This winter has been a difficult one. First the deaths of two long-time companions, one unexpectedly and one long-drawn-out by heroic medical interventions. Interventions that ultimately could not defeat my friend’s belief that her life had no meaning.
And secondly, a tenacious virus that has, at times, made me wonder if I would recover in time to meet my grandson, due to arrive in two days time. I guess that’s the dance of our later years, birth, and death, illness and recovery, in quick succession, never really knowing which you will encounter next.
This morning my husband’s heart fibrillations caused quite a stir and two things came from that, the first was a series of images about the meals we share each day. Very mundane images for a meditation, but also very profound.
As I worried that I might lose him to the heart problem that has courted him for years, I saw our daily lunches and realised how I would miss those. That simple act of cooking for him when he has a gap in his work diary, which I normally class as an annoyance as they dictate my time and feel inconsequential. Suddenly, they were arrayed before me like a backlit comic strip. I could sense the warmth from the food and between us, unspoken, habitual, the action of love in life, and it brought tears to my eyes.
The second thing that followed were the words from my inspirer to us both. I share them here because I hope they are of relevance to others, especially those who meditate or allow their inspiration to flow in other creative ways.
‘Beloved ones, do not let fear take the upper hand in your lives. It is inevitable that as you age your passing to Spirit moves closer within your consciousness, but in both of you the main trajectory is within you. Day by day, hour by hour, you move towards your soul and your soul moves towards you. It speaks within you and your listening ability is no longer occluded by your mistaken beliefs about yourself, or the injunctions of others. It is a clear channel and as a clear channel, the veil between life and death is transparent to you, and that is what you have been working for.
‘It makes sense, does it not, for that thinned veil to sometimes shimmer in the cold breeze of friends passing or tenacious illness. Your personality rationalises that if it is an easy passage to traverse by choice, then just as easily the veil could billow out one day and take you unexpectedly in its embrace. But your personality takes no account of your soul’s need to be active in life, and its purpose, that is your purpose. You could say the soul is like the saturated liquid in a science experiment that cannot pass through a gauze layer until it has diluted sufficiently to do so.
‘Your life is saturated with your soul’s purpose and neither you, nor other onlookers, can ever predict when the saturation of purpose has diluted sufficiently for the soul to seek its progress elsewhere. Worrying only shakes the container, it does not accelerate the dilution, nor does it stop the action of purpose on life nor life on purpose.
‘The one reminder that I would add is that the container is held by the hands of the Creator, and the solution in which the granules of purpose are floating is Love. Your soul, so lovingly created, is eternal and therefore has the Light of eternity within it and is in perfect communication with the Creator. A Creator who has one eye on humanity and the other upon you. Shalom.’
In conclusion, as I share these personal stories and messages of hope, or context perhaps, I am acutely aware of the warfare and suffering throughout our world. After all where is the clamour that this publication is meant to rise above? How can I include an article mourning the loss of two people when thousands are dying elsewhere? When people are losing their entire family and seeing their future lying in ruins? Some may say, ‘How dare you!’ And they have a point, but maybe, just maybe, compassion can only take root in the small, personal, losses, that you allow yourself to feel.
I know that as much as I am grateful for the healing and peace that I receive, my thoughts immediately reach out to others. Especially to those whose existence is in peril, who must feel abandoned not just by humanity but by the God they believe in. My heart aches for those in whom fear has the upper hand and for whom violence is their chosen route towards peace. A route that, I believe, can only lead to more heartbreak and shame.
I am aware of the argument that meditation is selfish, or an avoidance of suffering, but all I can say is that, to me, gratitude feels like unleashing the universal Light of Love. A Light that ignites in one person and spreads instantaneously around the globe, available to be captured by all. To some it might sound like the echo of a prayer, to others an unbidden feeling of release or hope, and yet to others a reason to pause between finger and trigger.
If a virus can transmit itself stealthily throughout the world, then why not Love?
© ZD Finn 2024
These inspirations will eventually form part of ‘The Library of Lives,’ a series of inspired journals published by ZD Finn.
More information can be found on zdfinn.com and some of the terms and my use of capitals are explained in the Lexicon created by @zdfinn on Medium.
Finn runs a healing and meditation practice in London, and offers mentoring to those seeking to strengthen their own soul connection.
