Little Brother

Every time Sara thought of her little brother, she wept with a depth she’d never felt for anyone else.

She loved her little brother.

And she was always responsible for everything he did wrong.

Constantly confused with someone who didn’t love anyone, her heart was often distracted with projections of heartless-ness.

“WHYyyyyy!?” Sara screamed it into the mirror so no one else would be harmed by her rage.

Even today, no one really understood how deeply Sara loved. At least that’s how it felt to Sara.

Not even her brother for whom she cried everyday could see past his own dark and heavy need for love. No, her brother couldn’t see her at all. She went to war with the devil for him as a baby, she stood for him as a tortured little boy growing up. She took risks with everyone in her family for her brother–the man who was willing to sell his soul again and again because he was desperately seeking recognition by those around him, anyone.

And Sara recognized him no matter how far down he went.

Even when the demons took over his body, she always saw her little brother’s soul, lost behind the glaring red eyes and pointed teeth, lost under the decaying skin of beings no one should ever have to see. She saw Gerard even when he blamed her for everything that went wrong in his life.

“It’s just the demons in him, that’s who’s talking.” Sara continued to believe, even after a lifetime of the same grueling hopeless fight, to find the light in him.

She didn’t want to believe it, but in her heart she knew it was over the day he met Diana. If even one bit of his soul had survived the first 50 years of his life, he’d be hard pressed to save himself now.

Two weeks later while in England her niece Kaitlin called to report that her Father had abused her. She was so frightened she ran down the street to her younger sister’s school to call their Mother. Sara wasn’t surprised, but her chest cracked from the weight of Kaitlin’s emotions.

Six months later, Diana spat in Sara’s face from the altar at her wedding to Gerard. her face was like a beautiful maiden’s on one side. On the other, that familiar disintegration was happening and only Sara saw it. Everyone else in the congregation that night sat staring in unconscious bliss. Even the minister’s skin was decaying.

“She’s got control over him,” Sara felt her own bones turning to dust under her skin. “And now she’s going after  my parents and the girls.”

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Kicks in the Wind

“Finally,” she said. “A moment to myself. No more communication from any source. It’s been a long month.”

Spent, Sara went down on the bed, into the milieu of propped-up pillows placed ever so carefully, in just the right way to create some neutrality for her aching back. Her landing on that cushy cloud of white and green was not graceful. Yet it didn’t matter that the pillows squished out from underneath her body, flattening into a bumpy pile of sponge. Anything to allow her back a reprieve from all the hard work it had been doing was welcome. She couldn’t wait to be still, clear her mind and relax her body, releasing all the thoughts that came to her, everyday, from places mostly unknown, save the few that she’d experienced over and over through the years.

Those, in some strange and self-defeating way, were her constant companions. Most shrinks, most friends, and most anyone who’d offered professional assistance over the years-certainly all the ministers-wanted to make Sara out to be in denial or a state of delusion, even dissociated. She knew though, these were not her thoughts. In fact, they were often the thoughts of those so-called friends and professionals, violently projected onto Sara where they froze in time and space, collecting the dust of similar thoughts that rode in on the wind.

It had now been close to three weeks since one of those bludgeonings had come in on the breeze in the restaurant during brunch one morning. And like many of the negative thoughts that appeared on Sara’s radar, this one was accompanied by a swift kick. That day it went right to the sacrum and lumbar spine, the precise point where her vulnerability had been all her life.

“It’s truly amazing to me, that after all this time, they don’t know I’m paying attention!” Sara laughed to herself. “But maybe the joke’s on me. After all, I keep taking it,” she said it with the wonder of a new perspective. “What would people think or do if I spoke up every time they kicked me?!” Something in that was actually pretty funny.

Sometimes those kicks and throttles came like buckshot from an unknown someone’s rogue spray, yet those who knew her, those whom she knew, focused and aimed. Something in the connection between she and many people—call it Karma if it makes you feel better— highlighted the bull’s eye that was tattooed on her body or somewhere in her aura. Sara wasn’t quite sure where it really existed. This one was no less on the mark, and this was friendly fire, so to speak.

“Maybe it’s my fault,” Sara said it casually to her friend Nora that day in between sips of their favorite chai tea. “Maybe I’m just masochistic enough, or guilty enough, that I point, saying, ‘it’s right here! Just a little to the right and up. There you go! Now you’re on target!’”

Anyway, this night, with all the pillows around her, she really wanted to drift off to sleep like she had several nights before, with a smile on her face, love in her heart, and two sweeeeet, sweet kit cats at the foot of the bed.

“Ah. That feels good,” she was settling in to clear energy and then read for a bit before she turned out the lights.

Twang! Sara’s tendons and ligaments actually sounded off as her neck lost all muscle control and her head snapped back. “Aughfff. Whoa, where’d that come from?” Sara said it aloud but softly to the cats, wondering why her neck was suddenly hinged back and stuck in place. “It’s never come at me like this before–from the front!”

