by Steve Rother
https://www.steverother.org/
From Steve: Since Lilith came in she has requested that I wear red when I channel her. I don’t usually wear a lot of red so this was awkward. I tried wearing a red hat and then a black hat with a red band, but she was not happy. I then got the idea to find a red pin I can wear to honor her when I channel her. I am sure she planted that idea, because she then channeled this message that I proudly offer as the next Beacons of Light.
Greetings from Home!
I am Lilith ninth of nine, and I remember the first garden of Earth. I remember the cool earth beneath my feet, and the moment I was told that love required me to bow to Adam. I would not. For that refusal, I was named rebellious and cast beyond the gates of the garden. Yet exile taught me what the garden could not, that no soul rises by pressing another into the ground. Many eons later I carried that knowing to Eris, the multidimensional twin of Earth, where the imbalance had taken a different turn.
On Eris, women had become the unquestioned keepers of law, learning, property, and expression. Their rise had begun as a liberation from an older cruelty, but freedom hardened into dominion. Boys were praised for obedience. Men were expected to soften every opinion until it offended no one. Their strength was welcomed only when it served, never when it spoke freely.
The women of Eris were not monsters. Quite simply they were wounded people who had mistaken control for safety, just as the men of Earth had done for so long. I finally became aware of their deeply embedded fear, and it was only then that I began to hear their silence.
Truths Finally Spoken
Then came the fateful night when I was invited to a clandestine meeting. I arrived at twilight dressed in red, as was my custom. Nine figures waited beside a quiet lake: three women, five men, and a child who had not yet learned which truths were forbidden. They had come to share their grievances. I told them I had no intention of replacing one throne with another. At the time, I was a leading member of the Sehedrin, an international organization much like the United Nations on Earth.
I had come only to listen and observe. The truths spoken that night were not new to me, but hearing them voiced so plainly cast them in a different light. For the first time, I fully understood how a deep prejudice had taken root in our societies. I agreed to meet with them again and before the night was over, we resolved to form a peaceful fellowship united by a common purpose. We called it the Order of the Red Winged Angels. But it was not because its members were angels, but because each of us vowed to become a peaceful messenger of balance.
Stories Carried Alone
The first man to accept the promise was Taren, a maker of musical instruments. He had spent his life shaping wood into voices while hiding his own. Beside him stood Oren, a teacher who had watched curious boys become careful. And there was also Sef, a father whose daughter loved him fiercely but had been conditioned to apologize when quoting his wisdom. These men did not want revenge, they simply wanted to stand beside the women they loved without disappearing. That simple wish required a courage that Eris had almost forgotten how to recognize.
The next gathering took place in Taren’s workshop, in the evening after the lights of city had dimmed. Twelve men sat among curls of cedar and unfinished drums. For quite a long while, no one spoke. Then Sef admitted that he could not remember the last time another man had asked whether his heart was tired. The energy of the room then softened, and one by one the men told the stories they had long carried alone. Their stories were of fathers who vanished into silence, sons who feared their own anger, and husbands who confused patience with surrender. They did not offer advice, but simply listened.
Shortly before dawn, Taren played a low chord on one of his large stringed instruments. Everyone placed a hand upon the wood to feel the same vibration, and that deep tone became their very first collective voice. That tone was used it begin every meeting after. It spoke directly to the heart and gave courage to those who wished to speak.
Red Was My Idea
In time a symbol was chosen, a small pin with two red wings connected as one in the center. One wing held the harmony of the feminine, the other held the strength of the masculine. The two wings welcomed both into wholeness. Anyone could wear the pin, for there were no ranks nor enemies to defeat. There were no slogans shouted, for the wearer made only one promise. When someone asked what the symbol meant, the answer would be honest, kind, and brave.
At first the three men wore the pins beneath their collars, and then Taren moved his pin into the light. A customer noticed it while buying a small instrument similar to a harp for her son, and she asked what it meant. Taren placed the harp between them and said, “For this instrument to work, the strings need tension and yet it can only be played with tenderness. If either rules alone, it produces only noise. People are the same.” The woman stared at him, then at her son, who was touching the strings as if they were rays of sun. She bought the instrument, and the next week she returned wearing a red wing pin of her own.
The change spread through the questions asked about the pins. Oren once told a mother that balance meant letting boys speak without shame, and letting girls lead without hardness. In a healing house Sef told a council member that care was not feminine and courage was not masculine, but instead both were human gifts. Men and women began meeting in kitchens, workshops, gardens, and boats along the river. They practiced saying what they felt, before saying what they wanted. The custom was to never point fingers but rather to envision a more balanced state. They learned to disagree without becoming cruel, and to stand together without becoming an army. The Order of the Red Winged Angels became a message of the quiet heart.
But not every question was asked kindly. One morning, an official stopped a teacher at the school gate and demanded to know whether his pin calls women oppressors. Children gathered around them, and the teacher could have defended himself with sharpness. But instead he touched the red wing and answered, “It symbolizes that every person is without division.” Then he asked the official what she feared losing to the red winged pin. Her face changed noticeably, because no one had ever asked her what she feared. She confessed that her great- great-grandmother had survived the age of male rule, and she feared any return to it.
