Master Hilarion June update

Dear Ones,

The Master Hilarion June update is available. Please see the link below. Interestingly enough, what is mentioned in the third paragraph is what I’ve been experiencing as of late; and that is an amazing, truly amazing, gift.

Here is what the third paragraph says,

“We, from the spiritual realms of existence, can now communicate more easily with many, many of you, and those of you who are not used to hearing and receiving our thoughts and communications are finding this an amazing phenomenon. It is time! The veils have thinned. We can now communicate on a moment by moment basis. We can answer your questions as they come to you. All you have to do is intend that it be so and we are there to answer that which you desire to know more about.”

Please, please, dear Ones, intend to do this! It is so simply magical!

http://www.therainbowscribe.com/hilarionjune2017.htm

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Spiritual Weekly Communion with a Virtual Connection

Happily sharing an article about our weekly communion @ Spiritual Fizz!

Thank you, dear Russ, for the exposure. It is greatly appreciated 🙂 ❀

http://spiritualfizz.com/2017/05/13/spiritual-weekly-communion-virtual-connection/

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The Guest House

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~

(The Essential Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks)

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These Images — Wang Ping

Thus like swans,
wings wide open in the air,
when spring splashes lakes onto shores,
where in the woods,
wild ducks wheeling in pairs
for a love nest, and snakes
after spring’s first thunders,
slide forth from winter’s fields,
when raccoons lose their minds
mating among maple leaves
in Quaker cemeteries,
and golden smoke rises
above cypress trees, their needles
aquiver with too much pollen,
when songs flow from their lips
and bare feet welcome the embrace of sand,
where, under the tent of a white sheet,
eyes fall on the sea-drenched forehead
of the beloved,
when the church bells rings,
children dash through the lunchroom,
their jackets of tropical fruit and birds of paradise
against the concrete ground of P.S. 19,
where words are at stake,
and thoughts are immobilized,
where life shouts with joy
and being is beauty and love
no longer clings,
where senses quicken their steps
to enter hearts of things…

So simple, these images,
their recognition
is in our nature,
yet too often neglected,
our eyes already elsewhere.
It is beyond the gods
why we hold onto our sorrows
so long, and so stubborn.

~ Wang Ping ~

(of flesh & spirit: poems)

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Planting new seeds

Dear Ones,

It is this time of the year again. Spring is almost here!

As we come to the end of the winter season in the northern hemisphere, we approach the Equinox, the first day of Spring. A time of rebirth in the form of seeding new intentions, dreams or visions.

In the southern hemisphere, the full expression of these seeds has come to a harvest, and begins to wane, as we draw our energy inwards, for the season of inner growth and reflection.

Spring is a time of rejuvenation, of coming out of our cave, and of leaving behind what may have been plaguing us during those long and dark winter months.

Continuing on with the theme of cultivating our garden, we expand upon the space we created last week. Through the forgiveness of anything in our hearts which stands as an obstacle and limitation to our forward movement, this week we aim to plant our seeds.

What will we want to plant inwardly as we usher into a new season?

And what kind of fruits or flowers do we hope to see blooming in the coming months?

Gardeners of the Heart, it is up to us to decide!

 


Gilles Asselin is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.

Topic: Planting new seeds

Time: Mar 16, 2017 3:00 PM Eastern Time (US and Canada)

Join from PC, Mac, Linux, iOS or Android:

https://zoom.us/j/381210756

Or iPhone one-tap (US Toll):  +14086380968,381210756# or +16465588656,381210756#

Or Telephone:

Dial: +1 408 638 0968 (US Toll) or +1 646 558 8656 (US Toll)

Meeting ID: 381 210 756

International numbers available: https://zoom.us/zoomconference?m=dx8oYuxPaDD1jN4pVhJZha61gwDvyawC

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Hommage Ă  Mamie Denise, et un message rempli d’espoir

Quelques jours aprĂšs avoir rendu un hommage en anglais Ă  la personne qui fut ma mĂšre—et qui le reste, bien sĂ»r—je souhaitais Ă©crire en français pour rendre un hommage Ă  « Mamie Denise » comme nous l’appelons affectueusement ; ceci servira Ă©galement d’éloge funĂšbre personnelle puisque je n’ai pas eu l’occasion de participer pleinement Ă  celle qui a Ă©tĂ© lue lors de son enterrement.

Notre mĂšre a vĂ©cu une vie bien longue, et bien remplie, au-delĂ  de ses occupations professionnelles, jusqu’à il y a environ deux ans lorsque la vieillesse et la situation dans laquelle elle se trouvait l’on obligĂ©es Ă  rentrer dans une maison de retraite.

