Life teaches. Life itself shows me the lessons I must learn each day. Can I allow life to have so much power? Can I acquiesce to that truth, that I don’t really control anything, but that life itself in its everyday flow brings me everything I need?
I must stay on my path no matter what comes to greet me...
The world outside of me, my inner world, my dreams, relationships, challenges, choices, and actions are all part of nature’s flow. Yet I must struggle with wants, needs, and desires. I must struggle with feelings and emotions. I must struggle with what others ask of me and what I ask of myself. I must struggle with staying in balance, connected to my inner truth, yet kind, respectful, and considerate of others. At all times, I must grapple with what life presents me with while staying on my path, spiritual and otherwise. I must join the flow of life in taking me where it will, yet at the same time I am responsible for making decisions, not simply acquiescing, but doing what is right.
Ever since our return from our island retreat, which I wrote about in last week’s blog, I have dreamt of islands. Every night I confront an island situation and every morning I wake up knowing that my island dreams are asking me to flow with the life I am in, to seek balance in all my experiences. Islands offer constraint, limitation, boundaries, and confrontation with constraint, limitation, and boundaries as well.
Last night I dreamed again of being on an island, trekking a long road to get to a cabin on the tip of a sandy island. Upon entering the cabin, Chuck and I find the windows locked shut, the window sills covered with Catholic statuary of Jesus and Mary, in single and group settings with lambs and children. Too hot and stuffy, our immediate reaction is that the windows must be opened to let the wind blow through. Chuck immediately opens a window, knocking a statue to the floor, breaking it. The couple whom we are renting the cabin from stand nearby, the woman on the outside of the windows, the man inside the cabin. I see the woman’s face fall into sadness as the statue breaks. I hear the man, standing behind me, gasp. I sense that they must let the statues go, that they can no longer control what gets in or goes out. Chuck opens another window and another, each time knocking the statues to the floor where they smash into pieces. I sense fear from the couple, but Chuck and I feel much better.
I look at the dream symbolism: island equals limitation that is further constrained by dogma—imposed by others—creating barriers to the flow of life’s energy. Rigidity does not allow for the free flow of energy or life. It creates a false sense of security, a false sense of protection. What is there to be afraid of? Everything that the couple fears appears in the guise of Chuck and Jan, who ask that nothing be in the way of the flow of energy. Let it in, let things go that are no longer helpful or necessary, and be open to what comes as a result. These are the things that we must contend with in everyday life.
Limitation amid excess...
My dream is all about gaining and maintaining balance in the direct flow of everyday life, life unleashed, uncontrolled, unrestrained. Too much of anything is dangerous, yet often we must accept excess in order to discover things about ourselves, but we must also learn how to live surrounded by excess and remain in balance.
Returning from our island retreat presented us with returning to the excess that normal life constantly barrages us with; too much of everything is available to us at all times in our modern era. Our island retreat was thoughtfully planned for, just enough food, the essential necessities taken care of, but our human selves would have to remain aware that there were limitations. That part of life was easy on the island, restriction accepted, moderation became the norm. Nature however, still existed on the island, nature flowing freely. That too had to be accepted and restricted, granted moderation. Too much sun leads to sunburn. Wind, rain, fog, seagulls, icy ocean waters, and the darkness of night had to be accepted too. Moderation flowed nicely into our island days. Things were clear.
Moderation continues to be important, most necessary as the excesses of life surround us, seeking to sweep us off our feet. The man and woman in my dream, representing other aspects of the self, showed me the side of the self that is fearful of not being able to handle the intensity of life’s energy. Yet Chuck and I, representing the flowing spirit selves in the dream, are more open to it, for we know that we must let it in or we will suffocate. At the same time that these selves do present a kind of balance, that balance is restricted by the extremes of fear and excess. They must come together in a new balance that takes into consideration their separate realities, limited only by what is right.
Our spirits require unrestricted access to the energy of all life. Yet in opening the windows to the flow of life we must also be prepared to accept what comes. We must prepare ourselves to be modest, considerate of what we can handle and what we must hold off on until we are ready. We must challenge ourselves to stay connected to our inner truths and the paths we are on, to take our journeys without limitation, yet always with thoughtfulness and constant monitoring: Am I being moderate? Am I being excessive? Am I being restrictive or limiting of my experiences? Am I in balance?
I must study the deeper meaning of what comes to me...
