Pick-Up Sticks: Parables from Many Dimensions

Paraphrased From the Bible:

A teacher is walking through the desert, his students all around him. Suddenly, a horse jumps  gallantly off a nearby outcropping onto the path in front of the group. The man sitting astride is enthusiastic to find the teacher. “You must come teacher. Your friend is dying!” The teacher keeps walking. “Teacher, the family said you are a friend and their brother needs help. He is dying!” The teacher looks up at the man on the horse with gratitude for the information. His students are baffled by his non-challance, gossiping amongst themselves, yet the teacher continues to walk in the same direction away from his friend. Later, about three days later to be almost exact, the teacher arrives at his friend’s tomb and begins to invoke the divine, bringing him back to life in front of a large group of people.

Paraphrased From “She, Understanding Feminine Psychology,” part of the triad: “He,” “She” & “We,” by Robert A. Johnson.

A woman on her last legs to enlightenment crosses paths with a bent and tired old man carrying a bundle of wood on his back. She watches as the man loses his balance, all the wood falling to the ground. It’s her choice, her final test, whether to stay and help him pick up the wood or to walk on.

Taken From Life:

A mentor asks a student to live in her studio while they train together. The student uses all the mentor’s supplies and resources, though she has enough of her own untapped resources to share with the mentor. The student doesn’t know that she and her mentor are actually equals in this way, though the mentor sees the truth. This is the only real difference between the student and the mentor.

One day, after the student’s resources were as fully cultivated in this environment as they ever would be, the mentor asks the student to leave, giving the student very short notice. The student can’t believe it. “I love it here,” she cries out. “I don’t want to leave; this is my home now!” The mentor has no sympathy and pretends not to care. “You aren’t the right person to continue here. I am looking for someone who can be truly present in this place,” the mentor replies. Of course this angers the student and she stomps off, never to look back; well almost never. The student becomes very successful and soon surpasses the mentor, though she is grateful and humble.

Taken From Life:

A student was happily living her life after a trip to see family for one month. One day after she’d returned to her home, she received a call about her father being ill in the hospital. She was in communication with each member of her family, every day. No matter how many times she contacted them about the status of her father, no one returned her calls.

Extended family and long-time family friends started calling to ask her what was going on and why she wasn’t “home” with her father.  In fact, two of the women in her brother’s family, who lived down the street from her parents, called ranting about a lack of communication and wanted the student to make it better for them. 

One of the women raged at the student, “It’s your job! You should be here to take care of your mother while your father is ill. Your brother is stressed and now I have to handle all this for you!”

“What can I possibly do,” the student asked. “I can’t get any more information than you and I live 1500 miles away.”

Fear and guilt immediately pulsed through her body and her mind started roiling. Reactively she wondered, “should I go back and do my job?” This was her typical response and normally she would have fallen into the obligation she’d carried her whole life.

This time, she did not act. Instead, she waited for the emotions to pass, eventually sending a message to the two women. ”I no longer pick up sticks!”

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Faery Singers

Singer of Initiation

Last night I was awakened in the wee hours, most likely by the wee people!

As I lay there trying to find some physical comfort in an otherwise rather twitchy hour, I closed my eyes, looking behind the veils to breathe and practice opening my inner eye.

It’s not a new practice, it’s just that last night something different sort of, well…happened. Sometimes I see a lot of orange, other times it appears to be outlines of people and their faces, and frequently I see the Blue Pearl.

Not so last night. And even though I’ve seen this particular phenomenon before, I’ve never heard the singing that accompanied the visual brilliance. Last night was a first for that.

So many bright little lights, swirling wisps of pink, white and golden light, in all shapes and sizes–moving this way, dancing that way. I looked and looked, and at one point one of the faeries transmitted this to me:

We are the Singers! 

Unity, Ekstasis, Guardian of the Gate

If it hadn’t been so late, no, I mean so early…if it hadn’t been dark and if I’d wanted to come out of that brilliant space, I might have consulted Brian Froud’s, “The Faeries’ Oracle.”  I knew there was a section on the Singers of the Realms.

