Everything of Value Is Formless

OK, I will explain why there is jello in this blog post. But first...

We are fortunate this week to have a solar eclipse in Leo. It falls in my ninth house which rules worldly wisdom and universal perspective. And this is a good thing. Because my moon's south node (my karmic past) is in Leo. Which means, I have a tendency (HAD a tendency) to be rather self-centered. I will be spending a lifetime harmonizing my love of being center-stage with my desire to serve the greater good. And as my sun is in Sagittarius, this also means, that, at times, I can be a complete fool (or a calculating clown, too). All to your amusement and my undying amazement. Because these personality traits seem fixed, I will use my life lessons, my foolishness, to help others.

I married a performer in this lifetime. He had his ascendant in Leo and his moon in Scorpio. His ego needed constant stroking and he loved his intrigue. I don't wish to offend anyone who has these planetary aspects, but the man was obnoxious. He was also an excellent entertainer, very witty (Gemini sun) and I loved him dearly and stayed with him until such time as my lessons with him were finished. I was exhausted. And now, he is on the "other side." Which is a good thing for him because he needed spiritual medication. Wine, women and song. But I digress.

For some many years now, I have been reciting this mantra from Mary Baker Eddy, as it was given to me by my entertainer husband who was raised in Christian Science: "There is no life, truth, or substance in matter. All is infinite mind and infinite spirit." Whenever there is a pause in my meditative thinking, it creeps in, and I restate it with conviction. I had only an intellectual understanding of its underlying principle when I first began to embrace it, but lately, especially now with this eclipse sitting on my ninth house, and with all of my issues over the material world, I finally see for myself what it truly means. I grasp it at the heart level. Once again, as I see my storehouse being depleted, I can only acknowledge what truly matters, what sustains me and everyone else on this planet: the formless divine source. I learn my lessons the hard way, but I do learn them. God loves the fool.

The jello. My father passed away in May 2004. Dad was a Taurian, which means he was all wrapped up in 2nd house issues (the material world, values, our feelings of self-worth). One day, near the end of his life, the family was ordering pizza. Dad was lying in his hospital bed in another room of the house, going in and out of dementia, hallucinating on drugs designed to help him. There he was, a crumpled mess of Parkinson's disease, unable to release himself from a fetal position which his body had slowly, achingly, forced upon him, reminding passersby that, "of course, you'll have to come get me because I can no longer drive..." So the family is debating who has the cash to pay for the pizza, and from his weakened condition, Dad calls out with enormous strength and determination to be heard above the clatter, "If you check in my wallet, I think I've got some cash in here." That was Dad. Let me give you some money. What do you need? Will you love me, then? Will I be worthy if I can show you the money? The fact that he even heard the conversation was something of a miracle that day.

A couple of days ago, as I lay sleeping, I was awakened to someone standing beside the bed who spoke my name. I hadn't heard that voice in a long, long time. I looked up and there was my father. I hadn't seen him (to my knowledge) since his passing. I was so happy to see him. I reached over to grasp his arms, but my hands went through his body. His arms felt like pillars of jello. That's how I would describe it. I tried again and again and could not embrace him. Seeing my frustration, he seated himself at the end of the bed. And then, I woke up.

I believe he showed himself to me because he wanted to be here during my time of financial stress. To "open his wallet" to me. When he opened his wallet, it was an act of love, but it never felt that way to us. That's because, in truth, it was Dad that was seeking love. That was at the heart of the love story that was being acted out. Dad was saying, "love me, please." He was always trying to give you money, even when you didn't need any. I was able to see this truth clearly during his lifetime. And I forgave him. I knew, underneath it all, he really did love me, but he could never say "I love you" without faltering, without discomfort, and he didn't show his love in the ways that I wanted. Hugging his adult children was painful for him. I finally had to coax the words out of him during my adulthood by saying the words myself, which felt so foreign between us. And I always gave him a hug. It was the healing that I needed. And it took awhile. I remember when he finally graduated from "me, too" to a full-blown "I love you." I was very pleased and happy for both of us.

And it reminds me once again of the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. I keep it posted in my home and in my heart, and it is the bottom line for me. To quote from it: "O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be loved, as to love." I love you, Dad.

So this Earthly life is just a dream, maybe not jello, but something similar. And what holds it all together is eternal and formless. This soul journey is an opportunity--a very important one--to grow in love, to end polarity in our hearts and relinquish the grip of separation from all that unites us. God bless you all.