Innourish

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Worshipping The Body Temple

Indigenous Peoples Project

The Girl Who Loved To Cry

Once, in a time of long ago, or so it seemed, there was a baby born to a woman who lived in a seasonal climate in the North Country. This baby was pushy to get into the world, coming from a salten sea, as she pushed her way to the light. A nurse placed her hand upon her head. This child did not expec,t resistance to her forward trajectory up from the depths of her cramped cave. She bore down until the doorway opened into a brightly lit, cold environment. Welcome to the world little one: slap!

That’s when the crying began.

When she was up, or in, or where ever she had agreed to go, not knowing what it was she was going towards, At-Onement was all she’d ever known. In fact she was not differentiated from the At-Onement. She It.

There was a movement. Perhaps the moment the desire for her grew in her parents from somewhere she knew not, for she was so attracted and compelled. She heard inside her head “Will you go? Will you be the One to save the World? Will you go for Me so I can experience through You?” “Yes, I’ll go.”

Love was its command.

From one point inside the mother came the call as millions of waves upon surrounded a single point. They were propelled, swimming, the magnetism drawing them in like a moth to a flame.

One slipped in: it was the flame given to light the way in the darkness, this illumination calling, like a beacon, as the wave and the point of light merged to form a visicus pices, a vector, a cross, an opening for our little girl to come through.

She grew from the wave and the one point that doubling spliting, and multipling for an endless time. The spine formed a tubous torus to house the receiver; a bridge between Heaven and Earth.

A tiny pump began to beat as her top separated folding up and out, dividing and spiraling to created a container for this One Flame living within the sea of the Mere, the Mother.

Within the Mother was the Song of Love ringing down the ages from the DNA encoded template, singing this little one and pulsing her into form.

This seemed to take a long time but was really no time at all.

On The Day She Was Born

The moment the little girl was born was a warm spring day in the North Country. Something very sweet was given right away and it made her tummy ache. Of course she cried, and it made her bottom sore.

The little girl grew up at the time when there were books written on how to raise baby by Benjamin Spock.. There were all sorts of rules on how to be a modern mother.

As a matter of course, he real mother, being English, required a nurse: the message being that childbirth is not natural, that you have to have a baby in the hospital and that baby’s should be fed something you mix called “formula” and that these bottled drinks should be administered by a nurse while the mother “recovers.”

It all implied that something was very wrong.

There was nothing wrong, just like it was not wrong for the baby to cry. But a book said it was wrong, that the baby was being cunning and manipulative, so the baby learned to become very good at crying. You got attention from crying.

You got attention for something being wrong.

Baptism was Another Opportunity to Cry.

The little girl came from God so how could she not be baptized right on the spot of emerging from her mother’s womb? Why was she not celebrated and made to feel welcomed? “Guess I’ll just cry At least at some point I will get held, hear a heartbeat, feel not separate from the At-Onement.

It’s all just too much!” thought the little girl, if there is such a thing as thought or separation. The sin is just coming into the world of duality, of being thrown out of the Garden and trying to find our way home again without even a breadcrumb pointing the way.

All the saints and sages are pointing the way back to the heart, back to the point of the heartbeat, back to:

“what was it I agreed to anyway, to be a light for the At-Onement? Now I am in this space suit and I can’t even make out this thing in front of me…. fingers?

I had inner eyes and I heard all at once and I knew…but now I don’t know and I am starting to forget what it was that I said I would do in the first place. I am forgetting everything!”

“Back in the body Again! All the brain synapses going so fast. But time seems endless, repetitive and agonizingly slow! When will something happen? Yet it is happening at an alarming speed and I have no control over any of it!”

This is a thought. What is a thought and Who is thinking it? Who knows and Who is not telling. It is a Mystery. Top

The Naming

The little girl is held in a thin long christening gown, worn by her mother ages ago, over a cool pond of water called a font. As the cold water is poured over her head, all her people are gathered round her and the seal is set. She is called “Mary.” Her soul is named in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, Christened for all time. “Geez, this is cold. Think I’ll cry!” Top

Things Happened

Things happened to the little girl as they happen to all children; incidents that would bend and shape her into the Girl Who Loved to Cry. It felt good to cry and there was a reason. There was never anything wrong. She was the one who felt the feelings for the family.

