Tag: writing

Digging Deeper: Releasing the Vow to Carry the Past

Last night I was awakened to look again at something I thought I had already cleared.

Apparently, there was another layer.

It connects with what I wrote about yesterday—the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, free will, choices, vows and oaths, and the Luminous Body of Embodiment.

I am still exploring how these pieces fit together within my own understanding of Creation.

After writing in my journal about what happened during the night, I realized there had been a trigger.

Earlier, I had listened to several people being interviewed. Some of their responses brought a deep sadness into me.

For a moment, I moved out of witnessing.

I found myself thinking:

How can this still be happening?

How can people still not see?

That reaction opened the doorway into what surfaced during the night.

At first I debated whether any of this should be shared.

Perhaps it was entirely personal.

Perhaps it belonged only to my own process.

Then I realized that even if someone does not resonate with the particular imagery or memories through which my understanding came, they may recognize the larger pattern.

So I will share the story and allow the resonance to fall where it may.

If it speaks to you, sit with it.

If it does not, simply let it go.

The Story Beneath the Story

I have written before about certain inner memories and spiritual experiences I associate with Atlantis.

There are countless stories about Atlantis—historical theories, myths, metaphysical teachings, visions and spiritual traditions. I am not asking anyone to accept my experience as a literal history of what occurred.

I can only share what arose within me and what it revealed about myself.

For much of my life, two patterns have repeatedly surfaced.

One is abandonment.

The other is a deep distrust of people who misuse authority.

I have worked with both for many years.

Layer after layer emerged.

I thought much of the abandonment wound had been healed, and in many ways it had.

The authority issue was different.

Again and again I would encounter something involving the misuse of power and feel myself move out of alignment.

I could understand intellectually that I was being asked to witness rather than become entangled.

Yet I would hear or read something and find myself thinking:

How can this still exist?

And underneath that question was something deeper.

Last night I began to see it.

The Memory of Failure

Whenever Atlantis entered my awareness in the past, I often experienced what felt like standing within a great dimensional vortex.

Events seemed to move around me while I stood in the center.

The strongest feelings were failure, abandonment and being left behind.

Over time, an inner story emerged.

I perceived myself as a priestess during the final period of Atlantis who left the temple and tried to warn others that changes were necessary.

In the memory, corruption had entered leadership and spiritual institutions. Separation among people had grown. Scientific experimentation was creating consequences that those involved either could not or would not recognize.

I tried to warn people.

They did not listen.

Another aspect of the inner experience involved what I perceive as another expression of my greater Presence observing humanity from beyond ordinary earthly awareness.

Again, the purpose seemed to be observation and guidance for those willing to listen.

Again came the same experience:

They did not listen.

Whether these experiences represent literal past lives, symbolic material from consciousness, or another way my deeper mind and spirit have shown me a pattern is ultimately less important to me than what the pattern revealed.

Somewhere within myself I had concluded:

I failed.

And from that belief came another:

I must stay and help until they remember.

The Vow

That was the piece I had not fully seen.

What I had interpreted for years as service may also have contained a vow.

I would help.

I would warn.

I would remind.

I would remain until others remembered who they were.

That intention may have been born from love.

But even a loving intention can become a burden when we begin to believe that another person’s awakening is our responsibility.

As I looked more deeply, I saw how often this pattern seemed to repeat through the stories of human civilization.

Kingdoms rise.

Empires fall.

Power becomes concentrated.

People warn.

Others refuse to listen.

New systems emerge.

Then eventually similar patterns appear again.

And I realized something very simple.

People have choice.

I may not understand another person’s choice.

I may deeply disagree with it.

I may see consequences that seem obvious to me.

But their choice is still theirs.

That realization brought an unexpected release.

Perhaps the sadness I felt listening to those interviews was not simply about what people were saying today.

Perhaps it touched the ancient place within me that whispered:

It is happening again, and you have failed to stop it.

But I have not failed.

Because it was never my responsibility to control another person’s awakening.

From Saving to Witnessing

I have never consciously thought of myself as someone trying to save people.

My desire has always been to offer a spark—a thought, a story, a question, a moment of remembrance that might encourage someone to seek their own alignment.

Yet even within that loving intention, I can now see traces of responsibility.

If they do not hear, have I failed?

If humanity repeats an old pattern, did those who tried to illuminate another possibility fail?

If someone chooses differently from what I believe would bring greater unity, must I somehow convince them?

No.

That is the deeper release.

My responsibility is my embodiment.

My responsibility is my alignment.

My responsibility is how I choose to walk.

What another person does with their life, their consciousness and their choices belongs to them.

This does not mean that we become indifferent.

It does not mean that we stop caring.

It does not mean that we never speak.

It means that we stop measuring our success by whether another person agrees, understands, awakens or changes.

There is tremendous freedom in that.

Perhaps the Story Was the Medicine

For years I experienced this inner Atlantis story as a place of abandonment and failure.

Later, I began to understand it as service.

Now another layer has emerged.

Release.

If I imagined the entire story, it does not diminish what it revealed within me.

The story carried an energy.

It held a pattern.

It helped me identify something that had influenced how I responded to authority, responsibility, humanity and even my own spiritual work.

And now that pattern no longer needs to define me.

That may be one of the gifts of going deeper.

Sometimes we spend too much time arguing about whether an inner experience is historically, metaphysically or literally true.

Perhaps another question can be equally valuable:

What is this experience revealing within me?

Does it free me?

Does it help me understand myself?

