A TRUE STORY of EVOLUTIONARY LOVE

In my beginning.... I was a gleam in my father’s eye and was accepted, birthed, and transformed in my Mother’s womb to transform a memory of FEAR to one of JOY.

I perceived my father as a hero, knowing and feeling that there was something so special and unique about him.  His gentleness, kindness, loving, and playful nature naturally drew me closer to him. 

From my eyes of youth I saw my dad as an adventurer.... a free spirit and a supportive friend to those around him.  He was a dreamer and a visionary who was not afraid to stand up for his own rights while continuing to do what he loved to do; in conjunction with the responsibilities of raising five children.

Dad risked and sacrificed his Life to bring mine forth in many ways.  In this lifetime.... as a merchant marine, paratrooper, and standing with his fellow men in combat during WW2; earning a purple Heart and coming home wounded, yet whole.  

The Island of the Children

Click to enlarge

The following is described as a story told by the Count Saint-Germain to the court of Marie Antoinette shortly before the French Revolution.  He urged her to mitigate some of the animosity that was directed towards her and to make a connection with her people.  

The setting of this story is in the summer house of Queen Marie Antoinette and she and her courtesans are enjoying an evening together with the Count Saint-Germain.  One of the courtesans  implores Saint-Germain to work his magic upon Marie Antoinette so that she would forever stay a lovely, beautiful child.

Saint-Germain said "I'm sorry, Countess.  God has ordained that children should grow up, and I can't work against Him." "What a shame," the Countess .... responded.  "Adults are so boring." The Count responded "then perhaps you ladies do not know the tale of the Isle of the Children?" Saint-Germain glanced around the eager group.  They had not heard the tale and clamored for him to tell it.

Raindrops and Eggs

By John Kruse

Published with Permission 

The stones were dry and hot from the baking sunlight, it had been a long drought, but now the rain and the melted snow high on the mountain formed a waterfall cascading over the rocks. Swallows came to nest on a cliff nearby, building their nests of mud and straw where they protect their eggs and raise their chicks. To human ears the sound made by The Waterfall is but rumbling and gurgling. But the birds would speak to the waterfall and It would speak to them. 

Together they pondered life's Greater meaning, the Purpose of all things, how the lives of the birds go on from generation to generation. And the waterfall pondered the question; Am I here because of the water that flows through and downstream eventually into the ocean. Does running water Make me who I am or is it the shape of the Rocks that the waters run across and give me my form, my existence?

Time seemed to flow by quickly for the waterfall, soon the little swallows grew strong and flew away and so did their parents. The dry winds came again. The Waterfall wondered would he remember his little friends when they returned, would he be the same, would the Waterfall know itself as it knows itself now? With that thought the waterfall ceased to be, yet in time a raindrop fell and then another and another. The waterfall was alive and happy once more, even more so when its feathered friends returned.

The waterfall asked the birds; Am I the same waterfall each time you return or am I a new waterfall? Do you have a name that you call me? The mother swallow said "we simply call you Our Waterfall because you are the same each time we return". Time went by and the dry winds came and the waterfall turned into a trickle, the birds flew away. Soon the waterfall was only dry rocks that lay on the hillside in dreamless sleep. But then one day a raindrop fell and another and another and the sound of feathered wings filled the air.

Mabon ap Modron; Light Returns to the World

 In ancient Ireland, before the arrival of the Celts, prehistoric worshippers erected stone cairns, rock structures constructed to commemorate something.  

Some hold that  such cairns were graves, others considered them to be gateways to the unseen world.  Some contain chambers that only let light in on the equinoxes in the Fall and the Spring.  Perhaps this is to allow some light to pass to, or from, the unseen world. 

  

Traditionally the Fall equinox is a time to honor the harvest.  The time of the Autumnal Equinox is also called the season of Mabon.  Mabon was a character from Welsh mythology, considered to be the god of light, the son of Earth Mother Modron.