Before and Again

Before there was, I was.

And again, I am; the ceaseless answer to the call and prayer, “Hear us, oh Lord.”

I am the light; a lumined torch so that we may see.

I am the bread; to sate the hunger for spirit and bring comfort in fear.

I am the door; a threshold through which all may walk.

I am the good shepherd; guided by the hearts’ call.

I am the vine bringing the drunken love of the divine.

Again, I am. Born of water, bathed in fire; from stone I’ve grown and beast become.

I walk with thunder, dance on wings between rain, and spin through the heart of man.

Again, I am. The son that rises in the West. The womb of the heart and the breath between the Breath.

Again, I am.

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“I never knew I was cherished. Until now.”

-1383January 02, 2005

I never hungered for food as a child. I starved, though, for the love of my mother–something beyond the loneliness in the emotional sea between us and the actual fear of her ferocity. I thought it’d be in the cupboard of good grades, good behavior (and the occasional hope the connection would be found in the bad as well), diligence and, perhaps, talent.

As an I’ve grown into thisness, though, the opposite has become true. I’m often physically hungry but live steeped in the kind of love that exists beyond a mother’s capacity–that thing of the larger universe that binds us through those perceived seas between us.

There is no longer an attachment to those feelings held as a young child and young adult. They helped mold me and guide me to this place and the beings I am and work with but no longer exist as they used to.  My brain and body no longer hold them but I am reminded each time I touch another whose path has been similar to mine.

When the cells and selves that have held the fear of fist, abandonment and invasion of safety and sex zones, are ready to be opened into the light of mercy, what happens is the thing of dreams. That love that I’m steeped in and of, is felt for, often the first time, in the entirety of another.

To be with someone who, for the first time, can know they are cherished and treasured by all that is holy is magnificent.  When inner strength formerly girded by insecurities opens into love and begins the process of angelic unfolding, I’m reminded of our glory, our potential and the hope that each of us brings the rest of us.

To know–and to feel within every fiber of our being– that we are cherished–without exception, without expectation–is our birthright.

I love you.

Experiencing Christ

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What does it mean when people see you as Jesus or have an experience with Jesus when with you?

There is more than one answer to this question so I’ll begin with the first. I appear as Jesus to many because he is part of who I am. In addition, when people chose to embark on the interaction with me as part of their spiritual journey, who and what they most connect with tend to be the first to appear before them. Some of that is connected to how they define themselves, their own journey, and who they perceive to be their guides into their own unfolding. For some, that is Jesus. For others it may be angels, family, or a particular animal.

The experience of Jesus while in my presence comes in several forms and, although not dependent upon definitions of self or connection to faith, is an indication of where many people are in their life. For instance, some people re-experience crucifixion. And in this, they feel their own emotions connected to physically nailed to the cross,  tenderly loved when brought down from it. For some in this group, it is an expression of surrendering into trusting something other than themselves. Many describe the effect as one of knowing they are transitioning from self-sabotage, suffering, or perceptions of figurative crucifixion by peers or family into a space of self-love or into the loving arms of a mother-figure they’ve never had.

Others have had distinct experiences of the resurrection where the stone is rolled away and light can be seen; where they can see beyond their suffering and that of others.  They see themselves rise, feel weightless, connected to God or angels or particular totems they identify with. Particularly for women, there is the simultaneous feeling of hips separating as if they are giving birth to themselves again.. Each of those have particular meaning to the individual I am with.

Some have more explicit experiences that require no interpretation. One of my favorite stories is from a few years ago when a man I was working with shared this:

I saw and felt him where you are, or as you, and he seemed to reach into someplace both within him but outside himself–like he and the universe were one–and he took his heart and placed it into mine.

Most people who do have the experience of Christ with me  see or feel him as a larger group of Beloveds, guides, sages and such who work in concert with me. They do often perceive that his hands feel differently than mine or others present. And, not everybody has experiences or visions with Jesus while working with me. In fact, those who come expecting it are often disappointed because they believe he or I should appear in a particular way. And, this just doesn’t work like that.

 

Reflecting on Voices

Elie Wiesel died yesterday.

His passing led to my reflection on all the beautiful voices that inspire us, give us hope, and teach peace, forgiveness, and justice.  There are many. They were as wise as they were varied, speaking a singular message with different accents. And I smiled.

This morning I was watching a video about Brexit and read a plaque commemorating a manufacturer’s strike in Northern England. The plaque read “Never Forget. Never Forgive.”  And I cried.

We have had so many voices heard & lauded yet get lost in the void and noise and, though their words and movement touch the heart of many, do not seem to impact the whole. And I wonder why.

I wonder how, too, do we inspire those in our own generations and those behind us to make their voices heard–to shout and sing and wail to keep giving us hope and teach peace, forgiveness, justice and mercy. How do we let them know their voices will not be in vain? That we can both hear, be touched and learn from them?

How can we give them voice and usher them forward when we are so afraid to engage with those who have come before them or heed their progenitors?  When we are so afraid to engage our own?

Here’s one beautiful voice  reciting that of another, courtesy Maria Popova at Brainpickings.

 

Self Segregation and Subjugation of Other

For eons, we have sliced, diced and otherwise organized ourselves and the world in attempts to understand the same. We’ve adopted parlance, accepted philosophies, and constructed ways to structure our individual nature, each other and the systems around us.

Human, self, ego, soul. Super-human, super ego, over soul, higher or deeper self. Personality, intellect, intuition; weird, normal, spiritual or notso. Angel, evil; human and nature. Consciousness that separates that human-self, ego, soul from things and beings outside the boundaries of our skin. Others may have a consciousness but a complex schema of superiority of same keeps the Darwinian divisions intact. We want to ascend to something or someplace higher than we are now in the organizational chart of being someplace or someone else.

