There are a few things that I understand now that I did not understand previously. I am grateful for all the time I chose to spend squirreling away this knowledge from myself. It was very helpful to have spent so very many years in voluntary confinement. Just this side of sanity, I have finally stood in a light which has made all things right, all things clear, all things beautiful.
Let me explain.
I have now been introduced to Bashar, re-introduced. I understand that the black triangle I saw, well, it was only half true, the story I chose to give myself about it. The UFO overlay, the abduction and release story, all true, to a point. But it was not just I who had been cloaked.
The Teachers opened my energetic doors, reminded me of the language of a race I am very aligned with. Gave me the language, the structure of thought, to begin a journey which would lead to going as far into physical reality as I ultimately chose to go.
I sat listening to Bashar’s explanation of the 9 levels of consciousness, and the last 15 minutes were actually nothing more than a love letter from a dear dear friend, finally asserting itself within a physical structure which could finally, after all these years, contain that much light.
I sat, those last fifteen minutes of the video, or so, sitting in my recliner, and laughing my ass off. Honestly. I laughed until I cried, and then I laughed some more. Most all the lights are finally back on. Ha!
Yesterday was an unusually brilliant day. I left the house at 1:30, walked to the store, and then, because I had more than enough time, I walked through the park. Not on the paths, no, on the grass, between the trees, beside the still waters of our little creek.
Then I found a good spot, and sat. Then I rustled and stirred, walked, found another good spot. Sat. Thought. Laughed. And then another. This third spot, I laid down and decided to set my timer for the remaining time, before I knew the bus would deposit my kid on the hillside opposite the park. I set the timer and gave myself over to what comes next..
I looked up in the sky, and with every bit of me, I called ships to me. I asked to see my people. I thought about those youtube videos with that guy in California who calls ships to him. That world puja dude. That rancher I’ve heard talk on Coast to Coast. I want to see something. Come on. I know you are right there. Why deny me this?
Beg, beg, beg. Whine, whine, whine.
I finally just closed my eyes and drifted off. The sky had been crystal clear, robin’s egg blue. Just relax. Just give up. So I saw my heart open and blossom and a shaft of light go from here to way up there, calling them down, calling them down.
When I looked up in the sky, I can tell you, I was p.o.’d. No ship. No glimmery plasma. No big black triangle. Nothing. Son of a bitch.
Except, now that I come to think of it, there is a heart shaped cloud in the sky.
Holy crap. There it drifted, as obvious and clear as any spaceship would have been. A ripply white heart, floating in the sky. Then my attention was called to below the cloud, and I saw a being which looked like Sananda, somebody angelic and holy, and its hands and wings were offering up the heart. It was fascinating to watch. It stayed there far longer than I expected. l I took a picture of it, posted it on Facebook with the caption, “Do you see what I see?”, and when I looked back up after all that 3G high tech communicating, there hung the angel with a ball of white. Just drifting, just drifting.
Well, I thought, that is very nice. But the sky is impossibly clear. There are no more clouds in sight. That’s the end of the display. God damn it, I wanted miracles. All there is is that stupid contrail over there…
Bitch bitch bitch. Moan moan moan. Complain complain complain.
And then the contrail drifted into the puffy white ball, and it formed what looked to me like an ejection of pure white from a galactic core.
Honest to God.
Then I got bored, so I just focused on Collective Soul’s Home album, the last few cuts. Drifted off into their awarenesses.
Up came Better Now, and I realized I was going to do a crazy thing, and get up and dance. Yes, this old woman got up, faced the sun, closed her eyes, got a big dopey grin on her face, and danced like it was really nobody’s business. Not like a spaz, mind you, just like an old hippie having an acid flashback.
I danced, but noticed that I kept stumbling, fumbling. I felt weird, shaky. I swayed and moved, smiled and swayed. Judge me all you want, passersby, it’s only your envy to come and dance with me that makes you see me as foolish. You wish you could feel like the grown-up I am, playful and free, come dance with me! Please, come frolic with me, celebrate your happiness with me!
Then the song ended, and I settled again. But something told me to get up again, face the sun again, and listen.
I closed my eyes and saw orange. So much orange, and I really could do nothing but allow it to bake me right through, fire me.
The light changed, turned white. And I moved my head to see if that would change the brightness. It did not. I knew it wasn’t sunlight then.
I was then given some sort of mantle. That is the only word that I have for it. It is like a long jacket without sleeves, and they put it on me, and I told them that I accept this and will do as I am told. I will allow this to take whatever form it must. I will do this will, feel this and know this is mine.
I remembered other times when wearing this thing brought trouble. And even knowing it, I let them slip it on me. Not with foreboding, and not with celebration, either. More with a resigned, happy, simple cooperation.
I have no real idea what any of this is going to shake out looking like. Remember, I like surprises.
And then, today, coming home from walking my son to school, in the dark, with that full moon blazing, I kissed and hugged my son, told him I love him, Happy Halloween, and each energetic blessing was equally matched, equally reciprocated, and we parted in love, I began to walk home, and realized my joy called me back through the park.
I would listen consciously to that which I’d fallen asleep to, Bashar talking about the 9 levels of consciousness, and take the pretty way home. I’d denied it to myself yesterday morning.
Today, I decided, I’d like to be nice to myself. So I walked, and I listened. I went to my mailbox, and I listened. I got home, made some coffee, and I then resumed my listening.
Now, as I sit in this recliner, I know a few things that I did not before. I have an unusually lovely perspective.
From here, I have a couple things to say.
The opposite of love is not fear, and the mantra of lightworkers, that this reality is about choosing one or the other, well, it’s a really good place to start, but it’s just the beginning.
