349: My Humaness

three women

I am not told what to do by my angels or given exact directions. I have free will. There are no guidelines, specifics, or deadlines given. No pressure at all. No time at all, really, as time seems to stand still with them, as if they could pour a thousand memories into me with the touch of a raindrop.

They show me coincidences all the time, too. Simple easy things, that don’t rock my world, as their intention is not to jolt or hurt or alarm. There is a gentle easiness to them, an ever-lasting presence that wraps me up in the comforting current of eternal and unconditional love.

I hear them, yes, but not in an out-of-this-world way; there isn’t thunder or chiming bells, or even the air of wings fluttering, only this gentle nudge of images and knowing. If I had to choose a word that connects the most, I would use the word telepathic. But even this found word leaves out so much of what actually transpires. There is healing warmth without heat. There is music without instrument. There is knowing without understanding. It is an injection of memories without memories.

I cannot describe the experience, and that is okay.

There is nothing I can attach to the connections that could be labeled “negative.” Nothing comes from what they “whisper” that doesn’t become truth. Just as nothing comes from them that doesn’t heal. I can’t create any aspect of the experience into anxiety or fear. And even when I speak of them, I am guided and bathed in healing light.

I have been told that the only way for me to heal is to continually connect to them. But this message hasn’t been given to me by force or in threat. I have been gently molded into this truth and made aware of this truth in my own time and reasoning, a path of connection, they have ever so softly allowed me to find on my own.
Though guided, they guide me not. Though reminded, they remind me not. As there is no attachment, no release. Perhaps it is union. No less, no more than me, and as one we walk. Yes, union seems fitting. But not “right.” As there is no right or wrong.

I am perfectly divine and perfectly okay in their eyes. They lift me to the beauty of me and hold me when I weep. Over and over they hold me as I weep. Their signs are everywhere, continually. They give me hints of what my day will be through my dreams and through my waking hours. I see symbols and lock onto images. Distinct words come to mind that will then materialize in form later in the day.

This all seems so natural now, that I forget sometimes that my world is not everyone’s world. However, where there used to be confusion and clutter in experience, there is not. This just is. This is the way I sense what is not beyond but what is. My eyes beyond eyes witness, and I am accepting that when they are closed, I suffer.

With each thought and choice, I am learning to question is this for the service of Holy Spirit, with each word I am beginning to see the extreme potential and power of the words themselves. I am understanding all of this rapidly. I know not why, and I am releasing this needing to know, this needing to do anything but be.

I struggle. I struggle internally and externally with pain at all levels. I struggle with the knowledge that somewhere a part of me knows essentially how to release this pain, yet it still lingers. And then I forgive myself for not being “there” yet, as there is no “there,” and there is no time. I get this. I see this.

Walking in this world, while seeing so much, is daunting. Even as I know fear as the invisible nothing, that doesn’t even qualify as nothing, I still feel this illusion. And even as I know the key is in unconditional love of others, and in turn the love of illusion of self, I still feel what would seem the opposite of unconditional. I still am human.

And this is my deepest struggle: my humaness.

As I am somehow connected to this universal light, whether this be the collective unconscious or Holy Spirit, or combination, but I remain this broken, frail, doubting spirit. Yet, they soothe me still, with even these thoughts, reminding me that I am as I am for reason. And they show me in a flash the way. And I am understood in completion.

Even so, to be this self is difficult—to hold this pain and not know where to find release. But yet at the same time to willingly and whole-heartedly want this pain. To sacrifice for the light they have and see in me. To sacrifice self and happiness to be what they see in me. Such beauty. And with this beauty I am able to see to the core of you, to the core of another; so simply and purely all shine.

I don’t know what the future holds, but am certain I am already there in completion smiling at this self I think I am now. I harbor these truths, and I carry them openly, not for me, and not for you, but for all. For I am not, and you are not without the other.

And still I weep. I weep inside exceedingly doubtful and scared. A frightened child wondering if all is a dream I invented. And if so, where to find escape, how to wake up, how to wake you up, too, so we both may breathe in the new day that is yet to come, but still exists.

The Box
I am
an unopened box
I sit sealed
I am also
Outside of the box
When the box is opened
And I emerge
I am nothing
I am
Indeed the box itself
And in opening the box
I see again
Another self
Staring at another box
Unopened
But who is it that sees
Who is it that opens
And who will be the last
To find nothing

~ In Peace and Love
Sam

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11 thoughts on “349: My Humaness

  1. Amazing, I love the poem… & the huge waves of transcendental awareness that flows in you & trough you, in others. You have a beautiful existence, with all the inner struggles which helps you to climb the stair to heaven. God bless you!

  2. This poem reminds me of my poem called “The Box” on my blog.

    This post was really interesting because I have had weird coincidences that have come up repeatedly and it can be hard not let them dictate what will happen next and just let it happen. I think you’re better at it than I am

  3. Very special to read this. I have never heard another say these things that I feel inside. I am held when I weep and I’m not sure if its Holy Spirit or angel, but it feels like angel. I am in so much pain within and without so much of the time that I despair of life often but when I ask to be held or to have their arms around me it is always there. I work in LA in a high rise office building and it terrifies me to be around so many people but they make it perfectly OK and peaceful when I ask. I used to be so angry as being AS and being in pain around people and in pain when alone. Now I have so much peace. This is fairly recent, as I was pretty much at war with my Creator up until the middle of last year over the mistake made with my creation. Now I realize it gives me a channel of intimacy that others who are not driven by the same terrible pain cannot ever have. So I am grateful. I am actually elderly and yet I am beginning to feel like I did as a kid before all the social pain overwhelmed me and I needed to escape into alcohol. I ride a motor cycle and they ride with me. One on each side flying along. Sometimes I ask where they would like to go and what they would like to see and I get a sense of it. I often wonder why they put up with me and what they see in me, and I know they are there at the Holy Spirit’s direction, but your discussion gives some wonderful answers. I never thought they would see in me something other than the broken child I feel myself to be. Thanks for sharing your wonderful thoughts. I am not to the place where I can think like you do toward the world around me. It still seems so allen and frightening. But I can see the progress toward that place. It’s where I want to be before I leave this rock. Cheers.

    1. Please forgive me for taking so long to comment. I remember reading your words weeks ago and wanting to respond…and then being pulled away and distracted. But the treat is I get to read them again tonight. Your heart is so evident and clear; and you are truly blessed. What a marvelous way you are walking in the world; thank you for sharing your generous heart.

  4. My Angel’s name is Jack, and he never even gets upset at me that I ignore him for endless periods of time. I think I will look for him tomorrow, I know he will be there.

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