yeshua

13 Remembering Mary Magdalen: Family Ties

Dec 23^rd, 2003 Off to Utah for the family holidays. Anxious premonitions of my beloved Santa cup breaking. After 20 years of keeping them safe for my sisters, I tried to pack them carefully, but one tumbled out of the car, so I traded my unscathed cup for the fractured one. This trip is about breaking attachments, perhaps to things, but yet deeper, as Yeshua says, to what I believed my sisters to be. As I am coming to know myself as joyous passion I shall recognize who they are as love. So many sister dreams lately. Since childhood, I have flown in my dreams stringing them along like Peter Pan, barely able to get them off the ground. Lately in my dreams, I do not hold their hand, but try to teach them to fly on their own, but they resist. I feel tired, saddened. Will my sisters throw me out like Yeshua was thrown out of Nazareth? Strangers can be more accepting than those closest when you change too rapidly.

Dec 26^th, 2003 A snowstorm traps us in the house, playing games, memories abound. On Christmas Eve, I experienced the power of the loving-kindness prayer. The family gathered around my sister’s large kitchen island arguing about the Cody Bank’s rape charge. When the manner in which the victim dressed was blamed, I felt the urge to jump into the fray, yet stopped and silently asked that my fear be lifted and I be filled with light and love, then asked the same for each and every one of them. When I got to Kyra, she looked up and mouthed, “What are you doing?” “Blessing us” I silently replied. The tension melted. The brothers-in-law about to engage in fist a cuffs, laughed at another’s joke and all was well. This morning my youngest sister hugged me fiercely claiming she thinks about me every day. Lately I can say the same. I wish I could see beyond the possessive love in this family, the competitiveness, the criticism, the ego…especially mine—my ego is much too overwhelming. My muse is on holiday, but lots of purple around me, my aura brilliant whenever I close my eyes. Torn between gluttony and deprivation, defenseless in the face of my family without bulimia to protect me. Trapped in a house of mirrors. One: reflecting unforgiving close-mindedness, one: emotional, temperamental, quick to strike, yet a core of love, one: distant, shallow immersion, non committal, one: lost in a world of self, one: poor self esteem, critical of all, not knowing when to hold her tongue, my brothers-in-law, my nieces and nephews clueless bystanders, my husband supportive, policing my behavior. This journal my only escape…

10 Remembering Mary Magdalen: The Merge

Nov 13^th, 2003 I wrote a scene in which Mary wears the wedding necklace Yeshua made for her in Britannia and perceives the life force of those around her with such clarity. Always have I perceived another’s energy, smelled dis-ease especially cancer, empathetically felt in my body what ails another, yet as I imagined then wrote what Mary saw, my own vision became clearer. I can see energy about others, colors and shapes. If I write it, it becomes!

Nov 15^th, 2003 An insight keeps coming in—involving the merge. I feel more like the entities which I hear and see are merged within me. I can request their presence and perceive their guidance, but instead of coming from outside of me, they emerge from within. I feel happier with this level of connection than before, but my rational mind questions everything. It seems to be happening for me very rapidly, something that my mentors would comment on—the rapidity in which I would learn and then manifest. What took them years of struggle takes me weeks. I have always been a quick study, grasping difficult concepts rapidly, and jumping into what I believed to be the truth without looking first. I am impatient and tend to drag everyone I love with me. They become excited by my passionate enthusiasm, my colleagues used to say I could sell ice to Eskimos. I feast at the table of life, encouraging all to join me. I do not believe anything I am or have experienced is mine alone, but can be experienced by others.

