Willard

You know, every once in a while, someone comes along—and you have a hard time forgetting them. Maybe it’s a lover? A teacher? A bestie from school? Willard was none of those things, but an unforgettable pillar of strength, courage and love.

I had picked up (another) Cathy in Denver. We knew each other from the Pineal Tones choirs, and she offered to join me on the last leg of my journey home. I wanted to camp,  and being by myself in the woods—didn’t seem like such an astute idea. There was always safety in numbers, right?

So, at her suggestion, we had landed at the Loft Mountain Campground, which is part of the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia, also known as The Blue Ridge Mountains. The forecast called for rain, this particular Wednesday, our first day in the park, so we ventured off to Mt. Vernon—beloved home of George Washington, and a figure near and dear to my heart. The next day, we agreed to hike down to what was called

Lower Doyles River Falls, weather cooperating. And, so it was that we set off down the trail to the falls. We were just getting started when we came upon an older gentleman standing off the path dressed appropriately in hiking boots, and wearing long hiking style khaki pants, buttoned shirt, army green fishing vest, cap and glasses on a cord hanging around his neck. We stopped to say hello, and he showed us a small acorn under his magnifying glass. He confided that he was an artist—but seemed somewhat shaken after our conversation—as we parted ways—-asking if it was alright if we gave him a hug good-bye.

I had seen him at his campsite when we slowly drove the asphalt drive into the campground, looking for the spot to we would call home for the next three days. However—somehow his apparent circumstances stood out from the “normal” RV,  family, couple or weekend hiker; he was sorting things at his picnic table, as we passed by.

After our “chance” encounter, we visited him several more times, and invited him to our campsite two nights later to enjoy the campfire. He shared his artwork, which was neatly contained in a folder. His story seems unremarkable—just a guy traveling by himself—camping—until you realize that he was 86 years old and had gotten wind that “they” were getting ready to place him in a nursing home. What, I thought? There was nothing about this man that warranted placing him in a facility for the aged or ill. He

 shared that he had lived in Vermont for 40+ years—built his home there. His wife of many years had passed several years before and he had a daughter who lived in the LA area. He had a sister that wanted him to live with her in Virginia.

Getting wind of obviously someone’s else’s plans for him, he told us that he bought a copy of Consumer Reports—found the most reliable and economical car they advised and traded in his old one. He found a close-out tent for $24.00 and collected the rest of the miscellaneous camping supplies he would need—and off he went. Arizona was where he spent last winter and felt he would be heading back that way when the weather began to turn. He knew he didn’t want to be around the inclement winters because as he said, he didn’t want to slip on the ice and break a hip.

My mind since, has reflected back to my own Mother and her circumstances and her desire to live her remaining days in her home; a wish my brother-in-law refused to honor. Things are not always as they seem. But, Willard’s story brings up many ideas about parking people in nursing homes—when they are in fact vibrant, and “not ready” to be housed in group homes. Where is the freedom to choose? And, where does that truth lie?

As we were parting good-bye, we wished him well on his journey. He wished us well too. There was a soul connection and something profound and unspoken, we all knew; we could feel it. We also knew that there would be no way to remain in contact; this was it. No email. A sister’s address for legal purposes. A flip phone with limited airtime. No text. I had the knowing it was just the way it was meant to be. As we said our good-byes, he stopped. “You know, on the trail, that first day, I was a bit shaken,” he confided. I had witnessed his welling-up but had said nothing. I saw your light, he said, and it startled me. I smiled and so did Cathy. “I am keeping this as a reminder, he softly noted looked us in the eyes and then slid the tiny acorn into his shirt pocket. I smiled again and gave him another hug. We walked away.

Ironically, the acorn, is a symbol of strength and power. That was who he was—and that was what he held in his hand. It is the same for us. No matter where our life starts—or from our own humble beginnings, we All have the ability, just like the Willard and the tiny acorn. We have the strength like the mighty oak; it’s not inside some of us. It’s inside All of us! We need only to believe. Namasté

 

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About Cathrine Silver

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP, is a Certified Holistic Health Coach in private practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, Florida. She works collaboratively with clients on their desires regarding disease, relationships, spirituality, and loss. Suffering through her own loss in 2005, Cathrine motivates and empowers others to be the heroes in their own lives, becoming fully responsible for their own happiness, joy and well-being.

