These past few days, those of us who subject ourselves to the un-natural recording of time stepped across the imaginary threshold of a cycle based upon inaccurate dates of events of questionable historical veracity. “Welcome to 2016!”  I’m not trying to be a party pooper. I just want to make the point that Reality and Truth are very fuzzy critters – not nicely geometrically sliced and diced at all….

I’ve spent the turning of the year bedridden, and travelling.

My lymphatic system was on fire, burning and swollen, every nodule a torture of itching lymphocytic flurry – an anatomy lesson in intimate detail. There was no measurable fever, and although I was offered them, painkillers aren’t my thing. My body was my personal rabbit-hole, leading me to the stories of What Has Been, as recorded in my cells.

The last few days, I have experienced that which I call Spirit, whirling through my body, spinning each cell, loosening and releasing the Old Stories through centripetal force, allowing them to rise, be Known, and dissipate. My body feels like a hollow bone.

I saw that each of us is living a Life created of this blessing of Spirit in the body. Like the rupture of molecular bonds so they may dance with others, or the Princess, risen from slumber by the kiss of her Prince, what is unlocked from our cells is freed to be experienced and witnessed. What we are able to witness, we may then choose, or release.

I had an image of everyone travelling in tubes through space-time: reality tubes of our own choosing and fabrication. Others’ tubes intersect with ours, with potential mutual course-altering effects. At any point in this voyage through space-time, however, we can also stop movement along the “Space” axis and plunge into the sea of Time. As I was too exhausted and in pain to get out of bed, I closed my eyes and dove.

The experience has been not unlike that of this year’s Solstice vigil at Heartroot, except that there, in the portal that is our meditation room, we connected to other dimensions and their denizens. This was a more Alice-proportioned voyage through the Stories that have made me as I know myself to be. Ordered and ancient formulae, school report cards, Broadway scripts, political speeches – they all came undone and were consumed by the fires inside me.

Images from my life and those of my family were snipped up, reassembled, and made sense.The threads that join us all became luminescent…alive.

The evening before last, I came downstairs to watch the new Sherlock Holmes movie on PBS – HA!  It was parallel enough to the experience I was living to be startling. You can’t stop an idea once its time has come….

And, as in all good Stories, on the third day, it was done. Today, I got up and got dressed.

If it is true that within the beginning of a cycle is embedded the imprint of the whole, this could be a very…interesting? year.

May All Beings find Peace.

Blessèd Be….