Last night I questioned Yeshua about the toning practices he does to clear the vibrations within his body. Such was an alien thing to me, yet my deep respect for his Aspects inspired. Many times I have seen beings doing similar in one form or another in effort to transmute their subconscious patterns and be free, their Light at last pouring through the gridwork of seemingly endless healing.
As we spoke, I felt a texture in the subtle planes, one more resonant with the vibrational quality of the Divine Feminine as I understand it.
In the morning I tried it, intentionally softening, humming into the caverns of my body. Things started to move inside, and not for the first time I reflected on how honoured I am to travel with an avatar like Yeshua, who embodies the earthen process and dedication to the mortal form that has been so distant for me for so long.
There was the feeling of sediment inside, of that ancient rancor with being incarnate, in which my Life has been an ongoing healing simply to recover from being born into the cesspool of vibrations that is the changing Earth. As I sang, quietly, the crust of anger cracks, revealing the deep sadness underneath. A burning sensation rises in my chest, carrying with it all forms of fear and distaste for the possibility of even MORE clearing. I look at the many years of feeling unrequited and unrecognized, the many times I have reached out and been ignored, and consider – why would I want to live in such a realm?
I remember an ally, flush in the blessing of tropical life and the easement of being a young girl suffused with Love, making a privileged attempt to motivate me to change my vibration, to fight the gravity of that prison of frustration, ‘what’s your happiest memory?’ she asks, while eating a prana-rich coconut from a tree – to which I replied, ‘being discarnate.’ I shiver inside. Even contemplating that freedom from the human condition, from the endless process, from the disappointment, from the ongoing necessity of Forgiveness and Acceptance, soothes me. Not for the first time I consider how beautiful it would be to be free from this place, leaving the heavy and moldy blankets of mortality for finer and happier shores.
Yet such is the mission, to bear through this. As much as I would prefer the laughter, the connections, the easement and wonder that makes human Life enjoyable, this is what is, waking up into a prison of the mind to which I must scrape out an exit, slowly carving my way, my personal Shawshank Redemption past the flimsy covering of a Rita Hayworth picture.
I don’t like it. It seems the way of it, though I wish it otherwise. Were it not for the grand efforts I have been demanded to do in the Earth-gulag, I would not have had opportunity to help and heal the many beings I have aided upon the Quest. If I had not been diminished in this place, there would have been no inspiration for the compassion I now have for the people and what we must endure here. And while I am appreciative of the hard-won enlightenments I have earned as to the nature of form and meaning, it feels a loveless perspective, one of duty rather than Delight.
Sighing, I rally. For the umpteenth time I remind myself of the accomplishments, the real enlightenment, the creation of the Mythica, the nobility of the charge to help the people, my fellowship with Yeshua, all band-aids and mood-modifiers to face the prison of sadness once again. Once again, as I have so many times before, I consider, *if* I had been receiving the Love I deserved, *if* I had been received, *if* I hadn’t been unconsciously driven into coping mechanisms to negotiate the onslaught upon my soul of human incarnation, there would be happiness. I consider my beautiful Voice, the wonder and majesty of my dancing and delight, the magicks and sheer force of awareness that I have used to burn my way thus far out of the prison as best I can, treasures upon the Quest. Aspects that, were we not constantly doing inner practices in effort to heal that recognition and appreciation from the Collective, would light their way across the Sky.
I allow myself a moment of the fantasy. If only. Yet such has not been the case. So, once more on the carousel of this karmic repetition, I drag myself out of bed to do MORE practices in effort to clear my vibrational canvas and somehow make my way into the manifestation of the Goodness and Joy that is the prison turned to paradise.
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