Friday, May 25, 2012

Unless you know everything, you don't know anything

In the one paradigm you would find me still searching online for something to satisfy the itch.
Earthquake watch,  nwo antics,  the extent of the masonic plaque in every area of governance,  the vatican and its increasing communion of shame and abuse.  Libya is another torn asunder country by bankers, pharma and merchants of war.  Fukishima is without doubt  a world extinction event,  the US is considering making it so that Israelis don't need visas to visit the foetid shores.  

Here on my coast line the price of fuel has shot up in such a way that the very act of feeding ourselves becomes  seemingly untenable.  Somehow the household has grown in size, with two woman and a child needing shelter.  So now there are 10.  And yet day by day food is eaten, water drunk, fires made, songs are sung and despite the pot being brought to the boil analogy, there is a feeling of optimism.

Still hoping for a direct asteroid hit.   No new economic paradigm is ever going to redress the mess we find ourselves in.   There is a toad man who made his money through formula one racing.  Ecclestone is his name.  His daughter aged 22 recently got married  and the cost of the wedding was twelve million pounds.  Translated into Rands that would be (just let me get the calculator ) R144 million.   With that you could have 100 towns the size of this one living comfortably for 20 years.  Simply but comfortably.   It is spent in one day.  Like that.  Found it so difficult to swallow and yet when her sister, who is even younger announces her wedding will cost more I just want to leg it over to London pick them up and drop them in the Kalahari desert.
I want them to fee the vultures and the ants and the flies.  I want them to stop breeding.  Unfortunately that is not going to happen so I still await the impact of redemption.

A few years ago I might have had some plans on survival strategy,  storing foods and water and such.  Now such notions are laughed at.   What I am awaiting is a break from the prison cell that life has become.  Where governments demand the money I make to prop up their own consumerism and corruption.  For the huge financial vacuum cleaner to be switched off once and for all.  I don't want a more comfortable, fair or just prison cell, I just want to be out of the prison completely and for that to happen is going to take something unimaginable.

Still sleeping in the tent despite it being winter.  Every night after cooking i leave the crackling fire and head out to the womb.  Out there I hear the owls.  feel the clouds,  am humbled by the wind and the power it evokes.  It is out there away from books, music and entertainment that some possibilities have presented themselves to me.   There is no more fear of doom and crisis.  There is a faith, a faith that what cometh is a god send.  A blessing that makes our time here at this moment significant beyond measure.

I don't know what god is but I know what she is not.  We are walking into a new way of  seeing afresh and anew the truth of what we are.  Not limited in any way, pure divine being expressing itself ever new and ever fresh.

So many areas of my life have ended.   It is not what happens to you but how you respond to the happening that makes a difference.     The simple daily events that transpire that one could so easily overlook,  are seen and gratified.  The simple provision is enjoyed and noted and not even expected ever again.  I have never had so little materially and yet i have never been happier, more peaceful, more content.

The beliefs I held about what I needed to be happy all got burnt up and what was left was the simple faith that everything,  absolutely everything is perfect as it is.  Even my inability to accept the perfection of everything in the unfolding.

This blog feels a bit like a monologue right now so if you happen to have visited this page, please be so kind as to leave a reflection.  It would be much appreciated.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The plants continue their healing .....

