Losing All That Was

As we remember, some things become joyous beyond imagining. Some things bring us to tears that may or may not be understood. Witnessing bifurcations within or without can be devastating. This morning, my body sheds sadness like Niagara Falls. For the past few days, I have witnessed an energetic separation of the kind I thought had passed. That seems to be the way of the dredging that is making way for what is shifting. Massive endings. Openings for new light.

A choice was made through me not to attend an event. It was the correct choice for my alignment. I have not second-guessed it. And, once the event had happened, others involved dropped completely out of my sphere. The silence was both wonderful and weird. I have been sitting with the change. Then, last night, I was sent photos of a second event and understood. Choices have been made in every dimension. I no longer inhabit the worlds of this body’s blood family, nor have I for some time, and last night was the last uprooting of all leftovers of negative merging. What is negative merging? Patterns we cleave to, and allow to keep running, though they do not suit our resonance. My physical body is greatly relieved. My emotional aspect is saddened, and not for the reasons one might imagine. It has to do with choices. It has always had to do with choices.

For the past three years, there have been ‘last this-and-that’ celebrations for my father, who is Scotland-The-Brave-ing living with congestive heart failure. If you know, you know. A more stubborn, stoic Scot never drew breath, unless it was his father, my Grandpa Mac. In a photo from the birthday dinner, the Bruce looked just like the Mac. Most Scottish grandfathers are ‘Mac’, as you may know, in the same way as “tous les chats sont gris.” There are cultural norms at which we chuckle kindly, until they, too, fade away.

What was as clear as it has ever been, and then some, were the choices that have been made. It has long saddened me that my parents’ choice to follow a spiritual path evolved over time into following culturally available dogmatic positions while raging against them at the same time. From my perspective, a cringeworthy waste of energy. “So, Why saddened?” I asked myself. Why should the choices of another make me sad? Another’s path is truly none of my business and certainly not my responsibility. There is a tear in the eye of the Buddha, certainly, and it is never optimal to dwell in that tender place lest it morph into a worship of what could have been.

Here is the rub, for many of us, as empaths. We care. We see that another path, many other paths, might be chosen, and yet they are not. As Feelers and Seers, we would choose differently for another, usually because the path we know is staring ‘them’ in the face could hold so much more joy, balance, and wonder. And yet…and yet…it is ours to choose for our experiences only, and no other.

So many have walked away from what has been offered through me. It makes me laugh. That is as it is. Tenderness can be perceived as threatening in this world. I, too, have felt it so, though my body’s consciousness always knew differently. We live as we choose.

Everyone is here to learn what they are here to learn, the way they are here to learn it. Sometimes what comes through me can facilitate remembering and/or timeline jumps. Sometimes the opportunity is cast away. A healer I once worked with sighed, “Sometimes I feel like I’m dragging dead bodies behind me…” I have never felt that way, but I hear the sentiment. The buying into the family track, the worship of the wounding… the internal dishonesty that things have been surrendered while defenses are still active. All good lessons. I have lived some of those patterns. I am no Saint, though I blushingly admit that I have had moments of aspiration thereto. Silly rabbit! A truth I have embraced and embodied is that “it is not about ‘me’.” And yet… the heart breaks open at what might have been for some. The heart breaks open… as it must do if we are to navigate this shift.

Last night, two of my younger siblings, my father, and his new lady celebrated his birthday as he entered his 97th year of life. He misquoted the toast. It was a recording thereof that brought me to tears. Bless him. The words made me both cringe and cry. Such a testament to what he has chosen to believe. And such a gift to those in a reality to which I have said “goodbye.”

“And as they believe, so it is for them…” ~ attributed to Sananda, in an embodied Christ Consciousness moment.

What do you allow yourself to believe… still? Remember, a belief system is a thought pattern with perceived benefit to the believer. Only that, nothing more. And yet, beliefs shape our lives. A non-judgmental inventory can be beneficial at this time.

Most do not realize that when ‘everything changes,’ that includes everything they know and believe themselves, and life, to be. It is challenging enough for those of us who know! It is also challenging to see how tightly most cling to their bubbles of belief. Thus the tear.

Compassion can take many forms and is aided in its manifestation by a dollop of dispassion. This balance is often misperceived by those to whom it is directed.

Preparers of the way is what Starstreams most often incarnate to be. Sometimes we know. Sometimes we must remember.

Being ‘a way’ while knowing that there is no ‘one way’ has been quite the adventure. May it bear luscious, delicious fruit.

Infinite love ~