Tag: love

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Precious Hearts

I’d like to share something personal to me. That sounds kind of funny to me since these posts are all personal to me.

What I mean is that I recently wrote a poem as a way of ‘feeling my feelings’, which is a profoundly personal experience. In my earlier life I would not permit myself to go very deeply into this adventure, but I now see the wisdom of it.

Here is the poem that came through me.

precious hearts

i want to know

what is love

made of

i wonder

who can tell me

can you

is it possible

that it can be said

with words

or

is it only possible to be felt

with the heart

i wonder

who do I have to be

to understand

how one comes

to feel loved

we are not always

kind to each other

we bend

in the wrong places

and snap

and sometimes

our dreams shatter

into broken pieces

and our hopes

fall by the wayside

left strewn

on deserted roads

when these things happen

how are we to know

we are loved

i want to tell you

what I have found

i have found one

who answers

my questions

a divine one

a collector

of redemptions

a reassembler

of scattered things

one who makes them

whole

a channel

who restores vision

and polishes the mirrors

we use

to see ourselves

a truth teller

who hears

all that we have not

given voice to

i have found

a divine one who listens

to our stories

but

does not believe them

for the divine one knows

they are just

stories

perhaps

the truth is

the divine one

found me

and felt my wounded

heart

and

sang a new song

into me

i believe

the divine one

can do the same

for you

if

you open your precious heart

and

ask to be filled

with love

I hope you find something of value in this and that if you are suffering in any way, that you open your precious heart, so the divine one can sing a new song into you.

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Suspending Judgement

I’d like to ask you three questions.

Here are two simple requests before I do, which are really the same thing stated two different ways:

1. Please don’t THINK about your responses and

2. Be SPONTANEOUS.

When was the last time you felt judged?

For some, this might have happened a minute ago, for others it might be longer. For some unfortunate folks, their response might be, “it happens all the time!”

Okay, question two.

When was the last time you judged someone?

We’d probably prefer not to answer, or we might be tempted to give ourselves some latitude with our answer. This type of judgement can happen so quickly we’re not even aware we’ve done it.

And lastly, question three.

When was the last time you judged yourself for something?

This might be the most difficult to answer. It can be challenging to give ourselves a pass and not find fault with our actions. In addition, we’re pretty good at repeating patterns that have been taught to us, where judgements have been placed upon us so often that it’s no longer necessary for someone else to initiate them, since we now do it to ourselves. Regrettable, self-judgements can become one of our automatic responses in life.

I’m curious. Which of these three questions was the easiest to answer?

Question one often permits us to blame folks outside of ourselves, question two offers us an awareness of our role in the judgement process of finding fault with others and question three focuses on self-criticism.

I wonder how often our patterns run on autopilot. I also wonder what amount of time we accept others judgements versus create judgements about others. Perhaps they are part of a circle of judgement where they run together and become almost unrecognizable to us.

When I get wrapped up in this process, I find it difficult to stand back, even while knowing I need to observe it all from a distance. On my good days I stand far enough away to see that all forms of judgement hurt everyone involved, both the sender and receiver.

So, I ask myself three new questions, why do we do it, who does it serve and how does it prosper anyone?

My answers to these questions seem simple enough to me…we do it because we allow it to happen, it serves no one and it prospers no one.

The truth hits me hard, I judge as a way of placing myself above others, as if I am special and others are not, as if they are less somehow than me, therefore subject to judgement. It’s a terrible feeling and I want to make changes, but how?

I believe for me that it starts with a clear view about who we all are. We are co-journeyer’s, all from the same heaven, all returning to the same heaven. But while we are here, we’re having different experiences and making different choices, some more challenging than others.

What if I recognized that everyone deserves consideration, no matter what? What if I realized that I know virtually nothing about someone else’s inner life and therefore their outer actions? What if I could give them (and myself) the benefit of the doubt that they are doing the best they can at the moment, whether I can understand that or not?

