“I am not separate from you. We are one.”
I was seeking a way to discreate despair and I rediscovered one-ness.
I don’t think I ever experienced despair before Jason died. I understand now how so many people who have lost dear ones, especially children, have felt their lives were ruined. So many immediately assumed that I would be devastated. I am so eternally grateful that these moments of despair are short-lived, existing long enough to remind me where I really want to be and who I really am.
I was driving to R.I. yesterday, missing Jason. We always drove down to see family together, listening to music and enjoying each others’ presence. I was seeking Jason everywhere, in the trees, in the music, in the clouds. I was suddenly reminded that I was hanging on to the idea that his presence has to be palpable, almost physical. My mind was seeking so hard and focusing on the notion that I couldn’t find him that I couldn’t feel him. That moment of despair reminded me that I was looking outside myself, that he is in me, that he is me, and that we are not separate. We are one. I could feel Jason strongly with that statement – We are One.
I know about oneness; I’ve experienced it incredibly so many times and studied it in my spiritual and metaphysical work. Why do I forget? So I can be reminded.
We are all One.
We don’t need to seek outside ourselves for anything; it’s all here.
The world is a reflection of me.
That’s a phrase from the Avatar work Kule and I have been doing the past year. It’s so true. Discreation is another Avatar term. We discreate that which we created (consciously or unconsciously, usually the latter) at a time when it served us in some way; it now no longer serves us. I was creating despair and I knew I had tools to discreate it; I have been working on it. However, since despair is a total loss, it was important for me to create what I wanted so that no loss was felt. I recreated oneness; it just happened.
Wow! Throughout all these messages I have been experiencing Jason as separate from me, and at the same time felt his energy merged with mine. I caught glimpses of the oneness but my mind kept coming back to Jason being a separate entity, constantly reminded that that entity was no longer with me in ways that had been comforting to me. I needed to reach another level of surrender of my mind.
I have been asking for help with surrender.
Two days ago I was in the White Mountains with my dear friend Marieanne (formerly Linda) of Texas. It’s been a favorite place of mind and hers and Jason’s for many years, a place where we connect with the spirit of the earth, the guides, and ourselves in magical ways. Marieanne and I had hiked and camped there many times before we had babies. Jason’s ashes are there in our swimhole, Jason’s swimhole; this time we visited other parts of the White Mountains. I will visit Jason’s ashes next summer in a new energy when it is warm enough to enjoy the swimming. It was a perfect day with autumn sun and colors; we enjoyed our time together with no agenda, stopping where we were guided. In one of our favorite spots, the Basin, I was getting lost watching the water flowing through the sculpted rocks. I asked for help with surrender.
I watched the scarlet-yellow painted leaf that I threw into the stream move into a deep hole. It got caught up in eddies and swirled slowly to the bottom and the color faded to emptiness. I trusted I would see it again, and I waited patiently to see it churn upward in the cross-currents to resurface with its sunny colors. The eddies took it down again, reminding me of my emotional roller coaster. I prayed for surrender, trusting completely that this beautiful spirit would resurface with every submerge, in its own time, and be carried with the flow. With that energy of surrender held, I witnessed the sudden catapulting to the surface and with one quick smooth stroke the leaf glided glisteningly across the rocky ledge over a waterfall, where it continued its dance in the joy of being.
I felt the gliding of surrender; it felt so natural and good. I held that feeling as I asked for continued surrender.
Surrendering doesn’t mean I don’t choose what I want to experience. It means I can let go of things my mind creates. I can let go of the belief that I can’t choose what I want to experience. I can choose what I want to experience. I choose what I want to experience, what serves me. I surrender to what serves me.
I cried in my ritual grieving time this morning and reminded myself of the oneness that transforms the pain into beauty.
I can choose to experience the dismal depths or to experience the awe of movement in life and the rejoicing in resurfacing and dancing.
I’m flowing in oneness. Thanks for dancing with me.
No comments:
Post a Comment