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On the Deserts of Our Own Making

Dear Listener and Reader;

Today I share a deep and lengthy transmission which feels important in this moment. It is part two of a four part series received in summer of 2020, on Q-Anon and pedophilia. As always, the transmissions look to the root, to the underlying expressions of polarization which lead to suffering.

Rain Dance will be part of an upcoming book of transmissions on these days of the Earth Changes.

Publishing a collection of these writings is a vision I have held for many years. Please let me know, dear reader, if you would like to be on my list to be notified of this release.

Susanna and the Elders, by Artemisia Gentileschi


Do not be afraid to dream
even in your pain
for dreaming is now
more valuable than ever before
yet as you dream
make it yours
dream what you choose
not what you fear

you think you know your fear
but you do not
You think you know what it means
to be spiritual
but you do not
You think you know how
to serve
but you do not
and so these
are the lessons
of these times

It has been said
that the one antidote to fear 
is Trust
and it is
but to understand the trust
that is asked of us
we must first understand
the layers of our fear

If we are to know
how to call in the rain
we must first walk the desert
through thirst
through the illusion of mirage
through the shifting sands
and disconnection from the rich earth
Only when we tell the truth
about the desert
may we know rain

Wherever love is missing
fear will quickly come
to take its place
and these are the days
of the Desert of Love
Deserts are not made overnight
they are gradually formed
over many years
as life falls away
as the rains do not come
and the trees die one by one
and rivers dry up
nowhere to run
the soil loses its capacity
to fuel birth
and the stone breaks down into sand
beneath our feet
reflecting the heat by day
and the empty cold by night
all measured
by the whims of the wind 
and the sun

We live today
in a desert of love
so we may waken
to the divinity of rain

Where did our love go you ask?
Is it not the stuff
from which we are made?
Indeed it is
and yet within this realm
of breath and all such polarities
we must surrender to this exchange
the natural journey
of birth to death
but in our fear
we ran from this truth
until every action
became a way to separate us
from the beauty 
of our return to God

The great ages
of the birth of ownership 
and industry
the birth of technology
the birth of institutions 
and political
justice systems
each one in search of something
each one promising to take us 
further and further
from death
for if only we could control
measure and own
all of life
perhaps it would be ours
to stay

This too is our choice
This too
is the making of our dreams

And with each of these ages
we withdrew further and further
from our sense of connection
to Mother
We made our buildings taller
our paved roads longer
our feet forgot how to be naked
our hearts could not remember
the touch of the trees
and so the deserts came
wider and wider
until there was nothing left to inhale
but the exhalation of the one
standing next to us
and without our remembering
of the beauty 
of the coloured leaf
ready to fall
to rot
to give her essence back
to the Mother
in this desert
of disconnection from Infinite Love
our fear began to unfold
in new forms
more vast and yet more secretive
than ever before

To understand this
consider primitive man
and the purity of his fear
He fears the animal he hunts
the Beast
the buffalo
the bear
the stag
but in his fear
he also honours them
he respects their power and value
for they are his food
his clothing
his very life
They are his Gods
This fear makes him fierce
it gives him strength and wisdom
it teaches him about his place
within the devouring circle 
of the material world

This is so of all his fears
so he may live in purpose 
and resolution
His very fears guide him
to his desires
his reason for being
and his greatest joys

But now
caught in our separation
from the natural world
from the Mother 
in her grace and wisdom
immersed in our driven distraction
our need to own
to build
to possess 
fear has lost its purpose
and we can no longer 
access its gifts
Instead of our fuel
it has become our enemy
our shame
and so we deny it
we drug it
we try to buy our way out of it
even as it grows larger
ever larger
we forget to honour its name
Photo by Alec Krum on Unsplash
The desert grows
as the love we once found
every day in the arms of the Mother
dries up
in our separation from her
and in its place 
into the desert
comes the fear
roaming like packs of hyenas
drifting in clouds of entities
the forms of fear taking shape
the ghosts of all we have denied
during the day
infiltrating our world
by night

This too is our choice
This too
is the making of our dreams

And so as the daily life of so many
becomes a desert
a desert of meaningless employment
and numbing devices
and imitation foods
and spiritual pretence
we may lose even the memory of rain
until this constant 
low-grade empty fear
becomes our constant state
at times escalating to depression
or even the terrors
of psychosis
but rarely if ever
returning to the knowing of Trust
of true belief
in the garden of the Mother
so far have we travelled
from her arms

This too is our choice
This is the ready climate
for the Dance 
of Rain

And here we come to the question
of Spirit
of the presence of Divinity
in our hearts
in our world

