Commentary by Susan Nidle


April 6, 1998

Greetings. Bear with me as I comment on the update of March 28, 1998. Many of the phrases in this have triggered a series of thoughts for me. Let me begin.

      I’ve been picturing many of us during our rituals of prayer, meditation, thankfulness, etc. The INTENT of each exercise really seems to be of primary importance, and to me, intent is synonymous with foundation. Careful construction of the foundation of a building ensures its quality and permanence. It is, therefore, best to perform the first steps in building our thought form/ritual with care and attention, in order to ensure the strength of the outcome.

      Why are we performing our rituals?

      “Change is a means to transform you from one reality to another. The key to these procedures is the whole concept of Time as a wave regulator for Light.” Light (inferring divine Thought)“... waves that are moving out in all directions. Their movement makes all dimensions come to pass and carries the energies of divine Thought to all of Creation...You are divine and a co-creator of your realities. However, these realities FALL WITHIN THE SACRED FRAMEWORK determined by the Creator’s divine plan...in order to achieve a sacred ...enlightenment...It is also the primary means for enlarging the concept of existence.”

      Many things in this section appealed to me. Mostly, I was drawn to the reiteration that, even though we have choice and create our reality, in order for that reality to come to fruition, it must have some relationship (because of the level in which we find ourselves) to the framework of the Plan. In other words, if you chant for the expensive car, pray fervently for the big boat, etc., you are probably shouting echoes into a void. (Unless of course, it is your destiny to be shown some interesting lesson by this experience! But really, aren’t those lessons kind of boring in the end?) The direction vector (channel), the expression of our purpose, is done according to divine Thought, not whim. When we kneel, sit, lie in our little rooms praying for the answer, asking for the sign, straining to hear that voice within, it behooves us from the outset to understand and to acknowledge what it is we really are seeking.

      Is the outcome you seek copacetic with the shift in the greater Reality? Are you asking for that which will not benefit you, or those in your soul’s group, this time around the physical? In your meditation, start with your own singular perspective of the problem or situation at hand. Then, picture it spiraling outward to include all of those you know, and those who will be affected by the change you are requesting. We are not small children anymore, it is time for us to realize the impact of our thoughts and dreams. “Every soul contains a divine God-Thought or harmony. These harmonies can be interconnected to increase exponentially the Light in any physical reality. The interconnections are the positive thoughts brought forth by your sacred heavenly Lineage. Your inner Councils of Light use positive thought to help you manifest only positive realities or personal lessons for your growth...Physical reality gives you a limited sense of “free will”. The next important trick is to balance the two...successfully.”

      The trick is to tune in to the positive direction vector and to ask for that to be manifested. If you are in ‘sync’ and in tune to what truly helps fulfill your soul’s divine purpose, the energy must and will flow easily. Then, by asking your angelic council to assist and by calling upon those beings who oversee this reality, you will allow them to assist you in carrying out your soul’s destiny.

      “This change is a group decision. Souls come into a specific reality with the ability to utilize the power of their joint harmonies. When properly employed in large enough positive rituals, it can alter any negative reality into a positive one.” In this time of immense, profound change, the need to tune into the greater good seems even more essential. We are linking with our soul groups. Can you feel this? It doesn’t mean that we are physically closer to large groups of people. You don’t need to hug everyone you feel a soul connection with, although this might be very nice. I refer to that phenomenon of feeling intensely and irrationally heart- and mind-connected to family and non-family members. Lately, it seems more prevalent to experience the “coincidence” of synchronistic communications with people. They will understand completely, have the same thoughts and feelings at the same moments, no matter the distance. Have you noticed this occurring more often lately? In my life I have, very markedly. It is almost a kind of joke — friends half a continent away will write or call me, relatives will contact me, with my identical concerns and intents, even dreaming the same dreams and picturing the changing reality.

      What is your local reality, and of what, literally, does it consist? Identify your local deity. There is a small, sweet park near here. My dog, Winona (border collie/springer spaniel/maniac) and I carouse there regularly. Cedar trees attract me like magnets and I thought I knew the ones in my regular path, but today two local heroes I had never noticed before loomed by the side of the path. Two majestic, tall, old cedars allowed me a few moments of bliss. Winona communed with various little critters while I checked out the bigger ones and was granted another place of sanctuary. To return there during prayer and meditation will afford me many moments of stable connection with the earth. All of us who intentionally connect with the beings who watch over trees, mountains, water, are in turn linked powerfully by these devas. To some, this may seem obvious, but each thought form that we build together and ground through the earth is important. It is another way to build the network and to strengthen the grids.