When I am challenged with something, I ask myself to study the meaning of what life is presenting me with. Even though I may have an instantaneous reaction, I know it may not be right or true, though sometimes it is indeed. However, I must turn inward and ask myself to feel through to what is the right thing to do or feel about a certain situation before responding. Then I must decide what action to take so that I may remain true to myself and the path I am on. I will not deviate from my path and so I know I must always connect to my deepest inner truth, and yet I must be honest, thoughtful, respectful, and deeply sensitive of others as well. Though life may blow me off my path for a moment or two, I must step right back on it and reassert my intent to grow, for that is the intent of my spirit, of all of our spirits.
I must train myself to stand in the full force of life’s energy and, in modesty and moderation, be who I truly am. I must allow the statuary, the icons I put up to ward off life, to be broken so that I may face what life has in store for me. I must let things go that are not serving me in my quest. In my dream, though I felt sorry for the woman and man when their statues broke, I simultaneously knew that it was time to let them go. I must face what I have in myself that I am still holding onto and no longer need.
Upon awakening, I accept that though I am no longer on an island in reality, I have the island inside me at all times. I return to my island retreat, pulling inside to study the lessons that islands offer, as I seek moderation in the fullness of life.
Keep love in your hearts for all beings. Do not carry resentment or regret for lives lived, but seek release and redemption from all that now holds you captive by releasing the self from inner turmoil so that peace may reign, within and without.
Though you live so fully in that world of outer reality, it is the inner journey that must be taken in order to reach a new level of consciousness, both within the self and in relation to the world outside of you. Constant attention to the inner workings of your mind, body, and spirit is necessary in order to achieve calm love in your heart for all beings, including the self.
Facing your inner turmoil will lead to finding love in your heart, first for the self and then for others. Find the reasons for your sorrows and you will find joy. Find the reasons for your pain and you will find release. Find the reasons for the constant worries of the mind and you will find peace of mind.
All in all, it is only in constantly attending to the self as a spiritual being on a journey to wholeness that change will occur. Let the self be taken forward on that journey each day. With patience, learn to acquiesce to the flow of life, for it will take you where you need to go, show you what you must confront, and guide you to resolution.
Trust all that comes your way as guidance and you will have traversed the first hurdle in taking that journey of change. Challenging though your journey may be, keep always in mind that of all life’s journeys it is the one that matters. At your core you already know this.
Acquiesce a little bit more to that truth, trusting that this day and the events that arise from outside of you and the corresponding reaction that arises inside you are crucial partners as you take your journey. Pay attention to all that arises or comes to greet you as being significant and deeply meaningful, today and all days.
Find release in learning what it truly means to carry love in your heart through deep work on the self. It is truly a loving journey worth every second of your life.
Your daily journey is showing you all that you need in order to evolve. Accept what comes and flow with it, in trust that you are indeed well guided and truly loved in return.
Deeply trusting this journey, channeled with love for all, Jan
Every shamanic gathering I ever attended began with the leader standing at the podium awaiting silence. Then, in ritual format, he/she would state: “My name is __________. I am a being who is going to die.”
Those shamans have learned, through their many journeys through different realities, that it is critical to establish—state with intent—a clear definition of who they are—a name—which serves to hold them together as they confront the myriad of forces present in the world they are interacting with or traveling through. In this world, they add the caveat “a being who is going to die” to acknowledge the limits of the human form, indeed a being on its way to dying.
To state our name before all of infinity is to assume definite responsibility for the life we are living. This is not an act of inflation, of hubris, but an act of validation. I exist in definite form; I assume responsibility for my life.
In the psychological world, our hero self—our ego—must establish itself in relation to the power and infinitude of the personal and collective unconscious. To give our self a name is the beginning of consciousness. “In the beginning was the word, and the word became man.” (John 1:14) Without a name we don’t exist, we are nothing, merged with everything. To exist we must establish ourselves, affirm ourselves, give ourselves a rightful place in the world as a named being.
Many people, especially during recapitulation, must contend with tidal waves of energetic onslaughts from the deep unconscious that threaten to dissolve reality and identity. The experience might be pervasive nausea, dizziness, or disorienting out-of-body energy states, the sensation of being on an endless roller coaster riding at light speed in reverse, into the darkness without pause.
Threatening chaos...
In such moments, we are threatened with a return to original chaos. We visit the land before time, the cosmic sludge, life without definition, without awareness, life without consciousness, for all intents and purposes, death.
