I must finish my thought. I have been in a wonderful place all day, into the night, contemplating, holding, exploring, loving such a great light, loosely translated in the way the snow is falling, the woody smell of coffee hanging like a cloud in this little home, the way my nightgown now hangs off my body.
I’ve been a shuffling magician today, an American Gandhi, a bestower of blessing and hope. Everything has felt so golden today, so singularly beautiful, so mysterious. So deep runs my river now. So calm lies the body of my true love. So serene do the objects glow within my field.
I awoke today with the thoughts with which I wish to put myself to sleep.
This morning I was told, understood, breathed into and breathed from an understanding which came once the body flush had passed. I saw me as a big being, a tall being, living on the upper floors of a very large home. I realized that the me who works as a nurse, who struggles to find peace with her family, who stumbles and falls and is in debt and can’t seem to keep her house tidy, she has taken refuge with the bigger me for many months. She has let things go, caught up in ecstasy and understanding, remaining, for all these months so deeply awake.
The one who cannot keep her eye on the ball, who has let her house fall into disrepair, what other conclusion could there have been? And really, has it been all that bad? Tomorrow it will be 9 months to the day since I awakened. I have lived within a prolonged symphony of recognition and love, for nine straight months.
Tomorrow is a birth day of sorts.
It is no accident that I rarely can look at my clock without seeing messages now. I see 1212, 444, 111, 1111, 333 555 and 711 all the time. All the time. All the time.
I know that I am on the right track now.
I know that I am so deeply home within my skin that it may now take a tractor beam to lift me out of this flesh.
I am unafraid.
I am confident.
Is it any coincidence that I have been cloistered for nearly two weeks, reduced to banging away on this computer, because there is no work, and there is no money?
Is it any coincidence that during the last few days, since the 21st, I have required no food? I realized last night I had not eaten since the Sunday evening meal I shared with my dad.
And is it any coincidence that tonight, headachy and tired and longing only for Seth’s crystalline understandings, I am excited about tomorrow?
I will find a job tomorrow, a good one, with good people, where the money and work is plentiful, the unreasonable demands few, the leaders fit and the colleagues kind. I will be guided tomorrow, and I will have nice little signs throughout, on signage and license plates and songs on the radio.
My receiver is wide open, and I expect my guides, my family, will be just as active in the physical as they have been with me on these purer planes on which I have been pacing.
I will find a way to move from here to there. In that there, there is abundance, miracles, unexpected good, deep and constant recognition, because there is here.
I can no longer hate my fellow man. I can no longer hate you, speak unkind words to you, or find fault with you. Even when you are ground down by your own boot, I love you, because I know you. I am you.
How can I hate someone who has disabled their body by gaining weight? I know the pain of being fat.
How can I hate someone whose intolerance leaks onto me like a poison, who hates me before they have allowed me to speak? How can I hate you, timid one? Frightened one? I understand your terror, and I remember that sweet pain of righteous indignation. I do not hate you. I cannot hate you. I know your pain and want only to soothe it, to soothe you. To remind you that there is nothing at all to fear.
And how can I hate those who cannot love me as I am, who continue to punish me for the mistakes the bigger part of me compels me to make? I have made grand, elaborate, complicated messes. I have fouled every recess of this old house of mine, the one I have carried with me through childhood, adulthood, maturity.
And had I had more sense, more discipline, I could have avoided all the messes I wound up making. Had I had better people skills, crisper executive function, more interest, I could have climbed up any ladder I’d decided to put in my way.
Something always had me stumbling. Something always kept me small and afraid and silent. Awkwardly mismatched, embarrassingly foreign, deeply ashamed. Oh so ashamed. Of being human, of being weak, of being impatient and petty and afraid and tired.
And now I lay those burdens down. They are not mine to carry any longer. The bigger part of me made sure I understood down into the core of my soul the meaning carried within the sound that“disappointment” makes in your ear when someone you really really love whispers to you that, when the truth is told, this is what you will ever be.
I had to understand to the depths of me a separation which nearly led to insanity, to suicide. I have known highs and I have known lows. And I no longer think it petty, unclassy or shameful to discuss it.
