Soft spots and Divine Will

This might be a much longer ‘post’ than usual, dear Ones, or invitation to our Thursday March 7th communion, as to embody the paradigm shift we recently experienced and discussed last Thursday. It is time to fully embrace the future and what is to come.

A full title shall be:

Observing the functioning of our mind, its soft spots, and connecting with Divine Will.

We can do that, all of us can do it, dear Ones. The reason I am mentioning this so specifically is because it is the very type of work we need to contemplate on the path, leading to a better understanding of the many traps our mind sets, and of the Light which comes from above, and whose divine mission is to trickle down. Providing it is free to do so!

This weekend, I attended the second part of a year-long program entitled, Rites of Passage; rites, or initiations, that help us along the way as we enhance our vibration, move closer to Divine Will and acknowledge Its Plan for humanity.

This Sunday’s Rite was entitled, the Rite of Will Transference; read a transference from Divine Will to personal Will, or a strengthening, and a making more visible, of the connectedness between the two.

We all have experienced some of ‘Divine Will’ in action, in awe at times at Its power and subtlety, acting through the various ‘agents of God’ that surrounds us; I mean our family, friends and possibly others.

I will never forget the benevolent ‘Grace of God’ (as I called It in my most recent blogpost) that made me cancel my trip to Africa last December and that, instead, sent me quite unexpectedly to Washington DC, and more specifically to magical Mount Vernon.

We all have had, in retrospect, some mystical moments when we realized that, perhaps, we are not the (only) ones in charge of leading our lives.

That made me reflect on the instances when Divine Will is not at the helm, or is not heard, primarily because the channel between Divine Will and personal Will is blocked. How does that happen, and what precisely happen?

We all know the culprit: ego mind, and the various ways in which it can mislead or deceive us.

Some of the mind’s tricks are addictive and some take us to what I would call our ‘soft spots’ when we lose contact with Divine Will.

In many ways, these soft spots, once we are stuck in them, function as what I would call “non-synchronicities” generators. We can then see clearly that the Divine Flow is not coming through; that is, most often, in retrospect.

I was thinking of one instance that took place twelve days ago, as we ended our trip to California, and which took me to my ‘most devastating’ soft spot: one I would label ‘time pressure.’ One where my ego has dabbled for a long time.

Once under the influence of this not-so-soft spot, there is little I can do to connect with Divine Will because the engulfment of time pressure is so strong. It takes over most of my being.

In the situation that came to mind, I had to return a rental car while my family waited at the hotel we had just checked-in. Had I waited another five minutes before leaving the hotel, the mini incident that ensued would have not taken place. An inconvenience, a loss of time for my family.

I asked myself repeatedly, ‘How did that happen?’ ‘How is it that I could not connect with Divine Wisdom in that moment?’ ‘What was blocked in that situation?”

I know there is a karmic, family imprint at work there because my mother was extremely time conscious, and she stamped us all with her ‘time pressure’ hammer.

Yet, once aware of the imprinted phenomenon, there is always a way to get out of it. Awareness is not only the first step; it is the most important one.

Hence the goal of this post, which is to make us reflect on the ‘soft spots’ we nurture; as well as their origins.

After deeply reflecting on this 10-days old mini incident, and not giving up on my question (to the Divine, that is), another situation presented itself this morning.

I had a meeting coming up (the Rite of Passage session) within an hour and breakfast was not even consumed. Was it another opportunity for ‘time pressure’ to rear its head? In fact, it is ‘irritation’ (at the perception of being controlled) that showed up. One that, very interestingly, I can handle more easily than ‘time pressure.’ My ego mind started to put up a fire, but I didn’t give it any ammunition, well aware of the possible consequences; and the conversation that ensued was pleasant AND I was very much ‘on time’ for the Rite of Passage session.

Which only shows that ‘time pressure,’ or whatever soft spot we want to consider, are traps, or illusions set by the mind. That I know, for a long time, and yet ‘time pressure’ won ten days ago in California. Once we uncover their schemes, do not buy into them, and maintain our ‘upper connection,’ they lose their deceptive nature, and life can take place, unspoiled, with its many synchronicities.

