Pink Floyd’s 1977 Animals tour blew my teenage mind. Thousands of fans sat transfixed on the stadium grass as gigantic pigs and sheep flew in laser lights overhead. Even those who weren’t high felt like they were. Again and again the devotee behind me yelled, “Wooowwww!” so long and loud the word shook me, so visceral I can still feel it. I remember thinking what a treat it would be if he lived in my closet and every morning I opened the door to, “Wooowwww!” Barely twenty, I was already deep in my low self-esteem practice and my closet hissed and spit, “Unworthy.”
You don’t know me. Although I joined Crimson Circle in the time of Tobias, I am a silent Shaumbra, hiding until, well . . . now; appreciating all of you who appear monthly in the room, willing to receive the spotlight, sharing the light and shadow for us all, proving that among family common experience exists. Know that if you are feeling it, so am I, and please accept my deep gratitude for your fierce breathing and your frontline Shaumbra-ninja moves. Writing this feels new to me. Only a month ago I would have felt ashamed to take this step, dwelling on the memory of the piles of cookies consumed while watching you take bullets for me. Except now I have discarded my unworthiness. And, it happened in an instant.
Adamus’ list in the June 2 Shoud rang true for me. Awakening, The New Day, The Dark Night . . . pause . . . ups and downs . . . pause. My lowest low shows up as an unfulfilled wish that has been mine since before Pink Floyd, a wish that pits my beliefs against my identity, the wish responsible for my primary defeat. It is the wish to go to college. Three times I have tried and failed, first unable to decode the paperwork, then twice putting children and family before myself, and always believing I lacked access to the necessary resources.
Spiritual people do the work: meditation, yoga, energy work, shadow work, reiki, massage, etc., etc., etc., all in service to the wound. Decades of work, and still I believed I lacked the resources to succeed or even try. Not only did I fail repeatedly, despite serious effort, I also failed at healing it. It hurt as much after forty years as it did when pigs flew.
I don’t want to mislead you. I have enjoyed my life. My kids are thriving, my partner is fun and supportive, and I have created many beautiful things that are important to me. But my daily work has never been one of those things. During the Dark Night, when my awakened friends discarded their meaningless jobs and endured the resulting loss, I couldn’t do it. Although I lost everything anyway, I held on to meaningless work like it was a lifeline, and it has made me feel slightly mad for years.
Adamus inspires me and has since I studied St. Germain as a teenager. In addition to Crimson Circle, I regularly participate in partnered meditations with him and other masters. Every success I have enjoyed in my adult life has resulted from this partnership.
Earlier this year my first child graduated with a master’s degree and my wound split wide open. I found it hard to breathe. Friends didn’t understand my suffering and I couldn’t explain it. The list of reasons to let it go was long, but that didn’t change how I felt. Tortured and exhausted, asking for help and willing to do anything, I was guided to apply to a small, notable liberal arts college near my home. At once terrified I would certainly endure a fourth failure, and unable to remain wounded any longer, I hoped my action would finally put this demon to sleep. I never dreamed I would be successful at this expensive college. It felt like an exercise in futility, causing regular bouts of crippling doubt to which Adamus always remarked, “What if they give you a full ride?”
In the evening on June 1, surrounded by cakes at an annual fundraiser I coordinated, drunk on the smell of sugar, I received the email. The college’s letter said they were impressed by my commitment to my family and my community, stated I was precisely the person they were looking for, and offered me $37,000 a year to attend. I came full stop, every cell in my being buzzed, “Wooowwww!” My identity shifted. In that moment I took a leap that left unworthiness behind and I am nearly ecstatic every moment since I accepted the offer.
On June 2 Adamus said, “The true physics are: There is consciousness – the I Am. Its passion creates energy. The energy is here to serve you.” And although I did not hear that message until a week later, I allowed – and the energies served me – as if I had. Instantly, I recovered the passion I had lost so completely to years of toil and effort. I love words and I want to write – to write about subjects I will study, to finish my children’s fantasy novel series, to post on my blog, to write about discernment of media for young adults, and to write to you, dear Shaumbra. There remain many unanswered questions on my journey ahead, but I hear Adamus remind me that I can’t know how anything will turn out until I get there, and that magic exists in the form of energy serving me.
Alyson lives with her family in Oregon, USA. She studied dance and theater and loves words and music. Her first book, StarWalker and the Fairy Queen, was published in 2014 for sensitive kids who can’t tolerate violence. She continues writing her Fairies in Space series and her blog. She never dreamed she’d be the oldest person in college and, like the wizard in her books, feels (hopes) she is aging backwards. There’s more to the story, but this is the best part. Contact Alyson at www.alysonbudde.com.