To: K-list
Recieved: 2001/03/29 06:45
Subject: Re: [K-list] May I ask?
From: Mystress Angelique Serpent
On 2001/03/29 06:45, Mystress Angelique Serpent posted thus to the K-list:
At 05:39 PM 3/28/01, NoriSlaterATnospamaol.com wrote:
>Will some of you speak on K awakening-the what, where, how and why for you?
>Any and all "K stuff" is appreciated...
>Thank you
>"TFNOOTH"
Awakening... rather, I was never fully "asleep".
I would like to post a chapter from my autobiography.. presently being
written.
The working title is "Fuck off, I know what I'm talking about!" Story of my
life..:)
The Plant Pot Incident
When I was about two years old, I woke up in the middle of the night, from
this amazing experience of being in this beautiful, loving Light that told
me I was Its child. It was so blissful! Waking slowly I had this experience
of travelling up through a tunnel, away from the loving Light, and ending
up awake in my crib. Separated from the Light, and this was so
traumatic! I was determined that I had to get back there, right away!
Now I had a clear impression that the light was underground, and so, of
course I figured that I had to dig, to find it somehow. For the first time
I managed to climb out of my crib. I was very little I may have even been
younger than two years old. Not yet a toddler, I couldn't even walk. I was
a crawler who could barely stand up on my own.
Like a monkey I managed to climb out of my crib, and crawl out of my
bedroom, and head for the garden in the backyard to go dig up the Light
right away, as quickly as possible. There was no way I was going to be
separated from It; It was too beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing I
had encountered up till then, in my short life.
I was too little to open the door to go outside. It frustrated me that
I could not get outside into the garden to start digging right away. So I
looked around and thought, well, if the light is under the dirt, then maybe
I can dig it up in a plant pot. This seemed a little unlikely to me, even
then, but I had a mission, and I was determined. So it seemed worth a try.
My mother had a planter that was just about as tall as me. I could barely
peer into it, standing on my tippy toes holding onto the legs of it for
support. I tried first digging with my little baby fingers, but they were
too soft. I got nowhere with that. So I crawled around the house till I
found a Popsicle stick under the kitchen table where it had been abandoned
by one of the older children in my family. Triumphant, with my tool in
hand, I returned to the plant pot and started digging. I knew my mother
would be upset if I made a mess and hurt the plant, so I was careful. I dug
zealously, wanting to get to the Light but with care to stay close to the
side of the pot and keep away from the spider plant roots. I tried not to
get dirt anywhere. I dug and I dug, and just as I was reaching the bottom
of the plant pot, poking at it with my Popsicle stick and realizing that
this wasn't going to work, my family woke up. It was morning. I was
delighted, because now they could let me outside, and I could dig in the
garden.
My family laughed at me; I had mud all over me. I remember they asked me
what it was that I was digging for. I didn't have much of a vocabulary; I
was too little, but I was able to communicate that I was looking for the
Light. I can remember my mother's face very close to mine. Her head seemed
enormous, occupying my whole vision like a close-up on a movie screen. She
made one of those clown faces that adults make when they are talking to
small children, pointing to the light switch, and the sun outside, and the
ceiling light. This huge clown face so close to mine, saying in a high
pitched voice "Light? Light? You are looking for light?" pointing
everywhere but down, and my shocking realization that they didn't know
about the Light under the ground.
This hit me like a ton of bricks. They were adults, big people; they knew
everything! How could they not know about this? How could they not know
about the Light, and me know when I was just a baby?
They thought that my digging adventure was very funny, and Mom fetched her
camera to take a picture of me. She told me to smile... but I didn't
smile. I decided in that moment that maybe this woman who was making fun
of me for digging was not my mother. That Light under the ground that said
I was Its child was my Mother. I felt like I didn't belong in the family
where I was, and I could not trust these people around me because they
didn't know about the Light. How could they not know?
I know now, that was the birth of my ego. That first choice not to smile,
when I was asked to smile was the first time I had a mind of my own to
choose not to do as I was asked. That first realization that my tiny baby
self might know things, that adults do not know was the birth of my
individuality.
A child who realizes at age two that they may be wiser than their
parents, is entirely alone in the world. Alone, in a way that I cannot
fully describe. I did not have Goddess, I could not dig Her up, and my
parents were not my parents, I did not belong in my family, and the light
of the sun was just not good enough! It was a cold distant thing compared
to the incredible Love I had lost on waking. That awful feeling of
aloneness: it was with me for most of my life.
I was upset because after they took a picture of me with my Popsicle stick,
they would not let me outside to dig! How come they did not understand how
important it was that I find the Light, right away, and go back into the
Light?
