We met again, the ‘sisters’ of the Global Unified Field. Across the globe, across time zones, a meeting that usually works for everyone somehow. Today, there were some missing, whom we held in our hearts and our listening. There were electrical charge issues across the timezones too. In the middle of the call, the electricity went out in my home.
Just like that.
Cut off from it all. Cut off seemingly from connection. Cut off from our habituated senses and many of the senses that connect us in this day and age. The internet, the TV, the wider world.
There was an initial nervousness to it all. My husband and I both spinning, finding our feet in the darkness. Tripping over toys… lego…ouch. Jumbo lego…oucher. Bumping in to restless dogs who weren’t used to it all either. We reached outward, to each other at first. Then to our children, upstairs and no-longer connected through rooms by the monitors.
We really had to listen.
We reached out to the neighbours and family. “Have you been cut off too????”
‘No’ they said. They were in the full presence of the light. They were illuminated and connected by wires. They could see and hear.
And then as we settled in the seemingly sudden darkness, with the thought that we may be ‘unconnected’ for a while, things dropped.
I looked out the windows which are usually black as night, we four all used to looking outside from a lit window. Interestingly, my son had earlier asked if he could look at the darkness.. he is so intrigued by it.
Even on this stormy night there was a beautiful light in the sky. It lit the shadows of the trees around us, twisty dark against the new light-night sky that I saw. There was a settling sense of the rods and cones adjusting and seeing things differently in the dark.
I began to hear the music of the silence, the wind whistling through the chimney, softness of dogs pottering, the calmness all around, even in the wind. No more buzzing currents crossing paths and confusing things.
I could feel the ground beneath me more. The sense of finding feet. The temperature of the floor came in. Connection to ground. Mindful walking.
And we listened. I could hear my husband breathing, the dogs moving. We heard each other. The content of communication was there. Hearing was undistracted by other attention-sucking devices.
I was always afraid of the dark. That speaks volumes to me now. I was always afraid of the unknown, of not being able to see.
I was always afraid of the dark times in life. The ‘what will become of me?’ sense. The grief of things I knew to be an important experience, but the fear of the unknown was powerful.
And in this natural darkness now, I am not afraid. I feel the heart of listening in me. This little one who speaks through the darkness, who lights the way, who connects me to myself and then to the darkness, the earth, the wind, the sky and to the world. Total trust and connection in the unknown.
Connection that is much more powerful than the fastest broadband and wider than the world-wide web.
This illumination that comes from the heart – so bright in the still night of the soul – is far-reaching.
And it says that each path is lit, the fuses ignited, and the charge of the currency is clarifying into the trickles from the blast as it needs to, connecting and uniting.
It says trust in the darkness. Don’t be afraid.
We can sit in the light and not see.
We can place ourselves in the surround of sound and not hear.
we can bask quietly in the darkness and allow the beauty to emerge.