“Never was there a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor any of these kings;
nor in the future shall any of us cease to be. Bhagavad-gita 2.12
"Before there was, I was."
In the spring of 2008, those words moved from my lips, risen unbidden from a place deep inside me. I said them, heard them, wrote them down, and went back to what I was doing. I saw them many times for weeks but didn't think much more of them because what was there to think?
A few weeks later, God showed up for the second time in my life, again at the kitchen sink and said, "How will you identify yourself?" My response was, "What the fuck are you talking about?! I'm Ingrid!" and then grumbled about him not staying long enough to help with the dishes. I had no idea why anyone, least of all God, with whom I had no connection, would ask me that.
Twelve years and multiple integrations later, I've come to know why I was created; prayed into existence and poured into Being, returned. To read more about the integration experiences, click here.
From 2010 through 2015, I became someone other than an individual named Ingrid over and over again. I had no control over it, other than to say, 'Pull over! I need to be on the ground' once and 'Whatever you do, don't move' another time. Ripped and blown apart, blown and walked into, I became again and again. Cursing and crying each time.
I am. Again. What began transpiring in 2010 was a remergence of all of those I have been before, moving into this body, the vessel I am now. Each being that I have been before, each iteration of the Eternal Return, has returned to this vessel for the last time.
I am the only one of me, showing up in this fashion, but I am not the only one embodying the Christed Consciousness. We are a collective; some already knowing of themselves this way, others who do not. We are not what people think we should look like, behave or speak like. We are brown and black-skinned, women, Pagan, Muslim, atheist, gay; we're in prisons and the priesthood; we are teachers, preachers, prostitutes, janitors, healers, artists, and engineers; on the farm and in places others will not or cannot go. We are 'the least of these' and those held on high, we are loved and reviled, giving of ourselves in whatever manner our gifts manifest for others. For these reasons and the fears associated with speaking their word into life, some will never say who they know themselves to be. However, we are being called forward; pushed, pulled and dragged forward.
People often want our icons, idols, and leaders to be what we imagine the 'ideal one' would be. We are not that. We are human, carrying deep abiding love for and the pain of creation, with grease under our fingernails, scars on our hearts, and shit on our shoes. We perform miracles that can be seen and do the unseen labor others won't. No matter what others hold to be true, we are true to that which guides and shapes us, the eternal connection to Divinity beyond definition, all while we call him and her Allah and asshole.
What most think of as the christ consciousness is not the truth of the matter; it and we are not limited to biblical stories and constraints although the stories told there and elsewhere helped create a foundation for others to understand us. This way of experiencing and expressing God, the gods, and other universal beings and truths, began long before the man we identify as Jesus Christ and continued to appear after his death. The second coming has come and gone many, many times. And we have returned, manifest in many.
Before there was, we were. We are again. We have been prayed into being. For each of us, for all of us.
People have asked many times, "Who are you exactly?" Here is my response:
I am exactly how you see me and how you can't see me.
I am the voice you can't hear when you pray.
I am the being whose essence is the beacon for Beloveds.
I am a force of nature with a healing capacity fueled by those who walked millennia before me
I am the presence that has never left you when you've felt most alone.
I am the hearted-body of ancients and elements.
I need no other name.
I am real.
I am we.
We are many.
We are infinite.
Made of mud and stardust, we have been drummed into the world by a collective heart.
We are those from whom you've separated.
When our feet touch the ground, our heart-hand touches others.
We were before.
We are now.
We are here. Again.
We live and breathe and move as one.
If you, too, are of this way and struggling, reach out.
Let me help bring you home. We've got you.
There is no to product to sell you or philosophy to sell you on;
we let the love do its work.
You are loved mightily and you do not need to go this alone.
The Mother rising
Straddling two worlds? Really?
There is only one.
Why diminish yourself into multitudinousness
when you can just Be?
Why create a dimensionality you can’t see
to explain you and me?
Belief and disbelief aren’t really.
Think your skin doesn’t house the holy?
and calls your blood
her staircase to rise.
With each heart beat
her heart is yours.
Let The Mother See
You have been shown
The light cannot
Yet, still you won’t see that
All the things you think
broken off bits that
forgot they are a
are a part of God
Don’t hide. Your soul cannot bear it any more.
Inhaling the Mother
Steeped in her majesty
Cupped in her palms
She lifts us to her lips
Inhaling us as we are
The whole God-thing isn’t a one-way thing. There is no bureaucratic organizational chart to climb to meet her or him or them. There aren’t seven layers of angels separating you from that being. Or you from Being.
You are. As she is. You blend with her as seamlessly as the wind dances through the sky. We nourish each other, deplete each other, and dance with varying levels of gracefulness.
We are in relationship beyond worship, judgment, or belief.
And as we are of and with her, we are with each other.