Although we may have little or no control over our threatening encounters with our deeper energetic selves, we can and must, as we ride and are tossed about by those giant waves, state, with conviction: I am So-and-So! Stating our name over and over again, adding any caveat we choose, affirms the intent to remain a consolidated, sane being in this world no matter what we must face, establishing an ark to survive the floods of emotion, memory or sensate intensity. Beyond this, that ark establishes a boundary, a separateness, an observing perspective beyond the onslaught, the eye of the storm that offers cohesion and sobriety amidst the chaos.
Remember, as well, that the selves we establish are part of, and fully, the intent of original chaos. Nature chose to become conscious. Human beings reflect that intent, however poorly they manage it. Nature ultimately respects and supports our attempts at consciousness as we define ourselves and describe our world. It may insert an adjustment, a clarification of the true nature of things as it floods our consciousness, but, in the end, it seeks to further consciousness. Clearly establishing your name before it, is an act it will support.
During her own recapitulation journey, Jan encountered the chaos during a dream, a natural part of her process of self-realization and individuation. From her book, The Man in the Woods:
May 1, 2002
In a dream, I write my name in large script across my arm with a big black marker. Suddenly I don’t know who I am; I feel no connection to the name I’m writing, I don’t even recognize it. I don’t even recognize my own handwriting. I begin to panic as I enter an impersonal state, aware that I am nothing. I have no personality, no individual characteristics that I can identify. I no longer recognize myself because I am nonexistent.
“I don’t know who I am,” I say, panic rising higher, but then I calm down as I hear Chuck’s voice telling me that I can fix my dreams, that I can fix anything.
“It’s okay. You’ll be fine,” he advises. “You are you. Just let yourself be you.”
“Just let yourself be you. Just let yourself be you. Just let yourself be you,” I tenderly recite to myself, soothing my panic.
I wake up; those words flowing off my tongue.
Treasures in the aftermath...
In the midst of traumatic recapitulation, as Jan establishes in her dream, it’s important to to remain anchored and aware of the self. Be you. State your name over and over again and the waves will subside. The naming will gain further clarity, as the treasures and trinkets left on the beach as the waves recede are sifted through. In further naming the artifacts of life lived, by more clearly knowing our personal history, we can shed its impact. Identified, named, and filed away, it loses its energetic punch, just as the chaos did in Jan’s dream.
Affirming the self via name also establishes a base for relationship as the ego/hero self can interact and form relationships with the unconscious selves, be they split off parts of the self or entities in the forms of beliefs and thoughts that don’t belong to the self and need to be cast off. Through naming, we anchor ourselves, finding clarity and healing.
State your name. State your intent to remain and become whole. Whether in the midst of recapitulation or facing the everyday onslaughts of life itself, you are a being on its way to fulfillment.
In closing:My name is Chuck Ketchel, a being on the way to fulfillment.
We are on Great Duck Island, a 220 acre private island in the Gulf of Maine, ten miles from the mainland. Only one house. We are renting it for the week. No roads, no amenities. We have been dropped off by boat with all of our supplies and will be picked up a week later. We are sharing the island with over seventy species of birds.
Our sixth day here dawns rainy, foggy, and cool. Finally, by late morning, the sun begins to shine through, piercing the fog, drying the grass. We decide to go for a walk. The tide is coming in, but it will be several hours before it is at its highest.
We decide to tramp along the cliff, heading North, beyond the spot we’d explored yesterday and then cut down to the popplestone beach further along the shoreline. The ground beneath our feet is soft, peat, and we sink into it at every step. We’ve already learned that walking on this island takes attention. Whether on the soft ground punctuated by storm petrel burrows or on the rocky shore, we are aware that we must put our feet down with consideration of what is beneath us, with care of our bodies and the nests that pop up unexpectedly everywhere we walk. Our walks are slow as a result. There is no hurrying on this island.
The Sentinels
We are supremely aware of the gulls perched on the rocky berm that frames the entire island. Like soldiers standing on a thick castle wall these sentinel gulls watch us intently, sending up trumpeting calls of our approach. There are no quiet walks on this island. This island is alive, the energy of nature unleashed and at its most basic, unadulterated by human interference. We are aware that we are interlopers, unwanted, considered dangerous. We stick to the path until we come to a fork that veers down to the rocky beach. We take it.
Supremely alert now, the gulls croak more loudly. Some of them fly up, attempting to distract us from their scattering of nests in the rocks. We are foe. No matter who we are or what our intent might be, they detect us as intruders and nothing else. We are not to be trusted.