It was normal to cry when something happen that you had no words for except, “giggie”. The one person who you trusted in the world takes you to a place that you never forget, never recover from and it somehow makes you more sensitive and you cry even more.

The moments of bliss are there. Crying because you feel so much: the freedom of summer, the breezes coming off the shore, the days upon end of swimming and sailing and fishing, of yummy food, and climbing apple trees.

The Fall leaves: the smell of them burning, the winter snow and making angels in it, heaps of snowß that piled outside your door so high you can’t even see over the top.

The spring tulips, daffodils and apple blossoms in the garden.

The Beatles on Ed Sullivan show over at the neighbors, dancing alone in the pink room in town, my first kiss, my first crush on the California boy. Skinny-dipping, wearing tight white peg jeans and a powder blue v-neck angora sweater.

At thirteen my brother gave me a guitar. I loved to play Pentangle songs on the end of the dock at sunset, I loved to reach right into my heart where all the feeling were and it made me cry. Singing became another way to communicate who and what I was: the one nobody understood. “Mary the Fairy, Mary the Crybaby, What’s wrong with you, Mary?”

I was forever trying to translate my wisdom into a language that everyone could understand. Everyone did what they were supposed to do except me. I was standing on the outside reaching in to try and touch my people but they were often confused, and angry. I thought it was my fault, that somehow I was responsible for their unhappiness. My response was to cry.Top

College

I was always ready for the party and often found myself standing outside a closed door. Sometimes the door would inadvertently be opened and I experienced everything I could. It was the 60’s. I had no fear.

Gradually I fell into a black hole and it took me a long time to get out of it. I dropped out of college, I moved to California, I joined a band and sang in front of hundreds of people. I had many experiences mostly along the line of not knowing who I was supposed to be and just going along with what everybody else was doing at the time.

Crying always got me through the rough spots. It was all about "Me.” Finally I arrived at another turning point: I had my daughter. I became the vessel for another light to take birth on the planet. Everything changed. Top

Giving Birth

Giving birth is like coming through a doorway: you are now the point and the father is now the wave and the little girl is your daughter. As soon as she takes her first breath she gives a sweet cry, then, like a space traveler, looks at you in wonderment, and you look back at her with such love as you have never felt before and you cry!

As my daughter grew up I began to have experiences of dejavue, of feeling like life was scripted and that somehow if I only could grasp the key or the meaning I would finally understand what it was I had come to do. I resolved to “get to God no matter what!”

No matter what

“No matter what” turned out to be many workshops, books, and processes up until the point that I felt I could write these books, and I could give the workshops. It took what seemed to take a long time but really did not. Top

Thrashing Floor Experience

I divorced my husband. It was very difficult. I called it my “Thrashing Floor Experience,” the one where God takes and strips you of everything you think you are: the ego drops while you free fall into nothingness. Everything that had meaning to me: my house, my daughter, my relationship with my husband, was all taken away from me. I began to find myself as someone entirely different than the one who had been “Me” before. I was irrevocably changed and I liked the new Me.

I was transformed into a Servant of God and that was good.

Servant of The One

I met a man whose loving of him was so deep that I transcended my body, time and space, and I heard the message I had been given at the moment when the point and the wave merged,

“Will you be the One to save the World? Will you go for me so that I can experience through you?”

Again I said, “YES!”

My body filled with a light, like a transparent opal or a jelly fish. From that light that surrounded me came a voice, the At-One-ment, that it said many things. I couldn’t sleep. I could only make music. Words fell like stars, waiting to be birthed.

"We shall me together. Like the snow falling on the medow.Like the Mist rising from the River. On its way to Sea. One Wave upon the Ocean. One Heart in its unfolding, One Love Eternally....." on and on until I had one long love song playing in my head and anew me came into being,

When ever I am able to be quiet or inspired a feeling comes, a tingling. I shut my eyes as the words flow from my fingers.

The following are essays that have come since that time 10 years ago when happiness came and the crying stopped.