Ultimately, these decisions will impact me and also everyone I come into contact with. If a goal of mine is to experience a joy-filled life I’m sure that suspending any judgements will assist me greatly.

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Why Did You Come Here

Why did you come here is a deep question, potentially prompting many more questions in its wake.

At first glance, it implies that there is a reason, or perhaps multiple reasons, but does not suggest that you consciously know what they are.

So, I’m wondering, do you think your being here is random OR part of some grand design OR through a choice you made OR because some part of the divine wanted you here?

I believe our answer(s) go a long way toward how we experience our lives while we’re here.

If you think your being here is just a random act, you may be likely to view the rest of the world in the same manner. This might mean you feel a complete lack of control over anything in your life, because after all there are no guiding principles at work.

You may believe that there is a profound grand design to the entire world and that you are playing a part in it. Your part may be small at times, moderate or incredibly important, at least to you and those surrounding you.

On the other hand, it may feel to you as though you made the choice to come here to earth for the awesome adventure it can be and that somehow some part of you was able to consciously select the time and place for your current existence on earth.

And finally, of the options I listed, which are simply not complete, you may believe that the divine (god, by whatever name you use), decided that the world needed you here and that you have a purpose or many purposes.

I’m curious, what do you believe about why you are here?

What do you hope or plan to accomplish? Are there specific things or experiences you want from this earth adventure?

It’s a lot to ponder and you may have already done some thinking about it. What conclusions have you drawn and how have your answers shaped your life here?

I also wonder, if you’ve decided a few things you want to achieve or experience, do you have the skills, money, and time to accomplish them? Do you think you would have come here without them or the promise of them?

Okay, enough questions for now.

I’d like to share some thoughts with you, ideas that have expanded my views about this life. Ideas that have come ‘from the inside out’, meaning that I was previously unaware of them, and they did not arrive by intellectual means, but rather from spiritual insight.

I share them with you, as considerations, not expectations. One of my firmest beliefs is that we each choose our own path through life. We share what we think and believe but leave it up to each other to decide what to accept and embrace.

When I dive deep into my spirit there are always answers to my questions. I’m positive the same can be true for you, should you decide to go inward.

What has come to me is that I am here to remember my truest nature, that I am love. Deep joy is revealed when I am in alignment with and centered in love. I am here to share the awareness that we are all made of the same love, that we came from it and return to it. I am here to assist any others who choose to be a part of this revelation. This is in fact the reason I write books and posts, to broaden possible views and open windows into a more loving world.

I am here to encourage others to share their love in their own unique, special, magical ways because that is what makes for a beautiful world.

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Sadness to the Source of Love

This morning I gave myself permission to feel disappointed. I didn’t fight it or try to tell myself I shouldn’t feel this way.

I am human and I want to feel loved. Part of this, for me, is that when I give love out, I hope for it in return.

I don’t give love with an expectation or at least I try not to. I don’t want there to be any strings attached. I try to let love overflow through me, as naturally I am able.

But once it is given out, I recognize there is some part of me that waits to see if any of it will come back to me and I admit, this part of me is sad when it doesn’t.

Do you ever feel this way?

The permission I give myself allows me to lean into the sadness, recognizing I cannot outrun it. By leaning in I hope to discover something, perhaps something worthwhile enough that I can keep it with me for the rest of my life.

I sense there is value beyond the sadness, a hidden treasure for me to find which is even more powerful than the love I’d hoped would be returned.

Even with this open permission it’s hard to see through my disappointment, as if it shrouds everything in a dense mist.

I ask to see through the mist and some of it clears away, but not enough.

I wonder, what else can I do?

A question forms…what are my intentions? Once I’ve accepted and embraced my sadness over the love I did not receive, what am I hoping to experience?

A mysterious answer comes to me in the form of two questions. They echo over and over. Do you feel emptied by this act of overflowing love? And do you feel a need to be refilled?

My quick response is ‘yes’ to both.

