there is a scent

The background for this piece of work is after three weeks of being told to stay at home, and all life and seeming progress has halted for not just me, but for many others.

I had hoped and prayed that this week would be different, but not enough people have empowered themselves, of whom I am one.

The depressions that hit me again were firstly that any relationships I had tenderly, slowly, carefully rebuilt, all came crashing back to zero.

I have had to face the fact that, for some very odd reason, I just am going through a time whereby people who have a strong connection with me are non existent. I'm literally contacting my mother almost every day because - she is my mother. God has genuinely placed love for me in her heart, and for her in mine. I'm being kind to my father as much as I am able to, because of him I have a house and am not melting down due to lack of money.

But the aunts with whom I was communicating with, the cousins I had reconnected with, the friends I was making connections with... they have been struggling with the drastic changes in their own lives. It was easier for each of us to cope with our struggles because we had the ability to go somewhere else for a while.

I wonder if there are different layers of love, and if I personally have to go through this deep isolation so that I have the opportunity to ask again and again, "Allah, please enter my heart and fill up all of the loneliness that I feel, so that I don't get upset, feel victimised, ignored or devastated." This inner child work takes ages, and a huge chunk is also past life pain and trauma.

Same cycles going over again.

This time, however, I have fallen deep inside the emotions. As much as I could. I have lain down and held myself and cried and felt the anxiety, and the panic and the despair and just let it shake through, flow through, and then the tears come through.

I can't breathe very well these days, it has been the case for the last three weeks. I am concerned if this is the result of 5G microwaving my body.

There are so many fears and concerns, and the general theme is that of helplessness.

So the last two weeks have not been very productive for me, dragging heavy heavy energy around.

Today, I am writing here after clearing energy and trying to shift the heaviness.

I am half way through an article I wanted to write about my life experiences, and my confusing relationship with Islam and with Allah. I was happy to write it, and then the next day the depression kicked in again and I have not touched it in a week.

So at least, I have written this.

***

One of the Sufi healers, he has the softest and gentlest demeanour of the people I have met in my life.

He told me about a specific Mohammedan scent, about how Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) has a very specific scent that is also recognisable.

And it just made me feel so much at peace to know that I have a connection to that.

So let us see if I can break through all of these challenges and obstacles.

The main thing for me is to face the fears, acknowledge them and then heal them.

The fears of being attacked and unjustly treated by authorities are still very high. And still find it difficult being around Caucasian people, I get intimidated. Don't ask me why (racism and low self esteem that is still there).

Anyway, at least I wrote something.

It was cathartic for me.

self expression

I'm finding it a bit easier to express to people verbally how I feel.

And at the same time, I am finding some really unhappy people taking out their crap on me, the last was a new mother who came to my workplace and treated me like a servant. The funny thing is that she was from what is classed as an oppressed ethnic minority. I just tolerated her, as my energy has worn thin with humans at this time.

This year has shown to me all the places whereby my ego has been grabbing onto things and people and experiences that are not for me.

Creativity has been blocked entirely, and I am working on healing some stuff inside of me, to help me progress.

As usual, I am alone in this, and lonely.

As usual, ghosts from the past come to haunt me in the silent, darkness at night. I speak to them, I tell them how I feel, there is no answer, not even to my "salaam".

I have been distracting myself with Indian cinema and Bollywood interviews. Makes me happy to a least be associated with Indian lineage, even if my own particular family's lineage is mightily f*cked up.

I have made some firm decisions, that I am now awaiting my dear Allah to help me finalise and materialise.

This will change the fabric of this earth, and grant me some everlasting peace.

Jab insaan itna thaktha hai dunya se, logon sey, umeedein jab sab khojatein hain, phir focus karna parta hai towards something that works better.

Haar maanne koi buri baat nahi hai.

We go back to the drawing board and take a huge rest, and then pick lighter challenges and come back down again.

In other news, I just learned that Sikhism is only 500 years old, and was merged a little between Hinduism and Islam. So interesting.

I like the energy behind Sikhism, feels very pure - especially when I listen to Ik Onkar by Harshdeep Kaur.

These are just disjointed thoughts - I've had the flu and it's kicked my butt again.Bollywood is keeping me connected and grounded.

Issi bandi ko zyaada inkesaari ki zaroorat par rahi hai... kya karein?

This song is my latest love - I just discovered it:

a little forward movement on the scale of evolution

We all come to a point in our lives whereby the things that would break our heart, do not. You can experience things and still keep that song in your heart.

This month has been really testing for me, mainly on the days I am at work in Mitcham and having to deal with the disturbed public there. Daily, I meet unaligned people, far removed from anything divine and spiritual, misunderstandings abound. I have had at least three women entirely waste precious hours of my life with their blatant lies and ****.

