By Catherine Viel, September 11, 2021
(Golden Age of Gaia)
September 10, 2021
The thousand hairline cracks in an aged face
match the hairline cracks in an aged cup
and come from similar insults…
Yet happiness might crack a face open
in a better way: hairline tracery as laugh lines
releasing the joys of ancient thoughts
cupped into use, and suddenly able.
~Molly Peacock, A Face, a Cup
Much as I’d prefer to avoid experiencing anger (or its progenitor, fear), there are circumstances that absolutely infuriate me. All the more so because there seems to be nothing I can do about them.
And then, salt upon the wound, my patchwork spiritual awareness flaps its ragged flag. You cannot change things, you can only change yourself. What you see outwardly is only a reflection of your inward self. It’s all karma and soul contracts anyway. And so on.
Sometimes this self-talk helps a little bit. But really, mostly, not.
It’s a bit like having a deep, abiding thirst, and being handed a cracked cup from which all the water has drained out.
The circumstance is certainly what caused the water to drain away. My rudimentary understanding of spiritual principles would have me smile serenely and accept the broken cup with gratitude, even as I slowly perish of thirst.
*****
Blossom Goodchild‘s recent channeling has stirred up my sleeping sense of fury. I am reminded of how badly the cup has been cracked, and how abidingly thirsty I am.
The Federation of Light notes:
You don’t work as you should. …[You] strive (mostly) to keep [your physical bodies] running as clockwork. We use the word ‘strive’ because this is what it has to do.
In actual fact there should be no striving…
Again, due to all that is…put into / absorbed by…your bodies that are not of benefit, much effort to keep ‘life’ flowing is required.
So much has been administered to you in ways of much sneakiness, and in doses that can not be traced, until there is enough to do damage. The functioning of your physicality…we mean all that is part of it…all that make up your physical human form…is no longer as it was designed.
No wonder “life is hard.” Simply trying to safely feed and hydrate ourselves is a minefield of mostly invisible hazards.
*****
And then there’s 9/11.
My mind goes blank. What can I say that hasn’t already been said? Until 2018 I wasn’t even aware that 9/11 apparently didn’t happen as we’d been led to believe.
Instead, it seems it was orchestrated to prevent an outflow of beneficence and abundance from being distributed to humanity at large.
Because humanity at small, that tiny group of humans (and others?) who control things, didn’t want to relinquish control.
I only stumbled upon this alternative, but now (I believe) increasingly mainstream, information regarding 9/11 when I read through the Accountability archives of Golden Age of Gaia. I think it took a week to recover from that discovery, aka red pill.
The recovery time wouldn’t have been required if I had brushed it off as some lunatic fringe theory and simply gone about my life believing what I used to believe.
However, it seems that Spring of 2018 was when I was meant to open the time capsule of my awareness.
*****
I wish I had the world‘s biggest bottle of superglue to mend the crack in that cup, so that it would hold the life-sustaining water we all need. So that beneficence and abundance could be tenderly cradled in the divine cup of light, and spilled joyously over, splashing us all with warmth and love.
Probably not within my realm of capability. At least, not at this moment.
As always, it boils down to what I can personally do for myself, my family, my community.
I can carefully clean that beautiful cup, get out my bottle of spiritual superglue, and apply a strong line of love, intention, sovereignty, and divinity to the ragged brokenness I encounter in my own life.
My mended cup can hold the pure, clear water I so thirst for.
Such a small gesture. But in that gesture resides the peace I seek.