When we’d hiked along the rocks yesterday, at low tide, we’d been closely watched and monitored. The gulls had kept up a constant croaking and mewing, alerting their neighbors along the berm of our approach, punctuated every now and then by a loud shriek, but otherwise they had tolerated us. I’d called back to them, mimicking their staccato calls as we hopped along the rocks, studying the life in the numerous tidal pools, searching for small stones naturally tumbled to soft smoothness by the waves. We’d watched as the more threatening natural predators, the eagles, had come. Swooping down upon the gull’s nesting grounds they’d arrived suddenly, stealthily, large, ominous black shadows momentarily cutting off the light. The largest gulls had flown up just as quickly and like jet fighters they’d attacked, driving the eagles offshore. By comparison we were nothing to worry about.
Today is different. As soon as we step off the path and onto the rocks the gulls go crazy. I assume that after a while they will get used to us, just as their neighbors to the south had done yesterday. But I am wrong. The gulls continue to shriek and fly overhead as we make our way to the water’s edge. The rocks here are smoothed by the tides, popplestones of a variety of sizes, large and small they rise up like shaved monks heads from the incoming tide. It’s tricky walking on them. I center myself and get calm. Taking my attention off the gulls, I concentrate on getting a good hopping pace going, on balancing and sure-footedness, thankful for all my years of yoga training.
Sitting in the vastness...
Chuck is nearby taking photographs, his eyes picking out the beauty of the surroundings, the uniqueness of the large rounded stones that now sit so calmly exposed. Rolled by the tides for millennia, they have been here for far longer than we will exist in a lifetime. We are quiet, each having our own experience, our gazes downward. I pick up a beautiful stone that fits nicely in the palm of my hand and carry it with me, shifting it back and forth from hand to hand as I balance on the rocks. I pause to sit on a warm pink ledge of granite. I see that Chuck has walked further to the north now while I have been making my way south and east, back the way we came. He is thoroughly engrossed in his own experience of this moment, taking in this day’s delights.
Suddenly I am aware of the gulls shrieking wildly overhead. I look up, wondering if eagles have come again, but I see nothing in the sky except a swirl of gulls. Where yesterday one or two gulls had monitored us from above, today there are twenty. Sea gulls are large, and with their broad wingspans their shadows are as darkly ominous as the eagles’ shadows that I’d experienced yesterday.
I get up from my pink ledge and call out to Chuck. He can barely hear me above the sound of the waves and the cries of the gulls. “They don’t want us here!” I shout. I see him nod, but I know he doesn’t understand. I point upward. “The gulls! They don’t want us here!” He nods again and goes back to his camera. I see that there are only one or two gulls high above his head. They don’t seem to be bothering with him, while I am now inundated, surrounded by shrieking gulls. They don’t want me here!
Suddenly I’m afraid. As if on cue the gulls get more aggressive. They dive at me, screaming in my ear, their wings clipping close to my head. I scream back. I cannot help myself. Fear takes over. Cowering, I creep along the rocks, in a hurry now. Like Golem I slink, guilty of what I know not, but I am the enemy and the gulls want me out of their territory.
Fear takes control...
Caught, trapped like an animal in the middle of the popplestone quarry, I look at the expanse of rocks ahead of me. This is not easygoing terrain to cross in the best and calmest of circumstances, but it’s the path I am on now. I have no choice but to take it. I hop and jump, going as fast as I can while the gulls swoop lower and lower, so close that I feel the air of their wings brushing the hair on my head, their shrieks deafening. I hunker down even lower, fearful of being struck with their knife-like wings, afraid of being nipped on my ear by their sharp beaks. At the same time I repeat what I have recently read in a manual at the house we are staying in: The gulls will not attack you, but they may poop on you. I use it as a mantra to drive away the fear that has now permeated me.
Suddenly, I am a spider scurrying along the rocks. On all fours I let fear take over. It envelopes me and the gulls maneuver ever closer, intent on driving me from their territory, into the ocean and away from their nests. It’s high tide so the rocky beach is not as wide as it could be, the tide coming in a little higher every moment. The more I hunker down the more the gulls shriek and the closer they fly. Cowering down between two giant rounded stones I look back to see where Chuck is. I want him to come to my rescue, and to take care too, to hurry up and join me in getting out of here as fast as possible, but he is nowhere in sight. I have scurried over a rise and he is far away on the other side, oblivious to my plight. I am in this alone. Trapped, afraid, targeted by the gulls, all I want to do is get out of here!