Call this what you will, confessional tripe, grandstanding, whatever you think it is, because I tell you now, I am in rhythm with my soul now. I am home now. And I am good now. There isn’t a thing out of place now. There is no more imbalance. There is only harmony and curiosity and surrendering into a long forgotten embrace of forgiveness.
My burdens have already turned into birds, they are already free to give the gift of song to the newly awakened, and to sing through the night for those who cannot sleep for their loneliness and hopelessness and unexplainable, unspeakable sadness.
I have grieved for this whole world in my day. It is no small thing for me to write these words, and it is no shameful act to write words so true, so drenched in a love I could never have known, until that blessed moment that I finally came to love my self.
Last night my son said, as he sometimes does, “I’m sad, but I don’t know why.” We followed that thought, and he said, “I feel like there is a disconnection between you and me. I feel like it’s how the internet comes through sometimes more than other times. I feel like we are at three bars, but there are five bars, and I really want four bars. Four bars would feel best tonight.”
Stunned, I asked him to tell me more. He said that three bars feels better than two, but four would be better. I asked him what I could do to help the connection come up to four bars. He told me he’d like to go shopping with me. He’d like to go for walks, or go somewhere, and he’d like it if I would make him stop everything and just keep him company.
It dawned on me then that I have also cloistered him through this experience. Gladly he has gone within as well, absorbing all he could, patiently bringing me back to earth. They refer to him as “the King”, never as Sam, my guides. Sam pulled me to back earth the very first time I encountered the face of God, in March, in our living room, after Sam and I had had a long discussion about love. Had it not been for Sam, I would have left then and there. It was my first taste of divine bliss. It was intoxicating. But it was short lived, because, unexpectedly, from his hallway, came a small, “Mom?”
I didn’t include it, but during that whole casino conversion episode, he called me intermittently, four times, but he never called when I was unconscious. Always when I was recovering. He’d ask if he could have a sleep over, if I would leave his ID on the table, on and on. Sam gets the credit for reviving me. He set something within me that had been broken. I am deeply indebted to him. I cannot love him enough. No truer words were ever written.
My ex-husband is another sainted soul in this now, curiously enough. The only one in my current reality who has never shamed my weirdness, and who, to this very day, refuses to shame me and punish me for the mistakes I make. He loves me, and I know his love is deep and true. And I love him, I owe him all good things. I wish only to return to him that which has made the last few years livable for me.
My sister, my dad, my best friend Diane, my companions and earth angels, my teachers of esoterica and researchers of the paranormal, they are too numerous to count. My way has been littered with goodwill and hope. I was too focused on the mechanics, too unsure, too scared.
I was the consummate actor. This is Method acting at its height. I believed the stinkers, the real bad things to believe about myself and others and life. I said the words in all sincerity. I acted as if. And I had everyone convinced that I wouldn’t amount to much, that I was intractably odd, too different to ever be accepted.
Now others will want to be accepted by me, because they will understand that is all I can give now. I want to love, and I want to soothe, and I want to be outdoors, in the sunshine, and I want to suit up and give nursing care again. I want to get involved with people and communities again, because after this long sojourn I have made, I finally understand that no one can hurt me.
Their cruelty and meanness and pettiness and desire to control and dominate, it just doesn’t hook me now. You can’t hurt me anymore. Doesn’t that feel good? And I can’t hurt you anymore. Interesting! We hurt ourselves, we heal ourselves.
And we’ve never ever done any of it alone. Ever.
The ethers are thick with help.
There is a movement upon this earth that is in fruition.
There is absolutely nothing to fear. There is no death, there is no pain and there is no fear here.
I know tomorrow I will have to return to the daily routine. The beast is gnawing at my ankles and has a ravenous look in its eyes. It has puffed itself up and is trying its best to scare me. So I will appease it by acknowledging its true nature. It is a warning. It is a reminder.
It is a gift from God to remind me to pay attention now to the little stuff. The little stuff is not petty or painful now. It’s just this big process, taking tea with the giant upstairs, placed back where it belongs: in the microcosm, in the present moment, in physicality, in 3D.
I now return to my life, nine months later, and I step into this new life physically lighter, mentally sharper, and more compassionate than I have ever been. I have wanted always to resonate with unconditional love. That has been my secret life goal. I set my sights on it in council with The Teachers. I thought it was unattainable. It is not. It is here. And I want you to have it. Here.