I realize now that the crying was a response to being born into an insane world, one in which the At-One-ment is still here existing simultaneously with the so called “hell” most of us live in.

Love is never lost, it is here, it never went anywhere because there was no place to go to. The “world within worlds” of Vishnu simultaneously concomitant with every living thing in creation. It is One.

We never leave the Garden but, by Grace, are returning to it in every moment, being Re-Membered, calling back the parts, to Life, a never-ending Love Song from God coming through us from the Heart of Hearts. Top

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God. That God could be described or even have a named is not possible.

1.God, from now on, will be a symbol of the ineffable “what’s it” that is beyond our ability to conceive.

2. Christ will be a Way Shower on the Path.

3. The Path will be narrow, but many will be the Path.

4. Once you have found a breadcrumb trail on the Path you will be the only One, and you must go alone.

5. It happens in a blink of an eye.

Re-member, call back your parts, to the Holy, At-One-ment from which all things come. Find the essence, the sweet song, and follow that cord all the way to the point from which it all begins and ends. I’ll meet you there.

Separation

The Sin is the belief that we are separate, that we can kill the light within the other. Once we realize the truth we will not lift a hand to hurt ourselves, whether it is the World, or another person, because the Other is part of Us. As we curse so are we cursed? It’s a Reflective Universe, one reflected in the so-called “Other.”

Language is important to a World we create. As we say, so it is. If there is anything I can impart it is this: there was nothing ever wrong. Crying is water coming from the eyes. This water comes from a river called E-Motion or energy in motion. If we damn it we are damned.

Love one another. That is why we are here. We came to Re-Member ourselves to the At-One-ment and to come Home to where the Heart is.

In Love, Eternally, Maryma Top

Thrashing Floor Experience | Servant of The One | Separation

After Reading Hamish Miller's Book : "In Search of the Southern Serpent " 25/11/06

This references the ceremony at Castle Rock in the South Island where a Maori woman sat in the center of the Lei Lines and a man suddenly sat opposite her and they sang. The next time the site was visited, the numbers of the patterns of the spokes of the lines went from 7 soft petals to 12.)

Within every being and every body there is a homing device that translates the patterns and the energies of the Sacred Sanctuary that surrounds them. The female was always in harmony of the moon and the stars and the stones. She was the gatekeeper of the messages. While the male was the Journeyer, the female was the Way Shower. They fit together to create the Key

In the number 7 and 12. The seven are the charkas and the 12 are the planets and reflective octave of the 7. The reason that the energies are so radically different in northern Europe is that the masculine energy has subdued the intuitive female energy with a consciousness that is angular and sharp.

The energy in New Zealand is a female-led energy and the softness of the flower petals reflecting that the women will lead here. As love leads, so will the Maori. The Maori have brought a bit of angularity to the land originaly gifted feminine with the Waitaha Ancestors: in the beginning, when all the colors of the rainbow and the circles were perfected; where the ceremonies and the tidal nature of all were honored.

The stones and the lines are the natural places where the energies are acknowledged and ceremonies carried out, so that when the young woman sits at the center, her polar opposite seems to “appear” and then disappear. The women called the vibration into the place and within a year the 7 had turned into the 12. When you add up the numbers they return to Io.

In this place “I stand tall” I hear and am receiver of all that is and I interpret the words so that others can understand. I do not know the details but am scribe for the Io or the One: the many in the One and the One in the many. We are all attuning to the At One-ment, re-membering our parts to the whole, repeating the stories, remembering the stories, to create the sanctuaries where; “P.64 In Search of The Southern Serpent) The temple carries a message (Temple, Template, Body Structure, Sanctuary, Sacred Om)

“This Temple carries a message to the world. To acknowledge and honor the deeper and wider journeys that enshrine the universal wisdom.” What happens in the Temple is what is happening in all the sacred structures throughout time. The body is the temple template and we re-member ourselves within it. Born of the Mystery Schools. The elders say we have a time of re-turning, a time or re-membering our ancient inheritance.

The Rota wheel turns, and, as we lose our deeper meaning in drama, we loose our dream (that we are creating in every moment.) When the dream is lost, the spirit flees.

