We are here, we have returned. Over and over and over again we fall into the arms of the Great Mother. Our souls leaping into the void and then into the exhilaration and bliss and aloneness of separation for a glimpse of experiencing our soul in its individuation. Doing the forgetting and remembering dance by heart. Spiralling our way over and over again back to love, back to love, back to love. Following the threads and weaving our way through the universe and beyond, adding to the great tapestry of the cosmos. We each make up the very fabric of life. We are both special and not special, all at once.
In times like these many of us are being called to question the world and our place in it. What is this world that we have created? Individually and collectively?
In these times between times where so much of the world is brought to a halt. Some being called to share, some question, some rest, some reassess, some look after ourselves, some look after our children, some look after the weak, some tend to our own gardens. Grandmothers through the ages singing so we remember that our soul’s syllabus is always right in front of us. And our soul always knows the quickest way home. Both for ourselves and for humanity. The greatest journeys often end where they begin. That is part of the quest.