He who cannot help himself cannot help others.Hazrat Inayat Khan
Self doubt arises again. Pulling one into a vacuum where you just go deeper and deeper into the absurdity of mind.
For a while I found a bay of safety and understanding to park my boat.
When I first happened upon the invitation – the first time in my life where an offer was extended to me to rest in safe waters. And it was absolutely sincere and of full value. So grateful was I for the offer that even if the harbour had turned out to be tumultuous it would not have detracted from the mere fact t that it was such a long awaited invitation.
I really could use that. Still. Safe. Protected.
And in many, many ways I am. Probably I am sure that at least 6.9 billion people would envy my life.
There is no war near me. A friend was attacked in his home last year in McGregor and nearly died, but that was shocking in its rarity. The weather, well while you beings in the northern hemisphere were being whacked left, right and centre, our days here were blissful. A gentle summer with some gifts of unexpected rain. the usual extreme high temps but absolutely life threatening climate.
There is food to eat, and Tao is visiting so we are eating well. So why the self doubt. What is it that makes me feel I am out of the bay, my ship is tumbling aimlessly in a huge ocean of futility.
Pieter and I needed to cross a mountain to return home. We were sitting on a large picnic blanket with two friends - financially successful friends who party and wine and dine. We are the very poor relatives. They ask if we have gas to get home. They know us well. Pieter smiles and says yes and I think yeah, thank you Life. They leave. On the blanket is a gas container. In the dram I don’t ask Pieter how that gas can make a car run. Instead I smile beamingly and say yes, we have petrol. He looks at me and his face saddens and tells me no we don’t. But he was not going to say no because he did not want to be given. I need to find some shoes to cross the mountain. We walk to a house just off the road. In the dark the light from the windows is orange, warm inviting. We step into the home and it is just simplicity but also of such beauty. There is an aura of abundance and grace. The meal is being prepared. My heart yearns for this ease. It is all relative. Someone is yearning for what I have. We set off into the night to go over the mountain and only tool we have is a head torch. Pretty rich symbology.
I awaken at 4.33 - the owls are silent. Normally I would get up out of the tent, pull a sleeping bag over me and head to the chair. And normally at this time the black hen and her five teens are as dark as the sky and yet somehow they stand out. Normally I watch them because they move out of the lavender bush which had become their nest onto the lawn and stand together tightly but all with their heads bowed. They stand very still in this position And those of you who know their fowl know they rarely stand still. After many minutes the rooster crows. And after a few rounds they move out of their sacred circle and into the slowly awakening day. Normally I witness this with absolute no diminishment of awe and wonder. The most potent time of day. The awakening to a new day.
But today I say no to any possible abidance in the magic that lies before me.
I am feeling uncomfortable but when I try to feel the feeling it becomes clear I can’t feel the feeling I can only think what I am feeling. In that moment.
A thought arises listing the possible productive steps and actions I could follow that day. I could help with the cobbling of the path, I could do some watering, I could have taken up any meditation of action. Made a cup of tea. Absolutely anything.
I have come to understand of late how vital gratitude is.. To trust that everything that unfolds is by divine decree and perfect. And a lot of the time it flows in gushes and yet there are many things that I am unable to accept let alone be grateful for - . I can’t give thanks for the fact that the planet is facing imminent extinction, or the injustices against us people manifested every day through the usury financial system. . Or the felling of a nearby forest which left the river bed completely stripped of its century old sentinels. The wild life all gone in a few days. The wood chips exported to the USA and the wood to England. Two guys got the contract and made millions. Why was that allowed? Why were the people not allowed to benefit ? So there is much I am really unable to be grateful for and that is where this vacuumed feeling arises from.
As a kid my superpower was that I could stop people from harming other people or animals just with the power of my mind. As I grew older I would take on greater and greater challenges. My mind would take me to places where children were forced into prostitution and I would be able to not only free them but paralyse those who were responsible for their slavery. I would every night go around the world putting things right.