J’ai eu le bonheur de rendre visite Ă  ma mĂšre dans cette maison « cinq fois de plus, » soulignerais-je, fin novembre, dĂ©but dĂ©cembre 2016, alors que l’une de nos cousines dans l’est de la France approchait de ses derniers moments. L’Univers rĂ©unit parfois les ĂȘtres de façon quelque peu fortuite, pour ne pas dire miraculeuse. Nous avons Ă©changĂ© peu de mots lors de ces visites, du fait de l’état fĂ©brile de ma mĂšre, mais nous avons Ă©changĂ© de l’énergie, de l’Amour, main dans la main, cƓur Ă  cƓur. Et je suis immensĂ©ment reconnaissant pour ces prĂ©cieux instants.

Que retenir de la vie de « Mamie Denise », si ce n’est dans un premier temps une enfance difficile dans un creuset familial pas toujours « nourrissant », Ă  l’aube de la deuxiĂšme guerre mondiale. Son pĂšre Ă©tait prisonnier de guerre en Allemagne et ce qu’elle a alors vĂ©cu avec sa mĂšre semble avoir Ă©tĂ© difficile, d’aprĂšs ce qu’elle m’en a dit. Elle aimait beaucoup partager sur sa famille, sur son vĂ©cu.

Le cƓur de ma mĂšre battait pour la rĂ©gion d’origine de ses parents, la Haute-Loire, qu’ils ont quittĂ©e Ă  contrecƓur en 1920, du fait qu’il n’y avait pas suffisamment de travail Ă  la ferme d’AzaniĂšres pour nourrir toute la famille.

Ma mĂšre est donc nĂ©e et a grandi en rĂ©gion parisienne, Ă  Pantin tout d’abord, puis Ă  Clamart ou elle a passĂ© 75 ans de sa vie. On s’extrait difficilement d’un endroit oĂč l’on passe tant de temps, et ma mĂšre y retournait frĂ©quemment dans ses propres voyages imaginaires.

Souvent, lors des visites de mon frĂšre Ă  la maison de retraite, elle me disait qu’ils allaient « partir Ă  Clamart », ne rĂ©alisant pas que la maison ou nous avons grandi avait Ă©tĂ© rasĂ©e fin 2011.

La boucle clamartoise a nĂ©anmoins Ă©tĂ© bouclĂ©e le 27 janvier dernier lorsque nous l’avons suivie pour son dernier voyage, au cimetiĂšre de Clamart. Elle y repose avec son Ă©poux, Pierre, et ses parents, LĂ©on et Rosa.

Que retenir de ces belles annĂ©es passĂ©es Ă  Clamart auprĂšs de mes parents ; une jeunesse insouciante, un dĂ©sir d’évasion qui Ă©tait quelque peu corroborĂ© par le plaisir que ma mĂšre prenait Ă  recevoir mes amis Ă©trangers, notamment ceux originaires d’Afrique ou j’ai vĂ©cu dans les annĂ©es 80.

Il est bon, parfois, de s’éloigner momentanĂ©ment de son antre quand on sait que l’on retrouvera toujours avec plaisir et chaleur les siens et les siennes. Tant de « grandissement » se produit dans ces moments particuliers.

Ce « grandissement » personnel dont la vie de ma mĂšre fait Ă©cho a pris une tournure particuliĂšre lors de mon rĂ©cent voyage en France. J’ai senti comme un ‘dĂ©clic’ se produire alors que mon frĂšre nous emmenait en voiture vers la chambre funĂ©raire, tĂŽt ce vendredi matin, afin que nous puissions rendre un dernier hommage Ă  notre mĂšre.

Je veux parler d’un dĂ©clic Ă©nergĂ©tique, peut-ĂȘtre une porte qui se ferme, comme mon amie Lillis me l’a expliquĂ©, alors que la relation mĂšre-enfant se transforme, du fait de l’interruption du contact physique, et donc d’une connexion spirituelle qui prend son essor.

Pour finir, je voudrais faire part des mots que j’ai Ă©changĂ© hier matin avec une amie alors qu’elle partageait ses impressions suite Ă  la disparition de sa propre mĂšre il y a trois mois. Elle parlait des Ă©motions de colĂšre et de peur qui peuvent se manifester, pour ne pas dire s’incruster, suite Ă  un Ă©vĂšnement douloureux ; et qui ont affligĂ© ses proches suite Ă  cette disparation.

