Deeper Than That

 

 

Twin Flame Love Journey

6 hrs ·

Deeper than Love at First sight.
THE SOUL CONNECTION IS DEEPER THAN THE EYES MAY SEE AND PERCEIVE. It is what is seen beyond the eyes that triggers our remembrance. This remembrance comes in different forms throughout lifetimes which we’ve experienced as soul on our soul’s journey. You see, it isn’t simply our bodies that are on this journey, it’s most certainly our soul’s initiation which prompted our formation and our willingness to take on human form in order to fulfill some mission we signed up for. While we may not remember the mission initially, our souls most certainly do. Which is why many times as we travel though life, we may not understand the meaning for certain occurrences, yet in retrospect we learn the meaning of the experience. So what we feel, and what we perceive are usually introductions for experiences which have yet to materialize and the meaning usually involves a much broader scope because it is heavenly. In this way there is no such thing as failure, only transcendence, only the implementation of butterfly affects which will most certainly have their way further than the eyes may see because they are steadily fueled through and by soul’s intent.
THE SOUL CONNECTION IS LOVE. What is Love? It is the very energy which ensured our safe entry on to this earth plane. It is the energy that we recognize through connection. It is consistent, patient and steadfast. It gives our minds the ability to dream and our souls the urge to travel. It brings true meaning to our lives. And so, as we walk in Love, there are doors which continuously open for the advancement of Divine mission. I’ve often heard that God will not put on us more than we can bare; it’s often resonated as truth. For as soul, we are resilient, we are open; we want to know and stay in the knowing of God through expansion as triggered through our ascension process.
THE TWIN FLAME CONNECTION IS DEEPER THAN THE EYES MAY SEE OR PERCEIVE. It is that of Love. It is a mission involving dualism. Where masculine and feminine are defined as one soul with counterbalancing present within each and every soul in human form. The duality aspect from a Twin Flame perspective is that I feel my masculine aspect was masterfully placed within the psyche as a trigger for soul remembrance. As the masculine human form makes entrance into the feminine’s sacred space, it’s merely a subtle reminder or final snippet in a puzzle which consists of mutuality. The same may be said for the feminine aspect. He recognizes the divine feminine counterpart through the counterbalancing feminine aspect within the strength of his own masculinity. And so this phenomenon is as real and as sacred as the sun rising each day, and is as natural as the sun set as well. You see, all of this is being recorded, this whole journey, and I’m beginning to learn that as we transform in this life, the opportunity to create and co-create the journey of our choice remains the same. What we decide to create will remain a conscious decision until the very day we leave this plane. And so, may all we do align with the soul’s mission, in understanding that we are more than this skin, this hair or these eyes. While I do feel that these eyes are most certainly the windows to the soul. I can literally hear what isn’t said through them at times…~ Shameika Pearson

the Tyger's jaws

the Tyger's jaws (temporary title)

What does it take to not be a lemming in the world?
To be free to be yourself?
To feel safe to speak, to see, to hear....
What does it take to inspire yourself?
Outside of parameters, systems, rules, myths, laws of attraction, protocols,
And all the rest of it?
What does it take to remember who you are?
That young girl who went to Canada with misty eyes full of hope?
They opened an entire world to her,
Full of Romanticism, analysis, kindred spirits,
Potential, never really actualised.
North America, for all its faults, has an ever expanding energy.
You go there, you feel liberated, like the eagle.
Nothing to do with amendments, laws, spying.
Just Earth. Mountains. From sea to shining sea.
A yawning canyon that swallows up whole the entire calm sky.
A drawl that loosens the inhibitions.
Fantasies perhaps.
Yet, pioneering in a sense.

I always think I've understood,
I've caught on to the elusive fabric of reality.
An eighth energy centre, sparkling clean.
They say I live outside my body too much.

I can't seem to paint upon this canvas,
nothing meaningful,
Droplets, squiggles, a half hearted pear.

I do not remember agreeing to this,
nor do I understand how I could be so blind and closed up, walled in.

Yet, here I am, this husk of a woman,
Breathing before you
Disoriented.

I have forgotten all.

"Where are my soul friends?
Where is the flint to ignite my fire?"
She asks forlornly.

Who are those who truly understand? Hopes, dreams, passion... ou-etes vous?

Sometimes, we agree to things,
To delay things.
To abstain.

To attain vertical height and levitation,
To do acrobatics in the higher realms,
at the risk of any horizontal progress at all.

We forget that both are possible,
And that self punishment and self denial,
and this unbearable sense of pining for that which has been lost,
Or for that which will is not to be.

Is futile.

Futility in existence...
And yet,
Lilacs bloom every spring.

And she remembers how Chicken Soup for The Teenage Soul
saved her life. 
Continuously revived her,
After countless mini deaths.