I sit back and realize; I have attached strings. Thick, strong, tight strings.

A dawning happens. My disappointment and sadness are present to help guide me to seeing more clearly this inescapable truth about myself.

I am looking outside of myself for love.

I know that I am not alone in this. I see it everywhere I look. It is as if we were taught that we are not enough and need others love to be whole.

Hold still for a moment and see if there is any truth in this for you.

My admission seems earthshaking to me…’I am not enough, therefore, I must be filled by others’. This of course makes me reliant on others, as much as a baby is reliant on its caregivers for its every need.

The analogy is not lost on me, and I wonder how far I have actually grown.

Another question forms…can I find within me an inexhaustible wellspring of love that will forever feed me?

This idea overtakes me and offers to shatter my dependence on others to be filled from their love. This idea guides me to the truth I seek, that I am a part of the divine; whole, complete, and holy. That I am never emptied of love because the divine lives within me. That I am connected to the divine, the infinitely deep, inexhaustible source of love.

I am incredibly joyful to have given myself permission to feel my feelings and to follow them from disappointment and sadness to discovering the truth that I am a part of the source of love.

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Heaven on Earth (Part Two)

Hopefully you’ve had a chance to read Part One of this post about heaven on earth. If not, please check it out, as it will make this post more meaningful.

This is a continuation of an assignment I gave myself several years ago where the challenge was to create my best version of life here. In essence, to offer myself and the world an opportunity to come together, connecting and sharing our lives, in the hope that we could join forces and find a way to live a life of love.

Here is part two of my Heaven on Earth assignment:

(picking up from where I left off with ‘forgiveness’)

And

We would find that “community” happens naturally when we touch, hug, care, love and forgive each other- and that once we build community there will always be support for all of us- no one would ever have to feel alone or separate, that there would always be someone to help, to comfort, to teach, to encourage our dream, to reward our contribution, to love us.

And

There would be abundant and gentle humor, not filled with anger, envy or harm- a kind of humor that includes, rather than excludes- a kind of humor that joins us in laughter and connection- a kind of humor that increases joy.

And

There would be creativity of all kinds; art, music, writing, building- and everyone would be encouraged to participate, no matter what their skill level was, because creativity is individual and it would grow in a loving environment- where imagination would be given life and seen as an extension of heaven to be appreciated- a place where you could lose yourself in abandon.

And

It would be a place of “potential peace”, sometimes utterly peaceful where everything is at joyful rest; balanced, centered, open, deliriously right and when the world turns to chaos, fear, anger, worry and hurt, there would exist an awareness that peace is still possible, and people would see those in pain and come to their aid, to listen, to hold them, to help them release their fears, to touch their spirit and show their love and in this act, provide balance for both giver and receiver- a kind of sacred harmony.

And

There would be a feeling of freedom within each of us, a certain knowing that we are loved, wholly and completely by the divine- so that there would always be a center of hope within us, a light that cannot be extinguished, a flame that kindles our own love and that connects us to everyone else, our sacred family- so that joy is always present. (the end)

So, sit back for a moment or two and see how this strikes you.

Is it at all realistic? In your opinion, could it ever happen?

I confess that despite how much I wish that things could be this way, I have my doubts. Mostly, this is because each of us has received the precious gift of ‘free will’, the ability to decide for ourselves what beliefs we will hold and choose what actions we will take in the world. It seems too difficult for me to believe that every person would sacrifice their own ability to choose, regardless of how much it might benefit everyone in the process.

From what I’ve seen during my life, there are always those who will take from others. Their need or desire is so great, and their rationalizations are so strong that they feel it is right for them to enhance themselves, even at the expense of others.

If I’m entirely honest, could I say I haven’t done this myself?

This question forces me to consider my own nature, which is not an easy thing to do, once you’ve come up with a beautiful plan for creating heaven on earth.

So, where do I go from here?

