How do we mourn for six million souls when we are not even sure how to mourn for one? Last Monday, I lost my mother, Alice Daniels, the same day as the International Holocaust remembrance Day. Remembering every nurturing moment, as well as those corrective ones that seemed to shatter my soul. Even the most painful moments lived between us, are better than never to have had any of these moments at all. What remains is that minute scintillating light within me, a faded recollection of the ethics of departed mothers and fathers.
Within seconds of posting the announcement, dozens of condolence bytes streaming rainbow auras throughout my soul. From the strongest sapphire condolence desires, to the emerald intention of gardening my spirit, to the diamond gamma knife for irradiating my stony heart pain, and the scintillating ruby red love, illuminating the resulting star dust memories. Some light gets lost in the shadows, the rest guide the path I am driven to pursue.
Then I try to imagine losing ten, then one hundred, then one million, then six million holocaust souls. I begin to imagine the tragic losses, of brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, and even generations cut off from ever being born. A massive stony heart blockage of pain and rage that continues to attack us all.
I now begin to pray and redirect the inbound streams that have gotten lost in the shadows, towards supercharging my own intention for ionizing that blockage. We are stardust, we are golden, we are Wandering Jews planting our shoots, illuminating the deepest Adam and Eve roots back to the Garden.
These are the roots from which humanity sprouted and germinated and shall return once again. Against all odds, with the pain of the millennia, we would have built up the necessary resistance for tasting that once forbidden fruit adhesion with the Creator.
Monday, I lost my mother, today, we root feed the world,