Unfortunately, my intuition either doesn't kick in or I am not listening to it. Had I known, I would have behaved differently. I'm so behind on my other work, it's like trying to hold onto a thousand strings.

Since I began fasting at work, I escape to the local park during lunch, so I can breathe and regain what little dignity I can. Thankfully, it has been sunny and dry in London in order for me to do this.

Today, I accidentally bumped into my friend in the supermarket. He's changed his working hours for the holy month, and so he finishes at 7:00pm. We both were tired from thirst and fasting, and he was stressed - sigh. I wonder if there will ever be a time of freedom and laughter and good stuff.

But I was happy to see him - it has been three months since we last saw each other.

And this time I could see that all of my airs and graces had been swiftly taken from me. Part of this was a result of spending time with my "Sufi" cousin when I was in Toronto, without the airs and graces I used to hold so dearly to myself. He can see thrugh most people, most of the time, most of the way. (Lol.)

I was myself, if a bit lost for the real words and topics due to fatigue.

I ended up getting him some Oreo chocolate, as that's really the only thing I knew he would actually like and eat - he refused to tell me what to get him for his iftaar. God, please bless my friend with the real light you blessed me and my cousin with.

But the desperation and clinging is long gone. If I don't see him, I am contented. This is a major achievement of my soul, which I am acknowledging publicly. I used to cry with real pain in my heart, and wish I could have him for myself. Funnily enough, two nights ago, the same toxic unhelpful regrets about how single I am at age 34, and how no one really wanted to be with me went through my energy field and I cried so much. There was pain in my heart and brain, and I had to place selenite on those areas to extract the pain. It was a much deeper level of healing and acceptance that was needed.

I just want my own husband, and my own happiness now. Without the rubbish that I take almost weekly from certain people I work with, the unhappy ones disconnected from themselves and addicted to alcohol, lying, complaining, and the rest of it.

I truly wonder if this will ever happen?

But then, other things have taken place as well. My dear Moshi died last Thursday - he was put down after being run over by a car. Moshi was my cousin's spoiled cat, but we all loved him SO very much.

I cried a lot for two days. Now I am okay with that.

I fell so ill over the weekend, that I was unable to leave my bed for most of it - such a frustrating, repetitive pattern. It really confounds me how to move forward with this.

My Rahaani teacher told me if I am not self healing, journeying to see my guide, or healing another person, then no wonder I am not highly intuitive and my world isn't going quite as I would like.

I just feel it gets too much to bear sometimes.

I hope you understand the depth of what I mean, and not see this as more complaining and ingratitude. Not that there's anything wrong with being in that state for a while.

I'm still missing the bus, and now they are almost empty buses in the morning. But having missed those buses, I have bumped into very attractive, handsome, well dressed and seemingly kind and benign desi men - who may or may not be single, and may or may not be my spiritual/romantic matches.

Let us see. At the very least, I make more of an effort when getting ready for work in the morning :)

Today was the 6th of the month of Ramadhan. I am technically in eitikaaf, and speaking to His creatures is a part of this eitikaaf. I have and am reflecting upon my core fears and my failings, mistakes, and negativities and asking for help to move beyond all of this.

According to my psychic, I still have to go through another month of utter bull until hopefully my life will be "for real" lighter and filled with Allah's grace.

But I notice I am using the pronoun "I" still.

Speaking of which, my two books arrived - The Degrees of the Soul and The Forty Rules of Love.

I'm going to inundate my energy with Light until I become it.

No other choice; the way of crap and delusion and destruction doesn't work.

You were the one who left Yourself

"You were the one who left Yourself
You were the one who hurt You
You were the one who held a grudge against yourself the whole time
You were the one running from You.
This is the spiritual truth of the twin flame connection.
This is the perfect imperfection of the twin flame relationship."
- Cassady Cayne

http://www.twinflames1111.com/blog/twin-flame-essentials/mastering-twin-flame-journey/ 



I like to believe this is true, because it gives a different perspective on the run of the mill drama and trauma.

Relationships can be so difficult. Relating to people can be difficult.

Today, I felt like an alien whilst commuting on the rail replacement service from Morden to Stockwell.

I'm still thinking of him with the fondness I felt at the beginning, when we were BOTH into each other. Some of the resentment has washed away since last weekend, because I burned a stick that represented all the crap in my life I wanted to burn away for good.

Let's hope the decorated, shiny stick (which was also burnt) brings in much goodness.

