Posted by: Noni | July 17, 2020

Serendipitous Inspiration

Chapora Goa, India

Sometimes we find inspiration in the most unlikely places. Last night I lay in bed thinking about how I’ve been procrastinating on finishing a project. I identified fear as the primary explanation; fear of rejection, repercussions/retaliation, alienation and a cursed blend of both fear of failure and success.  I‘d held many secrets over the years but it wasn’t until an investigative journalist inadvertently exposed my identity that I felt compelled to create documentation, both to protect me and to expose my truths.

On May 1st, 2019 I landed in New Delhi where I would embark on another of many life changing adventures. I had hired a cameraman from Kerala who would also be my guide/interpreter as we filmed in spectacular locations around India. On July 18th we parted, Ragesh for home in Kerala and me with over 20 hours of footage, caught the night bus from Mumbai to Mapusa.  

A daunting task lay ahead. It would take weeks to review and assess the material before preparing it for publication. I had pre-arranged lodging in Goa for the 3 month long monsoon season. Unrealistically, I thought that would be plenty of time. Now, one year later, the project is in its final stages but I’m unhappy with the website, don’t feel satisfied with the visual presentation of the content and am overwhelmed at the amount of work yet needed bring it to an acceptable state.

Living in a foreign country during the global Corona Virus lockdown has been a unique opportunity for me. Daily observation of the locals, following governmental policies, studying medical and logistical response to the pandemic, monitoring global news (from an Eastern perspective) and analyzing data from international sources has proved to confirm my position that the entire world is choking the grips of power hungry billionaires. I know now, more than ever, my stories resonate with important truths that beg to be heard. 

I prayed for a sign that I was on the right track. Insecurities were crippling my passion and drowning my convictions.  Despite a leaning towards being an anti-vaxxer, I knew I needed a proverbial shot in the arm.

This morning I got it, a double dosage.

I woke up well rested and tidied my desk as water boiled for coffee. The power had been off all night so I hastily plugged in my electronics to recharge. I picked up a booklet which sat atop an accumulation of receipts, post cards, cryptic notes scribbled on scraps of paper on the corner of my desk.

World Heritage Series, OLD GOA

I had purchased the World Heritage publication last summer while touring India. My plans were to spend monsoon season holed-up in an apartment in Shiolim, near OLD GOA, where I could review recordings and edit text transcriptions. The booklet provided a sneak peek of the southern state I was scheduled to move to. 

Unfortunately or not, a series of events derailed the 3 month strategy putting the project on a much slower trajectory.  Delays, broken commitments, weak communication and unfair transactions with collaborators gave me a harsh lesson on business practices in India. The setbacks gave me the chance to reinvent and reform my marketing and social media strategies.

I opted to push aside new deadlines in order to enjoy Goa’s festive tourist season but what I didn’t forecast would be further delays when COVID19 infected the planet. I lost additional momentum for the storytelling project when I shifted my attention to the global pandemic. 

The past 4 months have been packed full with investigation, research and verification but with minimal satisfaction. Eventually I lost interest in reading propaganda and articles from the United Nations (et al) on their plans for a New World Order. The futility of the situation frustrated me.  Each day I spent increasingly more time retreating into nature and less time actually writing and working. Pointless exchanges on social media swallowed up huge chunks of time. I found more and more problems and less and less solutions. 

Besides the obvious upsets brought on by the lockdown, I experienced a series of emotional upheavals in the past year including, but not limited to, depression, anxiety and fear.  They were not COVID induced but rather the results of dredging up my personal story. 

I had set the intention to rise early this morning and do some writing. I examined the booklet about Historic Old Goa and realized a full year had passed and I still hadn’t visited. I settled in a comfortable chair and sipped my coffee as I read about the history, architectural styles and Christian indoctrination bought by the Portuguese.  

Skimming the introduction and a section outlining the history of Goa, one particular name drew my attention, Ibn Battuta.

