Busting the bonds of unbelievability

Today, I am sharing a guest post from a good friend, Oktobre Taylor. Oktobre and I have known each other since the days when I was attending the Dragonfly Teacher’s advanced studies class. She and I became detectives in discovering the truth behind the University I was attending in my Sacred Space. When I began traveling and living the lessons the Dragonfly taught, Oktobre continued with her research. Funny, we’ve come to similar realizations despite the time and the miles between us.

This is one of her latest information shares. I found it curious, although she and I agree it is still a rough idea of what could be going on.

The Virtual Reality, by Oktobre Taylor

“I have come upon some rather large revelations lately that most people will find rather hard to believe. It doesn’t matter what anyone believes right now because I know, soon enough, there will be proof of what I am saying in a pretty dramatic way. Everyone will be in awe and I will just be smiling because I know what is coming. I mean I really know. The great Wizard of Oz is about to come out from behind the curtain and you all will be amazed. There will be no wondering and confusion anymore…at least with the important details. This is a virtual reality. What you think of as “God and Satan” is just the people in the lab who built the program. And yes, they are always watching as though we are living the movie The Truman Show. Our true home is an Earth far into the future from this one when we have evolved into something truly amazing. There we understand that what we call “God” is the spark of life within every living thing…The plants, the animals the stones, the trees, the water, the air and us. This school is meant to teach you love and respect for everything and until you do, you can’t graduate. None of us are in here as long as we think. Since time doesn’t exist in a computer, all lives are, indeed, happening at once even though it feels more like the linear lives we experience at home. So, ladies and gentlemen, please place your chairs in the upright position. Fasten your seatbelt. Hold on tight, and don’t lose faith. Everything is going to be okay. The world may seem like it is falling apart when really it is falling — or colliding — into place,. into balance. And then *poof* like magic it will be Heaven on Earth. At least it will seem that way compared to the hell we have been witnessing lately.”

The reason I decided to share her post is because it reminds me of something that happened with El Juglador and me during the past two-plus years.

“It is so unbelievable,” El Juglador said in response to one particular bit of information we received.

“It needs to be, in order that the bonds of unbelievability are broken,” was the disembodied response. We have lived this truth since then, that our lives have been a blessed gift of grand magnitude. All of us have a gift to accept, a gift of tremendous love. Do you know the Giver of this gift? Maybe you should give Him your ear and listen?

I know this blog post is going to bust through some people’s sense of reality, but give me a chance to address this theory that has appeared in countless movies, TV shows, and books throughout the past 50-plus years, including Philip K. Dick’s short story, “We Can Remember It for You Wholesale,” made into the movies, “Total Recall.”

I remember when my son, William, got me hooked on a Japanese Manga show, “Sword Art Online,” Wikipedia, Sword Art Online. The premise of the show, similar to other TV shows and movies that have cropped up within the past fifteen or so years, is a highly anticipated Virtual Reality game. Within the game’s first hours of operation, the Players learn the game has been infected with a virus. It was no longer a game. The Players were stuck in this game until someone won it all. If they lost a battle and died, they died in the real world where their bodies lay with the goggles firmly placed on their faces.

That premise is terrifying to me. What if we were to get stuck in some similar game? Some people might think that’s a cool premise they would love to try out.

I think it would be a scary hell, having no control over my eternal soul simply because my body was hijacked.

Recently, this idea has been circulating the internet, What if this life we’re living is just a game we stepped into just to be the first ones in line, a bit like when a new iPhone comes out — you don’t really need it, but it would be cool to be one of the first to have that Dick Tracy-ish TV/radio/computer watch. What if while standing in the line that wraps around the Apple store, the doors get locked and you can’t get out until someone defeats the entire program? What if?

More and more scientists are getting into this theory. There’s even a Wikipedia page,

“The simulation hypothesis proposes that reality is in fact a simulation (most likely a computer simulation). Some versions rely on the development of a simulated reality, a proposed technology that would seem realistic enough to convince its inhabitants. The hypothesis has been a central plot device of many science fiction stories and films.

While I find this theory interesting and plausible, I am more likely to fall along the lines that the goal of this life is not to determine which storyline we chose to play through in the game, but rather, to remember who the player truly is. Who we are behind the mask.

