Archive for September, 2011

ASSUMING THE CONTRACT WAS SEALED IN A SPIRITUAL PROMISE

Assuming Kenny and I agreed to work out our life lessons as husband and wife before we incarnated this lifetime—and I do. Assume his two previous marriages and my two previous marriages fulfilled the exact parts of these life lessons in the perfect way they were supposed to—and I do. Assume we promised each other we would “go into the heart of God together,” and we did. Promise that is. Go into the Heart of God together?  That’s what this writing is all about.

I’ve talked about the deepest love either of has ever known from a mate—the underlying glue that held us together on the highest levels. I’ve also talked about the miasm* we were enmeshed in, the karmic flow or in more descriptive terms, the energetic tableau.  But I’m getting a deeper glimpse these last few days. Knowing we always do the best we can with who we are and what resources we have at the time, this is not about looking back with blame or regret. This is about looking into the consciousness for a deeper cut—a view from the unconditional love of the Soul—a place of forgiveness and compassion.

With that said, I invite you to embrace the rest of this story from the same place.

Early in the marriage there were signs of “sandpapering,” a kind term for conflict. Differences in how we functioned in the world as individuals. Some minor differences we were able to work with, but the essential, deep-seated, maybe even ancient patterns that one would consider weaknesses or character defects or more accurately blocks to spiritual awareness, were set in reactivity to each other. It was a perfect match. He was allowed to continue his unconscious avoidance of relating to me as his partner in such a way that allowed my unconscious avoidance to blind me to that which would unveil my next steps in my own spiritual growth. Oh we worked on “issues,” we came to some agreements, we at least rose above the “you must-squeeze-the-toothpaste-tube-the-way-I-want-you-to” kinds of sandpapering.

But for those many years, fifteen to be exact, in secret he went his way and I avoided mine. I was so busy “handling” his much more obvious challenges, I couldn’t see mine. Oh I’d have glimpses (which probably scared the pants off me) and then I’d brush them aside. Sometimes I’d be completely resigned that our life together on these levels would never change, and I’d better just be happy with what we did have, not realizing, not having a clue that if I would just change one thing about me, that would affect us dramatically.

So fear ran my relationship with Kenny—if I came to my senses I would have to leave. Or surely he would leave me. Rather than risk that kind of change, I remained mired in my own participation in the miasm we had slipped into so silently.

Remember all this is seated in the traumatized nervous system.* There was no escape. Patterns were set in frozen nerve pathways. Reactions were predictable and limited to those resulting in fighting or fleeing.  As a result there were many opportunities in those glimpses to precipitate change that were ignored.  Because the gentler approach was not recognized or heeded many times over, God now set about preparing us for the most impactful experience of our lives. And this, from my view, was the purpose for the diagnosis of incurable, highly advanced, inoperable melanoma cancer—a three-to-six-month death sentence. If we, as a committed unit didn’t get it now, there would not be another chance.

In a flash, we were hurtled into action, as I’ve said before. Apologies for past indiscretions and hurts flew back and forth. We came into the oneness of Spirit, of seeing the path we were to take clearly and unmistakably. You could say the fear of death awakened us into positive action, leaving behind everything no longer in alignment with the goal—Kenny getting well again and loving ourselves and each other so completely that nothing else mattered. It was a beautiful experience of clarity of purpose. I’ve written about this so many times within this blog. Have a look.

What strikes me now is that God so loved us, his children that he made us in Jesus’ likeness, that he would even snuff out the physical life of one of us in order to have us learn what we agreed to embrace before incarnating into these bodies. And here I sit, in complete and utter awe that this consciousness, this nervous system, held the old pattern of gripping so tightly that my darling husband would have to die, not just take a break, or leave my side, but forever die to this world for the last time in order for us both to take our next steps in realizing who we are. He would take those steps in the next world. I am left to take them here.

And I’m guessing he would say the same thing. “My consciousness, my nervous system, held on so dearly to my patterns, I would have to leave this world to meld with the Divine.” And the process of leaving, from my vantage point, was what set him apart from all past actions, all patterns, all miasms. In a blaze of glory, he left this world knowing who he was, who God is, and where he was going. We could not, in our wildest dreams, ask for a more graceful and tender goodbye.

Tears well up as I now look upon this story, this era of my life, with the compassion and loving that bring forth understanding and peace. The Spiritual Promise was fulfilled and in our heart of hearts, we knew it would be. I stood by him as he ascended into the Heart of God, and I know he will be one of those ushering me on the same path when it’s my time to go. It is with profound gratitude to my Kenny for sacrificing his life so that I may grow closer to God and closer to knowing I am one with God, closer to realizing my Self that I write this and share it with you.

God bless us all.

I invite you to comment either by clicking on the box below or emailing me directly at carol.jones43@yahoo.com. Feel free to share this blog with anyone.


* From the Greek miasma |mīˈazmə; mē-|

noun ( pl. -mas or -mata |-mətə|) poetic/literary

• figurative an oppressive or unpleasant atmosphere that surrounds or emanates from something : a miasma of despair rose from the black workshops.*

* See previous blog posts for more information on Somatic Therapy and the nervous system.

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