Sitting down to write, to focus, to collect myself is a fine habit. An excellent one for a human like me. Powerful beyond words, really. This property I have, to think and express myself with words, is a tool for Gods and Goddesses. It gives me the opportunity to consciously create my own reality to my fancy. Mind blowing. .
I have written a lot in my life. Scripted many visions. Published a few things and written probably a good thousand blog posts by now. Most of them are gone. None of them are written in stone. Thank God.
Some of the words have turned into songs and poetry. Letters of love, celebration and gratitude. Some of them manifested themselves into what is now my life, my family, my friends, my home, my daily practices.
I live my purpose. I always did. For a long time I didn’t know that I did, but now I know. I was always perfect.
Some of the best words I wrote in the sand. Close to the sea. I left messages in the sand on so many beaches, imagining what passers by would think. Would they smile? How long would those messages of love last?
I love seeing my letters and words disappear as the waves wash in. Change is the only permanent thing.
Making sand mandalas like nature makes the best paintings with clouds of all kinds of qualities in the sky. My feeble attempts to be like my maker. Annoyed with the imperfection that was always perfect.
“Truth needs no human words”, Hassan tells me. He is a cat and he speaks to me through the heart channel. He purrs and finds a nice spot to lie down next to the laptop. Good enough. He, more than most, makes me happy and his cat language is clear. Purr Love. A sweet moment, soon to be gone, just like the six months with the MKE. What will I bring with me?
It is late. Winter came back yesterday. It is cold. I am peaceful and still. Fully present in this now. I have no desires at this moment. I have my DMP. The last couple of weeks I have found no interest in reading it. Life kept me more busy than ever with joyful service. The words seem less important at this moment, and yet, I am very happy that I wrote and rewrote those 300 words, that I have read them at least a couple of times every day for a long time. Listened to them. Watched those colored symbols, getting fed up with them, with Og and Haanel too, at times. Why am I doing this? Perhaps it is not at all for me? I am certainly happy alone on a beach or in the forest, just being and making natural art, for me and for the joy of being creative. No one needs to see or know. It was never about that with my art. A secret. The writing is different.
Perhaps I wrote them more for another than for myself? That makes a lot more sense. Doesn’t it?
Not for me, but for You. I can see that now. That gives another sort of satisfaction to the writing.
It does amuse me to think about the visions and scenarios that I have seen in my meditations and that I have put down into words. Of course. Yet, now I can see that the “Why?” was a little off. Thinking that my creative expression perhaps was meant for someone else? What if what comes through me is not even mine?
I feel a little stupid now. I thought “my” artwork, my musings were not good enough to present to the world. What if they are glyphs of truth channeled through me to be seen by and liberate another?
Like colorful butterflies I let my visions and dreams flutter off into cosmos to take form. If they want to. Leaving the heart space open for all possibilities. Trusting, inviting and allowing the most beautiful thought seeds and butterflies to curiously find their way into the nurturing soil of my subconscious mind.
The guardian at the gate smiling as we watch some of those butterflies come back to perch on my head. “You are free”, I whisper. They giggle, “come play with us”.
Spring is around the corner. The sun felt warm on my skin last week for the first time this year. Spring flowers have started peaking up, bringing messages from below the ground. Songs from the rich soil that yearns to support new life. Life that has never seen this sun before.
And so it is. For You.