I wonder if, rather, this game theory is a trap in itself, where we hand off the blame onto some random entity. This life we have been given is a gift given by the Creator of this world. Above all, we must not waste this gift. So how can we Honor the Creator and make the best of His Gift? Geez, I don’t know, but I’ve been getting some ideas that have made me think.

Teacher has been talking to me again of late, especially about this. It is not necessarily whether this reality is a game or a trap or a university; the goal is to find ourselves within the web of this blessed human existence. We shouldn’t look for our role in a game, our part in a movie. Maybe the best way to Honor the Creator is to honor our gift, the life we’ve been given?

There’s a place deep inside of me that guides me through my life. It is not necessarily what I “should” be doing in my life or what makes me feel happy. That deep place in my heart directs me. If I ignore it, it’s like my inner compass goes haywire and I feel like a liar. The truth is, I can’t tell you the secret to opening that special place in you. Only you can find the key that will help you “win the game” in the Virtual Reality sense or “find Heaven on Earth” in the goodly sense. Be true to yourselves, my friends. Find the truth that is born in your heart, the truth created by the Most High, then live it and live it fully, and, most importantly,

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it, (Proverbs, 4:23.) 

Much love to you as you search for your gift,

Most faithfully,

The Dragonfly’s Student

The heart is the key

When you are being led by something in your soul, something that holds no definition in the real world, it will not stop calling out to you until you heed its call. That call feels as if you are being called by a Higher Power; that is because it is the truth. Accept that guidance. Follow your heart. It is the key to that kingdom within you wherein your Truth thrives.

It is difficult to write this; I have not taken to writing my deepest thoughts for a very long time because my focus has been on the physical path onto which I have been guided. At one time, the Dragonfly was my focus, my teacher, my guide. Once I took to the road, my guidance was all around me, in the three ravens that followed my travels, many times guiding my thoughts; it was in the weather that stirred up a storm when I took a wrong turn, then calmed when I turned back onto the correct road; it was in the eagle feathers that were placed in my path at the appropriate time to become another breadcrumb; it was in the interwoven olive trees that gave us shade, their plump fruits hanging off the branches of the female tree; it was in the lone black dragonfly in the desert symbolizing the blessing we had offered for the memory of a child taken too soon by a misguided man; it was in the lone elk standing proud in his being to welcome us to his land; it was in the flowers dotting the desert where they should not have been growing.

Along the way, I bid farewell to a part of me that could no longer serve me, a part of me stuck in an existence weighed heavy by the matrix all around. With heart-wrenching tears, I learned to study that part of myself that could no longer serve me and discard much of it. I recovered the beloved being within me and found my way back onto the path, the path back to the Essence of my Creator.

I recalibrated my energy, and resumed my journey. Then I lost my way. The signs and symbols guiding me became muddled. I still do not understand, but I have a strong faith in my belief that my Guidance is Divine. Still, I trudge through. Maybe I took a wrong turn, maybe the Guidance was misunderstood, maybe the road I was on took a detour because of delayed construction? Still, I trudge through.

Now is not the time to wallow in the mud of “What if.” Now is the time to grow stronger in our faith in the Higher Power that holds us in the palm of His hands. When confusion poppy-along-i-17reigns supreme, the time is ripe for new connections and new realities to take root.

I am like that lone poppy plant flowering along the arid Arizona highway, thriving off the minuscule atoms of water that help my seeds develop and blossom. As my heart reaches out for direction from above, I grow in my individuality, a blossom among thorns. I am strong. I am invincible.

For you, my friends, I write this to encourage your own travels, your own path to the Creator Essence. In my absence, some of you have discovered your own Higher Power direction. Some of you have taken to the path that burns in your soul. I congratulate you. I thank you. I welcome you to this reality into which we have chosen to develop.

Grow strong in that truth that burns in your heart. Take it on a journey within to reveal its essence. Become your own misplaced poppy plant and take root where the wind has dropped you. Please write to me and share your own journey. I would love to hear about what you have been doing to bless the burning fire within your soul.

Much love and Blessing to you,

The Dragonfly’s Student

The Parable of the Great Tree

When El Juglador and I wrote this story almost two years ago, I didn’t know what I know now. This story takes on a different meaning for me today. I hope you enjoy this re-posting.

