A beautiful morning in the ‘Burg. It is cool. A humming bird buzzed behind my head on my porch and the yellow finches are on the sunflowers at the back of my yard. I have been to a meeting of minds with my soul friends and am home again digesting some of what happened. I am travelling soon and I was asked about my upcoming journey to Morocco. We shared our news and I decided to talk about my visit to the Golden Temple in Amritsar November 2016. I spoke of how I travelled up the stairs, said my sincere prayers on each of the three floors, gave my small change, bowed my forehead to the floor, was shoeless, and came out on top only to find myself “bawling my head off.” It just over came me, much the same way as when my mother’s coffin was brought into her home and I got up to greet her dead body. I was uncontrolledly loud and noisy in my Mom’s case.
Today’s meeting and conversation brought back the puzzle of these times. What just happened? Did I fall into another dimension? Was I crying for my mother in her case. But this does not explain why I cried at Amritsar. Perhaps I had a tumultuous past life connected to that place. It is on the far side of India, near the Pakistan boarder. In many ways it is very strange that I ended up there, and weeping on top of the temple.
I thought of the fact that I got in touch with myself on a very deep level without much explanation other than I was meant to have this experience. It was heart opening for me, falling into the dimension of love.
The piece of the puzzle that came together for me today is that one person, in response to my openness about crying decided to share a time when she wept as I wept. She was working with the story in the bible of the Good Samaritan. As she worked she found herself identifying with the poor beggar in the ditch. She found herself crying uncontrollably in her case also.
These stories from Lord Jesus are stories of our inner selves. We leave behind that beggar in the ditch, we ignore the one that loots us. There is a profound weeping from a part of ourselves, that we have abandoned parts of ourselves, never to go back and pick them up. All the characters in the story are parts of us. We walk by and ignore the robbed and looted part of ourselves.
These are the abused parts, from childhood, that are put away in the cabinets and attics of our lives and ignored. The beggar is that part of ourselves that cannot, that will not be part of what we insist is our lives. We cannot get those concrete looters from our childhoods to justice, but we can take care of our beggar. We can tackle the looters in the here and now that would ignore our past trauma.
We are the beggars, and we are the healers of ourselves. We are the one who is willing to spend money on the beggared part of ourselves. We are the healer that comes back to see how our inner beggar is doing and make sure he/she is getting well and can join with the rest of us and get on with life. Otherwise the trauma stays with us.
So looking at the experiences of weeping for no reason, I am brought around to the fact that I realized at some level, when my mother’s body was brought home that her time of loving, my time of loving her in an earthly tangible way was over. I was also seeing then that life is short, and I may have about thirty years left(less now) to make this move into love. Will I let the robber and looter and the one violent toward the beautiful spirit have its way with my energies? I just have to talk all the time to the healer, the Christ energies in me. I cannot let this looting go on; to make sure the time here is not wasted. If I take care of this, there is no need to worry anything else.
This upwelling of the tears from deep down corresponds with a realization on a soul level that the only reason we are here is to love. We have to side with the beggar within, and to redeem those looting thieving parts through the help of the Christ, love energies within. We will reclaim that poor part of us looted and left in pieces in the ditch. In revelations it speaks of the two who are left for dead in the streets. The looters are those parts of us who go around congratulating ourselves, giving presents to ourselves, when we stomp on that part, that soul and make it a beggar.
It is a big commitment to do inner work, to corral that shadow part, that looter and thief of all that is worthy in us. Looking at our dreams it like looking at the parable of our own life. The dreams will be particular to us, individualized so we can see how to look forward and backwards at the same time, claim a life well lived. We will see how to awaken that inner one asleep in the tent. We will realize that it is better to awaken that part of us asleep on the bed than to have the bed well make. It is an act of love in the real sense to heal our selves.
I am not trying to drag you into dream work kicking and screaming. Only come because it is soul work you want to do, preferably with a passion. I can help with dismantling all that is stored in your attic of yourself. Some treasures to be claimed and some dusting out to be done as you do your work. Like a mother hen keeping an eye on her chickens, you can keep an eye on your dreams. It will keep you busy for the rest of your life but it is work well done and you end up leaving the hospital of your life and walking out hand and hand with your savior, your own good Samaritan and into the House of Love wielding the banner of conscious love, your ticket to ride. Love from Rose.