Does it bring me into greater compassion?

Does it return me to Presence?

If so, perhaps the story has served its purpose.

Words and Presence

Another realization has been unfolding alongside all of this.

I have spent much of my life writing, speaking, teaching and sharing.

And lately I have been shown repeatedly that words themselves are limited.

This does not mean words have no value.

Words can point.

Words can encourage.

Words can awaken curiosity.

Words can offer comfort and companionship.

But words are not Presence.

I think of Jesus, Buddha, Zoroaster and the many beings throughout history whose lives have continued to influence humanity.

Was it only their words that changed people?

Or was there something within the way they were?

Perhaps Presence was the deeper teaching.

A person can repeat beautiful words about love without embodying love.

A person can study compassion without becoming compassionate.

A person can speak endlessly of Oneness while continuing to create separation.

Eventually, the teaching must become the life.

Perhaps this is where my own path is leading me now.

Not away from writing.

But into a different relationship with it.

I do not need to write in order to save anyone.

I do not need to convince.

I do not need to make another person understand.

I can write because something wishes to be shared.

Then I can release the words.

Those who resonate will receive what is theirs.

Those who do not are free to walk another path.

The Vow Is Complete

I now see that somewhere within my inner story I made a vow:

I will stay.

I will help.

I will remind them.

Perhaps that vow served me once.

Perhaps it helped carry me through experiences I needed to have.

But I no longer need it.

A vow made from love can still be released when its purpose is complete.

I do not abandon humanity by releasing responsibility for humanity.

I do not stop loving others when I honor their free will.

I do not fail because someone chooses differently from me.

And I do not need to remain bound to an ancient story of failure in order to serve today.

I can simply be here.

Present.

Aligned.

Loving.

Aware.

And allow others the dignity of their own journey.

There is something very peaceful in that realization.

Perhaps true service is not carrying another.

Perhaps it is becoming so fully present within ourselves that our Presence becomes an invitation.

No demand.

No persuasion.

No obligation.

Simply a light that says:

There is another way, if you choose to see it.

A Deeper Look Within

There is much more unfolding around the Tree of Knowledge, free will, writing, embodiment and the Luminous Body.

I sense those pieces will become clearer in time.

But for today, this is enough.

I need to allow this realization to settle.

Perhaps you do too.

You might ask yourself:

Have I made vows—consciously or unconsciously—that I no longer need to carry?

Do I feel responsible for someone else’s awakening, healing or choices?

Is there an old experience—whether from this life, ancestral memory, spiritual imagery, dream, or something I cannot explain—that still carries the energy of failure?

Where have I felt abandoned?

Where have I believed I failed?

What would happen if I released the responsibility I attached to that experience?

And perhaps the most important question:

Who am I when I no longer have to save anyone?

Do not be afraid to look deeper.

Sometimes beneath the pain is not another wound.

Sometimes beneath the pain is the vow that kept the wound alive.

And beneath the vow may be freedom.

If this resonates, sit quietly with it.

If it does not, let it pass.

We each have our own path of remembering.

And increasingly I understand that honoring that truth may itself be an expression of Oneness.

I AM Quinara

Digging Deeper: Clearing the Lens of Perception

Over the last few days, I have found myself taking another deeper dive—this time seeking greater understanding of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil and how it may relate to duality, free will, and the purpose behind our experience of separation.

At times, this process can be a struggle.

I must continually become aware of what I have been told, what I have believed, and what I have accepted as truth in order to make room for something deeper to unfold.

It keeps bringing me back to something I have written about before:

Truth and wisdom evolve as I evolve.

That does not necessarily mean that truth itself changes. Rather, my ability to perceive and understand it changes.

As we release preconceived narratives, learned beliefs, and the energies attached to them, perhaps we make room for a clearer understanding.

But letting go rarely happens all at once.

It happens in layers.

Some beliefs sit near the surface and are easily recognized. Others have become woven so deeply into our understanding of ourselves and our world that we may not even realize they are there.

The stories of Earth, humanity, and Creation have been told in countless ways and from countless perspectives—through myths, parables, sacred texts, mystical experiences, oral traditions, visions, and channeling.

Each carries something.

Yet each also passes through the consciousness of the person receiving, interpreting, remembering, and sharing it.

That does not necessarily make the story wrong.

It reminds me to listen differently.

It reminds me of the importance of inner alignment and stillness when I encounter something I hear or read.

Rather than immediately asking,

“Is this true?”

perhaps I can first ask,

“What does this awaken within me?”

“Where do I feel resonance?”

“Where do I feel resistance?”

“Is the resistance coming from inner knowing, or from something I have previously been taught?”

And perhaps most importantly:

“Can I remain open long enough to allow greater understanding to emerge?”

The path of return to Oneness seems, at least for me, to require this continual willingness to clear the lens through which I perceive.

That is where I currently find myself with the Tree of Knowledge.

What began as a question about the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is now connecting, in my own exploration, with free will, the luminous body, duality, and the story of Adam and Eve.

I do not yet have the entire picture.

Pieces come.

Then I sit with them.

Another piece arrives.

Sometimes I recognize that what I thought I understood was still passing through an old filter, and I must become still again.

There is a thread being woven through all of it.

I can feel that.

But I also recognize that I cannot force the revelation simply because I want to understand it.

I must come into the resonance from which I can perceive it more clearly.

What is unfolding for me may not be a revelation for anyone else.

And that is all right.

Perhaps something I discover will simply help someone look at an old story differently.