8 Remembering Mary Magdalen: A Spiritual Healing

Nov 7^th, 2003 I spoke to my youngest sister to wish her happy birthday yesterday and after pleasantries, she said she needed to talk to me about her upcoming surgery. She wants a spiritual healing! This is wonderful. Perhaps it begins. If my doubting sister can receive me, then might the world? It seems like as I work out issues of the soul as Mary in the book, they come up to be healed in my life as Deborah. I certainly do have an issue with rejection, any criticism, any pulling away and I’m overwhelmed by sadness. When my loved ones refuse to connect with me, to talk or look at me, it is as if I have no mirror to my soul. I feel lost. Yeshua wonders why I can’t see myself. I wonder too.We need resources and while I keep trying to surrender, Steve keeps struggling and it gets harder. I am blessed that he talks to me, not only using intimacy to relieve emotional pressures, but engaging my mind. I shall cast myself into the fires of change, all aspects of me to be forged into a more sure self, alchemized like lead into gold.

Nov 9^th, 2003 The Harmonic Concordance ended well. Lots of change. Steve and I relived our youth with a delightful date. My meditation on the full lunar eclipse was in witness to the feminine energies of earth opening to receive the masculine energies of the stars, merging in the heart of humanity. Perhaps this is what I must do with Steve, be fully feminine, open to receive him and he will meet me fully. We humans are the portal of malchuta—where heaven meets earth, the lighter realities merge with the denser.

7 Remembering Mary Magdalen: Synchronicities Abound

We returned from celebrating our anniversary in Italy more in love than when we married twenty years before. My healing practice slowed down but thankfully Genesis Gold® sales made up the difference financially or we might not have survived my obsessive writing.

November 1^st, 2003 The insights are tremendous, releasing fears, misperceptions, experiencing the merge. Yeshua my constant companion, calling in the angels as I desire, the One coming in at peak times. I am truly blessed. I see the birth of the goddess in my patients, in Kyra, in Steve. The chapters keep coming clearly. I am well. Still I get thrust into the future book of political upheaval, but much yet needs to be recorded about our early lives, many lessons. Strange but our cat who has never been affectionate has taken to sitting on my lap while I type the story. Perhaps at 17 she needs to soak in the creative energies.

Nov 4^th, 2003 Another harmonic opening, on the last one in 1987, I conceived Kyra, my delight. Always I have found joy in creating this life, certainly there has been pain, but suffering is a choice. No longer do I choose to suffer. I choose to embrace the light of love. It is my relationship with Uriel (G-D’s light) that has propelled me through many lifetimes of sadness to pick the flowers of joy. As I awaken so does my family. When this book emerges unto the world, the souls who choose to partake of it will remember their highest destiny, overcoming the archetypal consciousness that binds the density of the world. This is a healing for all and yes, for you, my love Yeshua. You released your fears to reunite with the One, but left behind the sacrificial energy of martyrdom. The world has immortalized you but is veiled from your truth by fear. Perhaps through this book, the truth will be set free and you shall be free as well. You shall not leave me alone, for only in my ignorance, in my fear, have I perceived the illusion of separation. Bless your patience for waiting for me to come to this realization. I had a vision once of my guides and angels watching me with bated breath as I stumbled through my existence, but became tickled pink when I finally made progress. Just as in this life, the birth of my son was so traumatic—a result of our tumultuous existence that I had to examine our belief in sacrifice and suffering: Steve ready to martyr himself to save our son, both of us floundering to find love before emerging with an amazing opportunity for growth. Then conceiving our delightful daughter fully invested in our relationship and with her birth moving into a profound happiness, a new home, a new life. We have been together through eternity, both Jarys and Kyra fully cognizant of our connection, of a time before, of their profound purposes reminding me that when I was a child I too remembered the connection and through them reawakened to that which I forgot. Following two steps behind, Steve picks up the rear, holding the door until we are all safely through to the other side. Time to heal ourselves, our families, our communities and our world. No soul left behind.