As with absolutely every decision in my life, my choices create my experience. I feel it necessary to ask myself, what is the most important experience for ME? I guess this may be the same question you’d need to ask yourself.

When I feel connected to the divine, love is my choice, and it is this I hope to always choose.

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I Am My Dad Today

Has anyone faded away from you?

I know I am not alone. I know there are many others who share the loss I feel because someone they love is fading away from them.

Whether the reason has a name like dementia or Alzheimer’s or is nameless, whole parts of them seem to be missing and it creates a huge hole in their world. And my world too.

To watch this happen, whether bit by bit or all of a sudden and know there is nothing you can do to stop it, brings a cascade of tears.

How are we, the ones left empty and dry by their departure, to sit with this sense of loss?

I can only answer this for myself, but perhaps by sharing a part of me, there might be something valuable for you.

I write.

And through the writing, I allow my heart to bleed words onto the page.

For me, this is a way to vent the grief I feel and once it is outside of me, I can breathe again. I can let go of what I’m holding inside that rests on my chest and smothers me.

By writing, I open to wisdom and peace and let words flow through me into the open air.

Here is the poem I wrote.

I Am My Dad Today

I am my dad today.

At least that’s what my mother thinks.

She calls me by his name, her only connection to this world.

She asks me (him) where she is. I tell her but it doesn’t sink in.

She asks again.

I offer another answer and it falls into the same dark hole with everything else I say.

For a moment, I am not my father, and she asks me who I am.

I brace myself and tell her, I am your son.

A look crosses her face.

I wonder, could it be recognition?

She looks up at me and tells me she has no children.

I guess that makes my sister and me orphans. It’s certainly the way a part of me feels.

I wonder what string attaches her to this earth. I can’t see one. It must be some sort of magic.

It’s time for me to go. I tell her I need to go home to make dinner.

She asks me when she will see me again.

I try to calm myself.

I tell her that my sister, her daughter, will be with her tomorrow and that I’ll see her again the next day.

She turns away.

I walk out of her room wondering who I will be to her then. I cannot possibly know.

The one thing I do know is she will still be my mother.

I try to find some peace in this.

I love you mom.                             (end)

I know that I cannot change what is happening to her or to me, but I need to find a way to live in this new space.

I’m sure that others who have experienced this might be able to shed some light on this for me, but I want to know what god has to tell me.

So, I ask.

My answer comes from a part of god I know and love. It’s a part of god I know as Lia, which stands for Love In Action. She has a distinctly feminine voice and always speaks loving truth to me.

I try to calm myself and let go of the distractions that surround me. I breathe in and out, slowing and softening, so I can hear her voice clearly. When I find some peace, she speaks.

“The solace you seek comes when you release and accept.”

She continues, “Yes, of course, you feel deeply for the living loss of your mom, who is both here and not here. Rest easy and remember this…when she is with you, she is yours AND when she drifts beyond you, she is mine. She slips past the veil between worlds, and she comes to be with me. We sit together with the most precious love surrounding us and we rest in this beautiful state of bliss.”

I take heart and she tells me more.

“I know that all you see is a woman you love who appears to be here with you, but you cannot seem to reach her, and she seems disconnected and far, far away from you. I encourage you to see beyond this surface view. I ask you to accept my blessed assurance that she is with me and is always covered in my love.”

I sit with this revelation and let it fill me with peace. I do still feel the loss of connection with my mom, but something deeply profound has change inside of me and I now know she will always be taken care of, not by me, but by the sweetness of the divine.

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Heading Into The Storm

It seems human nature to try to avoid challenging situations in life, almost like we’re hard-wired that way. Perhaps some internal awareness is operating, attempting to save us from having to deal with things we wished were not a part of our life.

When a difficulty presents itself to you, what are you inclined to do? Do you shy away or pretend it’s not real or solicit for help from others? Or do you face it, recognizing it’s unlikely to be resolved without your direct intervention?

There are of course lots of other strategies, but most seem to come with potentially uncomfortable consequences.

