Today’s Prayer to Passage continues within the ancient scriptures of the “Nag Hamadi”. This month’s spiritual devotion within these texts will be taking place between June 1 – June 30, 2017.

Today I pray, “Dear God, Today is day five of my transformational journey to the Netherlands. I will continue this prayer as the evening arrives. Thank You for this journey. Amen.”

Following my prayer, I held the closed book in my hands and opened it to reveal this passage:

“I am knowledge and ignorance.
I am shame and fearlessness.
I am shameless and ashamed.
I am strength and fear.
I am war and peace.
Hear what I say.
I am the disgraced and the grand being.
Consider my poverty and wealth.
Don’t be arrogant when I am cast down on the earth,
and you will find me in those who are to come.
Don’t stare at me lying on a dung heap.
Don’t run off and cast me away.
In the kingdoms you will find me.
Don’t stare when I am cast with the disgraced
in the most sordid places
or laugh at me.
Don’t throw me out among those violently slaughtered.
I am compassionate and cruel.”

My journey to Amsterdam was always a matter of faith. In fact, quite everything I do in life is a matter of faith. Faith in what is so. Faith in all levels of consciousness, faith in what’s possible. Faith in my favorite life. Faith in creating the big life I designed for myself before I was even born. And faith in the reveling in that.

I had not prepared my heart and emotions for not having this trip being a solo one. And yet, given the nature of my faith and the belief in all good possibilities, I had prepared my heart and my emotions for meeting this host-heavenly. I have to call him something. The men I have written about thus far each have a nick name, as I do not disclose names here. My former husband is referred to as my former husband. My cherished friend is called my cherished friend. My childhood crush… you get the idea. And this man… this man is my host-heavenly. As I occasionally refer to themes of Heaven on earth, this journey was heavenly, and he was my host. Ancient scriptures refer to angels as “Heavenly hosts”. And he was a bit of an angel to me. And so… “Host-heavenly”. There. It’s set. He has a nickname.

My host-heavenly caught me off guard. Last night I had the opportunity to meet his father. And I met some of the people with whom he is launching a business in the government sector of an environmental movement in the Netherlands. As he was introducing me to these people, we were at a posh little club with fairly loud music. I had dressed all up with larger than usual earrings and my hair up off my shoulders. When he saw me he said, “This is so unfair.” And then he asked me if I would like to meet his friends. He told me, “It might get a little dicey tonight.” I think he thought his friends and father might say something or with the drinking that was involved… and it being Amsterdam… who knows what could happen. Fret not. He’s only a Scorpio. This is how he thinks. Drama.

His sun sign is in Scorpio. The dreaded and nearly inescapable Scorpio drama. Not from him, however, an intensity that he isn’t even aware of has been brought about by him, in others. He explained that people in his life always end up getting really intense. Well… of course! He’s a Scorpio!

Scorpios do that to the people they get close to. It’s not his higher self. As a blanket generalization, and in the kindest manner possible, he chose to be born at a time of year when the sun was in such a position that has his lessons and intimacies and relations with people be privileged to be all-the-more deep and thrilling and inviting and exciting and painful. Death and rebirth. Spiraling up and spiraling down. Scorpio themes.

After he spent that first evening walking around the city with me in faith, I sent him a text message. It read, “I acknowledge you for your adventurous and kind nature, for your attentive spirit, for your intelligent wit, and for your passionate and romantic actions. Your timing is amazing, too. And your level of communication is that of a master. Bravo! P.S. I’m at Magna Plaza. I just purchased a wardrobe. I walked here, via Google Maps walking navigation.” *Excited smile emoticon*

Beyond my new “host-heavenly”…

Today I visited the Anne Frank House. Today is Sunday and I was able to garner a brief 45 minutes in line for the visit. The lines average three hours, which is a broadcasted timeframe in tourist circles around here. So I was amazed that the line was less than one hour today. The Anne Frank House was another aspect of this journey for which I had not prepared my heart and emotions. I hadn’t really ever thought about the synchronicity of our missions… or at the very least, our purpose.

She wrote in faith. I write in faith. She had hope for the world and for her own future. I have the same. Her legacy reaches far beyond the horizon she envisioned. And perhaps mine does too. I wept more than twice throughout the house. And I felt her sprit… or the essence of it. I felt the energy of her writing in the rooms, on the floorboards, patched to the walls alongside magazine cutouts of actresses she aspired to be like someday.

She was a child of possibility. And a mother of whispering reminders. Let us never create anything like that… ever, ever again. Everything is perfect while it is happening. And at that time, that long ago, so too was war. War back then was to remind us that this cannot and must not be repeated. And today, war no longer fits within this perfect reminder to our future generations. War no longer fits. And so, it is no longer perfect for it to ever, ever be.

Anne reminds us of this. Her words are our words. Her hope is our hope. Her heart is our heart. We are so much the same. In her home today, I felt this unity. Unity for peace. And someday soon, the world will join us in this.


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