December 17, 2022

 You can’t say that the Divine doesn’t have a sense of humor. In fact, I’d say that the Divine’s humor is downright gallows humor at times. I say that because it frequently throws situations at us that are both laughable and heartbreaking. Today’s meditation was a case in point.

I have been residing in the sea queendom of the goddess I wrote about in the last entry. That was the deal: I agreed to stay and, in exchange, she let the soul of the young girl go free. So, it’s been a pretty uneventful week. I’m aware of being in the depths of the sea and being observed, critically, I might add. I get why this is happening; the goddess is curious to see what it is about me that is different, what it is that has changed since I’ve been embodied. This is part of a larger unfoldment going on among the old gods. They were watching what happens to those of us who become embodied, becoming human and mortal for a period of time. How are we different when we return? Is this a good thing? Is it worth the pain, suffering, misery and loss that come with being human? (Of course, being human is much, much more than these things but it’s the sufering that seems to get everyone’s attention.)

So, today I was meditating and minding my own business when I was visited by another god. And not just any god but the gayest of gay gods imaginable. His affect was that of a silver fox, everything about him was shiny, silvery white. He wore a silver fox-skin cap, a cape made of silver fox pelts, boots of silver fox. And, of course, because he’s gay, silver fox undies that were very revealing. His skin was brown, fairly dark brown at that. And his eyes were silvery blue/white. If you haven’t surmised from my description, he was a very stylish and flamboyant god. And over the top gay.

He introduced himself as Griffin’s fairy godmother (no joke!) and informed me that Griffin was not doing very well. (‘Of course, Griffin has a fairy godmother who is gay!’ I thought.) I got the sense that this god was similar to the one I have called, ‘Apis,’ the blue bull who also sometimes appears as a Hindu god with blue skin. So, apparently, both Griffin and I have protectors who look out for us and help us?

By this point, I’m kind of inured to the craziness of these experiences in the Imaginal and just sort of go with it. I could tell that Griffin really was not doing well, that the god wasn’t lying to me and was in fact very serious. And so I followed him to Griffin.

Griffin was lying inside the familiar cave whose walls were made up of bands of cobalt blue and white quartz. It’s a familiar place, I’ve described it before. There is a stream running through it and the bank of the subterranean stream on one side is higher than the other. To the far side, the ceiling has partially collapsed and daylight pours through. I’ve returned here over and over, many times since these visions began.

I found him lying in a pool of blood, his blood. His body was drained of blood, ghostly white. This is the way he looked when he died. (If you recall, Griffin murdered me rather than see me ravaged and tortured and killed at the hands of marauders and then he took his own life.) I’ve mentioned in here how the ‘bodies’ of those souls who have committed suicide tend to appear in the Bardo as empty husks drained of life. This is how Griffin appeared, although there was no black veil that I had to cross to reach him which told me that his body wasn’t dead. Rather, he seemed to be depressed. Very depressed.

Crying out, I straddled his chest and put my hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He didn’t respond. It was like he was a corpse, although I knew he was in there, just very weak. Suddenly, it made sense that he would like this. He had, after all, committed suicide. It made me wonder if those who commit suicide are prone to severe depression when they are reincarnated again. It’s as if the issues that led them to kill themselves in their prior life still need to be worked through in the present one. This can be a tall order, especially if one’s present life is already challenging.

Griffin is not me, although we share a common bond as soulmates meaning that our souls are inextricably linked. I feel his heart in my heart, feel his body in my body. We are distinct and yet merged. Because of this, he can’t keep secrets from me and I can’t keep them from him. But, because he’s not me, his soul has its own unique journey and this journey may overlap mine but it is fundamentally his own. Just because I have retrieved impressions and memories from my other selves doesn’t mean he has done so as well. At best, my soul’s experiences are communicated to his in a fever dream, one that teases and torments him without ever reaching full clarity. He knows I am part of him but doesn’t know it consciously…or maybe he won’t let himself feel it consciously? We’re in a Bardo of sorts, ghosts in each other’s souls.

And right now–whatever or whenever now might be–he’s in pain and he’s depressed and he’s overwhelmed and he’s hurt and he misses me furiously, just like I miss him. I fear that I am the cause of much of his distress. I wish it wasn’t so but there is nothing I can do about it.

Griffin’s gay guardian was explicit in his advice to me: “Just be there for him. You don’t need to do anything. Just be who you are.” And that’s what I did, if being can be considered doing. I just sat on top him, straddling his chest and staring down at his deathly pale face. I could tell he saw me. I was like a glowing yellow-green forest sprite, young and tender and nubile. This is how he saw me when he fell in love with me. This form is nourishing to him. This form gives him hope.

Nothing really changed while I was with him. He was still weak, still hurting, still despairing and depressed. I have no idea what will happen to him. It’s possible he may die in his current life if something doesn’t change. If this happens, does it mean that I will die as well? I don’t know. But, honestly, I don’t really care because my view of death and life has changed so much as a result of these experiences. I no longer view death as solely an ending. It is so much more than that, just as life is so much more than simply the life of the body.


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