You may be thinking this very moment about something you’re facing and wondering how to proceed. Or you may want to arm yourself with a new approach for when the time comes for your next challenge.

You might already know that I am a writer. Afterall, you are reading something I’ve written right now. But I write more than these posts. I am wholly engaged in a series of books that all go by the title of Little Buddha, and I’ve just completed Book Four. In it there is a story about a young man, Max, who worked in the western part of the America doing an internship with the US Forestry Service. This gave him the opportunity to observe nature and experience her wisdom.

Although he learned many things from the Forestry workers, a Native American by the name of Black Elk, was the one who taught him the ways of nature and filled him with a living wisdom he could carry with him. More than this even, Black Elk taught Max how to observe and understand life for himself. Certainly, a most precious gift.

Perhaps the most valuable teaching of all came one day when Max was observing a herd of buffalo and watched as a massive snowstorm swept toward them. He paid as careful attention as he could, trying to see what each of them would do. In the chaos and blinding snow too much happened for him to notice it all. He wanted to understand better, so he asked Black Elk to share his wisdom.

Black Elk, whose normal approach was to teach through asking questions, decided to explain through the use of his own observations.

This is the story he told Max.

“Many, many years ago there was a Sacred Buffalo. All the other buffalo watched the Sacred Buffalo and followed the Sacred Buffalo everywhere it went, always finding enough to eat. One day, a great storm arrived. Many buffalo turned away from the storm, charging as fast as they could, trying to outrun it. Others watched to see what the Sacred Buffalo would do. The Sacred Buffalo snorted and stamped its great hooves upon the earth. Then, giving one great cry, it glanced at the herd and ran full speed into the storm, disappearing in a wall of white snow. All the other buffalo followed stampeding behind where the Sacred Buffalo had disappeared into the whiteness. A short time later all the buffalo emerged from the storm into a place of stillness and there, grazing peacefully, stood the Sacred Buffalo.”

After some more discussion Max came to understand the value of heading into the storm. He accepted and embraced the story and shifted his life, recognizing the wisdom of the Sacred Buffalo.

In my own life, I’ve seen that trying to avoid or run away from my problems has caused an enormous amount of pain and suffering for me. I’ve allowed all those scary, fearful, difficult decisions that have come to visit me too much reign over me.

The essence of Max and Black Elk’s story enlightens me. Opening myself and allowing courage to come forth, then acting swiftly and boldly, heading directly into the storm of any problem, I now see as the wisest path forward. It shortens the length of the storm and leads me into a place of peace.

In the story Black Elk gives Max a carved wooden buffalo that had been bleached white by the sun as a reminder for his travels through life.

My hope is that I remember the teaching of this story.

Should you wish to read more of the story, you can order a copy of the book, Little Buddha Book Four by Rob H. Geyer, on Amazon in either print or ebook format.

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Choosing Your Memories

If someone asked you to share one of your memories, what would you choose to tell them?

Now imagine the same person asked you to share five or ten or fifty, how many of them would be ‘good’ memories?

If you were given a day or two to conjure up as many memories as you possibly could, how long would it take before you mentioned a ‘bad’ memory?

It fascinates me to consider what my answers to these questions would be. It feels like some sort of subtle test, a way to measure my satisfaction with my life.

I had an occasion recently to investigate this idea up close and personal. As my mom’s power of attorney, it was up to me to sign all the mortgage closing documents on her recent house sale.

I’d promised myself that I would walk through the house before the closing. I wanted a chance to capture the living memories I felt were stored there. I wanted to sweep them up and bring them with me. To store them somewhere safe inside me so that I could hold them, perhaps forever.

As I walked in the front door, the floodgates opened. I can’t recall the very first time I entered the home I grew up in and I that I have been a part of for over sixty years, but so many things stood there in front of me.

