By Amaya Gayle
These are such strange times. Everyone feels it, not just those more attuned to their inner landscape. People, regardless of leanings, feel it’s important to be certain about what’s true, who’s good and who’s not, who’s telling the truth and who’s lying through their teeth. The infinite colors of grey have dropped from the spectrum that used to comprise life between total black-out black and ultra-pure white.
There really is no way to tell one from the other, or just how securely your foot and mouth are clamped in your own trap. Basic common sense and human kindness can help, but alas, they seem to be in short supply.
That is quite normal during times of chaos, times that foretell change. Any answer we come up with, regardless of how well thought out, or even how epiphanic and heart-driven it is, by its very nature incorporates our own biases, our own rules of the road. We cannot see other that what we are readied to see and what we see will be framed out of the core of the energetic patterns residing within.
Perhaps in rare instances there might be unbiased perception, but for the overwhelming majority of us, there is no such thing.Reading the headlines offers either an excerpt from a comedy class or a twisted gut in need of someth9ing pink to settle it down, sometimes both at the same time. How can people believe this shit … and that’s coming from the left and the right. Those in the middle, if they still exist, must be tearing their hair out.
We are doing this to ourselves, with our increasing need for answers and solutions, our fascination with blame and shame, and not surprisingly, in my world that is a good thing.
Times of blatant uncertainty tend to up the anxiety and ante. When we aren’t yet ready to look within without running from what we find, we project the pain of our untended wounds onto those we see as those others, those not like us, those who think differently, those who have found contrary paths to buffer the pain of the disturbances in their energetic fields.
You might say that life’s pressure cooker is primed and ready to blow.
As difficult as it is to accept, no one is to blame. We are simply closing in on points of undeniably conspicuous discernability. Many of us are riding that red line, pushing it further into the blast zone.
Honestly, I’m not sure just how much further we can go, how much crazier the world will get, how much more pain and suffering we will feel the need to inflict on each other before we see what we are doing.
Life is taking each of us to the point where we will no longer be able to deny our pain. That’s its gig. Life is the cosmic mirror, and it is always readjusting the angles to set itself up in ways that leave no space to hide.
I’d love to extrapolate it out and imagine a world where we are all left with no choice, no options but to look within, where we can see our precious innate complicity, where we see how this works, what this is, what we are, but I’m not sure it’s going to work that way.
This seems to be an individual thing and that’s kind of funny since we aren’t individuals. Clear seeing seems to be occurring for many people I know. Countless friends are accumulating enough new, love-based data points in their immediate fields to overshadow their old fear driven instinct to do harm, harm to others, harm to themselves.
Many though, are battening down their hatches, are winding themselves up tighter, are so afraid that they dare not do otherwise, not allowing even the possibility of looking within.
Is what’s happening now a cosmic worldwide transformation as so many say? Will it happen in this lifetime? Life doesn’t know lifetimes. It’s eternal. It has no need to conform to its appearances’ timetable. Will the appearance change in the next 10, 50, 200 years? I don’t know. It will change. That’s a certainty. Life is change. Will it change in the way open hearts want? It could. It might not.
I only slightly know my experience, what the awareness as seen through this personal lens perceives. Can any of us actually know more? Some say they do. Perhaps it’s true, but does it really matter?
What seems to matter is what I do with that clarity: if I’ve seen through the ruse and genuinely can see that everyone is doing the best they can, that nothing could be different from what it is; if I am clear enough that I no longer add my judgement, my fear, to the field. As my judgement falls away, when what I add to the whole is not more fear, the fear in the world cannot help but lose its potency. It’s basic math.
How long does it take a pure drop to clarify the ocean? Will one or two or ten thousand do? I guess we’re here to find out.
There is no appropriate bio for Amaya Gayle. She doesn’t exist other than as an expression of Consciousness Itself. Talking about her in biographical terms is a disservice to the truth and to anyone who might be led to believe in such nonsense. None of us exist, not in the way we think. Ideas spring into words. Words flow onto paper and yet no one writes them. They simply appear fully formed. Looking at her you would swear this is a lie. She’s there after all, but honestly, she’s not. Bios normally wax on about accomplishments and beliefs, happenings in time and space. She has never accomplished anything, has no beliefs and like you was never born and will never die. Engage with Amaya at your own risk.
