….and if we are indeed, standing on the shore, looking off into the ocean of the cosmos, listening to the song of the Oneverse as it tugs at the core of our being, as it inflames our imaginations and drives the communal mind of our species to do seemingly incomprehensible things, one then wonders how, exactly, are we going to make it happen, this transformation.
would it not be much like any other birth, any other catalyzed reaction, any other step up the evolutionary awareness ladder? Would not the idea, the awareness, the energy start with one mote, one molecule, one individual in the colony of man? Are not stars born from the tiniest of sparks? The biggest explosions come from a single point of ignition.
But how do we know? How should we act? There are no play books, no instruction manuals for this life we call human. But wait. What is a prophet or a visionary or a dreamer or an artist but an apologist for the species’ transformation? Have they not already painted us a map? It is all there if we are willing to listen. What do they tell us, over and over again? That there is a Gatekeeper who holds the way forward open for us, a Mother who guards us in our vulnerable moments, a vessel in which change must initiate and gestate and birth itself, while safely tucked inside.
Every change needs a point where the Oneverse can walk in. A magical vessel that fills and fills until it bursts open to spill out. From this vessel a river flows that feeds the dormant seeds laying hidden in the parched ground of our malaise and discontent. The river gathers us up in a flood and flushes us through the doorway into the next place.
But the Gatekeeper is not without mercy and the Mother of our evolution does not wish us ill. The duty of the Gatekeeper is to create a bubble on the threshold of transformation. Within the bubble all things exist: Creation, the Oneverse, Nothingness, that which was, that which is, that which will be. It is a bubble in which all possibilities exist but in which there is only one possible outcome. We will walk through that door. That choice has been taken from you. Do not be afraid. The Mother would not toss her baby out into the world, all raw and fragile and tender. No. She holds you within the bubble of the Gate, showing you the past and promising you a future. She lets you dream, clinging to your old life while forging you in the fires that will prepare you for the next. Harsh but necessary. In the end, when the bubble bursts and you are spilled out into the mud of a new world, you will be prepared. A few wobbly steps, a moment of disorientation, but then you will be up and running, excited with the newness and entranced by the possibility of adventure.
Birth, of big things or small, of frogs or babies or stars, is a universal commonality.
Blessed be the Mother who has agreed to gestate this turbulent species called Human, that it might be born into a new day and a new place, with a new direction and a new point of view. It is she who will tell you your purpose, kiss you on your cheek and toss you out of the nest.
Leave a comment