Spiritual Reflection from
Sunday, December 2nd, 2012
(edited & revised 1/31/2017)
(edited & revised 1/31/2017)
I woke up
this morning at 3am and then dozed until around 4am. I got up and made
some tea and toast. I reread my last spiritual direction entry as
preparation for today's assignment from my spiritual director. The assignment was to take a walk in the
woods and be with my True Mother -- the Earth. After reading the entry and reflecting on it,
I fell back to sleep, perhaps around 5:30am.
I
subsequently woke at 7:30am to find the sun shining through the windows from a
partly cloudy sky. It was beautiful -- a moment that I felt was all for me. Words followed, "Time to
wake up, Brad, time to go to the trail."
I was so delighted the rain had stopped since it was to have rained
non-stop the whole day. It had been
raining very hard just after the tea and toast I fixed earlier. I assumed my planned hike at Moulton Falls
would be in the midst of heavy rain the whole time I would be there – but now
it wouldn't.
As I
drove to Moulton Falls Trail Park, the mostly cloudy sky with patches of sun
breaking through here and there spoke to me in ways that are hard to describe. It
seemed that light was peeking through and saying, “Hope is on the way, Brad.”
I saw flocks of geese heading southeast in formation and felt that to be
significant as well. The thought that
kept coming to me while driving toward the park and seeing the geese was,
"Take flight!"
At the
Moulton Falls Park, I roamed around a bit before I finally located the trail
head. I then follow it along the Lewis River. The trail rises above the river to a nice height and
thus provides a wonderful vantage point from which to see the rocks and rapids that
are quite dramatic at three or four different points. The sounds of the
river rapids are so powerful, prevalent, and overwhelm everything else.
I walk
further and come to a bridge over the river. I take photos from the
bridge and then eventually walk a switchback to higher ground that is a picnic
area with several tables. The tables are covered in leaves, obviously the will remain until next spring or summer.
I feel
drawn to one table in particular right next to a leafless tree covered in moss. The tree is probably beech or ash. The trunk
is covered with a draping kind of moss and at the base is a beautiful mature
fern. I clear leaves from a portion of the picnic table bench nearest the
tree and sit down. I sit, close my eyes, and simply listen. The
sound most significant at first is the river's intensity from its rapids.
What I then
note is the absence of animal sounds. No birds, no crickets, no nothing.
Occasionally, there is the far away sound of a passing car. But as
I listen more closely, I pick up the sound of moisture dripping off
the tree canopy and off the moss clothing the trees. I hear drops hit dead
leaves on the forest floor and but also fern branches that are quite alive.
I hear drops impact the raincoat I’m wearing. I am thinking the
drops land on both that which is alive and that which isn't. I then realize that that which is seemingly
lifeless on the forest floor is being prepared for its return to life through
the raindrops and moisture that help it decompose and eventually become part of
something living again.
I find
that as each drop falls from the trees or from the sky or from the moss and
hits a living leaf or a living fern branch, it's as though the leaf or fern
branch shudders powerfully alive in the moment -- shaking and reverberating sympathetically
into my body so that my body convulses in nearly symbiotic response.
Finally,
I leave the bench and move to a part of the trail that's the entrance to the
picnic area and I begin a prayer and speak this blessing: "Bless all
that is living. Bless all that is dying. Bless all that has been
received and all that begins its path back toward life." Why have I
offered such blessings?
I start
to leave the area and my vision captures part of the river's rapids obscured by
the brush and trees. I want to
investigate further. I wonder if there will be a trail down to the
river’s edge that offers me a better viewpoint. I find such a path. I take it down to the river. Eventually the path ends. If I move to get closer to the river in
order to view the magnificent rapids upstream, I must go where this is no path.
I decide to do so. My footing is unsure. Some of the rocks
are quite slippery. Sometimes the moss on the rocks helps. Other
brush, now leafless, helps in that the branches are sturdy and I can hold on to
them to keep my footing safe and not fall onto the rocks or into the river's
rapids.
At this
point, I notice a dark object flying from out of the forest near me yet a
little above me and over the river. It has a white head. As it passes, I see the distinct white tail plumage
of a Bald Eagle as it glides so effortlessly over the river. I am confounded and astonished at the beauty
of the moment. This trail had been so
devoid of animal life and had I been a second earlier or later, had I not
responded to the urging to get closer to the river, I would not have seen this
magnificent sight. What can this possibly mean?
It seems
that the miraculous moment involving the river and its immense power and the
majestic eagle with its freedom of flight are saying, "Take flight. Go with the flow. Let everything flow.
Hold nothing back, for nothing can be held back. There is no force strong
enough or powerful enough to hold back that which is and that which is coming
and that which will in time be gone."
It's then
that I begin my return to the trail from the river's edge. Again, I am so
grateful for rocks that make steps toward the trail easier and I am most glad
for leafless strong brush that grows between the rocks so I can hold on to it. It assists me as before with keeping my
balance and not falling on the rocks or into the rapids – something I nearly do
a time or two. It's then that I notice a piece of wood lying on the
ground. It looks to me like a wooden
representation of Samson's jawbone of an ass. I can't resist. I
pick it up and take it with me thinking of the physical strength and stamina of
Samson. A little further, my vision is drawn to a tree branch large enough to
be a walking staff and as I look on it, the words impressed on me are,
"The staff of a prophet, even one like Moses. It is to be your staff
for the freeing and healing of others."
Why do
this thoughts come to me. Aren’t they
but self-delusion. What is God’s Mother
Earth telling me? What is she trying to have me remember, reconnect to?
What is the message? Am I a modern day Moses? Am I Moses
returned? I hardly think so. Such thinking is simply the grandiosity of
ego not yet subdued. For if it were true, there would be a place
to go, a place to flee and be free. As
it is, there is no physical place any longer to lead present day slaves. There is only a state of mind to
be found, discovered, and through that state of mind be freed, allowed to explore, and live life fearlessly before the pharaohs
of today’s world.
Where are
the true prophets, God. Where are the
true apostles? Where are the true messengers
and teachers for you and your coming that will usher in a world like that which the
Hebrew Prophet Isaiah envisioned so very long ago – a world that will have the
majesty of a mountain – even a holy mountain in which nothing shall hurt or
destroy?
Humanity,
to heal yourself and the world and earth on which you reside, means an end to the
pharaohs of wealth, influence, power and prestige. You, Humanity, have tolerated them in one
form or another for far too long.
Compassionately, yet bravely, you must help them find and live out other means
to assuage their passions and lust for wealth, unseemly influence, prestige and
power. They must find it in other things
more satisfying than that to which they have attached themselves. Let the healing begin.
Brad
Shumate, M.S., M.A., LPC, LMHC, BCPC
Free of
Encumbrance
© Copyright Brad Shumate
© Copyright Brad Shumate
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