Cathrine holds a degree in Speech Communication from the University of Washington, is a graduate of the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and holds certifications in Reiki, Matrix Energetics, Hypnosis, Biological Decoding and Grief Counseling. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero

www.Cathrinesilver.com (Website)

www.cathysilver.me (Blog)

cathysilverhealth@gmail.com (email)

Cathy Silver Holistic Healing (Facebook)

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A piece of Cake

Sometimes things are just plain unexplainable, period. We call it synchronicity and coincidence, but speaking now, for myself, amazes me whenever these “chance” alignments occur. I’ve heard it referred to ‘physics with an attitude’. (And, infinite LOVE is at the center of physics.) Examples in real life though, help us to believe that the Universe conspires to bring like-minded things together in a vibrational sequence. It’s about living in the moment, being open to possibilities and certainly going with the flow.

Some things just seem to be beyond our control. Or perhaps, everything is?  Are we riding in the passenger seat, while larger invisible life forces known as our higher self and soul drive things around us based on our very personal intent? We are after all co-creators, right? Or sometimes, we deliver the messages of what others’ need to hear—or are in need of? Do we serve as divine message carrier?  More and more, I am beginning to feel this is Truth with a capital T.

I was out on the Olympic Peninsula for just about the entire month of July. I had volunteered to make dinner for friends, and the decision as to the menu was entirely up to me. After a number of considerations—I decided homemade pizza—sans homemade crust; store bought refrigerated crust would have to do this round. Scrolling mentally through my mental list of ingredients, I quickly realized, my pizza stones were at home in Florida. I was spending more and more time on the Peninsula, so, why not invest in the proper equipment and leave it here? Easy thought and idea, huh?  As you know, many things do not go as planned, and this was no exception!

With instant delivery, overnight service and that giant known as Amazon, I assumed this purchase would be a piece of cake.  My Friend Brad didn’t have a mailbox at his Sequim home, but I thought for sure, Amazon would have lockers nearby. After all, Ft. Lauderdale certainly did, and I snubbed them every time I walked into the local Whole Foods.

To make a long story short, Amazon and Walmart did not have what I wanted—or should I say—couldn’t get it to me with the speed I had become accustom to. It was Wednesday and dinner was Friday. Plan B: There had to be one.  

Now Sequim is the gateway to the Olympic rain forest, the Pacific Ocean and the playground for hikers and RV’s. But, it’s often a challenge to manifest things in an instant or so I thought!  Therefore, an idea occurred. I’ll call this Plan B. I would drive the 40 minutes to the touristy town of Port Townsend. I had visited there a few years ago, and It seemed to me there was a small kitchen store. They certainly would have the large pizza stone I was in search of. And, so the adventure unfolded. 

On the way into town, I stopped at the Goodwill. You know, one man’s unwanted clutter is another man’s treasure. No pizza stone, but a bargain for a William-Sonoma muffin tin. 🙂 Onward ho . . . I had spoken to Brad’s neighbor on Whidbey Island to see if she was available to meet in PT for lunch. “Oh, Cathy,” she said, I am elbows deep in cookie dough, going to be at my daughter’s house tomorrow.” “Next time, raincheck,” and I hung up the phone.  During our brief phone conversation, Joan had suggested the Mercantile Quimper, just beyond the ferry loading dock. The store was cute, and had a lot of stuff—in fact small 12” pizza stones, but that wasn’t what I had in mind. I continued my quest . . . the cooking store, the Green Eyeshade, back to What’s Cookin’, Don’s pharmacy (which still had a working soda fountain), Henries Hardware, and back up the hill out of town. I had passed Habit for Humanity’s store on the way in and decided to give it a go. Who knew what I might find in peoples’ discarded household articles and unwanted items? I parked, and spoke to an employee loading chairs into an elderly woman’s Toyota as I walked to the entrance. “Pizza stone, yea, we get them from time to time, but they’re not a high demand item.” I nodded my head in agreement, I guessed he was right. And, this was where things got interesting . . . 

I followed his instructions and soon found myself in their “kitchen” department. Quickly, another female employee greeted me, and asked me what I was looking for. I explained my quest—and she shook her head. “The woman who runs this department is off today, but I haven’t seen one lately.” Shortly, a conversation ensued as I was obviously talking to another cook like myself and we were discussing the finer points of homemade pizza and alternatives to my pizza stone dilemma. Minutes later, a slender 40ish looking man in a blue t-shirt and jeans appeared from around the corner. “Excuse me”, he said politely, “I am sorry, but I overheard your conversation, and I have a pizza stone if you’d like it.” Wow, that would be fantastic I thought and the woman and I glanced quickly at each other. “No charge—I will give it to you.” He continued, “my wife doesn’t like it, and she told me to get rid of it. You can have it.” I shook my head and smiled, “sure, that would be great. Thank you.” 