Sacred places are where Gia gifts inner energies born of a higher vibration. As the spiral dictates, from the energy behind the form, flowing out an energy that is readable. The past is enshrined in the present through the song, the stories, the stones, and the reading of energy tells the pattern. As the pattern is absorbed and interpreted the pictures emerge.

The meaning is simple. The meaning is love. It is engraved on everything in existence. The unseen darkness holds the treasure. The opposite is the compliment of the other, as the other is a reflection of the consciousness that created it. What appears before you is a gift and a sign and a signal relating back to the environment you envisioned.

If you don’t like what you are seeing, love it back to wholeness so that you create an ark on which to ride the tides and a bower under which to refresh yourself.

The world is for your asking, so if you want to know the meaning, then be still and listen. The patterns are there in the vibration, however it appears. Once the message comes, then do not effort to understand it as the understanding comes in and of its self and is enough. Because there is no time there is no need to do anything. It is all a readable library.

You create the Sanctuary so that all who come are blessed. This is not a doing of any kind. It is a state of Being. The Sanctuary helps in the preparedness of it all. The preparation to hold the higher octave of the energy to come…that has come and that will be coming: The Energy of the Io or at-ONE- ment; the energy of Love everlasting. You are that Love. You are that Being of Love and Grace.

If there is ever a question, let it be of At- One-ment and Blessing. Let the rivers of emotion flow and wash over you, cleansing your hearts and minds in the knowledge that this is the time you signed up for and you are in the right place.

In Aoteoroa - New Zealand holds the key to the whole Universe (One Verse) because it has not been destroyed. The signs are still alive in the land and from those signs the women read the patterns and sing the songs in the place where I stand tall and receive this message.

Maryma Nov 28, 2006 Nelson New Zealand
After reading Hamish Millers book In Search of The Southern SerpentTo

Audville

Love means simply being God. Love means living God in every moment. Love means sitting in the eye of the storm and not being the storm. Love means not locking doors and holding back unless you are opening your doors to pain. Even then there is a gift in suffering. There is the healing of our past, the de-encoding of the groove of our lives.

We are the living library and we sit before you ready to be read. Not awaiting some judgment day, some labeling so that you can under-stand us better, but evoking a new knowing in the moment, being real and readable. Hearing with our own ears not filtered through a system that no longer works.

Audioville. Take me to the other side. If there is somewhere to get to. I am waiting on this shore. waiting to arrive. Noticing all the signs that got me here. Listening for all I’m worth. Knowing I am worthy to hear the horn rising form the fog believing with all that I have that there is lion set upon me.

I am here. I am not going anywhere. There is no movement except in thee. I Am the boat. I Am the ferry man. There need not be any other river steering me towards my destiny.

Violence is why?

Why I cry for this part of me that robs and tries to murder a form? Were that it were real. Were that this soul which dwells upon me can reach in and find the bullet lodged against my heart. My heart so full of another that I cannot see the differences any more.

My boarders are crossed, my boundaries annihilated.

Sitting with the object of my affections, (there are so many,) knowing that the energy in which I move and have my being is the same energy that pulled the trigger, is the same one laying in a pool of blood, is the same misunderstanding that I am for the taking, that feels numb and can not feel compassion, that would put a hand to my mouth so that I will not scream in terror as I am penetrated.

There was no fall because there was no place to fall from.

We were always here awaiting your recognition, your awakening into the mystery of yourself. You do not need pills and potions to take you here.

May my light shine forth to the others not separate from me to draw them nearer My banks. May my mere presence heal the oozing woundology of stories repeated throughout time in the name of a self-created God who does not exist, who has never existed.

This groove of long ago that never seems to have an ending, this story of creation comes from One source. I Am the author. Where ever my eyes fall spring up garden or ruin, creator of heaven and hell living side by side.

Deepness as richness as flowers. Go there if you can. Sit beside me and stare into my eyes. Know that we are not separate. Know that we are reflections of one another.

We can change this to beauty if we chose. We can tell another story anytime we want. We are unfathomable diverse creatures you and I. Let us chose love for a change. Let us not despair. Let us forgive one another and see the murderer within ourselves and nurture it back to love. Let us throw open our doors to Ishmael and Haggar once again.

