When I set the captured spider free into the garden, it stayed stuck in the spider catcher tube for several seconds. When I managed to shake it loose, a nearly invisible strand of spider silk still connected it to the inside of the tube.
It had somehow anchored itself into this very temporary home—in just the few seconds between scooping it off the kitchen cabinet and walking it outside.
When this tiny spider finally allowed itself to be moved by centrifugal force as I arced my arm like a hammer blow to free it, it landed weightlessly on the leaf of a bloomed out pink valerian and promptly disappeared.
It had made the decision to launch into the unknown, pushed by the pressure of me shaking it out but also, I am somehow sure, because it knew that freedom awaited outside the prison of the tube. Even if it didn’t know quite where it would land, it had to be better than where it was.
It’s frequently been said that we are anchoring in the Light, the higher vibrations, simply by our presence. We needn’t even be aware of our contributions; apparently it happens automatically, through some alchemy I don’t pretend to understand. The more Light we are, the more we help anchor Light into and onto Earth.
That seems pretty foolproof, a more or less automatic process where we contribute without conscious effort. Anchoring in the Light must be such an important component of Ascension, perhaps the celestial powers-that-be wanted to make it a fail-safe so that even stubborn humans couldn’t mess it up.
I believe there must be another component in play, the component of letting go—loosing the anchor that holds us to our old ways, habits, and attitudes.
How can we anchor to the New when we’re still weighed down by the Old?
At this juncture of realities, possibilities, and probabilities, things are wildly in flux. There is still an enormous component of humanity that is completely unaware of what appear to be provable truths: the virus was manufactured, and is in fact a bioweapon. The covid response, including the vaccines, was engineered to harm, not help, humanity.
And it was all in aid of the sleazy goal of stealing the American election in 2020 and putting forward a New World Order to the detriment of the masses and the benefit of the very, very few.
None of that is news to most of us reading this. We are, to a large extent, already anchored in what we perceive as truth: election fraud is being irrefutably revealed, and many truths that we’ve been absorbing for over a year are being made more widely visible.
But others who don’t have an anchor here yet, who are still stuck in the spider tube, are waiting to be shaken out by the force of realities being revealed. They’re going to be booted into the new truths whether they try to cling to the old, or not.
It seems my best option right now, in the very small realm I inhabit, is to be the kindest possible waker-upper I can be. To shake the spider out of the tube as gently as can be. And try to make sure it lands on a fluffy bloomed-out cushioning plant, not the unforgiving cement walkway.
If a soft landing is possible, I’ll do my best to make it so. But if people refuse to be directed gracefully toward truth, if they cling tenaciously to the old lies, I will need to let them land where they may, knowing I have done all I could to provide the cushion and point them toward it.
Ah, sovereignty. A bittersweet, but necessary, state to inhabit.