Again, my purpose today is to make us reflect on what makes us tick, what makes us move, and what makes us react. Understanding oneself (and how/why we function a certain way) is by far, as mentioned earlier, the most important factor in this game we call life.

Once the channel is clear, once we connect freely and openly with what divinely wants to come into our life, self-realization can happen. It is the reason why this connection between Divine Will and personal Will is so crucial.

Hence the importance of keeping an eye (or two) on the functioning of our minds and opening up to what wants to manifest, from above.

Let’s do this with more concentration and determination this week, dear Ones, and see where we are by the time our communion ‘flourishes’ on Thursday.

I love you All.

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Clearing up to a new adventure

We are often making turns on the path, some of them more consciously than others. This post is not especially about a turn, or a new direction, but rather a sensation—let’s call it a knowing—that came up after observing my mind for a few days.

The situation was ideal. I was visiting several California amusement parks last week with my family, an activity that doesn’t require much consciousness; meaning it opened up space and time for observing and questioning my emotions.

Over the course of four days, in two related parks, I went through a range of mild emotions, both positive and negative. The crowds, still important at this time of the year, and the weather, more rainy than expected, played their role as stimuli. And being drenched on our very first park experience provided the framework for a ‘different adventure.’

On the third day, I remember my feeling mesmerized at the amount of temptations available at this locale: the merchandise, the fun, the artificial way of life that feels almost more real than reality. That’s what providers want us to feel: a dream more real than our own lives, one to which we can always come back … once addicted.

I also remember being appalled at the price of those temptations, big and small. Paying $8.49 for a single slice of pizza didn’t feel quite real and would certainly kick me out of the dream. Why such exorbitant prices, knowing we had to pay a hefty price just to ‘get into the dream?’ Perhaps people lost in the fantasy no longer feel the pain—and the surreal nature—of what they are paying for?

On the fourth day, we were able to get to the second park earlier than I thought. The early morning crowds were thinner and I just thought “the early bird gets the worm” after all. That was all good, that was an emotion that lasted for a while; that is, until a downpour surprised us at lunch time. My New Orleans salad received a blessing from the Heavens.

Visiting a third park two days later, another emotion took me by surprise, the strongest I ever felt in the whole week. Mid-morning came and our son insisted to have a special drink, a ‘butterbeer,’ fortified that he was in his request (or rather, demand) by the magical powers that it offers to the young wizards! The choice, as often in life, was binary: cold or frozen. He chose frozen, which meant a longer time to finish the beverage, and more time to wait till the next attraction. My wife added a comment as to the inappropriate timing of my giving in to our son’s desire; yet, despite her well-taken point, that comment was carved in the past, and my action was of an unchangeable nature. Anger got to my nose, just as strong French mustard does clear sinuses, and I could feel the full power of emotions rising from the depth of my being. That was an utmost experience, an emotional peak, if you will. I managed it fairly well by isolating myself for a minute or two, and our son wasn’t even finished by the time I got ‘back in line.’

I don’t know exactly where our emotions come from—besides the mental up or down affliction they create; yet it seems there is some sort of a mirroring process, or inner resonance, at work. A stimulus, usually from the external world, hits us and something within us vibrates, at a different frequency, depending on the force of the impact.

How do we lessen the impact of that stimulus upon our inner drum?

By practicing, as much as possible, what I would call “compassionate detachment.” Not ignoring what has happened, yet letting it go as soon as we feel the impact. Not letting it stick, like fresh snow upon the ground of sensitive territory. A practice that requires some training, and in which I immersed myself over the years; with success when I look back seventeen years, a time when my inner cauldron was often boiling.

The second suggestion would be to proactively call our spiritual guides for help. They are always around and willing to foster our growth—in ways we can’t simply imagine. And mastering our emotions is clearly a sign of spiritual development.

In the middle of this mature forest of emotions, there came a clearing, one of a different nature, and one which I didn’t expect. Was my ‘observational mode’ of any use in this occurrence? I couldn’t tell. Life happens, as we experience it, and life often surprises us.

