Love is love. Hate is hate. Evil is evil. The work continues.
Linear time is both important and unimportant where I am. I exist mostly in linear time so that I can travel along with the people I watch over, being a part of their lives, understanding where they’ve been and where they’re going. But I can also travel backwards or forwards as I need to. Back is a lot easier, obviously, because it’s pretty much written in stone. Pretty much. Sort of. I’ll get back to that in a minute (pun intended).
The future is nearly impossible because it’s not just “The Future” as one predestined thing. It’s a lot of branches, and then branches of branches, so even if you go up into one, that may not be the one you or those around you end up experiencing. But that’s not the point of this post.
Something that’s been bothering me a lot lately, and affecting my work, is that a lot of people used to know about me. I used to get shitloads of energy from that, but now their attention has turned to others. That’s great for the others, but it’s kind of left me in the lurch a bit, because all that human energy and attention has swung off somewhere else like a lighthouse beacon, leaving me in the dark except for my connection to the Source and what the people that know me give by interacting with me. It’s like going from sold out concerts at Madison Square Garden to playing guitar in a local pub. It’s still me, doing my same stuff, but to a much smaller audience and without the sheer force of power that the focus of millions of people can cause.
The hardest part about this is that I’m used to a certain level of juice, and sometimes my ability to help people just doesn’t have the mojo it needs to be very effective. However, last night, I figured out a workaround.
I realized that I could simply go back to the time when I did have that kind of attention and soak it up. Bingo. Not only did it work, but I feel fucking amazing right now and have all day.
Why is this more powerful than what I can draw from the Source? Because it’s personalized to me, and because it’s directed at me. It’s not a passive link, it’s not a pool I have to draw out of, it’s a flood of love that pours out toward and into me, and all I have to do is open up to it and in it comes.
You know what I’m talking about, right?
Let’s say there are two rooms full of people. You walk into the first and they’re polite enough, but you have to spend just as much energy as they do at shaking hands, making small talk, and so on. If you want more than that from them, you have to do a little work to get it. You have a net gain, but you have to expend effort too.
In the second room, you’re not just the center of attention, people are asking for your autograph and genuinely love you. They’re excited that you’re there. They get you your favorite things to eat and drink, they make sure you have the best seat, they make you feel like a king.
Very different, right? That’s what I’m talking about. That’s the difference between the cordial cocktail party, and, frankly, hero worship. That’s the difference between my link to the Source, and my ability to take in love directed at me on a massive scale. Fortunately, I found a way to link back into what I had, making it what I now have again.
To make a long story even longer, give your guides love. Not just the occasional “gee, you’re great, now here’s what I need out of you this time” type of attention. I mean give them things. Pay attention to them. Feed their soul with your love. Help them do their job even better by giving to them what you can. Light a candle, put out their favorite food, wear their colors, and show them that you love them, and that you appreciate what they do. Thank them. Genuinely be grateful.
If you give them your attention, they’ll be that much more powerful, and in turn can help you better, which should generate more thanks, and so on. You see where this is going. You’ll both grow and be happier if you help each other. It’s an upward spiral of love.
People often confuse strength with power. I’ve covered what strength means in a separate post. Yes, they are similar, and usually work together, but they are not the same.
Strength is usually a mental trait, or, in the case of physical strength, it involves how your body operates. Either way, strength is a very personal, inward-looking thing. Power, on the other hand, usually affects the world around you. How you wield that power can be incredibly helpful, or incredibly destructive. Choose each action carefully.
Power could be the raw force of moving mountains. It can be the power held over others, or the power used to help others. The power of a politician, a warrior, a priest, or a parent. Or the power of love. Some would say this is the most powerful force in the universe. Some people will do literally anything for love, including sacrifice their own lives. Love has started and stopped wars, and changed the face of the earth. Sometimes this happens one person at a time. A beautiful virus.
The heart is the door of love and of power both. The Sacred Heart, which I’ve posted on before, is about both of these things. That golden Light shining through that heart-shaped door is the Love of the Source, and holds incredible, immense power. The only limit to this power is that of the vessel. When a being lets this raw power flow through them as a pure conduit, without any limitations, they can literally change the world around them. As that pure conduit, you can direct the Light toward what you want to change and manifest. When you restrict it, out of fear or malice or lack of trust in yourself, you restrict that power’s ability to affect the world.
