Do You Remember?

It has been a minute, dear Reader, since last I wrote here. With so much change, so much must be integrated, and that takes time. Unlike King Théoden in Lord of the Rings (LOTR), my dreams of late have not been dark; they've been sacred - in the mist and midst of remembrance. To remember my soul's blueprint, my essence, and the sacredness of this realm separated by the Milky Way, the rainbow bridge, the Titan Arum of the cosmos - for it is here we are born anew and die, unlike anywhere else.

My aunt died 22 July, a day after my son's birthday. I didn't go home for the funeral, I couldn't. She rests between my mother and my maternal grandparents, and I just couldn't knowing how she now rests as a bridge between them as she was when I entered this world as my Labor and Delivery Nurse. The sacredness of her life, and her saying yes to herself, which allowed me to live, made her passing incredibly grievous- honestly more than I thought it would, and so I prayed and called forth the winged one of the Andes tradition, the Crystal Condor to fly her home to the land of the eternal sun. It was with that prayer, something miraculous happened. I was shown just how incredibly precious this realm within the Milky Way is - like the Titan Arum of the Cosmos - the corpse flower, vast, rare, and foul-smelling yet majestic, seen in some Indonesian lore as a bridge between life and death. I cast no illusions, dear Reader. This side of the Milky Way is the realm of death. But what if death is not an ending here—what if it’s the alchemy? What if this realm, this bruised and burning Eden, is where souls are forged into something the rest of the cosmos can only witness in awe? The strength that arises when a soul says I will enter the Frey once more, and gives this reality yet another go- I tell you truly, there are stars that are in awe of those who choose such a task.

And so I write, as someone who has accepted her soul's blueprint in a world that would have no idea what it means to be a winged one, a Cosmic Gardener even. And it is with that truth, I weep - for this lifetime, those before, and the one that I've been shown will come after this one. I stated before I would cast no illusions, and I won't with this - I tell you truly, this planet survives, but it is humans who will not in the coming years. We will take to space to live. School children will travel here for field trips wearing the equivalent of BSL 4 suits ( I trust you can Google). So, dear reader, when someone comes at you with some Galactic Federation horseshit - call it out. It is HUMANS who will do the harm, and it is HUMANS who will pay for it. We are the Saviors and Messiahs we've been waiting for. It isn't Jesus, Angels, Demons, or Aliens. It is US, but nevertheless, our beloved Pachamama shall persist and thrive even.

Despite the area being a nuclear exclusion zone, Chernobyl has surprisingly become a haven for wildlife. Many animal populations, including wolves, lynx, bison, and even Przewalski's horses, have thrived in the absence of humans. While the long-term effects of radiation on these animals are still being studied, the initial findings suggest that the absence of human activity has been beneficial for many species. Please read that again - the initial findings suggest that the absence of human activity has been beneficial for many species.

I had taken a Hatun Munay course with one of my beloved instructors from the Andes - the exercise was to breathe the air 50 years in the future. As I did so, an acrid scent was on the air, one I did not recognize at all. I've only encountered a scent similar since that course - from machinery now in Tecolote Canyon, completely reshaping and, quite frankly, destroying it for the homes on the canyon rim above. I would later ask about this, to which my teacher replied, " You already took care of it. " Indeed, I have already made the decision to return to humanity many years in the future to be a beacon for this realm and what it once was, the old that is made anew without humans. There may be remote tribes that remain, but the majority no longer abide here at that time. There will be more than just me to return, probably to a time similar to now, to witness the great shift in humanity and to usher in the anchors that allow for a new heaven and a new earth.

Is this all bizarre? Yes. Is it what is necessary to write? Also, yes. There is assurance that humanity continues, that this planet continues - albeit more than likely with very little human occupancy. This has happened several times throughout the lifecycle of humanoid existence on this planet. How many other times are due to human hubris like now? Who can say? Probably some strange "channeler" talking to an unvetted source. Be skeptical, because I sure am - I am not skeptical about my ancestors, my spiritual court. When I was in Belgium, my mother profusely told me to do things my way - do not be dismayed by other people's beliefs and, quite frankly, their bullshit.

And with the sounds of the hummingbirds looking for my feeders, I say to you this - say yes to all of you. Will it be easy? Hell no - there will be shadows that shake you, flames that burn you, and love that breaks you. You will not remain unmended and unmade - the butterfly does not question the chrysalis - it welcomes it with joy - for the wings and winds await.

I leave you with the Passionate Shepherd’s final plea: A love song to Earth from Kit Marlowe

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,

By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of Roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.