The ones who artfully sliced her heart,
then mended it with cookies, milk and
a book for teenagers going through angst.

Poetically messy and artful in decimation.

When do we stop regenerating as lemmings,
and start Being fearless individuals,
unswayed by energies and stardust pelting down upon the earth,
unceasingly, cutting up into ribbons,
then carefully piecing us all back,
raw, bloodless,
Real?

Time and space do not exist.
The cycle is endless.

First, there was the Word.
And then,
Chaos reigned.

Such is the pattern.
There is measured kindness melted into
the Tyger's jaws.

~ Sukaina Juma, 6th February 2014

Songs Of Innocence and Of Experience

Songs of Innocence and of Experience
by Sukaina Juma
13 April 2012


Introduction (William Blake)

Hear the voice of the Bard!
Who Present, Past, & Future sees;
Whose ears have heard
The Holy Word
That walk'd among the ancient trees,
Calling the lapsed Soul,
And weeping in the evening dew;
That might controll
The starry pole,
And fallen, fallen light renew!
"O Earth, O Earth, return!
Arise from out the dewy grass;
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the slumberous mass.
"Turn away no more;
Why wilt thou turn away?
The starry floor,
The wat'ry shore,
Is giv'n thee till the break of day.''

 

***

"Writing is my passion. But..."

"... but you haven't found a way to earn money from it. Whenever you feel inspired to write, just write. Don't worry about the fact you should, logically, be doing something more practical, like looking for jobs."

***

Day and Night

The television flickers shut. I lay my weary body onto the bare floor. Stare out into the dusk. You know you're in trouble when you switch on the telly and watch Coronation Street, then switch over and start watching Eastenders.

Another day, another night.

The twenty-eighth year ends. I know within my heart that... at least I am not where I used to be. I hang onto that thought.

I have some of that clarity back, although I know it keeps leaving me for long, inexplicable periods of time.

Why would you do that, God?

***

Don't Leave Home

Tonight, this feels as though it is her home. It used to be her home. It isn't any longer. Neither is anywhere else...

The memories have been melted and chased away... the little six year old girl no longer peers at her, trembling, from underneath the sofa. She is around... not yet completely at peace.

She still lives within her, staining the wallpaper with her handprints.

She hides when he comes home. She waits until he leaves before she leaves her bedroom. Different country, same survival strategy.

Yet, this is where she chooses to stay. Year in, year out.

London used to haunt her dreams. She would walk the streets in the snow. Walk aimlessly down roads and pass many terraced houses.

Sometimes the sun would shine upon the tree-lined avenues. She was possibly walking alone. Except when she was not. Her soul did this. Granting her hope that, in spite of all, she would return, the prodigal daughter.

And she walked the same streets when physically here. Parts of St. John's Wood reminded her of having been there before, as did the tiny passages along the Embankment and Victoria.

She walked past a place from her dreams, it ended up being the road on the other side of her old primary school.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. And that was it. No epiphanies. Just a simple, "Yes, I dreamt of this" and the mystique was no more.

***

She walked the streets today. She walked twice the length of the Common. She passed the house of her second mother from when she was three, entrance now only by invitation.

Self invitation.

She could no longer stand the solitude and asked for shelter. She silently blessed them and asked for guidance as to how to live a "functional" family life the way they did.

The alien needs to be retaught, retrained into the ways of the world.

Her warrior planet, Mars, had retreated for a few months.

Artemis had lost her footing. Her arrows missed their marks, piercing and wounding those she was charged to protect.

She cannot feel her fingertips.

Lips are still parched.

The pavements are just pavements. Not hers, never hers. But at least she stands tall on them now.

They still do not make way for her. It must be her impregnable invisibility cloak.

***

London (William Blake)

I wander thro' each charter'd street,

Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,

And mark in every face I meet

Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every Man,

In every Infant's cry of fear,

In every voice, in every ban,

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

How the Chimney-sweepers cry

Every black'ning Church appalls;

And the hapless Soldier's sigh

Runs in blood down Palace walls.

But most thro' midnight streets I hear

How the youthful Harlot's curse

Blasts the new born Infant's tear,

And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.

***

Wake Me Up Before You Go Go

They tell her she is safe, loved, protected.

They look with harsh eyes, not really human and say,

"You need to wake up! Wake up! You've lived your entire life disassociated, you can change it. It need not continue that way... you are avoiding living the truth, you continue to avoid becoming your authentic self! You're just not bothered... you will need to make a choice soon.

...WAKE UP!"

She doesn't understand. Obviously.

The sleeping have no clue what it means to be awake.

Which annoys those who are, who can see.

Of course, it also annoys the one who is asleep, who is desperately doing her best to wake up. But she's not only responsible for herself, she's fighting a crusade for the entire lineage, the entire line of souls afore and aft... at least, they tell her so.