It was not possible that I could be wrong, and I refused to believe them.
The sun in the sky was a cold distant dead thing, compared to where I had
been before I woke. If I was wrong about the Light, then I did not want to
be alive in this world. I was very clear about that. I did not want to be
in a world where that Light was not real. It had to be real, and I was
completely certain that it was real, but I could not understand how it
could be that they did not know about it. My family suddenly seemed like
strangers, enemies who conspired to make me stupid and blind.
I made up my mind, not to forget where I truly came from.. but I knew, too,
that I was little, helpless and dependent. If they discovered that I did
not belong there in my family that they would cast me out, and I would die.
So, I resolved to pretend to be the child they wanted me to be, but to
never forget, that it was not who I truly was. Never to forget that my Real
Mother was that beautiful Light.
As a child, remembering how my family had laughed at me, I kept my mouth
shut about the Light, and about many other strange experiences I had.. but
I never stopped believing in it... even though it seemed so far away. I'd
often persuade my younger brother to help me dig holes, always trying to
find it again. I'd make up some excuse for him, some game to persuade him
to help me dig, but I never told anyone what I was really digging for. When
I would see road crews digging big holes, I would always stop to look into
them, to see if by any chance they had dug up the Light. Always there was
only mud and earth.
When I was still very young my dad decided to build an addition onto the
house to be a sewing room for my mother. He started by digging deep, deep
postholes to put in concrete pillars to support the foundation. Much deeper
than I could dig. My older brother played a game with my younger brother
and I, shining a flashlight down into the holes and moving it so that the
small bits of gravel at the bottom would appear to dance as their shadows
moved. I knew, with some disappointment, that was not It, either. The light
was not coming from the ground; it was reflecting off the ground, and so I
still I searched and I searched, trying to find that Light that I missed so
deeply.
Throughout my childhood, my relationship with my mother was full of many
conflicts. I was a difficult child to raise. She has asked me many times,
as an adult, why I was such a difficult child, and for the longest time I
didn't have any answer for her.
I didn't know why I was so stubborn and independent. Why I insisted that I
knew what I needed, better than my parents knew for me. Now I have
connected the dots. I know it goes back to that first moment of realization
that they did not know about the Light under the ground. That early
decision that I could not trust them to know things that I knew. That first
separation from the Light inside of the earth that was my True Mother.
In his book, "Running from Safety," Richard Bach tells a similar story...
but different. While reclaiming memories from his early childhood, Bach
remembers a telepathic conversation with his mother's subconscious when he
was a tiny baby. His mother tells him that now that he is embodied, he has
to play a game of forgetting where he came from. Forgetting the Light and
his infinite spirit. He has to surrender to playing a game of believing
that he is a limited human being in a 3-D reality, separate and alone
against the dragons.
For most of my childhood, and well into adulthood, I was "different." I did
not understand what made me different, but I was a social outcast among my
peers, human herd instincts picking on me like a mother bird that casts her
baby out of the nest because it smells wrong, touched by humans. I smelled
wrong, touched by God. Adults would tell me, "Stop acting like you think
you are so special." I could not understand what they meant. I was just
being me. It was so confusing to be told this over and over, having no way
of understanding what "specialness" they were talking about.
By the time I was a teenager, I was desperate to fit in. If I could have
found the "specialness" they spoke of, I'd have gladly cut it out like a
wart, so that I could end the pain of feeling outcast. Cut it out like I
tried to cut off my third nipple with toenail clippers in a hot bath one
day. Having a third nipple is the mark of the witch. It made me
"different," and I did not want to be "different." I wanted to fit in, and
be accepted. If you can imagine how painful it would be, to cut off your
own nipple, know that it was much less painful than the isolation I felt,
being "different."
Now I am grown into a wise old witch, I do understand what they meant by
"Stop acting like you think you are so special." I understand what made me
so "different."
I understand that every child is born totally enlightened, knowing itself
to be part of Goddess, unconditionally loved by the Light. Infinite Spirit
in human form. Every child forgets that, as part of the process of growing
up and growing an ego. Every child, like Richard Bach, agrees to play the
pretending game and forget what they truly are and where they came from.
Every child, but me. That stubborn decision not to forget about the
Light was what made me so very "different." Now I understand that when
people told me "Stop acting like you think you are so special," it was a
message from their own unconscious telling me to forget about the Light,
and play the forgetting game just like everybody else.
My choice not to forget about the Light under the ground, had many, many
side effects besides making me "different." Side effects I could never
understand or comprehend until after I became a Shaman, in 1993.
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