Category Archives: Jan’s Blog

Welcome!

Currently, I put most of my energy into the weekly channeled messages, the daily Soulbytes, and the completion of The Recapitulation Diaries. An occasional blog does still get written when the creative urge strikes. Archived here are the blogs I wrote for many years about inner life and outer life, inner nature and outer nature. Perhaps my writings on life, as I see it and experience it, may offer you some small insight or different perspective as you take your own journey.

With gratitude for all that life teaches me, I share my experiences.

Jan Ketchel

Jan's Blog

Shame On You!

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I was way ahead of my time! Who knew salty chocolate would become so popular?
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

Shame is multilayered and multifaceted. It may be aroused by the thoughtless, unfeeling actions of another, or taken on due to a distorted, untruthful view of the self, the world, and reality. It may be instigated by a part of the self that knows better but goes ahead and does something shameful anyway.

It might only show up occasionally, when one is reminded of something one has done, not done, or had done to one. It’s an amorphous, shadowy, dark thing that’s hard to shed, and even harder to reckon with. It’s a bit like wrestling with an invisible opponent, because who can really see it? Except when it shows up, it is largely nonexistent, but say the word, “shame,” and you can feel the red heat of it spreading like wildfire.

In the story I am about to relate, having to do with a death and a chocolate cake, my own actions led me to the awareness of a deeper part of myself, a self I was not fully aware of, a part that apparently wanted me to know of its existence. In deep shame, I discovered something about myself that was shocking, abhorrent, sinful, despicable and mean, the epitome of sinister—all living within me!

Last week I wrote about the thief who lives inside me. It’s funny but I never felt ashamed of her, nor did I suffer shame around her actions. She was pretty straightforward and known, active often enough. I knew of her, the opposite of my good side, as we lived pretty much side by side, navigating life together, making decisions and choices, trying to figure out how we were going to reconcile with each other. The image of a good angel on one shoulder and a bad angel on the other comes to mind, both of whom constantly vie for attention. What I write about today is more covert, darker, hidden in the recesses of my soul.

It was 1966. I was 14. A good family friend had died, a man, an artist whom had taken an interest in me for my artistic abilities. He had a wife and a daughter. The daughter was 13 years older than me and also an artist. I considered her to be a mentor. When I heard that the man had died I was sad and wanted to do something for the family. It was in my nature to be generous and giving to others, in small personal ways, sending letters, making paintings and drawings, giving little handmade gifts.

At the time of the funeral I was visiting my cousin. She and I were not invited to the funeral; no children allowed. It was to be a small affair with the mourners invited to the family home afterwards for refreshments. My aunt, my cousin’s mother, would be going to the funeral and to the gathering afterwards.

I suggested to my cousin that we bake a cake for the gathering. My aunt thought it was a very nice idea and agreed to bring it with her. My cousin didn’t really understand my need to do something for these people whom she had no personal connection with, as I did, but I insisted. I had to do something, and in the end she was willing to join me in the project. So we set about making a cake.

We picked a recipe for a chocolate cake made from scratch. I was in charge of reading the recipe while my cousin got the ingredients together and measured everything into the mixing bowl. Everything was going along well enough as we came to the last ingredient in the recipe.

“¼ cup of salt,” I read to my cousin.

“Are you sure? That sounds like a lot of salt,” she said. I looked again.

“No, that’s right,” I said, “¼ cup of salt.”

“Check again,” she said.

I did. I saw the same thing every time I looked at the list of ingredients in the recipe: ¼ cup of salt.

“Okay,” my cousin said, a little warily, “in it goes, ¼ cup of salt!”

We mixed everything together, poured it into a baking pan, licked the beaters, and gagged! It tasted horrible! Too much salt! I went back to the cookbook, sure I had gotten it right, only to discover that I had read it totally wrong! It actually only called for a ¼ teaspoon of salt! My dyslexia had screwed things up royally.

We didn’t have enough eggs to bake a new cake, nor did we have the time, as my aunt would soon be heading off. We made an executive decision to bake the cake and see if it improved with heat. No deal! What should have been a thick and fluffy Bundt cake came out as flat as a pancake, looking more like a brownie than the grand cake we had envisioned! We debated over whether to cut a piece and taste it to see if it had indeed improved with baking.

“Do you think anyone would notice,” my cousin asked, “if we just cut a little piece?”