He, Matt—now I knew his name, had another stop in town before heading back to his house. We traded numbers, and he said he would text me when he arrived back at his house. In the meantime, I decided a quick bite to eat would kill the hour or so wait, and based on the suggestions from the women at the counter, I headed down the road to find The Cup for a bowl of chowder.  “Wow. That was divine intervention” said another older employee who stood behind the counter as I headed out the door. Yes, it was! 

It was a cute little restaurant in what looked like an old remolded house—painted latte-brown with a few scattered red umbrella’s and some outdoor furniture—for those celebrated warm days in the Northwest. I was seated and ordered my chowder, grabbed a piece of the local paper to read and I waited for my food. As I paid my tab, I wanted to leave the waitress a larger tip and dug into my wallet to pull out a Susan B. Anthony coin that had been riding in my wallet for months. I looked up, most of the lunch crowd had disappeared, and I caught her eye. “I’m leaving this dollar and I wanted to let you know, it wasn’t a quarter—with the other singles on the change tray,” I said smiling. “I collect those for my grandson, thank you”, she said. We chatted for a minute about her grandkids, and then I got up and headed the towards to the door. 

Now, I happen to be wearing my purple WASHINGTON husky wind breaker that my father had sent me several years ago—and a man working behind the counter looked at me, and asked me, “Did you play ball for Washington?” “Yes, actually I did—about a 100 years ago”—and smiled back, and stoping to talk for a moment. I can’t remember the exact sequence of our chat, but I had to be me—and shortly into our “light” conversation, I stopped and said, “You know, you were born magnificent.” He was wearing a baseball cap and pulled it over his eyes and bent his head downward, placing his hands on the high counter in front of me that separated us. I continued, “Maybe that’s the real reason I came in today?” “You know we all carry divinity inside—but sometimes we just need to be reminded.” We are all part of the One.” With that, I detected, for whatever reason—and whatever his story caused a welling-up deep emotional reaction.  I reached over to the counter, where he had laid his hands, and put mine on top of his, giving his fingers a squeeze. He gave my little finger a squeeze back.  He had had all he could take and I silently walked out the door. 

Whatever your Truth, sometimes we all need to be reminded of our divine magnificence. I left the restaurant, and followed my GPS to Matt’s house, where I happily accepted his gift, and my new pizza stone. I left Port Townsend with a smile. There were so many things to be grateful for—and the Universe had conspired in a most unique and exciting way to make everything happen perfectly. I just followed the cosmic crumbs! It had been a day of soft sweetness—and the Universe had delivered me a delicious piece of cosmic cake.

 

Apple – Vision for Our Future?

Most of us who have ever walked through the mall, know what the Apple store looks like, even if you have never owned a Mac or iPhone—or any Apple product. You have, however, probably noticed the busy hum from behind the glass windows as you walk by this praesepe. It is always like a big giant cocktail party without the cocktails! I preface this, because on Monday, I spent hours inside the store. First, making the appointment—then returning for my designated appointment time—and then making a third trip back to the store after a backup. (They gave me the option of backing up my computer before they unloaded my data and reloaded it back onto my computer.) Anyway, as I sat there going through the whole process waiting as the expert worked to diagnose my computer’s issue and then worked on a solution to fix it—I gazed out from my designated stool where I sat at the Genius Bar and took notice of the meld and diversity of clients, waiting, looking, shopping and learning. This was America. And our strength showed in the extreme diversity. Even more impressive, its cohesiveness.

With all the fighting and vitriol spit out by our current political administration—it was so nice to see what I believed along; we all have the ability to get along. The genius who helped me had many long colored braids. She was a multi-cultural mix very different than my own northern European lineage. She was Cuban and Puerto Rican and Polish and Russian and had this exotic beauty that radiated from her being. Sitting next to her, also being helped, was a gentleman from the Dominican Republic—and another from South America. We all shared many of the same concerns; we all wanted to live peacefully and in harmony with each other. Our conversation of agreement, not discord.

This picture and vision in my mind today made it very clear that we, as a great nation were founded on diversity; it is our strength. It’s funny how sometimes technology can bring us together in unsuspecting ways. I’m sure this was not exactly Steve Job’s vision, but one that was born out of his legacy, many years after his passing. I would say, the founding fathers may have had this vision too. Needless to say, if our current powers that be, could step down outside their ivory towers, they too might observe something their blinders have prevented them from seeing. Fear separates and tears us apart—love brings us together. If you are in one place, you can not be in the other. As we continue to shift and grow in conscious evolution, we will be more able to appreciate one another when we stand in compassion—and come from that small place which resides in our hearts; after all we all belong to the same human family. This is humanities alchemy; the magical process of transformation. If we could only look out over the Cosmic Sea of Oneness and see our sameness—the world can shift much faster. Oh, maybe we can?  I saw that vision of Oneness in the Apple Store last Monday—and so can you! 

