I remember…
I woke up to this thanks to my travels with GevaAnn, who speaks the voices of consciousness from all of life. I heard the stones speak. Together we realised that crystals were consciousnesses as individuated as you or I or anything. And we met them that way. Then I traveled to caves one day and heard what the rock beings there had to say, after I lay down and melted into them and heard the music of the earth, playing in their chambers.
I saw their place in and outside of time. I danced on the head of a rock being in meteora, so connected to his dance I had to lay down flat on the huge stone dome of his head and hold on, because the rhythm of his dance felt like it would throw me off.
I placed my hands on the stones of a wall and let my feelings extend all the way into them. And I felt the stone melt and flow, like liquid and knew it also was. That nothing solid was ever static.
And I sat on a hillside one day in contemplation, dropping into the earth herself, who showed me my own evolution, as a memory, felt and relived. The story of my becoming through her kingdoms; through her mineral kingdoms, then her plant kingdoms, then her animal kingdoms, then her human animal kingdoms, until I birthed into the human human.
Who remembers passing through planetary systems in my own evolution and growth. Who remembers coming from the beyond, evolving through the realms that are formless and yet have distinction.
Who remembers being the oneness that is All That Is. Being the inbreath and the outbreath of one consciousness. Breathing itself into experience.
Who remembers, this is just one breath.
Remembers the breaths that have been before this one breath. And I lived these memories, felt these memories, knew these memories to be what they are. One point of consciousness remembering its story of becoming within the vastness it always has been and always is.
I write this today because I’d forgotten. It seems no matter how much and how profoundly there is remembering, there’s as many ways of forgetting. That’s why I listen, why I talk and share and exchange. This dance of forgetting and remembering, again and again and again…
Lucy Hunter
© copyright Lucy Hunter 2020