But, in all honesty, I still miss him. I still pray that we will one day become functional friends, even if we can't become partners. Like grown up friends. Or else, it would be so miraculous for me to ask God if I can ask to transfer my affection and deep longing and connection with him for some other soul more willing to be a more conscious, courageous and authentic man.

I read another article, one that actually explained a lot about my own situation.

https://gangstagoddesses.com/twin-flame-is-in-a-romantic-relationship-with-someone-else-is-it-over/

Most twin flames haven't even had sex with one another, because the bond is firstly on a soul fabric level, that high intensity of love isn't found in the sacral it is found in our pores, in the crown and in the heart.

It is pure, without all the facades we created in our human lives.

It takes a LOT of soul growth and HEALING for BOTH twins before they can sustain the sexual energy, and in my case, it didn't happen even though I felt so much love and sexual desire for him. I was too afraid to meet him. Now I know why.

What is interesting and something I now can admit without any ego, is that he recognised me first. He saw me first, recognised me and came to me first. I recognised him after two weeks, or a month or so. And then I remained steadfast in that recognition, whereas he swerved and found another to bring him the peace and love, the recognition (and sanity) that he desired.

And now, all I face is silence from him, and from my cousin, and from my former colleague.

Yet my mind is still loud and raucous with their voices, and with their words.

I pray we each of us heal from this really debilitating and disempowering disease of nostalgia and pining away for the past.

See, even as I write this and express the truth of my current emotional state, my left lower back is in pain in recognition of this disempowerment that needs healing.

If I am invisible and rejected when I no longer serve a purpose in these mens' lives, so be it.

I am still worthy as a creation of God. If they can't recognise my worth, it is because they are focussed on their own lives and their own wives, and that's okay.

I don't have those distractions in my own life.

There is a reason for that. It is easier to self correct, to grow and to purify when you are alone, when your needs are yet to be met.

When ones needs are met, the human being becomes slightly lazy and less dedicated in their quest for divine experiences.

Plus they are uncovering the core, bare bones of my rejection and abandonment wounds, and when I am strong enough, I shall place them in shamanic stones, paint them and own these wounds to help others, in my mesa cloth.

On a funnier note, I have been tempted every single time I had contacted him (or when he slipped up in May 207 and contacted me) to send him this image below, but I knew he wouldn't take it as lightheartedly as I wanted him to. It cracks me up that Muslims can be so hilarious. I wish I could make friends with them, but that's showing another wound relating to my inability to make or maintain friendships due to alien reasons :p

Soul's Reflection - May 2017

Buddha Doodles

SOUL'S REFLECTION - MAY 2017 

A lot has been happening to trigger off things and bring out all the ghoulies from the subconscious. The feelings of disempowerment have soared for me in the last 12 months. All I could do was experience it as best I could, and then pick up the pieces afterwards.

Yesterday was a perfect example of the kind of day I no longer wish to invite into my life yet I still seem to invite it. The shaking hands, ungroundedness, getting on the wrong bus, having old friends entirely brush off my concerns and my having to realise when a dead horse is truly dead.

The fact is that boundaries need to be solidified and I will need to start eating fish in order to get protein so my hair can start feeling healthy and not fall out in shock.

The most frustrating pattern in the last 12 months has been that I stopped entirely and couldn't do anything. And when my energy clears and I can do things, then everything happens at the same time, I miss out and then I shut down all over again.

Patience and moderation will get me far.

There is no point in getting frustrated with others saying something that isn't for me. We still need to respect it and maybe not ask those questions or invite those behaviours in to our field.

I would always choose to liberate myself from all the crap of the past and all that isn't really me and lose the illusions that up until now I still hold onto out of fear and sadness of loss.

You see, the thing that frustrates me is that all of the others did it. They went through their darkness and now are doing a lot better than I could even imagine for myself.

And I still haven't when I am the same as them. We all come from the same Light, so what on earth is that limiting belief so powerful that it holds me back?

The amount of meandering and blind following I have done in the last so many years is astonishing.

There is much rage still needing release, so watch out pillows and ugly crockery!

I shall find a light-heartedness that eluded me for so long.

I shall find the way, in spite of all that I mistook for love that ended up being control. Clarity shall find me and embrace me and love me. So shall hope and alignment.

Without needing to justify the act of writing

And then there came a point in the life of my life when I asked myself, what happens when you truly have lost your craft? When it feels like that was the most previous thing you owned or made an identity around that the universe asked you to give away in order for peace to reclaim itself inside your cells? Or something as fancy as that.

I celebrated an anniversary yesterday. Seven years of the prodigal daughter returning to Anglo-Saxon ground in order to conquer and heal an entire planet. In layman's terms, I returned to the UK with full intentions of qualifying as a counsellor and something else random. What was not on the original flight plan was the entire "waking up and becoming divine" section.

