It’s May 21, 2013, and I am in a land that worships time.
London, (or fortress ruler), where time is strictly enforced.
Ironically, yesterday, my nose led me to the British Museum where I instinctively walked right to the Mayan exhibition. I was instantly transported back to Yaxchilan, in Chiapas Mexico.
Here I was able to appreciate the lintels that were missing from the ancient Maya ruin. It seems that the experience made my visit to Mexico complete.
Do you think I was surprised? Here in the land of 12-60, where un-natural time was imposed on the masses, as they worship their clocks, like Big Ben.
In the next room, the native North American relics seemed to bring it all back home for me, and I felt a certain kinship with all the people of the tribes of my homeland. Just a bit earlier in the year, I was able to enjoy the land of the Pueblo indians as well as the tribes of the Northwest.
After returning energetically to London, the museum blessed me by transporting me to places I’ve always dreamed of going, but never gave myself permission, like Bali, India, Greece, Cyrpress, China, Japan and Egypt.
My travels include seeing some of the things that the tourists typically enjoy, but mainly my work involves blessing people by removing all the illusions that I’ve placed on them. This is a unique and extremely subtle form of forgiveness taught by the Course in Miracles.
It seems that when I do my job well, it results in others experiencing a certain freedom that’s hard to explain, and yet, seems to lead back to an innocence that is a re-claiming of our inheritance. The combination of truths including the idea that all minds are joined, and that my thoughts have affects is at the foundation of the teaching. Further, as I release others in my mind, I am setting them free, and though in an extremely subtle form, the message is conveyed, and innocent joy returns, not only to my mind but through the shared mind to all others.
It is this principle that allows the miracle to extend through the Sonship.
Seeing Shiva Nataraja dancing on the demon of ignorance seems to mystically give it complete credibility.
But somehow, the image of a Greek ruler on an Egyptian casket left me feeling odd.
In one of the rooms, where the sculptors of Rome seemed to over-populate the room, even without the throng of tourists, the majority of male sculptures seemed to be missing their penises. I have since read a very scientific explanation of this phenomenon,