I’m going to tell you the second part of the story first. Life is, after all, non-linear. If you read the poem I posted a bit earlier, you’ll recall my night was not so easy. I know many of you are aware there is a bit of an energetic fight going on and as Lee Harris commented once (I’m paraphrasing,) ‘even if you’re not fighting, you are a warrior because those who are fighting are not wanting the upliftment your love and your light are bringing.’
has written a lovely piece about how Spring and the winning of that which is of love and light and life is inevitably on the cusp of arriving - and the beast is just really having mortality issues flaring up. We’ve all been there.
Originally, all is Love-Light and Love-Black No-Thing. Either way, that even includes Beast, who is dying.
Undoing duality speeds of the dissolution of the old. It begins with us, within our own selves, and includes the aspects you and I are afraid to let go of but that are also dying because it is their time, whether we feel them as rejected parts or aspects implanted or superimposed that actually come from BEAST, or simply positive traits and aspects that have served their time but are done, like an incarnation within an incarnation. If you need to have a funeral, have a funeral. Souls often attend their own, so we not do it while in your current body so you can feel complete and move on to your next lifetime without leaving your body?
Okay, for the second part of the story (The first will come later)
I put on my boots and hurriedly my coat, without zipping it to escape from the sound of the neighbor’s dogs. The ones who have, over years and years helped create a situation where I now have extreme sensory issues, including, but not limited to the sounds of their dogs barking at a pitch that should be considered a sonic weapon to sensitive people like me. I bless them and wish well for them everyday, repeatedly, and think of the story of the Buddhist monk who asked that his cook - who was known to be difficult to have around, accompany him when he sojourned to another land, specifically to cultivate patience. I do remember, this time, to grab my warm gloves.
I cover my ears and run until I the dogs stop long enough for me to zip my coat and put some distance between us. Then I choose a song called My Body Is a Temple. I am doing a little hop skip, toe to the concrete dance when I hear a voice call, “Nice moves.” I turn around and a whole face of a middle ages woman is smiling at me across the way. “Are you practicing dancing?” She asks.
I look at her and tune in for just a moment. “I love to dance and I love to spread joy,” I reply, feeling a connection, an invisible quantum beam of understanding and high quality radiance - a clear and instantaneous oneness, that also appreciates distinction.
“Well I loved seeing you dance. I feel very joyful. Thank you!” The woman beamed to me as she said it, her robust joy echoing across the street as we stand on different ends of the sidewalk “secret”passage that leads to the nearby school, that inspired the poem below:
Why do you hide your soul gifts
Tucked away in back
Are you afraid that if you show your petals
Even your thorns won’t protect you from attack?
Yet on the secret passage
It’s mostly children
On their way to school
Walking with moms or dads or nannies
Sometimes its grannies
Or humans walking along side a canine
Who could benefit from being informed by your beautiful soul
Opening petal by petal
That they are equally divine
And that they have the metal
To be soft as a rose
Instead of hardened at the nose
Some walk here
Whose parents work in every influential sphere
Maybe they need your light and love
To help them uplift in a new gear
Based on becoming a love-light
See-er
And those who need your light
Those who need your inspiration
Your beauty
Wisdom
Your very presence
Essence
That simply to gaze at
Sets things aright
So, dearest rose
I am your secret admirer
But I challenge you
To be a secret no more
To let the world see you and adore
But what they will find is an open door
To what is the Inner Sanctum of their own Source
Within the heart
The center
The womb of Creation
To birth heaven on earth
One inhale
Another exhale
Of its fragrance at a time
Allowing the waft of God-light
Solar floral delight
To inform the world around you
It can move beyond the fight
And into warm heart-womb love
To be gestated into heavenly-new
Forms
More True
Authentic
Letting the sacred accrue
Within your petal’s embrace
Nurtured and loved
Until it births and take flight
On the pollen of a bee
Who carries honey and light
To be continued…
Upon seeing the joy in the woman’s face I invited her to join me anytime. She said, “But I’m not as graceful as you are.”
I said, “Dancing isn’t about how graceful you are - it’s about embodying your joy!”
And with that, she began to dance, then turned and turned to walk back up the secret passage
Just after I had walked half-way home from the coffee shop
Then gone indoors long enough to pet my dog, scratch her neck, grab my coat, hat and gloves and head out.
At the coffee shop, before all that…
I let my husband go in first, waiting a few moments before I felt the energetic “okay to go.” Me and going out has been iffy for quite a while. It’s not that I’m shy, it’s that when I have the feeling like I can’t go in a place, I literally can’t go in a place. And many places are tricky for me navigate as an energetic sensitive. I had a huge aha after reading not long ago about the underground tunnels associated with our university that span quite a few miles throughout the city. It suddenly dawned on me why certain streets are often challenging or impossible for me to travel on or that require hubby and I to engage in major clearing work before I can. I don’t need to say more than that, because if you get it, you know, and if not, that’s okay. You will soon. Maybe by midway through the year.
Once I’m through the doors of the coffee shop I look around and see a friendly face of a young fellow behind the counter, but my love is no where in sight. A moment later, I see his handsome face emerge from the bathroom, having just finished washing one of our newly purchased reusable glass mugs. FYI - we don’t have to wait for bans on things like straws to make it normal and expected to use stuff that doesn’t pollute our sacred Earth Mother.
After greeting my love with a hug, I see a woman from years ago when I used to frequent this coffee shop regularly as one of my second homes, prepandemic. We say hello to each other and she shares how the young man is her son and his girlfriend also works here now, but she’s filling in while the girlfriend is at a dance thing. The woman says these days hardly ever comes in to work; therefore it is such a joy to see everyone, this place having been a home for her that felt like family for so long when she worked regularly at the coffee shop.
I tell her that I felt the same way…and then words flew out like nobody’s business, not even mine - seriously I wasn’t planning at all…the truth bombs flew, lighting off in the coffee shop like exploding chocolate with chili sauce:
Yep, it was the same for me…before y’all mandated masks. New forms of tyranny are coming. I hope this time it’s more than just weirdos like me that say no to it.
Inspired fire poured forth from me like black coffee, undiluted, out my mouth, hot and unfiltered, bold with medicinal tannins, no more shenanigans as I elucidated in brief my sense of the world and the power of sovereignty held in love. I was more surprised than she was, as she was clearly feeling what I was saying. Yet I had no intention of marching in with full light warrior gear on - in fact I had started the trip to the shop hesitant to even go in, much less preach a loud sermon for all within earshot to hear, God help anyone with their hearing aids turned up too loud.
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