8 Years After 2012

A great change has entered all planes of vibration within the human interdimensional experience of ever expanding light. We are being called to inspect the meaning of the number 8, and its significance in cycles. For in unraveling your own cycle, you will know the cycle of the heavens and in so align with the harmonious energy of synchronicity at the heart of every star.

Are you finally ready to shine? Is it true that you have reached a lovely culmination point of transformation these past few years? If so light warrior, the numbers ask now, what will you do on your way to 10? Being the number of completion, how will you spend these next two years? As the world dances in this liminal space of change, what foundations within and without are calling for your attention and action in order to help them solidify as manifestations on the 3d plane of reality? Together we will hear the whisper of spirit and sing a new song upon the Earth.

I can hear the core of your heart asking why ever did it take humanity this long, and I know all of your answers are within. For humanity and its secret ways of being, are no secret to another human being. Shall we find the courage to walk away from our distractions that hinder our ever expanding light in all dimensions and planes. As we free each other from blame, and release guilt from our own hearts, so then will we be ready to be the change we have always wanted to see unfold in our world.

The veil is thin now. Meditate, pray, love, and guide those of us who are becoming new ancestors sweetly home with the song of your awakened third eye.

Everything in creation can hear you sing that way.

With so much love and light,
Medicine Sensei Kevon Simpson

Morning Meditation Message 28

Self-judgments are not the truth of your limitless being. Writing it seems, is an act of magical wizardry. So even if your self-sabotaging mechanism of poisonous thoughts are woven deep into the habitual pathways of your neurological mapping, there is still hope. Remember that repetition unravels the thread of forgetting. What have you forgotten? That you are already magnificent, whole, and complete. It happens to all of us from time to time, especially when we are at the gates of a transformation our soul is no longer asking us if we are ready for, a transformation it is pushing us through. And this is because your life, is not only your own. It is quite beautiful that we belong to each other this way. We level up as a whole.

A fear of evolving, collectively, keeps all of humanity down. So, in your tiny drop of a life when compared to the other billions, what is your contribution of inner vibration? What is your silent song? Is it all woe, or is there still some joy and hope in there, even when you look at the sky and the only thing shining is the fire of wars on the horizon. Can you be the sunshine by remembering why you came on a level of soul? If you are a being that recognizes all as you, then what can you ever cling to? You don’t have to hold yourself in a choke-hold. So where does this thirst for more come from? And why cling to mistakes made long ago, past the point of karmic re-balancing and self-forgiveness? The ego identity is not your enemy, unless you make it so.

A fulfilled heart flows through life and allows the sea of life to bring it that which it is in like vibration with. If you can feel how abundant you are, there is a part uncovered from within your inner being, where forcing things is no longer needed. Of course you will still have to work hard and thorough at times, but let not your work in the external world be more than your work in the internal world, because you would fail before you even begin walking towards whatever action you are intending to succeed at. Can you allow yourself to still feel vibrant even in the honest witnessing of what you perceive as shortcomings? Can you love yourself enough to write down things you like about yourself, and let self-love, and self-appreciation be the point of vibration that attracts what you need to you?

Or do you love the spirals of the roller coaster more than the manifestation of your dreams? You see, if you love what you are intending to create more, then someone telling you to write it down, does not feel like a demand. It is an invitation to a key of the creation process. Because even the device you are reading these words from was once written down, your home was once a blueprint with exact measurements and notes, Mozart feverishly wrote down on napkins the music that would out live his days. Writing it seems, is the first place where what you are imagining becomes physical reality. It is the uncovering of the possibility that another set of eyes may one day see what was important enough to last. How can you say you honor ancient wisdom, and not write your affirmations, dreams, and goals down?

How can you say you are a creator and not write things down!? Even if what you are intending to create is a different version of yourself, have you written down what that looks like? You don’t write it, because deep down inside you don’t believe it. You don’t believe your worthy of the very thing you’re imagining. I can believe in you until my face turns blue, but if you don’t believe in you enough to receive the keys that are being shared, you will not evolve.

