I haven't posted here in a couple of months...I ran out of words, for a minute, and have been dealing with caregiving things. Today, I can't help myself. I went to the beach, where the sun shone brightly and the surf was large and springtime-powerful, and called all angels. I will be doing that for a while.
Calling angels means emptying myself of the typical mind-gibberish while asking to be filled with what's real. I don't know how else to describe it...but when I am sincere, the answer is almost immediate. There comes a rush of space, the boundaries melt away, and magick returns to my fractal body. That means color, light, power. It means understanding that I have arrived, every second. It means no doubt, no search, no "but...". It means that little pieces of broken shell and burnt twigs are what make this universe so perfect; it means bird-screech and human-call come through as the music of the spheres. Wild strawberry blossoms among the dunes may as well be shining stars, green runners making new galaxies. Stepping over them, I feel pain in my ankle for a split second. I notice I am still not entirely recovered from the virus that ran through most of the family last week. It is brilliant, this pain, this weakness.
I am a constellation of living things, a universe in my own right, and I have no idea how this can even be.
Driving back, I listen to the pulse of the music, feel it gathering up my brain waves and making something new. Fresh, like April. The angels tell me they are exceptionally pleased with all the space. They encourage me to check in often. They can do anything! What I feel, all the way home, is the absolute fullness and perfection of each moment. Seems so trite--but we are accustomed to judging everything as Not Quite, and waiting for the better sound, image, color, a lack of static, the trash spill to be cleaned up, the daylight to change. Angels point out that it doesn't get any better, fuller, more perfect than this right here. The total suchness is like being topped off with love while swimming in love, having learned to inhale love as sustenance. It is almost too much to look at, to feel, and that is why we are afraid.
My human life wants to pull as many others into the deep as I can, as are willing to fall, even while the stuckness and fear are are all part of the scenery. I have given up wondering why. I have also given up feeling guilty over this particular desire. It seems as natural as gravity, to want to share, even while this experience is absolutely unique, unrepeatable and perhaps not at all similar to the fall of another universe.