Yesterday was a bit of a horrible day, although in saying that my one line was “a perfect day” and it did work out perfectly even though at the time as Laurie insisted that I go to the doctors because my heart rate was through the roof and he was worried I might have a stroke. Which is what happened to my beloved Scottish grandfather Reginald (Reg) Fairweather. (As I type this, I am listening to Raymond Thompson’s The Spirit Symphony, and bagpipes are playing on the track “Movement 5.”)
I was sitting in at “The Doctors” our community medical centre, waiting for an hour. I was thinking, ‘I wish I were back home.’ When we had left, we had been rescuing Monarch Catepillars from predatory German wasps and a butterfly trapped in a spider’s web, and Laurie had pushed me in the swing beneath the giant oak tree.
And then we lay in the sun and watched the Kingfisher hunt.
So it wasn’t a coincidence that Raymond Thompson’s The Spirit Symphony turned up that day. Nor the butterflies and the caterpillars, nor my role as rescuer and rescued.
But as so often when you go with the flow, everything was so perfect.
I received really caring medical care in the doctor’s acute care centre. I was treated holistically and with compassion, expertise and a but of whimsy and delight. Not only was there a lovely Doctor Lucy, who had returned to Kerikeri after spending time in Wellington, but also a senior Doctor, a Scotsman who reminded me of my grandfather, Reg
And it was again like a miracle cure. I was offered both the option of taking medication, beta blockers which I knew Laurie disapproved of, so I called him in to feed into the consultation. Or just to make my own decision and monitor things and see what had happened and why my heart rate was so irregular and my blood pressure was through the roof.
The doctors had already accurately put it down to acute stress, wrought by my toxic family and siblings assaulting me again. Why? Because my hopeful heart wanted to believe that this time would be different.
After committing to no contact for my health, I responded to an email outreach, then a call, and then when that didn’t net the caller the result they wanted, a barrage of assaults when I again tried to close things down for my own wellbeing.
But no, they tried the same old manipulative, ‘me, me, me’ tricks.
But this time, like the butterfly I freed from the spider’s web, this time I am well and truly free
I think this is the biggest gift—the clarity I now have. Our health is truly our wealth and without that you’re screwed. You really cannot let people stress you out because these people are all temporary, and one day they’ll turn around, laughing all the way to the bank, getting on with their life of treachery and greed while you’re left in a wheelchair.
I didn’t know who he was.
Not the awards, not the television empire, not the music.
To me, he was simply the gracious man who owned a beautiful vineyard in Martinborough.
It was one of those Martinborough afternoons where the air shimmered like gold and the vines whispered secrets to the wind. We had come to his winery — a place that felt less like a business and more like a living, breathing work of art.
Raymond Thompson — storyteller, composer, visionary — moved with the ease of someone who had seen the world in all its colours.
✨ The world needs you. Exactly as you are.
His adult son was our waiter that day. A little shy, but warm in his way. I thought it was lovely — a father helping his son gain confidence, meeting people, learning the rhythm of service.
It wasn’t until later, as we lingered over a meal, the view and the wine, that Raymond mentioned something astonishing — an achievement of his son’s, something remarkable in technology or finance, the kind of success that changes the course of a life. It had made him incredibly wealthy.
Later, when his son returned to serve our desert, I turned to his son, delighted, and said, “Wow, that’s so amazing — your dad just told me what you did!”
And then everything changed.
He froze. His eyes widened in alarm. The colour drained from his face. In an instant, he turned and walked away, almost fleeing.
I was bewildered. What did I say?
Raymond’s voice was gentle. “He has Asperger’s,” he explained. And in that moment, so much made sense. My heart ached with the knowledge that my well-meaning words had been overwhelming for him.
Then, as our conversation meandered, he told me something else — a piece of his own story. His grandmother was Romany Gypsy. The way he said it was simple, but it carried a certain pride, a deep-rooted connection to a lineage that has always valued spirit, resilience, and the mysteries between worlds.
Perhaps that is why, as we prepared to leave, Raymond pressed a CD into my hands.
The Spirit Symphony. (I had it on CD but thankfully it is now available as a digital album. Click here.)
On the inside cover, in his looping hand:
“With my very best wishes, Ray.”
Inside, a dedication:
Keeping the dream alive.
Dedicated to kindred spirits everywhere.
The world needs you. To embrace you. Everything about you. Not solely the unique way in which you see the world, as well as the way you think, but your spirit which shines like the brightest star to ensure you will always triumph, scaling the highest mountains to the very heavens and far beyond. I salute you. Everything about you. And like the Spirit Symphony, I am there for you… To try somehow and ensure that the world sees you and understands you. — Raymond Thompson, MNZM
I didn’t know until yesterday (as I write it is 15 August 2025) much later how much those words would mean.