No one was notified of this anniversary. I felt had I mentioned it to anyone, I would not be able to maintain their questions online (as, currently, there is no one to maintain a gaze with. Yet another sentence I write and wish I was back in the 90s with those enormous Mac computers and hideous green computer screens. As a generation, we grew up way to fast - now we all are facing the facts about chem trails, thousands of dead salmon washing up on the shores of Southern Chile and false flag media stories.).

It is truly unsafe now for anyone of my generation to indulge in nostalgia or nostalgic stories of the past. They were all mental constructs. Our DNA was a lot denser then than it is now, therefore life didn't feel as heavy - but that never means it wasn't that heavy.

I can't seen any justification for me to continue to believe something about the Soul Plan Contracts, about my solely being a writer. What can a writer do but write?

This planet needs real action. Energies removed and energies revived.

Someone was having a clear out yesterday (I was helping with the clearing out) and gifted me a sizeable pile of unused writing paper, including two legal pads.

My writing had a different tone to it when in medium yellow background. I just wrote and wrote, without the fear and the constriction I have been feeling for a very long time.

Yet writing can only do so much and I have now realised that my soul signed up for more active role in soothing this planet.

Opinion is free, but let's not make it cheap.

You learn to read and write and somehow feel that society and human civilization will evolve even further. Yet something in me refuses to go to that next stage when my young child in Syria has just been gassed with some awful unknown chemicals. How can anyone not see?

The relatively superficial talk and discussions I have overheard or taken part in over the last few years are now beginning to come back up at the back of my throat.

Every day I waste looking for another cupboard cut-out job, meant for the candidate to fit the job and smooth over the rough, unique, human, divine edges of their being when necessary, is another day a child starves, an animal is killed for meat, people are beaten up in India BECAUSE an animal is killed for meat, and the insane policies are continues and everything that was originally designed to benefit humanity, including this very computer I am typing at, has now all turned against us because we are empowering ourselves.

Every time I sense a hit of my own power back, either I or something external does all it can to destroy it.

You can't really talk about this things yet in large circles to people who would understand. Understanding, we all have, I stand corrected. But the depths of the concern for this planet is increasing every day. I can't sleep well, I can't relax enough 

There is a divine reason why my blog is seriously under the radar and I don't really invest enough time or energy into it.

I do have a remaining trace of seemingly real fear of the consequences of speaking up to boldly and too loudly.

And secondly, actions are what this bleeding and totally molested planet needs.

I can write many poems or angry posts, but nothing I write will stop the Fukushima nuclear really affecting us. The children, the poor, the.... at times like these, I really must learn to breathe deeply.

It's worse than the worse horror flick. It's REAL. So in relief, in harsh relief, all the superficial advertisements that encourage us to consume, or celebrate National Hat Day (seriously, have we devolved to this - a National Day for things to somehow regulate our emotions and obedience levels - to ascertain citizenship, which - how many times does this need to be repeated - is an entirely human man-made construct that means jack all. I've had British citizenship all my life and am still being regularly screwed over by our darling insane politicos. They have some emotional or mental health issues - no regular person would ever pass laws and regulations that they have to harm the entire population of humans and chop us at our knees so we have to fight so much harder to get to highest potential levels. It should never have been this challenging to get to where you wish to in 2017 - and that child pedophilia and sex trafficking is really happening and not a top priority - a flipping trident nuclear war system has priority over everything sane and humane. And this why I can't keep genuine hundred per cent respect for people who are in charge of charities yet grovel towards the establishment - something is amiss when you do that.

Dignity of the human soul and divine spark is paramount in our lives and it is TIME we woke up to that simple truth.).

When I started waking up 7 years ago, I was full of zeal because it was new and I assumed it also promised me a breakthrough that I needed and didn't get when I had gone on spiritual pilgrimage to Iran in 2007.

In 2017, the illusion that 2012 or 2016 would bring relief is gone. It won't happen in my lifetime.

I am unsure how a planet would sustain itself having being so severely raped, poisoned and disrespected.

When we look at it from the slightly pessimistic lens I have been seeing things, it seems fair to say I believe in an overarching being who is omnipotent and therefore has powers to click re-set or destroy and rebirth.

There are now perhaps too many voices and egos grappling for various resources that may actually turn out to be finite. Miracles abound but if the human race still insists on being in grunt mode (grunt mode being not waking up and living life in a two-dimensional egoic state, just as a five year old would behave perpetually), I honestly don't understand how Gaia can continue to take all the beating and still feel dignified.

