The One Wound
There's only one wound.
It's a wound that shows up in an infinity of ways.
That's it.
That's the one wound that shows up in all the multitude of little ways: we believe ourselves to be separate and unworthy and unlovable and bad.
It happens suddenly.
It could be mom, dad, brother, sister, uncle/aunt/cousin, baby-sitter, neighbour, stranger... who knows. Someone did something that we interpreted as unloving separation and we believed it was true.
We made up a story about "us" or "them".
We made up a story about worth and value, love and deserving.
Then we used that original wound to prove our story to ourselves over and over and over again.
We made up a story and then chose to see the world through he filter of that story.
Like that story was the TRUTH.
Original sin doesn't exist as it’s handed out by Christianity... but if there was an original mistake, it's this one, for everybody.
All of the World is Kinfolk
When we were children, the whole of the world was made up of kinfolk. All the world IS kin, but we knew it and lived it as children in the most basic, obvious way possible.
As a child, all people that enter our life fit into the limited family relationships that we knoww and understand.
Everyone was a mother, or a father, a sister or a brother.
Those were the only categories of relationship understanding we had as children.
All the friends and neighbours that were in my sphere as a child were mothers and fathers or sisters and brothers. The only difference was who's mother and father or who's sister and brother and how often they were in my life.
I remember watching the moment of recognition dawn on my niece and nephew’s faces when they understood that I was their Dad's sister, and their Gramma was their Dad's mom.
Before, we were family; "Auntie" and "Gramma" - but they didn't know what those words meant. Now we were mother and sister to their Dad! I think this is part of the process that moves parents from the realm of ‘god-hood’ down to earth as human; a child’s understanding that their parents come from a family of origin similar to their own and are not in fact perfected, all-knowing creators of the heaven and earth.
Everything is love & ok to a child.
A child’s easy ability to forgive is a miracle. A small child can be hurt or scared, feel the feelings, be comforted and move on without holding a grudge or even holding on to the memory of the hurt.
According to Dr. Gabor Maté, our brains are wired for warm reception. Any deviation to warm reception is perceived by the brain as trauma and a threat to safety.
Children don't make up stories around hurt & manufacture meaning about being alive and being valuable... until we do. We don’t, until we do. We lose that easy safety when we start believing our own bullshit.
Sealing all the Cracks in the Wholiness
Julian Gough has been taken me on an emotional ride lately. He's an Irish writer and musician who had me blubbering over the End Poem he wrote for Minecraft.
He's also got a project going on Substack, called The Egg and The Rock, which will eventually become a book. Loosely, the topic is how science and math have lost the plot, because feelings and living beings are important and we need to find our way back to meaning and heart and wholiness... so pretty much right in my wheelhouse.
I read Julian's article about writing the End Poem and “what happened”. Then I read the End Poem, and I had a MOMENT.
I blubbered. Like, a big ol' trauma-grief cry.
It was a one-two-punch for me because I was crying my grief over my false belief that I wasn't loved, but it was also a grief for all the multitude of times I haven't shared my love for the world OR shared my belief in a world that is loving and kind.
I grieved for my longing to have the beauty and loving kindness of the world mirrored to me, and I grieved the deep, deep sorrow for not mirroring loving kindness to the world.
I grieved for how I have believed myself to be.
How we see the world is how we see ourselves and I have been dismissive and indifferent to my deep soul need to be in consistency with wholiness.
I keep forgetting that I don't perceive and participate in a loving creation unless I am giving that loving creation to myself and the world.
Perception is first. What we need is what we need to give.
It's a beautiful world but...
It's a kind world but...
It's a loving world but...
Jane says 'but' is short for Bullshit Upstaging Truth'. “But” erases everything that comes before it. The way to live in our beautiful reality is to substitute 'and'.
It's a beautiful world and there is pain.
It's a kind world and there is cruelty.
It's a loving world and there is sorrow.
This is the great embrace.
The holding of opposing beliefs as truth at the same time.
We cannot change the world - we can only change the way we see it.
What we need is what we must give.
I need absolutely to share with the world my belief and participation in a loving, inclusive, kind universe.
It's all right here, there is no where else.
There is no past - the past exists only as memory. There is no future, the future hasn't been decided yet. The only thing that actually exists is right here, right now.
Fite Fuaite
Fite Fuaite (FI-ta FWOO-ta) is Irish and means interwovenness. It describes the of the world of spirit and the world of clay as created together, penetrating one another, inseparable and bound together.
Fite means woven. Fuaite is sewn. Existence is woven and stitched together, made of both Spirit and clay.
This the purpose of what I do at the Church of Beloved Presence. A reminder of the beauty and love that is, a reminder of the beauty and love that you are and that is all around us.
I remind you so that I can remind myself.
I am a Beloved Presence to you as we learn to be a Beloved Presence to ourselves and each other on the Earth.
Thank you for being the mirror that reminds me of who I am.
Part 3 of my collaboration with Śivani. We talk Galactic citizenship, how the new stuff to us is old ‘always-been-here’ stuff, the Earth coming into trust again with human beings, mediumship, transmission of wisdom and proclaiming our love for the Earth often, loudly and joyously.