She's clearing and healing for them all.

"When I asked my uterus why it was there, I'm apparently carrying the rage, fury, anger, resentment, vengefulness and frustration of millions of women who have been cheated, abused and clamped down upon, humiliated. Including the experiences of my mother... it started when the second husband was messing her about. Left her cold."

She wears glasses to hide the truth. She can't hear that well, either.

As for feeling anything...

***

Rogue

She is Rogue. The one who poisons, harms, destroys and annihilates upon being touched or touching. The one who has been invisible for so long, people just bump into her in the street - still.

The only one who finds herself in the places where they gather and can clearly understand that she's only there because of Divine plan, not because she is needed or wanted there.

And so they do exactly what she fears: they do not care. They are not present. They do not touch her.

Untouchable.

How she aches to be touched, caressed, loved poured into the heart from the Source. She knows she carries none of it within.

No one can be who she has been or continues to revert to being if they could truly love, accept and give of themselves freely and without a second thought.

She holds the gathers of her cloak close, shield upon sheath...

She still chooses to manifest that which she manifests.

Vacancies. No contenders. Regurgitated conversations, places, faces, situations.

Screaming unto the crowd.... which only sees itself and gives off theories, philosophies, personal anecdotes that she has surpassed long ago. And she cannot tell them this.

How can the sleeping know that they are asleep?

How can the stirring know how to be awake, when they've only known slumber until a year afore?

She feels.... quicksand... trick mirrors. Apparent progress, falling back, stagnancy... what is this path?

***



Treading water, so as not to drown - she remains where she is.

The others swim, glide, across the seas of fortune...

And all of it is okay.

"You don't have to wake up... no.... you can remain as you are."

They pretend. It makes her skin crawl.

She needs an upgrade in her entourage and her support system. The old system no longer works, Lord.

***

Notorious

Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.

~ Rumi

She cannot sell these writings. She is no Virginia Woolf, no Sylvia Plath. Well, even if she did what they did, she's still not white enough.

The world no longer works the way it used to.

No amount of stones in her pockets can save her reputation.

The image of tortured genius no longer appeals to the masses. They all want high vibrating literature. Ushering in the New Era. Anything vibrating at a frequency lower than Love need not apply.

The amount they spit in her face fascinates her.

Random strangers are regaled with tales of her doings when she was the tortured, wretched, dead one.

She buried those echoes of herself today - 23, 24, 25, 26, 27...

***

Zombie

They appeared to her as pallid, crippled, bleeding, malformed foetuses.

Each of them wailed and screamed: Why did you do this to us? Why did you kill us? Why did you choose this?

Why are you STILL killing us, torturing us, making us suffer?

She was sobbing loudly: I don't KNOW! I'm sorry, I don't know why I did it! I don't know why I'm still doing it!

Ho'ponopono is muttered.

The heart releases new waves of grief.

Come into present time... be who I am now. I am not that any longer. I can think. I feel the earth under the soles of my feet. I giggle, I literally laugh out loud and can shift the sadness. It dissipates.

Please heal me, Raphael. Make. Me. Whole.

This no longer resonates. What still keeps me chained?

I gave them all up... every single one I couldn't be my true self with... without a fuss, they left, I left. I asked them to treat me in a manner that was full of dignity and respect. They couldn't, so they left.

How could they but leave?

The shards of all my mirrors of horror splice my face into ribbons.

 ***

Scars in their eyes

"Can they not see?"

Canst you not see? It is safe to see the Truth.

No, she wears fog glasses around the eyes... she'd rather not see the truth. What is it, anyway? She's forgotten.

All of it... fallen from Grace, she is.

***

Losing My Religion

It started out so simply.

What did we start out as?

"I bear witness that there is nothing but that is Allah,
that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah and...
that Ali is the friend of Allah..."

***

"Call upon Ali,
he is the manifestor of miracles,
All the hurt, pain and grief,
he helps to remove them.
By the greatness of Allah,
by the apostleship of Muhammad
and by the authority of Ali...
help me, help me, help me!"

***

You are just as I want, so make me just as You want me to be...

***

Naive

This was her first mention of him in written words. The first time she had created poetry for a man. This was one of the many she actually did not send him later on.

Small mercies.

Not quite so naive, after all.

12 September 2010

Hello, you!

I want you to know my entire Soul, my entire being. 

I want my smile to be imprinted in your memoire for eternity.

And yet.

I seek the best from God.

And it seems that there's a flaw in the system.

I knew it was too easy to be true. The first time, with you ticking almost all the boxes?

Cosmic playthings, we are. And He's laughing at our ignorance. Yet not ready to show His cards.

Eh, ben. Quoi faire?

Je lache tous les attachements à la mémoire et l'idéal de toi.

Que sera, sera.