Ishmael and Haggar

We wanted a child. I held her as you planted your seed, Abraham. Seed child. Star child, tributaries of the same river. Take me to the other side, if there is one. I can’t seem to delineate any longer. I hear the voice of my inner guide telling me to just sit tight and let the movement flow around me for once. Let the doing and the business subside for a while on this great shore of myself, authentic and authenticating, lovingly lapping waters of the Gne Great Holy Sea. Making myself available to the gifts you all bring. Being that gift. Listening for the call. Broadcasing it loud and clear so that those who have ears hear it.

"Oh sweet one, thank you for being such a good (God) receiver. Never doubt for an instant that I am not fully enlightening within you. Beacon shine on. Take the whirling mass inside the vortexes of your soul. I am there always. I am there issuing forth a summons to those who would have me. Take me to the other side. Call me to your side. Embrace my long lost inheritance: something lasting at least. Recognize me for what I Am. Unleash my voice to the eyes of the unfolding Universe. Make ready my ways, my inroads, my paths .

Let me resurrect within you. Let me rise from the ashes once again through all of you. Let you be the bower under which I refresh myself. Make yourselves available for that which I AM. Prepare a table inside yourselves, filled to overflowing, abundant with fruit and flower, never so starving for affection that you give the one crumb you posses for my love.

My love is never ending. My love fills the cup to overflowing creating rivers of e-motion, energy in motion, flowing from one hand to the other, dancing in awakening. I am here finally through you all. I am here in reality because you have made it so."

(This piece comes from a time when I was having many deep experiences triggered by a sense of awakening where the words would just came and I let them. I wrote this in 1998) Top

The Hot Coal

Once there was a very sad and disappointed man. Try as he might he couldn’t not understand why his generosity and his vision had not been repaid and why he continued to suffered setbacks and disappointments when all he really wanted to do was play and be a happy person. “What did I say or do to deserve this?” He thought.

One day a woman came to him and told him a story about a hot coal, how generation after generation this hot coal is passed down to the one who would hold it. Every time the coal is passed down the reaction is “I don’t like this at all!” and it is passed or, thrown, or projected on to “nearest and dearest” without anyone quite knowing what’s happened. Something didn’t feel good but what to do or how to get rid of it became a process of denial: ”I didn’t do anything wrong.” The hot coal continued down the generations.

One day there was someone who realized that the hot coal was a source of pain for anyone who held it and said, “I’m going to find out what this is all about.” For many years the person felt like a victim, that everything was happening to them, and they had no control. “Why me?” they said and the answer came back “Why not? Might as well be you.”

Many years passed as the coal burned and twisted and filled the person with many experiences and there was no getting away from it. The person tried to make it the “other’s” fault at great destruction to the hearts of those who loved him. In the end the person surrendered and sat with the coal until it cooled down. The mere action of no action made the heat dissipate, while the tossing and the resistance made the coal burn brighter.

Talking to the coal the person said, “who are you and what do you want?” After a long time of listening the coal said “I am the disowned part of you. The one you don’t want and you “don’t like. I am the unfelt feeling of life times. I am the part of the spark that was given to each person when they entered the world and I am your treasure.”

I help to you discriminate and let you know what you don’t want so that you see what you do want clearly. I am divisive, I make the differences seen and felt, and I have a tremendous energy that burns very hot. Once you know who and what I am, as part of yourself, you will be able to use me to do anything with this vast reserve of energy that I Am. If you resist me I will drain you of everything you think you have.”

The person was thoughtful and realized that rather than resisting, and running from this “problem” that in sitting with it, it had a lot to say. Instead of running from, ignoring or denying the so called “problems” that came up in the course of life, these experiences were transformed into rich “compost” that fruited the vines of the beautiful garden the Master sat in.

Many people came to learn the lessons that the coal had to teach: transmutation and discernment from sitting with that which burns the hottest and listening to the messages that these experiences had to gift. Much was understood and continued to unfold in the coming time, but from now on the hot coal and the person where one, and all was well. Top