These mental construction projects and their language of separation of aspects of self and non-self–have helped maintain notions of subjugation from the rest of the universe, whether we choose to identify that as neighbor, demon or divine. We seek to explore spirit but deny ego or Godliness–keeping us below it or under his control or power; keep roles intellectualized, marginalized, sexualized, and, with some exceptions, diminish those connected to intuitive. As if we need divisions of each, marked like a measuring stick rather than a divining rod.  Holy enough, high enough, ready-or-not-nearer-to-God-enough.

I had a conversation with someone ages ago, who by his own identification, is quite the spiritual person. He remarked that when he wanted to get something from another person in a situation he felt certain would be denied, he spoke to the ‘Higher Self’ of the person he was with. The ‘higher’ self that was for the ‘greatest good’, of course. A slight of voice-mind manipulation of another.

We keep some aspects conveniently internal–intuition, soul, deepest and, others, external.  God is somewhere above, Earth is under our feet. A few weeks ago, Alan Haras shared a story about an interaction he had with one of his teachers, Shyamdas, where he asked about our separation of divine from body-mind & ego-self.  What he took from that lesson was that those divisions are,  “like saying, “Yes, it is all One, except me.  That must be extinguished.”  Or, except when it doesn’t seem right to me or help me make sense of the world around me.

In the conversation above, the person I was talking to had already in his mind subdivided the person he was talking to in a way to consciously manipulate toward a more desired potential outcome.  We do that subconsciously as well when we keep aspects of self and other divided. It’s part and parcel in current discussions of about changing political and socio-economic systems, civil liberties, race & class privilege, and other institutional systems change.

None of this is to say that organization as a way to  an understanding of self are not important because they are. It is in knowing ourownfineselves–fully, wholly–that we can enter into open relationship with those other godly things around us.  That relationship is a partnership that, in its finest expression, allows freedom to be for everyone. Freedom from judgment, control and manipulation comes when we recognize our own value, unique expression, ego and more that are all part of our true nature.

However, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to reach that state of freedom unless that organization and understanding of self bring you to the knowing that your soul is as much in your neighbor, lover, detractor, ancient rivers and aspen grove and that thing called God as you.. If one’s self-dissection does not bring it back to a state of union, then what appears is merely autopsy, not life-giving and love-bringing capacity to others. Knowing thyself is knowing another is not ‘other’.

Try cutting your ego some slack and allowing it to come home. Maybe trying seeing the soul without a leash and giving it room to play in the universal sandbox, and view self-dissection as universal kaleidoscope.

Walking Between

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 Weaving Past & Present with the Ancients

There a several aspects of the work I do. One I hold most dear is what I call ‘the weaving’. The weaving we do is a three-stage process, much like the creation of a hand-loomed rug. It starts with the gathering of materials. Here, though, the weaver is a partnership of Old Ones outside the boundaries of my skin and those within the skin.

The mystical relationship with these invisibles and the purpose behind it requires a unique focus, trust in all things and beings, a release of all preconceived definitions and explanation of things, and the capacity to pivot and flow as the hearted-wind takes us.

In How Do You Know Where You’re Going, I shared that the direction I go is given in visions, dreams, knowings beyond knowing, the call of spirit saying  “Come home’ and the literal call of the telephone or email.

The Old Ones who are my partners in these travels are the ones who provide the requests & direction. Some of them history has recorded–albeit inaccurately in many cases–but each carried, in his time  (yes, most that I’ve identified are male) ‘big medicine’. They were leaders and warrior-healers whose interactions with their people and with those who attempted to confine or destroy them left a lasting impact. Some were those humans who inspired the creation stories of their respective cultures.  Others, like my self-appointed go-fer of things spirit and succor, an Old Missouria-Choctaw named James Eaglefeather, were never written about, though there may be songs of him I’ve not yet encountered.

In this first stage, those to whom the Old Ones connect me  are their kin, those of our generation and younger, who also carry ‘big medicine’. Some of these people have an awareness of their very gifted nature; others do not. Few of those who do, fear making the choice to use it and most are afraid of the judgment of others if they were to fully engage it. Most also share the common thread of not knowing what exactly that gift is or how to use it in the modern context and most can trace their indigenous roots very clearly even though they do not identify as such.  While many are connected to North American ancestry, some have a familial connection to what is now modern Europe, Australia, Asia, Indonesia, Central & South America.

Many still live in communities that were isolated when they could not be eradicated but we are so intimately connected  through our distinct universal thread that when I arrive as a foreigner, we recognize each other as family.

Those that have entrusted me with this sacred work and these relationships have done so for a larger purpose. I may never know why this white woman of no particular indigenous origin or belief system was chosen but that is no longer of import. I do know that it was for a reason greater than my mind can understand but that my heart knows all too well. Each who has come before me has done this work in their place and time. I continue it through this first phase of finding individuals who are here to shape the world in a particular, gifted way.

And so I go where I’m called and requested.

Because if not now, when? If not we, who?

Because our time is now.

Those I work with in this context are people who cannot pay for my services, nor do I expect them (or anyone) to when spirit has led me to them. Some live in the poorest, most ignored places in our country–banished yet still exploited.

I appreciate any help in doing this work, this first stage of weaving the hoop . My only income is through those who support this work or pay for their own. Any donations go to support me and those families with whom I have contact who are in need. If you would be interested in doing either, please go to www.ingridoliphant.com or donate through Paypal via ingrdo@yahoo.com.

Ahéhee’.