***

 
In Transition


" ...it is hard for me to see your beautiful soul as anything other than that....beautiful and in transition. You will work it out. You are strong and know fully what you are up to on a being level. Love you honey x"


Pure Shores

Sand. She is covered in sand. She lies in complete stillness, cocooned into the warm, pulsating womb of Gaia. Her limbs are supine, she does not break free.

Incubation must follow its due course.

She is one with the Earth.

She is being reborn. Again. Archangels Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Haniel, Chamuel, Uriel and Zadkiel are the midwives.

The ocean whispers her name, calling her to baptise herself in its sparkling, redemptive waves - to wash herself of herself.

To free herself from herself.

The sound of the ocean haunts her in her dreams, in her quiet moments.

Come home, dearest mer-maiden, come...

Moisten and replenish yourself from the dryness of life, heal the cracked lines in your wizened visage... 

Release your bondage, exchange your weary human legs and grow back your glorious tail.

Discard all your clothing, become truly vulnerable and succumb your entire being to the temptress that is I, the Ocean.

Surrender to my ravishing you in entirety: mind, heart, body and soul.

Allow my salt to be the balm to your wounds. Heal thyself in my arms.

Penetrate... 

...and allow yourself to be penetrated... to your absolute core.



***

She never really had had an affinity with the ocean before. Interesting how things shift.

Like the sands.

But now, as she walks the London pavement, she feels the white grains of Mauritanian sand trickle through her toes. Grounding her in a most delightful way. Exfoliating the calloused soles to reveal the soft, tender flesh that is her true skin.

The left foot finally tingles with the life force. She is slowly agreeing to come out of the shadows.

***

They tell her to lighten up. To smile and laugh more often.

To live her life.

"I had to re-do my intentions. In a nutshell, my intention is to live my life. As so-and so has told me to do."

Laughter.

It is ironic, when you only choose to live your life after someone else tells you that's what you need to do.

***

Flint
 
"Can you kill a mammoth, make a tent out of horse bones and light a fire from flint?"

"Yes i can kill a mammoth, build a tent from horse bones, light a fire from flint??? Huh... woman, all i need is a tarpan slither, a stick and dry grass... Hahahaha... We’ll go camping one day and I’ll show you..."
 
***

The most powerful force on earth is the human soul on fire! Without passion man (or woman) is a mere latent force and possibility, like the flint which awaits the shock to ignite.
~ Unknown

The power of our unconscious thoughts and words: she had no idea that, in actuality, she was the flint, and he was the shock that her Soul had patiently awaited to ignite her... into an all-engulfing, all-encompassing, devouring and self-annihilating fire.

Thank you, O beautiful Soul.

May you find it within you to allow Spirit to ignite your own soul and activate the artistic creativity within you that yearns to express itself. Nobody can write so beautifully, to glow so brightly even when they desperately try to hide it and then continue to delude themselves into believing that they have no creative talents to express.


Your Soul is urging you to become totally creative, focused and to share your vision in the world.  Allow this creativity to flow through you and share your ideas and visions to help and inspire others.

I love you... for the wonderful being of light you are. Up until now, I've only had that spark with you.

And if I am not the one to catalyse you into you being your authentic self, I give you to the Universe so that you can do it your way... under the protection of Allah. I love you that much. You matter this much to me.

You are doing a disservice to yourself, to me, to your loved ones, to the entire world by refusing to wake up, by refusing to unveil yourself, by breaking the contracts.

And that is okay.

Not really a disservice. Just making choices. Exercising your free will.

So much more she wanted to tell him, to tell them about him... and she chooses wisely this time around. Her ego was tired of playing about with his ego.

She's deflated that story, popped it for good. Burnt it into the ashes - yet again.

Unnecessary happenings. Another layer to shed.

Her heart contains the secrets...  

but melt away the memories that no longer serve you, little one. He is lifetimes, time frames and dimensions away.

He healed himself, became whole, grew up enough to give of himself, open up his heart and commit to his Eve.
 
You still need to learn. You still need to wake up. 


And that is okay.


Wake up. Wake up. Lève-toi, chère, lève-toi.


***
 
Nothing is truly hidden, or separate. He already knows it all. It is written on this page. The message has reached.

Everything is a choice.

Let go, child. Let go. Trust in the perfection of all things.

Have you truly woken yourself up, yet? Truly?

Wake yourself up from your illusive sleep. Become your authentic self. That is all that the world needs. You to be yourself. How can you be anything but who you truly are?

Find your passion, dissolve the fear, discover your Divine work in the world, and be amazed as I guide you to the unfolding of your heart's desires.

***

What is my own Soul Purpose?
 

To experience creative endeavour, divine inspiration and a greater understanding of the deeper truths of life through experiencing the challenges of everyday existence in society. The experience gained and use of your gifts and talents can help inspire others to connect with the intuitive wisdom of their souls. 

