When I walk, butterflies proceed before me, as I ride my bike, during these rainy days, when I get ready to go to my job, the rain stops, when I arrive at my job it starts, when I get ready to ride home it stops and when I arrive home it starts. All is beautiful, all is becoming more harmonious.
Seeds were scattered in India to some. Specifically, Mohammad, Ori, and Christian and the Iranian born, now Canadian young woman. India gave me yoga; India gave me Sri Aurobindo.
Another seed that had been planted in this ground, so may years ago is now beginning to sprout. That which is the gnostic being and that which is of the sperma and that which is the igniting of unction for those who have filled their oil lamps and trimmed their wicks. I am finding that as my consciousness grows, so does that of the mainstream mentality directory. For last night, we went to see a movie that was about the Raelian religion. Although the mainstream consciousness is that which is like unto a trailer or train car, it can go nowhere without the, many to one, engine pulling it along to is destination. But the engine goes where it must and is concerned with its own performance and working, not that of the attached vehicles/cars behind for it has its purpose as other also have theirs. Yet that cart is never the engine for it lacks what it must have to be so.
The path is clear, the way is straight and narrow, but now the seeking and that of the finding is increasing the illumination of the light.