Perhaps it will help another person understand some of the apparent chaos within our world.

Perhaps it will open another doorway.

For me, it is opening another Gateway of Oneness—one I feel I have sought throughout much of my life.

In one way or another, I think many of us are doing something similar.

We are looking at the world.

We are looking at ourselves.

We are questioning what we have been taught.

We are trying to make sense of what we see around us while seeking the Light that leads us beyond separation and into a greater experience of Being.

There is a teaching attributed to Jesus that says, in essence, that what he did, others could also do—and even greater things.

Whether one approaches those words historically, spiritually, symbolically, or through a particular faith is not the most important part for me.

The thought itself opens something.

What if the example was never meant simply to create another system to follow?

What if it was an invitation to remember what can be embodied?

Love.

Compassion.

Truth.

Presence.

Oneness.

Perhaps the example matters more than the structure that later forms around it.

Systems can provide structure and guidance, but systems can also become limiting when the structure becomes more important than the living truth it was created to serve.

Eventually, each of us must walk the path ourselves.

Knowledge can point toward the doorway.

Wisdom may help us recognize it.

But embodiment asks us to walk through.

You may wonder, then, why I continue pursuing understanding about the Tree, free will, duality, and these other pieces if embodiment is what truly matters.

The answer is simple.

I did not consciously go searching for this particular thread.

It came to me.

Over the years I have learned to pay attention when the same themes begin appearing through synchronicity, contemplation, dreams, conversations, or inner prompting.

Something is asking me to look more deeply.

I am beginning to perceive what feels, to me, like an old agreement or pattern—something humanity may knowingly or unknowingly participate within.

I am not yet ready to define it.

That is part of the deeper dive.

What I do know is that, for myself, greater understanding often allows greater release.

When I can see something clearly, I am no longer unconsciously bound by it in quite the same way.

Perhaps that is what this exploration is really about.

Not acquiring more information.

Not proving another interpretation of Creation.

Not replacing one belief system with another.

But becoming clear enough within myself to recognize what I am ready to release and what I am ready to embody.

This is part of my path.

As the understanding continues to unfold, I will share what I can in case some part of it has value for another traveler.

We are all experiencing our own realizations, releases, and changes.

Each in our own way.

Each in our own timing.

Each clearing another portion of the lens.

I will try to be more regular in my sharing, but please be patient when there are spaces between my writings.

Sometimes the silence is part of the writing.

Sometimes I need to live something before I can find the words to share it.

As always, feel free to comment or email.

And to everyone who has subscribed, reads these messages, or simply stops by from time to time—thank you.

I hope something I share helps illuminate a step upon your own path.

For none of us is walking alone.

I AM Quinara

Deeper Dive into Personal Integrity

For myself, I try always to self-examine and self-reflect when something gives me pause. It may come through world events, my spiritual journey, questions of personal integrity, or simply something that causes me to stop and wonder.

I have been doing some clearing lately, both internally and externally, and during this time something came up that caused me to reflect more deeply.

Someone left a simple comment on one of my posts:

“Actor?”

I didn’t understand what they meant, so I asked. I received no response.

Since I am always open to examining my words, what I share, and even my own integrity, I decided to explore the possibilities of what that question might mean.

Why?

Because when I share my journey, I try to be truthful about my experiences, my realizations, my faults, and even the places where I have struggled.

I do not always immediately succeed in aligning with or embodying a new understanding. I share that too, because I hope it helps others recognize that this is a process. We are not expected to suddenly become perfect because we have received a new realization. We are simply asked to do the best we can each day to live what we have come to understand.

So I asked myself:

Am I acting? Am I saying one thing while failing to do my best to embody the truths I share?

As I reflected, I knew the answer.

I am trying every day.

Some days I do better than others. Some days I recognize my misalignment quickly, while other times it takes longer.

But I am trying.

To me, that means I am not pretending to be something I am not. I am walking through the process of becoming more aligned with what I understand today to be true.

That brought me to another question: What does it mean to live in integrity with our truth?

I realized long ago that truth, as we understand it, can change.

Our truth is often relative to our experiences, beliefs, awareness, and resonance in a particular moment of our journey. What I understood as truth ten or twenty years ago may not be what I understand today.

We can become stagnant and refuse to consider other possibilities, or we can remain open and allow more to be revealed as our understanding deepens and our perspective expands.

I have shared this throughout my writings because my journey has continually changed me—and as I have changed, so has my understanding.

I do not expect anyone to believe as I do.

Each of us has to discover our own truth in the moment we are living. If we remain open to deeper understanding, new doors may open and reveal something we were not previously able to see.

I am on this journey with you.

I am not here to tell anyone what to believe or how their journey should unfold. I simply share some of what I experience and the possibilities I discover along the way, in case something within them might be helpful to someone else.

Then another thought arose.

Is the process of embodiment, in some ways, like being an actor?

Perhaps we first receive a “script” describing what it means to live as our Presence. Then we begin practicing the words, the qualities, and the way of Being until eventually they are no longer something we are consciously trying to remember.

They become part of us.

For instance, I have sometimes been given three virtues at a time to work with more deeply in my daily life.

That caused me to wonder:

Should I act more peaceful, more patient, or more allowing even when that is not what I am feeling inside?

The answer was not as simple as I first thought.

For me, it begins with mindfulness.

When I recognize that I am no longer peaceful or centered, I can consciously return to that inner place of stillness. From there, I can look at what has caused me to feel out of balance or out of alignment.

