‘The sword of truth’
By James Anthony Curtis
Pain is the great revealer, coming forward to present itself in the most uncomfortable of circumstances, bringing forth once darkened parts to gain our attention. Even though it may seem simple enough, like when we burn our hand on a hot surface, or close our eyes wincing to the brightness of the noon day sun, underneath the surface of our sense experience, flows an intricate often enormous amount of wealth in transformation. This ‘wealth’ frequently goes untapped, for fear of what we might find, in the voice of the deep, calling out with pain as its advocate.
Often we turn aside, look the other way, ‘blame’ becoming a watchword for outer circumstances, and in our ignorance, humanity suffers, as we recoil in the sensitivity of each truth which lights upon the heart. But as all things work in an inclusive universe, if we turn away, our movement only draws us closer to that which exists in us, the hidden desires which hold dear our most precious treasures.
What an interesting discovery, that ‘truth’ walks hand in hand with our most painful of life paths, not only as pains’ confidant, but as its closest supporter, and friend. If only John Bunyan had written the mystics path, unfettered from religious dogma, what would he have said from the darkness in his prison cell?
So we move as we feel moved, some of us awaiting the edge, others in transition, each of us collecting what we need for our journey in wellbeing.
It’s funny how it goes, for even in writing this now, relief enters, as the vibration is acknowledged, floating ease-fully to the words upon the pages. Which leads yet to another door, in speaking volumes of our divine nature we have come forward to express in each incarnation. For if we are to blossom, unfold our wings, we must journey as we are called, each of us responding to the thunder within us, even as we may buckle purposefully in surrender; for death awaits no man, and works in cooperation to each creation.
So let us feel, dancing to the pain of each truth, granting passage to the music which life brings us, and if we must, with each ‘selah,’ form our own judgements, opinions, about the circumstances that surround us. And as every horror comes true, remember what we asked for, the shedding skin, as we gain upon each nightmare in full view.
It was never about ‘them,’ they were only participants, its your time, your dime, given solely for this uncovering anew.
Book of Horrors, Volume 1, “It’s your Funeral”