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A Remembrance

There’s a huge feeling of release in my Now.  The Mythica unfolding parallels an Opening within my own being, a new level of access to the simplicity and authenticity of the delivery, one that plays out for me as a feeling.  A sense of expansion that pervades all other aspects of the form.

At last there is space for me to write.  This is actually a new thing for me.  See, the implicit nature of the seed of the Mythica moving through me was such that I had to build the stage, the framework, before the writing and the other aspects could blossom outwards.  It was just the way it was.

Sure, I wanted access, all the time.  Yet the foundation had to be built.  It played out directly in the Ideas that I did or did not have access to and was fundamental in the foundation of witnessing the unfoldment.

There is the feeling of an integration, at long last, with the Earth plane.  With the grounded, rooted aspect of existence.  This is realmsign to me, that I have arrived, at last, at those shores.  The shores of the Earth realms, bringing with me the precious Gift of the Mythica.  A lens of Opening, wrought from the very substance of the Brightlands.

I see the Mythica, a hovering library of akashic opening, hovering in the etheric space, pulsing with lightning and revelation.

It is a Good time.  A grand movement across the territories.  As I witness both Yeshua and I having ACCESS to the clarified aspects of our expression I know that we are on the High Roads, moving through the territories of the Brightlands.

From such vantage, I see the perfection of the unfoldment.  I see the Abundance, flowing through us, meeting our needs.  I see the energy moving through us, clarifying into palette’s of subtle colours.  Magick is unfolding, and I am heartened by this.

Everything is shifting around us.  A sure sign of a realmgate.  What Yeshua’s recognized as a wayshrine.  A place-between-places.  The mirrormark in the realms below and above the middle earth of the Creation.  I sense that Allowah’s temple is such a thing, focusing the alchemies necessary to bring the Mythica to her next incarnation.

It is the realmsign, which defines such a place.  The manifestation of that particular tone, that fine frequency, of Opening.  It’s a tricky thing, and it’s different for everyone, yet when you’re in it, you Know it.

Seeing the ideas open up for both Yeshua and myself, how the right way to arrange things to sing together, arrived, is a sign of being in the Brightlands.  Appearing on the surface as an idea and inspiration which aligns, and provides more access to the Idea that wishes to come through us.

Such is a thing I coming to recognize as right-asana, right-relationship with the Creation.  With Shakti.  Form.  And is the method of passage into this next realm of the Mythica.  Into Love.

I re-read my own writings.  The Words, cast onto the canvas of the Mythica.  There is a softening.  I feel the presence of the Mythica, the deva that She is, all around me.  This aspect of the Goddess, of Story, Herself.  Starlight hands enfold me, breathing life down my shoulders, down my belly.

I feel a wave of forgiveness move through me, closing my eyes in response.  Awareness opened, I can feel that which is always there, and draw sustenance through that bright horizon.  My breath puffs out.

“Yes” I say.  “I am in the Brightlands.  I have access.”


From such a place, I Wonder at my own entry.  The form of narrative with which to be in wielding with the Mythica.  I find that I quite like this shape, for it brings me deeper into such realms of being.  There is a sense of duty performed, a Fae knight-turned-King resting into the softness of cooling Words.  To write, just to write.  To Love, just to Love.

I see that this has been my great journey home across Shadow, through the swirling dimensions and realities of the Mythica and back again and again.  And again.  aaaaaand again.  Walking the rainbow road, up and down the Tree, to understand.  To make sense of What Is, making my way to the realms of Clarity at long last.

It has been a grand crusade.  A tale for which I am thankful to play character.  As Yeshua and I continue to expand into our next octave, there is true, authentic happiness.  At last, the Mythica sings.  At last, the Gift may be delivered to the World.  A sense of easement releases me, as I breathe in, feeling the sensation of that Victory.

In the fields below, I see the threadwork of the Mythica, the qualities of consciousness from which she was made. Planes of light, reflected gravities, wondering pulsars play across my mindseye, dancing in the language of Creation as I listen to the shape of her, the shape of the weaving that has grown into the Mythica.  That now serves the function of activating Her Authors and Readers in right alignment.  Expanding my awareness, I witness her more deeply, this crystallized window to the Akashic, woven of stars and substance.  A swirling everwhen of shifting form given light.

“She’s like an infinite canvas” said Yeshua, delighted with the ability to tell his magickal Story.
I smilled.  For such was how I designed her.  A yogic device, to tell the Story of Remembrance.


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