And you can read all the ancient mysteries and feel quite wise, but can you say things in your own words like: Writing was good enough for Thoth, but not you?

The people that will come to you, will need to hear and read it in your own words.

We have no more time for pretense, and fear. We are being called to create a new world by tasting the idea, writing it down, then going back into the deep meditation process and visualizing/feeling it into being. It can be quite simple, but know that the order is not carved into stone, but treat the pieces like they are. The trick is that you have to do it in the Gamma brain wave frequency. The emotional key to the gamma waves is compassion. The key to creation, is caring about others compassionately, being thankful for what you have, and then visualizing from that vibration what you would like to create in harmony with the highest good for all.

And so I repeat: It is quite beautiful that we belong to each other this way. We level up as a whole.

And so it is.

A Sense of Humor Doesn’t Age

It’s a thing you only gently notice in your twenties, but by the time your thirties come around and you see your first few gray hairs, in places you would rather them not be, you are sure of it, “Yup, I’m aging.” Though this fact has been true the moment your cells began dividing in your mother’s womb, something about seeing the wrinkles slowly appear, and your patience for certain things slowly disappear, solidifies this one fact: this body will not live forever. It can be a challenge to love something that you feel is betraying you through the inevitable passing of time, that we often see as an enemy, instead of a most cherished friend. Though, a gift these beautiful loaned bodies shall remain. From within them we declare so loudly what we don’t have time for, in hope for some reflection’s echo of agreement that makes us feel a little less alone in our defiance, the fear of embracing our death, on the horizon of a child’s eyes. In the last moments, the truth is, we have time even for the most annoying thing.

But who wants to grow hair out the ears!? I mean seriously. And where does the long nose hair really end. Why must speech slow down like knees? And why do I need glasses now? For the longest while I just thought, you know, “something was in my eye.” You want to know what was in my eye, a prescription, but I couldn’t read it. Life is one big catch 22, and rightfully so, it is how it makes you reach for and remember community, the people you age with and need. This knowing that 100 years from now, none of us will be here, makes you search for others that “get it” the older you get. What to do with this feeling of having a longer story than the younger ones want to listen to? Cherished eternal elder of elders, can you teach me?

In April of this year, our EIC community lost a very special soul that “got it,” and though suffering through each stage of cancer as we painfully watched, she made time to share long stories, and she made time to laugh full and deep. Sometimes all we would have to do is look at each other, and the comedy of whatever the situation was, was instantly communicated. And isn’t that what community is, that someone once a stranger, can become long lost family you can share wordless laughter and love with. That though temporary, life gives us these gems of memory to hold on to, these reasons to enjoy each breath we take. Reasons to reconnect with those we’ve stayed away from for far too long. It is as if we like to pretend that we are in these incarnations forever, and that delicious delusion, eases the gentle prick of each seconds permanent passing. We know we are leaving. We must make the time to see each other.

Blessed are those who notice the moments when time slows down for a window of miracle to be made manifest. Being allowed to say goodbye at the right moment, is a miracle. As she lay on her death bed, we sang a healing icaro together in the hospital one last time, we laughed together, the final laugh, the laugh that hides tears, but is still so sweet. I kissed her gently on her head, and whispered I love you in her ear. As I looked back one last time before heading to the airport to catch my flight back to Peru, I knew it was my last time seeing my friend alive. From that moment I have learned a few things, humor can never have a terminal illness, and like the beautiful soul light of my dear friend, mother to our medicine circles, a sense of humor doesn’t die.

This post was written in loving memory of Karina Rivera. Thank you for becoming a guardian, a guiding spirit, an ancestor. Thank you for being a most wonderful friend. The soothing sound of your joyous laughter, fills my heart today.

