Once a very scared young woman found herself smack dab in a spiritual awakening. She left her career, her husband; and her dearest friend, her father, had left her holding a wreck of a life in her feeble hands. She nearly drowned in a puddle of her own tears but the gnost of the I AM and the song of her soul would always seep in the most delicate of moments.
A quick jaunt through the spiritual new age, she found nothing there, only more questions as to why she threw a bomb in her life. She knew she had to throw the bomb, yet without knowing why or how or what was next. Yet she knew enough to know. And somehow, most days, that seemed enough.
‘There’s so much more,’ the wind whispered as it dried her tears and ruffled her hair as she stood on the back patio, crying to her dog and raising her hands to the sky saying, well, ‘f**k’.
Lightning struck one day in the introduction to the Crimson Circle materials. There was a silent song that began playing within her womb –where she felt everything that has ever actually been true to live. Some may feel it in their heart or in their core, but for her, it was always in the womb, the fruit of the rose, something so shamed by the world, yet where all the answers really lived.
One night, sleep-walking, this shattered woman, in her knowingness signed up for the Threshold event, claimed to be the most advanced and for those really ready to allow realization. When she woke up the next morning, dripping in anxious sweat, her womb told her that it was time.
Still in her fixed humanity, she decided she needed to prep herself for such a thing and signed up for the DreamWalker Ascension school. The only one in attendance, a shuambra teacher delicately led her through the course, and at the end, this Adamus St. Germain said there would be a gift.
On the recordings people talked of physical objects they had received. This woman and her womb wanted more.
She said, ASG, ‘show me where I am heading, what does it feel to really be an enlightened master. I catch glimpses but I want to know deeply. I want to know the fruit of the rose so on the toughest days that are ahead of me I can remember why I am here. I want to know what love is.’
This woman did not want to know the love of another but the love of herself, to truly know who she was beyond all of the stories. To know God. Her deepest desire, felt in the caverns of her womb, her being-ness.
A short plane ride home, the delicate flower who was just beginning to blossom picked up her dog from the sitter and took him to a nearby dog park on the lake. There she did what she always had done, she played with her dog like a puppy or small child would.
They were frolicking through the grass, wading in the lake, and then they laid down on the cool, damp fall soil. Then she felt something shift, knowing its significance by a sensation in the womb, once more. A sensation that she now knows is the creative flow of the I am that –also called gnost, or knowingness that dances you into the void, into becoming.
What happened next was something it would take many years later to describe. At the time, she called it bliss or nirvana, but wondered why it felt that way –what made it so?!
ASG stood and smiled and opened his hands as if to say, ‘Here it is! The gift you asked for. This is the I am that I am. This is the moment.’
'Remember the fruit of the rose,’ her womb pulsed once again.
Now, I can describe what this woman felt.
Instead of being a perceiver in an experience. Instead of being a human in the world. Instead of being an awake human choosing realization. She became the realization. She became the world. She became the experience.
No lines drawn between the perceiver and the perceived. No lines drawn between the person experiencing the sensation. She was the sensation.
Now, I can tell this woman what really occurred. Many moons and heartaches later.
Just for a brief moment, she returned to the natural state of being in which there is no divide between human and divine, between energy in consciousness. There was no outside energetic force. No gravity. No veil called maya.
Nothing was external in this moment. In fact, nothing was internal, either.
Her breath, the damp grass, the kisses of her dog, everything was hers. There was no 'me' experiencing the sensation. Instead, in pure expression of the I am that, she simply became the sensation.
All this to say, coming into this state in a lasting shift was not a linear process.
It loops around, dives down and back up, flies across the mountains of wisdom and deep into the oceanic depths of knowingness.
While the song of my soul sang its symphony, leading me to the Threshold, it was the gnost, flowing through my womb of knowingness, that navigated me into a place where there was no longer me but only 'I am That'.
A place where there was no longer the woman howling at the moon, and no longer the woman feeling the breeze blow through her hair.
Instead, I became the wind. I am the moon. I am the sensations as time and space move through me and my womb of knowingness. The formless and nameless – I EXIST -- and gnost led 'me' there, lit up in the womb where beliefless truths create formless forms and drop me into the fabric of timespace to experience consciousness right here on Earth.
Something I have desired deeply for eons, and only remembered by the pulse in my flowering womb. The thing that had been shamed for so long - now was where truth lived, and wisdom sowed the seeds of Creation, ready to bloom at any given slice of a now moment.
Lauren Hutton (Sarah) writes adventure novels and short stories about the self-realization experience and beyond. She fancies herself a humanizing divinity journalist and shares her work here with the Magus Kuthumi.