Monthly Archives: January 2010

'Wisdom' and Other Words To Live By From a Wet-Behind-The Ears Oracle

Normally I step into the shower with a question, expecting and sooner or later receiving a response in the form of words . . . sentences . . . ideas . . . messages that I essentially ‘hear’ and then transcribe for myself and anyone else who might be tuning in.

But sometimes there is no question that I can find the right words for. Sometimes I don’t know how to ask, or to articulate my concern or desire. Sometimes I stand there in the flow . . . waiting for the Flow . . . with only what I feel in that moment, knowing only that my heart is asking for . . . something . . . even if my mind has not yet found the words for expressing that desire.

And so it was recently, as I once again stood there, wanting . . . asking without words . . . hoping to be understood . . . waiting.   As I waited, what came were not words, initially, but pictures. They were familiar pictures of a little boy walking along a beach, with his mother nearby but not in the picture. The little boy had the open horizon of the sea and sky beside him . . . and on his face was a calm curiosity that, again, was familiar but that I seemed to have forgotten.

I looked at the little boy and I recognized him . . . not just his face and form, but his heart, and how it felt to be walking with that horizon beside him and with his mother close by, knowing that all was well . . . knowing that he was loved and cared for . . . protected. . . . knowing only that his world was calm and bright with possibility, knowing only that he was loved and having no reason to question whether he was worthy . . . knowing only safety and comfort . . . knowing no fear or rejection or worry of not being enough . . . knowing no fear about what would become of him or what he would become.

In this waking dream, I saw this little boy walk over to me and take my hand, urging me to walk with him, to be with him in his world, seeing what saw, feeling how he felt. I stood there in the shower, letting myself watch me with this little boy who I recognized and remembered. I stood there letting him take me back to a place where I could see and hear more clearly things I had forgotten.

I let him lead me back to that place of peace and quiet and comfort and joy. And then and only then did I hear the familiar words . . . the familiar sounding message . . . coming in response to the question I didn’t even realize I was asking . . .

Yes, you are loved.
Yes, you are worthy of love.
Yes, that part of you—that child you were and still are—knew this then and knows it now, and will always be there to remind you, to take your hand and to walk beside you anytime your heart calls out to the You, you really are.

In this moment I was also powerfully aware of the ways that I tend to ignore or neglect or just forget about that child—the little boy I was and, no doubt, still am. I was aware of how little attention he receives from me and how strict and demanding I tend to become with him.

I felt his need to be seen and heard—and loved. I felt his desire to be remembered and cared for. And in that awareness, I also heard more from The Team . . .

Not one of you ever stops being that wide open, innocent and eager to love and be loved, wise child that you start out being. You only learn too well all the rules and regulations and requirements that make it increasingly difficult to remember that child.

He (or she) is always available to you, always standing nearby, wanting you to play with him, to notice him, even just to be with him . . . and in return he is always ready and willing to love you with a purity and a power and a perfection that will take you straight into the arms of Source . . . right back to that incomparably lovely place where you—and he—began.

It was a brief message—and one I had heard before–but the words and the pictures once more told me everything I needed to know, to feel what I needed to feel. And for that moment, I remembered again how it was to feel–then and now—at least for that moment, complete.