Tag: authority

Digging Deeper

Part 4 – Purification of the Doorway

I was going to share my conversation with Isis at this time

Instead, something unexpected happened. 

As I sat quietly contemplating everything that had unfolded during the last couple of days, I felt a gentle nudge from Yeshua.

Not in words at first, simply the knowing that another piece needed to be opened at this time.

So I listened.

I saw myself  sitting in my chair reflecting upon the dream, the sacred mountain and the movie and I noticed something I had not consciously see before.

Each story had stirred a different yet similar emotion within me.

Anger.

It was not uncontrolled anger or rage

It was the quiet ache that arises whenever authority is used to control, diminish or separate rather than to serve.

As this realization settled within me, the scene around me changed.

I suddenly found myself outside an ancient temple in the middle east.

People filled the courtyard.

Animals were being sold for sacrifice.   

Merchants called out to those entering the temple.

It appeared that for the people this was familiar and ordinary.

The in the distance I heard cheers and loud voices. 

I could see appearing at the entrance a man whom I recognized as Yeshua, walking toward the temple. 

Above the courtyard, I noticed the priests gathered together in anxious conversation.  I noticed their attention never left him.

As I watched, words from a familiar musical were playing within my head.

They spoke of a song so deeply woven into the creation that even if every voice was silenced, the stones themselves would continue singing.

Those words have always touched something deep within me when I hear them.  

Not because of the music…..

It is that they remind me that truth does not depend upon human approval.

Life itself sings the song of truth.

I thought that this must be all that I was meant to witness.

Then one of the cats in our home began calling to me.

Like many who share their lives with cats, I obediently went to see what was needed.

He simply wanted to go outside and so I smiled, opened the door and watched him wander into the garden.

Sometimes wisdom arrives in the smallest of pauses.

 As I returned to my chair, something shifted.

I suddenly saw that what had moved me so deeply was not simply the events in the courtyard

It was the misuse of authority

Whether through governments

Religion…

Institutions…

Or individuals..

Whenever authority seeks to control rather than to serve, something within me immediately responds

That realization sent me back the stories of the weekend trilogy.

The barren landscape

The Sacred mountain

The hidden society beneath the sea.

All three reflected different expressions of the same them.

I sat quietly with that understanding.

Then the vision continued.

Most of us know what happened next.

Yeshua entered the courtyard

He overturned the tables

The story usually moves quickly from there toward the events that followed

But this time…

Yeshua simply smiled and said,

“Keep watching”

The scene had changed.

Now I found myself in another land, surrounded by mountains

Ahead of me I saw a man striking his mule.

Another man gently stepped between them.

I recognized him it was Gautama Buddha.

He quietly spoke with the man, explaining the importance of kindness and compassion toward every living being.

When the conversation ended, the man lowered his hand and dropped the stick.

Gautama Buddha walked away to a quiet place and sat down. 

As I approached he motioned me to sit with him.

I bowed and asked him what I should call him and he said “Gautama”.

A moment later Yeshua joined us.

Yeshua looked at me with a smile.

“Were you surprised?”

I laughed softly.

“Yes… and no.”

 “ I was surprised to find myself suddenly here, but not at what transpired at the temple. “

“I understand why you overturned the tables,” I replied.

“I have felt that same fire rise within me whenever I witness injustice.”

As I looked at Gautama I said, : I understand why you chose another path.”

Gautama smiled gently.

“Anger is simply an emotion,” he said.

“It naturally arises whenever compassion encounters suffering or injustice.”

He paused before continuing.

“It is not the emotion that determines our path.

It is what we choose to do with its energy.”

Yeshua nodded.

“My desire to stop what I believed dishonored the sacred pulled me out of my own center.”

He smiled again.

“Perhaps history remembers the overturned tables because they were dramatic.

But had I been standing there today, I might have responded differently.”

Neither statement diminished the other.

Both revealed another way of seeing.

Gautama continued.