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LOVE IN THE AIR

Several years ago now—I resisted the gym, which, I must say I thought was strange, but there was such a pull to be outside.  It had been coming—but this particular year—I couldn’t go back to the stuffy atmosphere and stationary workout equipment I knew so well. Something strong was calling me, so I went with it. I called it Gaia. I needed to walk—to feel the fresh air and sit by the beach. To commune with the palm trees and sand, the unique tropical birds and big bright green iguanas who watched me, silently; weird moveable eyelids and their prehistoric nature all became part of my experience.  And then one day it became routine. Every morning for almost two years I walked the neighborhood. In the process—I said hello to new faces and others became familiar on my walk each morning; soon I had old friends that I passed each day waving to and greeting with a smile. I watched the neighborhood change as houses were put up for sale and new families moved in. Other houses were remodeled, and their new beautiful renovations updated the quiet streets. Lawn and maintenance crews were always present somewhere along the way like standard fixtures. So were the police, waitresses—and the businesses of Lauderdale by the Sea and the community in which I lived; it was all mine.

And, then there was Richard. He worked as a maintenance man at one of the big elegant condominiums on the beach. Normally, most mornings when I passed by, he was out in front with a hose—washing the side walk. I said hello—and he smiled—and said hello back. Occasionally, as I got to know him better, we would chat for a few minutes. Never very long—as there were cameras everywhere he would say—and he wasn’t keen for trouble.  So, most mornings—it was a wave and a hello and a smile and a cordial wish for a good day. We all have people in our lives like this—and I enjoyed his smile and energy as much as he enjoyed mine.

And then, like the tide—I was called back to the gym. And, I would now only walk occasionally. Months later—while walking “my route”—Richard was out in front washing the sidewalk like always. I said hello—and he said, “where have you been?”  I told him I had gone back to the gym—he said he had missed me, asking for my number.

To my surprise, he called me. We met at Starbucks a few times to talk. I gave him one of my books. I learned he was a gifted musician and music was his passion. He was divorced. He had two children. He had been born in Jamaica. I shared my story too. But, most of all Richard was just sweet. He had a contagious smile and caring eyes. And, probably one of the nicest people I knew. Our friendship grew—and he would drop over to the house from time to time. He played his CD for me one day—and his voice and talent were amazing. I’d make him coffee if he’d had a long day—and we continued to talk about life; never shallow conversations. Our friendship was real and honest. I guess that’s what made it so special. When I was out of town and hurricane Irma was barreling in our direction—it was Richard who came over and hauled in all my stuff in and prepared my house for the storm. That’s who he was.

On October 29th he texted me at 8:09 am. The text said . . . “Good morning”. “Thinking bout u.” I respond back—“Good morning! How are you doing?” “im good can i stop by”. “What time?” I replied. “Now” he texted back to me. (I was in the middle of breakfast for my LAL students who live in my house—and still hadn’t had my coffee.) I texted him. “Later?”, I asked? “Ok i will try.” But that day went like a flash and we did not meet.

On November 5th my cell phone rang. It was a 305 area code and a number I didn’t recognize but I answered it anyway. “This is Richard’s friend Noel”, the caller began. “Richard died last night.” I paused, “Richard Friesland I asked?” “No Richard Harvey”, the gentleman replied. What? I paused drawing a blank for a nanosecond as my brain searched for meaning. “WHAT?” I said again. “How did this happen? When?” I was shocked—and told Noel—I needed a few minutes to process this untimely news. Richard was 43 and had young children. “How could this be?”, I thought to myself.

I talked to his brother Ian several times—he sounded just like Richard. I attended his funeral two weeks ago.  It was a celebration of his life! But, I miss him today. Without realizing it, he had impacted me in a very subtle and profound way. His brother said he talked about me a lot. I guess I had impacted him too.

As I reflect  on our friendship—I guess you never realize how somebody’s going to impact you—or what meaning they hold in store for you. And, how this “chance encounter” would affect me so deeply today.  I feel him around me. I “hear” his voice and laughter. I wonder if he is one of my guides now? I feel that he is. (My friend Annie confirmed this is in fact so.) And wonder now, if that is why I had such a pull to walk pulling away from the gym? I know there are no coincidences or accidents. I also know that there is no such thing as an inappropriate death.