I can acknowledge it.

I can work with it.

I can clear what is ready to be released.

Then, as the energy shifts, I am able to return naturally to the flow.

Sometimes this happens quickly. Other times it takes considerably longer.

But I have realized that the transformation begins with the simple recognition:

I am out of alignment, and I choose to return.

Perhaps that is the difference between pretending to embody a virtue and practicing embodiment.

Pretending says, I must appear peaceful even though I am not.

Practice says, I recognize that I have moved away from peace, and I consciously choose to find my way back to it.

Eventually, through awareness, intention, and practice, what once required conscious effort begins to become our natural resonance.

We are no longer acting peaceful.

We have become more peaceful.

We are no longer acting patient.

Patience begins to live within us.

And perhaps that is how embodiment happens—not through perfection, but through returning again and again until what we practice becomes what we naturally express.

Another lesson I have been learning is not to judge myself so harshly when I fall out of alignment.

Judgment does not help me return.

Awareness does.

Compassion does.

The willingness to begin again does.

So after all of this reflection, I still have no idea what that person meant when they wrote, “Actor?”

But perhaps I no longer need to know.

I am grateful for the question because it caused me to pause, examine myself, and dive more deeply into my understanding of personal integrity and embodiment.

Sometimes even a question we do not understand can become a doorway.

I don’t know whether any of this will resonate with anyone else, but I share it for your own contemplation and discernment.

May your journey become a little lighter as you remember:

You are loved.
You are worthy.
You belong.

Keep moving along the path.

You do not have to see the entire journey from where you stand today.

The path will reveal itself as you walk it.

Witness and Allow

Today my deeper dive brings me to another aspect of embodiment with which I have been struggling: witnessing and allowing.

I imagine this is a challenge for many of us, especially at this time in human history. Even as I contemplate what to write, I feel the urge to speak firmly about things I hold as truth. Allowing others to hold and express their beliefs can be difficult when what I hear or see seems unjust or untrue.

On my personal pages, I have often felt compelled to share something in the hope of stirring people out of what I perceive as apathy or encouraging them to question a perspective. Yet I am beginning to look more closely at the place within me from which that impulse arises.

This morning, while listening to a program about the Templars, with whom I feel a deep spiritual connection, something became clearer.

In experiences I understand as memories of other lifetimes, I see myself speaking out against unjust authority, oppression, and inhumanity. In those memories, speaking carried a terrible price, sometimes involving betrayal by those I trusted.

For me, this connects with what is sometimes called the “witch wound”: the fear of persecution for being seen, speaking openly, or holding beliefs that others reject. The image reaches beyond witches to the pain of being punished for one’s voice or identity.

In this life, I have continued to protest, although more quietly. When I witness cruelty or persecution, it touches something deep within me.

Others may know this pain through experiences in their present lives. We do not need identical memories or beliefs to recognize the hurt of being silenced, or the courage it takes to speak.

I have long admired people such as Martin Luther King Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and so many others who stood against injustice. The question remains within me: If no one speaks or acts, how will anything change?

This morning, however, I felt reminded to consider the source of my own words and actions.

I felt called back to the path of Remembrance, alignment, and embodiment that I find in the teachings of Buddha and Yeshua: witnessing, allowing, and doing from a place of Being.

For me, this means allowing Presence to guide my response. It means recognizing when my protector is speaking through an old wound and gently making room for a deeper wisdom to be heard.

My protector is not wrong for wanting to prevent suffering. It has tried to keep me safe. But it does not have to carry the responsibility for awakening everyone or correcting every belief I encounter.

As I understand it, witnessing means being willing to see what is before me, including my own reactions. Allowing means respecting another person’s freedom to come to understanding in their own time. Neither requires me to approve of harm or abandon compassionate boundaries.

There can still be a clear no. There can still be words spoken, help offered, and action taken.

The invitation is to pause long enough to discern what is mine to do and what is driving me to do it.

When I am rooted in Presence, I understand the love and light of creation as a flame flowing through my Being. I hope that what I share may touch those who resonate with it and encourage them to recognize their own inner flame.

That recognition belongs to them. I cannot choose it on their behalf.

We can offer a perspective, ask a question, or live in a way that invites reflection. But another person’s remembrance must have room to arise through their own sovereignty.

And I, too, must remain willing to see where my understanding is incomplete.

As I wrote this morning, I began to understand more fully why I have felt drawn to step back from some of my posts about current events. I was noticing a distance between the peace I spoke of in my spiritual writing and the urgency behind some of my personal sharing.

The subject matter itself was not the whole issue. It was what was happening within me as I shared it. Was I offering something with clarity and care, or was I caught in the need to make someone else see?

I was reminded of a friend’s post about sharing different perspectives so that others could consider more than one side. A comment raised the question of contradiction. I did not read the entire exchange closely, and I cannot speak to what either person intended. Yet that word stayed with me and turned my attention inward.

Where was I asking others to live from their inner sovereignty while struggling to allow them that freedom myself?

Where was I speaking of Oneness while responding from an old place of hurt?

These questions were an invitation to bring my personality, my human feelings, and my Presence into a more loving relationship.

As I continued writing, the phrase “Physician, heal thyself” came to mind with a touch of gentle humor. I had begun with a topic to share and found myself being invited deeper into my own healing.

Perhaps this is only the beginning of what witnessing and allowing will teach me.

It is difficult to see inhumanity and remain steady. Sometimes love calls us to speak immediately or offer practical help. At other times, there is room to stop, breathe, enter the stillness, and listen before responding.