Ces mots paraitront peut-ĂȘtre un brin curieux pour clore un Ă©loge funĂšbre, mais ils sont remplis d’espoir et porteurs d’Amour. Beaucoup de personnes ne rĂ©alisent pas ce qui leur arrive et la raison pour laquelle ils agissent, ou rĂ©agissent, parfois, en tant qu’otages inconscients de cette peur ou de cette colĂšre. Si ces quelques mots pouvaient, je ne sais oĂč, chez je ne sais qui, crĂ©er un moment de rĂ©alisation, ils auraient atteint un but tout Ă  fait remarquable. Au plus profond de moi-mĂȘme, je suis convaincu que la prise de conscience est le plus beau cadeau que l’on puisse recevoir—quel que soit l’élĂ©ment ou la personne qui la provoque ; une amie, un inconnu, une Ă©mission Ă©coutĂ©e par hasard, ou plus simplement, l’Univers.

« Maitre Djwhal parle de la colĂšre et de la peur comme Ă©tant des symptĂŽmes rĂ©sultant du chagrin et de la peine, Ă  un niveau profond ; le chagrin Ă©tant Ă  la base de tout. Il prĂ©cise, quand le chagrin commence Ă  remonter Ă  la surface, il provoque beaucoup de douleur ; une douleur que peu de gens souhaitent apprĂ©hender. Il y a alors deux directions dans lesquelles le chagrin peut se perpĂ©tuer
la colĂšre et la peur. »

 

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A profoundest transformation and a Mother’s love for humanity

I recently returned from a trip to my homeland. It was a special one this time, aimed at saying goodbye to the Mother who gave me birth, and who infused in me, along with my father, a desire for living life at its utmost.

My mother had a long, beautiful life, and would have turned 89 this month. Yet, it was a very difficult, harsh life, ravaged to some extent by the horrors of the second world war; not so much the horrors of an occupied Parisian suburb, but rather the ‘ravages’ she encountered at home with her own mother.

It is not easy to see the beauty of my Mother’s life behind the veil; the veil imposed by her own mother, knowing she loved us the way her mother did.

I am glad I am able to see her life’s beauty and am grateful to have been able to visit her an extra five times in November, due to the fact that, unexpectedly, a cousin of ours passed away in eastern France. It was a special time, just the two of us, with very few words uttered, holding hands. An exchange of Love & Light.

This ability to see, beyond the veils or the “sacred wounds” our caretakers carved upon our psyche in our childhoods, is something I have been questioning for a long time; at least consciously for the past 11 years.

Why is it that some people see, and why is it that some don’t?

And why is it that some people do the work their soul is calling them to do, and some don’t’?

The question remains, deepens even, beautiful as it is, as my life transformed itself in the crucible of my Mother’s eternal love.

I experienced something out of the ordinary during this trip. Perhaps a lifting of a veil, perhaps a seeing of some sort in an unexplored area of my inner self.

It happened, I felt it happening, and yet, obviously, couldn’t put my finger on it. It happened early morning on January 27th on the way to the funeral chamber where my brother, his companion and I would be able to pay our last respects to my Mother.
I would call it a shift and, yet, perhaps the best way to describe it is to use the French word “dĂ©clic.” Something that was stuck, or possibly stored away for some time, starts moving. There is sudden motion, there is life.

This shift got confirmed as I was texting with my wife, who was 9 hours behind us. We discussed the matter of what was going to happen that morning. Then a pause; then, a few minutes later, we addressed an issue related to our son’s school, texting to each other at the very same time: 7:44 am. Such a beautiful, divine confirmation; or so it felt.

A friend of mine, Lillis, said this energy shift was due to the doors closing from the energy of me and my Mother. And yet something seemed to have opened up.

Synchronicities started to abound; all the more incredible. Connecting with a sister last Friday (February 3rd) over a trip she had taken to Dublin, Ohio, in the early 80s. I traveled to Dublin, Ohio, in June of 2014 for a France-related training and, mystically, on my way back home that day, I was flying through the other Dublin, Ireland.

As I waited for my flight to Dublin that morning, I was able to share some thoughts with my friend Altair, trying to put into words what had happened in the past few days.

I wrote to him that “for a reason that I do not fully understand, my mother’s death seems to have created a ‘liberation of some sort’ in me; or the removal of a veil, if you will.”

It felt as if the concept of surrender had gone out of my life; I no longer knew what it was and perhaps, as Altair suggested, I had surrendered into surrender.

I also wrote that “it seems that I have lost, along the way of surrender, all my expectations. Only ‘nothing’, or possibly ‘what is,’ remains; pure and simple, like a tear, a drop of divine water.”

I had tears in my eyes while writing these words; they seem to come from somewhere else.

So it seems that this is the beginning of a new journey, or possibly one undertaken at a deeper inner level.

I do not know—knowing we so seldom do—what will happen, and the only thing I can do is walk forward, offering my Light & Love while honoring the memory of the woman who gave me life and so many other blessings.

Merci Maman. Je t’aime.

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