The Unmothered Mother

I wrote this as the beginnings of a blog post back on Dec 30 2018. It didn't happen for whatever reason. It just didn't want to be a blog post until now I guess, once I cleared some data streams, and moved to the new Wix blog format. This was previously posted in the Forum just yesterday so it will be a repeat for some.

"**TRIGGER WARNING** This post contains words some may find triggering."

I arrived in this life's world not realising that it was not the place I remembered; not the destination I had anticipated. It seems obvious now that for 46 years I have been waiting for this world to show itself to be what I thought it to be. This is not going to happen. My expectations have been following designs meant for a different blueprint. This is not the time, place, planet image I came programmed for.

It is, of course, exactly the right place my closest Bigger Self intended to reach, surreptitiously influencing many entrance points to draw Glory-Level Consciousness into a very broken image. Isn't it about time we who understand what I just wrote admit to ourselves what we are coming from? This world is so far below the point of our origin even its greatest buddhas have no concept with which to imagine our nature. To compare ourselves to anything here is unkind and confusing.

In 2012, this world was as far from being positioned to move into a new paradigm as the beginning and ending points of a parabolic curve. The Middle Astral corporates had this lower level slated for cataclysm and recycle, as they had scheduled many forgotten points previously. Imagine the weight of a planet intelligence whose entire living surface is traumatically destroyed over and over; the cataclysm an inevitable appointment with imperfect equations. An excruciating endless death dream.

Now imagine what the Voice of a planet sounds like when she labours perpetually in a miscarriage of stillbirth. Then imagine that the One labouring is a child molested, and told to be the Mother of laboratory created fetuses never permitted to attain a maturity leading to successful life. An Unmothered Mother cradling children in perpetual death. Such an agony.

There is no pretty face I can put on that image. No story comes to mind to distract me from what is truth for me. What I have now is a state of wading forward through unhappy forgotten happenings, avoiding the diversion of nirvana pools - those soft eddies described as the aim and ending of suffering. They are not an attainment point, simply a plateau from which to survey the distressed frequencies of a writhing creation.

This tightly packed reality, pressing suffocatingly around me daily, seemingly resists alteration. I don't know what else to do besides what I am already doing. Perhaps if I can reach a point where I can sit from morning til bed without engaging in a single thing, I can break the spell of groundhog day which my body is experiencing. "

And this it seems, is what I am doing now - pulling my attention and focus of action down from its frantic scurry of movement, enticing it to sit from morning til bed without engaging in the nonsense world around me. All this activity is not getting the result I think I may be wanting, so I will do something other than my usual and see what happens.