For of course
the larger truth is that love
has never left us
can never leave us
for it is the stuff
out of which 
even darkness
is made

But in our disconnection
so too do we become separate
from genuine perception
because our fear is now everywhere
there is no antidote for so many
no daily connection 
with other forms of life
no words to be heard
from the trees
no caresses 
from the fish in the seas
no scent of the skin 
of the newborn calf
no hawk overhead
no mud between the toes
no circles of women gathered
for a birth
no families of men
digging the soil for a grave
because of this separation
from the permission
for the honouring of our joys 
and our fears
we know neither
and instead live 
in a low-grade hum
a purgatory
between dimensions
neither fully upon the earth
nor fully dead
we consume
we distract
we go mad instead

This too remains our choice
This too the makings of our now
necessary dreams

In this state of confused perception
we cannot define nor recognize
what is fear
and what is righteous
we cannot discern 
what is godly
and what is human arrogance
and so even our search
for Spirit
for the Light
becomes confused
and if this has been our world
so too 
must it crumble

And here we must pause
to examine all that we have named
as “spiritual”
and understand more deeply
the confusions which abound

Let us begin with clarifying
that we are all
in our very nature
“spiritual” beings

We are beings of Spirit
aspects of Spirit
having chosen
incarnation in physical form
and so it is not possible
for us to be anything other
than spiritual 

The soul must claim
the body
and in this there is no living form
which is not imbued
with its own expression
of the Divine

As such we cannot study
we can only remember it
We cannot attempt to achieve
that which is our essential nature
we may only acknowledge it
We cannot stray from
spiritual behaviours
as all actions
have their place in the larger view
of this Divine expression
but in so understanding
we are asked to relinquish
all judgement of our attempts
to return to ourselves

We are asked to see
that the further we seem to travel
from wholeness
the more ready we are
to return to that
which is the Source of Love

Here is where so much
of our confusion lies
For throughout the history
of humankind
we have been afraid
of our own forgetting
we have created shame
to fill the space
where our remembering was lost
and so we created religion
the systems of belief
which gave us lists of
rules and behaviours
to govern all that we have forgotten
and thus the permission
for punishment
when these rules were not followed
the meting out of pain and suffering
in direct proportion
to the judgement 
we felt was necessary
for surely if we have lost Goddess
surely if we cannot remember God
we are the ones at fault
so says 
the wounded child
in our heart

And so the rules
and their associated punishments
became the definition
of godliness
of divine expression
of our “spiritual” natures
and even when some said
I no longer follow the rules
of the churches and the mosques
they simply replaced them
with their own rules
and so a new age
of spirituality
was born

Inherent within this new age
was the idea of rebellion
as holy
and the belief
that by rejecting the tenets
of institutionalized thought
all light was found
and so the shadow itself
became the new demon
so great was the fear
of suppression and control

Freedom became
the new benediction
as the self of the personality
became confused
with the universal self of the Divine
and so a false freedom reigned
and with it
a contagion of a new 
and Insidious fear
the denial of fear itself
So great was the 
unconscious judgement
no judgments could be seen
no deep truth could be expressed
and so the very souls
who in their hearts
held the most unconscious fear
became the ones
who espoused the loudest command
to stand in the light 
in my fear
of what I cannot see
I will tell you all
that you are blind
in my own sleeping consciousness
I will tell you all
to wake up

within our present moment world 
of disconnection
we can understand
how layers and forms and aspects
of fear
will begin to fill the desert

There will be those who will say
I see the Beast but I give it
no honour
and I will attempt to prove
myself fearless
by killing it on sight
there will be no Beast
in my world
I will destroy
what I fear
I am

There will be those who will say
I see the Beast
as it lives in others
those unholy ones
and we will create systems
and laws and prisons
and we will contain the Beast
and eat the Beast
and this is rational and reasonable
and fear is for
the weak and emotional
and I am not
one of those

There will be those who will say
I see the Beast
as it lives in others
but I am the righteous one
I am the one who has been hurt
by the Beast
and so I demand
for my pain to be seen
as righteousness
and I will kill the Beast
with my words as a way
of coping
with my precious fear

There will be those who will say
I see the Beast 
for the first time
and so great is my terror
it will become the nightmare
from which I ask to be saved
and any imagining
I have ever had
any story told by my fear
to this I now give life
because the one who dares
to rebel is my saviour
the one who will
kill the Beast for me
is the one I will choose to believe
for the horror of this bad dream 
is more than I can bear
and I give away my reason
so I will not be forced
to feel my fear

And this response
the willingness to give away reason
is the virus of our times
for it seeks to make real
what is pure illusion
pure mirage
upon the sand dunes
of our growing
massive desert

And this too is our choice
this too is a perfect example
of our choice to dream

Can you for a moment
close your eyes
and allow your imagining
to paint this scene? 

