There are no words to describe the loss of the community we founded on Facebook. There is no describing what happens when sacred space is lost or stolen and desanctified.
Reminds me of the battles the soul fought in the American West ~ to retain the connection to Wakantanka, only to have the God of white man's conception replace the God of interconnectedness with creation. You can say that we wept mightily ~ came back again and again and again ~ to restore humanity's rightful place in the order of the Universe: honor and respect. (only the ones who stole the page don't have any posts about God, even, and that is, perhaps merciful ~ because the only thing more devastating, more horrible, than desecrating divine space is to pass darkness off as Godly. whew!)
But I digress ... what else does this remind me of? ... the lifetime when somehow... I had been captain of a ship, or first mate, or someone charged with the duty of keeping human cargo alive - someone responsible for maintaining law, order, and safety aboard the vessel. And then ... catastrophe struck - men drowned and died, taken hostage. And though I looked and looked and tried and tried, could not find my beloved mates.
Makes me wonder whether this was somehow karmic.
Then ... just two weeks before the Page was stolen ... I had yet another recollection... it was so clear ... It was a time in history where construction was with big stone and boulder - a place that was cold and tended to be overcast. I had been abducted. And I believe I was female - though I can't tell because, as strange as this may sound, I didn't have the ability to see my body - in the recollection, I am frozen at key events, and most of those events have me unable to see much of anything.
All I know is that it seems I had been suddenly and inexplicably abducted - from a narrow cobblestone street - Paris? London? - and hauled into custody. There was no trial, there was no due process - I was simply thrown in a dungeon somewhere, in a building that had a flat-roofed tower.
In this dungeon there were high windows that cast some very dim light into the space, and the prisoners were hung up from the ceiling with long shackles - like sacks of potatoes - arms and feet. We hung dangling there for a long, long time. You couldn't see a thing because your choices were to look down at the floor or to strain the neck upward toward the ceiling. There was no part of the body that was visible, nor anyone else's bodies, either. On occasion, they would lower us just enough for rats to nibble at our feet and then raise us high again, or retension the chains so that our arms would feel like they were being ripped out of the sockets. As far as eating, I don't think we were fed ... and we never were lowered to go to the bathroom, as far as I can tell.
I was there for so long that death would have been a mercy. From what I could tell in this stunningly clear but super brief snippet of 'recall' was that I hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to my loved ones - and I could hear the then-thought process: worry about the slander being told of me to my friends, family and 'associates' by my captors, their safety, and heartbreak that I could not reach them to warn them and tell them what happened.
[While 'seeing' this unfold from the vantage point of the third eye and clearly accessing the feelings, although dim, I had a knowingness that at the relevant time, I was very casual about the exercise of speech - I was not an enemy of the state necessarily, but I surely didn't approve of it, and was quite vocal about that. We had had no idea, in my cluster of friends, that even speaking could land a person in the 'clink,' but having discovered that fact, I wanted desperately to find a way to reach the others and warn them not to talk anymore. And alongside those concerns, there had been the distinctive feeling that my captors would go back to my people and, if rounding them up, say I had 'dropped them in,' which would have been a total lie: they never as much said one word to me during my apprehension or at any time following it. That is what made this entire experience so 'weird:' I had expected massive torture with a request to drop people in and it never came! It seemed so pointless to have locked me up. And that pointlessness is what really killed me in that lifetime: human life had been reduced to pointlessness. Just like it seems for me now.]
Other than those thoughts, I wanted to die. Then one day, I got my wish. I saw a small force of men enter this space - from where I 'hung' I could not perceive any part of my body - it was mostly numb by then and I knew had I been taken down and told to stand, I would have collapsed. They unceremoniously disconnected me from the shackles and forcibly dragged me to a wooden table off on the right side of the room. Then the world went black - like a sack when over my head or something. I was killed but have no idea how.
And then, in this recall (which happened while I was at the desk - this all took place in the space of about 10 minutes) - I heard an inner voice say, "It's about to happen again!"
So what did this vision mean? Was it imagination? Was it symbolic?
Although I do have the physical sensation similar to having arms ripped out from the sockets thanks to the unresolved biomechanical instability in the neck, there was nothing apparently similar in this time and space to cause me to dream anything like that up, nor recall anything like that ~ other than, perhaps, my unconscious feelings about the physical limitations I have - which are torturous and have physically kept me tied up for many years, now. But why the warning of about to happen again??
I spoke to several friends who too are lighthealers about this to reach the bottom of it - was this past life recollection or was it pictorial representation of how I feel in THIS lifetime? ~ None of us could get to the bottom of what this meant.
THEN ... two weeks later, the Facebook Community that I loved as much as my breath, was stolen out from under my dearest friend and I, the co-founders. And there you have it: once again, I was unable to reach loved ones in the face of death, could not say good bye. Worse still, the essential nature of the Page, which had been founded in divine love, is, energetically speaking, now a trash heap. In a less imperfect world, I would be informing those folks that associating with those energies will keep them bound in pain and suffering and undo any apparently positive message they seem to post ~ but the world of Facebook is much too imperfect for that, even.
Now I am out, free: the murder happened. My eyes are open and I see. But my people are still alive down there, blindly trusting that what they say and do will not have any negative consequences to their liberty, to their quality of life ~ they believe that spreading love and joy will continue to happen.
They have no idea that the very regime that made that all possible is a massive dungeon dressed in disguise - and it's just a question of time before their love and kindness is swallowed up in a meaningless, useless display of force that the King is not only fully aware of, but set up in the first place.
But now I know better. I can't even stomach seeing the log in screen.
PS ~ Ironically, I had been logged into the Page at the time of the hostile takeover, but I'd say an hour before I was locked out and couldn't get back in, I was scheduling posts, and I 'heard,' "Instead of creating posts, don't you want to go to the post history and retrieve your old ones?" Folks, any time you have an invitation to do something or take action (or refrain from action) don't even ask why - don't question, don't second-guess - just follow. I wish I had! Precognition is not always something we know is kicking in - so just assume that any hunch is there to help guide through a process.
And about Facebook Community Pages - Collecting money for post promotion and then knowingly allowing others to steal the very property being promoted sure smells like fraud to me ~ but who cares? I'm just one of the little people ~ and in today's global economy, isn't robbing from little people how real money is made? lool
No comments:
Post a Comment