Occasionally the 'Soul Purpose' or more accurately 'Soul Destiny' can be indicative of a Soul who is ripe to become one with the divine on the inside and out. That is they will receive the realisation at the experiential level that all is one and the same.

How do I achieve it, Lord?

***

And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.


If someone isn't what others want them to be, the others become angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own.

Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity.

 People are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of.

~ Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

Be like melting snow - wash yourself of yourself.


Forget safety. Live where you fear to live. Destroy your reputation. Be notorious.

~ Rumi

***


In The Arms of The Angel

She is the rogue.

The one who loved her the most... the part of her soul... has set herself free. To be her authentic self. She soars.

She could see through the lies and deceit. The omission of truths.

The hatred and contempt.

And none of it matters. She let her go, to make her own journey.

A soul mate is an ongoing connection with another individual that the soul picks up again in various times and places over lifetimes. We are attracted to another person at a soul level not because that person is our unique complement, but because by being with that individual, we are somehow provided with an impetus to become whole ourselves.
~ Edgar Cayce

Perhaps they finally grew whole... and apart... after all those years.

She is the rogue who could not transcend into Love.

Perhaps in the next incarnation, my angel. I shall be in the arms of my angel, then. Perhaps I shall also be the sheltering arms for my angel, too. Of true love and assistance, not just fluff and words and lies.

I love you. In spite of myself.

You said as much about your love for me, my soul sister. What else is there, save for this thing called Love?


***

Dante's Prayer (Loreena McKennitt)

When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone

I did not believe because I could not see
Though you came to me in the night
When the dawn seemed forever lost
You showed me your love in the light of the stars

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Then the mountain rose before me
By the deep well of desire
From the fountain of forgiveness
Beyond the ice and fire

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

Though we share this humble path, alone
How fragile is the heart
Oh give these clay feet wings to fly
To touch the face of the stars

Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares

Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me
Please remember me


 ***

Written in the stars

This one she sent him. To explain the inexplicable, and make him understand. It didn't really explain much, in the end. Or people choose not to understand.

Sometimes, people choose to not read long letters written to the Beloved... 


15 September 2010

I leaked so much yesterday

The Emotional Alchemy book said it was good, the body releases that which needs to be released. I felt empty and unlovable for a bit, then the waterworks transformed into a soothing balm for the heart.

I couldn't sleep, for the most obvious of reasons, even after listening to an hour of Darren Hayes, Keane and Atif Aslam. That's also partly because I shot down 60g of plain dark chocolate in one go yesterday while going through the emotional release.

So, I went to the kitchen to make some chamomile and then I noticed how clear the sky was after the rain. So, I opened the back door and went into the garden and....

If any of you have a chance, meditate at 2:30 in the black night on the little grid of stars that He has put there for us. Add the cooling wind for a calming sound effect. And I looked, and I gazed, and I regarded.

And I contemplated.

And, slowly, calm and trust and acceptance came into the heart. Once again, the stars and the winds and the velvet sky whispered:

"He has a plan. You are small and insignificant and don't understand. 

He, who made this, who continues to add to the Creation, who is so loving to you and to the object of your interest and to the people flooded out in Pakistan and to everybody - He knows what you don't. 

Now, put your trust in Him. If it is meant to be, it will happen in its own time, perhaps the timing is off.

If it's not meant to be, there is no ownership. You all are One in the Realm.

He has taught you so much. Take those lessons and reflect on them. But, more importantly, trust in Allah's guidance and end it. Something better shall come from this. Let go of attachments to this world. 

Touch your dreams and let them go."

And I managed to feel so much gratitude towards myself and towards God that, five months on from being a complete whack-job and bed-ridden due to severe depression, I have been able to find my voice again and open up my heart so much that I allowed someone into my life and loved him and could imagine a life with him and not focus on his flaws, but on his absolute beauty and perfection for being who he is.

So, I'm going to cease being a twat to myself and to him, and do the cerebral, rational thing and just stop thinking that this is going to happen. It is not. If I'm lucky, we'll still manage to remain friends. If it doesn't happen that way, I smiled and sang and danced for 22 solid days.

I will always remember and always be grateful for that, you dear man-boy. You've made me grow exponentially and I've just had so much love and affection and compassion for you.

I have just become a joyous little bundle of light.

It's so unusual and novel.

Me, attractive.

Me, desirable.

If someone was to check out my mind and Soul and have compassion and unconditional positive regard for those parts of me, he'd have me through and through.

I thought I had found him. But, God says otherwise.

So I was wrong and have to seriously start working on the third-eye and crown chakras now. Because my intuition and inner voice and the ability to listen to Divine guidance (without resorting to flipping random pages of the Quran) is seriously shot.

