Weekly energy pulse: Oct 6-12

Destiny hidden in plain sight


Weekly energy pulse readings are designed as prompts for shifts in consciousness, rather than predictions. Think: soul-to-soul transmission, rather than didactic learning.

the vibe

Perfection (Calling)

So what the hell does “perfect divine timing” mean anyway? Let’s deconstruct this, because it has some resonance this week in terms of how we approach the things we wish to materialise in the world. That means a subtext of how to take action, and where to invest our focus, in the new dimensional space whose energy is ever-shifting, fluid, resistant to being tied down into discrete forms.

This has been one of my chief questions during this radical transition. How to take action, make decisions with medium- and long-term consequences when what feels compelling and even destined one day disappears into the ether the next. Once we pay the deposit, it’s difficult to get a refund. Prophecy in this context seems like a bait-and-switch con. Once the forecast day arrives, the rules are changed. Are we in a perpetual state of wait-and-see? And who, in any case, can pull anything certain at all out of quantum entanglement?


The paradox of paradox (don’t get me started)

PERFECTION IS A MARRIAGE of above and below, symbolised by the temple as a holding space for that which cannot be contained – ie. The divine. We will gather paradoxes as we go, trying to unlock this enigma. It sounds, from this description anyway, that this perfection is a mere imitation of what is eternal, and symbolism is the best we can do. But that ignores the function of symbolism as a gateway for direct experience. This gives us two meanings:

–What is perfect is beyond form;

–Form is a gateway to experience perfection.

When we try and bring that perfection from direct experience into the world, it seems to vanish. Really, the second we think we have it nailed, the ground disappears beneath our feet. A bliss state in meditation can be broken by the intrusive realisation that we are in a bliss state. Everywhere we look for it, it’s gone. As the Sanskrit expression goes: Neti neti. Not this. Not that.

So how, then, do we bring heaven to Earth? 

Well, if it’s not this, and not that, we can take the radical leap that it must be everywhere and in everything, which of course cannot be captured in its infinitude. Which brings us to timing, believe it or not. Timing obviously belongs to the third dimension – our physical, linear, flesh-and-blood reality. The temple itself is made of bricks and mortar. Timing is specific, even with a timeframe, unless you’re being deliberately vague.

If the divine is in every thing, we can call off the search. The truth is not out there, but in here. We can look to the principle of specificity or thisness. All paradoxes are resolved when we engage the specific as a microcosm of the absolute. That’s code for fifth-dimensional living in third-dimensional space.  

Let’s see if I can break through the spiritual abstractions for a minute…

The weight of time

Consider what I once learned in a writing class. Specificity grounds the abstract in a way that transforms both. “The letter weighed 11 grams.” In isolation, as a passage in a novel this is banal. However, if it is the last sentence in a Dear John letter received by a soldier on the frontline in WWI, presumably weeks after it was written, it is stunning.

In the novel, our-girlfriend-as-protagonist tells ‘John’ how she’s been doing. The impact of the war. She saw his family and they are fine. Everyone prays that it will all be over soon. Slowly, awkwardly, she reveals that she’s met someone. He’s been away too long, that’s all. And she’s not the same person she was. She’s breaking up with him. He’s at the trenches, living on rations. The ragged photo of her has been a talisman of a distant safety and familiarity. Maybe it has a smear of dirt. The letter changes his world. But how do we as readers feel its impact on him, especially when Dear John letters are a dime a dozen, a literary cliche?

After she signs off with regret and now-perfunctory well wishes, the author of the novel delivers. “The letter weighed 11 grams.” Thisness. Specificity. We are now him, gripping that letter, because we know the weight of things. #DearJohnIsUs

Consider also this: by the time he receives the letter, it is weeks (or days) since it was written. It’s like those dead night stars they talk about. The light we see in the present is coming from the past. Perhaps he felt the heartbreak already, dimly aware of her decision, and the letter was only confirmation of what he had already felt.

So everything is happening all at once. We know this. Time belongs to the third dimension. But how do we collapse the wave to the particle, timelessness to time? How do we pull the abstract of divine timing into our physical reality? And do we even have (or share in co-creation) that power?

our calling card

THE CALLING CARD IS illustrated with a whirling dervish who spins and spins, abandoning worldly orientation for the pure centre of God. The outer world blurs, form becomes indistinct, and the only reliable and ironically stable thing is his own body. His form, in other words, is the thisness that makes heaven on Earth possible.

We are the temple that houses God. Perfect timing encourages us to be more specific, more grounded in the here-and-now in order to access the infinite. In this new fluid dimensional space where an apparent calling that appeals one moment loses its appeal the next, this means allowing the outer world to spin. This is harder than it sounds. We worry for our footing, we worry about getting dizzy or even sick. We worry about the world of form losing all the meanings (and relationships) we had attached to it.

Paradox: the opposite is true. The world loses its invested meaning, yes, but gains the essence of love it needs for transformation. We ground that love back into the world. That’s always been the purpose.

If we want to know what to action, what to trust through the fluid waves of shifting energies, we can look back to our physical body, the stable thing – the thisness – as our guide. What has never changed? What has been stable through all the symbolic deaths, the crazy-making timeline hopping, the endless ascension energies? That’s the question to ask. It’s always been here, the thisness beckoning us home.

Don’t the whorls of our fingerprints and thumbprints look a little like galaxies. The stamp of our third-dimensional identities have cosmic mystery hidden in plain sight, just like destiny. Perfect divine timing is when we recognise the threads of our destiny and pull them into a tight weave. Let me say that again: perfect divine timing is the moment of recognition when we see what’s been here all along. Take that as a cue.

Life has moulded us well. What to action? It is not something new, despite the felt newness of the space, but something that is old – or more accurately, timeless – and has never changed.

What has always called us, been present through every change, and a spur to evolution, even when – especially when – it has been painful? Nothing is misplaced. Not experience wasted. “The letter weighed 11 grams.” God is in the detail.

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” Anton Chekhov

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