Doing the Laundry

Today is January 20, 2017, and at this moment, in Washington, D.C., Donald Trump is being sworn in as the 45th President of the USA. I need to do my laundry in town, since it is damp and foggy outside and the laundry has been piling up for a couple of weeks. However, I remembered the Laundromat I use always has three televisions blaring, with no option to change the channels, and as I was not wishing to reinforce Trump’s ego, as well as those of his backers, by watching the inauguration, I let go my plan to do my laundry today.


Listening to my fleeting thoughts, I mused, as I rinsed out my compost bucket, how having Donald Trump as President is as about as good as having me be President: we are both unqualified.  There is no good that comes from comparing people, and as Donald Trump and I are at the furthest ends of any spectrum from each other, it is silly to speculate about any of this. However, I am paying attention, as much as possible, as well as remembering my heritage, in this multi-dimensional “reality” called Life.

For me, Reality is the untouchable, the mysterious unknown, the beyond-words state of being that is perhaps experienced first in the womb of Mother, and then with the transition from the physical to the non-physical. Fighting the inevitable is like going to Hell, if Hell exists at all; fighting the deluded humans who believe they are the only power that exists is like one of my recurring nightmares.

In my dream, I always just miss being grabbed by my foot from below as I soar a little higher beyond the threatening energy’s reach, only to have gravity bring me back down to the ground. Somehow, I manage to spring upwards again, towards the sky, once more just beyond the grasping monster.

Living in this day and age is a lot like my nightmare. There are those who think they know exactly how things will go. They joust for power, trampling on anyone in their way, and perhaps, for a short while, they have the power they seem to require. Those being trampled are either annihilated or embrace that which they suffer, somehow surviving. There are untold millions living this way today, each with a story of horror and abuse, others with stories of hope and survival. The ones who perpetrate abuse are apparently unaware of what they do, how they are victims of their own lack, their own very deep disconnection from Source, the never-ending Energy of Life.

I feel sorrow for all, the victims of abuse, as well as the abusers. I feel it so much that I eventually reach a place within that is beyond anymore pain or sorrow. I am empty, just watching and waiting, listening and dreaming. I am one with the Energy, and I trust completely that all is well, with or without the men who seek power over others. It is a challenge for us to remember we are the co-creators of all we experience. We have a multitude of possible options, just not the patience to look, listen, and see where we wish to be, who we truly are. It is a game, this Life, full of disingenuous players, balanced by those who are awake, aware, beyond the tendency to judge, beyond the need to take things personally, just using their words impeccably, doing the best they can, assuming nothing.

I do not know what is happening at this moment in D.C. but I send forth energy to aid in whatever change needs to happen, deep in the souls of men, to help manifest the healing of hearts, a cleansing.
We need to do our laundry.

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