Running Fox Papers
September 2004 ~ Crossing borders.
Beauty is the steering force of life in
Mario Mercier's Angel.
Right from the moment when I was told as a young boy that I was born in an- ‘other’ country, borders fascinated me.
Of course I did not understand the meaning of borders then, for I was 4 or 5 years old. At school, during geography classes, that knowledge was given to me meticulously.
Furthermore it was a strange moment when I realized the fact that my cradle wasn't placed within the borders of the Kingdom of the Netherlands, made me – in one way or another – ‘different’ from other children in my grade.
Because I have lived the major part of my
life in the Netherlands, my feelings are to a great extent Dutch. My
passport also labels me as such, and when ‘we’ dig gold in Athens my
fatherland feelings emerge. Yet for me there also exists a kind of motherland
feeling when my birth country is triumphant during the Olympics. A certain
‘we’ feeling appears and all because of having been born on this or
that side of a political border.
Just like the thinning borders in Europe, the borders between the here and hereafter are thinning as well, and because of that we are more able to remember where we came from, what we are doing here, and where we are heading.
The following exercise can be used to soul link with others both on this Earth plane now, as well as those who have passed on. The Higher Self is the same, whether in physical embodiment or not. Oneness has no boundary, Love is everlasting, and Light Bodies link. Above all, have fun with this! Humor truly does pass through the veils unchanged.
Take several breaths, breathing in Love and Light. Imagine yourself sparkling as if you wore the garment of the Universe. Keep breathing.
Moving your awareness to the outside layer of your skin, feel yourself as you walk through the atmosphere, cutting through the density of Air as you go. There is no difference were you to carry wings or arms, for either way you cut through the at-moss-sphere the same way.
Speaking of moss, imagine yourself sitting upon a thick wet dense patch of emerald green moss beside a bubbling brook. Your hands press into the springy wetness. All about you are the sounds of nature. Let the feeling tones of forest green ooze into you.
Jopie Fransen - Molenaar
The last snow was
that with tender steps
Stone from Greece
On the windowsill in my kitchen lies a stone. This stone is dark brown and its mass is comparable to the size of a small hand. On the exterior it appears as if a rose emerges from the inside. On top is a circle with a cross underneath.
While bathing in the sun's last rays at the end of the afternoon one day, my garden facing northeast, I was considering listening to this stone, which I had brought home from Greece. For obscure reasons I had not taken the time to do so yet. Then one day a friend mentioned the subject of 'contact with your Inner God'. It was my intention to tell him that one could do so with everything surrounding us. Then all of a sudden I remembered my stone.
So I took the stone out of the kitchen and began to listen. The Silence came and converted into words. The first words were quite special as I was invited, almost ordered, to put on paper 'WRITE DOWN', and I left it as such in my piece.
I do wish you pleasant reading!