And as we work through these Shadows… as we quite literally traverse the Underworld and learn to face what “haunts” us…
We also learn to remember that we are Divine Beings.
Capable of anything.
Loved beyond measure.
And capable of radiating Love Beyond Measure.
We are not separate.
We need not be afraid.
Trust.
A pure heart is not one that has never done wrong,
Nor is it one that is clean as the wind-driven snow.
A Pure Heart is one that SEES CLEARLY
what
IS.
@TruthRascalHQ ✨💖✨
We also learn to remember that we are Divine Beings.
Capable of anything.
Loved beyond measure.
And capable of radiating Love Beyond Measure.
We are not separate.
We need not be afraid.
Trust.
A pure heart is not one that has never done wrong,
Nor is it one that is clean as the wind-driven snow.
A Pure Heart is one that SEES CLEARLY
what
IS.
@TruthRascalHQ ✨💖✨
🔥21❤6
Forwarded from Laxermom
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE
Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen
Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.
A mantle of snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.
The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,
Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.
The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,
Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.
When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,
Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.
The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet
Then raced to the river where they usually meet.
“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,
As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.
“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”
They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.
Then what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.
It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,
Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.
Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,
There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,
A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,
Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.
As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,
Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,
Made each of the fey folk think of the spring
When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.
“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed
in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,
“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,
that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”
“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,
The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells
Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”
“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,
Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.
Have you forgotten, my children, the fun
Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”
She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,
As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,
“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”
They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,
Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.
They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.
They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.
They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,
In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.
They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,
Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.
Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,
Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,
The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree
And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.
They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,
The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.
It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar
The golden-like sphere turned into a star.
The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,
“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”
Poem author C.C. Williford
Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen
Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.
A mantle of snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.
The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,
Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.
The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,
Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.
When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,
Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.
The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet
Then raced to the river where they usually meet.
“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,
As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.
“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”
They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.
Then what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.
It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,
Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.
Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,
There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,
A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,
Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.
As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,
Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,
Made each of the fey folk think of the spring
When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.
“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed
in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,
“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,
that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”
“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,
The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells
Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”
“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,
Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.
Have you forgotten, my children, the fun
Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”
She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,
As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,
“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”
They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,
Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.
They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.
They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.
They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,
In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.
They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,
Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.
Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,
Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,
The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree
And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.
They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,
The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.
It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar
The golden-like sphere turned into a star.
The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,
“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”
Poem author C.C. Williford
❤24🔥9
I want to share this info on Narcissism bc I’ve found this woman’s podcasts to be incredibly helpful for understanding the deep motivations behind the disorder.
This is a conglomeration of many of her best pieces. If anyone is struggling with this issue right now, (and it seems this a HUGE issue that’s being exposed as the energies shift) I think you’ll find this to be very useful.
G/Knowledge is power.
The Little Shaman on Narcissists and Gaslighting
(YouTube and Spotify links)
https://youtu.be/X4oTnChGP9s
https://open.spotify.com/episode/1UrQ0jeMiwcrIp6o7dydpn?si=7ws9adx-QOm3EMIQ8exmpw&t=5040&context=spotify%3Ashow%3A4qwaBl9phChhS0fvSgEHYA
This is a conglomeration of many of her best pieces. If anyone is struggling with this issue right now, (and it seems this a HUGE issue that’s being exposed as the energies shift) I think you’ll find this to be very useful.
G/Knowledge is power.
The Little Shaman on Narcissists and Gaslighting
(YouTube and Spotify links)
https://youtu.be/X4oTnChGP9s
https://open.spotify.com/episode/1UrQ0jeMiwcrIp6o7dydpn?si=7ws9adx-QOm3EMIQ8exmpw&t=5040&context=spotify%3Ashow%3A4qwaBl9phChhS0fvSgEHYA
YouTube
Narcissists & Gaslighting [Deep Dive]
In this episode, The Little Shaman discusses gaslighting and pathologically narcissistic personalities.
This Deep Dive contains:
Gaslighting By Narcissists Is Different
The Narcissist's Act
Stop Projecting Onto Narcissists
Narcissists Twist Things
Invasion…
This Deep Dive contains:
Gaslighting By Narcissists Is Different
The Narcissist's Act
Stop Projecting Onto Narcissists
Narcissists Twist Things
Invasion…
👏8👍2❤1
Forwarded from TR HQ
Important bit of understanding about narcissists. They don’t fall in love with themselves. In fact, most actually loathe themselves.
They fall in love with their reflection.
The reflection they see in the mirrors all around them is what they become obsessed with.
How they appear is what matters. To others, yes, but most importantly to themselves.
It soothes their deep seated belief that they are not worthy. Not good enough. Very, very not OK.
The people they abuse are not actually people to them. They are mirrors; simple tools to use to examine their own reflection. And when the mirror no longer shows them what they wish to see, they will break it.
Or try to.
@TruthRascalHQ
—4 Sept 2024—
They fall in love with their reflection.
The reflection they see in the mirrors all around them is what they become obsessed with.
How they appear is what matters. To others, yes, but most importantly to themselves.
It soothes their deep seated belief that they are not worthy. Not good enough. Very, very not OK.
The people they abuse are not actually people to them. They are mirrors; simple tools to use to examine their own reflection. And when the mirror no longer shows them what they wish to see, they will break it.
Or try to.
@TruthRascalHQ
—4 Sept 2024—
❤10⚡7🥴1