Sincerely,

The Dragonfly’s Student

 

Once upon a time, the Monkey King sat at the peak of the Great Tree that reached into the clouds in order to commune with his eldest son. “My son, you have grown of age. I must now tell you of your…

Source: The Parable of the Great Tree

The sin of Pride

The Biblical Solomon wrote that there are “six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him” (Prov 6:16). On that list, are “haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies and a person who stirs up conflict in the community” (Prov 6:17-19).

I wonder how many of us can identify these in ourselves? I know I’ve been having problems with some. I don’t think I am wicked, I do not shed innocent blood! But I know I used to be a meat eater, something shameful to say the least. (What did that pink little pig do to get himself butchered for a Miami Cuban’s Christmas?) But I wonder if things I think are innocent and harmless fall on that list.

Stirring up conflict …. hmmm. Would sharing Facebook posts be considered in this definition. I think, maybe, the lines are gray here. Best bet would be to stop doing that, even if I think I’m only sharing knowledge, it may be misconstrued.

… a false witness who pours out lies … Again, I don’t think I lie, but I find myself dipping into the synonym basket to redefine my beliefs so that the word isn’t as harsh. Sometimes, that can be considered lying. At least, it is not telling the complete truth, even if it’s only to protect someone’s feelings. A little white lie, I believe, is a much more clear explanation, but it doesn’t clear me of the guilt of “bearing false witness.”

And then there’s this doozy, … haughty eyes … I don’t think I think I’m better than others, although regretfully, I can see how some might think that about me! A synonym for haughty is pride. Again, I don’t think I’m boastful and I don’t think my pride is sinful …. after all, aren’t we encouraged to protect ourselves? Don’t we watch our credit report to make sure nobody steals our numbers? As women, aren’t we encouraged to protect ourselves so we don’t end up ravaged by a rapist or poverty-stricken like the bag lady who fed the birds in “Mary Poppins?”

Yes, even in this world of self-sufficient women, I wanted to be pampered and protected. I felt justified in my pride, but when you’re talking about God, pride gets in the way. Pride means trusting yourself more than trusting that the Almighty has you in His hands.Pride means being so caught up in my reality, in my little movie-inspired world, that I don’t see how little my meaningless existence means in this world of pain and need.

(As I write this, emergency personnel are cleaning up a pedestrian accident. Someone got hit by a car on the road near where I’m parked.) Really? And I’m writing about pride and deadly sins? That’s prideful!

My little human, first-world problems mean so little in this world where many are so consumed in their own lives that they look away when Gaia, our home, gets raped and pillaged by dark forces. So, instead of letting myself get caught up in my pride and all those other sins of which I’m sure I have been guilty, I will focus my intent on helping save our Mother Earth and trusting in my Lord Yeshua, her bridegroom.

Who’s with me?

Much love to all,

The Dragonfly’s Student

 

 

 

One Traveler’s Testimony

As I continue to change and grow, my blog will reflect my journey. 

Minnah and I have been on a road trip since we left Miami in June of 2014. Minnah was an energetic red puppy of mixed origin who looked to me like the Chocolate Lab I always knew would travel with me. I was a high school teacher awakening to the spiritual world and heading out on a Vision Quest to find my own Truth.

Along the way, we picked up a friend, whom I named El Juglador in my prior blogs. The three of us headed West to find the Hopi and other Truths that can only be found in the deserts of America. Then we continued our travels, from sea to shining sea, essentially, following a Higher Call.

One thing I’ve witnessed on this spiritual quest is something I have fought to admit. I pride myself on being Pollyanna, believing the best in people. It’s been sad, however, to have to admit the truth – people have only their own interests at heart.

I know, I know. I can hear the groans from the studio audience. What proof do I have? How can I come up with such a blanket statement?

We have witnessed a lot these past two years, we have met very special people who don’t know they’re special, but we’ve also met people who are the reverse of that. The most-telling experiences have come since we set out on the road in our precious BT Cruiser, whom we have nicknamed MammaJama, or MJ for short. That’s when mechanics started seeing dollar signs when they saw us.

I mean, I can’t blame them. Isn’t everyone just out to make a buck? They expect an RV to mean a vacation home, meaning money in the bank, not a rolling Genie bottle that’s home to a couple of gypsies.

The truth is any businessman gets that impression in his quest to Do What He Will for himself first. Wandering merchants approach us with their wares. Homeless panhandlers know there’s something for them. It’s a recreational burden, I must admit.

