Here I am washed up on the shore, tattered and torn, but alive. How do
you explain an illness that changes your life, how do you explain that no
medical Doctors could not pin point my decline? This is the death that happens
when you dare step into Being, it will come. It will come in a form that you
will not expect.
I am moving into the acceptance that something in me will no longer be
present. I am coming to accept that I am quieter than ever before, that I know
stillness, really know it. There were
nights when I lay in my bed after each download of other lives being cleared,
shaking with the scenes seen… that I thought, perhaps this is my current
ending, perhaps it’s time to go. The only fear I had was “I will not see my
dear daughters move into their spaces of making the vast differences that I
know they are and will do”. My Furmily were my comfort and kept me moving,
taking them for a walk, one slow step after the other every morning before I
collapsed onto my couch to just sit. Involuntary meditation!
In a dream state, in this other altered space that I was in, I saw how
clearly I am Mother Earth and she is me. Our lives inexorably linked, that my toxins
are hers, my healing hers. That Her Soul is My Soul and that ascension is not
just a YouMan process but that every Bee, Stone Person, Standing Person, Plant Person,
all sentient in their own manner is Ascending.
When confronted with the vulnerability of your mortal self, you begin to
live differently, and you know that you are not the same being that entered the
storm. People will look at you and think that you have returned to health, but
a limb is missing. I am not sure what has grown in place instead…
What have known is this:
I saw the ribbons of me
Blowing in the wind
Strings of me being undone
I felt my self unravel
All of me coming apart
The bright colours streaming
Sunset catching the chakra
Colours of me,
I saw myself
Vanishing
The strings of me lifting high
And by some mystery
Floated into heavens loom
To be woven
Into something else
But perfectly me
Every thread made into another pattern
Colours brighter
And instead of ascending
The descent into the ground
The roots of my Mother
I saw with clear new senses
That IT
Is ALL here already…
