The Devil Lived Backwards

Why does the idea of hell persist?

Jesus met with the devil in the Bible, and was tested three times. What is the truth of this? Who is this devil exactly? If evil is living backwards, must one just rearrange their thoughts and actions to change the alchemy of their being. Is every one who lives backwards a devil, and simply one choice away from heaven?

It appears my Grandmother Lewis got married when she was pregnant with my aunt. It's impossible to know now (or maybe not with science being what it is) but I can't help but wonder if my grandma's husband, my grandfather, is the father of my Auntie Anne. And I wonder all of this only because I have the sense my grandma Lewis hasn't moved on to the light. I feel like she may cling to me, and wonder if she latches onto my energy in a way to avoid her divinity.

I know this is a strange and fanciful thought.

My sister Sara believes that Grandma moved on to heaven, stating that Grandma was religious and made pilgrimages to Jerusalem and other holy sites. I have a ring from one of these trips--I will find it and wear it.

So so so much of life is unknown. Discernment is needed. Looking inward, nebulous. I find I must return to the energetic awakening I had seven years ago--my prostate form on the floor, buzzing and expansive and the knowing, the knowing! that I Am Huge, and beautiful, and the universe. I must remember crying out over and over "I didn't know" and "I will hold God's people in my heart." I know if this moment was commonplace it would lose power, so I resign myself to remember the memory of it when I wonder if I Am fanciful and dramatic. When looking at the lives of saints and mystics, it seems to be a pattern; a few wondrous moments of revelation sparsely scattered throughout a life where the human endeavors to embody the wisdom and joy. The pain is in the loss of momentary certainty that fleetingly visits the dreamer.

It appears that some poets revisit the experience in nature and become expert at finding echoes of divinity in the daily experience. My guides seem to wish this for me. My moments come in my dreams, when I look into a dream beings eyes and See, truly See, that they are real and sentient. Impossible to prove, which seems to speak to another lesson my guides seem to keep in my awareness--pride and humility. Any awareness is not earned, not achieved. It may be marveled at, but not exploited. Sigh. I wonder how Pride and Humility have played out in my past lives.

Past lives. Progress made.

So often I dream of schools and plays and amusement parks. When will I get it through my thick skull that life on Earth is about experience? Why does life on Earth not inspire Passion in Me?

Dreams

Visions

Orbs

Insights

Wisdom

Past lives

Energy Healing

These are what inspire passion. Where does that all fit in to my story? How can these interests ignite Love in me? The idea that there is more pecks at me. How can I open up that truth to heal the people? I court inspiration. I court grace.

The devil doesn't have to be defeated, the devil needs to be redirected. The letters need to rearranged--the components are the same, it is the composition that is faulty. Sweet alchemy. Let me Love you, Devil. Let me look into your eyes and remind you what you are made of. We share the same ingredients--we are made of the same stuff. Put down your mantel; abandon this track. Do not simply follow in the footsteps of past choices. I see you. You do not fool me, Friend. I will not leave you orphaned. You too will be raised up on the last day. And though genius lies in eternal patience. I offer you my hand now. I Am not greater than love. Love is not greater than me. People tell me of evil and darkness and I do not deny it exists, I simply desire to rearrange the letters of the words.

The people that walk in darkness have seen a great light. For those who dwell in dark and sin, a light has shown. For a child is born this day. Rejoice. Rejoice. Daughters of Zion awake. The glory of God is born.

I Am that child. You are that child. We All are that child.

So is it any wonder that I find apathy in the human ideas of accomplishment? I cling to Ronnie, who echoes love so perfectly--reflects my love. Why would I want to leave his arms? Do I dare to believe that I Am changing the world as I dream at night? That I Am enough. If there was a book to write, I would write it. A cause to champion,I would rally. A new idea to germinate and foster, I would plant it. I know I have the desire to be what I have committed to be, yet I have amnesia.

As in the Matrix, once the pill has been swallowed, there is no way to un-know. Once a certain milestone has been reached, the way behind the dreamer is no longer an option. All the knowing and security of the past is ripped away, and the baby dreamer finds herself swimming in a sea of yesterday's ideas, struggling for buoyancy and squinting into the path ahead, searching for companions who can help support the new Wisdoms, the new Possibilities. How many babies will it take, I wonder?

If I am still stuck and powerless in limiting beliefs, I ask for guidance now. I know I do not know much. I try to believe that I am not alone and that unseen beings are supporting me in my growth and journey. I call upon beings of light and love to remind me of my path, my Godly intention, and my power to love.

All is well. All is well. All is always well.

So mote it be and so it is.

Recipe

I Am not my thoughts

I Am not my emotions

My thoughts and emotions are vehicles for choice

My thoughts and emotions are proof that I Am free to create my life

My thoughts and emotions prove that I Am sovereign

I look to convention.

Why do we allow convention to enslave us?

We can see many versions of convention throughout this planet, these peoples.

Does that not in and of itself prove that convention is not absolute?

I seek the core of me

I seek the part untouched by convention

I Am tired of the me that swats away the unwelcome thoughts and emotions 

Annoy me gnats! 

Buzz in my ear and swarm my space

Create bumps and itchy patches

I will

Learn to celebrate what the pests reveal

Eat my herbs

Take from me what will not wake me

Gnaw me down to my truth, to my marrow

Reveal the bones of me

I do not want to be the clone who ignores the drone of the teacher

I know not where I Am in the process

And wishing does not make it so

But the desire is there

To be free without care

Of the opinion of both friend and of foe

Convention has proven to be boring

Borrowed ideas and thoughts and sad tales

Of how we choose to be sleeping

Never questioning, always judging, using scales

Karen, come out and bask in sunshine

Radiate the light that you are

Fear is a palpable illusion

It stunts the search for the star

That is you, within you, without you

The stuff you are made of is pure

Karen, seek the one asking the questions

She is the One who crafts the recipe, the cure.

And I ask myself again and again and again and again

Who would I be if I were perception free?

My power lies in my ability to gain.

Let go of the conventions, Sweet Karen.

Let go of the thoughts

Let go of the emotions

The grasp of a greedy hand is gangrene for your soul.

The one who I Am keens the song of sixpence

I mourn I am torn, forlorn, now born

Born into an old way to be

I’ve traveled so far

Seen green fields and star

A vague Remembrance of God’s perfect me

Sometimes on the stair I feel I am there

But then stair transforms into slide

I cry to be back

In the world full of lack

And rail and rant at my guides

Quiet, sweet Karen

We are versions of you

Teacher, Wise Woman, Mentor

If it was easy to see the you that is me 

There’d be no power in this cosmic detour

Beauty you say?

I hope for the day

Where suffering feels noble and true

For to me

It seems be

The power of we

Isn’t in this worn mournful tune

But like Jill and Jack

I combat the lack

And I patch up my bucket anew

For when one has the taste

For wisdom and grace

The water is an irresistible brew.

So the gnats circle my head

I allow them to be

And trust that I won’t miss the gift

If it’s here, then it’s so

What do I know?

I am on a vacation from me.