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Personal Deva Stories 

Transforming the Battle

By Susan Beal

Do I dare
Disturb the Universe?
T.S. Elliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

A few years ago, the magician David Copperfield made the Washington Monument disappear. The magic trick was broadcast live on TV. I didn't see it, but I heard it was pretty convincing, and no one could figure out how he did it.

I live in Bennington, Vermont, where we have our own version of the Washington Monument-- the Bennington Battle Monument, whose virile silhouette dominates the Bennington horizon and, as it happens, all the views from the north side of our house. For years I have wished that someone could make it disappear, too. To me, the Battle Monument was no more impressive than a smokestack, and just as polluting of the horizon. Before my grandfather died and we moved to Bennington to take over his farm, we would visit Bennington in the summer. Along with patting the cows and playing Chinese Checkers after dinner, my grandmother would invariably take us grandchildren to the Monument. We would nibble on gritty maple sugar candies and walk around the base of the Monument, bored and unimpressed, and then it was on to Ho Jo's for a root beer float.

MonumentWho was I to care about the men who fought over the armory that used to stand there? I could have cared less that the battle was a pivotal moment in the American Revolution. With the simplistic arrogance of youth, I thought that all battles were just a lot of men having a fight and killing each other and it was their own fault if they died. As I matured, my understanding of the complex tragedies of war deepened considerably, but I retained my dislike of Bennington's insistently phallic edifice. It was, after all, "the largest monument to war in its time." (In fact, it still mystifies me that we humans love to glorify and memorialize our conflicts but rarely our cooperative achievements).

My father was an architect and loved to admire buildings. Although I shared many artistic sensibilities with my father, I didn't share his love of architecture. I thought of most large buildings, no matter how lovely, as monuments to human insensitivity toward Nature. The Bennington Monument was just one of the more obviously egotistical buildings.

However, a few weeks ago, a small miracle occurred, in which the Bennington Battle Monument did not disappear, as did the Washington Monument, but underwent an even better transformation. But before I explain that, I should put my initial disdain for it in context.

As a child, I generally disliked the human species. I loved my circle of family and friends, and certainly had great sympathy for individual people whose stories connected with my own life. It was humanity as a whole that I had serious trouble with. I couldn't make peace with the Sunday school message Jesus seemed to have left us with to "Love thy neighbor as thyself." My "neighbors," taken as a generic group, didn't seem altogether lovable. Humans seemed to be at the root of everything wrong with the world: wars, pollution, environmental destruction, over-population. It seemed to me that we stood apart from Nature, manipulating and damaging it with our technology instead of living in harmony with it.

I cried for the horses who went down in the battle scenes of movies, but was unmoved by the deaths of soldiers. I felt more sympathy for the field mice and songbirds tortured by our cats than I felt for the people whose sad stories made up the bulk of nightly news. I even cried over the leftover Christmas trees in the lots after Christmas, who had been cut down for nothing, wasted, their lives as cheapened and meaningless, it seemed, as the little fish and chameleons given as prizes at the state fair.

I dreaded mowing the lawn, seeing terrified bugs and toads and little moths fleeing out from under the blades, the bright dandelion's heads and the grass itself torn and ripped, all subjected to the horrid destruction and noise and stink of the mower. I regarded most machinery with equal mistrust, and yet, I had a sense of sympathy toward it, too. I felt sad for old, broken things. While I would never lavish the same kind of care on them as I did on the injured little creatures I rescued from the cats, I did feel that ill-used or carelessly discarded machines and other objects were somehow wronged, and deserving of more respect than the junk heap. After all, machines were servants of human desire and therefore as vulnerable to human caprice, in their way, as animals and Nature.

What it boiled down to is that I felt terrible guilt at the effects of humanity's attempts to make itself at home on planet Earth. I wondered if we belonged here, or if the world might not be better off without us constantly experimenting, tweaking, manipulating, and, so often, getting it wrong. I wondered if Prometheus ever felt guilty for bringing fire to Earth.

The thing is that we are, essentially, creator beings. Our creative capacity-- our enormous creative potential-- is both our greatest blessing and our greatest curse. We are born with big brains and opposable thumbs.