With Love,
Kevon

Womankind 

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Scrambling to find the maps hidden in medicine songs we sing in tongues unfamiliar. Earth quaking beneath feat, as if history wants to shake lose the lost notion of itself. Something buried wants to be remembered by us all, and screams through the rumbling, the crumbling of all that seemed so permanent. Firmament sparkling dew drops so few, yet in each one my face a reflection of you. A point on Indra’s Web trying to learn how to read the wind again, a global back turned to spirit fueling hurricaned ends. Canned goods and donations that won’t ever make it to every starving hand, and the band plays a beat to an old familiar tune, until all hears the music of love’s everlasting boon.
Speakers more portable than hearts, and violence more aimed than darts. Landfills filled with more food than carts, and the disenfranchised everywhere homeless in every single part.

And we hurry to remember how to read the sky, before all the generations of lessons slowly fade and fly, as if to some secret place that can no longer be reached, except by rubber bullets, war, and teeth. Peace we say peace, humanity has yet to learn, it seems we have more power than any of us earned. To turn an ecosystem swiftly against itself, we’ve pickeled hearts in jars and put them up on the shelf, so that we may know the contents of blood from microscopic view, and still be left in wondrous awe knowing not what connects me to you.

Can you please play the music that comforts unspeakable woe, wire case ancient reminders to rekindle conscious flow, cosmic net catching light from galactic edge, trimming and expanding mind to make perfectly shaped hedge, but not like foodless and fruitless lawns all across the world, but the kind that kisses vanity until its confusion untwirls, from every single third eye covered so deep in bind, so that where it sees a cage becomes seed of limitless mind.

And how is it that tomorrow still comes when hope is all but gone, and where does forbearance come from when one fiber short of strong, and who can we count on when the walk is just too long, and who orchestrated such beauty played on my inner ear as song.

Something so unspeakable, but see here she shines, it’s the arrival of the Divine Feminine to free womankind.

What To Do When ‘Role Model’ Picks You

“I didn’t sign up to be anybody’s role model” – Some Free Spirit

Sound familiar? Hey there free spirit, yeah you. What did you think following your dreams passionately to completion was going to do ? How could you have ever made the mistake of thinking that no one was paying attention to the starlight falling from your eyes? How could you be so amazing and miss that you are like the sky another heart looks up to as it lays on the grass feeling the peace of a summer breeze your words travel upon? In a world designed to trap and conform, how dare you believe that no one saw you rattle the cage open with your bleeding teeth and bare hands? How in the world are you still smiling after all that? Hats off to you my friend, with the soul light that nothing can tarnish.

It is time to embrace the next level. And this will mean accepting the mask of role model. Know that the mask weighs both a ton and is as light as a feather. Know that the world will demand that you walk on water with joy, we live through your brave attempts with no fear of appearing foolishly nieve. The way you breathe under water is so inspiring that see here, feathers have grown where rib cages used to be, and with those that have fallen from your heart – I have collected ever so carefully. I use them to sage another’s frown until it becomes a smile.

Sometimes I tell them how afraid you were to leap off the edge, you know, but not to like…embarrass you or anything, but as if to say “Proof!” In a world where so many do not believe in who they are, you are like a diamond to me, to us all, and you can’t stop now because it is only, the beginning. Reward? Ha! This is not about you silly, it’s about us. Purify your intent, under the mask if you must, because we already believe in you, and no mistake you have made that allowed unworthiness into the vibration of your being, is stronger than Love.

This Is A Call To Action. Respond, knowing fully that you are supported by all that is.

 

The Shadow Behind Shadow

SHAMANAs the whispy shadows escaped the bedroom, and across the ceiling, they landed in the auric field and mind of the person in the room experiencing a the most debilitating level of fear, shame, guilt, and self-hate in her life. For what else can develop in the heart of a person everyone else is trying to “fix” without first acknowledging their role in creating an environment, a psychic field of judgement pumping through the bioelectromagnetic waves of the heart? There are no such things as walls in the deeper levels of shamanic work. One is only able to cure by the result of the darkness they have faced inside their own hearts, and overcome.