According to The Faeries’ Oracle, the Singers have many names: angels, devas, gods, dakinis…I can think of a few more too.

Faery Singer of Intuition

“And they sing the song of the underlying universe,” according to their Oracle anyway.

I have to say, this felt so true last night when I was beyond those veils, inside myself, in my inner world. It felt as if they were knitting me together in some way.

But that’s just me, I always feel like I’m being dismantled and taped back together, especially in the wee hours of the night. It’s an inner journey, personal transformation kind of thing; a shamanistic initiation of sorts in which one is shunned, dismembered and near death. Luckily for us, me in this instance, when the Faeries are the root of it, it can be a wondrous, even charming journey. Although when the Challengers are out in force, it’s a very shadowy experience, indeed.

You see, there are five different Faery clans: The Singers, The Sidhe, Faery Guides & Guardians, The Help-Line Troupe and The Faery Challengers. They all have different types of jobs and various vibrations, and depending on what kind of help our Earth and we humans might need will determine what clan makes its way into the land of potentially “seen.”

Yes, I did say potentially. Not everyone sees them, though I’m pretty sure everyone senses them on some level. If you don’t sense them, I think you just don’t know you do, or maybe you’re really dense! I don’t know, you’ll have to reflect on that for yourself.

I’ll bet the Faeries can help you with that!

The Faeries have a lot to say right now, and in this particular time on Earth we had better listen. FYI, I’m sure you can get a more intellectual book about Faery and study a much more intense vein of Faery wisdom, but it might not be as much fun.

G. Hobyah a Faery Challenger

Singers are the angels, the Sidhe are mediators of the singer energies, Faery Guides & Guardians are in direct relationship with we humans and our creative gifts, the Help-Line Troupe are the elementals, and the Faery Challengers help us with our shadow work: bringing it into the light, helping us confront our fears, denials, traumas and bad behaviors.

Pretty important role they play, isn’t it? Yes, actually all of them are critically important to the balance of the Earth and Cosmos and the humans in between.

Get the book. Get it now! It’s been around a while.

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.”

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

Falling

Both the sea and sky roiled in anger as Sara watched through the window from her seat above the cliff.

She was a passenger in her own car and the symbolism really pissed her off.

“What’s wrong with me? Why do I continue to choose men who abuse me? Why can’t I just stand up, tell the truth and walk away?” She knew the answer, yet wasn’t ready to face it.

This lookout was the place they’d made love and as well, the place where war had broken out repetitively.

Sometime in the middle of their relationship, one of his ex-girlfriends came to Sara with a story about how Daniel had taken her on a romantic drive into the country one day. Unexpectedly he’d begun yelling and flailing at her, the car swerving towards a death crash with every swing of his arm. His profanities and accusations had sliced her to the bone before he’d finally spun the car around in a gravel turnout on some old unmarked highway and told her to get out. When she wouldn’t, he’d reached over, opened the door and pushed her onto the ground, speeding away.

Today, on the edge of the western sea, Sara sat motionless in the car as she always did during her visions, until she was rousted by a hot foreign energy breathing into her face.

“I just don’t get these visions of yours and honestly I don’t believe you even have them!” He turned toward her, his large frame hovering, his arms practically engulfing her after slapping both the dashboard and the head rest. She had no place to go, she couldn’t even turn fast enough to open the door and run.

And the only real safety she would ever have from Daniel and all the other men who came before him, was deep self-inquiry and fearless reflection about her past choices. The only real safety was to make the only choice she knew she needed to make.

Little did her conscious mind know that night, she would be awakened abruptly in the early morning hours by a swift kick to her low back. Little had she ever envisioned as a possibility, she would awaken a second time that morning, in the hospital, with the man who’d beaten her sitting by her side, holding her hand, crying into the stiff white hospital sheets.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012