Peace

Weekly Reading Topic for June 13, 2020:

Well, good morning, love! I just opened a Reading for you, my newsletter subscribers and here’s what I heard in answer to the following:

What do my readers most need to hear this weekend? What is the most important message to send to my beloved readers?

The answer was: “peace.”

What follows is your weekly reading, dear one.

Weekly Reading │ Peace

Q: What do we need to know about “peace?”

A: There are many meanings — and layers of meaning — to the word “peace.”

There is the still, calm flurry of morning activity, the spinning of spider webs, and the feeding of baby birds, the digging of tiny mice paws.

There is the space in the mind that opens up when we slip into Dreamtime, the endless realm inside our skull, the cosmos of thought and feeling that sorts the day and lifts the weight of the day-to-day troubles from our consciousness.

And there is the thing that hangs in the air after a terrible fight between loved ones, that bloodied, bruised, beaten down, I Can’t Do This Any More It Has to Stop feeling that overtakes us and makes our arms heavy, our heads bowed, our bloodied swords dragging in the dust as we stumble toward each other and lean in, tumble into a half-embrace.

Peace is not something that we fight for, or chase after, or swing toward. It’s a frame of mind, a seat for the heart, that is always there, right there, ready for us to touch back in, even if it’s been minutes, days, months, years, decades. A lifetime.

Peace is the father in the story of the prodigal son. The son has traveled the world, seen things, done things, fought battles and slammed fists, run and eaten and starved, and made friends and enemies. And the father, meanwhile, has been home, running the farm, putting away the stores, living a good life.

And that son comes back, expecting an angry word and a strong rebuke, but no, Peace does not do this. Peace is the father saying “I am so glad you are home. Sit, have something to eat, and drink, and then go shower and change, you must be tired, take a long nap, and when you are awake we will invite everyone to come and eat, and we will play music and dance and drink and celebrate your homecoming.”

Peace is always there, inside us, outside us. We only have to decide, like the son, to go home. And like the sun, peace is always there, above the clouds, shining fiercely no matter the weather on the ground.

The sun is shining fiercely even when we turn our back on it, the planet revolving and darkening itself until it turns, once more, to receive the warmth.

Peace is fierce and constant and devoted to … itself. Peace maintains.

In the midst of the bombing, there is a quiet inside. In the midst of the protest, the fists raised, there is a quiet determination that comes from peace. In the watching and the waiting and the alertness, there is a peace.

We are peace. We Are The Peace. And when we still our minds and listen, listen, listen, we hear peace speaking, we hear our peace calling us, and we can choose to return home, to eat, and rest.

This is an inside job, of course, not one that you can force on anyone else. Forcing peace on a people is not peace — it’s tyranny.

So if you want peace, work for peace, and first, start by finding your own peace. Whatever it is that stills the mind and clears the heart, do that — it’s your first priority.

Peace is a place inside the mind, it’s not a place on the planet. Peace descends upon a nation when we put down our swords and look at each other and see, clearly, that we are not the bad son who left a good father, or the mean dad who told a good son to leave. We are not the clouds that rain, or the wind that blows or the waters that rise.

We are not the fist.

We are not the gun.

We are the son that shines in the darkness and above the clouds.

We are the hand that clenches, the hand that holds.

And we can open, relax, and cup that palm, so that the feeling of peace is there, right there, for us, for our loved ones, for our friends, for our families, for our enemies.

A cupped hand holds the sand. A clenched fist loses it. A limp hand lets it all go.

Be the cupped hand of peace this weekend, and see what you catch. Feel the warmth of peace in the rays of the sun, in the smell of the meal, in the feeling of the paper under your fingers as you turn the page of your very own storybook.

There is a place in your life in which you always feel peace. If you want peace, Go To There. Now. You’ll need to remember the feeling, memorize it.

Give yourself that peace. And when the rest of us come to you, bloody and tired and dusty from our wars, be the one who opens the door and says “Welcome home.”

I am always here to serve in any way I can.

Much Love to You,

Molly

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