I must have understood, early on, the discomfort that comes with this power. When I was little, so the family story goes, I scribbled on the living room wallpaper in green crayon. When confronted with it, rather than admit or deny it directly, I said, "The hands did it!" I said it, I suspect, with a mixture of fear and admiration. Depending on the reaction that followed, that moment probably marked the beginning of my over-identification with the down side of the creative impulse.

As we mature, most of us come up with more sophisticated strategies for how to deal with the uncomfortable bind between denial of our power and guilt at what we have wrought. The easiest way to cope with the more monstrous examples of human inventiveness is to formulate a world view that assigns blame to some subset of humanity other than yours, a sort of socio-political version of the Not-In-My-Backyard syndrome. The groups can be based on race, ethnicity, gender, economics, religion, dental hygiene, or almost any other quality that you can point at and say "It's their fault. They did it!"

The problem is that denial and blame simply reinforce the difficulty in wielding this double-edged sword of creativity. Unless our actions are guided by wisdom and love, a lot of innocent bystanders will get hurt, if not killed.

In the many years since I scribbled on the wall, I have come to regard my own kind with far more compassion and acceptance than I used to. Although I was rather curmudgeonly as a kid, I am no longer. I have been the witness and recipient (and, hopefully, a source) of far too much human beauty and goodness to stay mad for long.

Now, back to the Bennington Monument. I couldn't stay mad at it, either.

The transformation occurred at a workshop on earth healing that Planet Vermont Quarterly sponsored. We had come together to learn about the relationship between toxic human emotion and environmental stress. Most people know by now that our thoughts and feelings have a big impact on our physical health, so it should be no surprise the health of our environment is affected by our emotional output, too. Using a combination of dowsing, meditation, energy work and Findhorn-like communication with angels and nature spirits, we set about to "heal" any imbalances or stresses that we might find around Bennington. we started with the Monument.

The whole idea of this approach is that is assumes recognition of a full partnership between Humanity and Nature. It also assumes a willingness not only to take responsibility for our mistakes, but for fulfilling our potential as creative beings. It does not work if you think that people are the bad guys and Nature, angels, animals, fairies, etc. are the good guys. Nor does it work if you think that humans should devolve back into creatures without opposable thumbs and keep their hands off of everything. That would not be a partnership. In other words, it assumes you have worked through your issues over whether or not it is okay to move beyond the parent/child or victim/oppressor dynamic.

We gathered on Earth Day, as it happened, in a circle at the foot of the Monument, to begin the healing process. We called upon various angelic and spiritual beings to help us in our work. Each one of us present was awed by the sense of love and gratitude that seemed to envelope us we as offered up prayers and blessings to the spirit of the Monument, asking it to help us release any stagnant or inharmonious energy that it had held. We could feel the benevolent presence of the mountains around us, as if they were paying close attention to what we were up to. It seemed as if the wind was listening, too, for it swirled and gusted with incredible force in synchrony with our ceremony.

As we moved through the process, I felt my heart expand. I found myself reevaluating assumptions I had always made about the Monument and what I associated with it-- vanity, conceit, aggression, the urge to dominate, to control, to manipulate. Or even just the urge to leave one's mark. I realized that my feelings about the Monument simply betrayed my discomfiture over the power humans have to create and destroy.

Now when I see the Monument, I am reminded of the joy and goodwill we generated that day. It has become, for me, a symbol of the awe-inspiring power for good that happens when we heal the rift we imagine exists between us and the rest of Creation. It is a beacon of partnership rather than battle. Obviously my attitudinal shift didn't happen all at once because of the workshop. Monumental (yes, pun intended) shifts like this are usually the result of minute, cumulative shifts in perception, tentative movements in a new direction. But sometimes the shift crystallizes around a certain particular event, and, in this case, the event was the healing ceremony at the base of the Monument.

It is true we have inflicted Nature, including ourselves, with wounds. In learning how to swing that double-edged sword I mentioned earlier, it is inevitable that we will draw blood. We are going to make mistakes, but that is no reason to be overly impressed with or dismayed by our power. It is a good reason to accept the help that seems to be waiting in the wings, so to speak.