We find ourselves on a Saturday morning.  A tempestuous Saturn’s day.    A wind seemingly unable to find a rhythm.   Shapeless, lightless clouds.   I was giving safe harbor to the feeling of un-ease.    I had not knowingly allowed or created its entry but somehow  had allowed it to drop anchor.  
Two weeks prior a different unfolding was taking place, with differing attendants.   The little me, feeling neglected decides to come roaring back to life.   So a story is created and in that tale I am unlovable and unloved. 
The thoughts of being unlovable become the feeling of being unlovable which in turn becomes the reality of being unlovable.   Awareness is watching this and seeing the unfolding as the pain body grows so large that it seems I have forgotten who I am.  I have forgotten that I am that which spins the planets.  I have become identified with this persona of limitation and beliefs.  And that is akin to being locked in a cell with a mug of undrinkable water.  I asked Great Spirit to remind me who I am and an hour later there was a notice of a Healing ceremony at the Santo Daime gathering in two weeks time.  Just on the other side of the mountain.
And as the past always becomes the present.  And those two weeks are up and it is time to head off to the ceremony.   The weather has unhinged me and leaving involves leaving a household of both ill and slightly wild beings behind.   It seemed like an easier option to batten down the hatches and keep the hearth on fire.    I told Iona we might not go and she was mortified.  This was to be her first ceremony.  She would have a tiny dose and then sit and sing with us and when tired would sleep on prepared mattresses amidst the gathering.     So she pulls a card and it is the green woman.
So it is decided.   One does not have the Green Woman in front of you and decide to not go and meet her in a sacred space.   So the shift happens and we find ourselves gathering for the needs of the ceremony and after.  Now there is purpose and with that the unease straightens out into joyful anticipation, completely devoid of expectation.
By the time we climb into the ancient old vehicle, the wind has died down and we find ourselves in the midst of the most beautiful day.  It also transpires that it was the last journey that my trusted steed led me on.  Her heart stopped on the way home.   But before then, before we knew her death  was imminent we found ourselves, Tao, Iona and myself on the dirt roads, stretching out away from the main roads.  Dirt, large black beetles scurrying across the roads - no other traffic.   The clouds had thinned out sufficiently to provide a sky movie.  A dead owl, two ravens, a blueness of cranes.  Vineyards giving way grasslands which in turn surrender to luminous green fields.  Putting along through heaven.
 Arriving early in the day we choose a tepee and spent a long time swinging.  Tao doing the wild, from the top of the tree swings and me on the granny one.   Close to the ground and snug.    Lying in the long grass, this sacred space.    And slowly the tribe starts arriving, fires are lit, chairs set out, altar prepared.  There are 22 being present.  All with a willingness to recover and to renew.   To stand afresh in the world.  And each being that my eyes rested upon evoked within me the deepest respect and love.  Not in any clich├ęd way but by the way these attributes can visibly be felt at the heart level.
Being able to read the hymns added a new dimension and Tao suggested that the hymns are the way to the inner spaces.  The guides to the depths of one Self.   The sacred, hallowed space of the Santo Daime.

The night after the ceremony,  Iona and I went through a particularly powerful bonding experience.  We left the ceremonial grounds earlier than Pieter and Tao.   Flying along the dirt road full of joy and laughter the engine loses power.  Again I am on the back roads and again I have not got my phone with me.  But it is early on in the day and we entertain ourselves for several hours effortlessly.   There is no one else I would rather be stuck with than Iona,  The joy of a 10 year old with out any of the usual demands.   We have no food and no water.  But we don't have so it is not an issue that we even talk about.  I am crocheting with the occassional sunlight flashing upon us.  Occasionally we get out and throw stones or find treasures or do some stretches.

Pieter and Tao (father and son)  who also did the ceremony happened upon a long walk which meant they were several hours behind us.  So whilst 3 cars went past on this deserted road, I did not flag them down as I was awaiting Pieter.  And then no more cars came past.  Not one.  By now a slight anxiety arose as to what happened to them.   So Iona and I started sending them blessings and surrounding them in light and waited.  Next thing it is dark.  We are truly alone.  A wind has picked up.  My precous daughter for the first time in seven hours sobs gently and says she wants to come home.  I hold her and stroke her back and sing her lullaby.  I reassure her, and we sit surrendered in our stuckness.  I tell her that there will be times in life when we need to be brave and that we need to see right now how we are not at any risk right now.  Maybe discomfort but not risk.  The risk is the stories our minds are telling us.  We prepare to bunk down for the night.  I am thinking of how the morning I will make my way home to find what had happened to the rest of my family.  All I can do is breathe consciously.  Breathe in, breathe out.  Jupiter breaks through the clouds and in that pulsation of light my heart soars and I feel that moment when faith and trust is restored.  My message in the ceremony had been Trust.   

Two hours later they come along the road,  nearly 10 at night.  Despite having gone on a long walk they had had a blow out.   By the time they had had the blowout, Iona and I had been sending them love and protection for several hours.  Post ceremonial experiencing, with its profound reach.  The ongoing deprogramming, undoing, recovering, healing.

This morning, back home, awakening in my tent to find a praying mantis on the outer layers of fabric.  Its silhouette a pose of grace as it cleans itself in the prayer position.   And upon opening the rain flap, an enormous rain spider carrying her blessings meets me eye to eye, a breath apart. 
There is always an unbounded energy following a ceremony.  There is always the most profound gratitude for all the blessings.   There is always a continuation of the insights.  And this always is ever fresh, ever new. 
The clock strikes 12.  It is the first of May.  The autumn sun shines gently upon my face and my feet.    The sparrows are feasting on the treasures of the newly moistened earth.   
The trees are shedding their garments, the pecans  plopping down to the ground. 
Guinea pigs eeking, chickens chickening, 
Children discovering,  

And in the midst of this ordinary life is the most potent excitement.
A profound gratitude for being in a body at this moment in time.
Even the most dismal atrocity of the elite is met with a smile.
This is the time of awakening.                                                                                                                                                                      
From untruth to truth
From asleep to awake
With love
As love
In love.
Praises to this most sacred medicine.