The Unknown Path | Cristian and Christine

We don’t speak in a common language, for most of what is spoken is but a bare outline of the depths that are within the silence of communion. Listening, hearing, and assimilating the resonance of words unspoken, for myself this is the only way forward, out of this endless labyrinth of missteps, false beliefs, and misdirects that have confused and drowned out the voice of Spirit within. In our minds and with our words we have built structure upon structure—some beautiful, others twisted torments with a deepening darkness and sense of lost.

In today’s world we are seeing the final iteration of the material mechanical world imposing itself upon the very breath of life. Life which must be breathed in freedom and joy.

In the cacophony of voices clanging against each other—the swords and shields of words—war ensues, and the outer world responds to this discordant resonance. Few, though more each day, real human beings are returning the wisdom of the heart, the one heart that resonates in the magnetic frequency we call love. Permeating all of reality, love is knowable, tangible, and once found becomes the foundational stone of perception—and the ever expanding consciousness that breaks free of all that would bind it.

For years I have written on the importance of remembering, which is the integration of the soul and all that preceeded this moment. It has always been available to anyone who earnestly and honestly seeks Truth. My mind is always questioning, at moments so full as to prevent any attempt at integration. I have learned to let it be, for that is part of an ongoing, never ending process. Letting go of the dichotomies, the seeming paradoxes, there comes a moment where the Mind is emptied; here once again one finds themself in the Void, the great mysterium of Life. Here one breaths more deeply and the imagination is freed from constraints—new vistas open and with them new realities are born.

With Grace the realization arises that all things are possible. Humans are so locked into the system called time that we grow impatient and frustrated that these visions aren’t yet manifest in the seen material world. This too can serve the true heart, for each is called to pour forth their gnosis, called to break open the individual construct until freed into the field of communion.

There are so many folks I honor—they are beating new paths through the heavy tangled undergrowth of unattended garden. We, that is all of us if honest, neglected for too long to tend our inner garden. Some noxious weeds took hold and it is our work to disintegrate, absolve, and transmute what went off path in times before.

It would not be wise if I did not caution that to carry guilt is, in itself, a noxious weed. Remorse is the keynote of seeing error and setting the course straight, course correction many say. Guilt, once transmuted becomes surrender to the Highest Will for who hasn’t heard, that to err is human and forgive (oneself) divine.

Rungs on the ladder become less visible the higher one climbs, until they disappear. The ascent has a sense of peril, for one misstep can cause another fall, for by looking back the steps before also fade away.

As a lover of words, the ones spoken or written with thought and heart, the word imagination has always struck me as something so much more than the fantasy of momentary ideas. If I break the word into parts more fullness with a potential appears:

I (I AM)

Mage (i-mage or magi or magic)

i (small self)

nation (nativity, place of birth).

Perhaps this only speaks to me, for within the innate capacity to imagine both rebirth and creation reveal the true power, one we have left untapped. Dank ugly manifestations don’t use the imagination, this is easily observed by what passes for art these days— scribblings and blood streaked canvases are not art—more like a death knell foretelling the end of such tortuous souls.

The whole of creation is a harmonic symphony and yet most know it not. Only within the stillness will the song of stars be heard.

“On that fateful afternoon in February in Budapest in 1882, when he was given the vision of the rotating magnetic field, there had come with it an illumination that revealed to him the whole cosmos, in its infinite variations and its myriad of forms and manifestations, as a symphony of alternating currents. For him, the harmonies of the universe were played on a scale of electrical vibrations of a vast range in octaves. In one of the lower octaves was a single note, the 60-cycle-per-second alternating current, and in one of the higher octaves was visible light with its frequency of billions of cycles per second.

Nikola Tesla had in mind a course of experimentation in which he would explore this region of electrical vibration between his alternating current and light waves. He would increase the frequency of the alternating current through the unknown intervening regions. If one note in a lower octave produced such a magnificent invention as the rotating magnetic field and the polyphase system, who could imagine the glorious possibilities that lay hidden in other notes in higher octaves? And there were thousands of octaves to be explored. He would construct an electrical harmonium by producing electrical vibrations in all frequencies, and study their characteristics. He would then, he hoped, be able to understand the motif of the cosmic symphony of electrical vibrations that pervaded the entire universe.”

If there is, indeed, a Great Music from which all things have formed, it appears that Nikola Tesla had a brief opportunity to listen to it.”

[Quote from Prodigal Genius by John J. O’Neill, p. 84.]