Today is September 28th. It’s the full moon tonight. The first full moon since Wayne Dyer passed on August 30th.
Yesterday was the Super Blood Moon Eclipse. It is said that between 2009 and 2015, the Mayan Calendar predicted a Great Window of opportunity, when humankind would have the chance to fully step into our destiny as loving and compassionate creators.
Yesterday was also the day we (Autopoetic Ideas) brought Rachel Parent to Halifax. Rachel is a 16-year-old youth advocate and the founder of Kids Right To Know, an organization that is asking for the labelling of food that contains GMOs, here in Canada. Rachel’s message is simple: just label it so we can make informed decisions. She was presenting in front of political candidates, as well as concerned individuals, in the hopes of getting a law passed that would require all Canadian GMO foods to be labelled.
I love what Rachel is doing. I love her spirit, her fearlessness, and her commitment. She is only 16 years old, yet she clearly knows why she is here. As I listened to her speak, I was personally moved. As I listened to this young woman, who looks uncannily like I did when I was a teenager, I was mostly inspired by not only how much she cares, but that she dares to care out loud.
Most of us really do care about the food we eat, about food security for our communities, and the food we feed our kids. We care deeply about making the world a better place, and bringing more compassion and understanding into our communities. But too often, many of us, including me, after an inspiring event or an inspiring read, go back to our lives, and care quietly in our own minds, by ourselves. We feel connected with the message, feel compelled to join a movement, think of writing about it or taking action, but many times we don’t strike while the iron is hot. We don’t use the energy of the excitement we experienced to do something about it, to share our passion with the world, through our words and our actions. We care so deeply but we tend not to tell.
To me, this is what is meant by the great window of the Mayan Prophecy. Many of us have done the internal self-work and have known for a while now that we are here to fully feel the experience of being a loving, compassionate, and creative spirit in a human body. That is the “Be” and “Feel” part of Be Feel Think Do. To remember our path by connecting within. But for those who have been on this path for a while, the time has come to live this soul of ours out loud. To care out loud. That is the “think” and “do” part of Be Feel Think Do: to take action and to share our heart with the world. Setting clear intentions of what we truly want for humankind and engaging this intention in our every moment, with our words and our actions. Nothing happens if we don’t share our heart. Nothing changes if we keep our heart to ourselves.
I was meant to be in Rachel’s presence that day of the Super Blood Moon Eclipse. The fearlessness in her voice inspired me. That evening, I sat on my meditation cushion, in the light of the bright moon as it was slowly being eclipsed by the earth. I felt incredibly supported. The energy was particularly animated around my throat chakra and I breathed deeply into the experience. As I brought my attention to my heart and expressed my gratitude for this life and for the guidance, I set clear intentions for the years to come. I planted the seed of my desire to live out loud this soul of mine, to share my love for the human heart, fearlessly.
On the topic of daring to care out loud: my mother’s close friend Jacques passed away this morning. I had the privilege to speak with him last night. I waited until last night to share with him how I felt. In the past few weeks, was held back by my fear that was saying: “how dare you know what this man needs in his final hours.” But on the heels of the day I had yesterday, I had a burning desire to share with him how much I was grateful for the love and the friendship he had shown my mother throughout his life. Jacques loved my mother dearly, like a soul mate does. Spiritually, this man could have been my father and I wanted him to know that I felt like that. I wanted him to know that I held him in my heart as he was going through this transition and that I had so much love for him. He replied with his gentle voice: “c’est d’l’amour, c’est d’l’amour, c’est d’l’amour”. My mother said that he hadn’t spoken in a long time and that he became enliven by our phone exchange. During my Blood-Moon meditation last night, I asked Wayne, who Jacques met last May, to help him in his transition. As I spoke to my mother just minutes ago, I am more than ever convinced in the importance of daring to care out loud, NOW. Then I saw this on the sidewalk.