The Archangel Michael is often depicted with a blazing sword of blue light, with which he slashes away illusion. For me, the illusion that was dispelled at the base of the Monument was that we have fallen from grace for our errors. The free will that allows us to err in the first place is what distinguishes us from the angels, after all. Sure, we might envy angels their perfection. But how do we know that they don't admire us for our creative freedom?

Article Source:

Ask and You Shall Receive

by Jennifer Vyhnak

As a new Geobiology/Earth Acupuncture Workshop facilitator, I was experiencing some really big challenges, or 'opportunities' one particular day. A number of things felt like they were eating me alive that Saturday afternoon, 12/11/99. I felt I was not moving ahead quickly enough with my studies for this new, exciting work. Also, I had had a very recent challenging shift in my relationship with a beloved co-facilitator, and that was quite painful. Finally, my husband and I were at the brink of either buying or losing our first home. So much to deal with on my plate of life for this day!

I completed my daily meditations and connected with my Angelic/Devic support team, as is now my routine as a result of our wonderful expanding work with the Devic Realms. With their guidance, I decided on a course of action for the day.

Alone in the house, I started upon the dishes that morning. Immediately I felt myself spiral more deeply into great inner sufferings. As I continued with the dishes, I began to pray out loud for illumination on why I was experiencing this intense suffering in this moment. I thanked Creator for the opportunities to grow, but I was beginning to get very frustrated. I started to actually challenge Creator, (I've never done THAT before,), and challenge my whole existence, feeling as if I had done something terribly wrong, and experiencing some sort of Hell Realm. That was my experience, and pretty dreadful as I recall. Dear reader, please see this picture, a suffering woman at her kitchen sink, talking out loud, praying out loud, singing out loud and questioning her suffering. This went on for some time.

Next I remembered asking for support from my Angels and Guides. Also, I wanted to know if they were REALLY there, so I asked for a miracle. Prove to me you're here! Come on, if you're here, PROVE it! First I turned my attention to the Interstellar Devas, and then to Archangel Michael. In a demanding voice, I asked that these Beings be present and show themselves to me, show me they were real. I felt I needed the upliftment of a miracle to raise me out of the intense suffering I was experiencing, so demanding a miracle sounded like a good idea at that time.

I kept asking and singing for a miracle, and this went on and on, while still doing dishes. Soon something interesting started to happen. I began to sing what I can only describe as an 'Angel Opera', complete with rhyming and witty questions and responses. It was a marvelous singing conversation, and I observed the situation with great delight, and really began to have fun with it, to get into the 'Spirit' of things. I remembered thinking I wished I had had a tape recorder nearby to catch all of what was happening, it was so remarkable. Then I said out loud, "So this is very interesting, an Angelic Opera... but I want a BIGGER Miracle. I want to SEE Angels... large and beautiful, with magnificent white wings... this is what I want!!" I was not in a mood to be easily appeased.

Then somewhere in all of this great drama, an idea literally 'popped' into my head, and it was, "You ARE an angel, being both a human angel and an angelic human. Furthermore, all people are angels, and not all people remember this. But all humans are angels." Wow, now that was a piece of good news, and THAT appeased me. I then asked my Guides, "With whom am I to share this whole happening?" At the time of this experience, I got that I was to tell Rich Dube, Pam Manning, Christan Hummel, and Diana James about this experience, as well as my local Burlington Geobiology/Earth Acupuncture Support Team. Most recently I received that I was to submit this story to Christan for the Deva Stories book.

This amazing experience and the messages that came with it were such a Blessing. It took my intense suffering to get my attention and to receive this gift of good news. Talk about the Phoenix rising out of the ashes! From this incredible experience I was reminded that I am not alone, that there is wonderful loving support all around me, just for the asking, also, I was reminded that everything that happens, no matter what, contains within it what is needed for the next step, so Keep the Faith!

Everything is part of the Divine Plan, no exceptions!

Submitted With Love,
Jennifer Vyhnak

Jennifer is an international Geobiology workshop facilitator.

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