From The Archives: Winter Solstice ~ Beauty in The Darkness
FROM THE ARCHIVES (orig. published 12/20/20)
 |
| Milioni di Orvs ~ "Millions of Orbs" © photo by Shannon Taggart, Sardinia 2015 |
______________________________________
“In the midst of winter, I finally learned
that there was in me an invincible summer.”
“In the midst of winter, I finally learned
that there was in me an invincible summer.”
~ Albert Camus ~
The small mediumship circle that I sit with recently had some
development with the two trumpets that are a regular part of the sitting. We
always align them with specific positions where they rest on the floor, in a
way that shows a particular point on them faces direct North. This is to
associate them with the glass dome that rests on a table in the center of the
circle, and which holds 5 “Herkimer Diamond” quartz crystals, four of which are
aligned in a North/South/East/West configuration, while the larger, center crystal
is aligned with North/South. Although the trumpets have slightly moved before
in the quirky ways that Spirit likes to do, they have remained stationary for
many months. And lo! After the lights came on at the end of our last sitting,
we were startled to see that the trumpets had not only moved several inches
away from their positions, but each had rotated a perfect 45 degrees so that
they were now precisely facing East. Perceived more closely, their movement actually
outlines a small and gentle spiral. We have mused about this action for several
weeks now, wondering if this was some kind of message. My ponderings led me to a
long-forgotten reminiscence, which then led to this writing … so perhaps this
was our Spirit Team’s intention all along. Or at least part of it, for another
message always there is that Spirit moves in mysterious ways
I found myself immersed in one of my most cherished memories
of childhood Christmases—that of my grandmother playing and singing “Star of
The East” on the timeworn upright piano in her parlor. I was likely no more
than five years old. The fragrant scotch pine in the corner was alight with
large, old-fashioned bulbs, and wrapped in many narrow garlands of silver
tinsel that was made from actual tin. It was also encircled by strings of
popcorn and cranberries some of my cousins had made for it. Resting peacefully
on top of the piano was a tiny cardboard village of houses and a church with snow-capped
roofs, illuminated by tiny lights inside.
A medium herself—albeit a timid, reluctant one—my Grandma was completely untrained and couldn't read music, yet somehow just knew how to play the
piano with great accomplishment. She never had a voice lesson in her life either, but still sang with
complete abandon to the spirit of the song. I had never seen or heard this side
of her before, and became completely entranced by Spirit as she sang.
This shortbut enchanting video of a Mennonite family singing it at their kitchen
table comes close to capturing the sense of Spirit moving through voices raised
in song.
Star of
the East, Oh Bethlehem's star,
Guiding us
on to Heaven afar!
Sorrow and
grief and lull'd by thy light,
Thou hope
of each mortal, in death's lonely night!
Fearless
and tranquil, we look up to Thee!
Knowing
thou beam'st thro' eternity!
Help us to
follow where Thou still dost guide,
Pilgrims
of Earth so wide.
Star of
the East, un-dim'd by each cloud,
What tho'
the storms of grief gather loud?
Faithful
and pure thy rays beam to save,
Still
bright o'er the cradle, and bright o'er the grave!
|
Smiles of
a Saviour are mirror'd in Thee!
Glimpses
of Heav'n in thy light we see!
Guide us
still onward to that blessed shore,
After
earth's toil is o'er!
Star of
the East, thou hope of the soul,
While
round us here the dark billows roll,
Lead us
from sin to glory afar,
Thou star
of the East, thou sweet Bethlehem's star.
Oh star
that leads to God above!
Whose rays
are peace and joy and love!
Watch o'er
us still till life hath ceased,
Beam on,
bright star, sweet Bethlehem star!
|
~ Lyricist George Cooper, 1890.
Music Amanda Kennedy, 1883. ~
There has been an unprecedented amount of fear on this planet
for quite some time, especially this past year. This hymn soothes us with the
promise that the storms of grief cannot dim the promise of the Star of the
East, and that we can rest assured that our fears will fade and our hearts
return to the true tranquility that is the birthright of each and every person
on this planet.
Purposely focusing our consciousness into an increasing
mindless circling of fearful thinking will intensify the mindlessness and the
fear, a downward spiraling that takes us further and further away from the
light of pure, unafraid consciousness. This descent into mental darkness is not
only unnecessary, it is a denial of the Light, which is All There Is.
“Darkness” is but a misperception caused by certain beliefs that become the veils
we place or allow to be placed over our spiritual vision. Because we think we
cannot see anymore, we decide that we are “lost.”