Before his “graduation from earth school”, his young nephew awoke from a deep slumber—walked into his Mother’s bedroom and said, “Richard can’t stay. He’s got to go.” Two days later Richard was gone from a undiagnosed kidney infection.

I know that there was a love between us that was unexplainable—an undefined intense soul connection—that I for one didn’t understand. Maybe he did?

I think it is important with all the division and fighting, and angst in the world right now—and in the United States in particular, to create a unity with others. At the end of the day—we are all the same—all from the creative source—all with divinity inside. We must throw away the idea of separateness and embrace our Love for one another; one Human Being to another. This much I know is true. I think Richard did too.

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Rewriting Our Future

That sounds impossible —-even the title makes no sense—the future hasn’t happened yet, right? Maybe we live here with the capacity of many “future potentials” which exist just beyond our conscious awareness? There are many signs and indicators that says this is so. Science just believes what it sees—and then if it proves different—there is disbelief by many, just ask Dr. Bruce Lipton or Alfred Wegener. So, why wait for science to catch up?

We are creatures of habit. That serves us well sometimes and sometimes not so much. We have tremendous imagination to create new inventions and new innovations when we are open to new ideas and new ways of being; the Universe is always conspiring to help us succeed, but so often we stay stuck, resisting and refusing to let go. How’s that working for you?

I remember reading a story about a pair of slippers. The gentleman had been given a new pair for Christmas—and in spite of the beauty of the new pair he was given—he refused to wear them—insisting that the old holy thread bare ones were just fine.  I think he said his toes fit well!  A silly story, but how often do we refuse to slip “them” on and enjoy the feel of something new and toss the old ones out because they are no longer useful? Ideas and beliefs are that way too. Fear keeps us stuck in our past.

We can’t imagine a new future until we are ready to let go of what isn’t working. Relationships, jobs, and even our health fall into this category. Our lives give us challenges and ways to grow, but too many times, we do the same things over and over and then wonder—-how do I dig myself out—when we’re looking up at the light from the bottom of the well? It’s important in our daily lives, not just in philosophical meanderings on someone’s blog.  If travel is done in a multidimensional state, it is almost instantaneous. If we are multidimensional beings (of light)—then at some level, we have that ability as well. What better place than in our thoughts? We do it in our dreams every night.

Consciously, some have more access to it than others, but everyone has this ability.  Yet, just like our gentleman with the slippers—we have to believe this is so and throw away the old story. Are you ready for a new one? Or at least v.2.0?

What if this gentleman who received the new slippers—decides to walk next door—in his NEW slippers to thank his neighbor for receiving his package from UPS—which on this day required a signature? As he rings her doorbell—he realizes she has company—her sister is visiting. And, in the course of this exchange—meets the new Love of his life. By opening up to new things—even before they happen— changed his future. Letting go of our old story is necessary for healing too! “Ya, can’t sit there and whine”.

If we are multidimensional beings influenced by our multidimensional DNA, we could also assume we are always picking up these signals which may come in the form of electromagnetic waves. (Just ask an astrologer of the influences of space planetary configurations called trines, conjunctions and squares—as well as retrogrades and eclipses and thousands more!) That means we are always receiving messages—but because this is the “planet of free choice,” we have to give our intention to receive–and not resist this new upgrade—otherwise—the old software continues to run—and probably not well—until it eventually just crashes and dies.

So, the bigger question is, what timeline and future potential are you choosing? Which train are you choosing to ride? We all get to rewrite our future using the Quantum (invisible to our 5 senses) Ink. Think of it like using a black light—the writing is there ready to be seen, lived, viewed and used—we just need to believe that the light is already on. We must turn our head to see the writing and acknowledge that it’s there.

Can you see that you are so much bigger than you see in the mirror? Do you know and believe that there is a much better potential timeline waiting in the ethers for you? Are you able to see that vision? How can your story be seen as a soul visiting earth for your growth and expansion? How can your experiences cause you to love more? (including yourself) How can you see the magnificence in yourself and others?  How can the biggest challenges teach and heal you?  Even looking at them as teaching experiences changes our experience if we allow it. Maybe it’s finally time to connect with that deep invisible multidimensional part of your DNA—and begin to rewrite your future? Are you ready to wear your new slippers? What will your imagination, upgrade and quantum slippers create for your earthy future? Tell only the story you can tell!

 

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Choir Adventures in Avalon

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Sometimes changes are subtle. Changes can be “quiet.” Small things can be Life-changing. And, some changes don’t make the 6 o’clock news.