“Yes,” I said, “it would spoil the whole cake. We can’t send a cake with a slice taken out of it. Let’s sprinkle it with confectionary sugar and just hope for the best. Maybe no one will notice.”

For good measure, I topped it off with some purple violets, picked from outside the kitchen door, poked into the center of the cake. When we sent it off it looked perfectly fine; though a thin, dense cake, it looked rich and dark.

For the rest of the day my cousin and I were in agony. Though we laughed hysterically and somewhat meanly at the thought of people actually eating it, gagging as we had, we also knew what we had done.

Would they actually serve it? Would anyone eat it? What would they do or say if it turned out to be as bad as we expected it to be? As generous and thoughtful as the gift of a cake had originally been, we knew we had decided to test the fates, that a part of us was willing to risk all for a bad cake!

It did not go well. My aunt returned and confronted us. No one could eat the terrible cake. Did we know we had made a bad cake? We pleaded and pretended ignorance. But we knew what we had done and we also knew we would have to live out the consequences of our decision.

The story of the bad cake did not end there. The widow wrote my cousin and I a note thanking us for sending the cake; it had meant a lot to her that we’d been so thoughtful. She had served it with whipped cream and berries, but no one could eat it. “Was that some kind of joke?” she wrote. When I read her note I could feel her pain. I could see her preparing to serve the cake, all dolled up with cream and berries, triumphantly placing it on the table next to the coffee and tea cups, a nice gift from two sweet young women, and I felt terrible.

I was old enough to know that my actions had hurt a family that was suffering greatly, people I truly liked and admired, people I really did care about. What I had done had put them in an awkward, uncomfortable, if not mortifying position at a time when they were deeply grieving the loss of their beloved husband and father. It was a cruel joke to play on anyone, because the truth was my cousin and I did treat it as a joke, and a very bad one at that.

I don’t think the story went much beyond that small group of people who actually tasted the cake or were present at the cake eating. I have no recollection of being scolded by my parents, as would surely have been the case had they known about it. But I did have to live with what I had done, with the sinister character who lived inside me and did mean things to other people.

As I recapitulate that day, I realize it was mostly my decision to send the cake off, clothed in its beautiful sugar and flowers, like a poison apple looking all shiny and delicious. I truly did want to be generous, but there was another part of me, an imp in me, who was angry for not being invited to the funeral. I understand now how she was compensating for my ego attitude that said I must be gracious and giving when in fact I was really pissed. A year later the same family had a wedding, the daughter got married, and once again, no kids invited. Once again I was pissed, though I did not make another cake!

I came to recognize and know this dark little imp better over the years, as she popped up often enough, a troublemaker, an energetic entity who lived inside me and was daring enough to do some pretty harebrained things. She pushed the envelope on many an occasion, challenging me to go beyond my normally good self, granting many exhilarating experiences in return, those blissful moments of highly intense energy like nothing else in the world, and her voice inside, goading me, saying, “Are you going to do it? Really? Come on, do it! Do it!”

Yikes, the shameful things I have done! And once done there were those deeply embarrassing consequences to contend with as well.

The imp inside me is still active and she can still lead me into bad places and many experiences that I would otherwise avoid. But I am thankful for her now, grateful for how she leads the way into those numinous experiences of joy and excitement, those exhilarating experiences of life that I would otherwise never have had the opportunity to taste. Oh, the lessons I have learned!

And I deal with the consequences of my actions in a more mature way now too, seeing how everything that I do, good and bad, offers something, is part of the whole package of who I am in this lifetime. It’s all  part of the grand unfolding of me and my life, leading me toward the greater fullness of who I really am, both good and bad.

When C. G. Jung had to face the impish side of himself he just allowed himself to cheat! He was known to cheat at all the games he played with his children, and even some adults. He couldn’t help himself!

If you want to achieve any kind of wholeness you really do have to live the fullness that you are!

Recapitulating the shame of it all,

Jan

A blog by Jan Ketchel

Author of The Recapitulation Diaries

Jan's Blog

The Thief Who Lives Inside Me

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There is a thief who lives inside me. She’s quiet and stealthy, good at what she does. She used to steal little things, a comb or a lipstick from the drug store, instinctively knowing how to slide it up her sleeve slowly and covertly, like a magician hiding a sword. She never got caught stealing little things, nor did she do it that often, only when in the company of other equally daring teenagers. When I was a grown up, in my twenties and living and working in Stockholm, Sweden as a freelance artist, the thief inside me returned from wherever she’d been hanging out and struck again.

