We Humans

We humans spend little time acknowledging (and thereby benefiting from) the infinitely unique system – made of many ‘systems’ – that we are.

Not just as a biological race capable of procreating and hybridizing, but the actual multidimensional miracle of the physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, etheric, and creative associations we each are.  Not to mention the collective experience of so many past lives.

Unlike dragonflies that have changed little over hundreds of million of years, humans have been in our current Earth form for only an eye blink.  That our chariots are now mercury powered flying saucers did not occur randomly.  Our evolution is largely self-directed, though we are little aware of those ‘alien’ aspects of ourselves who have been involved.

Our default attention is traditionally directed to identifying with the face and body that our physical DNA adds up to.  Very nice; undoubtedly why reflection, and then mirrors, were invented, and making it easy to draw the erroneous conclusion that that’s us.  Add our fascination with drama and it’s possible to lead a very external, non-intuitive life.

The emotional and mental bodies then have their way with us as well – which most of us experience.   Each of our layers has its own chakras, consciousness, and survival agenda.  Whichever we feed the most with our attention grows the strongest.  It’s our job to bring all those unique inner bodies into harmony.  Ideally we nurture them all with a balanced diet of self love.

There are zillions of practices to promote well being; none more powerful than gratitude.  If you have to ask for what, you’re missing the point.  Arriving at self love, which we then mirror out to all we perceive and experience, and for which we are reverently grateful, is the same frequency from which all miracles occur.

As Source consciousness exists in every atom and nanoparticle of everything, it’s pretty cool that we have this powerful yet fragile experiencing machine (our current body/brain model) to explore such infinite divinity with.  That means that we are full of that core sacred magic from which all realities are constructed.  And constructed in such a way that the only limits placed upon it are those of our individual and societal selves.

ALL of reality is belief based.  If we allow our victim mind to have its way, we are classic victims.  If we allow our possibility powers to prevail, we can have everything we want or need.  We are genetically predisposed with the power to manifest solid objects out of thin air.  Ancient beliefs and deeply ingrained negative experiences have suppressed this.

All other life, and everything else that we don’t perceive as such, like sand and glass, pavement, buildings, nails, are also constructed of variations of that same alchemic magic, but contain fewer complex systems than we do.  When we view and measure everything around us based only on how we as a race generally inter react in an anthropocentric one-way focus, we miss all the best experiences and gifts that the whole of creation has to offer.  After all, we are all part of the same thing.  Anomalies and islands are illusions.

It’s all conscious.  Most of it can’t speak at the frequency our 3D ears/brain can perceive, but can experience and communicate in paradigms we don’t understand.  This becomes more evident as our sixth chakra, or ‘third eye’, awakens.

Those who have never heard an oak or a hawk say “I love you” either didn’t believe what they were hearing, or it was drowned out by the din of inner drama.   All of nature sends out such messages when not being abused or destroyed.  Sometimes you have to quietly hug a tree to hear it, and if you can’t hear it, you shoild at least be able to Feel it.  Hawks are trickier to hug.

We, on the other hand, have capacities encoded in our twelve strands of DNA that few give thought to while distracted by the wealth of available drama.  Little do we realize what an enormous part of our reality we build with our minds and emotions rather than our hands.  Much of that, whether deliberate or subconscious is capacitated by the ninety-some percent of our genetics that is considered – or was considered – ‘junk DNA’.

We are all creators within a greater creation. When measured against all probability factors, we are each a phenomenal miracle.  What a wonderful opportunity to fine tune the benefits of our gifts.  For several reasons:  1) Now is the only time anything happens.  2) If you’re reading this, you may be human, which is the whole point of being who we are.  And infinitely unique.

The human race as well as the very planet from which we’re made are in the throes of an ascension of frequency.  We are entering the Fifth Dimension, which has often confusingly been referred to as ‘heaven’.

This is a dynamic cosmic shift, which everyone is experiencing, particularly the painful parts.  Don’t let that discourage you and throw you off your divine path of discovering why we’ve gone to all this trouble over thousands of lifestreams each.  Collectively we contain absolutely everything that is commonly misunderstood as ‘God’.

