As I delighted in the lovely rainbow last night, several things occurred to me: that to me rainbows represent "promises kept," just as one did in my vision 27 years ago at the end of the message from Mary and Jacob; that I am amazed that I don't see people gathering, heads upturned, applause resounding when such a perfect natural phenomenon appears before us; that I am so fortunate to have this 4th-floor view facing east so that as the sun sets behind a passing evening storm I have full view of this miracle in the heavens; that the miracle is so much more than we know, which brings tears of joy and wonder.
Wednesday night my two granddaughters spent the night with me, following a day at the beach and a movie we all enjoyed together. These fascinating people, these lovely girls, very 10 and "almost 7," are miracles of nature, too. I have this sensation often when we are together that I want to freeze-frame certain moments; precious moments of such wonder that I want to milk them for all the wisdom that lies within them.
Following the lightning strike on our building the other night, every phenomenon of nature seems more precious and more full of meaning than we will ever know. Even the fading of the flowers surrounding our building has more meaning. We are always in transition; one color fading to be replaced by yet another breathtaking event; replacing petunias with chrysanthemums, yet holding on to the purple fountain grass that moves with grace from summer into autumn. Taking time to contemplate, to appreciate, to celebrate each and every one seems all the more precious now.
The planet is in a state of transition that I feel moving through me with powerful waves of energy. Personally, the current conditions leave me with a feeling similar to what I felt as a teenager when I had to miss school; a sense of yearning for what was going on that I would never capture. Now in Third Earth that feeling means that something so immense is unfolding that I simply cannot attend all of it.
The convergence of all Cosmic beings is holding a conference, and I ache to be part of each conversation. My choice is to breathe and lightly hold precious all that I can see, all that I can hug, all that I hold dear and remember that Mother Earth's contractions also require a releasing breath. And in breathing I recall that all is right with the world, no thing is out of place. In a breath I am reassured that I am playing the part that is mine, surrendering all that is not. All is Known. All is well. All promises are kept.
Until next time,
I am Phyllis, Becoming
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