I was working on a project with the Creative Director of a large international advertising agency. He was American, newly hired to take over the small but busy office in downtown Stockholm. I was a freelance artist and had been introduced to him through an acquaintance. I did the work that was required and submitted my bill. The honest perfectionist inside me, always careful to follow directions, noticed that at the bottom of the detailed instructions for submitting a bill was the statement to “submit two copies.” So I did. A few weeks later I got paid, and it was a substantial sum for those days; the advertising world always paid well. Then, a week later, I got a second check in the mail. How could this be? Were they paying me double, once for the sketches, as was common, and once for the final artwork, or was this a result of the request to submit two copies of the bill, as I had so dutifully done?

I approached the Creative Director, letting him know that I was confused. Why did I get paid twice? He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “It’s just a mistake,” he finally said. New to the position and perhaps not wanting to be seen making mistakes, he told me to just ignore it, to keep the money, as it would be too hard to undo. It bothered me, but I kept the money, or the thief inside me did, or both of us did. I felt guilty about it for a long time and a lot of energy was lost to the stress of wondering if the company would come after me to return the money. Nothing happened. Eventually, I surmised that the company never realized their mistake. I breathed a sigh of relief and the thief inside me settled back down into her hideout.

I can’t say I haven’t seen her since, though I did make a pact with myself after that to try and be more honest. It’s harder than you think. What do you do when someone gives you the wrong change, when an item you are buying doesn’t get scanned at the cash register, when someone makes a mistake that benefits you, even just a little? There were minor incidences over the years when I would take what was provided, or not. Sometimes I’d feel justified that the universe must want me to have something, that someone else’s mistake was my gain. After all, it wasn’t my fault if someone wasn’t paying attention. But then I recapitulated and things changed.

In recapitulation I confronted the thief who lives inside me, remembered all the times she stole something, took something, got away with something. As I said, she was good at what she did and she never got caught, though I would suffer knowing that I took something that did not really belong to me, no matter the circumstances of how it landed in my hands. We met face to face in recapitulation, consciously and deliberately. I could not ignore her nor simply expel her from my life; she’s as much a part of me as my honest self is.

I acknowledged her and her desire to take what did not rightfully belong to her while she acknowledged me and my desire to be honest. Why did she steal in adolescence? It was a daring, thrilling act that left her feeling powerful; for once she was in control. It not only compensated for the lack of control in my life but may actually have helped me survive, given me just a tad of badly needed self-confidence.

As we recapitulated we agreed that stealing wasn’t right, but also that being straightforwardly honest wasn’t always right either. Sometimes it’s just better to not say something than to offend. Sometimes it’s just better to be tactful and walk away. In the end, we agreed that being able to discriminate, to have empathy, and to do what was really right in any particular moment or circumstance should win out. I also had to admit that there were situations where stealing might be absolutely right and necessary and I reserved the right to exercise that option should it arise. It’s not just a black and white issue; nothing ever really is.

In recapitulation the thief inside me and I met each other openly and honestly. We confronted our deepest issues with each other and reconciled our differences. We allowed how we really did need each other, how we each had our place in the grand scheme of life. We now live together in harmony. Yes, I was bad, but now I’m good and bad!

In recapitulation all parts of the self are acknowledged and integrated and the result is a more even and flowing life, all parts exposed and on board, in good alignment and willing to work things out rather than simply compensate for each other by going to the opposite extreme. It’s a great way to live.

Always recapitulating,

Jan

Chuck's Blog, Jan's Blog, The Monogamy Dialogues

The Monogamy Dialogues: Sacred Sex

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Why is sex so unsatisfying?

At its animal core, sex is an instinct, a biological urgency that comes and goes at nature’s prompting, on nature’s time, toward nature’s end. Most sex in nature appears particularly fast and violent and rarely results in a lasting relationship, in fact, for most animals it results in no postcoital connection.

Create sacred time… consciously…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

In contrast, the human animal, freed from its purely instinctual promptings can choose to engage in sex at will. Consciousness, what we refer to as spirit, introduces the possibility of choice as to when one might engage in sex.  For instance we might say, “I love you all the time, but sex is sacred. It needs its own time and space, sacred time.” Animals never have this choice.

Additionally, consciousness, when applied to sexual energy, enables it to be elaborated into a union within the self in the merging of physical and energy bodies—the two distinct human components: matter and spirit—as well as the possibility of a profound union with another human being, as well as a complete merger into the experience of cosmic oneness.