Love is the doorway, the path, the traveler, the luggage, the itinerary, the images contained in the photos from the trip. Love is the essence, it is the basis, and love’s purity, its intelligence, its magnificence only increases and expands. There is always more love. That vibration contains all, is all, creates all.
Fear then is part of it.
It is not a choice between fear or love.
It is the choice between up or down.
We keep drilling down, drilling down, trying to discover the basis, the facts, the underpinnings, the deeper meanings.
We have been looking in the wrong direction.
What lies below us is illusion. Above us comes the light, allowing all things to be. I am done spelunking the netherworlds. I am done mining my soul. I am done being com-pressed and confused.
I have spent so long in the void, so long compressed, depressed, small, because I had to create room, through time, for this much light and information and love and mercy and brotherhood. Do you see?
There is nothing in my old basement, our big basement of which I do not have intimate knowledge. I have done it all, gotten my hands real dirty, and in this lifetime alone I have done enough to be now well acquainted with most infirmities and sadnesses and losses and pain.
The suffering is there, but I am limbered up now, so that old tissue, once constricting me into almost a fetal ball, it is malleable, rubbery, non-existent, a trick of the light.
In meditation, I saw my soul as a clear glass chalice. And then I saw this crystal explode, implode, transmute into a galaxy, all shiny and spinny and dynamic and beautiful.
And in that state, I know that we are all this. We are all just slivers of the all, and from here I understand that I may now play with reality as a new creature. Today is the beginning of a brand new being, a brand new entity. More fully evolved, not ascended and not made of light but oh those metaphors ring very true on so many levels.
I think the device of a spinning Merkahbah and transitioning into a light being, I think these things already happened, they are encoded into this reality, like an overlay, like a hundred dollar bill you find sewn into the cuff of your pants. It’s always been there.
I don’t think oblivion, blinking off in this reality, I don’t think any of that is too far from the truth, but I think we are far more flexible creatures than we have given ourselves credit for. I think we CAN walk around in jeans, needing to blow our nose, having an itchy ass, remembering we forgot to pay the gas bill, and still hold Christ Consciousness.
Isn’t it WE who are defining this thing? Isn’t it we, powerfully creative and lighthearted and expansive beings, choosing this experience? Who says I have to go up a mountain and be transfigured and have to spend three days in a null zone, and then have a weird light body people can see through, and be some sort of stupid messiah for a whole bunch of other people.
Who says we have to do it that way?
Seems rather unwieldy, really.
How about this?
How about if I catch a glimpse of that galaxy of mine, in my minds eye, just as often as I focus my attention on it, and it reminds me of the true essence of reality, the vibrations of love, joy, excitement, happiness, contentment, satiety, contentment, unity, brotherhood, goodwill, charity, and how about, I just keep that in mind as I go about my business?
Can I get mad at you from that state? Well, I suppose, but what would the point be in that?
I see now that all of these things are really activities, so why not pick activities that are more enjoyable? That doesn’t mean that cleaning or even fixing something that is broken, that those activities are meaningless.
And if I am called to do something that I feel rebellion against, like doing a nursing shift or cleaning my house, well, isn’t that odd, this resistance. Because it comes from the all, and from that galaxy of light, so it can’t be a bad thing. I am assigning it as less than, and letting it wobble my equilibrium, because I am believing an untruth.
Every activity, every single one, is meaningful and essential because I have called it into my reality, and so it can be looked at as something far more wonderful than a burden, or a chore, or a curse. The activity, the event, the thing, it is neutral. It is all about what meaning, what significance, I place upon, in, through it.
I am not sure how this mindset will translate in my daily world. I can see now that watching a movie will be far more interesting. Have you noticed how lush and amazing movies are now? We recently watched the Harry Potter one with the serpent in the basement.
Holy crap. I sat there transfixed for nearly three hours, seeing all the levels, all the meanings, all the encoded messages, some of which I am unconvinced the author even consciously knew she was calling forth. Awesome.
Fight Club, another amazing work of art, and so lush, so thick with humor and good cheer, the nihilistic message so easily subverted to the transcendent.
With all things, don’t you find, it’s just a tilt of the head, an angle of the light, a shift in the sit-upon, and BOOM, it all can come flooding in.
I hope that you, my dear reader, are experiencing similar shifts, similar heights, because the view is spectacular from here. One day very soon we will be gathered as thick as thieves up here, oohing and ahhing and saying “I told you so” and “Oh! Remember that?!”
But for now, I am alone, in this little house, drinking coffee, breaking to watch my cat Minky lick her paws and her belly, and I am listening to the traffic, looking up at the mountains I can see from my recliner. I’m just someone, from this perspective, who may or may not be crazy.
I will leave you with something that started this whole mind-blowing morning, something Bashar said which made me laugh out loud.
Imagine that there is such a thing as an Oversoul. Not like your Higher Self Oversoul, but a real big Oversoul. Who split off and decided to have some fun, some experiences, to make it more amazing and almost disturbingly awesome.
OK. Imagine now that there are, represented in the 6.5 billion entities on this planet’s surface, imagine now that for all of these personalities, there are only, say, 300,000 Oversouls.
Kind of makes it hard to get mad at the check out girl, huh? Sort of makes it an impossibly silly thing to resent your boss.
Is it then not possible to assume that maybe what this whole ascension process is about is we big Oversouls finally looking up, ascending, and allowing our full identities to emerge, to just become conscious of the bigger picture, however possible that is in the physical? Is that possible?
If I could think it up and write it down, how could it not be?
Do you feel all better now? I know I do. I know this will take time to integrate, but I can feel there are miracles afoot. How can there not be? I will now consciously attune to the highest vibration I can imagine, in each moment, and from that place, my physical holographic projection of reality has already begun to open up in more enjoyable ways. How can it not?
How can it not, now.