Gazing out my window, a lone fat robin searches, pecking at the ground, listening...
As I relax into the release of the furthest dive into the sub and unconscious depths of the clearing spiral, feeling and dreaming away the final vestiges of the Armageddon-like past and futures, circular time brings me into the now.
The collective human mind has been so burdened, that the healing cycle has been longer and deeper than expected. Even Punxsutawney Phil scurried back into the warm safety of his burrow to endure more extreme cold, and singularly snuggled into the great piles of snow that did not seem to melt.
Animals and humans alike patiently anticipate the fragile flower bulbs reaching for the spring sun. The young plants do their best at eluding the cold drying wind of Jack Frost and The Rabbits. They, like we, are eager for the promised future of paradise, willing to risk some damage, as the reticent environment catches up to our vibrations. In the past, unseasonably hot weather fouled the spring growth and bloom, and the unprecedented long spate of single digit cold this year, to the bottom of the temperature gauge, tried our ability to endure. Balance presents, as we have hit bottom. Mother Nature is finding her center in the wild swings of man's technical and emotional whims.
Humanity is divesting itself from the 3D stupor of disbelief, no more resisting the transformative cosmic flares and winds of the sun, nor the depths of Black Moon Lilith. Each soul is uniquely experiencing the first feelings of the steady life-supporting foothold on solid ground, and the breath of the Mother Divine. We all took the in-breath, held it with hesitant fear, and now are slowly, carefully, releasing it freely, while remaining sensitive to the consequences.
Like early flower bulbs, the fresh, clean, bold foundations of the fully loving New Earth are emerging from our imaginations and dreams. Humanity's hands are raised skyward with "YES" imprinted on them, as we search for and create new systems that support all. They poke through the debris of the past like new growth through last year's fallen leaves. Stretching beyond limitation, they reach through to the loving infinite cosmos.
We are able to breathe a little, and float in harmony with the flowing new waters of life. As the ice and snow finally melts around us now, we stand upright and strong. Aware of the fog of chemicals and electro-magnetic pollution of mind, body and spirit, we no longer succumb to the control of others. Too much war, too much famine, too much disease, too much materialism and celebrity, too much desecration of the Mother to feel anything else, our pricked hearts are at their limit, and it has become too painful for continuance, anywhere, whether the streets of Chicago or Syria. We boldly reach for the abundance and prosperity that now is within our grasp.
We easily give up the mind conditioning of that which is external to ourselves. We fully detach from the common mass media, the "job," the money, the sports, the competition, and the public, to find peace. The positive stories are many now, with millions participating in the UN "International Day of Happiness," March 20, and many more millions preparing in community for Earth Day, April 22.
We who know the perfect love of god, the gods we are, and our powerful ability to flip the switch from darkness and despair to light, are no longer on "hold." The catapult is built, the "pots of plenty" are ready to be shared, and the "order" to launch arrives in divine perfection.
We have sprung forth.
Change and assistance is evident, and coming from all directions and realms.
Last February, 2013, the vultures came, effortlessly floating, cruising on the gossamer winds, circling and observing, cleaning and nourishing the land and her inhabitants. A large heavy feather was gifted to me, as the strong wind lodged it in the winter branches of the spent peonies along the fence. It was strong, perfectly formed: a divinely presented spiritual tool to be used with wisdom and love. The vultures of which I speak were real, live birds. Much maligned and misunderstood, we have misinterpreted their worth and relegated their name to our most despised in society. We owe them much gratitude. They willingly remove the carrion, consume the rotting dead, and leave nourishing clean fertilizer in their wake. A group of them roosted in a tree across the street from my living room window. Their numbers grew day by day, from 5 to 33. They spoke to us as earth and grid workers, and said, thank you. They told us to rest a little, and to gear up for the next round of creation.
Creation time is now.
As we unfurl our now more mature wings, and ready ourselves for the leap off the ledge, we study the terrain below, around and above. The vultures have completed their work, and it is our turn to fly, and, in truth, soar beyond any previous definitions of reality.
We are the Phoenix, the Dragon, the Bluebird, the Eagle, the Sparrow, the Crow and the Hawk, the Owl, the Cardinal and the Blue-Jay, ready to create the lighter, clearer, more vibrant colors of the rainbow hue-man. We join the Robin and The Rainbow warriors, who have transfigured their swords and shields into loving arms of friendship, and have awakened. Listen closely, for now we speak and act with clarity, truth and wisdom.
We prepare and commune, gather, and join in unity with all, to accomplish what we came here to do, to share, and to experience.
We are One with love and purpose.
Robin is looking for a place to build her nest. And with clear innate wisdom, Punxsutawney Phil, yet in his winter home, has dreamed the spiritual vision in alignment with us: the coming of the tender warm Spring Light, and the New Earth.
(c) 2014 Cynthia G. Piano
About the author:
Cynthia G. Piano is a spiritual teacher, healer, writer and spiritual mastery mentor. She established Oneness House ~ A Spiritual Spa in 2002, and assists people, animals, and all multidimensional life to experience joy, peace, love and oneness. To contact her for interview, presentation, CreationShops, or remote spiritual work, please write her at firstname.lastname@example.org.