Flow 1:1 In the beginning was the word, the holographic nature of God's name

... and each word, like God, has energy - and each word is energy.

I wake up, my mind full of …message!

In the beginning was the word, the holographic nature of God’s name and each word, like God, has energy - and each word is energy.

The words sound inside my head, echoes within a deep cave and they sound outside my head, whispers, close to my ear. This feels natural and easy - almost uneventful. I am still in bed. Eyes closed, I listen.

We are going to give you a book now You can accept or deny or ignore this request, this offering, this gift. You are free.

Yes. I think, dreamily. “Yes,” I say it out loud. Yes - an acknowledgment (I hear you) and an agreement. A nod, as to a friend who is speaking (I see you there) and a contract, signed in invisible ink on a dotted line etched into the space between me and… Wait! Who is this? What have I agreed to?

I have no time to find out - for a moment after my yes, the “book” begins to flow, a stream of words, embroidering their way through my own thoughts, a river, running alongside a river. I grab my pen.

In the beginning was the word, the holographic nature of God’s name and each word has energy - and is energy. I am that I am that I am that I am that…

I am the word. I am thought made manifest. Word is the crossing over. Word is matter. Word is reflecting thought back toward itself. Word is the mother, who mirrors the child back to herself, to himself, saying, I see you and in my eyes, and my words, you can see yourself.

Surprised, confused, because “Seriously?! I can’t write this! It sounds … nuts! A rush of words filled my mind.

You are here. This is it. Nothing is wrong.

You are here and we are here with you.

As the words fill my mind, warmth moves through me, flooding my body with peace, with … trust. My heart slows, my breath evens out. I don’t understand what is happening. Yet I understand completely.

Silently, I repeat the words to myself: I am here. This is it. Nothing is wrong. I am here, and, as if in response, I hear:

We are here. This is it. And you are here with us.

Later, at breakfast, when I tell my husband what’s happened, he laughs.

“I wondered why you were humming.”

“I was humming?”

“You were. In your sleep. You were nodding and humming. I thought, ‘She must be listening to a dream.”

Photo by Daniele Franchi on Unsplash

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