Seeds Of Ascension Series:
In Kansas? Sparky, I Don’t Even Think We’re On Earth Anymore.
At certain times in our lives a rare wind blows across the fields of our minds that like others before it, stirs leaves and rustles grasses. Only this breeze disturbs dust covering dormant memories thought buried beneath the weight of time’s passage. Stricken chords begin vibrations, opening barbs of echoes nagging at the consciousness. Singing to voices thought gone from previous incarnations, former lives and sequestered dreams.
As dust settles and the wind diminishes, illusions present themselves that everything appears the same as before. Except the eyes and their four accompanying cohorts are in a sense easily deceived fools, allowing self-absorbed egos to bask in their own vanities. Oblivious to the fact that evolution is an aching compulsion beckoning with greater urgency at every passing breath to let change occur naturally. While within, the subconscious relentlessly hammers away at logic’s walls with persistent scratches of intuition’s voice.
Calling out to the settling dust, that as the wind quiets, something has inexplicably changed.
And as the stirred leaf is returned to its former position, awakenings take root in the realization, beneath knowing’s furtive glances, that it can never be put back into the same state of cognizance as before.
Expelling the old self and inhaling the new is all part of the process, the rhythmicity of life, like the waves of the ocean stealing at the shore’s foundation of imposed truths.
In the Akashic Hall of Records I look up from the Tome, my mind inscribing astral light thoughts onto the blank pages set before me. “Why am I here?” I ask.
The Hathor guide moves behind me. “Sundering one’s self from the whole and from All That Is brings not truly understanding, not knowing Thyself.” He glances at my words. “You begin to understand this final Chakra lesson well. It is time for this teacher to leave, for there is no more I can show you.”
I have learned much from him, with so much left to learn. He vanishes as I finish writing. Even time itself, in the scheme of universal matters, becomes meaningless.
Yet enlightenment cannot be won without darkness and from that void comes the sacred knowledge that there is no going back, no retreating from awareness, for that surely leads on the path to madness. We have both inside, light and dark, awareness and ignorance. To deny one means to surrender to the other and that is one of the secrets in transcending this realm and in comprehending the existence of the others.
Still, somewhere on awareness’ wind comes the tongues of chaos humming an endless incantation, as surely as old people whisper and children laugh freely, that nothing, absolutely nothing, is as we remembered it.
Nor can it ever be as it once was.
That wind blew this morning as you chose to open this book.