      Years ago, I was in a group based on the ‘Rainbow Bridge Meditation’. This meditation was designed to aid the group and the individual to construct the “bridge” from the personality to the soul. In Sanskrit, this is called the antakharana. This is an ancient concept, identified in Hindu thought, and present in many old religions. But in the old days, the knowledge of this construction was relegated to secret societies. What is more, it was concentrated upon the individual alone building the bridge. Group building was not attempted. People would gather in groups to do individual work on their individual karmic level.

      The trick about the change we are preparing for, the amazing part of it, is that it is a group experience. More and more, as the last 50 years have gone by, greater numbers of people have been working in spiritual groups, forming group minds (not a herd, but a group), and then linking these group minds to other groups. This is what has been forming the spiritual framework for the grids now in existence. People, of course, work with “the guys upstairs”, the Spiritual Hierarchy, the Angelics and all of the Beings overseeing our planet.

      As a result of our souls’ intent, we are more specifically linked in groups. Not just family groups, which was how tribes and villages interacted, but destiny-laden, karmically-linked groups who agreed to be here for certain joint purposes. I believe this happened before, in certain limited instances. For example, in history there are instances of a profound change in artistic or philosophical thought manifested by small groups of amazing people all born, say, within 30 years of each other. Beings would agree to incarnate in a group to change a certain aspect of society, and to allow a certain wave of energy to manifest on the planet. Now, however, millions of people, bound together through intimate destinies via a web-like etheric structure, have incarnated to effect the ultimate change. We merely need to acknowledge and honor each other, and to act for the greater good of all. It is sacred and it is divine and it is happening.

      I have been thinking again about the issue of duality, black/white, this/that. Working, as I am, with death on a frequent basis, I seem particularly fascinated with the very moment of transition. One day at work, a group of us were discussing a patient's moment of death and someone remarked, “You know, it was so sad, when she died, she was all alone.”

      A famous, compelling modern author of books on near-death and metaphysics even founded an organization to facilitate work with dying people. He is fond of saying that no one should die alone. Compassion and beauty surround that thought; it is a noble one. But, from what I have seen, no one dies alone. I think the ones left behind are the only ones who think those thoughts of loneliness.

      Sure, there may be no one physically present, but the universe is large and the heart of God is infinite. There is room for love for everyone. There are beings present to shepherd the soul through the curtain, no matter what the bittersweet actions of the life lived. Death/life. But, paradoxically, you DO always “die” alone. Another example of black/white, etc. and no easy answers. No logical explanation.

      From what I have seen, there can be many present — relatives, loved friends, archetypes of love and beauty and eternity, and even some helpful souls masquerading as a loved one. They all gather at the moment and bring the dying person through. (The “masquerading” ones are volunteers, empathetic souls recruited to help smooth the psychological effects of the transition.) In most traditions, especially agrarian ones, the Mother in some form assists. Be it Hathor, Mother Mary or whatever, some representation of the Mother is present.

      And on this side, no one comes through to birth, alone. The mother is here, physically. And the Mother energy is present. But here, too, the birth is ultimately done alone, for all of us come down the birth canal, or out of the womb somehow, alone. Even if you are born a twin or triplet, you are dealing with your own energy, your own karma, your own choices and decisions.

      No one goes through the final curtain of personality, down the final tunnel with you, in your body, except you. I suppose that could be called a “lonely” journey. True. At the same time, it is not lonely, there is no real separation, there is no “aloneness”. If we could view the whole picture, penetrating through this cloud of dense reality, it would be obvious to us that the idea of separation is an illusion. We are in a sort of staged play, as the poets say. Written, produced, directed and acted by that clever talented personality -- the fabulous you. Assisted, of course, by the infinite you.

Blessings.

Susan

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  By Susan Nidle

Da Plane, Boss, Da Plane (This is about something that happened two years ago this summer, while I was visiting my brother, who then still lived in California.)

      When Stella came out of the restaurant bathroom in Santa Cruz, she was smiling like a cheshire cat. “They have a surprise for us, they told me,” she said to Helene and me. (Cut to slightly skeptical Susan rolling her eyes.) “Sure, whatever,” I say. Helene laughs, puzzled.

