Telling Time By The Tides

When all the clocks went away during lockdown, one of the pillars in my life gave way. First hours disappeared into the fissures this created, then I lost days and then weeks. Yesterday blended seamlessly with today which segued into tomorrow, each iteration essentially the same. Having lived for decades with it left Time a difficult habit to break.  

I do not know about you, but I have always felt time as a second skin. It was a treat to take it off on Sundays which became the leisure day. Like bank drafts at midnight, it reappeared at 12 a.m. when the ticking resumed. I stepped right into march to it. At that time, it synced so well with my system. From syncing to forcible extraction I went.

We all did what we had to do, right? I have no media to binge upon, but I fed well from the free book tables in town.

I changed the energy flow in the apartment one room at a time, moving furniture, exchanging curtains among rooms. I wrote pens dry. I talked to myself quietly until masking, when I picked up volume.

I named the cats frequenting my yard on an enviably purposeful schedule.

Music sustained me, as did reorganizing files drawers, boxes, closets…you must understand these are not chores for me. There are bits of both past and future slipped in between all of it. It was time for me to check the notes & chuck what would never make reality hum for me. New emerged as each old slipped away.

Journals filled. The constancy of doing dishes became my daily joust with universe.

Of the dreams I found in storage, many had powdered to dust, having been moved too many times to contrasting environs.

I learned to live less outwardly. it was not a matter of fear, but a kind of response to the energy. I showered by ten to get me off the computer, then deliberately dressed well so as not to have too many Pajama Days in a row.

I missed Time. I missed the guise of being somewhere by nine to open by ten. I missed the candle-sized fires of being almost late & crowing to myself for being the first to arrive

I carefully constructed Other Rituals: lunch became a production that extended all the way to dinner & once that was done, the day seemed ready to bed down.

When Time got locked down, it pooled onto the floor, settling into a runnel of current that moved me to where I am now. It’s a different place altogether. I continue to change as Time flickers from pre to post to present.

I am regrouping now in this different location. Oh, the outside hasn’t changed that much other than wearing my transition face; yet the interior landscape is thawing an Ice Age. A reality I had relied on before has emerged with the clarity I needed to notice it.

I walk towards it. I became an Ordained Minister yesterday. I named my church Sanctuary. I stated my purposes of leading others to prayer of their choosing as the bridge to the next space. I pledged to be a Servant to Earth – to put my heart into that service. In a way, it was a wedding ceremony, a renewal for me, it gives me permission to wield my Free Will as holy.

This is serious since Time could have taken me to so many places. This is where I let go of the decades of obedience to exercise newly-acquired skills.

This is where I put the exclamation point for now.

Amity or On Opening My Heart

Amity or On Opening My Heart

The Heart seeks amity in all. Heart understands Discord, comprehends Pretense. In the end, however, Heart desires amity in the practice of Doing No Harm.

When Heart energy is attacked by an event, by physical/emotional shock or trauma, the chi in the body sinks. News hits: We sink to our knees. It is harder to raise energy to prior levels. Some damage occurs which time may or not resolve (re-solve.)

Heart workarounds function long-term but no longer last through lifetimes. As our collective vibration rises, as Source makes Itself known to us, we rise to meet It, hopeful & eager.

We reveal & suffer Revelation in return.

When I observe my conversation, I find too many flawed clichés. Since the “lot of mankind” seems to be bipartisan struggle, the effort must be conscious to climb above this into … you guessed it … Forgiveness. Ours is a ladderlike ascension to our best selves, led enthusiastically by Higher Self. There are future me’s awaiting my arrival, allowing my spiritual immaturity space to grow, always listening for that deep beautiful breath of awakening, that inspiration, to signal a closer harmony with All-That-Is. They hold the door open, or at least prop it with a rock. We, like feral cats meowing at the door for sustenance, may one day enter Paradise by virtue of a single step.

I am told to move on in my life. I hear “Walk on, Carol” when I stop to check some exciting new activity which doesn’t serve my ascension by direct approach to Home. Maybe you hear these sweet, compelling voices as well? I’m simply one who passes the message.

By now, we’ve all heard the Heart has brain cells within. It’s not far out admission to extrapolate this to each organ in turn. After all, how many times have you relied on your gut brain over time?

Overtime. We’re in Spiritual Overtime. We play out scenes causing our energy to sink, our Hearts to hurt or be hurtful to others. When do you think this will end? I contend it will be gradual as we learn to hear what Heart thinks about it all. I know my Heart has a reality where thriving is all that matters along with how to continue bursting with Life!

I learn I must speak to my Heart each day & listen for reply. Often my Heart answers more quickly than my brain processes.

I know if I let my energy dip to liver, anger emerges. I allowed one such interaction recently & have listened to Heart going over it many times since.

My only resolution (re-solution) is scrambling into my Heart as fast as I can. Therefore I keep my own doors open, with gratitude for those I’ve been able to close.

Does this make me a better person? In a word: yes.