A bit of poison had just passed through me. A few caustic clouds surrounding an "issue" had just been burnt off; and I'd felt those clouds and the impurities that formed them . . . churning. And I felt for Mother Earth, felt what our lack of knowledge and our greed had done and was doing to her. Yikes! The way we treat the planet, the impurities we cast into her atmosphere (both material-wise and thought-and deed-wise), and I knew the human body could not escape this ignorance. I knew as well (Master J's teachings), that our 4D journey/mission/adventure would bring round some of these impurities, and that we would not be entirely free from their effects: the effects of the lower Astrals—yes ?
'FIND ME!' (I hear you!)
"—oh! the lower-astral Plane of 4D, where divided against themselves the thoughts and deeds of men manifest as illusion—those rabid, distorted, knotted, self-made reflections, not of themselves, trying to return home to their creator, man. No, even the little light we put into our lesser-thoughts ('FALSE IMAGES!') and selfish-deeds is trying to return home; the little light scarcely enough to sustain the illusion, not enough pure light SEEDED within our lesser-thoughts/deeds to make them creative beyond the point of reflection. And so, not being able to reach through to the higher planes-of-form to create Beauty ('A BEAUTY which would then cycle back round TO APPEAR before man on his path!'), the light cloaked in illusion returns to us—to face us—hoping we will see to dissolve the illusion and set spirit free . . ."
For Wyl and I, I knew, ours would be a search for this seed, for any tidbit of light within the 4D world-of-illusion specific to us and our journey and mission—an illusion that the lower-Astrals would indeed confront us with, on our adventure, as we searched our situations for solutions. And there'd be knowledge and power required to reach a "capacity" that could then command love through the illusion to find its own. A knowledge and a power I didn't as yet fully have. But I was building power (Dear God, I sure hope so), and by going through the process internally, I was beginning to understand more the vibration. Mentally, I was beginning to perceive things more clearly. I was beginning to realize.
I knew now why I'd waked-up (—waked-up? "That little kid, Doe?") feeling burnt-out and bound to the third dimension. The reason being that there was work still to be done HERE with some of Dorothy's memories. Mentally? Well . . . mentally midmorning I had tried but failed. It was like I had tried mentally to summon some elusive memory as if it were some long ago, long-past, picture-postcard memory (—say what? "A metaphor, Dorothy?"), and maybe mentally I got the card up, midmorning; but there was no picture there! Only blank space. I did try! But mentally I couldn't access the memory, and mentally I became exhausted. Time-out.
A knock at the door. Tree. She marched right on in and asked me if I needed anything. I shook my head, no. She looked at me weird, said: "Are you okay?" I grabbed my jotter and pencil, made my hand shake a little, wrote: 'I think I'm going mental!' and handed it to her.
"You're not the only one." She handed me the jotter and gave me the look: "So . . . did I interrupt anything?" I raised a brow. Tree, still prying. "Too bad we can't talk," she said. "I guess I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing." She turned and left. (Yeah, too bad, Tree. I guess. But thanks.)
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So . . . mentally I had failed midmorning. The cause my doubt no doubt. But doubt or no, the little light, spirit, within that elusive memory ('FIND ME!'), like it always does, cycled round, knocked at my door, and got my emotional-body involved. And that's when things started to look up. That's when I started to feel again! And, as I understand it now, when finally I did get hold of it emotionally, it was like NO-TIME for that creative-blue-crayon memory and my lost innocence. The trapped energy. It's still alive! The trapped energy—my innocence—still alive in my past and here in my waking world. FIND ME! And beyond a shadow of doubt, the gone-missing teachings, logged during Sleeptime (two Sleeptimes), will soon be needed by my intuition in the waking state. They're in there. The teachings are. (They'd better be!)
(And Sleeptime had better give them up!)
But the time displacement? My waking up mid-morning? According to past patterns, my return from Dreamtime should have been instant. It wasn't. Those high Dreamtime-energies, mixing it up with those lower-astral noxious clouds which came up during the process of cloaking must've sent me reeling! Unfamiliarities then, those higher and lower powers descending over me during cloaking (both, in the mix together), must've taken a toll and sent me into a deep and necessary regenerative state. Sleeptime. I'd needed sleep, though I didn't realize it at the time, and, I think so, Grandmother's powerful vibration, running before me, had sent my gifts . . . I don't know . . . to some other deep place within me, where they were needed. My gifts of birth were key. I knew that. And I knew, too, that if not now, soon I would need to use my gifts to generate movement, to bring to mind through the seven portals of being all and everything surrounding the blockage (FIND ME!), the fears, the hurt, the pain, the doubt, all of my tainted conditionings (—that's gonna be a whole lot of shattering), and any potential that may have been laid waste.
"Okay, so let's get back to Dorothy and her decaying process: 'the ashes—'" God, but doesn't that sound morbid? But it's true! The Fires of Love have raised me from the ashes, but The Fires, through their just cause, have also forged all my recorded cellular-unworth into one large blockage "—and I've met the need to integrate Grandmother's and Master J's teachings. I've accessed and finally felt the feelings I was consciously having after waking up, heard their story, and have at least got back that childhood memory. But why a little boy? Do I need to go further? Maybe dig a little deeper, in order to access the teachings (mere inklings of teachings!) within those elusive Sleeptimes still beyond my awareness?"
'FIND ME!'
Just where was it I went that I couldn't remain conscious? "What is still unnerving me?" Had fourth dimensional energy-influx (it was moulding me) been too intense to feel, and therefore to realize? And could that influx have come from "the veil" which separates 3D and 4D but touches and infuses both? Or from beyond the veil? I don't know. Maybe something far deeper than a cellular (blue-crayon) memory is returning to me now, seeking consciousness. Maybe a Deep Memory which requires more than feeling alone or mind alone: but essentially feeling and knowledge and intent and the gifts of birth and risk and action (and what not more)—in order to access it? Sleeptime (plural) held within it some sort of timely message with reference to my transformation, didn't it? It would help, wouldn't? When the time was right? And wouldn't I have to remain fully conscious in the dream-state? Soon? (Or sooner?) "Surely I will need to acquire this ability, full blown, full power, the ability to remain fully awake in the realm of my new existence—" Awakened to the Dream, my dream, God's Dream! "—or yield to Old Dorothy and maybe to death!"
Settling down, a deep breath, I turned my concerns inward toward my heart space. There I felt shadows lurking—the stuffs of memory trying to come clear. Some Deep Memory was in there, all right. Sure it was. I could sense it. I could smell it it was so close. "It," of course, being part and parcel and purposeful to Dorothy's childhood-conditionings and her long-lost innocence returning to me baby-step by baby-step as l continued through the process, looking in, in order to reclaim it. (Process, process, process. [Sigh.] Step by step. Looking in:) 'Involution before evolution—'
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[Mmm, it's time again. The perfect time. A quick tea while Dorothy and Alaya head into perhaps a most unfavorable part of their adventure—though there IS innocence to be found. Yes, they need to have themselves a chat; and I need to hear what they have to say. What better way to listen-in than with a tea in hand?