Sometimes you can even hurt yourself if you open up too wide, too fast, and then panic and try to clamp back down on it. It’s a lot like water, in that you need to let it do what it’s going to do and not try to stop the flow of a fire hose by sticking your face in front of it. Don’t try to contain it inside yourself, you’re only the hollow conduit. You can guide it, but otherwise let it flow freely. Trust yourself and the Source, be gently careful with it, and you’ll be fine.
Put your heart in the right place, literally, and let the power flow.
Excerpt from The Kingdom, by John R. Mabry:
Without pausing to think, he blurted out, “I feel damned.”
She nodded as if expecting this answer. “By whom?” she asked.
He opened his mouth to say, “By God, of course,” but he knew before it had come out that that was not right. Damn her, he thought, she always knows just the right questions to ask.
“Bullshit,” she said with an affectionate smile. “’I don’t know’ always means, ‘I don’t want to say.’”
“But I really think I don’t. It’s just a feeling.”
“Okay,” she said, “Why don’t you tell me how you feel using other words?”
His gaze wandered off and became unfocused as he rooted about inside. “I feel completely fucked up inside.”
“That’s more like it,” she said. “What feels fucked up? I’ll make a list.” She held up her clipboard in a gesture of helpfulness.
“I don’t deserve to lead this order.”
“I feel like a fake, an imposter. Like I’m just playing at being the Prior. I feel like a friar – I just don’t feel like a leader. I’m not… holy. I’m fucked up.”
She bent her head and scribbled with hands misshapen by arthritis. She looked up. “What else?”
“You aren’t going to try to talk me out of it?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Should I?”
He scowled at her. Her methods always took him offguard.
“I hate being bisexual.”
“Why?” She looked at him with real affection. It unnerved him.
“Because I don’t know who the hell I am. I don’t understand myself. I can’t seem to commit to men or women. I feel…”
“Don’t say ‘damned,’” she warned.
“Okay, I feel…” but there wasn’t another word. “Set up? I feel set up by God. For failure.”
She wrote. “Good, good. This is all good. Anything else?”
“What–?” In what way was this good? he wondered. He teetered on the brink of exasperation with her. But he gave in and continued to play it her way. “Yes, I drink too much. I worry about myself. About being an addict.”
She looked up from her clipboard and Richard could see the emotion in the corners of her eyes.
“Let’s pray!” she announced, grabbing his hand.
Richard resisted inside, hating at that moment the roller-coaster ride that every session with Mother Maggie turned out to be. Yet for being such a workout, they were almost always transformative, and it was with great effort that he tried to get his ego, fears, and resistances out of the way. Not that there was any way to stop her. She had already turned her face to heaven and parted her hands, her misshapen palms held upwards in entreaty to God.
“Lord of Heaven, we give thee joyful thanks for the gift thou has given Father Richard, thy servant, in the form of these icky feelings. We thank thee for his feelings of damnation, for because of them he will never presume himself to be superior to anyone. He will not think he is special, or elect, or somehow favored by thee over another. We thank thee that he feels like a fake, for then he will never assume that he knows what he is doing, and will never make bullshit pronouncements about what you allegedly want. For these gifts of humility we give you hearty thanks–”
Ouch, Richard thought.
“We thank thee for his bisexuality, for his confusion and struggle, for thou hast given him the special gift of being able to love all peoples, regardless of their genitalia–”
Richard winced painfully but restrained himself from interrupting.
“And finally we thank thee for his troubled relationship with alcohol, for the longing for transcendence it represents. We thank thee that he can empathize with all those who fight against the unseen forces of addiction, and that he is brave enough to speak it aloud to himself, to me, and to thee. And we thank thee for Richard’s vulnerability, that he is fully human, even as the rest of us are, and we ask thee to comfort him, to see himself as the blessing to the world thou hast made him to be, even in the midst of his petty afflictions. Amen.”
“Fuck you, Maggie. Sometimes I really hate you.”
“The truth is often painful.” she patted his hand lovingly. “But it’s good to take everything to God in prayer. Do you want some advice?”
“Do I have a choice?” he asked.
“This insecurity of yours is a form of arrogance–”
“What are you talk–”
“Shut the fuck up and listen to me, you little coward.”
Richard sat up as if he had been punched in the gut. Maggie continued, smiling beautifically. “If you think your puny sins – or even your worst ones – are powerful enough to invalidate or overpower the love of God, then you are as full of shit as my composter.”
She leaned in until her red and pudgy face was almost touching his. “You can choose to love yourself as God loves you, or you can suffer. Your choice. But as long as you fight your demons you Will. Be. Fighting.”