“Witnessing does not mean standing aside while cruelty unfolds before us.

Compassion sometimes asks us to act.

But there is a difference between acting from clarity…

and reacting from anger.”

Yeshua looked toward me.

“When any strong emotion arises…”

He paused.

“…breathe.”

“Pause.”

“Allow the emotion to move through you rather than become you.”

Guatama said” It is not even that anger arises but that we don’t react from that place of anger.”

“Yes, said Yeshua” It is in that moment when we have anger or any raw emotion

we need to pause

take a deep breath to allow the stillness to emerge

“Then ask the stillness,

‘What is mine to do now?'”

“The answer that comes from stillness will almost always serve more deeply than the answer that comes from reaction.”

Gautama nodded.

“This is mindfulness.”

“Not the absence of emotion…

but the willingness to meet it without becoming its servant.”

Then they both looked directly at me.

“You have always been deeply moved by injustice,” Gautama said.

“The misuse of authority has been one of the great teachers of your life.”

Yeshua continued.

“This does not make you unworthy.”

The words settled into a silence deeper than any explanation.

“It is not your compassion that has held you back.

It is believing that your compassion required you to carry everything.”

I felt tears welling.

For years I had believed that caring so deeply somehow meant I should sacrifice more…

endure more…

prepare more…

prove more.

Perhaps that had been the real burden all along.

Love without sovereignty quietly becomes self-sacrifice.

Compassion without inner authority can forget its own worth.

For a long time I had mistaken those things for spiritual maturity.

Now I began to see them differently.

Gauatama spoke,

 “You my child seek Peace, balance and harmony not just for yourself but in the world.”

 You try to protect others. 

The injustice of authority being used to control or harm another has always been your trigger.”

Yeshua says:

“Now is the time to bring this into focus for balance and harmony to come forth,

so you can find Peace and self acceptance.

This is not an emotion that makes you unworthy it simply is.

As we said you need to understand that you should not punish yourself for having an emotion which arises from caring but understand it.”

What they were saying were not expressions of love.

They were invitations to return to my own center.

The conversation continued.

“When emotion arises,” Yeshua said softly,

“Witness it.

Allow it.

Breathe.

Release it.

Then listen.”

“The stillness will reveal whether action is needed…

or simply understanding.”

Without another word, both men stood.

We bowed to one another.

The vision dissolved.

I found myself once again sitting quietly in my chair.

As I reflected upon the dream…

the mountain…

and the hidden ship…

their deeper meaning finally became clear.

The barren landscape revealed systems that keep us believing separation is all that exists.

The sacred mountain revealed the longing for permission before entering what has always been sacred within us.

The hidden ship revealed how easily familiarity and control can become substitutes for freedom.

All three had stirred the same place within me.

All three reflected my own response to authority.

But now I asked different questions.

What memory first taught me that authority meant control?

Where does that feeling still live within my body?

What beliefs continue to give it life?

As I sat with those questions, another realization quietly emerged.

Without this conversation…

the throne would have remained only another spiritual symbol.

Now I understood why this chapter had come first.

Something within me had to release the belief that caring deeply made me less worthy before I could truly hear what Isis had been waiting to say.

And only then…

was I ready to enter the temple.

I believe I am ready to cross a threshold.

Isis is not coming to bestow sovereignty.

She is coming to reveal the sovereignty that could not be fully accepted until compassion was freed from the burden of self-sacrifice.

Yesterday, I was standing outside of the temple believing the door was locked.

Today, I leave it feeling that the temple doors are no longer the focus.

The one who has been standing outside them has finally turned the handle.

I am excited for the next revelation of digging deeper.

The Deeper Dive

Part 3 – Hidden in the Depths

Sometimes we simply need to step away from our everyday routines and lose ourselves in a story.

Most of us have done it at one time or another—curling up on a rainy afternoon or a cold winter evening to watch an old favorite.