I am learning that I can care deeply without carrying every outcome. I can speak honestly while leaving room for another person’s understanding to unfold.

Words offered with love may still meet disagreement. An action guided by conscience may still be resisted. I cannot determine how others will receive me. I can take responsibility for the care, clarity, and intention I bring.

This is the practice before me now: to witness what is happening around me and within me, to allow space for understanding, and to let Presence guide what comes next.

I share this in the hope that it may offer companionship to someone experiencing the same inner turmoil. I am still learning how to live it, one response at a time.

Peace be with you.

Namaste.

Weaving the Chords of Presence

It always amazes me how clarity begins to emerge when I pay attention. Threads of what I have been hearing, feeling, and experiencing begin to weave together. When I remain open to possibilities, something arrives that helps me understand what I could not quite see before.

Yesterday, I shared a realization about my names. My spiritual names are meaningful parts of who I am, and I no longer wish to keep them in the shadows. Yet I also began to see that, in trying to protect the person who carries my birth name, I had kept a separation between my human identity and my spiritual expression. I was ready to allow them to belong together.

After I chose to write about this and began including my birth name in my writing, further understanding began to unfold. I could see how that separation had made it harder for me to feel fully grounded in the Presence I seek to embody. Embodiment is a process. Through the Digging Deeper and Gateways writings, I have been learning what it means to live the energies of Being in this human life.

My Protector had been trying to keep me safe. It told me that I did not need to share my name because keeping myself separate from the message would help people focus on the words. There is value in letting a message stand on its own. Yet, for me, that explanation had also become a place to hide. I could honor the message while acknowledging the person through whom it was being shared.

What I am coming to understand is that this particular life, this body, and this human identity belong within my spiritual expression. They are part of how I bring it into the world.

For some time, I have felt nudged toward becoming more visible. Writing and blogging are meaningful ways for me to serve, and I sense another possibility opening through video, through my voice, or through being physically present with others. I have been hesitant to take that step. Now I see that part of my preparation is becoming more comfortable being seen as the whole of who I am.

A few weeks ago, I felt guided to work with three energies at a time, allowing myself to understand and embody them. The first were courage, patience, and truth, with Peace as the foundation. Little did I know where they were leading.

Peace helps me find balance and harmony within myself. Patience reminds me that I do not need to rush to do everything at once. I can embrace what comes and allow room for divine timing. Truth invites me to acknowledge why I feel I am here: to embody my Presence and help others discover their own connection. Courage asks me to let that truth become visible in my life.

In my inner connection with Isis, I have felt a growing encouragement to explore sharing through voice and Presence. A spoken message carries cadence, warmth, pauses, and feeling. Sometimes we hear familiar words in a way that touches us differently, and something within us stirs. I feel drawn to explore what may open when I allow my voice to become part of my offering.

For this, I am learning to work lovingly with my Protector. It has a place in my life. I can appreciate its desire to keep me safe while inviting it to help me navigate unfamiliar territory with discernment and healthy boundaries. I can move at a pace I am ready for, supported by the love and light I experience through my Presence.

Even the story of the two brothers has become part of this unfolding. Its meaning for me reaches beyond sibling rivalry into the wounds we carry and the ways those wounds shape our relationships. As I wrote about the brothers, I began to recognize more of my own reluctance to be seen. I associate some of that fear with impressions I understand as past-life memories of persecution, including being burned at the stake as a Druid. Whatever another person’s understanding of such experiences may be, the fear I am meeting in myself deserves compassion.

I share this while I am still in the process. We will not all have the same experiences or feel called to the same service. Yet something in one person’s story may help another recognize what is unfolding within their own life. We do not have to finish the journey before we can share honestly about where we are.

Another thread appeared last night. During a body reading, a friend described what she called a “stagnation binding” around my solar plexus and sacral chakra areas. I received this as a spiritual interpretation of a sense of holding and survival, rather than a medical explanation for my physical concerns. It gave me another way to reflect on the difficulty I have been experiencing with focus, writing, and the changes unfolding within me.

She suggested placing my hand over that area and spending at least three minutes breathing gently while imagining light flowing into it, then moving into writing. The suggestion resonated with a grounding practice I had already felt drawn to: one hand on my heart, the other on my belly, imagining a flow from the Earth below and the light above, moving between the two in an infinity pattern. I had also received a similar image in my reflections on the two brothers, as a way of balancing the energies of two separate or seemingly opposing focus. To place one in front of my heart and one behind my heart and breath the light through the heart and around them in an infinity flow.

Please always feel free to share any thoughts or insights you might have or email them to me if you prefer at : oracleofdivinegrace@gmail.com

Coming Home to My Name

This morning I found myself contemplating something that, on the surface, seemed quite simple.

What name should I use for my writing?

Throughout my spiritual journey, I have received and worked with sacred names. Each has carried meaning for me and has helped me recognize another aspect of myself.

One of those names is Quinara, which I understand as Presence.

Another is Sha’Na’El’-Ka’Zira, a name connected to another depth of my spiritual remembering.

Mareya Shimayah Elohim is part of merging the Presence and Form.

These names have been meaningful companions upon my journey. They have helped me explore consciousness, identity, my connection with the Beings of Light, and what I understand as the greater nature of Being.

Yet this morning, as I opened in contemplation with the energy of Isis, another question arose:

What about Becky?

Becky Prante.

The ordinary human name I have carried through this lifetime.

