I had a traumatic moment Saturday night and sharing about it is always productive, always profitable. Our worst moments are the times of our best and deepest learning. And this was no exception.
I attended my high school’s 50th annual reunion. And because I was school president 50 years ago, I was asked to address my classmates. On the spur of the moment.
Well, you know my dilemma.
I agonized over what I’d say. When I looked, I saw that I had nothing else to say than the matters we discuss here. Nothing else interests me any more. I think I’m almost totally illiterate in the ordinary, normal, average world’s business.
So how is one to talk about a coalition of galactic beings, celestials and ascended masters coordinating an Ascension and causing the fall of the cabal, etc., etc.? It’s almost impossible. But it’s all I know any more.
I was faced with the task of laundering and sanitizing my “glad news.” That task was almost overwhelming to me.
And it went over like a lead balloon. I was even challenged by one member of the audience for talking about things that were inappropriate to the event.
My desire was to tell my classmates what a wonderful future lay ahead of us. And I’m not sure I got very much across.
Afterwards I had to smile and cut a cake, with all the cameras going. And then I skulked away feeling devastated. This must have been the ultimate upset for me – to flub it in front of your high-school classmates.
Of course I’m dramatizing. But that’s the way it felt for me. That’s the emotional truth.
I faced a sea of uncomprehending faces and I did not inspire them, speak to their listening, etc., etc., and I wanted to.
I got to see how challenging it is to move someone, inspire someone, communicate my enthusiasm when those I’m speaking to have not the foggiest notion of what I’m talking about and may have reasons to oppose my speaking about it.
If I were to have considered inspiring them, I would have said: “It’s so exciting to be alive in these times. There is so much happening.” And just left it at that.
How often do we have the opportunity to step out in this work and actually see what the reception would be like? Well, I certainly had that experience. And I learned so much. Can I talk about it to you? I know I can. And hallelujah for that!
Skip this next part if you’re short of time.
One lesson I got almost immediately was that sanitizing the story as I went along was overwhelmingly confusing. I probably ended up looking ungrounded to them because I was dropping any reference to galactics and archangels and then mending the story as I went along, jamming pieces together that don’t fit.
I wondered if I even told a story that in any way resembled what was happening, so cobbled and reworked was it. I was not well prepared.
We all know that being ungrounded is when opposition comes up. I knew that and forgot it. Forgetting what I knew cost me dearly and that was a hard lesson too.
Second, I got, in an up-front-and-personal manner, that almost no one in a cross-section of 100 people knew anything about what is really happening today.
Not that I blame them. I don’t. But I see how little a listening there is out there for these matters – at least now. My heavens, when will this knowledge be more widespread?
A third lesson was encapsulated in what one person said to me before the speech: “Speak to their listening.” She put the matter in est terms.
I did not do that. I did not speak to their listening. I spoke to my listening.
A fourth was that I did not prepare my audience for what they were about to hear. I didn’t find out first if I had their consent to talk about anti-grav vehicles and free energy and a new economy. Many of them simply did not believe what I was saying.
A fifth was that I did not feel my audience out gradually. I gave them the whole enchilada in one go. You can take that but they could not.
I got down to my bones the need to be appropriate to one’s audience. It doesn’t work to blow people away by saying too much too soon.
Sixth, I know from my Sociology years that a group devolves into a single individual in the speaker’s mind. But I did not use that knowledge to have this group devolve into a single person I liked and held in high regard. I allowed myself to see them as a sea of faces and that always makes it difficult. Again I did not apply the lessons I already knew.
Seventh, I was given the opportunity to see how much work remains to be done, personal work, if I’m ever going to be able to talk publicly about these matters.
It wasn’t all bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. I got to apologize to one person for something that had been bothering me for years and I got to see her generosity in the situation. I got to acknowledge to another gal that, if she hadn’t kicked me out at 4 a.m. in the morning that day, history might have been different. She might not have married that other guy.
We had fun.
But one lesson stands out for me from all the others and I am so happy to say it. This is the best of the best.
I emerged from that occasion seeing the tremendously huge contribution you make. And, yes, I mean you, the lightworker community.
Do you know what a blessing it is to have a company of lightworkers – a sathsang – who do know what’s happening, have accepted it and are working with it? Do you know how relieving and satisfying it is to have someone to talk to about these matters? That someone is you.
You know how the Company of Heaven says that many of us contribute by just holding the light? Well, you also contribute by just holding the listening, supporting the conversation, holding the space.
You are actually my home room class. You are the Reunion of reunions.
It’s you I want to talk about these matters with. And without you, knowing what I do, I would go insane.
We know what’s going on and we talk about it. To each other. That is a huge contribution.
Have I never said that? How clumsy of me. How we take people for granted.
You are irreplaceable in my life. And this is the ultimate Reunion.