The word sacred means to set apart, to make holy, to consecrate. The decision to set apart, to regulate the sexual instinct for the holy purpose of consecration, that is, a transformation into a numinous experience of oneness with self  or with self and another being, is the intent of sacred sex.

To set aside a definite time for sexual union separates sex from its biological dominance, raising it to an honored, holy status. Hormones have their own timetables, but deciding the day of union is completely spirit based. Spirit says to body, “I invite you to be fully present, fully engaged, at this time and place. I am fully prepared to receive and join with you, this is my solemn commitment.”

Much of life can be dominated by the biological pressure and mental preoccupation with sex. That pressure in an individual may encourage frequent masturbation, in couples an ever-present expectation or burden. Setting aside a definite day within which sacred sex will occur relieves, ultimately, the individual or couple of this animal dominance of being.

At first, of course, the animal will resist. What horse or dog willingly allows itself to be tamed and trained? However, once the instinct sees that this is how it is, that it must wait, patiently, but that ultimately it will be rewarded with deep union and release, it will get on board.

Getting on board means accepting the set-apart time as the time, the only time, the sacred time of sex. All other time is not the time, hence, sexual thoughts, feelings and sensations must be stored to allow for mastery and refinement of formerly unbridled instinct.

And then, when it is time, it is time, sacred time. The commitment is to show up at the agreed upon, set-apart time, body and spirit. Just as the body had to submit to waiting, the spirit must submit to fully showing up, regardless of inner resistance. In the case of partner sex this is not about fulfilling an obligation to another, this is about honoring a sacred commitment to self. Marital duty, for instance, has no place in sacred sex.

Of course, the quality of each meeting is unique. Each partner must be extremely sensitive to the being it seeks to join with. Body has its definite needs, wants and desires, but spirit has its own intentions. To bring the two together in deep union requires a genuine meeting of both these bodies, physical and spiritual. The depth of each meeting depends upon how deeply each of these bodies is connected with, within and without. True connection requires deep knowing of self and other.

The practice of sacred sex is always unique, the growing closeness cumulative. The utter freedom and playfulness, in its sacred, set-apart time and space, allows for a merging with the divine that lives completely outside of time and space.

The rules are simple: deep respect, no coercion, plan with sincerity and openness, show up, see what happens. Obviously, sex needn’t be sacred sex to be right, but sacred sex is offered as a potential mature practice. Have fun with the planning too, make it special, allow no interferences in your sacred time and sacred space; keep it holy.

Even Reni Murez, a direct apprentice of Carlos Castaneda, Carol Tiggs, Florinda Donner-Grau, and Taisha Abelar, acknowledges that although shamans store and use their sexual energy for conscious dreaming and out-of-body travel they also must balance their humanness. After all, they are currently here in human animal form just like the rest of us. Reni agrees that setting apart a special time for sex, be it once weekly, monthly, yearly, or once a decade, provides a sacred opportunity for human union, but also allows for sexual energy to be used at other times for other spiritual work.

No partner? No problem! Either save sexual energy for future union, with the intention that the right relationship will come to pass and that the stored energy will not be taken or squandered but used as planned, or engage in sacred sexual union with self alone, merging spirit and physical body in love.

Physical limitations? With spirit involved nothing is impossible! Perhaps the playing field might move over into dreaming where energy body and physical body can experience the deepest sexual union. Here sacred sex asks the dreaming intent to take over and arrange the magical, sacred meeting outside of time and space.

To get back to the question with which we opened this blog—why is sex so unsatisfying?—we propose the following: it simply isn’t sacred enough! We offer the path of sacred sex as a path of heart.

Of course, if one is in the midst of traumatic recapitulation or a spiritual practice that requires sexual abstinence, the practice of sacred sex is one of sacrifice and abstinence, as the energy of union is deployed toward healing and spiritual transformation instead. Nonetheless, such deployment can be understood as sacred sex employed to the needs and intent of self for the highest good. Indeed a path of heart!

Keeping it holy,

Chuck & Jan

Chuck's Blog, Jan's Blog, The Monogamy Dialogues

The Monogamy Dialogues: Projectile Dysfunction

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The projections we launch into our partners are the greatest cause of dysfunction in relationships, indeed, these alone can be the cause of erectile dysfunction itself!

The manly sun…
– Art by Jan Ketchel

Both men and women have masculine and feminine sides within themselves, perhaps best symbolized by the sun and the moon.

