Prayer, 9, and the Divine Feminine
My numerological year this year is 9. Completion, letting go, opening to the unknown, replenishing, lying fallow, as well as getting back in touch with expanded imagination and visionary abilities. I feel such a sucking of my energy down, or is it out, into the deeper, or is it higher, dimensions. Recently I have become fascinated with the idea of prayer and have been writing and reading prayers. I added a section to my website: Pick a Prayer, as well as a new message page—and my first special message is on this subject. I sorted through many prayers from around the world, choosing ones that are very alive and not too wordy. I loved the immersion of doing this. It occurs to me that prayer is a method for shifting from the individualistic, masculine mind that we use everyday—the "enterpriser self" I wrote about last week—into the feminine consciousness, or primal self, that reveals our oneness and fullness. There is much to say about the ascendancy of the divine feminine and its relationship to the art of BEING, and it is much on my mind these days, as it too is connected to the experience of 9 and universal awareness. This is something I am tremendously excited about, and will be penetrating into much more in days and weeks to come. For now, I ponder the deeper meaning in the words of the prayer that used to scare me, but now gives me great comfort, that I still say every night before dropping off to sleep: Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. If I should live another day, I pray to God to guide my way.

Equinox
I bought daffodils yesterday and they're arching their necks and blooming proudly and perkily next to my computer right now. They have more life force than I seem to today! Here we are, day and night of equal duration, the equinox allowing us to contemplate the BALANCE OF OPPOSITES. I've been aware of a need to pull in and just BE, that the most interesting work I'm doing may be at night while I sleep. I want to absorb and feel nurtured, not necessarily to put out and create in an ambitious way, as I see so many people—caught in the rat race—doing nonstop (how do they replenish?). A friend used to call this the balance between the primal self and the enterpriser self, or the deep feminine and the materializing masculine. I've been focused in the enterpriser for a long time, living in the frontal lobes of my brain—what another friend used to call "the walnuts"—and life seems dull and flat. The primal is calling me, dragging me, down. Going down into the formless, into the purely experiential, helps eliminate clutter—which is another part of what the equinox is about: move now beyond the winter contraction, shed the old skins, break through the shells. Be squeaky new like tender green shoots, vulnerable, unprotected, yet motivated by a fierce force that is so much greater than your current concept of self, that aims to grow you to maturity and knows the blueprint. Decluttering is not a masculine act, but one of dissolution and release of memory. Today is the day of reckoning: can I feel nurtured enough? Can I trust that unknown lifewave that is just beginning to rise, that will carry me forward to where I know not?

Armageddon Meditation
I realized a couple days ago that I was having symptoms of a sort of "bi-location" I often experience just before a world event where people die en masse. Often I need to sleep in the middle of the day, or find myself thinking thoughts that are not mine. This time I was thinking about giving up, how difficult things are and how nothing is working. I thought I might be possessed in some way and called a psychic friend who is attuned to these things. He said "No, you're picking up on a world event; and that's what the world is thinking right now." I had thought earlier this year that we had entered the Armageddon time, that it was possible we would see a first sign of nuclear or biological warfare soon. I seem to work on the other side with mass deaths, helping people use the energy of the event itself as an aid to enlightenment. It's a strange notion, but as I meditated on this later, I saw that many people, both in the body and between lives, help stabilize souls who choose to leave with a group in a dramatic physical event.

We can all help with this: my guidance showed me that we must practice breathing: "I inhale and receive everything from the world; I exhale and give everything I know and have to the world. I inhale and lovingly include everyone inside my ball of awareness; I exhale and communicate love to every particle of every body in the world. I inhale and expand into a huge ball that includes huge amounts of universal wisdom, I exhale and transmit that wisdom to all sentient beings." We can include people who are about to die in this meditation, and we can do it as we're stopped at a traffic light or waiting in line at the market.

Spring Rains
It's been raining for days here in San Francisco. A couple weeks ago, before this series of storms began, I dreamed I looked in my back yard and the water was up to the lower edge of my picture windows and about to come in. Yesterday I moved my night stands in the bedroom to vacuum, and water was seeping in along the baseboard; the carpet was sopping wet. Flashing back to the dream, I thought about the meaning of both my night dream and "day dream." Water like this feels like an outpouring of emotion, perhaps from my own personal depths—things I hadn’t known were there—or perhaps it’s an invasion of feelings from society and the world. Whatever is surfacing, I haven’t fully realized what it is yet. I’m just acknowledging that when emotion needs to become conscious, it seeps in no matter how protected you think you are.