6 Remembering Mary Magdalen: In the Mother Land

Oct 1^st, 2003 Venezia—a true sea city, complete with waterways, canals, gondolas, narrow streets connected by many bridges. Fortunately we never get lost for Steve’s brain has more magnetite than the average human. Yeshua teases (Steve rolls his eyes) that it is as if the creator consulted with Steve on the four directions! Yeshua’s always with me if I should ask, frequently initiating contact, I need not even be in serious meditation. It is as if my vibration is significantly raised to make audio contact, if I raise it further still, I’ll also perceive video contact, sensory contact is a given-that is just me. It was seven years after my grandfather died before Poppop came to me first in a dream. Then I would smell his old spice aftershave and feel the oiled leather of the back of his hand caressing my cheek as he whispered reassurance “It’ll be alright, poppy.” Once when the children were very little, I was driving them to see my family and had a flash of a car crash. Immediately Poppop came to me and they looked up from their books to ask what smelled so good.Sipping cappuccinos in an open air café with Steve—who’s not so keen with my casual communications with Yeshua—I must be more judicious. Can I help it if there is no silence, only music? My sense of smell even more acute, very sensitive to the European odors of cigarettes, sewage, and produce. Dank castle smells, eerily familiar, old tapestries on Catholic altars permeated with the dusty odor of worship and tears, the sharp odor of fear oozing from ancient walls, the cool smell of stone impregnated by many humans living in such close contact—it reminds me of back east.

Oct 4^th, 2003 In the middle of the night, I began to bleed profusely. Nothing I did would staunch the flow. When Steve found me in the bathroom, he was horrified by the hemorrhage but made the connection. “This is too early for your period. What part of the story are you on?” While he drove us through Ambruzio to the Amalfi coast, I wrote the birthing of Mary’s first child. “Does she die?” I shook my head—no. “Then, for G-D’s sake, finish it!” Sitting me on thick towels before my laptop, Steve wrung his hands as the delivery poured through me. And once I wrote that Mary awoke safe and sound—the bleeding stopped.

5 Remembering Mary Magdalen: Back to my Roots

Sept 25^th, 2003 Off to Italy! As I begin my ninth day in connection to all that I know to be true, we embark on a trip of self discovery. I am nearly ready to write Mary’s continued saga and spoke of this wondrous event to my rabbi friend who is excited to help recreate the story with a real Hebrew flare. The story of the goddess as the daughter energy returns to the earth, I am delivering myself as she. Time to follow spirit on this trip of few accommodations and no itinerary. I can hear my rabbi friend’s message to not forget to be fully present with Steve on this trip as I remember who I am now and then. There is no time. My writing is in pieces, but I have to trust the process. It now makes sense. With my fear is dissolved, there is only love, love is the co-creator. Through love we manifest abundance. My relationships on this earth are becoming clearer now.

Sept 25^th, 2003 3am in Rome, I am awakened from a dream in which I as Deborah am laying my hands on Mary Magdalen who is laying her hands on me, blessing one another as goddesses unto eternity and then all energies merge into one essence. I lay face down on the bed flattened by the sheer power of the dream with Yeshua comforting me, whispering, I am She, I am the goddess. I know the secret of manifestation. I am Joy. Like the hummingbird, tasting all the nectar in life. Turning onto my back, my hands clasped in prayer, I am surrounded by Archangels. Gavriel, I recognize as the one who escorted me as Mary into my womb to share the forgotten secrets of womanhood. Then Michael speaks from my right, reminding me that I also have been escorted by Uriel, on my left, from the darkness back to the Light of the One. Then I feel Rafael behind me fueling my spirit, challenging me to reveal myself to the world. Yeshua returns with the Divine parents. The Father speaks- I am beloved, he has never forsaken me, I will remember all but at this moment I am to live in the eternal now blending past and present into a glorious future. I can see the glory of my relationship with Steve as my beloved husband, and my daughter Kyra with her joyful goddess energy as a reflection of my own, and Jarys, my son coming into the world manifesting a blend of masculine and feminine energies as an experiment to know himself as divine. All my worries are lifted. I am asked to open my heart and to open my arms and invite in abundance. I am reassured that I will be and have been protected and held in the bosom of the One. I breathe in Yeshua as the son/lover/friend, then the Divine parents, who become all of my fathers, all of my mothers and I am whole.