Except this isn’t a vacation home. It’s my home. I live here, so my biggest gripe with what I’ve seen these past two-plus years is,

Mechanics! Not one mechanic over another. I mean the entire breed of mechanic.

We give them access to our vehicle, which just so happens to include everything we own. I hope to be able to trust that my home is safe. So, yeah, that is my first Consumer Gripe. It’s gotten to the point where leaving MJ with any mechanic feels like I’m handing my child over to a pedophile.

From the wrong ball joints being replaced, at my cost to correct, to a wrong diagnosis that took months to diagnose and repair, much of which was paid for by me, I have grown to doubt these workmen I used to trust because, honestly, I couldn’t fix my vehicle myself. My heart ached a little this summer for the mechanic who insisted one day in Fallon, Nevada, “This is a small town. You can trust us.” They did not take advantage of us at that mechanic shop, C-Bar-R; in fact, they went out of their way to be helpful, but their brothers in gray have not been as honorable.

How can I trust these strangers in my home without my supervision?

I will not bore you today with every sordid detail of the mechanic-nightmare we have lived, except to focus on one main frustration, the men (and women) who insist they know what is wrong with our vehicle. They proceed with the costly work, either with or without our approval first, rarely to be correct in their initial diagnosis. Again and again, they take advantage of us just to make a little money off something they’re not sure is the real problem.

Do they stand behind their work when their diagnosis turns out to have been incorrect? Aah, therein lies the rub. Mechanics can never be wrong, we assume, and no mechanic will agree that another mechanic could have been wrong. It is almost like mechanics work together. It’s like if the secret got out, if people realized mechanics lie, the long-suffering glory-days of America’s love affair with their car’s mechanic will be over. It’s like a clan of Brothers in Gray.

So this addition to my The Dragonfly’s Student blog will present real-life parables that speak to the life we’re each living, every one of us who functions in this world. I will take you back to my ordeals, not to slander someone’s good name, but to comment on our specific situation, similar to a Letter to the Editor from an opinion-filled customer. I will even post this blog on their customer comments section to keep it real.

This blog will function as my testimony on the people I have met along my journey.

In June of 2014, I was a high school teacher awakening to a spiritual reality. Just like other New Agers, I believed we are in a reality where we all have an ability to be One with God. Unlike other New Agers, however, I know we are not gods. There is only one God, the Most High. Those who pretend to be “like God” are those tempting us to repeat the sins of Eve so that we will continue to be their slaves when we, too, will be banned forever from the Kingdom of God.

That’s a pretty heavy-handed statement, I know.

Along our travels, El Juglador and I have come to realize that we humans have learned to justify ourselves, to set our own ethical standards. Good people do less-than-honorable things when it comes to watching out for themselves. When it comes down to it, they have learned to excuse themselves from judgment, claiming, “God knows my heart.”

Let me tell you this from my own personal experience. I used to repeat that to myself as I continued sinning against God and against my soul. The Truth I’ve learned thus far is not as forgiving. Yes, God knows my heart. He also knows when I am not living the truth of my heart, when I am living a lie. That is what The Most High knows. That is what He objects to the most.

There is a difference between “thinking” you are a good person and actually “being” the person you believe yourself to be. There’s a difference between Clark Kent and Superman, and it has everything to do with Being super.

So, as I sign off on my Traveler’s Testimony, I leave you with one overarching thought – today, I am when and where I should be as a servant of God. This new blog is a graduation of sorts from The Dragonfly’s Student, and because my birth name, Mariolga Fernandez, means, The Beloved (or Bitter sea) (Mary) and Blessed (Olga), Traveler (Fernandez), the graduated Dragonfly’s Student will sign as the Happy Traveler.

Much Love to you, my fellow travelers,

The Dragonfly’s Happy Traveler

The Mystery of Trees

The philosophical writer Khalil Gibran wrote in The Shadow,

Upon a June day the grass said to the shadow of an elm tree, “You move to right and left over-often, and you disturb my peace.”

And the shadow answered and said, “Not I, not I. Look skyward. There is a tree that moves in the wind to the east and to the west, between the sun and the earth.”

And the grass looked up, and for the first time beheld the tree. And it said in its heart, “Why, behold, there is a larger grass than myself.”

And the grass was silent.

Step into Shasta
Camping on Mt. Shasta in October, 2014.