Of course, that is why I am here and why a lot of us are here and went through a lot of stuff in order to wake up. being woke is not pleasant. I told my father that a day ago when I showed him the chem trails and he began mocking me with his laughter that sometimes sounds terrifyingly canned.

I promise you, none of us will ever get so bored that we invent lies and conspiracy theories to keep ourselves entertained. Most of us still wish that the planet just contained light and fluffy cotton candy. Chem trails? I'd never be able to dream of that stuff in a million years. Yet, someone did. I have had some thoughts that I probably picked from the collective unconscious and those are better dissolved. Not pleasant. Not even not acted upon in history.

Some days, I wish I was still unawake. I might relax and not have the quite constant panic episodes on the London underground. They kick up worse when unsettled people clamber onto the tube with all their content and expect me to sort it out energetically.

I have just gotten fed up of that and leave my seat and many times the train carriage and have waited for the next train.

It is also deeply disheartening to think that after seven years of promises and eloquently written articles about critical mass and first wave and second wave people, we still have so many people who are unawake.

I still don't meet people in my daily life to whom I can speak to, people who would become my allies and my vision community.

All the light workers I know are going through immense personal issues, not very pleasant and seem to enjoy being lone rangers or led like sheep by those flashy gurus who give you wrist bands to wear as yet another sign of branding.

So, for now, writing will need to be not as important as waking up and taking action.

Our waters are being polluted. Does that not make you feel sad? People at Standing Rock were entirely humiliated for wanting clean drinking water. Do we not see what's happening?

Water.

Our food is being poisoned and manipulated beyond belief? Does that not make you question? The honey bee is going to become extinct. They are dying. How is this even happening?

Vulnerable people are being told they can't have tax money for food and medicines, yet Amazon and Costa Coffee and all the big companies DO NOT PAY TAXES in the UK and ARE STILL being REWARDED for that? Does that not even make you flinch?

HSBC. Enough said.

Animals are being maimed, tortured, killed for meat and fur, for being a boy if it is a baby chick.... since when did we forget that animals are a part of us, a part of our souls?

The UK still has a redundant monarchy that perpetuates itself by painting itself as fluffy and benign. Why do we not see what's going on? I hope Diana Spencer and Modi al Fayed didn't both get assassinated in vain.

We do not need all of the flashy stuff, not when my brother is dying in Somalia in a famine and the only one with a heart is a basketball player who is being humiliated for being true and down to earth. But you see, at the end of the day, he is the one flying 50 tonnes of food to Somalia.

A friend of mine asked me recently how is it that all the New Age articles and books seem to still focus on the fluffy stuff, not talk about what real spiritual journeys are about? They are dark beyond belief and calling it a dark night of the soul doesn't put meat onto things.

She and I came up with the theory that the authors a) haven't really gone through the darkness like we are going through b) they have gone through it but either wanted to forget about it or didn't know how to help others through it so remained silent and c) are heavily guided and edited by publishing companies, including Watkins. There's also this inherent obsession with keeping positive and not manifesting crap through thoughts and words.

She also feels that because there are many younger souls waking up, the authors and teachers don't want to scare them off by telling them all the dark stuff is real and that every soul that dies before it's biological death will have to taste the darkness of the Shadow! I agree. It's intense and makes you question your entire reasons for being.

But today, whether it was due to the yellow legal pads or my having shamanic cord removals last week, I wrote and I wrote.

Without needing to justify the act of writing.

And I yearn for the day I can just be the writer and everyone is sorted. Not having to justify my yearning for putting magical words to paper and seeing them ignite a soul in a way I had not anticipated.

But, not now.

Now, we are activists and we bloody act in the name of what is decent and honourable. We stick it out. We get the strength from wherever we possibly can.

For they underestimate the human spirit. Or rather, the divine that resides within each of us.

We all have free will and most of us will choose to continue being asleep and never waking up. There are myriad reasons for why a soul would choose that actively on a daily basis. One of the simple truths is that becoming awake ain't for sissies. And so the younger souls are buffered with delicate veils of illusions to play around in until such a time when they are strong enough to bear different planes of reality.

I know I am one of them and have 
         accepted this 

as it brings me towards humility and 

               whilst prostrating 
                                     at the dust of my Beloved's feet, 
                                                                             I find great heights

The different fabrics of souls (1)

Stunning mosaic art work

I met someone new over the weekend. I already knew he was happily married with two children before we even met in the flesh, so this time I fortunately didn't get my hopes up. We didn't interact much during the full day workshop we were participating at, mainly because it was more task based and taking in information than that of interaction. At lunch, we were at different tables.

I found it easier to be in this group setting yet I still had a panic attack in the morning and had to do some deep breathing and hold onto a crystal for the morning session.

