In a conversation the other day, a friend was telling me how she’s really beginning to sense all the parts and pieces of so many things coming together. No matter what the human-level challenges might be, the wisdom is also right here, so close and accessible, even if a little hard to define. As I listened, her words triggered a whole picture-story in my mind.
Imagine we are chefs who came to Kitchen Earth to make a grand and glorious pot of soup. First, there were the basics. Simple ingredients like potatoes and carrots; simple lifetimes just learning how to be here. A lot of lifetimes spent gathering, washing, peeling, chopping, preparing and practicing, while our Kitchen became filled with ingredients and debris strewn all around. Sometimes a lifetime is full of pain and tears, but, like the onion we’ve been chopping, the incredible flavor it adds to the end result is worth every sniffle. Other lifetimes were like peppers and ginger and spices, provoking lots of sneezing and watering eyes, but they too added so much to the pot.
And now comes this lifetime. All the ingredients have been prepared, the pot is filling with the warm broth of self-love, and the ingredients are going in. Not all at once, of course, but each in their own perfect sequence and time. Remember years ago when Tobias mentioned how in this lifetime we’ve replayed many of the patterns and events from other lives, just to help bring everything together? It’s a bit like gathering all the little bowls and piles of ingredients that we’ve been grating, shredding and processing and taking one last look and sniff as we toss them in the pot. They bring back a lot of memories and maybe even the desire to chop them a little finer, but no need to go through the whole operation again. (Come to think of it, this kind of brings a whole new meaning to “processing.” No wonder we don’t need to do that anymore, all our stuff has been through the “food processor” already, multiple times!)
And now, most everything has been integrated – er, added to the pot – and we’re just tweaking the salt and pepper, washing up, and putting things away. Wait, what’s that amazing aroma? Ah, it must be the wisdom!
Yes, our work here is done. It’s only a matter of time until this exquisite concoction is finally ready. But then what?
That particular question has been very close to me lately, especially after the unexpected departure of dear Sart. Will I really stay when everything’s done? That has always been my desire, but will it be compelling enough when the moment comes to choose? The fact is, I want to stick around and enjoy this meal I’ve put so much effort into creating! I want to taste it and smell it and feel it all with all my senses, human and divine. Sure, it might inspire others, maybe give them an idea of what all their slicing and dicing is really leading to, but that’s just a side benefit. I want to have my soup and eat it too!
The aroma is so enticing as I breathe in the essence, the wisdom of every heartache and tear and joy and laugh. From my perspective now, every single bit of it has been so precious, even if I couldn’t see it at the time. Indeed, the gentle breath, so filled with the scent of life and wisdom, is already extremely satisfying. But I want to embody my creation. I want to take it in and make it part of me. I want to relish every single bite of this sweet, savory, salty, spicy mélange, not chug it all down at once. That, more than anything else, is why I want to stay.
So, then the question comes, how will I stay? There’s no question that the Kitchen has gotten pretty messy and crowded with all these chefs milling around, most of whom have no idea yet of what they’re doing. (Honestly, sometimes it feels like they set their blender on puree and forgot to add the lid!) Will I be so fed up with the mess that I just take my soup and run? Or will I fill my bowl, clear a spot at the table, and savor it right here for all the world to see? I wonder what might happen when all those chefs catch a glimpse of the end result. Maybe there’s a bit of a show-off in me that wants to prove to them it can be done, but mostly I just want to enjoy and delight in my very rich soup before moving on to other adventures. So, perhaps it’s time to start practicing.
For this ‘practice,’ there are a lot of options. One might be what I did a couple months ago, although I don’t really recommend it.
When I was with the crew in Hawaii working on several productions, some part of me decided to play with a very bad case of food poisoning. Quite incapacitated for an entire day, my time was split between bedroom and bathroom, and at one point I totally passed out and crumpled to the stone floor. In a strange way, though, I was still sort of conscious, and dimly aware of being involved in several other “realities” including a ProGnost event, a Crimson Circle meeting of some kind, a group of relatives, and a few other things I couldn’t quite make out. As my awareness drifted and tried to participate in these things, there would be a very clear command, “No, this can wait. Go take care of your body.” I slowly realized that my body was somewhere on the floor and needed my attention, but oh, I did NOT want to go back to it! Wherever I was, wandering among the dimensions, I felt sooooo relaxed and warm and safe. Nothing hurt, I wasn’t sick, everything felt wonderful. But another part of me insisted, “Come on, you have to get up.” It took a supreme effort of will to reconnect, slowly get my body off the floor, and deal with my very unpleasant physical reality.
While I wouldn’t recommend this particular type of “practice,” the memory of it has stayed with me. It wasn’t some grand cosmic consciousness, just a brief dissociation from a very uncomfortable and semi-functional body. And yes, an experiene of my multi-dimensional nature. But I’m still surprised at how hard it was to come back!
Perhaps there are other ways to practice, like fire fighters who create mockup emergency situations without burning down the forest.
Adamus (and now Sart) has mentioned having a reconnection object, something special that you connect with on a regular basis that specifically helps anchor you into this reality. (It’s an important part of DreamWalking and will probably be explained more in times to come.)
I’ve talked about being fully present in your physical body by intimately tuning in to yourself, feeling your essence as it inhabits your body, sensing how you take up space, how the air touches your skin, how your clothes feel, how the body moves through space, the organs doing their work, and so on. It’s a very effective way of being here and is similar to what others call being ‘grounded.’
Adamus has also talked about sensuality, opening the senses beyond just the human tools of perception. In Master’s Life 4 – Sensuality as well as his Sensuality Clinic, there are incredibly beautiful opportunities to really embody and experience more of our amazing senses. We’ve been in the Kitchen so long that we forgot about all the wonders beyond it. Imagine now opening back up and experiencing our soul soup with some of those other means of perception. What a way to embody our own yummy creation!
No doubt Adamus will have even more advice about this very soon. But I think the point is to make a conscious choice now, not wait until my Self sneaks up on my human and says, “Boo – I’m here!” and I literally jump out of my skin and spill my soup. Well, it might not be quite like that, but I’ve decided to stop thinking of Realization as some mysterious event that creeps up on me out of nowhere, and instead think of it as something I can actually choose and prepare for. It’s just me, after all, remembering my Self and who I really am beyond this physical realm.
What to do in the meantime, while the enticing aroma of the almost-ready soup fills my senses, making my mouth water and my human impatient? Sometimes I feel I’ve been working on this soup for ages and don’t want to wait a minute longer; and sometimes it feels like I just came into the Kitchen yesterday and should slow down and procrastinate just a little more. I suppose that’s the and of creation, but the fact is, I’ve completed the recipe. There’s nothing more to chop or process or perfect. Everything’s in the pot and I’ve tweaked it to the nth degree. I don’t even need to stir it anymore, and the timer will sound the moment it’s ready. All there is for me to do now is breathe and wait while it simmers to succulent perfection.
Any cook will tell you that there comes a time when you have to step away from the stove and simply wait while the alchemy happens. This is the time of allowing the magic. As a chef, my work is done. As a connoisseur, my joy is just beginning.
So, yes, I’m going to stay a while. When that timer rings, you’ll find me staring out the window, bridging the worlds, and relishing every last drop of the very best soup in all creation.