As I awaken, I immediately engage the Dispenza meditation, breathing into the space around my form and continually invoking surrender to What Is, to the processes that must be done to change the emotional state of the body as an axis of manifestation.
Despite the resentment, I recognized the impressions moving through Evon, Jaclyn and others as coming from the Universe, suggesting acceptance and surrender to the process.
I could feel fear, tightness, anger, all sorts of emotions within my field, all of which I knew were constricting the flow of prana through my body and crunching my attempts to manifest. I could feel the storm of rage and indignation, of feeling unrequited, hammering from within.
Beneath it, in the core, I sense the olde wound. The rage against the machine. The disgust with being in a circumstance where we are all demanded to do this process, demanded to invoke gratitude as a modifier, demanded to do subconscious clearing, to fend against the vibrations of the old paradigm, to endlessly forgive, accept, and ‘focus on the positive’ as a means of extracating oneself from the realms of scarcity. Where, because of the nature of What currently Is, one is forced to do the practices in order to shift realities.
It is what I have always hated and resisted. The environment which demands the process. That which, for all of my attainments and magics, I have been in conflict with. That which I MUST surrender to and accept, for without the constant process (and the mastery of mind that such requires), the reality will not change, despite the vastness of the Value I embody.
As I hold my attention on it, things unveil. I see again how first the ignorance and then blatant unacceptance of the human plane and what is required here have prevented me from holding onto the functions of this place. The cooking, the cleaning, the necessities of material existence. How in my grievance with the Creation, I have been unwilling, and thus unable, to hold onto what occurs for me as repetitive mundanities, wanting something more akin to the liminal space from whence i’d come.
There is a sensation in the field.
Right on cue, Satya sends me a message, inquiring about when we shall have the rent and wanting to have a conversation. Across the sea, Boggie needs the money he lent me. A wave of helplessness moves through, and I breathe through that, returning to the feeling-tone of gratitude and expansion as best I can, holding the space.
Breathing a tone of sheer disgust for the human experience out of my body, I invoke surrender again, wrinkling my nose in distaste, like inhaling a whiff of rotting flesh. I recognize once again that I must force myself into gratitude for it as a modifier to the tightness, convincing my body of a new emotion to prove the laws of manifesation and reach the realms of prosperity at last.
A wave of despair goes through me, wondering if it shall ever be more pleasant to exist in this plane, yet I continue.It isn’t easy, requiring that I abstract myself from the circumstances of the now and hold the vision, convincing myself that the necessity of paying the rent wasn’t the issue, and that I had to hold the feeling-tone, tracking it to the caverns of my form. That by holding that resonant vibration, identifying with the space, that I will have access to the ideas and inspirations to take action towards my goal of sovereignty and prosperity, where I am met at last by my fellows and expanding together.
It is so difficult. The sense of helplessness is so strong. While I know I am not helpless and are in fact very capable and strong, it pulls at me. An old feeling, an old emotion within the body that has outlived it’s usefulness.
Intentionally, I remind myself of the accomplishments of the Mythica, the manifestation of the temple, the increase in the octaves of the healing arts and my awareness, using the reminders of the physics of the quest and the rules of the road to manage the energetic state.
And so I breathe. Feeling open the space of the Heart. Intentionally invoking gratitude for the experience I wanted to have, holding that within the consciousness.
I breathe again, feeling that in order to have the inspiration that leads to the action I have to hold a particular vibrational texture, taking charge of the fields within, and jump back into the process. The tightness in my chest reflects, and I continue the focus, engaging the mindfulness again.
There is a sense of resolve. No matter what happens, i’ve done what I intended to do, created a way of documentinga and applying the journey to another manifestation. Beneath the circumstance, there is an ever-more clarified visceral sense of the textures within and how they affect one’s very access to ideas. I see the WHY of gratitude and visualization. I see, clearly, the Value of my own embodiment and that of the Mythica, even if I have not consistently had access to how to deliver that goodness to the World.
If anything, such is a clear object lesson – that the Value and Grace can be present, yet blocked by the feeling-tones within the self which limit the access of the self and of ‘others’ in the field. Recognizing this, once again I invoke surrender and acceptance to the necessary processes to free oneself from the chains of limitation.
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