      Later that night, as we travel from Santa Cruz back down 101 to Half Moon Bay, we turn a corner and suddenly the ocean is there on our left, effervescent, magical, crashing. As we slow the car to take it in, Stella yells, “Wait, over there, do you see the lights?” Helene and I look over. Helene yells, “Slow down, what is it?” I just decide the hell with it and pull over to the shoulder of the road. The car is a rented beautiful white thing. We forget to lock it as we get out and stand beside it, mesmerized by the lights. We are transfixed. “Let’s go!” Stella says and leaps across the road, running for the beach in the darkness. Helene and I follow.

      We all stand together at the hill which forms the beginning of the sandy part of the beach. Three huge bright, day-glo green lights are shining to our right, way out in the water, perhaps 5 miles from shore. “Are they buoy lights, what the hell...,” I mutter, at a loss. “There’s nothing out there, just the wide ocean. We’re facing out to the ocean,” Stella says in a whisper. She lives about 20 miles down the road and is very familiar with the area. We turn around to see a car with bright headlights passing on the road behind us. We can see our white car parked across the street, illuminated on the side of the dark road, shining. Strangely, it is under a street light. There are no other lights on the road. I look at Stella. She laughs. “You seem to have parked under a street light. Good protection for the car, huh?” She winks at me.

      We turn around again to confront the growing spectacle in front of us. The lights hover above the ocean. Perspective is lost. Are they 10 feet above? 5 feet? 20 feet? Soon they are brighter. Bright enough to reflect upon the water beneath them. Suddenly, three more lights of the same color and size appear to the left of the first three.

      We are in what appears to be a sort of cove and the first three lights fill the right. Now, these new ones fill the left, in a symmetrical lineup. I look behind us, trying to get my bearings. What is going on? It is beginning to feel as if we are somewhere “else”. I nudge Helene, who is 14 but surprisingly level-headed. We look together. Everything behind us is dark.

      “Where are we, it’s all dark, where’s the car!” She moves closer to me, shivering a little. She always seems able to verbalize that which leaves me speechless.

      Gathering myself, I manage to say, “Don’t be afraid, everything is all right”. I try to keep my voice even. “Just keep a positive attitude. No fear.” There is only blackness behind us, no lights, no noise except that of the gently waving ocean.

      Stella runs ahead of us onto the soft, light sandy beach and drops down on her knees, sobbing a little. Things are getting intense. I hear her murmuring something about ascending, about “take me away, take me...”

      My childhood comes to me suddenly and I realize how much of it had the quality of a dream, or a drug-induced hallucination. But now just as then, I am awake and physically present. Childhood was not a dream, and what’s more, I even have a witness to corroborate the strange reality. My brother.

      I feel the familiar deep longing, the awe and happiness of years long gone by. Here They are again. Present. I remember feelings put aside, forgotten or judged as inexplicable and inadmissible to waking consciousness.

      The lights are brighter and beginning to change colors. Each big light splits into three small ones, giving the impression that each cluster of three lights is actually one ship. Their reflections are clearly seen in the waters below each ship. More begin to appear, in some sort of formation, until Stella and I count 11, or is it 13? They are moving, so it is difficult to count them accurately. And it is difficult to think logically. The left brain is definitely taking a back seat.

      All of a sudden, I feel as if someone pushes me forward. It reminds me of being in a play, and the moment has arrived for me to make my entrance and I have last-minute stage fright, am reluctant to move. The stage manager gives me a gentle nudge to get me going so as not to hold anything up. I am propelled ahead and run forward, Helene and Stella now at my side, slightly behind me. If I am going, so are they! We stop just before the water’s edge, on the white sand. The ocean is lazily rolling in front of us. I look up and the lights are very bright, illuminating our faces. I feel like waving happily, but then I feel almost frightened and in perfect awe. What is in store? Are they going to come out and greet us, extending their hands? Will they whisk us away? Fantastical scenarios fly by in my head. I look far into the ocean, straining to make out any shapes in the distance that is illuminated by the light of the ships.

      I notice the water; something has changed. Helene whispers, “Look at the water, the ocean stopped. Look at it.” She stares open-mouthed and points. The water is folding over upon itself as if in slow motion. Like a wave breaking but in a slow motion film. I stare at it, overcome. Everything is thicker somehow. I drop to my knees, feeling suddenly weak. I have to feel the wet sand, the earth, to ground me. I may float away. The urge to genuflect arises in me, but wait, I’m not a Catholic, I am supposed to be Jewish, sort of. I laugh. I pray out loud. I say, “I’m sorry Stella, I have to say these things.” She looks at me and nods. “Go ahead.” An old invocation escapes my lips, an invocation and prayer to the Earth. The beauty of the green Earth and the white moon among the stars. Stella, her voice rising, says, “They’re going to take us. I know they are.”