This earth existence is made up of fractals, a curve or geometric figure, each part of which has the same statistical character as the whole. If you study a tree, as Leonardo Da Vinci did, you will notice that if a tree trunk splits off into three main branches, each of those branches will be one third the size of the trunk and each 1/3 segment will, itself, split off into thirds again, each section is an exact replica of the parent section of the bigger tree. The fractals continue until the top, where the youngest branches will still be breaking into three sectional replicas of the bigger tree. Kind of awesome, if you ask me.

You see, I’ve always been in love with trees. As a child, I would get “lost” in the small key lime tree grove in our back yard. I would talk to the trees and to the butterflies until play time was over. A few years later, in another house, I would rake leaves under the big banyan tree in our back yard and flop under the branches to “meditate with nature” and catch up on my book reading.

As an adult, I longed for a home with trees, but Hurricanes Katrina and Wilma did a number on the two young trees at our townhouse in South Florida. I was never able to replace them. But I’m following trees now. My most recent fascination is the old cottonwood tree family I parked under in Farmington, New Mexico. The older two were over a hundred years old, but scattered under their branches were smaller family members. The owner of the trees told us that all cottonwoods are related, and, as we traveled back West to Chinle, Arizona, we again found a camping spot in a campground of cottonwood trees. I felt at home.

I’m in love with trees. I will often walk up to them, place my hand on their trunk, and talk of its massive beauty. Go ahead and call me Crazy Tree Lady! I’m never alone with trees.

Then I watched a recent video that’s blowing up YouTube, There are No Forests on Flat Earth Wake Up, by Людин Рɣси (I think he’s Russian because his accent reminds me of Star Trek’s Chekov.)

I will never see the Earth the same. The American landmarks he uses in this to illustrate his point are landmarks I’ve visited several times, Mount Shasta, the Petrified Forest, Monument Valley, heck, even the Hopi Mesas.

I remembered the story El Juglador and I wrote, The Parable of the Great Tree, and I felt a great connection with Mother Earth once more.

Once upon a time, the Monkey King sat at the peak of the Great Tree that reached into the clouds in order to commune with his eldest son.

“My son, you have grown of age. I must now tell you of your inheritance. This tree is our life force. Our family uses it for sustenance – its branches support us; its coverage protects us; its fruit nourishes us. But it needs us, as well. It is our function to protect it from parasites that threaten to kill. … (follow link for full blog.)

We’re beginning to wake up now, and, this morning on Mount Shasta again, I hear Gaia breathing a sigh.

The Dragonfly’s Writer

 

 

Hidden treasures

Tucked away behind a FedEx office in Flagstaff, Arizona, just past the garbage dumpster, two trees had grown up together, eventually braiding the two trunks into one tree.

“Do you suppose those are olive trees?” he asked. The fruits were bigger than the olives we buy off grocery store shelves, but I couldn’t say they weren’t olives. Everything about them told me he was right.twoolivetrees

Fortunately, we had internet service that day – something that has become a rarity in my life. I focused my phone on the trees, hoping to narrow the image down to get a better view, when I noticed the sun was
getting involved in our questioning. The image I got had sun rays cutting through the clouds and the branches so that the trees became glorious to me.
“These definitely have
to be olive trees,” I said. After all, the sun had gotten involved!

One quick Google search found the truth. Yes, these were olive trees.

There isn’t much more to this blog than the miracles of nature … two olive trees found each other on a hill in Flagstaff, Arizona, learned to grow together, and then, one rare rainy, summer day, are found by two humans when the light of the sun points them out between the showers of the day. On this day, El Juglador and I witnessed another beautiful revelation from Nature.

Pretty cool life I’m living!

Look for the miracles in your lives, my friends. Amazing things have been placed on this home I call Gaia, a living, breathing entity that is the mother of the life living on Earth. It’s up to us to witness her beauty and protect her whenever we can. After all, the Creator gave Her to us. It would be kind of rude of us not to notice the little gifts we’ve been given, don’t you think?

Much love,

The Dragonfly’s Writer

 

 

Riding The Great River

“Row, row, row, your boat, gently down the stream,” the old childhood song played. “… merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

In my schooldays, this song was a regular chorus round that tested each singer’s ability to stay in tune while singing just a step ahead of or behind, another singer. But, today, that last line made me stop.