Ibn Battuta visited Goa in AD 1342

A flood of images and memories surfaced from my time spent in the United Arab Emirates. During 2008 and 2009 I had lived in a Dubai housing development appropriately named, The Gardens. It was a well established community with recreational areas, swimming pools and ample green space surrounding the residential blocks. My apartment was located within a 5 minute walk of the famed Ibn Battua Mall which offered everything from grocery stores, to restaurants, to movie theaters. 

I sat staring at the name in the book. It brought me back to a critical turning point in my story. The beginning of what was to become a nightmare for me. Dubai was where I met the man that would set me on a journey of love, betrayal and espionage. I considered the connection to Ibn Battuta a gentle nod from the Universe that I best get back to my writing.  But before I put the booklet down I was driven by curiosity to see who the publishers were. 

Good Earth Publications, New Delhi

I was momentarily taken aback as I read the name, Good Earth Publications. It didn’t sound like an Indian designation. Instead, my uncle Bruce sprang to mind. Bruce Young wrote a book in the 1970‘s called Hotel California.  The essay was the culmination of years of research plus a year of investigation directly in Mexico and neighboring Guatemala.  The contents, controversial both then and now, exposed manipulation by the United States government, powerful businessmen and the Central Intelligence Agency who through various contractors who were believed to be controlling oil resources south of the border.

After my first trip to South America I returned to Canada to pursue research of my own into dealings of mining companies who were devastating both the Andes Mountains and Amazon rainforest in Peru. In the course of my investigations I was reminded of the book and prompted to revisit its contents. I searched for a copy of the book online however none were to be found so in May 2017 I contacted my cousin John to see if he had a copy of his dad’s manuscript. 

I had vague memories of its contents having read it nearly 40 years prior. I wanted to confirm the possibility that uncle Bruce was forced to self publish because he had named names and called out the major players in a corrupted industry.

It must have taken Bruce Young tremendous courage to self publish especially after the tragedy of losing his wife.  On January 7th, 1976 my aunt, Brenda Young, was murdered in the family’s shop in North Vancouver. The Good Earth sold hippie fair; feather earrings and leather pouches, and a colorful collection of artwork, accessories and clothing from Mexico and Guatemala.  My uncle also named his publication entity, Good Earth. 

I come from a long line of journalists and writers. My grandfather relocated his wife and 4 sons from Scotland to Canada after the war. Harry Watson Young was a longstanding editor for the daily paper in my hometown of Victoria.   I was heavily influenced by the success of my elders and considered the coincidence of publisher’s names to be a nod of support from my long deceased uncle. If he could overcome tragedy and opposition to complete his task, so could I. 

I’ve always followed my instincts in times of indecision, while listening and watching for guidance from the Universe. Today I received two messages, one to remind me of the deception and heartbreak in my story and the second to bolster my confidence to complete and share it.

It’s as much a work in progress as I am so I better get busy and get it done!

Follow this link to discover Ally’s Thali on (video storytelling website)

The first 3 of 30 chapters are available now. Enjoy!

This morning’s inspirational moments demand release of the next three episodes.  Stay tuned…

~ Alison aka Noni


  1. Nice, but you seem to always find a way back to where you need to be. Love you lots.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yup, I always end up in the right place at the right moment. Love you xo


  2. Hi Alison. I hope you do not mind me contacting you this way. I came across your website whilst searching for Harry Watson Young who I had recently added to my family tree as another 3rd cousin of my father Eric James Misson [1908-1986]. Harry and his wife Caroline and their 4 sons left England from Southampton on the the liner Aquitania on the 27th July 1948 having previously lived in Glasgow. Harry’s mother was Gertrude Mary Watson [1877-1929] and his father was, I believe but not confirmed, Thomas S Young. Harry and my father were third cousins because they shared the same 2nd great grandfather Thomas Watson [1788-1835]. If you would like further details on Harry’s ‘Watson’ ancestry I would be very happy to send them to you.

    With best wishes

    Alan Misson

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Alan,
      I will forward this message to my cousin Jenny who is most familiar with our family history.
      Thanks for reaching out.
      Best to you.


    • Please send your email so I can correspond directly. Thanks Alan!


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