The many, many
living in the lands of disconnection
no soil
no skin of the Mother beneath them
to bring softening and comfort
no actual presence
of birth or death
in their lives
no touch of the living Beast
beneath their hands
no connection to
the living expressions
of all the life-forms
that have been denied
and yet
and yet
still they are aspects of Spirit
and so still they create
still they dream 
still they seek
But all from a place
of unaware disconnection
and unconscious fear
each one creating a world
like a rain cloud overhead
just waiting
for a chance to dance
a chance to rain
upon the desert of love
in which they have lived
for so long
Can you see them?
Can you see them all 
wandering the desert blindly
crashing into one another
running apart from one another
clouds above them of every size and colour?

Can you see them?
can you see the ones
that simply lie down
no longer able to run
they lie on street corners
in hospital corridors
they lie on their couches
and they watch the news
unable to move
unable to remember who they are
unable to turn away from
the collective illusions
they have helped create
by dreaming it all together
the blue clouds
the black clouds
the red clouds
the clouds that smother whole cities
the clouds that roll 
in unbidden
gathering force
the clouds that form
layer upon layer
over top one another
choking the lungs
smothering the light
oh so long we have been waiting
for the true freedom
to rain? 

Can you see this vision
of a hundred thousand
unique realities
Can you see your own cloud?
Can you imagine your own rain?
This too is our choice
this too is the making of our dreams

There is a principal at play here
which begs to be grasped
which we will speak of
as cleansing and release
In any dimension of polarities
life is and must be
sustained through movement
for without inhalation and exhalation
physical form will cease

The cold must be met by warmth
sweet must respond to the sour
death must take place
to make ready for birth
and hate
and rage
and cruelty
and unfairness
and all the losses of faith and hope
which accompany these polarities
must exist
so that affection
and delight
and kindness
and compassion
all may be born
in the consciousness of your dreams

And too
there must come movement
between the two extremes
for the experience of them
to be tasted
This is flow

And so when a great denial
a great forgetting of Who We Are
has been lived
for hundreds and hundreds of years
when a great separation
from the Mother 
has been magnified
to the breaking point
of our times
there must come a moment
a critical mass
a tipping point
of the polarity to consciousness
and this must lead to
the cleansing
the release
of all that has been held back
in the tight reins
of our refusal to see

In these days
of immanent release
before the letting go
the heaviness of our clouds 
may seem unbearable
It is the moment
of transition
the heavy, heavy
before an impending storm
but then
once the rain begins
the release of all that has been held
becomes so glorious
the sensations of liberation
truth and forgiveness
so profound
the remembering of the rain
so exquisite
it will all make sense
and the act of remembering
all that was once forgotten
will come home to the arms
of the Mother
to land

Here she will hold us
here she will remind us
of all the love we truly are

In the description
of this world of illusions
we ask you to consider
our impending release
how every step of the way
was an act of choice
how for each soul
their own chosen desert
their own size and shape
and their own relationship
to their own Beast
has become their own reality

And this is no small thing
for the more deeply we are carried
by the unconscious
the more freely
our realities will be created
by the forces we decline
to see

Know this:
We are never
not creating

We are never
not forging what is real to us
Even though we may only
be beginning to learn
that this miracle is taking place
every moment
of everyday
awake or asleep
it matters not
we exist
therefore we create
we hold life force
therefore we move
we move
therefore we exist
and creation is born
over and over

And its immortal nature
the expression of our life
never ends
but rather changes form
as we allow
as we create
as we dream

And so the command of our times
is to bring our Act of Creation
into conscious awareness
into the witnessing
of present moment choice
the greatest act of love
the greatest remembering of love
in our willingness to see
that we may choose love
and in this 
forge an intentional reality
an action which is
in its very nature
an experience of reunion
however we name
our Creator

Choice is
our return to Heaven
Choice is
the recollection of our home
as the source of all
Choice is
inevitably and always
the rains
upon the deserts
of our missing love 
it is a return
to God

And until this day
the world we forge
will seem to us
like being in a store
where televisions are sold
and every television is turned on
to a different channel
and every channel
is playing a different show
and every show is trying
to be louder than the others
and many
make no sense
at all

Forgive the clouds
before they break
this will help them soften
and The Rains of Love
to fall

much love,

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