It has been a challenging week.

He was gracious enough to drop me half way home, to the nearest TfL Underground station that didn't mean him going out of his way. Very logical. Had to go back home to his kids.

Again, on my pilgrimage to Iraq earlier this month, I had asked for my genuine and real soul family to come up so I can begin making new and hopefully longer lasting connections. No karma, no drama.

So the first guy I'm sent along is a surprise, since I have been hiding and in hibernation for months now, after having been repeatedly hurt by male members of the human species. I seem to have been attracting the really sensitive ones who have been hurt so badly, they have barbed wires around their hearts and minds and have punctured me so much whilst all I tried to do was heal their hearts.

A hard lesson learned.

He is someone who again I didn't even bother to exchange contact details with or even ask what his last name was, because of the very old paradigm of me connecting so quickly and comfortably with a Muslim man who is married.

We felt like old friends from the start. I did fall into an old pattern of sounding somewhat superficial and involved with the mundane realities of life, only because I suppose I had to speak in a language he would understand. It felt so good to just be my daft self, not even knowing how connect to the Bluetooth of his BMW and not being able to help charge his phone properly.

We drove in silence for a while (he couldn't take too much quiet for reasons unknown) as the sun was setting and as we passed lush green fields and beautiful trees, I realised this is what a normal romantic relationship would feel like. It made me sad that, in 33 years, I am yet to experience such simple pleasures of life.

And yet the acceptance of my current life and all of the past heavy karmic involvements with others washed through me. "My next life-time will be better, inshallah" is my new appeasing phrase to myself.

We were driving past Hyde Park when he complained about his frustration with the Muslim community doing the defunct thing every Thursday of going to the mosque and wasting X amount of hours in a year over nothing.

"We should do something more social, why doesn't anyone do something more casual?"

I replied: Well, there are people who are doing a lot of stuff, but they are the ones who have been excommunicated from the community!" And then I continued, "Look, you have to understand that there are different soul ages and levels. From my perspective, 80% of people who are currently Muslim are like that because if they WEREN'T Muslim, and weren't under some rules and regulations, they would cause such chaos in the world. I am one such person, if I hadn't had a grounding, I'd have been even more lost than I am now."

He nodded his head in assent.

"There are many people who are infant souls. Now someone who is kindergarten and reached Year five is doing quite well for himself. You can't expect that person to become a PhD. You have to understand this. And as for those of us (such as you and I) who are going beyond that and seeking more, well, that's because... um (at that point, I was so exhausted, my words were failing me and couldn't come out as poetic and meaningful as I would have liked) .. the fabric of our souls is different."

Yes, he felt like soul family. I haven't felt this comfortable with anyone in such a long time, at least since my colleague from the job I left a year ago. The same colleague who was such a source of support to me for two years has now decided to ignore me entirely.

And this is why I no longer can rely on anyone. Because they will always fail you.

Hadhrat Abbas (a.s.) shrine at Dhuhr prayer

I had gone to Iraq to pray for myself, pray for Iraq, pray for the dire way the UK is going, pray for every animal and every soul. Pray, pray, pray for my entire life to shift and change. For me to just be free from all that is holding me back.

I may need to write a separate post on my journey there. It deserves such respect.

For now, I can say I felt such immense peace at the shrines in Najaf, Karbala and Kadhmain. The energy shimmered. I didn't feel the loss of family or lovers or friends.

It felt as though my real divine mother had taken me up and was cradling me in her arms. This was specifically at the shrine of Abu Fadhl Abbas ibn Ali. Such peace, such belonging. I cried almost every time. My heart hurt. I couldn't recite anything, I would just look at the children playing and pray for their safety and well being and look at the sparrows flitting about the shrine, making thier place there.

It felt so good being there. Two weeks in a place without any chem trails. I could breathe. Although I really dislike wearing the black chador, at least I blended in and no one stared at me as  they do in London. I had very few, if any, people sticking to my butt as well.

I came back to London and I miss it. But I could not live in Iraq. Not right now. Maybe when there is peace in that land, I may try to live in Baghdad or any place where I don't need to cover from head to toe.

The orphan children and their smiles.... I would like to experience serving the orphans in a very real and practical way.

Beautiful Iraqi children in Najaf, selling trinkets on the street instead of being in school

I feel more at home there than I do in London or any other place in the West I have visited. London has very dark energies, and most light workers I speak to agree with me on this. They all feel they would be a lot better suited to another place, the countryside or elsewhere. Perhaps we all decided to come here because we were called to cleanse the place.