Always has been.

Now, that's all I will say today on this.

It will take time to grieve and I accept that.


***

October 2011

"... there is always hope."

"It'll get better tomorrow. It always does... Yes, this is a random email. How are you?"

***

29 November 2010

"Sounds like you have a decent selection, but you cannot blame them as they dont understand what to say to a woman like you.

You are special, so i hope that you will find that person who will appreciate you for who you are.... (wow i sound different when i listen to my heart!!!)"

***


I tasted everything.
I found nothing better than you.
When I dove into the sea,
I found no pearl like you.
I opened all the casks,
I tasted from a thousand jars,
Yet none but that rebellious wine of yours
Touched my lips and inspired my heart.
~ Rumi


***


Eighteen months is quite enough time to grieve, little soul. 

Touch your dreams... and then TRULY let them go...

***

The Tyger (William Blake)

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?


In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?


And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?


What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?


When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?


Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Peeking through the veil

I have been debating within myself whether or not to publish public blog posts about the inner transformation I am going through.

There are quite a few reasons why I wouldn't want to, why I'd rationalise that it is not for "the greater good". Mostly it's to do with the wonderfully rigorous conditioning from family, culture and certain interpretations of faith. And my fears chase me round and round the garden, like an enormous teddy bear.

Some voices scream "Stay out of sight! Be unassuming, modest, in the background. You have nothing of value to say. You are no authority and you are in no way pious or one of the blessed Chosen Ones to even begin to share your insights with others".

Others whimper "If you tell other people, you'll jinx it. They have the power to take it all away and ruin your happiness. You must not share this sacred knowledge with everyone. It's akin to offering pearls to swine".

There is also the overwhelming and loud and clanky chatter which repeats: "It's all rubbish, you've entrapped yourself in an illusion, a fragile spider's web of your own creation, you're delusional. Stop before you go off the deep end and never find a way back to 'the truth'. If you don't, wait and see what happens when things fall apart."

Well, at least I can truly say I'm not alone in the world, if I've been lugging around all of the world and their opinions and disapproval in my invisible, energetic backpack!

So, then, why am I jumping off the precipice, slinking out of the shadows and into my Light?

A few reasons:

I feel compelled, the inner urge, to communicate this. I am obeying my intuition. I've been struggling to understand when I am being impulsive and when I am being intuitive. Someone told me to sleep on it, and if the urge is still strong, still makes sense, still resonates with you and you 'know' you must act upon it, then it's intuition or your guidance. But if you're in the throes of Ego and you're more attached to the mind and not the heart, sleep on it again. Or do nothing until you get an answer from somewhere.

So, I've slept on it. I feel peaceful. I'm still typing away, word after word, in a steady flow.

This, my dears, is Inspiration.

And, in the grand scheme of things, if you stumbled upon my blog somehow and are reading these words at this very moment, and what I have to say resonates with you, it shall resonate. You were meant to read this and open up to yourself and something vaster than that.

And if it does not, it does not. I hereby liberate myself from my persecution and martyr complexes ;)

Secondly, I finally came up with a title for this post during a funeral I attended yesterday. The funeral triggered a lot of insights and I could feel my stunted creativity and communication begin to flow once again. If you have been so kind as to be unaware of this, it has been a long time since my last personal post.

At the family funeral, I was once again smack bang in the middle of the East African/Indian/Pakistani Shia (or Shi'ite) Muslim culture I was brought up in. And I realised that I could no longer accept nor relate to a single thing.  The customs, the decades of conditioning that is still being promulgated as the way to salvation and inner tranquillity, the (dare I say it?) charade of a fulfilling and spiritual existence when all I could register was layers of automatic responses.

Yes, I think I can say this in a most compassionate and empathic and loving manner: what I have noticed in myself and in the cultural community that I was born into is that we are still reacting in our lives as a result of automated conditioning. We are, once again, forfeiting the dignity of free thought, exploration, insight, a true openness that recognises that all paths of inquiry eventually lead to God. We lack the certitude that even as we stumble and trip up and get confused, if we hold the strong intention and trust that He will gently and lovingly guide us back to our own truth, we will get there.

I shall, of course, greatly temper my loving observations and say there are many adherents to Islam who have leapt far beyond the place I currently am exploring, and whom I would greatly benefit by connecting with. Sheikh Arif Abdul Hussain is one. He's the head of an Islamic educational institute in the UK. As yet, I haven't been able to attract these key persons into my life in order to learn, grow, share, create and discover. Oh, well, "when the disciple is ready, the master will appear."

I suppose I had other learnings to master first, hence my teachers have come in different guises and forms, and up until now, pretty damned painful and spirit-breaking. And yet, "they" say that the most difficult people and the most painful situations and experiences are your most needed, valuable and even the most loving of teachers. They really challenge you to cleanse your soul and to reach deep within to find that little point of Light which allows you to truly forgive and love unconditionally, to break into your independence and your own truth, to truly be that wonderful, powerful, beautiful spiritual being you know that you are.

