There I sat, with a cup of warm coffee, the 528Hz music streaming from youtube. The music pulling the negativity from me almost like a boiling pot would release steam. It's amazing the power of music and vibration. If you knew how many times I had to remove the word "my" from these paragraphs, you would laugh. It wasn't My cup of coffee, it wasn't my computer. It's not even really "ME" there, in that room, having those thoughts and drinking that delicious coffee, it is merely the limited, pinched off, suffering disconnected version of myself that sit to submerse myself in human doing, again, another day of such, instead of the being that I truly am. In only moments of scrolling through the censored, highly formatted feeding tube that is social media, in some need of my ego to feel connected, I came to the reminders of the day. I am reminded day after day of what was. Only now I have the feeling in my heart that what has been in the past does stay there unless conjured, and if we are not created by a vision of the future, we are simply a memory of the past, playing itself out over and over and over. A reminder came that it was the day of birth of one of my friends that had in fact committed suicide 5 years prior. I began to reflect as the sadness poured from me, There was no stopping the train wreck. I hadn't realized what I was holding, not to say that it all held her name, but the vibration being the same was awakened and escaped quickly. The thought came, of the beginning. How sad that she had a sweet little soul that called to her for guidance, he just in his beginning, and she had taken so much from him in her moment of realization and forfeiting to her generational suffering.

And yet, in the beginning, the date of birth, is the creation of what will be, that which is literally nothing is born unto this place, and dies back unto nothing, never having changed, only having experienced. Joy, Suffering, Pain, Happiness, and all remaining nothingness.

How dare you the voices (scowl.) How dare you place judgement on another's situation be it so much more suffrage than have you now, or so much more than YOU can "understand." That is the message in and of itself. The one that can be felt, the nothingness and what is left of the beyond. It does not have thought. It may at time observe thought, but thought is not had by the noiselessness of the true self.

In the midst of this sadness contemplating taking one's own life, I'm reminded of the story I had once heard, of the traveler, whom went from India to Africa to acquire products and animals. He had come across so many beautifully colored parrots. He captured one of the beautiful parrots and had decided to keep him for his own. He treated the parrot very well in his cage and fed him delicious treats and sweet things, and often played music for the parrot.

When the traveler was to return to Africa, he asked the parrot if there were any message that he would like him to convey to his friends in the forest. The parrot replied "If you would tell them I am enjoying every day and am happy in my cage and that I send my love."

Back in Africa, the traveler went to the jungle and delivered the message per his pet's request. Just as he did, the eyes of one of the other parrots welled up with tears as he fell over dying. The traveler assumed that this was because the parrot in the jungle was so close with the caged parrot, that he died from the despair of missing the parrot in the cage.

When the traveler returned to India, he was speaking with his pet in the cage, and he told him the story of the dying of the parrot in the jungles of Africa. As soon as he heard the story, the parrot's eyes welled up with tears and the bird fell over dead.

The man was shocked and figured this happened because his pet was in despair over the death of his friend in the jungle. The man took the bird's body and tossed it out the window to the trash. The parrot jumped up alive. The traveler proclaimed: "YOU TRICKED ME! Why did you do that?" The bird replied... 'That was a message to me from my friend, that if I want to escape the cage, I must die while I am alive. " Some would see the cage as a representation of the body, as I have heard it referred to in the story. I personally see the cage as suffering. Therein to me lies the disconnection. Such terrible sorrow that could lead one to the desire for escape, not realizing, for whatever reason feeling so real, that one can die while they are escape the suffering. Sounds like such an easy concept...and yet...


MA62497                                                                                                         MM39882

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​©2016 Heather Barrington
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