And suddenly I understood something about embodiment that I had perhaps been making much more complicated than it needed to be.

Do Not Abandon the Woman Who Carried You Here

Becky is the woman who actually walked this path.

She lived the experiences.

She raised the questions.

She doubted.

She wondered.

She laughed and cried.

She went to work and handled the ordinary responsibilities of life while somewhere within her the mystic continued whispering.

She walked through forests and felt Merlin.

She entered inner temples and encountered Isis.

She experienced dreams, synchronicities, visions and moments she could not explain.

She followed the breadcrumbs.

She got lost sometimes.

She found the trail again.

And through all of it, she was Becky.

Why, then, would I arrive at the place of embodiment only to leave her standing outside the temple?

That realization touched me deeply.

But there was another realization waiting beneath it.

Why I Hid the Mystic

There was a time when it did not feel safe to let others see this part of me.

When I was younger and spoke about some of my experiences and perceptions, people did not always understand. Sometimes I was laughed at. Sometimes I was talked about as strange.

And so I learned something many of us learn in one form or another:

Hide the parts of yourself that other people might not accept.

The mystical part of me did not disappear.

She simply moved into the shadows.

I continued living my ordinary life while protecting experiences that were deeply meaningful to me from the judgment of those who might ridicule or misunderstand them.

Looking back now, I can see another dimension to the sacred names that eventually came into my life.

They gave the mystic somewhere to live.

As names appeared that connected me more deeply with the Beings of Light and with my own Presence, I felt freer to explore those relationships.

Quinara could enter places Becky had learned to approach cautiously.

Sha’Na’El’-Ka’Zira could speak a language the everyday Becky had once been afraid to speak aloud.

Those names helped strengthen my connection with the sacred while, in a very human way, keeping Becky safe.

I honor them for that.

I honor the woman who found a way to continue exploring the mystery without exposing a tender part of herself before she was ready.

But something has changed.

I No Longer Need to Hide

This may be one of the most important realizations of my journey into embodiment:

I no longer need to hide who I am.

You may understand my experiences.

You may not.

You may find resonance in the way I perceive life, consciousness and the unseen.

You may think I am strange.

And, finally, I can say:

That is okay.

If you think I am weird, then perhaps that is simply who I am within your perception of me.

It does not change who I am.

If you love what I share, wonderful.

If you don’t, that is okay too.

Neither response determines my truth or my worth.

I do not need another person’s acceptance in order to give myself permission to exist openly.

And I do not need to convince anyone that my experiences mean what they mean to me.

That is freedom.

The Temple Does Not Require Me to Leave My Human Name at the Door

For much of our spiritual journey, we may look toward something greater than ourselves.

Our Higher Self.

Our Presence.

The Divine Feminine or Divine Masculine.

Angels, masters, guides or whatever language speaks to our own understanding of the sacred.

We reach upward.

We expand.

We remember.

But perhaps eventually the journey changes direction.

Instead of continually reaching toward the Divine, we begin allowing what we have discovered to live through the human being who is already here.

Perhaps that is embodiment.

Can Becky enter the temple?

Can Becky hold the staff?

Can Becky walk with Merlin through the forest?

Can Becky sit with Isis?

Can Becky dance and laugh with St. Germain?

Can Becky experience the extraordinary while remaining completely, wonderfully human?

Yes.

And perhaps the greater question for me has become:

Can Becky tell you about it without first wondering what you will think of her?

Yes.

That may be one of the Gateways I have finally walked through.

The Mystic Does Not Need to Replace the Woman

Recently I realized that something had gone missing from my writing.

Magic.

In trying to make my work clear and understandable to a wider audience, I had gradually polished away some of the very thing that made it mine.

The mystic disappeared.

The storyteller became a teacher.

The wonder became explanation.

And eventually I stopped wanting to write.

Now I understand why.

In trying to make my writing acceptable, I had unknowingly begun hiding again.

It was the old protection wearing new clothes.

Once I hid the mystical because I feared being laughed at.

Later I softened it because I wanted my writing to be acceptable to more people.

Different circumstances.

Same hiding.

And I am finished hiding.

I don’t need to choose between Becky and Quinara.

I don’t need to choose between the ordinary woman and the mystic.

I don’t need to make the mystical ordinary enough to be acceptable, nor make the human being extraordinary enough to appear spiritual.

They belong together.

Quinara can be part of Becky’s story.

Sha’Na’El’-Ka’Zira can be part of Becky’s story.

Merlin, Isis, St. Germain, the temples, the forests, the dreams, the laughter, the questions and the mysteries can all be part of Becky’s story.

And I don’t have to tell another person what any of those experiences must mean to them.

I can simply say:

This is what happened to me.

This is what I experienced.

This is what it caused me to see.

Then you are free to discover what, if anything, it awakens within you.

Perhaps This Is the Bridge

I recently saw the book I am writing in a new way.

I had originally thought of it as something like a guidebook for a national park—a guide through the Gateways of consciousness, embodiment and sovereignty.

Then the image changed.

I saw myself walking the trail with others.

We climbed a mountain along switchbacks.

Sometimes we stopped at beautiful overlooks.

Sometimes we sat at a switchback and reflected upon how far we had traveled.

And at night we gathered around a fire and told stories.

That is when I understood.

I don’t want to stand at the bottom of the mountain handing people a map.

I want to walk with them.

I want to say:

Come with me.

There is something beautiful around this bend.

There is a story I want to tell you beside the fire tonight.

I will tell you about the forests.

