That terribly frightened, solitary, no one understands me, me, wants to talk today. The desire to resolve duality. The body. The vessel that has housed this consciousness. The rules that were imposed on this vessel, encouraged it to negate it’s intricately non-physical, non-duality truth. This vessel that cannot help but know beyond the mind. That has always sensed beyond the mind and the constructs of the tangible realm and had to work in cohoots, in secrecy, incognito towards the resonance of others. This body, which has housed conversations with Masters, with Angelics, with “Others” so many times but rarely experienced the joy of plain old human companionship as a result.
I had an intake with a therapist today. I’m having a difficult time navigating certain dimensions, understanding the language. I get the mass foundation our reality is built upon and truly, deeply love the effort that has gone into growing it, that 3D world and way of life. I wrestle with how to explain my higher dimensional selves, aspects, knowledge and all things not 3D. The compulsion, the work, the effort my spiritual walk entailed. I don’t have easy answers. I appreciate those who do. “Earth was troubled by darkness, lower beings, forces, ways and is evolving/ascending out of it.” How do I tell a therapist trained in traditional routes that I was part of the team (as we all are) to ensure the survival of our species? I didn’t have time to commit to a 9-5, to the gathering of stuff, to play the normal card. Every time I tried, the rug was pulled out under me.
Ever been in the military, they ask. No, not this time. But I got an Angel on my stream that knows it all too well. Thank God I never had to do that. I don’t like to imagine what they’ve been through. This body was fortunate. But the question always hangs me up. And I don’t know how to explain the hang up. The little glitch, the “where’s the stop time and delete button” because I don’t want even one human to have ever gone through that and the enormity of emotion that wells up in me. The walks I used to take with my uncle as a small girl, not long after he returned from Vietnam. The long walks, “no stopping to rest cause it just makes it worse” because I was the only one he could stand to be around. Just answer the question. Hope they don’t see the hang up, the hesitation when clearly the answer is no, the wondering if they comprehend what the fuck it means that any human has had to endure that. That humans not only endured it, but remained human despite it.
Do you believe other people can hear your thoughts? Do you see or hear things that aren’t there? No, no of course not. I suppose I could bring the research on telepathy in, on heart coherence and quantum entanglement, on the machines and programs that can map out and create images and texts based on your thoughts, on the work that some of the uber wealthy are attempting regarding consciousness, get a guru or a monk or an occultist on the line to explain, but no. Just a simple no. So I can figure out how to walk in your world where these things don’t exist, again. Because, really, you don’t want to know, ma’am, you really, really don’t. Teach me how to lie again. I’ve forgotten how.
No. I don’t want to lie again. I want to learn to be ok again. To walk in just this one world with people who adamantly enforce one version that as of yet, has not included me in a way that I am ok with. Me. Empath, super-sensitive, Citizen of Heaven, Spirit, One with my Father, actively reviving my Mother, raising her from the too close to dead. This world, where everything that’s ever been viewed, labelled, used to harm must be transmuted to light, love, free. Where I still don’t know what’s ok to say and what will get me labelled as crazy from their perspective. “You’re not a victim, Melissa, you create your reality.” Yep. It’s not that I don’t know that. It’s just that I remember a time when I didn’t. And I know what I did when I didn’t. And undoing it, uncreating it, transmuting and changing it, well, I have the ways that work for me and they don’t include throwing out common sense just yet.
When and where I grew up, there was no talk of spiritual Mastery, there was no concept of attempting Buddhahood or Christ Consciousness or 12-strand DNA or Galactic heritage. I did these things in secret because that is what was expected. On the fringe. Walking between worlds. Failure to accommodate, to engage in the norm was not met with a great deal of enthusiasm. These were things that were left for people from other cultural backgrounds, with skin darker than mine. If I didn’t have enough DNA to make my skin darker, I was expected not to act or think or want to know what it was like for my Cree ancestors. Your skin is too white, your hair too light, doesn’t matter if your grandpa was a tribal judge, you’re not Indian enough to get enrolled, you’re not Indian enough to feel Indian, so it went.
And all of these things, all of these thoughts, all of these memories that led to here. The wisdom gained to change the world for the better. To bring the resonance of Heaven to a larger field where there aren’t traps and loopholes and hidden portals to not Heaven you can accidentally fall in. To bring closure to all that was and never speak life to it again. Not as a lie but as a matter of commitment and conviction.
And you know what’s on the other side of all that healing from shit that’s been done to you? Healing from all the shit you did to others. Finding a way back to forgiveness and clarity. Why was I so driven towards Spirit, towards Soul, towards weird ass metaphysical gifts? To the point the shared tangible world decided I was crazy, unfit mother, unemployable, fringe? I wish I could tell you that it was worth it but I don’t know. I know I can breathe myself into a state of bliss. I know that what I say goes. And well beyond my front door. I know that I am connected and aware of things that fill me with awe, weeping from the sheer magnitude of the beauty but I know I sacrificed any idea of normal for both myself and my kids to get here and I don’t know if they’d agree it was worth it. Hopefully they’ll never know the full extent of danger humanity faced. Before. Before so many popped awake, enlightened, able. I don’t know that they wouldn’t have rathered a mother that worked her 9-5, bought them stuff, embraced the regular, but I didn’t. Couldn’t. Never had the white picket fence in me, hard as I tried.
So here I am and here we are. Making all the strangeness worth it. Looking towards a now where I can be around others without speaking and they’ll know who I am and why I did it.