More Anna

She has an inkling that it is an evolved form of herself leaving her gifts of clothes and food. Angels of the future beckoning the people forwards, soothing the pains of transition, doubt, regret. Protecting these self-chosen few from the ridicule and persecution of the falling race. All are one and so how can duality exist? How can my story tell of one who is led forwards in peacefulness and courage and masses who try to stop her, reject her, starve her?

Perhaps the masses represent her old self, the products of years of strained thought forms bound by earthly foolishness and short sighted striving. She senses bright beams of golden sunlight streaming through those years, offering sustenance and light to people who can turn to it. And with each step that these enlightened ones drift soulfully forwards, the masses shrink back and fight amongst themselves ~their own music playing out in the game of karma, itself an essential and blessed process no matter how bloody and nasty it gets.

So Anna's love enfused with the ancient sunlit beams present throughout time, embraced the masses. Subtly though and in private. If she were to be brave enough to step outside her lean-to she would need unseen layers of protection to survive. To show her love and acceptance would meet with certain death. Devoured by the callings backwards, her only earthly survival would be the soft victory drugs on offer to dull her golden perception. To offer blankets and food to Anna the lean-to dweller a steadfast anchor to truth and evolution was her staff.

An ability to stand within the misery and mess in compassion and with steely determination was what she was cultivating now. Fed by the gifts of food and clothes, nourished by her own voice assisting her soul to heal itself, she awaited further guidance, be it weapon, armour, or simply a map. Whatever form it took, she trusted she would recognise it.

To pass the days she observed her breath, noticing changes in her body and subtle self. She drew signs and pictures in the woodland floor around her, pushing the luscious earth against the leaves and stems of her enclosure, instinctively protecting and moulding her space. She listened to the birdsong and other snuffling creatures of the forest, sensing their presence to be aware of her and yet respectfully distant.

Then there were the black moments. After her initial arrival to the earth's surface when these terror-filled images and forces were all she could sense, the darkness retreated a little to allow peace in. Her acceptance and translation of her current experience grew from the darkness, laying roots and spreading leaves and blooms through her psyche. But the danger was still present. A black hole so close she knew it was wholly able to claim her with any utterance of permission. Sickening, stifling, frightening she lived with its foreboding as close as the ventricles of her heart muscle, a stench that would constrict and suffocate at a blink.

The angels held this off for her on the days that she could not. An extra terrestrial force field suspended her from plunging, yet even the knowledge and sense of its presence fed her woe enough to leave her rocking and listless while the wave passed.

Perhaps these waves were karma on a psychic level, playing out and rebalancing lifetimes of earthly existence. Perhaps they were ripples from the masses of human experience warping through God, Gaia, not imprinting but releasing, naturalising, transmuting in God's perfection. Let them go, Anna, let them go.