I look around at my options. Perhaps I can make a run for it back up the slope, to the top of the berm and through the nesting beds, but I know that I will never make it through the thickets of wild roses that grow along the ledge nor get past the loudly trumpeting gulls lined up like a firing squad. There is no possibility of escape. I must face the situation I find myself in. The incoming tide is now lapping at my feet, the cold water sending chills down my sweaty spine. Gripped in fear, the crowd of gulls growing louder and more numerous, I am nothing more than the predatory eagle I saw yesterday and they are intent on driving me off. Finally something clicks.
“Don’t let the fear rule you,” I tell myself. “Take control.”
And then I know I am here in this moment in time to conquer this experience of fear, for we have come to this island aware that its limitations will present us with many confrontations of self and self as part of a unit. We are living within the sealed oven of containment, and in the heat of the closed oven we must confront whatever arises.
In this moment I get it, I am being overwhelmed by fear and the gulls know it. They sense it in me. In the grips of this fear I have become a threat, to both the gulls and myself. I know that I can’t appear so weak and frightened or the gulls will continue to harass me. I stand up quickly, my head grazing the wing of a gull, but, as soon as I do, everything changes. The gulls immediately rise higher, taking their scissor sharp wings and their bloodcurdling cries with them. And in the instance of rising my fear completely disappears, like the jacket I had shed earlier in the heat of the clearing day I feel it slip away into nothing.
What is there to fear now?
Standing at my full height of 5 feet 3 inches, I am suddenly a giant of calmness. No longer acting like a guilty thief caught in the act, I walk slowly and deliberately into the still screaming flock of gulls. But now I notice them acting differently too. No longer do they heckle me. No longer do they come strikingly close but instead fly out over the ocean. Drawing my attention outward, they put on an increasingly curious show. Swooping and circling in the air like clowns, they dance above the waves. Crashing into each other and falling tumbling into the ocean, they put on a mock fight, granting me a most unusual acrobatic display.
Glancing at my feet, ready to take the next step, I suddenly see the reason for all of this, for the whole experience. There, tumbling through the stones, is a small gull chick, a gray-speckled ball of fluff blindly stumbling toward the water. I get it now. The whole thing has been about this, about the gulls protecting this young chick, drawing my attention away from it and perhaps many more that I have not noticed. They have been drawing me, the predator in their midst, away from noticing this most vulnerable member of their colony. I note the chick and quickly move on. Not wanting to cause any more distress, I walk away, tall and steady, in balanced calm, aware that I have just had a most transformative experience.
Finally I stop and look back. Chuck is catching up to me now. With the camera pointing down, he’s still taking photographs, still oblivious. I see that he doesn’t notice the gull chick. I wonder if the gulls will get it back into the nest before the eagles fly over.
As I stand and wait for Chuck, I look back over the popplestones and over the experience I just had as I crossed their vastness. Overcome by fear, I became a fearful being. In the midst of appearing like a predator I became prey. But it was all illusion created by the circumstances. The fear escalated as the gulls detected it, and as I fell for it, fully embracing a sense of impending doom.
Upon realizing that the gulls were treating me like the scared animal that I was indeed portraying, I was able to muster enough energy to enact a shift. Shedding the fear, the illusion that I now saw it as, was a mere physical act. With a shift of my posture, I flung off the fear and regained my equilibrium. In rejecting the fear, I sent the predators away—both the gulls and the fear—and in so doing released myself from being perceived as a predator as well.
While I stand and ponder all of this, the gulls continue their air show. As they circle around I can still look right into their perfectly round beady eyes, but I fully understand the game we’re playing now. I stand without fear, looking back at them in total calm now, aware indeed that they will not attack me, not in this state anyway. Their look is no longer frightening, but almost has a glimmer of humor. “Ha, Ha,” they seem to say, “we really scared you!”
As Chuck draws closer, I see the gulls circling over him too, but he pays them no heed. I see that’s how to do it. He’s done it naturally. Totally focused on his task at hand, intent upon capturing the beauty of this wild, ever-changing landscape we are so privileged to be spending the week in, he hasn’t fallen into the predator’s grip.
“Did you notice what was going on?” I ask.
“I looked up at one point and I couldn’t believe how fast you were going!” he says. “I wondered what the heck you were doing!”