And then I suddenly morphed into middle age and found myself having faced a little bit too much reality to believe in super powers anymore. All I could see was the suppression, the subjugation the power against the powerlessness. The script become so tardily written that we all immediately call out the lies, and yet they continue to feed them to us. Continue to beat the drums of a complete destruction of the higher human qualities. The Zionists have effectively reduced our examples from beings such as the Prophets and their followers to caricatures with no redeeming qualities. The celebrities have taken the place of the mystics and the learned one’s. When the people we are taught to respect are people Steven Jobs then I say Why - he ran a good business, paid the factory workers in China badly, made a lot of money - why do we call him a visionary? Why are we not shown those beings who speak to each other in a way that takes ones breath away. At the re-memberance and at the quality. Why are we not shown examples of beings who do make a difference. Who do put things right. Imagine if we were shown examples of the highest communication possible.
How can we raise ourselves up if that which we are being shown is in the filth?
I decide I am going to walk until there is a shift. If it takes all day I will walk around and around my village with India. I will huff and puff and find a way through. A street sweeping crew is just ahead.
Some dust arises from their actions and a piece of paper is airborne. It flies up determinedly until its heaviness brings it back to earth. Right by my feet. I pick it up and in blue writing there are the words
Expect a miracle. I hand it over to the one sweet sweeper. She smiles and pockets it.
I have received that message before. When the boys were very young and we had gone on a birthday outing and when it came time to go home the car would not start. Young babes, supper time and that heart wrenching moment you all know as parents when you have to start improvising big time. The car next to us had a bumper sticker extorting us to expect a miracle.
I go to the village retreat. The gardens are always beautiful. Sprnklers spraying, sun shining, water sparkling, breeze breathing. A most perfect day – I walk towards the library. A pea hen is at the door with her 6 babes. I look at all these books and again that numbness presented itself. My eye was drawn to a book of no discerneble colour, shape or size. Out of the hundreds in front of me my hands reached out for a book entitled “The Power of Miracles” and the numbness vanished.
I want to return to the belief that I could perform miracles - that it is our birthright to be miracle workers. I want to heal the world around me. I want to offer safety to all the innocents: plants, animals, minerals, humans. I don’t want to suddenly enter the workplace and be successful, no I came with a super power and it is my intention to awaken that.
On the 14th of April some Brazilians of love and integrity will be landing on our shores again.
On the 13th there will be a Santo Daime ceremony and two days later a on the 13th there will be a Santo Daime ceremony and two days later a four tobacco gathering. The morning afterwards a few of us climb solo into the mountain where we remain alone for 4 days and 4 nights with no food or water.
We are allowed one pure wool blanket and a tarpaulin and warm clothing.. One needs 365 pouches with tobacco in them and some bigger prayer flags to place around one. Some conscious preparation. At the base camp there is prayer and support for those visioging. One ends the vision quest with another 4 tobacco happening. Tao will also be questing. He has paid for his by living on the mountain for some months doing work to pay for it.
Now for the me the 4 tobacco’s are always appealing. The ritual, the fire keeping , the presence, the message from spirit - the presence of the people destined to be in the circle, all much desired. The being in the mountain at zero degrees, maybe wet, certainly uncomfortable. Sleep kept to a minimum. There is nothing about this that appeals to me.
I can do discomfort - I really can - but 96 hours is like a really long flight without the comfort of a cabin. And yet I know that this is what is needed for my super power to re emerge.
To untangle the lie of powerless I have been sold.
To untangle the lie of lack of innocence that I have come to believe.
The lie of unworthiness which has become my second skin.
This space time event where eventually the ego cannot exist as the body is just switches to survival mode. To spend four days, undisturbed in the Presence of the Divine Being.
So here is where you come in, those of you whom I call my friends and those new to this page.
I have put a donate button here so that there can be a financial miracle which will allow me to actually embark on the Question of Vision. This re-emergence of my powers as being a force of good.
Because to end as we began with a quote from one of these beings I spoke of as being of such respect and sincerity Hazrat Khan - ‘ The moment a prisoner feels that he will no longer remain in the prison, the prison bars must break instantly, of themselves’.