2020 was the year of many heroes. There were holes everywhere in the thinning amnesic membrane. The the human species had lathered it on thick this time. What a mess we were making. It was not a pretty time. It was an exciting time. There, whether seen through the translucent thinning membrane or through rawness of direct vision from the holes, all potential for the bright cohesive collective that was to be, gathered. It was a grand and uneasy time. I joined the doormaker to help ease the light coming through the holes and give choice to the apertures openings. I say this was an exciting time because humanity was regaining their sight back. We were growing the 2020 eyesight with 360 degree vision once again. The Doormaker Guild was able to help bring the chaos into a focused Beauty. Slowly the people of this time stopped calling themselves crazy. The simple act of writing this history in my room in the library has me feeling that quivering. It is goosebumps everywhen. They shake and ripple along the river of my many lives.
Slowly we the people of this time, stopped calling ourselves crazy. Many helping spirits whispered the most Beautiful songs to help us. It was this wash of song that held us in a sanity while this thick unsightly membrane broke and we birthed. Again a ripple. I am quivering at the sightly Beauty growing in this period. I forgot what the elders called this phase? My life in this time during it's later years came to know the excitement of resistance. Montana would take it as a cue into action. She knew through fire and I knew because of her, that one step action dissipated the dread. She knew helping attractors would come in to birth multiple paths of growth. It was a difficult birth for the collective soul. Perhaps because of our stubborn resistance to letting go of the wrapping of ignorance to the many realities, we gained a trumpeting song to the helpers of heaven. The doormakers were not the only style of hero to step humanity into seeing the deepening light. There's a place of light that dances with color and affords us stability in the expansion of our collective heart. I say it was a time of heroes because that's what it took for those who had already lived lives in heaven to not only return, but step out with sovereign feet.
The word door is a common symbol to give individuals an action into their own Souls light. It is a path so each may unwrapped from their membrane of amnesia. On the side past death, it is really not so much a door but that which holds ease. I love the last half of Montana's life. It strengthens my other lives. She is a gentle power for the whole of us to smooth the edges of our lives. As she worked from her bright Soul beyond the dark night of this collective shock, she walked in a sovereign ease.
Oh sweet Jesus it was not easy to open my door. When I did is when I started to sleep with an image of the Elephant under my pillow. I imagine from an amnesiac looking in, my life looks simple and mundane. I find that to be a good mask to wear when working with any life thickly coated in unsightfulness. Several days ago I walked to the mulberry tree to shake it's berries onto a cloth. I did not connect then that I was singing a songline across the heart expanse into this action, into this space where I pray with the three sisters and radishes I am gardening. Bees like I have never seen on this farmland before come in to buzz around my feet in the clover as I shook the tree. Perhaps I did not look so mundane in the eyes of those unseeing ones of the many realities. I imagine I looked like some simpleton sitting in her PJ's laughing in the middle of the flowering clovers. I knew then that the soil from the farming lands here would be healthy again.
Let me tell you this short story of a ritual of pulling up weeds and taking down a fence in the horses field...
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