The path is not an easy one because it can mean seeing and feeling things about, people, and places you’d rather not, things that would make another go mad if they are not steadily prepared over time. For example, as I was in the peak of a journey in the apartment where I was almost choked to death, I saw something I would never forget. You see, I wanted to get to the “root” of things, the hows and whys of such a disastrous unfolding in my life that happened a mere three days before I had to guide my own community into deeper healing visionary states. Understand, that if shamanic work is truly your calling, the sharpening of your sword in the fire of life is ceaseless, we have somewhat mistakenly named such moments, tests.

That night, the ocean had nothing on my tears, so infinite were they, that I knew not the power of the light anymore and sobbed until my body became limp with exhaustion. Then with my eyes closed, I saw with the eye inside, a being of ghastly geometric whirling patterns of light that had a joyous face as it hungrily drank my sorrow filled tears with exquisite delight. Immediately my sorrow was replaced with frightful disgust, my tears stopped like a car at a red light with a police camera. The thought that my sorrow was feeding a thing that I on a daily basis was not even aware of, was beyond perplexing, for it layed there in an ocean of sorrow feeding on the entire building. Thus I saw, from the visionary plane, that it was time for me to leave that neighborhood entirely.

If you read these words wondering if what I saw was real or not, the point has flown completely over your head. It is what we do with the visions that matter. It is how we integrate the messages of light and shadow that matters. Anyone can see something, cool, alien, spooky, or magical, but only the responsible travelers can turn it into something useful here and now.

So, as the whispy shadows escaped the bedroom and into the mind and auric field of the young lady we were called to serve, the importance of Palo Santo, Mapacho, Sage, and Lavender were made clear, for we had none of it and the cleansing work became extremely difficult without our tools. Still though we had, the most important tool of all, brave unconditional loving, and compassionate hearts. Rainbow warriors, take from this that even with your hands empty, the magic can still work. You, beloved, are the medicine, but for the love of all that is on your side, bring your damn tools to the ceremony.

Okay?

Celestial Palms 

The tops of the tall trees applauded their wind filled leaves, and as butterfly nets, we gathered the words to open the other’s heart out of thin air. Tongues flapping as translucent wings kissed by constellation starlight’s grace. We spoke of the sky, tried to be as giving as the sun. Warm.

He said to me “You are an explosion of joy.” Then I began to ponder, perhaps the sun thinks itself to be cold. Perhaps it is the vastness, the distance between bodies, that alters perception. Confuses one long enough to not see how they shine in the hearts and minds of others. Perhaps the sun thinks itself to be cold –

and you know, just sits there, giving life to dreams hiding behind secret shadows full grown, by stepping across the horizon of a despair filled mourning, singing to the moon. 

And just maybe the moon thinks itself to be a bright shining star. Unaware that its body is borrowed, it fashions itself to be the brightest light in the night sky. 

Shhh. Please don’t break her illusion, don’t wake the moon up anymore than you would yourself. Her lips sing symphony keys that demystify the water labyrinth, and turns doubt into a mist over a lake by morning. 

And what is transformation, but a gentle release of a swiftly forgotten ember from the camp fire. Where the souls of nature spirits dance as cold stars, finally remembering who they are. 

Kevon Simpson 2017

Midwife of Secrets

Words are written
all the way inside
on the back corner
of my heart.

It’s not even,
off-balance it is,
not written,
to confuse you.

You will wonder
just why it was carved
that particular way
on such ageless stone.

Far enough in
each comes to see
where I run out of paper
becomes the beating

of another’s barren cave.
The birth of a new poem.
Write it.

Kevon Simpson 2017 ©

Creamsicle

Orange has new meaning these days
tears that melt off of detained faces
they are not crying, they are changing states
a piece of the dream is moving across borders
from solid to liquid like science class
its just chemistry and math
you know
Nothing racist or personal,
and “we are all one anyway”
they say this loudly
in a way that makes them
forget the eyes of that child
The one who said
“I swear to God we have nothing to eat.”

Kevon Simpson 2017 ©