It all shall be written upon the pages that become the Akasha or Books of Life (Tomes). It is my pleasure to dip my sharpened stylus into the sacred ink vessel, which holds a dark crimson ink that becomes indelible upon drying due to the recipe of its making: equal parts of blood, sweat, tears mixed by vibration from a living drum; the rhythmic beating of a human heart).
To write after awaiting the first vibration from the singer’s throat, the newest tale of woe from a mother’s lips, stories of small delights emitted from lips of children; and of fires ever igniting by a single breath of life and hope.
It is not my own wisdom that delights my work; indeed, I rejoice I the wisdom spoken that reaches my ears, spoken in the face of the unfathomable fear rampant across the world below.
The wisdom that delights my heart the most comes bundled in the prayers spoken and lifting the hearts of the speaker even for only a moment or two.
We heed well those who cry out, cloaked in fear and darkness, illness or besought by transgressions by all its many labels; welcoming, too, the brave teachers who offered guidance and wisdom regardless of their age, name or title for all are so utterly needed on every level now.
We do not forget the animal kingdom, beings we gently guide and care for whether furred, feathered, scaled or many-legged, finned or flippered.
I hesitate in my recording this day for I have watched as fear, despair and a dangerous evil darkness has once again risen as a cobra that has been poked with the sticks wielded by many who seem utterly misinformed, selfishly impatient and wear their greediness like badges upon their chests.
We can only observe as there are furious crowds, protesting rightfully but perhaps without the wisdom in face of the injustices thrown at their feet, but we fear consequences will reach far beyond their intent for the virus is still the most rampant hunter of this time.
I have paused this day’s recording to ponder over the this the dark rage I see in the angry crowds below. I see their need and seeking of justice but fear the crowd-minded ways will be more dangerous even as they desire rightfully.
Oh, I shall record what comes, I must; yet my hope in pausing will produce an echo of what has been the Earth’s Great Pause and their fury be tempered by wisdom and from compassionate hearts aware of the likelihood of dire consequence other than what they seek as justice or legal reforms.
I muse over what even I cannot foresee, yet know I must record the moments as they change, develop and restructure intention, dreams and expectations even before I can complete the words or punctuate the sentence change races to beat even my mind there.
Aiwa, even a neter dreams, ponders and wonders … so I stop to breath and gaze upon my unfinished page.
The words already written, already indelibly sealed to the papyrus, unchangeable even if I were allowed such an editorial sort of whim.
Yet, I look harder then shift my gaze and the page shifts from is solid form, as the papyrus appears to be returning to its watery birthplace as it becomes something more limpid in form.
Then I watch as it changes again, now it is as the thick foggy mists that drift across the dark waters of the Nile just before sunrise; the time when the life blood of Egypt teases the eye with suggestions of the ancient mysteries of the old mystic priests still hidden in the silence of its depths.
I wonder…does this suggest that even the Nile will not or cannot reveal an outcome, dire or hopeful, for the onslaught of the demonic virus? Or am I seeing the subtly of the changes beginning within the bottom muck of the river where seeds of the enlightened symbol, the nearly extinct blue lotus, begins its ascent into the light?
Alas, I am reminded of something I believe written by William Shakespeare: “the pen writes and having written …” but no, I cannot for the ending is no longer valid. I shall instead utter my own prophetic version, saying: “the stylus writes and having written, it pauses …” for there is no ending available. Instead, I must wait to finish the phrase, but cannot until the time is deemed right for only then shall Ra rise into the sky over the Nile again and with brilliance burn away this fog of uncertainty, fear and death. Only when that time is upon the Earth, shall the words be written, recording the new clarity, renewed compassion in hearts and the new version of Truth spoken from every lip as taught them by Ma’at, herself.
But, until that day, I am pulled away from the dreaming and back to this difficult task recording the Akashic Records for this direst moment in time with hope that our children upon the Earth will keep faith and trust in whatever name or title they chose as Sacred Divinity and living Truth.
I say this: Be aware and Beware … The essential haunting by a shadowy entity in viral form has not ended nor shall it soon as you count time. There has been mistaken assurances by those who you may consider trustworthy and others that are merely foolish, arrogant or misinformed of a threat by something as yet still unknown and dangerous, causing inconceivable problems and deaths for so many across the globe. Just be warned, my children, for all destiny will answer us is that the threat is not yet run its course. The advice I can offer is that each of you must hold to your watchfulness and compassion for others while maintaining the precautionary measures in place for the well-being of all, lest temptation to step out of current boredom teases recklessness. The danger is not gone; the virus still a threat, unfinished disruption of lives nor is its resolve depleted or hunger sated.
Ah, do know we honor you as you honor us in return, by the name of your choosing the Divine see your hearts like lanterns that hold the purest starlight from the very center of the Cosmos. It is your love/compassion that brighten them to shine as brightly as any bonfire can.
It is by love alone that your lighted lantern heart will send its rays outward into the whole of space and time, ever brighter and becoming the healing of heart and mind and will both of the vessel that carries it as well as all that it touches, especially those to whom its healing rays are directed by thought, intention or deed.
The message I offer now for I must soon return to my tasks in the golden halls of Amente and Akasha: Remember if nothing else, that the POWER is LOVE; LOVE is your real POWER. The words spoken from the heart (love) are the most powerful and thus create reality – equally for good or evil or in between – and when you speak in compassion/love the words become most powerful and may be likened to becoming as written by my stylus upon papyrus with the indelible magical ink, which glistens before drying into permanence of creation as it fulfills intention and desire; that is the magic; that is the power; that is the healing made available to desire—LOVE.
Now I shall pick up the stylus and return to my work for it is done always from a divine heart and the power from love; love for all of my children above, below, as well as those yet to become as it was done for those that have already been and may yet choose to become one day again.