And because we have also decided that we are powerless—another
belief of misperception—we allow ourselves to be pulled further into the
mindless darkness until we hit a kind of bottom, where we black out in some
psychospiritual way. “Psychospiritual” means inwardly and privately
experienced, but not necessarily outwardly, physically observable. The
misperception, a “mis-seeing” has often been referred to as “sin”—a word whose
roots mean “missing the target.” Not just missing the bull’s-eye, but missing
the entire target altogether. Of course, how could we aim our intentions of
good, for a life of well-being, if we cannot see because of the veils we have
allowed to fall over our spiritual eyes? The center of the target is none other
than our Self, and is our direct awareness of Self-Divinity. Not being able to
connect with the center of our self-intention also increases the sensations of helplessness
and hopelessness. The joy of being Centered seems lost forever. We then begin
to tell this story of darkness over and over until it becomes etched into our
brain, like the grooves of a vinyl record, or the magnetic impressions on a
computer disc, and our story of everlasting life has now been turned into one
that includes the belief in an inevitable darkness and death.
Ancient people drew a correlation between this inner,
psychospiritual descent into darkness and their outer material experience of
our planet’s seeming withdrawal from the light, culminating in the winter’s
solstice. They also noticed that this shortest day of the year—the “bottom”—did
not go on forever but then began to become illuminated once again by the Sun’s
return. The Sun had never actually abandoned them; it had been there all the
time. But because of their seemingly stationary position on a seemingly
unmoving Earth, it only appeared as if the Light had deserted them. They had
mistakenly placed the evidence of their physical experience over the evidence of
their spiritual understanding, forgetting that the Light is always there,
always available. The joy of living had become the worry of uncertainty and the
fear of death. All along, there was beauty in the darkness.
Certain wise souls amongst these ancient people saw how
quickly we can forget about the Light by our increasingly paying attention to,
or focusing on, the contrasting play of light as it differentiates our world of
forms, which we label as “shadows” and “darkness.” When it seems like a
situation becomes “less light” most people somehow quickly forgot that this doesn’t
mean the light is going away. It wasn’t so long ago when people even became
anxious when watching the sun leave them over the western horizon. Indeed, in
some cultures, it is still said that a person “goes West” when they transition
and relocate via the darkest shadow known as “death.”
The ancient wise ones redirected everyone’s attention by pointing
outward and up, toward the horizon that was also always there before them. And
lo! There appeared a Star in the East, which had been rising all that time right
behind them, but they had been too
focused on watching the sun apparently abandoning them in the West. This star
was also referred to as “the Christ within us”—or in other words, The Forever-Risen Light,
or “the nonexistence of darkness.”
As with all spiritual words that attempt to articulate
non-verbal spiritual truths, the word “Christ” is complex and meant to convey
a particular emotional energy that vibrates at a certain level. It is vibration
that conveys information to us not only through our physical senses which
interpret and manifest form, but also through our spiritual senses which
manifest that which is beyond form—but not separated from—the fullness of our
individual experience of Life.
“Christ” is a Greek word that means “The Anointed One.”
Anointing is a symbolic physical act of placing a little oil on someone’s
forehead, where the seat of consciousness was sometimes believed to reside. The
Greeks knew all about oil, especially that pressed from olives. The olives had
to be crushed in a labor-intensive procedure, and even then, the result was
still a bitter liquid, clouded by unwanted substances and contaminates, which
then had to be filtered out through even more rigorous labor. Who wouldn’t be
clouded by such bitterness after getting crushed by something seemingly more
powerful than us, and against our will? Who wouldn’t most likely resist
allowing that higher power to continue to mess around with us, filtering our
lives through ever-more refining life circumstances? Surrender my bitterness?
No way! Everyone knows, or should know, that life is nothing but a bitter bowl
of olives.
The good news that the wise ones might want to convey about
anointing is that we don’t have to go through a life-crushing process in order
to find relief. The pure oil—sweet, clear, and never bitter—has already been
prepared. In fact, it was always pure to begin with. No matter how often we
forget this, if we can find a way to remember it, which is letting ourselves be
touched or anointed by the purest of thoughts and feelings, the living of life
will become sweet once again.
Material, earthly life often distracts us from the light and
sweetness of our spiritual existence. The sun, the moon, and the stars are
there to help us remember this. Let us set our intention to remember to look
outward and upward at least twice a day—once in the morning and again at night.
Know that even as we appear to be falling asleep, we are also waking up. The afterlife is not something that is going to happen—it is happening now. When
we can live more and more in the mindful awareness that our story is one of
never-ending awakening, we will become anointed by the ecstasy of our own
spirit, enjoined with The Cosmos, never to be separated unless that is what we
might want. And if that should be the case, may we rest in the knowing that
there will always be kind and watchful Helpers in Spirit, awaiting for us to
give them a sign that we are ready to wake up at any time.
posted by August Goforth @ 14:53
1 comments
