What powers you really?
Hello, you. Welcome to December.
There’s this cute euphemism used in British real estate listings: Character cottage.
Sounds like an amazing, Instagram-worthy place to live, right? All rustic oak beams and open fireplaces, thatched roofs and wildflower gardens.
What it actually means is: This is an ancient, and therefore leaky, creaky, drafty abode, where ice forms on the insides of the windows in winter.
We don’t live in one of those. Ours is a relatively new build. And yet it, too, is a bit of a damp, mouldy fridge in winter time.
Heating fuel has always been a moderately expensive luxury here in England. In other years we’ve tempered the winter temperatures by running multiple dehumidifiers (Tip: It’s amazing how much more comfortable a room feels when the sofa isn’t cool and damp)—and then sparingly adding the use of radiators, as needed.
But this year is different, eh? This year, electricity prices are triple-quadrupling: It’s due to climate change. No, wait! It’s because of Russia! I mean China!
And the record profits reported by those selfsame electricity suppliers? Total coincidence, I’m sure.
Whatever. Aside from the further emptying of whatever spare change is still rattling around in humanity’s pockets, there’s another very significant side effect to all this. I’ve talked about it before, but I want to address it again here:
It’s the ongoing invitation to turn our gazes away from our own luminous (and infinitely self-powering) divinity…and onto our increasingly Dickensian living conditions, instead.
It’s an easy pothole to stumble into. Even when you know better.
One morning last week, as I was making breakfast, I noticed just how keenly aware I’d become of our power usage. Like, here I was, using a stovetop burner and the toaster. At the same time. Gasp.
Don’t get me wrong. Keen awareness of power usage itself is not a problem. It’s great to be prudent. It’s excellent to be eco-minded. But this wasn’t that.
This myopic narrowing of focus, this eagle-eyed counting of kilowatts, had started to become my regular habit. This was me, voluntarily squeezing myself down into survival-based smallness.
And it’s understandable of course. I’m not beating myself up over it.
But this limited focal lens had me hanging out in a lower frequency bandwidth than I want to be. It’s a bandwidth that automatically erases all higher frequency Knowing; a bandwidth that brings an amnesiac forgetting of my own true limitless identity. And yours.
And that’s a problem.
But hey. It’s cold outside, in most parts of the Northern Hemisphere anyway. So I suppose you might be thinking your own true limitless identity (and mine), is a bit of an abstract concept, in pressing times like these. That it’s nice…but kind of a luxury, when there are heating bills to pay.
On the contrary. It’s amazing how clear one’s vision becomes, when you remember who and what you really are. And when you do, it’s incredible how the power of life itself, flows in, and through, and as, your real identity in truth.
It may not pay the electric bill—or it might—but either way, it’s a form of power that nobody can mess with. And that’s where I wanted to be.
So I stopped cold (if you’ll pardon the expression), and turned away from counting kilowatts. And I consciously lifted myself back onto that higher wavelength of remembering what’s real and true, about you and me.
And from that holy frequency, I offer you this love poem. To jog your memory and mine, reminding us each, of what powers us really.
A love poem
I know what you are.
The real you, I mean.
The true you.
I know your magnificence
Your incredible
Pristine perfection.
Your radiant holiness.
I know your vibrant
Dynamism
That is the endless flow
Of Life itself.
I know it
In my bones
In my gut
In my Knowing
Beyond all knowing.
I know it about you
Because I know it
About me.
Or, wait.
Actually it’s
The other way round.
Yes.
I know it about me
BECAUSE
Your perfection
Is so profound
I cannot help but
Be certain of my own.
Because
They are
The same thing.
Because
There is no point where
You end, and I begin
On this sacred wavelength
Where holiness is.
This eternal wavelength
Where only truth is true.
On this wavelength
I have watched
The entire universe
Weeping with joy
Holding its breath
Celebrating
The immense honor
Of just being in
Your holy presence.
YOUR.
Holy.
Presence.
That’s right.
You are cherished
Beyond all imagining.
For real.
Do you know this?
Feel into it
If you like.
It’s your truth
And mine.
And FYI
(In case you’re having
trouble with that…)
FYI
Your eternal perfection
Cannot possibly be
Messed up
Tarnished
Tweaked
Or downgraded
By any of the goofy shit
You think
Or say
Or do
In this lifetime
Or any other.
Your weirdness
Your wounds
Your baggage
What you said
To your ex
That time.
None of it touches
The wavelength
Of timeless truth.
On this
Hallowed frequency
You are
Forever unsullied.
Spotless.
A gift to all.
On this frequency
Your luminosity
Your natural
Electromagnetic
Beingness
Is what powers
Creation itself.
You are
The very essence
Of peace.
Of wonder.
Of goodness.
Of infinite Love.
And yes, effortless
Self-generating power.
Twentyfour/Seven
All of the time.
Whether you think
You deserve to be
Or not.
You really have no say
In your own
Divinity, my dear.
Your staggering beauty
Is not up for debate.
It’s a done deal.
And trust me
When I tell you this
From my own
Long history
As a chronic doubter
Of my own
Infinite worth:
Try as you might
No matter
What you do
or do not do
You can never be
Unworthy of yourself.
As I wrote this piece, I glanced up from my computer now and then to gaze out the window (as you do), and two glorious rainbows appeared one after the other, right before my eyes.
And it wasn’t even raining. Nice.
Just letting you know:
As promised, The Fricken Map is Upside Down is now uploaded to my Substack, where it can be read in its entirety for free, as my gift to you.
Speaking of Substack, I’m mulling ideas for how to provide a regular gathering spot for connecting, so we can walk together through these peculiar times…if that’s something you’d find useful. I suppose that should be the first question: Would you find that useful?
If so, what do you think of a 1-hour weekly live space where we can chat via text thread? I’m thinking Mondays at 8pm UTC. Let me know in the comments below, if the idea appeals.
Stay warm, until next time.
Love, Carrie
peculiar times indeed…
Yes, a weekly chat thing, good idea.
Nice poem!
I really like the idea.... but am travelling for Jan and Feb..... so probably wouldn't have a chance until March. Thanks!