The house has so many interesting features and every inch of space is utilized. There is a shelf inset into the wall in the foyer. One of the shelves used to hold a small wooden ship I carved for my father. It had toothpick masts and thread rigging and it took me a long time to build. It’s not there anymore. I have no idea where it went.

I walked into the living room. A place where so many joyous family gatherings were held. A place where a mounted deer head rested above the fireplace. I’d bought it at a garage sale for 25 cents. I thought it was a great deal. I’m willing to bet the seller and his wife thought they’d made a profit. The deer head is gone now. I have no idea where it went.

On into the dining room, where all our family dinners happened. My mom was an excellent cook and I remembered many of the meals we ate there. If I stretched a bit, I could almost taste them. It became my mom’s reluctant bedroom, when it wasn’t safe for her to go up and down the stairs any longer.

Going from room to room brought more and more sweet memories. Words, sounds, feelings. The comings and goings of six decades. All the games, conversations, fears, hopes, and dreams. All the wonderful cookies after school, fresh out of my mom’s oven. The mad crazy ping pong games with my father in the basement, which was too short for our smashing forehands. All the imaginative games with my sister, one of which was pretending to be radio disc jockeys under the dining room table. Don’t ask me why that was our station headquarters. It just was.

Upstairs I walked down the hall to my bedroom. I could still see it as it was when I was a child, the placement of my desk and chair and bed, the Hopi Indian wall hanging, even the closet that had a sort of secret compartment where I stored my prized possessions.

My memory lane is long. The savoring, both touching and sweet.

Perhaps you’ve lived and lost some parts of you, a house, a family member, friend, favored pet or a lessening of your skills and senses. It happens.

What I think matters most to me is what I do with my memories.

Do I let the ‘bad’ ones overtake me, bringing me down and crushing me into silence and grief?

Or do I sift through them until all that are left are the golden, glowing, shiny memories. The ones I wish to keep and hold near to me.

The beautiful thing is, we each get to choose.

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Resurrection of Love

This is a companion to my previous post, One Path to Love.

On Good Friday in 2018 I spent three hours, from noon until 3:00pm, standing, sitting, and walking around the sanctuary of Unity Church in Albany (NY) with the hope that I would be able to connect spiritually and come to a greater understanding of the events surrounding Easter.

I sensed a strength, peace and clarity and felt a ‘knowing’ arrive within me, as if I were present during that time. It felt intimate and real, and I wanted very much to capture each of the stories so that they could be shared with the world. Over the next several weeks I received the words you are about to read. But more than the words, I received the beauty, grace and Yeshiwa’s (Jesus’s) loving heart that was and is the center of each of these stories. The full text appears in my book, Nine, a Holy Week Story of Love.

I do not ask you to believe me. I ask only that you read the words and let them reveal to you what truth they have to share.

This part of the story tells of an encounter between Yeshiwa and Mary Magdalen at Yeshiwa’s burial site following his resurrection.

Chapter Eight: Resurrection (excerpt)

Yeshiwa’s narrative:

I watched from afar as the one I loved most sought after me. She approached the tomb where I had been laid, trembling with fear. Fear that I had been taken and would be lost to her forever.

She touched my burial linens, so lovingly placed upon me by Joseph after I’d been taken from the cross. She traced every impression and quietly sang a sweet song to the memory of me.

One of my angels came and spoke to her asking her, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”

His garments shown with brilliance, and she fell back away from him. Then gathering herself, she said, “I am searching for my master. I wish to honor and anoint him. Please, if you know where he is, please tell me.”

The angel’s heart opened to her, and he said, “Fear not, for all is well. Your master has risen, as he told you he would. Go and seek, so that you may find him.”

She left, her heart quickening and her love revived. And she came and found me, and we held each other’s gaze and she said to me, “Oh beloved, I was so afraid. I remembered your words to us, yet still did not believe you would return. Please forgive my faithlessness. You know my love for you, and you know my great joy at seeing you, you the most precious gift to us all.”

“Mary,” I said, “there is no need for forgiveness. You have wronged no one, least of all, me. Come to me, heart of my heart.”

