SHE’s been playing with this title for a couple of days now. One version was The Optimal Surfing of Stillness. We’ll get there. But, first, in this window of Everyone’s Every Kind of Karma Up in Our Face, it’s good to take a breath or three and Calm. Down.

What we need most is what we most often deny ourselves. Why? We set things up that way to learn about what we are from attempting to be what we’re not.

All self-denial is birthed from our original imprint {original separation from Source} carried through in our causal bodies {the structures that come with us from incarnation to incarnation} and re-interpreted into every incarnation as some kind of separation fear/anxiety, which then turns into pathological denial and acting out. When we choose a Source-driven life or Enlightenment, in rare cases, the next steps are the dismantling of all that jazz and releasing ourselves into the Oneness, from which we will be called forth in our true natures. The mechanisms we’ve used to manifest this design are extraordinary in their complexities… and quite simple at their root. One root. One cause. That of feeling separate from Source. An impossibility we’ve chosen to manifest. And you thought pushing a boulder uphill was a challenge!

It’s an odd thing, the current cave experience. For the uninitiated, a ‘cave experience’ is, or perhaps was, an ancient initiation into Enlightenment. The monk in question is sealed into a cave with a limited amount of food and water, and sometimes a candle. More often, not. The initiate was left in isolation to meditate/teleport him/herself out of the cave, or die. It was the very definition of a ‘final test.’

When one experiences a classic ‘dark night of the soul,’ it mirrors the cave experience, but in consciousness. Transformation happens from the inside out, regardless of physical circumstances. The cave experience is a morph-in-place in what people call the ‘real world.’ {The one that will never be the same.}

Yesterday my housemate followed the path of hurricane Laura via some news station or other. I noticed every time I walked through the room that the fear vibe pouring out of the TV had intensified. At one point the reports even went so far as to predict “unsurvivable” storm surges whose effects might travel 40 miles inland.

The drama dredged up a few memories of other such storms. I remembered another hurricane, decades ago in Boston. Fierce winds, lashing rain, some trees down, and the power was out for a couple of days. I remembered meditating through the worst of it, opening my eyes occasionally to a particularly strong gust rattling my windows. I was going through an intense time and the cleansing power of the storm was glorious.

Last night, after feeling that things were not going to be as bad as advertised, I meditated and went to sleep.

Storms fascinate me, as they mirror locally held collective consciousness.