2018-1-6

Questions and Bitter

The first thing I see in the morning is the google account getting shut off.  A crunchy, bitter feeling rises in my chest.  A disgust at the repeated pattern.  Life would be so much easier if Yeshua and I were not scraping for food to support the ministry of the Mythica so regularly.

Faith falters, the olde wound rising.   I do not like the feeling of this realm.  It feels awry with the True Tone of the Presence, and it’s thoughts are bitter.  I remind myself of the process, that a clear lens may receive the Light.

Frustration arises.  There is such resentment towards the pattern, seen as a thing within the Self in outward manifestation.  Dark thoughts gather around the necessity of practice.   It seems like we must invoke a constant, constant application of ‘Manifestor’ consciousness and Deva Yoga, in effort to free ourselves from this imprisonment of vibration.  In which we are demanded, again and again, to figure the cause.

Yet such is the Quest.

Consciously, I invoke the asana of Gratitude to cool my rancor with the circumstance.  With clenched teeth I force down my bile and will myself into more practices in the hopes of clearing the way, feeling the rage within me, at feeling denied, out-of-sync with the causal threads of Abundance.

The grand irony of this is that there is real Value.  Real enlightenment, real understanding.  The healing that passes through my avatar is real.  The awareness that drives the Mythica is real.  The VALUE is real.  While I confess to learning how to be at peace with “What Is”, the clarity is real.  I Know God is Good.  I Know Abundance is our birthright.  It is getting to that manifestation, clearing the patterns within the Self that is the deep work of the Mythica.

Wielding the asana of Gratitude, I focus my attention on the blessings that have appeared.  We have a place to stay.  Internet.  The site is coming together.  We have opportunity to meditate and to play music.  Fellowship continues to grow.  The Deva Yoga is doing what she is meant to do, gradually clearing our distortions.

In the other room, I hear Yeshua’s computer, playing a recording from the Agape ministries.  Intent on receiving some vibration to rekindle me to Love, I click on a sermon, trusting that the right form of what I require will arrive.  I check the December 24 video.

Reverend Beckwith speaks of “Imagine that you took just one day and said, regardless of what happens today I’m going to Love to the max.  I’m going to forgive to the maximum.  I’m going to share to the maximum.  Without any inhibition whatsoever.  You would be setting something in motion that would allow that which is within You that is Perfect to unfold, to express itself.  Ultimately, it’ll burn down the structures of your present paradigm, it’ll scare the ego to death, but the unfolding of more Good than You can possibly imagine will take over.  You will live from a higher order of being.”

The emanation rekindles me.  Remembering my intention for this year, I resolve that I must do more practices, reminding myself that such is my aspiration to this year, to surrender and find Love for What Is.  To see if holding that Love actually dissolves is, embodying the life visioning granted to me by the Presence, proving the physics of the quest as we travel the rainbow road to the Brightlands of God’s Kingdom.

The Timbre of Love

I take some medicine, to relax, and breathe into Beckwith’s reminder.  My body burns in response to the smoke, yet I forgive myself.  Breath flows through me again.  Aloha.  I feel the textures of the deva more clearly, there is awareness, and thus the ability to soften into the experience.

I recognize that all of this is the healing.  The resolution of the splinter between Heaven and Earth that I have worked so long to redeem.  Such has been the crack at the center of my being, the purpose of the Journey Home and the great Service to the Presence for which I have been privileged.

Focusing into the threads and patterns within the Self

From the depths of my vantage I see, flares, nubs along the threadline of my Self’s Path.  Discomfortable to my psychic touch.  I feel them, patterns of repeated reaction to circumstance, wrapped in a shell of bitterness.  The tones sings it’s disharmony to me as I breathe, extending the nimbus of my awareness into the imagery of my body’s deep language.  Consciously, I invoke the subtle asana of forgiveness, feeling it’s balm moving along the channel of my awareness into the body.  Breathing through the layers.

My Aspect revolves around the shape of it.  We must be witness to our inner movements, for such witnessing is the very conduit through which the healing happens.  How I have hated the splinter.  The fractured pieces of the Self, strewn across the realms.  Yet if it were not for the splinter, there would have been no need, no necessity to forge my Journey Home.  I would not have done the yogas if I did not have to, nor be girding myself to face what needs be done now.

“This is the mission.” I remind myself, breathing forgiveness into the harsh places of my relationship with What Is.  Of course it’s uncomfortable.  Yet such is the road ahead, deeper into the realms of Love.

And I abide.  I hold space for my Self, my beautiful, heroic Self, moving across the landscape of the Incarnate.  Bearing torchlight across the realms of Shadow, tracking his way back to the Brightlands of God’s emanation.  I hold him in compassion and recognition as a cherished thing, appreciating his bright effort to excellence.

Shakes move through my form as I breathe Love into the body, knowing this contest with form is contest with the nature of Self itself.  I weave an Opening, filling it with the timbre of Beckwith’s reminder, still echoing in the softness beneath the surface.  The body responds, small harmonies forging at the edges of the nubs, cooling the fire.

Sometimes it feels as though I have always been striving to make passage into the realms of Love.  That my prism of Self held so much distaste for the mortal condition, for what must be tolerated, what must be ‘held space for’, here caused such deep reaction.  It is the grandest of ironies, the grand inconstancy that is the splinter itself that I came here out of Love and have had to relearn Her contours from the dungeons of resentment of What Is.

Earlier today, Yeshua declared his frustration with an aspect who did not meet him.  We did a ‘From the Quest’ about it (and other things).  I feel him so strongly.  The error.  The sin in relationship.  The cracked mirror we work to redeem.  I know the pain of broken fellowship, of feeling unmet in one’s willingness to bow to each other. The conditions that we must transform, clear within our Selves such that we move the World entire one step closer to Heaven on Earth.

I get it.  And I have hated it’s nature with all of my being.  Yet such is the mission.  I have to recognize that this Loving acceptance is the healing, that with Clarity there is Compassion for what it means to be human.  Emboldening myself with Beckwith’s remembrance, I shift my inner asana, invoking Love and unconditional Forgiveness through the field.

 

A Breath of Water

Results rise from the application of unconditional Love! As I sit, focusing my attention into the subtle asana of Love, I feel a ripple in the field.  Moments later, a text comes in from the beauteous Goddess I had encountered days earlier.

 

 

 

 

 

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