I will tell you about the temples.

I will tell you about Merlin and Isis and St. Germain.

I will tell you about the inexplicable moments and the very ordinary ones.

I will tell you when I stumbled.

I will tell you when I laughed.

I will tell you when I wasn’t sure what any of it meant.

And perhaps somewhere within my story, you will remember one of your own.

You do not have to believe my story in the same way I understand it in order to sit beside the fire with me.

You are free to listen through the language of your own heart.

Coming Home

So I think I know the name that will appear on my writing.

Becky Prante.

Not because the sacred names have become less meaningful.

Quite the opposite.

They helped me bring something precious out of hiding.

They gave me room to discover it, strengthen it and learn to trust it.

And now perhaps their work has brought me full circle.

I no longer need them to separate the mystical part of myself from the woman living this human life.

The mystic does not have to replace Becky.

She can come home to Becky.

And Becky does not need to hide her anymore.

Perhaps this is one of the simplest understandings of embodiment I have encountered:

We do not become Divine by leaving our humanity behind.

We allow what we understand as Divine to move through the human form already here.

We bring the hidden pieces home.

We stop dividing ourselves according to what the world might accept.

The feet remain upon the Earth.

The heart remains open to the mystery.

And the storyteller walks between them.

My name is Becky Prante.

Some of you may think I am a little strange.

That’s okay.

Some of you may recognize something of yourselves in my stories.

Welcome. Come sit beside me.

I have walked some very interesting trails.

And I am no longer afraid to tell you the stories.

You see the journey never ends, it simply continues to unfold. 

These are my stories.

This is my magic. 

This is me.

Come let us continue to walk together if you wish. 

There are many stories yet to be shared around the fire of our Being.

Just listen with the through the language of your heart.

For me I no longer need to separate the mystical me and the woman who lived the life.

For as in this we become One,

I Am Becky Prante

Diana, the Queen of Hearts

I felt drawn to write this yesterday, though at first I was not quite sure why. Then I realized it was the timing.

I had been thinking about the return of Prince Harry, Meghan, and their children to England with hope and love, holding the blessing of reunion with his father in my heart. At first, I had not connected this with the date.

It was August 31, 1997, when Princess Diana passed, leaving two young men to grieve the loss of their mother, the constant love and security in their lives. While the world mourned the loss of the Queen of Hearts, our hearts also went out to her sons. You could see their pain, especially in young Harry.

I think perhaps my writing of The Tale of Two Brothers also has its place in this timing. Until today, I had not fully realized that the timing of Harry’s return falls so near the anniversary of Diana’s passing. I do not believe in mere coincidence. Even when we are doing something and do not yet understand the reason, our souls can be prompting us. This doesn’t mean I know that Harry consciously chose this timing knowing this, but that perhaps he was simply inspired or called from within to heal.

It has been 29 years, and 2 + 9 becomes 11, a master number. To me, this speaks of spiritual inspiration, personal transformation, growth, and becoming a beacon for others. It feels like a master step in one’s life. I see within this timing an inspiration to help others release old pain and heal family wounds.

I feel Diana’s love for her boys, and even from the spirit realms, I sense her desire to see them reconcile their differences. These are two young men who loved one another deeply, and somewhere within, still do. Yet they must find their way through the pain. More important at this time, perhaps, is the reconciliation of a man with his father, who is ill.

I feel Diana would be at peace with them accepting and moving beyond the pain she experienced with King Charles and Camilla. The past is the past, and forgiveness is not about approving what happened. It is about releasing what we carry within ourselves so that peace may return.

The story was a tragedy that still asks to be healed. Yet in the midst of that story, two young men were born whom the world has watched grow, stumble, choose, and become.

One was destined to be a future king and was raised, as his father had been, within the structure, duty, and expectations of the Crown. The other had to search for his own role in life. These two different paths shaped how they saw the world, how they developed, and how they responded to life. I will not speak of what has already been written and discussed so many times.

Let us simply say that each, by following his own path, has created the life he felt he needed. In many families, the same thing happens. Different paths create different wounds, and then there comes a time when those wounds have the opportunity to be released and healed. If they are not, they can continue through the family line, carried from generation to generation.

It is good to see even the beginning of a reunion: the King, his wife, Harry, Meghan, and their children taking steps toward healing. It would be beautiful to see that healing continue. Yet even these baby steps feel meaningful.

I sense Diana smiling, for all she ever wanted was for her sons to be loved, happy, and safe.

A TALE OF TWO BROTHERS

I wanted to share a little about my current project. It first came forward some time ago, and although I have mentioned it before, I am now taking a deeper dive as I write.

Originally, I thought it would be a regular blog post. I had touched upon working with these energies in an earlier writing, but as I began exploring the subject, the post grew into a booklet—far too long for a blog. Now, as I continue, even more seems to want to come forward, and it may become a book.

I felt that this needed to be written before the Gateway book. At first, I was not sure why. Perhaps it was meant to help me hone my writing skills. Yet as I began preparing this blog, I came to understand something more: for me, this book is also the healing of a wound. I feel it may help others heal wounds of their own—wounds from this lifetime, other timelines, and perhaps even those carried through the ancestral line.

I realize the project could just as easily be called A Tale of Two Sisters, or perhaps A Family Tale of Sibling Rivalry.

In many families, rivalry or competition emerges between siblings and asks to be healed. When we heal the pattern within ourselves, we free ourselves from continuing to carry it. We may also change how the pattern lives within our relationships and what is passed forward to future generations. Sometimes the roots run deep, weaving their way through a family for generations.