Right in between those amusement experiences, we happened to watch a movie in our hotel room. A movie that has been around for some time—25 years. Its title is Forrest Gump; a movie narrating the life of a young man from the south of the US, quite successful despite the many challenges and sorrows he faced.

While there are many delightful episodes in this film, the theme that struck me again, perhaps with deeper significance this time (we never watched that movie with our son), is that of Destiny.

Injured in battle, and unable to move, Lieutenant Dan would have perished in the humid jungle of Vietnam, if not for Forrest’s courage to rescue him and bring to safety most of his platoon. Yet, despite having lost both legs, it wasn’t Lieutenant Dan’s destiny to perish under the bombshell that day; rather it was to become the bright captain of a shrimp fishing boat, and to meet a sweet person named Susan. Who would have thought such future possible when Lieutenant Dan, overcome with grief over the loss of his limbs, reprimanded Forrest for having saved his life?

At some point, Forrest started attending church regularly, in the hope that his shrimp business, dedicated to one of his comrades (Bubba) who had died in the field, would take off. He then reflected on the notion of Destiny, attributing It to “the hand of God” and to “floating in the universe at the right time.”

Clearly a bit of both was at work when a violent storm destroyed all shrimp fishing boats, except Jenny, Forrest’s boat. The road was suddenly open; wide open.

This was very much a clearing, and one of an unexpected nature—”hand of God” said Forrest?

I mention this notion of Destiny because I had to explain to our 8-years old son what Destiny is about. What is it that he wants to do with his life, taking it in the direction where it is meant to go? I explained him as best as I could and he was, for once, quiet; very quiet. Is the notion starting to sink in? Will he be looking for signs along his favorite video games? Who knows how those signs will show up, and how soon? They so rarely give us a warning!

Getting back to the title of this post, it seems something has cleared up in my life, although it is a bit early to say. Perhaps what has cleared up is what I call non-clarity, and perhaps some good old clouds have been lifted “by the Grace of God.”

Two signs, small yet significant, make me think in that direction.

On the way back home, I came across a channeled post about Mission and Purpose, not realizing it was two years old. It felt as fresh and as appropriate as it could be, gently reinforcing the clearing that I started to feel.

And two days after watching Forrest Gump, Destiny knocked at our tummies and we ended up having dinner at a restaurant themed after the movie, Bubba Gump. And yes, I had shrimp, a New Orleans shrimp dish, and the brown sauce was delicious.

So who knows what will want to manifest, in the form of a clearing or otherwise, when you or we start questioning the spiritual package I would call, Destiny, Mission and Purpose?

And who could tell how different the adventure we call life will be?

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Maintaining our freedom of being

Dear Ones,

Many of you know that political activist, moral and spiritual ‘awakener’ (*1) Marianne Williamson is running for the 2020 US presidential election. She announced her candidacy last week and started campaigning right away. I was reading her Story yesterday and would encourage you to do the same if you’d like to learn about her unusual career and beautiful life aspirations.



I applaud the courage of such a brilliant person, yet would question, with my limited knowledge of her situation (*2), her decision to run within the ‘boundaries’ of a political party—the Democratic party.

Running within such an established institution is meant, in the end, to limit her ‘freedom of being,’ especially if she goes past the Democratic primary and moves on to take part in the final stretch in the fall of 2020.

Yet, her decision to run within the ‘established’ made me reflect on the many ways in which we indeed restrict our ‘freedom of being’ by belonging, consciously or not so consciously, to various organizations (or group of people). And sometimes, sticking with them, despite adverse winds.

This ‘restriction of our beingness’ (often, for the sake of the collective) is both understandable and inevitable as rules, regulations, directives, emotional attachments and so on are meant to make us conform to the mainstream that each of these organizations sets as a prerequisite to belonging.

For instance, I was reflecting on the school our son attends, with its many such rules, regulations and decisions, and the limited voice we, parents, have in setting them up.

First and foremost, it is a question of what is it that we are willing to accept (again, for the sake of the collective, or for a specific outcome) and at what price. It is also a question of boundaries and where we set the limits. When is it that too much conformity becomes a burden, an unbearable burden?

