At 11 11 GMT, (which being British, is Best) yesterday, my companion-in-the-Work and I made a nice cup of tea, stopped talking, and enjoyed together the latest Big Bang.
What a great day! Everything is ROUND, like the Mayan calender. I even got a snowball from Israel – (my cher ami’s family) – and threw one back to them:
This drawing was done back in the naughty 90s, but my dear Ex in it (currently in India) looks rather like my cher ami now! – but has more hair.
OK Xmas cracker: now for my usual SERIOUS STUFF.
I sleep better this week, and woke this morning with a vivid impression of two long electric cables being plugged in – (to me?) – blue and yellow. These colours were in something I saw or thought of, recently. Anyway, they are the colour tones of the Priestess and the Magician/Strength/Fool. Priestess and Fool are my old partnership. Blue and yellow irises: buttercups and blue sky – the colour recipe some people use to go to sleep with – remember that.
Today has that winter grey feeling, Xmas chores are done (except Slippers and Calender) and I might go snuggle with cher ami this afternoon, and watch strictly tinsel on TV. I feel as if every tree is covered with snow. It is raining.
In the world are many disappointed dressed up persons with nowhere to go. The Great Moment passed and nothing happened. The Great Moment has informed my psyche in recent years, because I am sensitive to the collective astral pulse and its themes behind the heartbeat. That meant my little “me” subscribed to some of the nonsense, and felt apprehensive, and blogged like mad.
It is so beautiful the way the symbols cohered yesterday, and gently touched – especially Paul’s xmas card for me, with all its Circles and Eyes, like raindrops.
The Great Moment is now, and passing through all the time.
The Companions of the Light and of crop circles, set up 220.127.116.11 End of Mayan Time, as a joke – to give all the humans a tension buildup, whose relaxation helps us behave a bit better to each other … the relief of a belief. It was in the collective subconscious. Of course, most of us pooh poohed it and went about our business, but it was there all the same, the butt of many a bad legpull. And for the gun-psychosis victims in the States, their parents’ world ended just the week before. The agony.
Those children, those souls were “taken out” abruptly. Many interesting souls died in 2012. They are precise, creative placements on the membrane’s other side. A child’s sudden removal is a bud taken in full fruit. Some of them were advanced souls, and their brief of birth was not to blur their spirit-level with the problems of life. They incarnated just enough to get earthed, be loved, and acquire some language; then go back behind the veil and do their job. Those children now are strong. But it is not sufficient for their grieving parents to join self-interested séances. The grieving parents have to grow, to realise their child is in the Life Stream for their own and the human evolution, through the tipping point. And contact. Aquarius is the contact with the whole human ocean around the globe – experientially, scientifically, cybernetically and spiritually. Touch hands.
As consciousness, none of us are born. None of us die. We are in eternal connection.
The soul is an infinitely wider landscape than the small presentation of it which births into a family’s love, upbringing, school, abuse, and adult Karma. Rapidly those little ones with their irreplacible gap-tooth smiles, shot through the veil, and now are transpersonal Counsellors. The many sudden and “meaningless deaths” of loved-ones, increase the Manifestation of the Wise, as Aquarius dawns and lifts the dust. For those little children are ancient Ones.
I have yet to experience the traumatic death of a loved one. All the deaths I have been with so far, have been at a ripe old age, or ready and willing to go; so they were celebrations. My parents are still alive. I am nearly 64. I don’t know how I shall feel when they go. BUT – I used to dream again and again, that my baby daughter died. I even tried to dig her up. Those were recurrent nightmares of streaming, shattering, unbearable loss and grief. THE GRAVE.
In my last life, she was aborted from me; my cells have the memory. It is said that I, as young Sarah, died in 1895 at 48, from ovarian cancer, which is grief. It fully tasted me.
The antipodean seer who told me this in 2010, was reading my Akasha records quite accurately at that time. Then a moment came when for various reasons, he could no longer do so. He had been going to give me all the details. He wrote and told me not to correspond with him any more.
In this lifetime I remember, when I was in my late forties, worrying I may not survive fifty, I might desert my daughter, my parents and my loved ones.
My Cheiron return pushed this button hard! – the wounded healer, my daughter’s “eclipse” into San Francisco. I was able to keep in touch with her during her wild years by being silent and calming down. Somehow I knew in the silence she was well, and that this bedrock honesty is better than conventional reassurances.
Goodness! What unexpected and interesting thoughts, this morning.
Placement at the other side is Consciousness each side of the Yule door: a delineation as the Age of Aquarius matures. The Age of Aquarius began in 1600 when Kepler met Tycho de Brahe and plotted the orbit of Mars; but Aquarius in full, begins around now. There are big penumbrae of passing, between Ages. They overlap, casting a pomegranate curve of shadow: vesica pisces. December 2012 is the present portal – Jesus’s birth and death was perhaps another.
A Great Portal requires nothing more, than to sense it is there, and go about one’s daily life in a relaxed way.
Regarding grief and its expression, and how unreachable I was to my family until I broke down during Marisa’s travels, and said how painful it actually was …
On an Ascension path, one is bound by an astral loyalty to the Guardians which makes expression in life extremely difficult. I tended to chatter in code, and in slogan, and to preach. This appears like arrogance. It is not. It is the struggle to find a language in which both emotional realities – each side of the Door – are honoured and can converse, or agree not to. It is painful, and for a long time isolating. Growing older, erodes the resistant membrane, and helps me to laugh at me, to be vulnerable and to share.
There is a close relationship between those who pass on and those who stay on the earth plane. We who stay, assist those who pass – in our daily actions and understandings – to become coherent in their transpersonal duties, feeding back. We are all interconnected. Wherever this is recognised, is Consciousness. It is the sunlight breaking through my Path of Awe.
My adventure invites fellow travellers. I am a poet, an artist and a seer. I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.
This blog is a vehicle to promote also my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books). Watch this space.
Other blogs: (click on image) – Aquariel, Reckless Fruit (1), Reckless Fruit (2)
All art and creative writing in this blog is copyright © Janeadamsart 2012. May not be used for commercial purposes. May be used and shared for non-commercial means with credit to Jane Adams and a link to the web address https://janeadamsart.wordpress.com/