Here is a story of facing your fear and letting go. The ending isn’t completely written yet, maybe you can help.
This is written by my son, and, although he’s at the other end of the planet right now, it sounds like he’s working on the same things mentioned the other day (Note to Self). Enjoy.
(Link to original article: The curious catalyst.)
Thursday, September 12, 2013
i done fucked up
this post may sound a bit rough - that's how i feel at the moment. i'm sitting with the resonances of a pretty massive learning, and it's still digesting. i want to put my ignorance on full display, because it's a lesson that's worth sharing.
for anyone out there who's read my past writings, i should have said these things before:
1. thank you
2. know that my tendency is to think that i've got it figured out, and then cling to that idea, right up until life smacks me across the face with my own misunderstanding. so bear that in mind whenever you read anything of mine
here's the latest 'smacked-across-the-face' story.
This story continues here.
Much love, ~Sophia
Click on the picture for the Audio Version of today's post.
It’s like watching an image, once pixelated, come together. There is evidence in the everyday.
When the channellers emerged en masse two years ago, the message was clear. Inhaling the enlightened fumes, arrogance emerged. We were played brilliantly. Misfits all of our lives, it was like giving us crack – we ate it up. We were the Chosen Ones, the Special Ones, the Enlightened Ones, here to finally claim our untold worth. Long life, prosperity, joy and beauty – this is where we belong.
The separation which had been only slightly obvious to us, clarified. It was us who had the answers. It was our job to enlighten those who didn’t know. They were the many, we were the few.
As Oneness creeps quietly in, what surprises is what it looks like in the everyday. It looks like friendships renewed with those previously neglected because they didn’t “get it”. Everyone’s included. It looks like saying yes. Everything has merit now, the “no’s” come too, and with them the understanding that “no” is not rejection. It is a matter of preference.
I choose what serves me and that benefits the whole. I do what I like. You do the same. It’s all good.
There is an acceptance. Ways to be, dress, eat, dance, sing, love and play are not good or bad – they are choices. Love trumps everything. Relationships take effort. It’s about intent. It’s about choice.
There’s an addiction to something we’ll have to face. We are looking to fly. This addiction holds us to the ground. It’s about control. It’s about trust. It’s about letting someone in, leaving the door open. Wide open.
The specifics for each of us differ, beneath them we are One. What holds us back is fear.
You see, we are the Chosen Ones, the Special Ones, the Enlightened Ones, here to finally claim our untold worth. Every single One of us.
There is nothing you need now – you are perfection; ready to fly. The only thing left to do is believe. With every thought, know that you are Gods. When you wake up in the morning, look in the mirror, walk out the door – believe. Believe in your power. Know who you are. Stop hiding. You are God.
As things come up, and the pixelation returns, look right at it. Stand your ground. This thing, this thing bringing up the illusion, is not bigger, better, more beautiful, stronger, smarter or richer than you. It is you. It’s all you. Just love it and absorb it into the life force that you are.
We are the best and the worst of us, the oldest and the youngest, the cruelest and the most sainted, the horrific and the breathtaking. We are One, here to join together. We’ll have to come out of our cage to do so, step off our cliff, let someone in, give something up, release the wheel.
Our power is in Unity. We have trusted and been lied to and hold onto that fact as a shield. We crafted, told and believed that lie, hence its brilliance. Put down your shield. It was you who lied, you who believed and you who know the truth. Remember. It is time. We did this on purpose. The bravest, strongest, softest, gentlest, most intense and stimulating beings are us.
We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.
How perfect that on this day when I struggled to come out of my introspection to speak, our Aussie angel voices these feelings... enjoy.
The Balance of Beachdwelling and Wavelistening
Soft crashes of symbols etch meaning into the papyrus paper of our heartscrolls.
Sign language. Choreography.
Is it worth being aware of what's below the surface and meditating on the sound of the surf,
We're beachdwellers, and god's water washes our shores
in an omnipresent backdrop of sound,
sibilantly hissing in the language of the soul.
Similar to a sunrise
or the sudden emptiness of a lifeless body,
it doesn't mean something in any of the ways we might think it does.
Our lives are played out amidst this perpetual aural presence of truth,
a truth well beyond the most limber contortions of the most flexible minds.
