Since I moved to Grass Valley I’ve been thrashing about. I don’t know how else to describe it; I’ve been unexpectedly restless and wanting to knock down walls without even knowing what walls I felt limited by. I was surprised to feel so constrained; from many vantage points, I have a lot of freedom. Eventually I realized I was trying to knock down some inner walls and limitations–old conditioned restraints I didn’t know were still in operation. So I set about that task energetically. These shifts can be made very quickly now because there is no matrix holding us in enslavement patterns. It’s only our own mind that holds that illusion in place. In spite of feeling most of the walls come down, I felt constrained. I could–and can still–palpably FEEL the density of some of “my” creations in the etheric, but am not seeing them manifest physically. “What the hell is going on here?” I asked my team, less than politely. I’ve been waiting for the response.
A long time ago–I don’t remember when now–I told my team that if they wanted to really impress a message upon me that they would have to give me three signs. It’s too easy to doubt one sign alone, particularly if I have even a hair’s-breadth of attachment to any given outcome. So the “rule of three” is my personal gold standard.
I had a dream right before I woke up this morning.
I was driving to some kind of party that I wasn’t very excited about attending, but I had promised to bring some essential supplies so I “had” to be there. (In general I don’t like parties. I’d rather have dinner with close friends and dance in the kitchen, but that’s an aside.) Anyway, I hopped in the car and started driving.
The route seemed to take forever and eventually the roads got narrow and rocky and then there was no road at all. In spite of this, somehow I knew where I was going. Eventually I came upon an impossibly large canyon. I didn’t panic; I just flew over it in my car and landed on another patch of rocky soil, never intended to be a road. I drover further until I arrived at my destination. In order to get to the party I had to walk through a huge, grassy field, which was quite beautiful, then traverse an indescribably large–and precariously-hung–tarp which was strung across yet another chasm. When I reached the end of the tarp, I had to slide down a ladder many thousands of feet of direct vertical drop. Again I wasn’t scared. I landed on my feet on another beautiful grassy field.
The landscape and scenery were lush and sparkling–a grand party was being constructed on a waterfront. Everything was bedecked with flowers and trees and lights; no effort was spared. There were tents and stages and dance floors and dining rooms in various stages of completion. But the party hadn’t started yet. The caterers and thousands of other party assistants were still organizing and preparing. I knew many other friends were going to be there but it didn’t appear any of them had made it yet, so I just hung out. Eventually a friend appeared. “Have you been here long?” I asked. “A while,” she replied. “I’ve been waiting in the meditation tent.” I smiled because that was her style and her vehicle. She meditated her way here.
As I stood talking with her I noticed other “early arrivals” driving up through a massive porte-cochère. Some were arriving in limousines and had enjoyed a more comfortable, but less (shall we say) adventurous ride to our shared destination.
Then I woke.
As I was making coffee I read a Matt Kahn quote that a friend had posted. It was Matt’s response to someone who was ill and not “healed” yet. His response was almost identical to the message of my dream. The timing of her healing was in perfect order, was going to happen no matter what, just not at that moment, so why not relax and be gentle with herself? She wasn’t doing anything wrong.
I smiled and then asked the guides–knowing the answer before they even responded. “Why did I take such a bumpy journey? Why did I traverse ground no one else had crossed and navigate deep chasms?”
“How else would you have had such a great adventure and remembered that you can fly?”
The final message also came via the the great oracle of Facebook. I glanced at my “memories.” On this day, 7 years ago, my last “formal” teacher had written a note to me. It read:
“We all have that space of pain that comes before yearning and magic, almost like the stillness before rain storm–thick, heavy, still, no air; even the bug people do not speak. The tree leaves just wait. Grass stand together, but alone, each blade, waiting. Then, as Chogyam says, ‘breeze of delight’ sweeps the world and all beings give a big sigh, then smile.
“Thank you. You are my breeze of delight.”
After the third sign appeared I heard these words clearly:
How do you know you’re truly free?
When you even trust limitation.
We are always truly where we need to be. It matters not if you are still on the road to the party, if you have a flat tire, if you’ve missed your ride, or if you’ve arrived before the festivities. The party is your destiny, as is the journey. We cannot miss a thing.
If you look for me, you’ll find me dancing in the kitchen with friends.