I just love how everything in this life is turn-key and divinely orchestrated.
One of my soul sisters had acquired a book which she attempted to read, but somehow it just hadn’t resonated with her. Years later, she had a sudden inspiration to send it my way, with an equally sudden understanding that it had actually been meant for me all along. She was merely a cheerful conduit. The book was Barbara Marciniak’s Earth and its content is purportedly channeled through the author from her Pleiadian pals. I can’t say that I loved it from cover to cover, but somewhere inside it was a potent kernel of perfectly-timed truth that I needed to take in at that point in time.
Months later, Marciniak had a speaking engagement in a metaphysical bookshop in North Carolina, where I just so happened to be visiting another one of my soul sisters. So I dragged my friend along to the event. Before the talk officially began, Marciniak and her fans chatted excitedly about chemtrails and alien power conspiracies. I was mildly bored by what seemed like fear-based fervor in the room, but my friend was becoming visibly uncomfortable. She was a good sport though, and agreed to stay ’til the end of the talk. It was an opportunity to practice the art of parsing out message and messenger—because there are pearls to be gleaned if you allow the emotional reactions to subside.
Even if you don’t believe in channeling per se, you can still listen to the content and decide whether or not it’s useful. It’s like agreeing to disagree with someone—only, that someone is YOU. Or maybe it’s like using the Dr. Bronner’s soap, despite the weirdo rap on the label. Adventures in baby bathwater.
Keep the baby, toss the bathwater
Despite the political fear-mongering, or perhaps because of it, I was able to extract one enormous gift from that book and those Pleiadians (known colloquially as “the Ps”). It was about the nature of Gaia, the powerful feminine energy surrounding or governing our Earthly existence. I’d been thinking about that sort of “lost feminine” notion because of my fascination with energy healing, and had gotten this bee in my bonnet that there was an epoch in human history when hands-on healing was everyday household stuff, widely accepted as real and effective, but that over the millennia we shifted to a masculine-based culture and eradicated nearly every trace of our old fabulous witchy ways.
Whether I was tapping into some long-forgotten knowledge or romanticizing the past, I don’t really know. It was just a kick I was on. Either way, when I read Marciniak’s words about allowing as the very mother-like energy, the yin principle, something clicked in a big way.
I felt so relieved. And full of acceptance. Not just of the things happening in my personal life, but of the big picture. For once, I could sense a master plan of some sort. I mean, I’d always hoped and believed there must be one, but I hadn’t been clear on what it might be. It dawned on me that what seems like utter chaos in the world is absolutely, unequivocally OKAY because all things are allowed in this giant elaborate petri dish.
Everything changes and evolves, and the mess we’re in will work itself out. Or maybe it isn’t even a mess at all. It’s a matter of perspective. Just as a mother loves her children no matter how wretched they may become, a goddess would love everything that happens here on Earth. I realized I could borrow that point of view, and I rather liked the feeling of donning the goddess-goggles. Life is literally “all good”—perfect in its imperfection. It wasn’t so much that Marciniak’s book convinced me of anything; it acted more like a pipe wrench on a stuck-shut valve. There was already a reservoir of well-being within me, but it hadn’t been nearly as free-flowing as it could be.
What would be the positive equivalent of “the straw that broke the camel’s back”?
No longer did I need to schlep around that big iron chain of disbelief and suspicion about goodness in the world—that gigantic question mark about why we’re here. (I was still a little shaky on why I in particular was here, but that too would soon be revealed… read more in the full-length, critically acclaimed memoir, “What I Did On My Midlife Crisis Vacation.”)