As we move along the various paths the inner journey unveils, we begin to examine, out of curiosity or concern, the lives of others.   We seem to see them more clearly, now that out own delusions of grandeur have been modified by seeing the untidy and rather tacky aspects of the current ego and some of its past life cousins.  The lenses on our vision seem sharper, less muddied by the prejudices of unconscious judgements and more influenced by the discernment conferred by true humility.

     Yet the insights can be tough to communicate.  Knowing, through the experience that personal experience and concentrated research can uncover, that many troubling and maybe catastrophic circumstances, were likely picked out by that soul from the pallet of possibilities presented by guides before birth to be the major challenges, karmic or otherwise, to be confronted in the current incarnation. Major disease, debilitating injuries, the sudden shocking caving of a career, betrayals of friends and partners, suicides and murders of loved ones, – who can feel creative in the face of such challenges, and who can feel justified in pointing out the likely causes?

     Religionists will give the nod to God working in mysterious ways, or submitting to the will of the beloved prophet of their choice as being the royal road to recovery.  Materialists will suggest that picking up the pieces and moving on with self-forgiveness and determination will go a long way to rebuilding a shattered life.  Everyone will register somewhere on the compassion scale, hugging the victim, shaking their hand or holding their nose and hoping it’s not infectious.  My own decades long experience of chatting with the dead has shown me that scared-of-infection reaction.   And the current obsession with remaining ‘safe’ regularly reiterates it.  Safe from being sick seems to be the wish, but I suspect that safe from being dead is at the heart of it.  With suffering from back and joint pain and the accompanying addictions to opioids and spending the rest of one’s life in a wheelchair and the like coming a close second.

     For some of us on the inner journey, spirit reveals its secrets slowly, slowly enough that one can feel unjustified in spreading them enthusiastically.  Others, perhaps more experienced, and you know, cocky,  feel the release of insight outweighs the risk of insult and hang out as unobstrusively as possible until the right set of circumstances presents itself.  With such quiet confidence, one can sharpen one’s discernment and continue to do so as the opportunities arise.   Offense may sometimes be taken but careful retractions can smooth over the cracks.  It may all seem like a bit of a crap shoot, but it becomes less so as one sensitivities increase and one’s discernment more finely attuned.

     Some of the sleeping are ready to awaken.  As they reach beyond reason and religious dogma they can well use some casual friends without hidden agendas to bounce their emerging ideas off.  Just being there when required is a good part of what the inner journey is training you for.  Low key, lacking glamour and sometimes arousing ungrateful ire in the perhaps still grieving recipient, such a job posting is not perhaps the wisdom slot you’d earlier imagined.

     Of course, sensitively applied knowing from you the experiencer may only soften the harsh edges of suffering, perhaps opening the way for a more manageable melancholy, which in turn, may allow glimpses of the peace and acceptance that allows knowing to settle and the tender smiling face of the ‘lost’ beloved to emerge.  I say ‘may allow’ as the magic is never automatic.  Often we are only planting seeds which may only blossom years later.  As you know, we are acting without any expectation of result.  We approach and depart in humility and trust.  And that’s as good a place to be as any.