So, for this week, my question is,

How do we maintain our freedom of being in the face of the many ‘restrictions’ we may encounter in the course of our lives?

Starting, of course, with the families we grow up with, the countries in which we reside and their so-called ‘systems.’

This is, above all, not a call to let go of these ‘affiliations;’ it is a call to be aware, and a call to live with that awareness in front of us.

*1: The last few words of Marianne’s story and ‘why she is running’:

“We need to address the deep emotional and psychological dynamics within the average citizen that have led to the erosion of our political system. In order to have a moral and spiritual awakening in America, we need a leader who is a moral and spiritual awakener. I believe I am that person.”

*2: Marianne Williamson ran for Congress in 2014, as an independent, and lost. Perhaps this lesson influenced her decision to now run under the Democratic party banner.


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A most meaningful commemoration

I returned to Mount Vernon today, where the estate of George Washington, first president of the United States between 1789 and 1797, is located. I visited for the first time last Friday and wanted to get another feel for it, knowing I had not spent much time in the Education Center.

And so I hopped onto the Yellow Line metro till its terminus and connected with the number 101 bus, Fort Hunt line.

I (re)watched the short intro movie, which is followed by a much longer film highlighting some of George Washington’s defining moments: his first meeting with Ms. Custis, the widow who would become his wife, a skirmish during the French Indian war, and his infamous crossing of the Delaware river on Christmas day 1776. His conviction, bravery and military genius shone through the few words he uttered to his ‘worn out’ generals during this cold winter of 1776. “This is our country. It belongs to us.”


I then set out to explore the wharf area, along the Potomac river, accompanied that I was by a brilliant pink-surrounded sun and some two-legged companions: a flock of geese that was resting and bathing in the sun, just as I was.

The hour of 12 noon was approaching and I decided to go up a few steps to the vault where George and Martha’s bodies lay since 1831. There is a wreath laying ceremony every day and I didn’t want to miss it. Such a profound way to pay homage to people who drastically changed and shaped the face of an emerging nation.

I exchanged a few words with Tricia, the employee of the Ladies of Mount Vernon Association, who, I assumed, was there to conduct the wreath laying ceremony.

I inquired about Martha’s status as a widow, her children from her marriage with Mr. Custis (she was 17 when she married him), and the cause of the passing of both George and Martha. While the definite cause of Martha’s 1802 death couldn’t be identified, three were explored; typhus was one of them.

As to George, he died of epiglottitis. Never heard of it? Don’t worry, I hadn’t either until 11:55 this morning. According to the Mayo Clinic, “Epiglottitis is a potentially life-threatening condition that occurs when the epiglottis — a small cartilage “lid” that covers our windpipe — swells, blocking the flow of air into our lungs.”

And that’s what happened to George Washington on a fateful day in December of 1799. He died on the 14th of that month and missed the 19th century by a mere 18 days. He had four doctors at his bedside, one of them who had performed an opening of the trachea, which could potentially save George. Unfortunately, his patient had died and no one thought it was worth taking the risk with the first president of this new country.


I was the only one attending the wreath laying ritual. At 12 noon, to my amazement, Tricia asked me to lay the wreath. The ceremony also entailed the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, and the reading of a prayer written by Washington himself.

Tricia and I recited the pledge while facing the flag, she then opened the gate to the vault and let me put the wreath right between the two tombs, respecting symmetry and balance as much as I could. I then came out and recited aloud the following words.

“I now make it my earnest prayer that God would have the United States in his holy protection, that he would incline the hearts of the Citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to Government, to entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another, for their fellow citizens of the United States at large, and particularly for their brethren who have served in the Field and, finally, that he would most graciously be pleased to dispose us all, to do Justice, to love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that Charity, humility and pacific temper of mind, which were the Characteristics of the Devine Author of our blessed Religion, and without an humble imitation of whose example in these things, we can never hope to be a happy Nation.” Amen

This prayer was addressed by George Washington to the governors of the new nation on July 8, 1783. He was still the commander in chief of the continental army at the time and his headquarters was based in Newburgh, New York.


I also took the opportunity to take a picture of the marble plaque above the two tombs. I could not do that the Friday prior, blocked that the view was by the gate of the vault.