It's a choosable thing, to what degree
we consciously contemplate incomprehensible compositions.
We can go about our lives without considering these vibrations,
trusting that whatever song the waves are singing
will carry us across the water when it's our time to go
or we can turn our attention towards these undecipherable divine orchestrations now,
amidst our busy beachdwelling lives.
Those who choose to tune in need to learn how to listen,
most especially the many children who have come of age in cookiecutter classrooms,
disconnected from the wisdom of our ancestors.
Our foremothers knew how to not make sense of our womblike soundscape
but many of today's curriculums were designed by people with gargantuan, cube-shaped minds,
so most modern schools insist of making straight lines and sense out of everything.
Yesterday's people knew well what it's up to us to remember:
if you try to listen to love that way,
it will drive you mad.
Beyond archetypes, riddles, enigmas, and even poetry,
the voice of the blood spiraling through the veins of our universal body
speaks to us in no language.
A recollection of forgotten wisdom
will allow today's listeners to lean towards the waves once again.
Ancestral instincts will save our sanity
if we would strive to balance the roles of beachdweller and wavelistener,
if we would seek to hear the sirensong of those soft symbol crashes
without being swept away from those we love,
if we desire to simultaneously reside in that space beyond mind
yet still go to work and have a chat around the water-cooler.
Were our ancestors still around,
an unbroken chain of tutelage would allow us to tap in and walk the delicate tightrope
but the tradition of sitting at the feet our our elders has,
for so many families,
Fortunately, the original source of inspiration still exists untarnished.
Our task today is perhaps less simple than it was for those in ages past,
for while the whispers instructing us on how to listen to the sound of the surf
(whispers which (thankfully) are themselves intelligible)
have never stopped murmuring out their hushed instructions
the sounds of our communal life on the beach have gotten louder and louder,
practically drowning the whispers out.
We still find ourselves surrounded by the sound of the surf,
for that is the soundscape in which we exist
and no amount of manmade noise, no matter how loud,
could ever overpower creation itself.
But with the loss of the voice of our ancestors
the whispers guiding us on how to listen
have become barely discernible,
so that many who might be inclined to become the wavelisteners of today
have no idea how to begin
and end up struggling to tune out
those wavesounds which seem to make no sense.
So: a less simple task, given the escalating crescendo of our busy beachdwelling lives,
which means the well-earned reward
of rediscovering the whispers
which will teach us how to listen
will taste that much sweeter.
The original stream of inspiration from which our ancestors
drew cupfulls of wisdom and drank,
the calm stream whose source is the great
wavesinging surfsounding unintelligible ocean of god itself,
the peaceful stream whose clean waters were taken in by the bodies
of those who gave birth to those who gave birth to those who gave birth to us,
the stream which has given rise to the wisdom
which has guided generation after generation
as they learned to walk in two worlds,
the stream which has the power to teach humanity
how to be both beachdwellers and wavelisteners...
this stream still flows in the same place it always has.
I trust the other because I trust myself.
Because I trust myself, I trust the other.
Distrusting the other,
I question my own decision to be
where I am,
sharing relational space,
thus distrusting myself.
The other represents an experience I chose,
a relationship I created,
and in doubting the integrity of my creation
I cannot help but doubt the integrity
of myself as the creator.
I trust I knew what I was doing
in the act of creating any given relationship.
I choose not to doubt it, holding an understanding
that choosing to embark on a creative journey
means choosing to be surprised,
and that choosing to enter into
the creative relational process with another
is the antithesis of drawing up a contract and codifying the specifics:
true creation inevitably moves into the unknown.
Were I only to have relationships within the sphere
of what I already know and understand
there would be no newness, no discovery,
no great learning.
It is by trusting the creative impulse
that moves me to enter
into unknown relational spaces
that I am able to stay calm
when the relationship travels
beyond my comfort zone.
By choosing to trust the people in my life,
(most especially when the territory of that relationship
becomes unfamiliar and the more fearful bits of me
begin to mutiny)
I choose to trust myself.
Link to blog: Ascending Spirals of Understanding :
We rest in varying levels of doubt as this pivotal year ends. I introduce this blog, Ascending Spirals of Understanding, from our Aussie Angel who starts right off dealing with our ultimate dilemma, who can we trust. It is us.
We are the ones we've been waiting for.