Weekly Reading Topic for November 14, 2020: Reaping Time
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: “reaping time.”
What follows is your weekly reading, dearest one.
Weekly Reading │ Reaping Time
Q: What do we need to know about “reaping time?”
A: When the farmer goes out into the field to reap the harvest, he or she brings a long, sharp blade. This is true whether he carries it in his hand, or she drives a reaper vehicle. Taking the harvest from the plants living in the soil is done with steel and sword. The plants are left barely alive, decapitated, limbless. They wither and withdraw into the ground, shriveling in their roots, barely putting up resistance when they are dug up later.
It’s OK, right? They give their lives so we may eat.
Yes, it’s OK. It’s the way things go here on Planet Earth. In order for you to live, many, many others must die. And in order for many, many others to live, you must die.
When death comes to reap our human bodies, we too are returned to the soil, where we provide nourishment for many other creatures. And this goes on, and on, for centuries, millennia, epochs.
Death/rebirth is happening all the time.
And it cuts, like a sharp sword, like a powerful whack, like the turn of a wheel of blades. If we’re lucky, we go under the blade quick, lose our heads as Anne Boleyn did, in a whisper of a breath, our eyes turned upward toward heaven.
This time in our year, this crazy year of 2020, is harvest time. Whatever we’ve planted the rest of the year up until now is coming up for reaping. And it will be difficult to leave anything in the ground. Once it’s ripe, it must come out, or it rots in the field and sows rot for the coming year.
So as you see things in your life get turned under the blade, notice — did you resist? Was it clean? Have you somehow known this was going to happen?
I know this sounds so grim, darling. But really, it’s not.
Because the bare, shorn fields of the late fall get covered in a warming blanket of snow, which blesses them over the course of the hard winter. The soil is protected from the winds and the ice. It huddles down and sleeps, resting for the great spring awakening in March.
You’ll see so many reapings over the next few months, and some of them will feel like Too Much, Too Soon. There will be literal deaths, and many of them, in such numbers that your heart will hurt. Please, stay safe. It’s not a good time to gather for holidays. It’s not a good year to decide to do that “one last thing” on your way home.
For every trip out of your house, ask yourself: “Is this worth it? Will I look back on this trip and say ‘that’s when it happened?’ and will I be OK with it?”
Be careful. With yourself and your loved ones.
Reapings will happen in every part of our life, in our collective and our individual lives. Perhaps the reaping will come in a different way for you:
- Finally understanding that this health condition is TREATABLE, and deciding to TREAT it.
- Realizing that you DO want to move in together.
- Realizing that you DON’T want to move in together.
- Seeing how a casual approach to the truth results in harm to yourself and your loved ones.
- Understanding a concept in new way, feeling like the scales have fallen from your eyes.
- Losing a shingle to a windstorm and seeing a bigger roof problem that needed fixing.
- Getting a degree or a certification.
- Finally starting that creative project after a year of wishing you had time.
I won’t even bother to list all the reapings we’ll see in our political life. There are too many, and most of them are too obvious to bother.
In short, we’ll see people reap what they’ve sown in both their public and private lives.
And we will reap, too.
Take some time this weekend and review. What have you sown? What are you about to reap?
And what should we do, if we look back on the year and realize we have sown harm, or lies, or misrepresentations, or half-truths, or anything else we would like to avoid reaping?
Go out in the field, my darling, and pull it up by the roots. Make amends if needed. Redo, rework. Don’t wait for it to ripen. And don’t let it rot in the field, either. It will only cause more trouble later.
Make the apologies. Remove yourself from the group. Leave the program. Say no to the invitation. Stay home, or go — whatever you need to do to balance yourself, do it now. Stop drinking too much, or stop denying yourself the relaxing drink. Stop eating, or allow yourself the comfort of food. Take longer walks, or bounce on the trampoline. We will all need to balance in different ways — so don’t judge anyone else.
We all need what we need, and we all have our own harvests to tend. This is the busiest time of year, when we take things out of the ground that will nourish us this winter.
Get ready to be fed, and loved, and comforted. And get ready to steel yourself. Stretch out your shoulder, and sharpen your blade.
We want to be ready for this time. We want to be sharp, alert, and knowledgeable.
Carry yourself lightly, keep your blade handy, and remember — only take your own harvest, no one else’s. This is not the time to point fingers or judge another by their harvest. It’s a time for clarity, for revealing. If you’re thinking about someone else’s work right now, you’re not tending to your own tasks.
When this time is over, we’ll feel cleaner, clearer, and, frankly, bone tired.
But also, lighter, in every way. This is a good, hard, necessary time.
I am always here to serve in any way I can.
Much Love to You,
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