And these situations will keep recurring and these similar types of people will keep appearing until you experience what you need to and learn that which your Higher Self signed you up for. This can be changed, of course (but that's for another post!).


And this has been put into extremely harsh relief this past year.


At some deep and fundamental level, you can be subtly aware that you're missing something essential, that you only have to read or hear or see or experience something that will unlock the vault, grant you the keys to the Kingdom and truly remove the rust from the heart, the fog glasses from around the eyes, the blocks towards accessing your intuition, your unity consciousness and your knowingness (the 6th, 7th and 8th chakras) - so that you can TRULY, TRULY see, hear, feel, connect, know and BE.

This causes great unease. When you try, you search, you struggle and yet cannot seem to break free. You cannot see beyond. You're missing that which would help you completely transform your life. You may read the books by Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, books on receiving angel guidance, books entitled "You Are Psychic", books like Tomorrow's God by Neale Donald Walsch which open up to the sentence, "Ask yourself why you picked up this book out of all the books and you're reading, and continuing to read this page right now." (Yes, the books are starting to talk directly to me - giggle!)

I have been searching for a very, very long time. I had to start from a very low vibrational level. And when you are unaware of the cage, you don't seek to break free. And when you begin to sense that you are not leading the life that would express the true You, the you that comes to the fore in your most humble and pleading moments with God, or whilst playing with the wisest of children or the friendliest of kittens, the most brilliant of mandala colourings, the most magical of romantic or platonic soul mate moments, the sense of connection you feel when visiting a mosque or cathedral or place of trees and water and duckies, when writing an email, letter or a blog post from the depths of the heart.... there are many more, but you get the drift.

And then, someone or something, or a chain of events wake you up. Brutally or gently - depends on how you made your soul plan.


***


And, now, the brilliant phoenix observes the gilded cage she is within. It's comfortable, familiar and she's managed to survive so far. But her wings have been clipped, and they want to grow a lot more than the space she has allowed herself. She may be regularly fed, but it's all manufactured food, having no real taste, nutritional value or imagination in it, whatsoever. Bugs and snails and other creepy crawlies in the enchanted forest are what really whet her appetite. She's heard they exist, she dreams they exist when she sleeps and she may have even seen a sparrow or parakeet flying outside, in the real world with one in firmly grasped in its beak.

And she pines and is wistful and, if I'm honest, envious: Look at this magnificent kestrel's shiny, healthy plumage, look at how large her wings are, listen to the lovely songs they sing and the wonderful acrobatics they perform in the still, blue sky. They fly like birds, as they should. I am a bird, too. I have my own destiny. So, why am I the unfortunate one still in this rotten, limiting, cage which confines me in every possible way? Boo to all the people who put me in the cage. And locked it so I can't get out.

But, wait. As her physical senses become more sensitive and receptive to all that is around her, she notices that there is a way out. Actually, there are several. The lock is ancient, ancestral and was not made of the best material. This is no impenetrable metal, it is easily malleable, shaky at best. And she spies the keys are actually, hanging on a tiny hook on the outside of the cage. She moves towards the keys outside her current sphere of influence, and what does she see?

She's been sitting on an egg the entire time. She had to move her butt in order to know it was there! And her first instinct is to peck the egg open. But she is again distracted by some birds outside the window and the keys glinting on the hook attached to her cage, just out of reach.

She sleeps on the impulse and when she wakes, she sees that, actually her sitting on her ass for so long was the right method and time duration in order to allow the egg to hatch of its own accord. Some outside help is definitely required, but she only does that after the chick inside has actually broken away most of the protective shell and has drunk the nourishment that nature provided it.

The chick flares into being, in a gorgeous red, yellow, orange, green, blue, purple and brilliant white sacred fire. It is such a sight to behold. The phoenix is speechless. She needs to remind herself to breathe. And, suddenly the memories of the inherent knowingness, wisdom, intuition and, most importantly, Love all come flooding into her heart, her blood vessels, her entire being.

She remembers.

She takes one step towards the mystical, magical and newly hatched bundle of spiritual joy and potential. It hops and jumps towards her.

She whispers tentatively: Are you who I think you are?

The chick gives her a fierce, glowing look of such love and acceptance and forgiveness that nothing else needs to be said.

The phoenix opens up her beak and the chick hops, skips and finally plops inside of her beak. No chewing, no effort is necessary. All is within.

And she is now alight. She is aflame.

She is burning, burning, burning.

And it's the most magical, wonderful and peaceful feeling in the world.

She is Abraham burning in the coolest of fires.