“Art is how Spirit speaks to you,” Kathy, Spiritual Medium and my Reiki Teacher
Yesterday was one of the most stressful days of my life — one that ended with me in acute care, my heart hooked up to an ECG, the monitor’s green line pulsing in time with my own anxiety.
When it was over, and I was finally back in the car, I reached into the back pocket of the seat — and there it was. The CD.
Waiting for me like a quiet reminder.
Keeping the dream alive.
Dedicated to kindred spirits everywhere.
It felt as if Raymond himself was saying, The world needs you. Exactly as you are. Looking back now, when I read the article on the foundation he set up to support his son and others with Aspergers, I feel there is a little bit of Aspergers in me—the obsessive fascination with so many things, the social anxiety I experienced as a child, the wish to be invisible—even wanting a table down the back of the room when I was planning my wedding so that no one could look at me.
On the website for the charity he created, he shares:
A Child’s Perspective of Asperger’s Syndrome
I have a special interest (eg train timetables) and I talk about it all the time. I take pictures of (trains). I draw (trains). I make (train) noises. I get really excited and don’t understand why you don’t want to talk about it as much as I do.
I sometimes get scared if there are too many people around me or if I see new people. I don’t even want to look at them or talk to them I want to be invisible. I can’t talk to people who work in shops or ask for my food at the burger place. I get too shy and a bit scared.
I sometimes believe exactly what you say – like if you tell me that people can die if they don’t drink water, I’ll drink water all the time, constantly. It will be on my mind a lot and will worry me. I won’t understand that a person can go for a few days without water before they die.
I know that I’m different and it troubles me. I just don’t understand how I’m different or why people tease me sometimes.
(you can read more, follow this link)
Are You The Women Who Paints Like a Child?
Which reminds me of the retiree, in his late 70s, an ex military man who tried to ball me out at a dinner party, “Are you the woman who paints like a child?”
Or the 60 year old nurse who lobbed at me, “My aren’t we a little princess.”
Or my grandmother and mother who attacked me over dinner one evening when I shared what I had learnt as a silver service waitress at a 5-star hotel where I worked when I left school for a short spell.
“You aren’t meant to clear the plates until everyone has finished.”
We’ll all hell broke loose! Cruel doesn’t even cut how they both laid into me. Let’s start with “You think you’re better than us! You’re vain. You’re selfish. You’re up yourself.”
And in that moment, I believed them.
But I don’t anymore.
I believe Ray.
Perhaps Ray saw that broken part of me, or that bright light that shines like a star all those years ago, which is why he shared personal things with me. Perhaps that is why, as we prepared to leave, Raymond pressed a CD into my hands.
The Spirit Symphony.
On the cover, in his looping hand:
“With my very best wishes, Ray.”
Inside, a dedication:
Keeping the dream alive. Dedicated to kindred spirits everywhere.
The world needs you to embrace you… not solely the unique way you see and think, but your spirit which shines like the brightest star… I salute you… and like The Spirit Symphony, I am there for you, to try somehow and ensure that the world sees you and understands you. — Raymond Thompson, MNZM
I didn’t know until much later, 15 years and counting, how much those words would mean. (it’s 11:01 as I write…another quiet obsession is repeating numbers!)
More from a child’s perspective…
I went in search of him today. On the internet, I’m saddened to learn that he passed in January 2025. But my heart knew he was walking beside me. I am so thankful I can download The Spirit Symphony and listen to my favourite tracks.
Last night, as I tried to heal my heart — my heart rate and blood pressure — I lay in the quiet of the night, listening to his beautiful, soaring music. A rose quartz crystal rested over my eyes. My tuning fork was attuned to my heart resonance. Beside me sat the giant amethyst crystal Laurie, my Knight Templar, gifted me for my birthday.
And then a miraculous healing occurred.
Yesterday — and probably the days before — my heart rate had been 165/100 and pulsing hard.
Today — 143/90.
I glanced at the clock. It was 11:10… and then, 11:11.
In that moment, I thought of what he once told me — that his grandmother was Romany Gypsy. A lineage that knows the language of spirit, the pathways of healing, and the unbroken thread between this world and the next.
And I realised: the dedication in my copy of The Spirit Symphony — Keeping the dream alive. Dedicated to kindred spirits everywhere — was not just words. It was a promise. One he is still keeping, far beyond the veil.
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ABOUT CASSANDRA
I am an artist, storyteller, intuitive guide, mentor and Reiki master. All my creations are infused with positive energy , inspiration, and light. I believe in magic and the power of beauty, joy, love, purpose, and creativity to transform your life. My greatest joy is helping your realize your dreams. That makes my soul sing!
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