For instance, suppose a man expects his sexual desire to be as instant as the sun itself that rises, fully, each day. However, inwardly, his inner woman—that is his anima, the feminine side of a man—may in fact be in a phase of her feeling cycle where she simply isn’t immediately responsive to his conscious sun-driven erotic intent.

This man, unaware of his true inner feeling state of non-readiness for sex, is likely to look over at his partner and “see” or project onto her, his inner anima, as lacking any erotic interest in him.

“You never approach me to have sex, I always have to initiate,” he might despairingly utter. “I don’t think you desire me physically.”

These could be his challenges to his partner. Of course, if there were any desire on the partner’s side, or an openness to exploring possibly having sex, this approach likely kills that possibility. Further, if the couple then tries to force coitus in this dysfunctional relational state, it is indeed likely that the penis itself might choose to go on a flaccid strike and ED, erectile dysfunction, ensues.

Women are very much under the influence of the waxing and waning of the moon, which corresponds to the menstrual cycle with respect to feelings, moods, desires, and physical comforts/discomforts. Women also have an inner man—the animus, the masculine side of a woman—who functions on the mental plane in the background of her psyche.

This inner man might take the form of a warrior who protects his woman. Perhaps this woman in the example above is preoccupied with the dark side of the moon in her emotional cycle, definitely not interested in sex,  just wanting to  remain innerly with her mood. Unbeknownst to her, and in her defense, her animus might launch into a critical attack upon her partner when he suggests she’s not interested in sex.

“You didn’t text me all day, I guess staying connected isn’t that important to you,” she might pose. “Seems like the only time you listen to me attentively is when you think there’s a chance for sex.”

These kinds of preemptive “attacks” are likely to accomplish keeping her partner at bay while embroiling the two in a standoff.

Alternatively, a woman’s animus may decide to override her true emotional and physical state with the intention of pleasing her partner. This sets up an inner civil war, as her dominant feminine nature will not be happy at being coerced into having sex. Her feminine nature might shut down her receptivity and sexual sensitivity, resulting in being unable to climax. She might project disappointment onto her partner for being unable to please her or she might sink into a depression at her own failure to “perform.” Here we have the feminine version of ED.

In men, the masculine sun dominates—things are either black or white, on or off. Men’s thinking seeks total clarity and knowing. This kind of thinking happens at any time, is not subject to the tides or the phases of the moon. However, deep within himself a man is very influenced by the phases of the moon. Often his female partner senses this and has to manage his moods on a daily basis, though he himself might characterize himself as completely rational, unaware of the influence of his emotions upon his life.

Moon woman…
– Art by Jan Ketchel

Similar to a man, a woman is very much under the influence of her own inner man, with his hidden plots to protect, attack, or manipulate life through his own mental processes. Just as a woman might easily recognize the power of a man’s mood, which she has to manage, a man is often likewise aware of the intractable thinking of his partner in the part of herself that she is unaware is so dominant in her own psyche.

The ability to recognize and take responsibility for one’s self, including the contrasexual elements, the anima and animus, by working on them on an inner level before they explode outwardly and take over a relationship, clears the confusion that leads to dysfunction in relationships. With projectiles disarmed, true connection is possible. Sun and moon meet within each partner who then can meet in real union.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Chuck & Jan

Jan's Blog

Jan’s Dream Insights: Kill The Cobra

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I have been dreaming again. Last Saturday, we published the following dream with our Soulbyte for the day, after the Paris attacks, as it clearly foreshadowed what occurred in Paris on Friday night. Here it is:

Insights from the night bring light into the day... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Insights from the night bring light into the day…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

On Thursday night, I had a numinous dream in which a huge energetic force sucked all energy from the earth, destroying all of nature, revealing what lay buried in the depths of the earth, a large coiled cobra. Then a giant tidal wave came and washed over everything, bringing a new order. I stood calmly as all of this took place around me. After the tidal wave I calmly walked away, followed by the cobra, to higher ground, but all that had been was transformed. The valley that had been a river was now the ocean, transformed from the personal to the universal. This is what I understood as important now: the new world order is universal love and compassion.

Last night I had another dream in which I heard a loud booming voice say: Kill the cobra in the bathtub! At first I thought it ridiculous, there was no cobra in the bathtub! And secondly, I couldn’t kill anything, let alone a cobra, the symbol of spiritual awakening and universal consciousness in my earlier dream!