And why we have come together upon this planetary venue at this time.

It Is Written

Reams of thought, inscripted,

Like drifts of fallen snow;

Melt-worthy minds may mine it,

Given time enough to know.

 

Falling rain ‘neath sun kissed clouds

May reach a patch of earth

That thirsts for more than mother’s milk

Beyond this worldly birth.

 

The pages lie as prism leaves

In multi-layered hues,

Awaiting hearts to blossom out

So sleeping minds may choose

 

To burn those books of stolen dreams,

Hypnosis of the past,

Forgotten in the confidence

That love is never last.

 

Truth Leak

The things that I don’t tell myself

Don’t interrupt the weeks.

I live my life from outside in

Until a whisper leaks.

 

A seed of truth, a speck of light

Has fallen on the line.

I shake my head and look around

Like everything was fine.

 

The apple color hides the core

Of seeds that all could grow.

Unless the seeds should come to earth

The sun could turn to snow.

 

A month can pass without a sound,

Exploding in the night,

Stop the day when dreams should fall

Or drop a bird in flight.

 

A spoken word, a piece of song,

Can apple blossoms shout?

It takes a ray of screaming truth

To live from inside out.

 

Don’t Rest There Too Long

There are moments of awakening

That stretch out cold and flat;

The ego’s long resistance

To what your soul is at.

 

Those valleys are but crossroads

Where the less resolved are lost

On the journey to well being;

Only peace and joy the cost.

 

This voyage never ending

Will continue either way;

In smooth divine awareness

Or self-absorbed dismay.

 

Harmony or estrangement

Are simply states mind;

Eyes closed can see great beauty –

Wide open often blind.

 

In every thinking moment

Use joy as sacred spice;

Adopt it as a habit,

The most empowering vice.

 

When you know each moment perfect:

Trip and destination ONE,

You’ve booked liberation’s passage,

And you’ve only just begun.

World History

It’s no miracle,

Not a mystery,

Just a major

Piece of history.

 

History of what?

Your right to ask-

Of that which lives

Behind a mask.

 

Some would tell it

To only deceive:

Look only within

For in what to believe.

 

As many truths

As those who would speak:

If a heart is closed,

No truth shall leak.

 

As the world spins,

So too the history.

If we sit on the truth

We’re bound to get blistery.

The Sacred Grove

Who has girdled the sacred grove?

Do the trees know they have died?

Where the flow of life has severed

Is no sap, but tears that dried.

 

The leaves have lost their luster,

With no connection to the roots.

The foresters in attendance

Are harlequins and mutes.

 

The leaves don’t know they’re dead yet,

Fading green no proof of life.

It matters not how the bark was lost:

Lack of love is a perfect knife.

 

For the oak and life have cycles

That are infinite looping bands.

Any part removed by loss of love

Means endless severed strands.

 

Where the bark is gone – no cambium,

No sugars will reach the soil.

For one gross breach of etiquette

The entire tree will spoil.

 

Deeply woven in the planet

Pulses life in these ancient roots.

We look to the base of the dying trunks

And visualize healthy shoots.

 

Or perhaps new life will arise afresh

From an acorn lying sleeping:

A sprout untainted by memories

When the grim one ceases reaping.

 

The Druids who came to cooperate there

Are long gone from the land,

But many of those who care so much

Are returning to lend a hand.

 

We will stand and worship together,

We and the trees as one,

And in the canopy spread above us:

The moon, the stars, and the sun.

Alarm

A series of skirmishes

This morning with the snooze button,

Aggravated at least three false starts

On the threshold

Between the Palace of Dreams

And the waking illusion

Where we play out our lives

Just this side of the covers.

The amphitheater backstage

Has many rooms

For rehearsals, reminders,

reintroductions and recreation.

As pure spirit

We slip easily

Between these venues,

Yet balk most strongly

At the earthly dream,

The “waking” one,

Upon the stage

Where birth was our harsh debut.

All the roles are voluntary.

Reluctance makes its assigned guest appearance

Only when we see our reflection

In the spotlight,

And forget the lines

We have always know,

While we sleep ourselves awake again.