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Episode Twenty Eight, This One is Mine


If we get to live long enough, we might have the opportunity to pick up our younger selves and lay claim to them. Many of us enter this world with some baggage, our issues trundling within our infant selves awaiting their hour. Our society withholds some truths from children and many children are, at some point, left bereft with only their strange-feeling and often foreign appearing oversouls as counsel. Adventures are seized and we race ahead. Mistakes bob like goblins gleefully taunting us weaving shadows in our wake as we age. If our hearts are open to guidance or, at the very least, we are willing to be bought back from what bound us to other's claims of who we are, we can rescue our enslaved selves from the imposed projections of others and our issues. There is little value in an emotionally ravaged life abandoned to decay. The higher the vibration served, the bigger the treasure for trade in a life of abundant joy.


Thank you for listening.


Kolkata-in-the-distance Pixabay music by Razorbackgfx


Music: My guides sometimes speak to me like I am already in the future itself and it is often done through song. This song was the clarion call I heard as a youngster declaring that I would never ever be alone in this life. No matter what kind of moon calf I was, I would be able to live a full life, if willing. I felt it in my bones already when I heard the opening chords, given as I was to the pomp of a bellowing church organ. This, though, was a sound that had skin where religion only blew smoke. I may not have understood the words for cheese and crackers but a knowing part of me saved my place and waited...as oversouls are wont to do. I grew into those ears. I learned to listen.




The original post in this series of poems by Hafiz can be found here.

The Gift: Poems by Hafiz and translated by Daniel Ladinsky can be purchased here.














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