The last week in May, I participated in another Pineal Tone Choir.  This year it was in England; Bath. Cute historic villages which dot the English Countryside where history gets written and then forgotten in legend; until we are reminded once again.  Bath is very close to the small and quaint town of Glastonbury—with a history that dates back thousands of years. I understand Jesus and his Uncle made three trading trips to Glastonbury; tin was the metal needed in Palestine at the time.  It was a village of natural sustenance; the place where we romanticize and connect with wandering musicians, poets, and hard fought battles. This was the place able to amplify human consciousness due to the strength of the invisible crystalline grid.  This was also the place able to amplify the desires that exist within every person—known as the “hero’s journey.” The place of King Arthur, Excalibur, The Stone and the Sword.

Last year, in France—400 people from 44 countries gathered for this extraordinary event.  This year there were 440 of us from 40 countries demonstrating the soul family exists outside of our biological family one: we are truly connected to one another in a very profound way.  Choir members feel like long-lost soul brothers and sisters. Was this the greater truth in our voyage to earth? Was the intention to own and amplify our magnificence?  And, in turn help the world to feel theirs as well? A vision and metaphor of what can be?

The Avalon Choir, gathered to sing tones that have been given to Dr. Todd who has a relationship with “those that set them up”—a light language—or quantum code—when sung in pairs with pure intention—open time capsules—and match up polarity points on Earth, change our DNA, and work to awaken new consciousness.  The changes are powerful. In fact the true power comes when the toning is combined with a Consciousness of Action. This action is leading us to a destination that human consciousness hasn’t seen before. Spurred on by the Procession of the Equinox—this 36 year window—is changing the course of humanity along with our Pure Intention.  And, one of the biggest take-aways—is “History will no longer drive the future!”  In-between the HA, HA, HA’s and the AUU, AUU, AUU’s there is perfection and harmony. We as a race are connected intimately and on a fast-track into our future.  And, that future includes LIGHT! Because the tones were developed for our biology by the Superhuman’s from the STARS who set them up, I would bet that we are right on schedule!

What else did we learn in England? We ARE from the STARS.  This is the creation story of the indigenous—and it is modern man’s too. As we move away from our dysfunction, we will begin to change the parameters, and see this system which will move us more deeply into the AGE of COMPASSION.

Glastonbury is where the legend of the Sword and the Stone originates. But it is bigger than this small village west of London. The sword we know has many names—and personalities.  Here it is called Excalibur; a master of its own, stuck in the Rock. The ROCK cannot be destroyed.  As with all great legends, we know the Rock with a Sword in it has been there a long time. The ROCK represents the Darkness of the Past. Who pulls it out of the stone?  The One who has destiny on their side—the energy of Light and the Magic carried inside.  We are the fifth civilization who has tried to pull the sword out—the four others before us failed. The name of the individual in this scenario? It is not man, or woman. It is the human being—or humanity—this civilization #5, and our destiny is change.

And, as the human steps up to the platform and looks at the sword; WE smile. We now know the Sword will come free. We have figured it out. We have the magic. We have a wizard. It’s called 23 pairs of chromosomes. Where does our personal superhuman wizard come from? It is in our DNA, given to us by our seed parents—the Pleiadians—and it is inside of us. Because we have their biology. It is not in a few—but in all of us. (plus the 24 pair which is multidimensional and therefore not yet “seen”.) We are ALL from the Stars. And, when we acknowledge our Wizard, we acknowledge the creation of the wizard as well. Today we may call it our higher-self. But the Magic we carry is God INSIDE. That is what our seed parents from the star system of the Seven Sisters—the Pleiadians gave to us.  And, when we grasped the sword and pull it out of the stone—“everyone” knew.  This is what happen in 2012. And, during that choir in Maui, when we held the Sword up high; the change began. The galaxy celebrated our achievement!

This is the Hero’s journey completed.  Yet, this is not the end of the story.  It’s only the completion Part I. This battle of darkness is one that we have begun with sincere and intense conviction. We have more Light than ever before, and we have a wizard helping us along the way.  And with our fellow Lightworkers—our companions—WE WILL PREVAIL. In every Hero’s journey, there is romance, victory,  great depth, intensity and emotion. ALL ours.

The name of the Sword is peace on Earth, and we know it by many names. The reward for the journey is they say, is not the peak for which we all strive. It is always the here and now. The journey of humanity is no different. And as the Sword (peace on Earth) starts to glisten and shine in the Light, We as humanity will take the Sword, walk it out of the station, ready to do battle with Darkness, knowing we have already won.