But for some of us, the pain and drama is not worth awakening an entire city or planet for. It is no longer acceptable to my own soul, I deserve better than the experiences that continue to occur with me in this city. With people feeling so disconnected form themselves and the general chaos in this city, surely I know better than to continue staying here.

I never thought I would go so far as to say I feel imprisoned living in London. I know there might be a city or town somewhere else in the UK whereby my soul could rest and breathe freely. Or somewhere else in the world whereby my footsteps and presence would be loved and cherished.

It is just a matter of asking God to help reveal the next steps and finally remove the obstacles to it all.

If I was to detail the fabric of my own soul, it is of the most delicate and fine material, wispy and loving. Warm shades of pink, mauve, blue, green, splashes of bright yellow and giggles. A deep cat's purr.

(C) Kenji Kumara, all rights reserved

There is a reason why the Qu'erro shared their healing knowledge and wisdom with us "Western" people. We need healing more than ever.

Even though I think I've done the healing, today my shaman told me I have to keep doing the healing.

It is what it is.

May I finally submit to what God wishes for me, instead of going against the divine plan and ending up with nothing all over again.

That burnt out feeling of a tired soul that wants release

dew to the mangled heart

dew to the mangled heart

We none of us have the answers
Which are wrapped up in vulnerable layers
Of pain and remembrance
In each individual soul.

Sometimes, we bless ourselves with
A chance meeting in a crystal shop
Or stable, surrounded by beauty and
Angels, dropping pearls of wisdom into
One's ever grateful heart
(that's not a euphemism for answering
The call of nature, by the way).

We get a wink and a nudge,
Maybe a block of homemade fudge
And are wrapped up warm and
Sent on our way.

I don't have a desire to see ghosts,
Spirits, entities
The lovers and friends from the past
Do enough of their entrancing dance
Inside of my head and soul
Until I whimper for God's grace
To clot my bleeding heart.

We show each other our own light
Uniquely similar
We reflect their lights to them,
Some receive, others balk and
Dishonour the contracts.

When you drop your treasured green
Shamanic pi-stone and it divides
Into four equal pieces
And your personality has matured
So you let it go...

You are most likely ready to let go of
The ghosties and ghoulies invading your space.
It's time to go, fellas.
Every single one of you.

"Come, come.
Even though you have broken
Your vow a thousand times,
Still come."

Those words of a humble poet
Bring back the dew to the mangled heart
Of a Beloved.
One whose heart, mind and soul
Still lack the tranquility she craves.



Yet it is easily bestowed upon others.

~ Sukaina Juma
25.09.2015

Of a God that is fickle...

There is actually a lot to write about these days.

And yet all I wish to do is reflect, and at the same time my head is flowing with ideas that I can't actually write about. All they are doing is percolating around my head since Wednesday night.

And today I sat at home all day, and when I finally switched on the computer to observe how the world is turning, I find the things that would cause emotions to well up inside me, I look at them like a movie I am witnessing.

It was Glastonbury music festival this weekend, and I wasn't even aware. Even though I really do want to go to it. Perhaps in two years time, if 2017 isn't happening.

The entire world has a say about what has happened. Good, bad - something in between? All I am aware of is that the UK has shifted again, and I pray there is good in this. So my Spanish watermelon will cost a lot more, and I didn't agree to Boris Johnson EVER becoming Prime Minister.

Are all of these people the same, different faces and only one interest?

All the things I was running after last week, I've forgotten all of them in a daze.

I begin to ponder, how many times does one awaken from a dream?

How many times does one have another facet of themselves tell them they are asleep, or awake or something in between? That all the people they had sepcificially asked God for help, they all failer her in some manner?

That the impulsive soul causes much financial loss on seeking paradise.

Immy wrote to me in his offensive email to me in February that he too imagines what Heaven looks like. Why is he such a child in his way of seeing things? Is that really who I am still? Perhaps so.

He had come into my life to wake me up properly. I was writing poems as though a dam had burst. I was seeing things, thinking things that were most definitely the start of an awakening and the bursts of a creative soul.

It all died down, and I went back to him and I stuck to his memory for 6 years.

And now, there is nothing. Now, I am back to how I was before I met him.

Not really here, not really embodied, but at least my interest in life and politics is back. My interest in people is back. Lady Gaga gets to meet the Dalai Lama over the weekend, and I kind of feel a bit sad that I didn't go for London Pride Festival, because I was tired and didn't want to be around people.

I will probably need to really become active in the Green Party. The Women's Equality Party isn't run so much by love.

There have been many questions asked to me this week and luckily, this week hasn't been dramatic at all by my standards. It's been a good week, one in which I earned some money and had some mystical, bizarre experiences.