Sept 28^th, 2003 Steve verbalizes my fears wondering if this experience is just an involved fantasy. Perhaps, but I believe all my reality including this one is a product of my imagination. Never before have I had a past life memory, although apparently I am open to the possibility. What I have read of past life regressions seem different from what I am experiencing. Perhaps it is like mitosis. The mother cell divides into two daughter cells, each containing all the molecular memory of the mother. Each daughter cell divides again and again unto infinity, but over time the original memory is transmuted. Perhaps I hale from one of the first divisions. Perhaps this is why there is so much detail in the memory, even in Aramaic. Only my judgment born from domestication into being human this time around threatens to taint the memory of before. Steve became frustrated with me when I hesitated to enter the Vatican, addressing Yeshua for the first time, “Come on, you two, we’re going in there!” I had such a feeling of oppression, great sadness, so much so that a guard took one look at my face and guided me to an open window for fresh air, before I could go into the Sistine Chapel. Steve feels awed in history, that time is not a line but a spiral, circling back and forth but this time in Italy, layers of history are being peeled back to reveal my truth.We are trained, domesticated into a belief system based on myth. Like the myth of disease, of death, of suffering, of judgement, of victimization. All these negative energies I see portrayed in later religious art. The art depicting gods and goddesses seems mostly a celebration of life—food, wine, birth, spring, the elements and especially women. Pagan symbols exist in the frescoes and sculptures before the misinterpretation and patriarchal judgement passed on by the dominating forces. More comes in clearly through the emotion I experience as I explore the museums. The medieval buildings themselves are enough to inspire a passionate awakening. The art pulls at my heart strings. The depiction of Christ seems an imagined mythical being. They got it wrong, yet who am I to enlighten them?

Awakening from earth amnesia, I remember being the goddess, identifying with the daughter energies. As the mother held the energy of the earth—the body and the father the energy of the sun—the soul, the son holds the energy of divine intelligence—the mind. Humans first worshipped the Divine Mother before looking into the cosmos and venerating the Divine Father. For over two millennia, humans have matured in consciousness through the mental stimulation of beloved avatars embodying the energy of the Divine Son. The time is ripe for the Divine Daughter. Infused in relationship with all—people, animals, plants, spirits, angels, gods, she is passionate emotion here to reweave the body mind and soul into Sacred Unity.

2 Remembering Mary Magdalen: In the Muse

The sacred feminine is not lost, nor is she forgotten.

She has been veiled by history.

Time to unveil HERStory.

My journey into the consciousness of Mary Magdalen continues…

Sept 17^th, 2003 Overwhelmed, giddy from the experience of writing the first chapter, I felt like I was not revealing a memory but living in the moment. I could smell the odors, see the colors and textures, feel the wind, the linen, the touch of his hand. I am being transformed and once again as I sit here to type, the front door blows in, the wind chimes sing, the birds chitter rapidly. A presence is here again which guides me.

Sept 18^th, 2003 What a revelation—on my son’s twentieth birthday no less! I awoke before dawn to liquid purple teardrops slipping through my consciousness. The purple is what I see when I meditate and lately has been calling me to be still. This time I associated the purple with Yeshua and we talked like lovers, old friends, companions. I am clearer now on the multidimensional nature of reality. Yeshua described how he can be here with me as Deborah incarnate on this earth, and alive and well in my past life memory. It is all NOW. There is no time. The entity of Jesus Christ was not the man—Yeshua. “You must present us as the human beings we were, I was a man first.” I asked why he doesn’t come in like this to comfort me, like with my suffering over finances. He said I could be so silly, that the security situation was being taken care of, as T…Steve pointed out, always grounding me. I got the immediate vision that my husband was Teoma. Steve had taken many lifetimes to be with me in this way, always before protecting the bloodline. Then Yeshua spoke fondly of my daughter, Kyra is so beautiful, “I miss her”…

