Where the River Leads
When I travel back in time, I often make discoveries parallel to what we experience today. No matter what we are concerned about, we are usually not talking about something new that has just been put into place. Nothing happens by accident, as you know.
At times, we are unconsciously sensing fragments of history that have not been illuminated, discussed, or mentioned. We are creatures used to navigating a forbidden past—twisted or erased, leaving layers of mysterious but authentic fear and shame in its place. Stopping to look is frightening, so we continue to cling to whatever it is that we know—good or bad. That’s what requires undoing.
Correcting and healing are impossible if we are afraid to look. Finding one’s way is unattainable when the light is blocked. Yet many signs and symbols are undeniable, hiding in plain sight. Unfortunately, we have become creatures that rely solely on what we are told. This pertains to fashion, food, homes, cars, music, entertainment, and more, on an endless list. Sadly, this telling of what to do goes as far as whether or not we will embrace or reject people—each other. It falls under the category of social engineering and basic programming.
It seems we have lost our way, not knowing who we are collectively and, more importantly, as individuals or a species. We tend to go with the flow but have no idea where the river leads. Many who find themselves swirling in this place will go to great lengths to grab branches, rocks, and anything that seems to be sticking out along the bank. For it appears to be quite perilous to move along. We don’t know where the rapids are, where the current ends, or if it dries up.
When my river carried me past the anonymous graves, I had no idea that it would, in fact, sweep me away from the main body of water that I knew. I had no life vest, no map, and no markers in any sense of the word. It was time to practice what I preached to my children for all of those years—reach deep inside, pull out my own compass, and follow it.
It is common for me to sense where negativity lingers, as I did when I became aware of the cemetery and many other places. When I pass by such sites where the energy is so dark, it makes me feel as if I could throw up from the devastating impact. I usually find out at some point in time what unfolded at that scene. Knowing, speaking, writing, and rewriting, and returning it to the light is the beginning of healing.
At the initial point of tuning in, I feel the pain and suffering. This is how most of us operate without always knowing what we are picking up. Our instincts are like radar, and we might just have a twinge, a feeling that something is amiss. It could be at a place of anything involving trauma, where the energy lingers.
It could be tragedy or grief passed down from generation to generation. This tapestry is commonly threaded tightly into our DNA, instilling fear or pain that we cannot trace until we decide to face what came before us.
It has been piling up, on, and within us for generations—hundreds of years or more. We are buried beneath an avalanche of trauma, yet we try to carry on. Our wiring is so tangled and damaged, we can barely function. Until we have the tools to unwire, release, and rewire, we will continue to carry these complex burdens and attempt to operate from them.
With all that is being shown to us, all of the turmoil and human suffering, we have a choice. We can roll up our sleeves and jump into the bubbling pot. Or we can choose awareness and a path to harmony.
Harmony? You ask. How is that possible?
Know yourself. Maintain your beliefs, but do not judge others—not now and certainly not in the past. Acknowledgment outperforms judgment. There are more positive outcomes when we accept that we cannot be all-knowing. Yet, we can remain open to all possibilities.
Yes, you can stand in your truth, and you must. However, it is meaningless if you lack the grace and strength to exist without hatred and judgment. We will never be able to get to the other side if we cannot exchange weapons for tools and work together to build a bridge. Can’t you see? The old bridge is crumbling. Let it go.