The plaque covers a citation from the apostle John.

John 11:25-26

25 “I am the resurrection and the life,” said the Lord. “He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. 26 And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.”

These may seem like no more than meaningful and appropriate words blessing the realm where George and Martha lay for eternity. Yet, to me, they take on a more special meaning, knowing January 17th is around the corner. The image of spiritual Death has been ringing in lately, through the Tarot and other concrete signs, and January 17th marks the day when Yeshua raised my father Lazarus from the dead.


How more meaningful can this time be? And how more synchronistic this visit to George Washington’s sacred land could possibly be?

To make matters even more significant in my personal history, January 15th, 2019—which is today—marks the very beginning of my 30th continuous year living on the soil of the United States.

I could not wish for a more beautiful gift to commemorate both the life of an American history craftsman and the anniversary of my own commitment and dedication to this land.

Thank you!

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For Light by John O’Donohue

A beautiful poem by John O’Donohue

For Light

Light cannot see inside things.
That is what the dark is for:
Minding the interior,
Nurturing the draw of growth
Through places where death
In its own way turns into life.

In the glare of neon times,
Let our eyes not be worn
By surfaces that shine
With hunger made attractive.

That our thoughts may be true light,
Finding their way into words
Which have the weight of shadow
To hold the layers of truth.

That we never place our trust
In minds claimed by empty light,
Where one-sided certainties
Are driven by false desire.

When we look into the heart,
May our eyes have the kindness
And reverence of candlelight.

That the searching of our minds
Be equal to the oblique
Crevices and corners where
The mystery continues to dwell,
Glimmering in fugitive light.

When we are confined inside
The dark house of suffering
That moonlight might find a window.

When we become false and lost
That the severe noon-light
Would cast our shadow clear.

When we love, that dawn-light
Would lighten our feet
Upon the waters.

As we grow old, that twilight
Would illuminate treasure
In the fields of memory.

And when we come to search for God,
Let us first be robed in night,
Put on the mind of morning
To feel the rush of light
Spread slowly inside
The color and stillness
Of a found word.

~ John O’Donohue ~

(To Bless the Space Between Us)

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Do we need to exit the old to penetrate the new?

Do we need to exit the old to penetrate the new?

I was doing a meditation this evening with a tarot card that epitomizes a sense of completion: the World.

It is the last of the twenty-two major Arcana cards, yet, at the same time, it marks the beginning of a new cycle; a renewal if you will, and possibly the turning of the wheel of life.

The guided meditation asked to reflect on our achievements, our life journey thus far, something we would gently do at the end of a calendar year.

And it also required to look at the future, what our interests are, what projects we have in mind, and what we want to build, in various areas.

And thus the question above came, which is not really a question.

Simply because we are always both the old and the new, always searching for something we haven’t found in the old, unfinished “I”, a ‘something’ that, very fortunately, propels us forward;

Consciously or not so consciously; it doesn’t really matter.

What matters is that the seed of life is growing within each of us.

So let’s ponder this non-question at a time when our World might be totally transformed, completely turned around, and utterly reconstructed.

And let’s imagine for a second how we’re going to both penetrate and embrace the new.

Because the new will, very soon, be upon us.


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Topic: Do we need to exit the old to penetrate the new?

Time: Dec 27, 2018 3:00 PM Eastern Time (US and Canada)

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In the craziness of it all

In the craziness of it all

This is how I feel, dear Ones. The craziness has engulfed us all, and who knows what it will give birth to.

This is still a mystery to me.

Did I say fortunately?

The refreshing symbol that came to me this morning, as I was reflecting on this craziness, is the Star card of the tarot. A beautiful symbol of balance and equanimity, with one jar of water in her right hand, and one in her left hand. When one of her hands is down pouring water over the pond, the other one is up over the land. That’s how grounded, and balanced she is.

May we all be inspired by her sweet balance and delightful groundedness ♥ ♥

Gilles Asselin is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.

Topic: In the craziness of it all

Time: Nov 15, 2018 3:00 PM Eastern Time (US and Canada)


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