One of the suggestions that the Divine Mother has given us recently was to do things that give us pleasure. And I am seeing the value in that.
As the chaos in the world continues, I’ve been following her advice by listening to music as I write. It’s an experiment I’m running.
And the value of her suggestion becomes clear as I work.
Music is like a jump meter for me. As I listen to All Things Must Pass or It’s a Delicate Balance I’m carried back to memories of good times and bad. My small or large vasanas are triggered with each song and I “jump” in my chair.
We know that the Mother wants us to raise all our vasanas to the surface so that they can be swept from us. And each song does that. It causes me to twitch or squirm.
I hear myself saying: Oh, that was wonderful. Oh, I miss that person. Oh, that really hurts.
Music is a barometer of my wellbeing and what work remains to be done. I move from melancholy to joy as I get a synoptic view of all that I did or didn’t do.
It’s an urgent matter that all of us lightworkers “smooth out” our experience of life. The Arcturians and others have told me that it’s necessary for us to be masters of our consciousness, of all our thoughts and feelings.
So devices like this use of music, that can assist us to see just how complete or incomplete we are with ourselves, are important nowadays. We need ways of measuring how resolved with ourselves we are. And listening to our favorite songs is a way to do that.
As I listen to a melancholic song, I notice that I have a tendency not to initiate contact. That comes from being a writer and a hermit for so long and valuing my solitude. So I tend not to make the first call to see a person. I don’t see to my own needs. And that habit can promote melancholy.
Listening to other songs, I remember relationships in which I didn’t bond. Another reminds me of one where I ignored the difficulties that arose and allowed the gap between me and the beloved to grow. Some solve problems for me by helping me to experience the feelings to completion. Others I surrender to and let them carry me away.
Others take me to vacation trips that were tremendously significant. A trip to Florence or Paris in which I felt connected to our common history. I remember reading Irving Stone’s The Agony and the Ecstacy (the life of Michaelangelo) as we travelled through Europe, going from one of his installations to the other. Superb.
Others remind me of peak moments in my life. John Denver’s Looking for Space reminds me of the est Six Day Course, probably the best workshop I ever attended. Bette Midler’s The Rose reminds me of Enlightenment Intensives.
Still others remind me of sorrowful times. Leonard Cohen’s Suzanne reminds me of the day my Mother died in a fire. The cover even has a woman in flames on it. I was listening to it just before receiving the call telling me of her death. “Steve, your Mother is dead.” Those words are etched on my heart. I can’t look at that album cover without bursting into tears.
One song is particularly healing and that’s Pachelbel’s Canon. I must have every version of it on my computer.
I believe the Canon is a musical reminder of the entire life of an individual – beginning slowly and reaching a crescendo after which it slows down again and then abruptly stops. When it ends, I usually feel tremendous joy and satisfaction. I am complete.
It’s 4:30 in the morning now. I’ve been up since 2. I notice other editors are up. Articles are being added in draft and then completed and I can track who’s up where.
But I’m absorbed in my memories as the songs play. “I want to know what love is. And I want you to show me.”
I wonder to myself if I’ll ever reach a time when nothing jangles me any more. Probably after Ascension, I’ll listen to music and my jump meter won’t go off. I’ll have reached a stage of bliss when all things can be taken in stride.
The more I notice my vasanas, observe them, and let them go, the sooner I reach that mellow space when all things will surely have passed and I myself will have reached that safe haven of equanimity and serenity.