The Christian Bible contains passages referring to the effects of wrongdoing reaching into the third and fourth generations. As I reflected upon this, I heard within: Think of the chakras. The first three chakras relate to survival, creation, and personal power. The fourth is the heart—the place where transformation begins. From there, we learn to speak anew, to see and hear anew, and to free ourselves from old limitations.

I sense there are more correlations of this kind waiting to be revealed as I dig deeper.

I look forward to what will unfold. I feel there may be something within this tale that can help humanity, as a whole, become free to move into a New World of Unity, Peace, and Grace.

I AM Mareya Shimayah Elohim

Reflection on My Path

I was thinking that perhaps I did not have anything left to share with others, and that maybe it was time to take a break from blogging.

I know my blogging has already been irregular, but life itself is irregular. It moves, shifts, pauses, and begins again.

Then, as I sat quietly, I was shown something.

My blogging began several years ago as a simple sharing of my thoughts and what I was learning as I sought and explored spiritual truth. I was not trying to teach or convince others of my truth. I was simply sharing what I was discovering, in case it mattered or helped another along their own path.

As I explored and shared, my path began to shift.

It moved from seeking wisdom and truth in books, or from sources outside of myself, into Remembering. What I learned inspired me, but it also began to open the doorway to inner truth.

In that remembering, the Spiral of Return emerged, and the Higher Heart to Oneness opened.

As I began to step upon the stairs of the spiral, it carried me to the bridges. For me, the bridges were the energies of Being, the living links between the physical and the spiritual. As I began to cross these bridges one at a time, each one eventually led to a gateway.

Each gateway was an opening into the spiritual nature of these energies of Being. It called me to align them more fully by releasing what had kept them limited within the physical realm. Once I passed through a gateway, I was then called to dig deeper.

To dig deeper meant learning to live these truths as more than concepts. It meant allowing them to become part of my daily life, aligned and guided in Oneness with the Presence of my Being. This is the space I am currently within, and it is what I have been sharing.

I needed this moment of reflection to see how the path has spiraled.

When I first stepped upon the Metatronic Spiral of Return, I was shown that within the spiral were the Petals of the Oversoul.

What I am now experiencing within the Deeper Dive are those Petals of the Oversoul: the deeper embodiment and experience of the Essences of Creation and Beingness.

The names are not different from when the journey began: truth, peace, love, compassion, wisdom. Yet my understanding and experience of them have changed and deepened. No longer do the values and expectations of society guide or determine my choices and actions. Instead, I am learning to be guided by the deeper freedom of Unity.

So, will I stop blogging?

Probably not. However, as my life shifts and new inspiration appears, my sharing may continue to be irregular.

I want to thank those who have been with me this far on the journey. I hope that what I share may help another in their own experience. I try to be truthful about what I experience and understand, while also recognizing that truth and understanding change and evolve as we clear, grow, and embody more of who we are.

So, if you look back at my beginning posts and compare them to where I am now, you may see vast differences. Yet it is in the willingness to let go of being locked into one particular truth or path that we allow the flow to guide us toward the highest possible expression for us.

Thank you for reading.

I AM Mareya Shimayah Elohim

WHO AM I?

I am your sister in the family of Oneness.

I am a spark of Creation.

I have carried many names through what I experience as many timelines and many expressions of Being.

I have suffered.

And I have known Peace and Joy beyond the limitations of ordinary perspective.

I have fought in wars…

and I have walked for Peace.

I have known loneliness, abandonment, and sorrow.

I have also belonged to families who worked together…

laughed together…

and sang with joy.

I have created.

I have destroyed.

I have stumbled.

I have risen.

And through every experience, I have learned.

Wisdom has grown from the living of it all.

For much of my life, I followed paths that systems and others told me were proper.

I honor those paths.

They, too, taught me.

But now…

I walk in Truth and sovereign authority.

I honor and recognize the teachers and Beings of Light whom I experience as having walked before me.

I am grateful for every hand that seemed to reach toward me when I stumbled…

every lantern that illuminated enough of the path for me to take another step…

every presence that reminded me I was not walking alone.

But I no longer wait for another to tell me who I AM.

I AM HERE.

I walk in Peace.

I walk steadily.

I no longer need to race toward embodiment as though there were somewhere else I must arrive.

One step.

Then another.

I belong.

I am welcomed.

Like the prodigal daughter returning home, I finally allow myself to take my place at the banquet table.

I am enough.

I do not need to be perfect.

I need only remain present…

steady…

and true.

I have always been enough.

Now I remember.

There is all the time in Infinite Creation…

and not another moment needs to be surrendered to regret, guilt, or anything that keeps me from the freedom of Being.

And perhaps, dear traveler, if you have been walking beside me for a while, there is something I would ask you to remember as well.

You are loved.

Not when you become perfect.

Not when you finally get everything right.

Now.

You are loved.

You are enough.

Whatever your spiritual language, whatever path has brought you here, perhaps those you regard as teachers, guides, or sacred companions are not standing at the end of the road asking you to prove yourself worthy.

Perhaps they are holding lanterns.

Perhaps they are illuminating the path just enough for you to recognize something that has been true all along.

You already belong.

The light may show you the way…

but the steps are yours.

And perhaps coming home is not about finally reaching some distant place.

Perhaps it is the moment you stop standing outside…

and remember:

I AM HERE.

— Mareya Shimayah Elohim