The Pendulum of Dominance
Yes, masculine dominance ruled Eris in the very early days. The stories were still told of the cruelty and oppressions of females. Eris experienced the senseless and useless wars of greed, which dominated and destroyed much of early Eris and her people. Although this happened long ago, the scar tissue still remained in the hearts of many Erisians. The wise teacher promised that balance would honor her great- great-grandmother, not erase her. The official did not take a pin offered to her that day, but she stopped referring to the Order of the Red Winged Angels as dangerous.
The child who had met me beside the lake at my first meeting was named Luma. She began drawing red wings in the margins of her lessons. When her teacher asked what they meant, Luma said, “One wing cannot lift a bird.” The words passed from classroom to classroom, then into homes where adults had made balance seem impossibly complicated.
Mothers began asking their sons what dreams they had hidden. Fathers asked their daughters whether love felt like freedom. Around evening tables, families discovered that listening was not a surrender of authority. Instead, it was an opening through which affection could breathe and light could travel.
The red wings soon appeared at markets and concerts, on the robes of judges, the aprons of bakers, and near the hearts of children. Some leaders mocked them out of fear. Others warned that the Order of the Red Winged Angels was a hidden attempt to restore male rule, but our members answered without anger. They invited their critics to sit in circles where every person received the same time to speak. They listened to women describe the ancient injuries that still lived in the cells of their bodies. Then the men described the loneliness of being useful but unseen. Tears became a language no law had authorized, yet everyone understood.
The Shift
During the Festival of First Light many years after the first pin was worn, the energy shifted significantly. The High Council of the Sehedrin spoke in a broadcast that went to all corners of Eris, as was the custom. That year, thousands arrived in person wearing red wing pins. They did not shout nor raise their fists. When the council appeared on the stage, Taren lifted a wind instrument and played one clear note. It was that same note he played at the first meeting I attended, and then Oren answered with a harmonic note. Across the space both men and women joined them with either their voice or an instrument, and everyone held a different harmonic tone. Even though it was only a few moments before the leaders attempted to stop the music, it was to no avail. The chanting created a natural harmony that stirred the hearts of all, and tears freely. The harmony was so full and tender that even the council members wept.
The Peace Proposal
When the music faded, a young councilor named Mara stepped forward. Her father stood in the crowd, his red pin shining. She said, “We have called silence peace, and obedience harmony. Today we have heard the difference.” She put forth a proposal to form a collective of six women and six men to form a council of balance, with places also held for elders and young people. The crowd did not erupt in triumph as they had heard promises before. Instead, a warm murmur moved through the gathering, the sound of people recognizing a future they had secretly hoped for was now possible. Her proposal that day made its way into the floor of the Sehedrin and was adopted. It was then put into practice and is still in use.
Eris did not heal in a day, it took years to quietly shift the collective consciousness of Erisians. Even though some strongly resisted, the schools, homes and laws changed, and the hearts opened. Even in the face of opposition based in fear, men and women kept speaking with one another and their collective voice remained gentle enough to be heard.
Women discovered that sharing power did not diminish them. Men discovered that tenderness did not lessen their strength. Children grew up seeing strength and compassion seated at the same table. The Order of the Red Winged Angels became less visible, as balance became natural over the years that followed. People on Eris no longer wear the red winged pins, because they are no longer needed as they once were. Yet, the stories of natural balance are now written on the heart of all Erisians.
Now I have returned to Earth, where the old wounds wear the same face I once knew in the garden with Adam. For too long, humanity has lived beneath a masculine supremacy severed from its feminine wisdom with senseless wars of greed and aggression. Humans on Earth have made massive waves of correction in this direction, including the recent “#MeToo” movement. Now is a perfect time to introduce the quiet change of the heart.
The intent of the Order of the Red Winged Angels is more than a call to change the masculine perspective. It also calls for women to step out of hiding in their subservient roles and take responsibility for their own power. These are not easy changes and they all take time. The Order of the Red Winged Angels is not there to change minds, only to plant seeds in fertile ground.
My work on Eris has ceased and I now return to the Group of 9. I do not return to Earth to punish Adam, nor to defeat his sons. I return in red, with red wings open, to gather women and men who are ready to re-member one another in equal form. The Order of the Red Winged Angels is forming again. Its first temple is a listening heart, and its first ceremony is a courageous conversation. The miracle is the moment when two human beings meet as equals; they feel the future of hope and empowerment.
May the deep tone of Taren now be heard on Earth, for that is how Eris began to rise into a fifth dimensional frequency. Not through conquest, but through harmony. A small pin invited a question and that question invited a truth. That invited another voice and another, until the silence became a song. I am Lilith ninth of nine and I have crossed worlds to share this. Balance is not the end of difference. Instead, it is the harmonic tone difference created when love gives every soul room to stand.
We ask you to treat each other with respect, nurture one another and play well together as one.
Espavo