I am both in and outside my body, watching, noticing what is happening in the moment, interpreting – which means choosing the story I intend to live. Physically, it is draining. Just being aware of the bombardment of energies/thought forms/emotions from outside requires energy to process, so I rest as much as I need to. I allow. I recognize that the ball of Light in my solar plexus is also churning in the intensity of this restructuring phase. My Self – the One that is birthing – does not want to be defined. It wants to be allowed to gestate and become without being named or judged. It wants to grow in this form of "in utero" without interference from my mind.
Of course it’s uncomfortable. There is a sense of loss as each old definition slips away. You are all of that and no longer any of that. Trust Me. Trust yourSelf. So, without the mindless following of old tracks, what do I do? The thing that calls me next. Often it is a piece of the past inviting me to see if it will nurture this moment. Time with the plant people, invoking food or beauty. Time spent creating images to see what my soul wants to share without the structure of words. Time reflecting – thinking, sensing, connecting with inner and outer aspects of realities seen and unseen. Time spent deliberately being "unproductive" in matrix lingo in order to embrace the wealth and productivity that come with Being mindfully present to Self and surroundings.
Sometimes it feels heavy, like I’m pushing through a fog of delusion, a wall of noise that screeches and screams. "Oh, no, you can’t… Don’t even think about it, you puny piece of shit. Who do you think you are? You can’t… You’re not worthy…" All those negative thought forms and dense energy try to invade my space like a bunch of maggots devouring a carcass. I know not to listen, even though the versions implanted in me vibrate in response. When I need to crumple in grief at the familiarity of the abuse, I do. I grieve. This was never Creator’s design. Something inside me knows how distorted and deliberately destructive these lies are, how insidious the campaign to destroy the beauty of Creation. That part rebels, fights back, grows increasingly angry and reaches for the original design. Beauty. Compassion. Generosity. Acceptance.
No, you lying Darkness that would keep me small and contracted. The joke is on you. These places where I feel small and unworthy are the places where I look and really see the thoughts and the stories they generate. I have outgrown that pattern. This is where I claim the Truth and write a different story, one that acknowledges Source and Source within me. Each time I forgive the lie I always believed, see where it came from and what it was trying to do, I can let it go, knowing to find and embrace the Truth that is its opposite. The Reality that I and we are co-creating.
I feel lighter. This plowing through the quicksand of deliberate delusions may still be tiring, but the energy of the New is reaching for me with as much yearning as I am reaching for It. It is bursting into bloom all around me. Hmmm. Maybe I’ve been using the wrong metaphor. Is what I’m experiencing similar to what a seed experiences as it bursts from its shell and sends new tendrils of life through the soil toward the surface, where the full light of the Sun beckons me to its warmth? Hmmm. What do I want to be today? Do I have to choose? Can I be a sweet potato plant growing lovely leaves on the surface to bring from the Sun the energy to produce delicious, nutritious roots below the surface? Can I also be a lily that turns its face to the Light and sends the sweetness of its aroma wafting on the breeze?
Excuse me, but I need to go now. I have to see what kind of garden I’m going to be today.
