* * *

Self Awareness

I tensed as the glass doors slid aside with a whoosh and hint of a rattle. I stepped inside, hunching a bit in fear that my coat would set the alarm off again. It was a chilly Christmas eve, eve, and my winter coat – a gift from a niece the year before – had a tendency to set off the theft alarm at the local grocery. No place else, just there, where I was most likely to run into someone I knew.

Relieved by the lack of an alarm, I stepped to the left to grab a hand basket. I was there to pick up a few remaining items for the family Christmas Dinner, as apparently were a lot of other people who were rushing in and out displaying the determined, harried look of last-minute holiday shoppers.

About fifteen feet inside the entrance, the management had set up a table display of gift cards of all types. A pink-cheeked young grocery clerk was seated behind the display, grimly holding a fixed smile on his face as shoppers stepped around him without making eye contact. He’d obviously been there for hours, intentionally overlooked the entire time.

I focused in my heart, aligned with his, and stepped up to the table with a grin.

I breathed in light, and love, and bathed him in it as I asked him questions about his current situation - how long he’d been sitting there, how long was left, and what it felt like.

I breathed in light and love, and aligned him up with his higher self or soul as I moved my questions to his hopes and dreams.

It only took a couple minutes, but he was smiling when I was done.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked.

“No,” I said, “it’s just that, if I had your job, I’d want to be recognized as a person once in a while.”

He smiled in gratitude, and I waved as I strode into the store.

Namaste,

Glen

* * *

* * *

The Purple Bandana

It had been laundered, carefully folded, and left next to the family phone – a simple bandana. Extra large, purple with light-blue flowers and utterly harmless in appearance, it was a sign of impending death.

Years ago, I’d had dozens like it, worn as a stylistic echo of the hippie era. But I’d slowly been giving them away for most of this century – a few to a sister in law with leukemia, some to friends. Most recently, the purple bandana had gone to May, a close friend of my mom’s.

May was dropped off at our home early in the morning once a week. I’d return from the gym, and there she’d be, sitting or lying on the couch, with the cat keeping her company, head covered with a scarf or bandana.

I’d prepare breakfast and offer some to May, but she’d usually decline. We’d talk with her or let her rest, whatever she needed. Sometime in the mid morning mom dropped May off at the hospital for her appointment, and either stayed with her or retuned and picked her up later.

Eventually it became clear that the chemo wasn’t working, that nothing was going to work, so they stopped. May’s hair began to grow back, and she looked better, if you didn’t watch the way she moved.

May appeared two or three times more. The pain grew and they increased her oral medication, but eventually that was not enough.

The last time May visited was just before she went to the hospice. She’d had the bandana laundered, folded it, and left it by the family phone for me to find. She didn’t need such things any more.

I picked up the purple bandana, focused in my heart, and aligned upward with the Christ.

From the heart, I aligned outward with May, and upward from May to the Christ.

Then I invoked Christ’s Light and Love for May, and allowed that Light and Love to flow into her aura, and back up from her as a beacon lighting the way home.

I made sure the Light shone for her physical instrument, as well as her soul, so that it too would feel the call when it came, and release the soul to its journey.

Namaste,

Glen

***

* * * * * * *

Feathers

Our welcome mat was covered in downy feathers – the little gray ones left behind when a cat catches a sparrow. My eyes sought and found the proof of this, also waiting on the mat – the tiny body, still in death. Our ginger tom, Sunny, proudly presented himself for my approval. I stroked him as he expected, opened the door, and let him in.

While Sunny trotted off to his bowl, I found a slightly-used paper towel and returned to the welcome mat.

The body was in much better condition than the profusion of feathers suggested, but I did not examine it closely. I merely picked it up with the towel, reached for its spark of soul, and found that its light had indeed returned to its species.

As I gently wrapped the body in the towel I contemplated the fate of such sparks of consciousness. The species was far from achieving individualization in its members, and thus the spark of self formerly residing in that body would have merged back into the great pool from which it came.

Sparrows have species consciousness. They can recognize members of their species, and gender within their species, but they lack the self awareness of true individuality. It was sad in a way, yet valiant, when one contemplated all the steps that lay before them.

It was trash day, and as I walked toward the street I recalled the purpose of the animal kingdom in the planetary life – they are the third kingdom, the representatives of Divine Intelligence, the planetary intellect in becoming. Eventually, as humanity and the entire planetary life evolved, they would become the instrument of conscious creativity within the planetary life.

But that is far, far away, as we measure such things, and there and then the most I could do was honor the tiny fledgling soul,

align with it and through it with its species,

align its species with the purpose of its kingdom,

align the animal kingdom with humanity,

and recognize the service humanity can perform by helping animals to create their individual identities and realize their function within the one life.

Namaste,

Glen

* * * * * * *

Healing Light

Ashes. The parking lot was much closer to last month's fires than my home was, and the first thing I noticed as I stepped out of my car was the lingering smell of old ashes.

I refocused, took another deep breath, moved into my heart, and walked toward the main entrance.

On the way I neared a red fire engine parked at the emergency entrance. Two members of its crew were re-stowing equipment in the back.

I moved my focus to the center of the head, and from there aligned upward, through the crown center above the head, to the World Teacher.

As the doors of the main entrance slid aside, I invoked the Healing Light of Christ.

It flowed downward, along the path prepared, and I stepped over the threshold.

Moving forward as my heart filled with Healing Light, I stopped at the reception desk, gave a patient’s name, and received a “Visitor” sticker.

As I passed through the inner entryway, I released the Light from the heart – radiating Healing outward, through the walls, to permeate the entire building.

Down and out, down and out, the Light flowed as I strode down the main corridor.

Past the chapel where I’d worked the year before, past signs pointing the way to radiology, oncology, maternity, and a dozen other departments, to the far end of the corridor.

At the end, I turned right and found the room I was looking for. There were the usual features and furnishings - a small private bathroom, two beds, privacy curtains, and assorted medical devices.

I returned, somewhat, from my inner work, and walked up to the second bed.

“Hi mom!” I said.