Upon reflection, I realize that is exactly what must happen. We must kill the cobra in the bathtub. Not to be misconstrued as killing the enemy, but as per the following meaning:

If we are all spirits living a human existence our challenge is to bring spirit fully into our human lives. To do that we must suffer. There must be sacrifice. Think of Christ on the cross, Buddha under the bodhi tree, Jesus in Gethsemane, all examples of suffering leading to enlightenment.

Marie-Louise von Franz, in Shadow and Evil in Fairytales tells a tale of a white horse that guides and protects the protagonist. The white horse tells the protagonist that in order to be saved in the end the protagonist must cut the horse into pieces and throw its severed parts to the four directions. The protagonist is horrified at the idea of killing this beautiful horse that has been its savior and companion, but at the crucial moment does the deed and all is well. Now, back to the cobra in the bathtub.

In the first dream, the cobra followed me and now it’s in the bathtub. It went from the ocean, the collective unconscious, to a small body of water, a bathtub. It’s in too small a container. The bathtub is personal consciousness, a small body of water over which man has control. The cobra in the bathtub is under control of the ego, though its real home is the ocean, the deeper, uncontrollable unconscious, which it longs to return to. Thus, a cobra contained is madness bursting to be free. It is the urge to go to war.

When the cobra followed me out of the ocean in my first dream, it was foreshadowing what was to follow if the natural balance was not maintained. In the first dream all was as it should be, nature restored to balance, though greatly transformed. The cobra, in following me, was hinting that there was more to come.

Restore the balance... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Restore the balance…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

The truth is, the cobra doesn’t belong in the bathtub, it belongs in the ocean. In its containment it is going mad and thus has to be killed. Out of the sacrifice of the cobra will come healing, for the snake is a symbol of healing, yet it is also a symbol of destruction. The cobra specifically has a helmet-like mantel that when expanded means it is about to strike, so watch out!

The cobra is like the Goddess Isis that Chuck wrote about in his blog this week, a symbol of the dark and the light, life and death, destruction and healing. The lesson is that these contrasts must be kept in balance. And the greater unconscious does not belong in a tiny bathtub, as the human ego is quickly overwhelmed. It can only take in the fullness of what lies in the collective unconscious a little at a time or it will go mad. This happens to people who experience true reality in visions and overwhelming insights, they often go mad.

So what does this have to do with ISIS and world events? The lesson is that we must rid ourselves of the ego attitude that the cobra in the bathtub signifies, it is too powerful and unwieldy. We are kidding ourselves if we think we can contain this madness. We must sacrifice its deadly urge to strike, its dark side of hate and destruction and find the healing answer in love. We must all kill, within ourselves, the urge to go mad with hatred. We must overcome our passion for destruction.

Yogananda’s teacher, Yukteswar when confronted by a deadly cobra that rushed angrily at him, with hood expanded, conquered it with his love.*

The ego continues to toy with the cobra, wondering how it will tame it, but we must remember that the cobra is deadly. It will not be contained and nothing the ego comes up with will subdue it. Kill the mad cobra by seeking refuge in love, which releases the healing power of the snake, and then the Goddess energy returns to natural balance, as shown in my first dream.

The Soulbytes and the Message from Jeanne this week have all been about stabilizing the ego and remaining focused on what is right. Monday’s audio message implied that those who pray are innocent at heart, i.e., it is not Islam that is the enemy but the disenfranchised, misguided and misdirected youth unable to find meaning in today’s world.

As Hermann Hesse stated when the German youth were being drawn to antisemitism preceding World War II: “…the form of [antisemitism] with us now among misled German youth does a lot of harm, because it prevents these young people from seeing the world as it is and because disastrously it encourages the tendency to seek out a scapegoat on which to blame everything that goes wrong.” **

We must keep in mind that we are spirits living a human existence and as such we must each create our own bridge from the spirit realm to the human realm. I bring what I learn in my channelings and my dreams, daring to speak of what comes through me.

Even just a little love will do the trick! - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Even just a little love will do the trick!
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

Much as I would rather just recoil back into my own little world, I feel the obligation of these dreams and messages as they ask me to leave my comfy quiet and put out what comes through. I have, after all, resolved to walk this path of spirit more fully. It is what we must all decide to do now.

The messages are clear: Love, which will only fully release from the the healing power of sacrifice, is the answer.

Jan

* Autobiography of a Yogi, p. 98.

** Portrait of Hesse, Bernhard Zeller p. 98