G.O.D. in the name of all things big and small
I believe God is everything? That there are no words to fully express what God is.
There is no beginning. There is no end. I use the term God and the Universe synonymously. To me the universe is beyond time and space. It is limitless. It has no boundaries, it is the breath and the resurrection of seeds planted in the natural rise and fall of existence. It is a frequency with a magnetic force that expands and decompresses in flux with the vibrational influence of the environment in which it resides. In turn it influences the internal and external expression of both our unique and collective experiences. Therefore, we are not separate but united in our complexity of existence. We are timeless and only subject to the restrictions we set upon ourselves.
Therefore, as a little girl I carried within my soul imprint cellular memory of all my incarnations. Yes, I am speaking of re-incarnation but not the way you may think. Perhaps death is one of our most feared experiences because it is one of the last memories that is imprinted in our spiritual DNA = Divine, Neuron, Activation before we become the dense frequency of matter we are now.
I believe that our DNA and Cellular Memory are made of our own vibrational imprints as well as those of our parents. Our lineage. Past, present and future. We are a melting pot of energetic soup. Each soul vibration overlapping and entwining.
I believe we all do this. Move in and out of timelines at any given moment when the veil between our multi-dimensional selves is thin and the magnetic pull of an emotionally charged experience launches like shrapnel among the echoes of our spiritual consciousness. Tearing through the fabric of time and space so that we in the now find it difficult to differentiate the root cause of such terrors we have no conscious framework to hang the blame and the shame on.
To me this explains how I have feared things that I could not explain. Fears entrenched within my psyche. Why as a little girl when I lay my head on my pillow I could I see faces on the wall, men’s faces, short dark hair, one with a moustache, one without. I can see them now as I’m writing this. The second I put my head on my pillow I could hear the drumming of marching in my head. The tighter I squeezed my eyes shut the louder the marching became as the dust flew in the cool air and the booted feet thundered behind my closed eyelids. My heart raced and I feared I’d never wake in the morning a metallic taste choking off my cry. My pillow wet beneath my cheek. How could I have had such an overwhelming “paralyzing fear” at such a young age, vivid images imprinted in my memory had I not had some kind of “other experience?”