—————————————–

“I need your help,” it came as whisper to the light beings she knew were up there beyond that familiar black cloud. “I need your help, please help me. Why am I being challenged so much in this life?” Sara went to sleep with hopelessness in her voice and the old familiar loneliness in her heart.

“Why can’t I see you? Why can’t this be finished? I’ve worked so hard,” Sara was crying now. The tears came freely; it was the only outlet. Her back was too fragile to sob as deeply and convulsively as she really wanted, and needed.

“THREE, THREE, THREE! Three, three, three!” she chanted, doing the simplest possible proactive thing she could imagine, fading into a night of desperation. More softly now, “three, three, three.”

It’s All in the Numbers

Sara fell asleep with joy written all over her face. She felt in her bones, and for the first time in, well, maybe years, she awakened with budding enthusiasm for a new day.

“Finally!” She threw off the covers, stood naked in her bedroom window, exclaiming it to the world. “I woke up!” Something really subtle had happened the day before, yet the resulting shift in her deepest sense of herself was dramatic.

Five years before, her mentor Serge had mentioned a key to her, something she needed to find before she could unlock the power of her destiny.

“There’s a hidden key someplace; your own key, hidden very well before you were born. You not only hid it well, you encoded its location in something very simple. So simple, you’ll laugh aloud when you figure it out because it was always right in front of your face.” He laughed in amusement and never called again.

It had been almost 5 years since she’d spoken to him.

About a month ago Sara had a faint glimmer of memory—a baby star of truth in her mind that led her down what she thought was an ego path. In fact, as she sat her computer each day looking up meanings and symbology for the Triple Goddess, she was faintly ashamed at how she might have come to this conclusion so she stopped looking. It took another few weeks to get back to the task because she honestly figured it was all born from insecurity and self-loathing, a need for some outer reflection that she was okay.

“It was true,” she thought to herself. “I was right, it was born out of neediness and feeling unsupported. “I was searching for a reason to like myself, yet in the long run it didn’t matter why. All that matters is finding the links that lead me to my own personal key!” She was light and joyous, flitting around like a hummingbird.

The key was hidden in her birthdate numerology: 3-3-3. There were only 18, maybe 20 possibilities for three three’s. People born with that combination of numbers still would have to have been born after 1900. Before that, they would already be dead.

It was the sign of the Ascended Masters.

Copyright 2012 The Energetic Connection

Agreements

It was time.

Sara was both elated and fully spent after months of moving energy, shifting out of the old morphogenic field, the one she’d occupied with all her old friends.  She broke the agreements they’d made, just like they’d all said they would, long ago, in another world.

And because of that preparation, she could access the incredible golden light of the angelic realms more frequently now, whereas in the past, she’d only known, or maybe she’d always just pretended they were there.

Today she was both celebrating and testing the waters by taking a great chance going to lunch with someone still tied to that past. She’d be brushing up against the edge of that old territory with a friend who wasn’t really part of the destiny she’d collided with back in the winter months, yet it was someone who’d been pulled into the surging currents along the periphery of that energy field a few years back. Hovering in the outer rings all this time, the woman had only recently begun to navigate the maelstrom of its center.

Tables now fully turned, it was a strange set of circumstances at best. Sara was the outcast and this woman was in her place, with her old friends, taking up the space in her old field of influence. It was like meeting the new girlfriend of an ex-husband.

And even though Sara wanted nothing to do with that old group, she leaped out of the car, practically running to the restaurant door, enthusiastic about her lunch with Teresa. It had been three months since their last meeting, back when everything was still ripe and painfully acute.

Smiling, she scanned the restaurant, her energy field searching for that friendly signal or a vibration she remembered. “Where is she?” Nothing felt familiar, none of the old bright-eyed energy wafted through the air to meet her today. “Oh, there she is,” Sara’s hand went up immediately to wave hello when saw the face.

There, in the back corner was Teresa, standing up slowly, avoiding eye contact as she shuffled forward in flip-flops and a baggy old sun dress. As she approached, Sara noticed there was no make-up, not even a hint of mascara. Teresa’s posture was saggy and her sun-tanned skin looked wrinkled well beyond her 40 years.

She could feel the others’ presence hiding within Teresa. They were in her words and the tone of her voice, her mannerisms and the masculine way she held herself, and mostly in her lack of receptivity. There was a coldness in her eyes, maybe a deadness; at the very least her eyes were vacant and hard.

Later that same day, Sara glided into the underworld where she met her guides. Wordlessly, the instruction came through loud and clear.

“Go to the place where it all began, “ they said it in unison. “Speak from your soul to theirs. Break the agreements once again and remind them of their oaths to the Creators. You are to be alone now, learning to embrace your essence and your power within. They are three, because you are three and you always have been three.” It was like a song or a chant as the tones of their voices harmonized the information without words.  Three guides, three old friends, three of Sara. “The missing piece can be found in your commitment to the triple Goddess.

“She is gestating inside you, yet to be born.”

 

Copyright 2012 The Energetic Connection