For me, the next piece of this unfolding journey came through an old movie my husband had watched years before. He suggested we watch it together, so one Saturday evening we settled in, expecting nothing more than an enjoyable film.

Instead, another layer of the veil quietly lifted.

The movie was called Goliath Awaits.

It tells the story of a luxury cruise liner torpedoed during World War II. The ship sank and disappeared beneath the ocean, lost for more than forty years.

Eventually, a research vessel discovered the wreck.

As divers approached, they heard something impossible.

Someone was tapping out an SOS from inside the ship.

Curious, they carefully cleared the thick layer of marine growth covering one of the portholes. Suddenly, the hatch swung open.

A young girl looked out in surprise…

…then quickly closed it again.

A rescue mission began.

To everyone’s astonishment, they discovered that an entire society had survived within a sealed section of the ship.

Over the decades they had built a functioning community.

There was order.

Everyone had work.

Each person contributed according to their role, and those roles had passed from one generation to the next.

At first glance, it seemed remarkable.

Yet beneath the surface another reality slowly emerged.

The society was ruled through fear.

Those who questioned authority disappeared.

Those who rebelled were eliminated.

Those who became ill or could no longer contribute were quietly removed because they were considered a burden on the community.

The outward appearance of harmony concealed an undercurrent of violence that many had learned to ignore simply to survive.

As the rescuers uncovered the truth, they also discovered something else.

The leaders had no desire to be rescued.

They wanted to preserve the world they controlled.

They warned everyone about the dangers of the surface world, convincing many that remaining below was safer than risking the unknown.

Yet the irony was heartbreaking.

The ship itself was dying.

Its power source was failing.

Time was running out.

Still, those in authority denied reality because acknowledging it would mean surrendering the control they had spent decades protecting.

When the opportunity to leave finally came, some eagerly chose freedom.

Others chose to remain.

Not because they were evil.

Not because they were foolish.

But because the familiar can sometimes feel safer than hope.

Eventually, those who wished to leave were rescued.

Those who remained stayed with the only world they had ever known.

The leaders destroyed what was left of the ship.

As the credits rolled, I found myself sitting quietly.

What surprised me most was not anger.

It was sadness.

I knew the story was fictional.

Yet it didn’t feel impossible.

In many ways, I admired what the survivors had accomplished together. Against overwhelming odds they had built a functioning community through ingenuity, cooperation, and shared purpose.

Working together, humanity is capable of extraordinary things.

We witness it after natural disasters.

During times of tragedy.

Whenever compassion rises above division.

So why does it often take catastrophe to awaken our willingness to care for one another?

Then another realization surfaced.

Just as in the dream…

Just as on the sacred mountain…

There was another hidden world beneath the surface.

Once again, appearances concealed something deeper.

And once again…

The story quietly became about me.

So I sat with the questions that arose.

What am I willing to tolerate, even when my heart knows it is not for the highest good, simply because it offers comfort, safety, or acceptance?

Do I sometimes mistake familiarity for truth?

Do I remain silent because I believe my voice cannot make a difference?

Where is the line between speaking from my Being…

…and interfering with another person’s journey?

Where is the line between helping…

…and trying to rescue?

Have I aligned deeply enough with my own Presence to recognize the difference?

Do I help another because it serves them…

…or because it comforts me?

Do I cling so tightly to what I believe is true…

…that I fail to notice the cracks opening to reveal something even greater?

Do I ever look to another for answers…

…at the cost of my own sovereignty?

Do I fear the unknown so much that I cling to the familiar…

…even when my soul is quietly inviting me into a larger world?

Those questions stayed with me.

They lingered long after the movie ended.

One question, in particular, continued echoing within me.

It eventually led me into a conversation with Isis.

For several days, one phrase had been quietly repeating itself within my thoughts.

The Mystic Is Rising.

The Divine Feminine Is Flowing.

So I finally asked what it meant.

What unfolded next became another layer of this journey.

Perhaps we will explore it together in Part 4.