“I was freaking out!” I say and I tell him about my experience.
We laugh and look at the gulls still trying to draw our attention away from their babies. I’m exhausted by my encounter with the nature of fear. I need to get off the sun-drenched rocks and rest in the shade awhile.
Fear washing out to sea...
“Being on this island is so meaningful. I learned a lot today,” I say, as we sit on a bench and look back over the way we’ve come, over the ocean pounding on the shore, hearing the gulls still calling, some other predator now in their midst. I see that I still carry the small stone in the palm of my hand. I remember at one point along the way, in a moment of intense fear, I’d thought of it as a weapon, something to throw at the gulls, though in reality I could never have done such a thing.
The gulls will not attack you, but they might poop on you. I laugh as I tell Chuck about reading this in the house manual.
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “I sure felt like I was being attacked. Being pooped on would have been nothing compared to what I just experienced. But I see how fear takes over and gains control, so easily really, but in the end I discovered that it was nothing. It didn’t exist as soon as I stood up. It fell away like water rolling off a duck’s back. Once I faced it squarely, however, I saw just how intensely it had held me in its grip.”
As we head back along the cliff, I imagine my fear, lying among the popplestones where I left it, about to be washed out to sea by the incoming tide, and I walk freely once again.
Dear Jeanne and all of our guides in Infinity: What message of guidance do you offer us today?
Time to look up from your path and take in the wider view...
Stay connected to the bigger picture. Continually pull back out of the debris and details pointing to your inner work and your processes of growth and remind the self that there is a bigger story. You are on a journey, appointed a path of constant transition and transformation. Decide how you wish to traverse your path. It is appropriate to notice all that lies at your feet, but it is equally important to notice the sky above you and the horizon beyond you.
Take time each day to thank the self for taking the journey you are on. If you are lost in feelings so deep that you feel incapable of taking another step, you must quickly look up and regain your larger perspective.
It is only in constantly monitoring all aspects of life that one will gain the necessary tools to take the journey with full attention. Full attention means being aware of life’s journey as deeply meaningful, every part of it. Full attention means being aware that everything you have experienced in life so far and all that is to come is deeply meaningful. Full attention means shifting thoughts often, reminding the self that you are a transformational being on a transformational journey—at all times.
Full attention means accepting where you are right now as deeply meaningful and letting go of old ideas of the self so that you may discover the meaning for this moment in your life as a transformational being. Full attention means being aware that each moment is significant; each thought, feeling, emotion, regret and hope is significant in your transformational process. Full attention means never letting the true self be smothered by circumstances beyond your control. Instead, full attention requires mature presence of mind in constant balance with each moment and all that you must encounter in each moment.
A moment in time is infinite, containing infinite possibility. Full attention means grabbing onto that infinite possibility and allowing it to take you on your next step of your journey.
In full attention to all the details of life, as well as to the bigger picture, one has the opportunity to proceed along the path of transformation. Finally, while full attention asks for balance, it also asks you to accept the truths you now face. You must accept the truths of the self as they arise in order to move on into that horizon of infinite hope and possibility.
Like stacks of stones accept your truths as solid facts and then move on...
If you are stuck, caught somewhere along your path, you must come to your own rescue. Lift your head, look around you, accept your reality—the truths that batter you—and in so doing relieve yourself of the burden of them. With your eyes shifted in a new direction, take up your journey again and feel your way forward. Keep in mind that each step requires your full attention because each step you take is deeply meaningful and necessary.
Only you can discover just what meaning you are to discern from each step of your life’s journey. And only you, in full attention, have the power to transform your life as you proceed along the path that opens before you.
This is a week of commitment to the self, to life’s journey, and to taking it with your full attention and with awareness that you and every step, choice, thought, idea, truth and feeling you experience are deeply meaningful, revelatory, and absolutely necessary.
Begin today by lifting your head and looking around you, way beyond your normal circumstances and your normal point of view. Look far beyond your present life and your recent thoughts about the present self. Look at the sky above you and accept that you belong there in that life at this time. It’s up to you to take the journey to find out why.
Full attention means knowing that there is a reason for everything. Begin with knowing that you, a transformational being, are that reason. Accept your reality and then, in full attention, take the steps to change it. The power to change your life, to transform your reality, is in your hands.
Thank you Jeanne and our guides in Infinity! Channeled by Jan, most humbly and with love to you all as you journey onward.