“Life is but a dream?” What esoteric wisdom has been given to us as children? Reminds me of Billy Joel’s River of Dreams…

And I’ve been searching for something
Taken out of my soul
Something I would never lose
Something somebody stole

El Juglador got to thinking, too.

“Imagine a droplet of water living as one of a Great River meandering through a vast countryside,” he said. “Gently, the river moves over sandy banks, between rocky cliffs, over smooth river boulders, but always the droplets remain near each other, like a family, never knowing anything but together.

“I imagine that when the river meets a waterfall, just over the edge, the droplets separate, some falling faster than others, some being blown distant by a passing gust of wind. As they fall, the droplets, who have lost their sense of self after being part of something greater, suddenly experience a separation from the family, floating and falling alone, experiencing the exhilaration and possible fear of the fall until the crash at the bottom, where the drops land unscathed to flow again down the river with the family.”

I remember when he mentioned this before, his belief that life is like a river. This song brought up the memory once again, and we both drifted off in thought. He pulled out his flute. I opened my laptop.

What if we are each like a drop of water? After all, we are practically all water ourselves. What if, as the song says, this reality we imagine is really just a dream? That 9-to-5, only a routine. That search for the perfect mate, really only a search for the comfortable family of the river, where we were one of many, never alone, never rejected.

Sometimes, water remains united, as in a chunk of ice left over from the winter before. When the warm spring rains come, the ice thaws and weakens and, when it hits a boulder or the hull of a speeding boat, the ice breaks apart. The water droplets, however, are never far from each other. Cohesion draws water to water, even fighting forces of gravity and wind with just the simple force of desire, never separating too far from the mass of the familial comfort that is the River of Home. What if this life we’re living is the drops of water falling off the cliff?

We are never too far from the moment of cohesion, but, as we fall, we are separated. Although the distance is only the empty space and the rush of the fall, we can’t remember that meandering river where we originated or the peaceful Home where we know we are returning eventually. We have become so enmeshed in the reality of our waterfall experience that we forget what it’s like to be part of the family of the River.

That moment of separation is when we humans need the power of faith most, that belief in one, unifying force that reminds us of the meandering river we used to call Home. The belief in the one God of the Great River of life is our only common denominator, many times.

What if God is that for which we search? Maybe that’s the reason we seek out relationships, why we swarm to social media and water-cooler friendships at work? Maybe that’s the reason we feel alone as we crash down to the blaring music of the roar of the waterfall?

angel-falls_salto-angel-2
Angel Falls, Venezuela

I wish that, in lieu of the incessant bombardment of sexual propaganda and racial separation we get in our society, we were, instead, constantly reminded of ourselves as just one part of a falling river looking for the way home. Frozen in fear as we fall, we build our own sense of separation. In this reality of superficiality, we judge with our eyes in a racism that goes beyond the dictionary definition and goes all ways … the black man who speaks from his education is judged by his peers as too white, the white man working two jobs to feed his family must lead a privileged life because of his race. The black woman who doesn’t react to a traumatic situation the way others think she should is considered a liar by YouTubers looking for a new conspiracy, regardless of the reality she lives in an increasingly dangerous America. A woman who was born a Fernández is not recognized as Hispanic because she writes and speaks like the English-language writer she always dreamed she would be as an American-raised Cuban. An Ojibwa Indian flute player is not received as a Native American flute player because his eyes are too blue and his skin too light.

What if this Great River on which we’re traveling is simply the Universe; this life falling into a clear, refreshing lagoon, simply a dream full of experiences. Along the way, the River’s path changes, sometimes smooth, other times becoming rapids. God forbid, it swirls into a whirlpool with a vicious undertow or even a steep drop, like Venezuela’s Angel Falls. In the end, we will rejoin our family and realize we are all one. Imagine what we will Know when we splash down together at the end of the long ride.

I hope our actions during this free-fall of our return into The Great River of the All That Is will not make us feel too much guilt.

Namaste, my friends. I am, ever-faithfully,

The Dragonfly’s Writer

John’s Third Book of Revelation Restored

I feel betrayed. The Book of Revelation was NOT supposed to be altered!!! Those who shared the altered Word withheld the end of this prophetic book! The Bible we have been reading and those behind this betrayal will be cursed, according to the mandate in the book itself.