And she came and we embraced. As we parted, I gently held her face in my hands and looked into her eyes and placed the wholeness of my love deeply into her heart and because it was her greatest desire, she came fully awake.

I spoke to her, “My beloved, it is yours now, to teach as I have taught. To sow ripe seeds among the many. To guide the sheep and the shepherds. To you I have given the keys to the kingdom, that all might inherit everlasting life. Know that my love for you is eternal, remember me in each moment and in each breath.”

She gazed at me, and tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks. “I will do as you ask. I will be mother to all and servant wherever I stand. I will feel you in each moment and remember you in each breath, you my master and beloved.”

“Go now and tell the others. Tell them I will meet them on the road. Remind them of my words and my promises and my love for them.”

She leaned back into me and softly said, “It will be done as you ask. I will tell them, and their hearts will rejoice.”

Then Mary and the others with her departed, running, that they might bring my good news to all who loved me.

—

These words show the love between Yeshiwa and Mary and the bond they shared. While channeling them, I was surrounded by their love and knew beyond any earthly knowing that this love belongs to every one of us. Freely given, offered with no expectations or demands. Ours without exception.

I hope that within these words there is something of value for you, something worth keeping for the rest of your life.

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One Path to Love

On Good Friday in 2018 I spent three hours, from noon until 3:00pm, standing, sitting, and walking around the sanctuary of Unity Church in Albany (NY) with the hope that I would be able to connect spiritually and come to a greater understanding of the events surrounding Easter.

I sensed a strength, peace and clarity and felt a ‘knowing’ arrive within me, as if I were present during that time. It felt intimate and real, and I wanted very much to capture each of the stories so that they could be shared with the world. Over the next several weeks I received the words you are about to read. But more than the words, I received the beauty, grace and Yeshiwa’s (Jesus’s) loving heart that was and is the center of each of these stories. The full text appears in my book, Nine, a Holy Week Story of Love.

I do not ask you to believe me. I ask only that you read the words and let them reveal to you what truth they have to share.

This part of the story tells of an encounter with one of Yeshiwa’s tormentors who was present during his whipping.

Chapter Six: Path (excerpt)

Yeshiwa’s narrative

And I was given over to the pain of men. To men whose hearts had long ago left them, leaving them free to release all of their harshness upon me without limit. And yet in their desire to exalt over me, they suffered as I did, with every lash and cruel word, as they brought more pain into their lives and mine. When they had exhausted all of their strength, they dropped their whips and let me lay upon the coolness of the earth.

I could feel the emptiness of their spirits and I wept tears for them, for their lost lives. One, a man named Aaron, came over to me, grabbed my hair and pulled it back, so that my face tilted up toward his. I knew he meant to mock me further, but when our eyes met, he found he could not move or speak. In that single loving moment, his heart came alive. Came back fully to him. The light that had left him was born anew and was fanned into full flame and he fell down beside me and wept until he was as dry as the desert.

He gazed at me beseechingly and said, “I am so sorry master, so very sorry. I know I deserve nothing good, for I am a most wicked man, but please, please forgive me.”

I placed my hand over his heart and looked into his eyes, holding his gaze, and said to him, “My son, you are forgiven, go in peace and show love to the world. Show them the love I have shown you.”

He bowed at my feet, continuing to cry, and said, “Thank you my lord, this I will do all the days of my life,” and he helped me to my feet and walked the path to the cross with me.

—-

The words above flowed easily through me, channeled in a way I cannot fully comprehend, yet believe without even a shadow of a doubt. Each time I read them I cry tears when Aaron’s heart is changed and becomes alive again.

What a wonderful thing, to have your heart revived, to have your life changed, to want to share what you received with others, to give away your gift.

To me, this is the radiant message here. It is the redeeming nature of love. A free gift, available to everyone who chooses it.

That is what channeled through me and stays with me. I hope there is something here for you too.