It is first a green flame for healing, then a pink flame for allowing herself to give and receive all that she was fearful of touching or experiencing on any meaningful level in the past.

And now it is a steady silver and violet flame. For complete transformation.

She opens her eyes, still surrounded by the Divine light in the form of an alchemical, catalytic, powerful, absolute, healing, loving and guiding flame.

And the cage is no longer made of metal. That was the illusion, a super magic trick of the analytical mind.

It is a veil. It is a veil of shadows and light and sparkly bits. It's not structured at all. It's not overwhelming at all.

Most of it was made of distorted love, confused ideas of security, protection, guidance and uprightness.

The ideology has congealed into idolatry.

In a certain sense, it never existed.

And, so, she slowly opens up her wings. She sees green and gold and pink feathers are swiftly growing in all the places where she had once plucked them out herself, or where someone had clipped them with an opinion, a disapproval, an outdated and monolithic belief system or a non-acceptance of the evolutionary, ever-changing, ever-growing and ever-accepting Divine within.

The more she spreads her plumage, the larger the cage of shadows and lights and nothingness grows.

And the moment her feathers touch the walls of the cage, it is no longer.

She sees that the room is also an illusion.

Ethereal azure sky is everywhere. That is all it is. That it is all it ever was.

The phoenix dares to lift up those brilliant wings....

She flies.

Fearlessly trusting in herself and in God. That is all that is needed for the flight to the Heavens.

***

At the mosque, as we performed all the death rituals for my father's uncle, I once again didn't belong in that paradigm.

This, of course, is not the first time I have felt the sense of separateness. I've felt it for aeons, since I was 8 years old, perhaps. But in the past, it was hugely unsettling and disconcerting, because I and the people around me kept assuming there was something "wrong" with me.

I suppose society at large can, on a subconscious level, accept rebellion to a certain degree, because the underlying presupposition is that, on a subconscious level, you are attached to and you validate the majority culture and its belief system. You only rebel and formulate a subculture of your own when you feel threatened, betrayed or unappreciated.

But yesterday, as a result of all the self-work and the shifting and the releasing I've been doing in the last two months - it was perfectly OKAY.  I didn't feel attacked, or self-conscious, or left with the urge to be judgemental and condescending about that which my fellow sisters in faith did or said or believed. It was all as it was. And I allowed it to be so without an inner, automatic reaction.

This is quite liberating, once you find that place of beingness.

I didn't censure myself, nor did I censure anyone else for being or acting the way we did. I was in my space of being, and they were in theirs. I could completely connect with them, show them love and compassion and yet maintain my uniqueness, and I made sure they did the same.

I was really glad to be able to contribute by creating an energy space where true healing and releasing and cleansing could take place. This is thanks to all the learning and wisdom I am gaining from learning about Energetic NLP, my first step on the journey in this new phase of life of mine.

Another reason for my sudden outpouring of all that is within:

Yesterday, I recalled this part of Marianne Williamson's oft-repeated passage:

Your playing small does not serve the world
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other
people won’t feel insecure around you
We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us

It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone
And as we let our own light shine we unconsciously give
other people the right to do the same
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others

This stuff is not unique to me: I am not the creator of it, nor am I the sole recipient of it. We all have this inner wisdom, we all have this wonderful Light within. When one person finally awakens and begins to navigate themselves and their lives from their inner wisdom and spirit, it's the sole catalyst that is required for others to recognise their own true essence. And they will probe, and seek and perhaps one day, they will awaken in their own unique manner.

In my personal relationships or when reading the books of certain authors, I am acutely aware of those who are ahead of me on their personal journeys and how they inspire me. It is unusual for me to agree or follow every single thing that they say, do or become, but just the fact that they are courageous and brilliant enough to be the very unique expression of who THEY are.... makes me think,

"Hmmm, maybe I, too, can harness that confidence, that courage, that complete TRUST in self and can at least try this new way. I can try trusting myself. I can try expressing the person I may be at this time and see where it takes me."

I also came across the following angel cards yesterday:

Be grateful for those who have opened the door before you, for they have shown you new possibilities.

Healing, when properly understood, merely means casting a firm decision in the direction of your higher self's priorities.

And, so, here is the result.

I am peeking through the first of many veils that envelop me and can see that it is time for me to lift it and move ahead.

My life coach has set for me a 21 day writing challenge in order to facilitate my cellular reprogramming. I have to write certain phrases 21 times daily for 21  continuous days.

And, so... 

♥♥♥

I lovingly forgive myself for failing to love, heal, honour, respect, cherish, trust, value, validate, support, care for, empower, liberate and awaken myself in the past.

http://www.pocketonline.net/g2engine/d/17445-1/Baby+Phoenix_001.jpg

I AM DOING THAT NOW, NOW, NOW!

♥♥♥