This is not the end of the journey—but a new beginning. We have entered a new Time. We have pulled out the sword—we have met the Wizard inside—and We now know we have help. We are illuminated and full of Light. Perhaps, one day it will be on the “6 o’clock news!” Until then, as Jefferson STARSHIP sang . . . “Nothing’s going to stop us now.”

Battle Cruiser

I met the truck only the afternoon before.  My friend Brad had named it the Battle Cruiser with the plate to match: BTLCRSR.  I must admit, it was certainly not a pretty sight. The yellow paint faded—exposed rust in certain places and green moss covering parts of the exterior and hood. It’s four and a half decades were evident; it was a work horse.

After some coaxing, the loyal truck came to life.  I was happy to see the life return as the deep throaty motor sounded like a tired warrior awakening as daybreak arose too early: Brad pumped the gas pedal and cajoled the old Ford pickup into being.

I had a mission—and needed the Battle Cruiser’s help.  The instructions from Brad were simply that first gear was not necessary—to low a gear to start. “Use second” he said. Easy enough I thought and nodded, as I climbed in the next morning and sat in the driver’s seat, starting the engine.  After decades of smaller and smaller cars—and trucks—this old relic was immense.  As tall as I am—and as long a reach as I have—I could not, even leaning over and stretching, open and unlock the passenger door from the inside.   Were the vehicles really this big???  Wow.

And, so it was, I shifted the truck into gear, lifted the clutch and headed up the wooded driveway finding my way to the 101 and to the Kingston-Edmonds ferry off the Olympic Peninsula and toward Bellevue; my childhood home. I thought about my mission to save the trash burner—a request out of my Mother’s house—before it’s fate met the awaiting bulldozer; demolishing it to the ground.  Another era gone.  As I pulled out of the driveway and on to the Sequim neighborhood graveled road, I felt my Father sitting in the passenger’s seat.  Perhaps, he felt my bit of nervousness, apprehension, or trepidation with the old truck?  At any rate, I felt the reassurance as the memories of familiar childhood adventures surfaced.  This time however, I was driving—and he was riding.  I continued my drive south 42 miles to the Washington State Ferry terminal; my mind concentrating on the road as I roared along feeling like something out of Mad-Max Road Fury.

I thought about the laughter that ensued when I voiced my request for the trash burner; I had my reasons and I didn’t really care what anyone thought.  I pulled up to the toll booth to purchase my round-trip fare.   “Lane six”, said the woman in the toll booth as she handed me my change and receipt.  I smiled and thanked her, easing the truck back into gear and driving forward into my designated parking lane to await the Ferry’s arrival into Kingston terminal. Settled, I hopped out of the Battle Cruiser and headed up to grab a cup of coffee—standing in line—I heard someone shout—“Here comes the ferry.”  I abandoned the line and headed back to where the truck was parked.  The adventure had been so smooth thus far and all was going as planned.  Or so I thought.

Lane five moved beside me and I turned the key in the ignition to start the engine.  Nothing. I turned the key off and on once again.  Nothing. I pumped the gas pedal and tried several more times to start the engine . . . nothing.  Not even a peep from the mechanical beast from which I sat behind the steering wheel slightly panicked and watching the other vehicles and passengers drive past me and onto the loading dock—and onto the green and white vessel that crosses Puget Sound so regularly.

“Are you in trouble?” the WSF* system employee shouted, I nodded—“yes, I think I am,” I answered back.

“I’ll get someone to help you.” And, I climbed out of the Battle Cruiser wondering, what just happened?

Within minutes, another, employee named Sarah had wheeled over a portable battery charger to jump the truck.  She stopped—and pointed to the winch on the front bumper.  I turned my head and stared, “Oh, sh-t,” there was smoke coming from the winch. Whirling back towards the terminal—she said—“I’ll be right back—stand back.” I looked at the winch with disbelief, and within moments she was back with a large fire extinguisher ready to douse any flame should it appear and this situation become worse.   With the 11:55 am ferry loaded—I watched my ride sail away—wondering how long I would be sitting on the Kingston dock—somewhat helpless and wondering what was next?

Before I realized, there was more than five WSF employees who appeared from almost nowhere—pitching in to work on the truck. Now, I will tell you, that I feel I have many talents—but auto mechanic—is NOT one.  I was raised helping my Dad with horses, not automobiles and besides having the oil changed, stopping for gas or running the car through the car wash—my desire ended there.  So, the fact that this help had arrived with a positive attitude and generous giving spirit brought me tremendous gratitude to my uncertain circumstances. I explained, that I had just met the truck the previous afternoon . . . it was on loan from a friend.