      Suddenly, I know. “No, they’re not. They’re just working on something. It’s okay. We’re not going anywhere, just be calm.” Stella kneels beside me, on my right. Helene drops down and sits cross-legged, next to me, her right shoulder touching my left. I smile at her and say to Stella, “I think we’re someplace else now. We are not in the same place.” She nods, calmer somehow. I turn to Helene. “Are you ok?” She nods at me. She is ok. Probably more ok than either of us, the adults. Stella on the edge of hysteria, me at times confused and dreamlike. It seems to me that if the beings in those ships came down to greet us, Helene would be the first to run forward to greet them, even before me. She is much more in tune and accepting than I ever have given her credit for.

      I am more worried about Stella. She had frequently verbalized an understanding of other dimensions and was familiar with my brother and his writings, but had never had a first-hand physical experience of the others, the guys upstairs. (My description of them.) But maybe she is fine at her core. The reaction to the great mysteries of life is so personal. And besides, she heard the voice in the bathroom!

      We sit on the sand for a long time. For the wink of an eye. It is chilly, I suppose, but we barely notice. The ships move back and forth in front of us, working, working, intent on whatever they are doing. I blurt out, “I feel like they know we’re here, don’t you?” Stella nods. “Oh, they know, they know...” We are all of us transfixed, unable to move.

      Suddenly, directly in front of us, but far, far, out on the ocean, a huge wave forms. It rises and rises very high in the sky, phenomenally high, then all of a sudden, it parts. And in the space where the wave had been, there is a cluster of new lights, formed in the shape of a huge upright triangle, with many rows of lights. It reminds me of a Tibetan temple. “Look, do you see? I can see it, it’s a clear outline of a triangle.” Stella and Helene both say they only see rows of lights, arranged in triangular formation. The huge ship rises up higher in the sky, still directly in front of us. We are somehow lined up exactly with the middle of this triangular ship. The other ships, now 6 on each side, are smaller lights now, and arranged symmetrically.

      Something happens as we watch this spectacle, but I don’t know what. Suddenly, the sky is black. We sit there in the dark, stunned.

      Car lights suddenly appear behind us, and the ocean roars in our ears. We jump up clumsily, stiffly. The show is over. We walk in the darkness back towards the road and our car, now visible from the beach in the street light. We stumble up the road, walking uncertainly. Helene looks up, and points to the sky, to the left of our parked car, now just across the road. “Look!” she is laughing and jumping up and down. I look to see a huge silvery crescent of a moon suspended in the sky above us. All of a sudden it disappears and the sky is dark. “They were winking at you, Helene!” Stella says. I laugh. “Those jokers,” I say, incredulously. Helene is ecstatic after the ending of our experience. I laugh again, remembering the silly acrobatics they would pull on my brother and me as children. Bobbing up and down at right angles, disappearing and winking and reappearing, sort of waving at us! “Jeez, I haven’t seen that since I was little..” I stand in the road, forgetting myself, looking upward. Stella grabs me and drags me across the road to the car. Helene is already in the car.

      “Can you drive?” Stella asks. We both laugh. “Sure, why not? Just another one of those intergalactic experiences! Holy Toledo, do you think anyone else saw that?” I pull the car onto the deserted highway and gun it. Just as we approach the next beach cove, a 4X4 pulls out and drives wildly, erratically, in front of us.

      Stella says, “Do you suppose those guys saw what we saw? I bet they did and they’re freaked out!” A large car suddenly looms up in back of me, tailgating our car, and I pick up speed as the 4X4 pulls over to the side of the road. I decide to just keep going. We would never know, maybe they saw what we saw. We are really too full of our own dreams to worry about theirs.

      We return to my brother’s house at midnight, almost overcome with adrenaline, babbling. We figured we had been on the beach about an hour and a half. He takes one look and laughs. “What happened to you guys?” All three of us start to burble and blather out our story to him. He smiles in his quirky way. “Oh, you guys, they’ve been out there almost every night now for the past few months, working on the water, and the grids, that’s all.” I look at him incredulously. He smiles back at me, smirky. “You know how people in Seattle take their relatives to the Space Needle? Well...” He yawns at me and laughs a little. What a guy. A laugh a minute.

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