30:19 And if any man shall take away from the words of this Book of Prophecy, the Father shall take away his right to the Tree of Life and he will be cast out of the Holy City and will share not the eternal gift of paradise and bliss, which are written in this book.

I’m still reading up on this, but it sounds legit.

 

Original share,

John was given a third book to writeing Revelation, but not liking what it said, THEY removed it from the Bible. It has been restored into the King of kings’ Bible; and is available to all as God a…

Source: John’s Third Book of Revelation Restored

A Servant’s Journey

UPDATE … It’s been a long two years since I got the call and took to the road. My Dragonfly Teacher doesn’t visit anymore, but I think that’s because I haven’t called on him. As I wrote just after he told me I was ready, “When the student is ready, the teacher will leave.” I now understand I was indeed ready.

He left me in the very capable hands of another teacher who continues to help me grow. This new teacher’s methods are definitely not as gentle as those of my Dragonfly Teacher! To clarify, this new teacher is not El Juglador. El Juglador, my traveling companion on this dual journey of ours, is a servant, as am I, of a greater teacher.

What have I learned?  I have learned to question everything I stood for before: First question, then verify, then, finally, re-validate so that everything I stand for now has been wrung through the wringer.

In the beginning, just after the dragonfly left, I met El Juglador, who was a church pipe organist when we began our journey. At the time, I had been locked into the world of materialism and Keeping-Up-With-The-Joneses. My eating habits, while modest due to perpetual dieting meant to keep me looking beautiful and young, drastically changed once El Juglador and I started our journey with our limited savings. What he brought along in his pack of supplies was an intense faith in our Creator and in His Word. Within a few months, I had realized that Jesus Christ had been an Essene and a vegetarian. When He cast the demons out of the possessed man and into the herd of pigs, it wasn’t so that the Israelites could feast on roast pork. Pigs are unclean. Ask any faithful Jew or Muslim. (Why don’t Christians believe it, as well?) To seal the bargain for me, pork started giving me migraines in 2014. No more bacon or Noche Buena feasts for me!

My spiritual beliefs have also changed. I felt I was talking to God, the Most High, but He wasn’t my primary contact, I’ve realized. I was lost in my search for spiritual answers. I followed just about any suggestion that was made by my friends and by spiritual gurus. I allowed myself to fall prey to other temptations. One of which, I must admit, was a Ouija board. I thought I protected myself from evil spirits, but, even if we wear the shield of God, we can’t be truly protected if we call demons into our lives. I know many of my friends may think I’m going overboard on this point, but I must be honest. In the past two years, I have had to cast several demons out of me. It hasn’t been easy or painless.

I just thank the Most High that He indeed knew my heart and yanked me from that world. (Yanked is the proper word here. I would not have seen the damage if I hadn’t been removed from its midst.)

ThePromiseTree
The Promise Tree through our screen window, Phoenix, AZ. April 2016

The world as it is now.  I do not see things the same way I used to see things. My friends, trust me when I tell you that if you were to meet up with me today, you would not recognize me. Nothing that used to matter to me or make my blood boil has any effect on me. Even my music interests have changed. Hollywood is no longer where I look to for entertainment. Disney is no longer harmless fun. The news has become more like vacuous entertainment and disinformation redirecting our attention than anything holding any semblance of truth. My focus has turned from the material world to the spiritual world of YHWH and Yeshua. You may think I’ve lost my marbles, I think I’ve finally found my truth.

This is one servant’s journey:  I have hesitated to write blogs during my lessons because I am still learning. Looking back at past blogs, I am ashamed of some things I have written and done. I do not want people to think I believe I am better than anyone else. This blog is a journey. It is MY journey. Your journey will probably be different.

All that I can recommend is that you turn into yourself and recognize your authenticity, then act on it. You are not a slave to the material world unless you allow that world to enslave you. Look deep into your SOL (soul) and listen to your HEART, an anagram of EARTH, the one connection we all have with each other in this world. The Earth is our world and our Heart is our Truth.

I invite you to take a step onto that journey that is calling you. The devil’s worst lie is the promise that there will be plenty of time for you to change. There is no time better than the present, for we never know when our present will end.

I’d hate it if I’d waited too long to correct the harm that has taken me two years to undo.

Much love and peace to you, my friends. From the road, I continue to write as The Dragonfly’s Student and, as my character was in the story of Faith and the Dragonfly in earlier blogs, I am now and forever will be,

The Writer