. It
seemed she had wrapped up a can of cat food, or similar, as a
gift for Mr. T. Catt, then came out and left it at the head of
the stairway, where it had stayed a few seconds until she was
back in her room, and then began half rolling and half boun-
cing down the stairs. No, I do not think that is half so good a
description as if one cou