Sept 19^th, 2003 So much comes in with Yeshua more deeply entwined in my life. Sometimes we are merged, most of the time we hold very human conversations, and more often his energetic presence is bordering on the physical. I feel rushed, excited, frustrated. The rest of the historical details coming in pieces, I strove for clarity in a text book all the while getting more confused as the dates seemed wrong. I could hear Yeshua advising me to put it down and just write. It’s so interesting that when I relax, the verse just flows in present tense, all my senses are attuned to the writing as I taste, smell, feel the experience. As I become more distracted and nervous about the content, I distance myself unconsciously by writing in the past tense.

Mary Magdalen’s Day of Atonement

It’s coming. Soon, very soon. Fifty days from today, the world will receive the gift of Mary Magdalen. And in our remembrance of her, Mary Magdalen will bless us with compassion for finally receiving her truth.

Since writing in Mary’s perspective, my womb is Jewish, bleeding on this Day of Atonement—Yom Kippur. In Mary Magdalen’s time, blood sacrifices were common. Hebrew people made pilgrimage to the Holy Temple bringing unblemished birds and beasts as an offering to the priests—the Kohanim. And in exchange for the life of the animal, atonement was granted for mistakes—hatta’th—made in that year. For the Hebrew year of grace begins in the fall.

So 2000 years ago, how did Mary celebrate Yom Kippur? A journey to the Holy Temple in the heart of the Judaean desert from the basalt hills of Galilee. Her family would stay in her grandmother’s beautiful home in Bethany just east of Jerusalem. Although the world knows her as Mary Magdalen, her wealthy family had many homes—in Magdala, Cana, Tyre, Bethany. The poorer Hebrew families camped within the northern walls of the great fortress city of Jerusalem, while the rich sought shelter in the homes of relatives.

Not all Hebrews could make the sacred pilgrimage, especially if they traveled to the Holy Temple for Pesach in the spring. Most could not afford more than a couple of pilgrimages in their lifetimes. To leave crops and livestock, crafts and homes under the care of another was difficult. So most Hebrews spent this Day of Atonement in quiet meditation. Perhaps they asked forgiveness of their neighbors or prayed for their enemies.

The trip was long from Galilee to Jerusalem and longer in return, so Mary’s family would miss the harvest festival of Sucot. The tribes still paid tribute to the goddess with lavish fertility festivals, blessing the next year’s harvest. Mary’s Tzadokim mother would not have her daughters participate in the ancient tradition. But after her marriage to Yeshua, nothing stops Mary from awakening to her sacred feminine truth.

From ancient Sumerian times, the years were counted from harvest to harvest. Tomorrow on the Autumn Equinox begins a new year of birth. The Great Mother labors to bear her most precious creation. Fifty days of breath, of hope, of tears…and the Divine Daughter will be delivered into our consciousness—on November 11^th 2007.

Open your heart to receive her…in LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter.

Mary Magdalen: What’s HERstory?

There’s History, then there’s HERstory…

What happened to the sacred feminine perspective? History has been recorded by men (or if by the rare feminine hand under a masculine penname) for the written word is power and men fear to give it up. Historians provide a rough framework, a timeline of political events highlighting the wars over land, the uprising of kings, a record of mankind—HISstory.

But where’s HERstory? The passionate details of ancient life, the chalice which held the blood of the people? Where are the women and children, the celebrations of life? The hard metal tools man made survived, yet the softness of women eroded with time.

Women have kept alive HERstory through song and dance. Watch the delicate movements of the bellydancer’s hands, she is telling a story only her sisters recognize. The sacred feminine is not lost, nor is she forgotten. She has been veiled by history.

My debut novel LoveDance: Awakening the Divine Daughter unveils the passion of Mary Magdalen with intimate details of Mary’s life with the women in the chamam, of her travels with zealots through volatile Roman Palestine, and of her secrets shared with Yeshua in the bridal chambers.

LoveDance is HERstory.