Tiny flashes of insight erupt into my day in a most pleasing manner. The Aha! moment appears and I am thrilled, take note and wonder if I should write about it. If I think Yes I should but don’t immediately down tools and begin to compose, the insight fades and I am left with a bemused Well there goes another one. Maybe it’s laziness, maybe it’s all part of being semi-enlightened and forgetting to care, and suspecting that inspiration is like a grace which descends on its own rather whimsical volition and will likely land on some other writerly human in the next five or ten minutes somewhere between here and Sydney/Copenhagen/Osaka.
But today I took the time to scribble myself a note, and that precaution is allowing me now to rescue the memory and regurgitate the insights. It started, or at least appeared to gain its momentum, from a line in William Bloom’s Working With Angels, Fairies and Nature Spirits concerning the possible perception of tiny elementals in every blade of grass. In unfolding the vast range of devic/angelic manifestation in our world, Bloom can envision such a sparkling swaying ensemble and encourages the reader to attempt such a leap.
In contemplating that visual marvel my consciousness was lead, or so it seemed to the everyday Gordon scheduling his life with chores and pleasures, to an inner vision of how the ascended masters and monads can view the mass of evolving humanity on this plane of embodiment and striving. A swirling sea of divine sparks shrouded in shadow, some seen as submerged and others emerging.
In that moment I understood, or perhaps it was given to me to understand, that highly evolved consciousnesses dole out their compassionate assistance according to the rhythms of perceived need. The brighter the light produced by the frictions of striving, the more the assistance of light is offered.
We too, as students and servants of the vast divinity within, can offer our share of light to any members of the devic hierarchy. From infinitesimally small elementals in the sub atomic world, to diminutive elves and fairies, to angels and archangels. As Geoffrey Hodson pointed out over eighty years ago in The Brotherhood Of Angels and Men, and others such as William Bloom, Doreen Virtue and Timothy Wyllie have repeated more recently, we are destined to complement each others’ evolution, becoming, at some point, willing and conscious co-creators in a wide range of activities.
At this stage in my own journey I have ventured as far as inviting, or perhaps more accurately, accepting, the participation of the fairies in the creation of my back yard mini-forest and the kindly attentions of the rose angel in my distance healing practice. Some of my contemporaries, such as Jenny Smedley, have encouraged me to do more, much more, in the way of in-home companionship. In this I am making incremental efforts, the challenge being the much higher vibration of the house angel leads to the most delicate of touches and nudges, all of which can easily be dismissed as the fevered imagination of an old hippie essaying worthwhile pastimes in the inevitable onset of retirement. All this despite photographs having been taken where an orb-like presence, large as a thumb print, is clearly visible.
Whether you call it soul or spirit energy, every created being has a spark, big or small, of indwelling divinity, which no amount of suffering, passive or active, can successfully eliminate. Perceiving that spark in and around you is one of the challenges of the path, the endlessly unfolding path whose meanderings can easily convince the traveler she is hopelessly lost. We are, of course, holy fools on the way to nowhere in particular, yet we do carry that burden of divinity everywhere with us, and when we are finally exhausted by all our efforts and disastrous choices, that’s all that’s left.