I wonder how it is to be around people who actually are sincere, pure and understand how things are.

One question, "Sukaina what happened? You are free but..." and it collapses me into a heap of tears.

I am free, but I live in a society whereby they are still doing their best to open their hearts and can't seem to do it. Earth Star chakra is all money minded and I can't seem to find my feet here.

I was considering moving to Bath, but in practical terms, I cannot.

One can write Hu on top of a clean, fresh page and write down all the manifesting statements, yet the fact remains that I don't know how and leaving the how to God is good for others, but hasn't worked for me.

All of these concepts, and what really saddens me is how on earth could I, someone with reasonable intelligence and wits and discernment, entirely allow someone take over my life and soul, delaying me in my opening up and onnection to God, and then lying to my face, saying that had I woken up earlier, I would have sent out the "spark of awakening" into the ethers.

That was when I really ought to have taken stock.

People have been waking up since the 60s. What I say or do in some ways has zero impact, because nothing I say or perceive hasn't been said before, and more eloquently.

My aim in life is not to be some saint. I can't do it, even my therapist told me the other day.

I want to be functionally happy, to be able to vote for the right things out of clear awareness and foresight, to be able to dismantle an unjust and nonsensical system for one that CARES about people.

I have been around people who said they wanted too do the same, had no clue at all about how to go about it, and kept changing their minds until I had that peculiar feeling of being a beached whale somewhere and not being able to get back to sea. So my skin is crisping in the sun, and my tongue is parched.

They say I am You and You are everywhere

Perhaps I enjoy being distant from Thee

They do say, not that I have any direct experience, that make up love making is the best kind, full of passion and spark. Maybe that's what m soul desires.

That after being separated from God for so long, in spite of everything bringing me closer, and the entire world falling away multiple times to leave me alone, with my thoughts, my breath, the silence...

The Union would become ever more fantastic.

All I know is that prayers are answered when God will them to be, and then nothing can stop you from being found.

All I was doing was adding professionals to my LinkedIn contacts so that I have contacts, like real world people do, and one of them was my cousin. And then, out of nowhere, a prayer I had asked God a long, long, long time ago, perhaps two years ago, suddenly transpires.

And even now, I saw myself resisting and feeling angry, and the ego kicking up. As I type this, my right hip is giving out sharp inches and pains. That usually means a deep energetic cord is releasing.

I remember how three weeks before my first proper healing course, which happened to be Energetic NLP, I was in complete agony over this same right hip pain. Masculine programming.

There are always things to be grateful for.

Even when you've lost everything and still cannot fathom or manage a balance between the earthly plane and your spiritual growth, there is an assurance that you still are okay as a person.

It just is as it is... the cycles are in seismic shifts and one day is entirely differnet from the next.

Although peace permeates being, and space invades my head, there is still a stress in the bak of my mind that niggles and remains.

And, as someone would advise, just acknowledge that you don't know how to move beyond it, and give it to God.

The God that is fickle. He is a representation of me, no more and no less.

- Sukaina Juma
27/06/2016

A Cosmic Love Letter

I had to listen to this twice to actually comprehend that someone who is teaching spiritual truths actually went so far to tell us how much we are loved and deserve to be here.

With such authority.

Of course, I'm feeling a lot better than I have for a month or so. So it sinks in much deeper.




My skin is vibrating, my heart is feeling relief. My soul feels immense relief.

I will allow you to just take this in and absorb it. My words are failing me currently.

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

Parting the Red Sea

I remembered Moses yesterday.

He is one of the mentioned prophets. Raised as a prince. Led a nation. Manifested miracles. Killed a man, was forgiven for it. Learnt to transcend his anger and impatience. He settled down and had a family. Meditated for forty days and nights and his nation went astray - again. His right hand was Aaron, the next in line for prophethood. He turned staffs into snakes.


Yesterday, I remembered him as the child in the reed basket, floating from the arms of one loving mother into the arms of a second loving mother.


Betrayed by memories of a prophetic dream, he was presented with a plate of dates and a plate of live, hot coals.

He had a choice. He had a choice between the easy life and a more arduous life.

He was divinely guided toward the easy life: to save his earthly life and allow him to fulfil his destiny, he burnt his mouth permanently when he chose the glowing coal and attempted to eat it.

Only after which was he able to accomplish everything that is mentioned in the holy books.

It was only after he burnt himself as an innocent child who had forgotten his path that he, much later, was in a divinely destined position to part the Red Sea and bring his people to their unique salvation.

Not before.

*** 

I can relate to some of that.

***

Which parts of your forgetful Self now need to be burnt for Me before you can be raised to the level of Moses and part your own Red Sea on your way to liberation?

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?