And, so with an obvious quick assessment of a trauma medic, it was agreed that the winch wires needed to be cut; disconnect the source of the problem! In agreement and with a plan, we began, focused on the task at hand.  I choose to look under the front seat for something that might be able to help cut the wires to the bilious dying winch—and happily came up with a small pair of wire cutters.  Phoning Brad, I explained the dilemma and what had happened.   He offered to come save me—but I told him I thought I was in good hands; I would certainly let him know if I needed his help.

As I turned around to offer the red-handled tool to my new “pit crew” a man two rows over held a crescent wrench, another pair of cutters and gloves.  He began to disconnect the battery.  I turned back around and another lady asked for water.  I handed her mine—and she worked with precision filling the dehydrated battery cells.  I glanced over and noticed that another gentleman was leaning over the front fender and working in hyper speed skillfully cleaning contacts and then rerouting the wires that connected the solenoid, to the battery and to the ailing winch.  (Which apparently was the reason the truck wasn’t starting when jumped.)  This man, wearing a bright orange T-shirt with motorcycle designs, white hair and beard, and half smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth worked with such expertise we all sort of stepped back; everyone seemed to sense his mastery.  Before long, the “bull” arrived and another attempt at starting the disabled Battle Cruiser began.  We—the truck and I— had definitely developed a bond since I had first climbed aboard hours before.  This time when I turned the ignition—the resuscitation of the Battle Cruiser was successful and it issued it’s healthy roar.  I literally welled up as the “pit crew” and other waiting passengers in line clapped and cheered at our triumphal achievement.  I stepped out with a big smile and thanked everyone. The battery cable clips came off and the hood came down—just as the next ferry was pulling into the dock.  The lady in the car next to me handed me a wet wipe—she said, “they’re really for make-up but I think they will work great for the grease on your hands.”  I hadn’t even noticed.  Another woman came up to me—and said, “If they load and you aren’t signaled—please go ahead to me.” I thanked her too.   This was a reminder of humanity at its best.

I waved and honked in gratitude as “Sarah” waved me on . . . I was the first one on the ferry for that crossing and I felt very honored.

I reflected back on all the chaos in Washington D.C—the hatred and vitriol spewed by so many these days. There was certainly no fence sitting anymore; all was being revealed.  You could not be someone you weren’t.  I believe deeply we are all the same; okay—we may look a bit different—but we are all pieces of the divine.  I believed humanity was proving it’s chance for goodness and light; in fact we seemed to be at war with the darkness: greed and lack of integrity and hatefulness.

The event on the Kingston Dock certainly cemented my belief in humanity’s goodness—something I wished the evening news focused on more—not the inherent fear, fear and fear they sold to their vulnerable audiences daily. It is our power of intent—our desire of compassion—and our tolerances and acceptances of our differences which make us strong.  Our common goal must be one of LOVE—which if you haven’t heard, is the most powerful force in the Universe.  LOVE changes physical things and it will change our world too.  The time is now—and we are the Ones! The powerful  difference we each make based on our choices every day changes our world. And, that’s the world I choose to see and live in.

The rest of the trip was seamless and the trash burner is safely stored in Sequim—waiting for its return to service.  I on the other hand—look forward to the next adventure—whenever and however it presents itself. Namasté.

“Inspired Wellness from Within”

Cathrine Silver, HC, AADP

Cathrine Silver is a Board Certified holistic counselor with a practice in Lauderdale by the Sea, FL. She is the author of the book, Riding the Light Beam: How Any Woman Can Find the Hero Inside available at Amazon.com. She can be contacted via email at cathysilverhealth@gmail.com. For more information visit www.CathrineSilver.com.

As a post note:  I learned that the man in the orange T-shirt name was Richard.  He was a master mechanic and forensic scientist from the Tri-Cities who had been visiting his wife whose daughter was due to have surgery.  I had gone upstairs on the ferry to use the restroom and have a snack.  I purchased clam chowder and a water—and upon walking up to the cashier—made a last minute decision to add a beer.  LOL—it had been quite a morning.  I sat down—and Richard walked by.  I called his name, and asked him if he drank beer.  He replied—“On occasion.” 

“Can I buy you a beer”, I enquired? He nodded.  I got up and went back to the cashier and returned to the cafeteria where Richard sat.  “It’s the least I can do.”  “Thank you for everything” I said—“I have a feeling—I would still be sitting on the dock without you stopping by.”  He said, “I saw the hood of the truck raised.  I travel with my tools.” 

 I will always be grateful for all who gave me help that day.  On some level, we are always watched over—and he was one of my Earth Angels that day.  I was glad I could offer the simple gesture of thanks. 

*Washington State Ferry

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