I don’t want to go to battle. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. This morning I woke up to a barrage of feelings —waves of lifetimes where I had donned the armor of God or blind stupidity or arrogant conviction and stepped onto the battlefield, emerging from the destruction with death all around me or lying there in a state of dying myself. One more lifetime of blood and sacrifice of life.

It has never been my soul expression. Even in the most powerful and successful experiences of winning in this lifetime, duking it out has had no appeal to me in the end. Presently. I do not appreciate the warrior within or without. I feel that my drive to fight has died.

These days there is no sacred warrior energy. All of it seems twisted and tangled in the weakening and dismantling of humanity and the purity of our sovereign power. The exterior warring reflects my battleground within.

In my soul existence, there is no desire to battle unless the competition or fight is based in joy and connection--the sheer childlike curiosity to see the fun in taking on a challenge. I'll smear you at Uno. Don't think you can beat me at one-on-one basketball! Drag race in my minivan any day. File for divorce before you-nana boo boo.

Presently, I am not feeling the connection of the 3D battlefield. I am not wanting to integrate soul in the 3D. As I CONNECT the dots my deepest longing is the connection of the dots aligning.
#%@&*#*% the dots!

So I watch your video

Integrating soul
Letting go of the NEED and the FEAR of the outcome.
Create from the 5D
Life is creating from…
Not the mind intuiting — the movement of consciousness wants to express.

I don’t want to fight, Open. And yet, “giving up” seems too easy or that I am “abandoning” my children, ultimately myself. I don’t want to fight for anything! And yet it feels so defeating and wrong. I SEE those spiked words within that one sentence. I have felt into it. It is a bloody massacre. It’s a mad dash away from the battlefield. It is a series of lying to stay safe and away from the warring—like the many men that took off for Canada during Vietnam to avoid the draft. Such shame and guilt. No pride in standing for one’s sovereign choice of life over death.
Over and over again, there is no possibility to FIGHT for what is right because there is NO RIGHT!

Am I failing by saying no to standing my ground in a place where conflict feels too much and not right??
Who says you are failing, Gwyn? I am.
Who says you have to fight? I do.
Who is running this show of warring both within and without? I am pretty sure there is something outside of me creating the netting and manipulating the energy!!

That is whose ass I want to kick. I don’t want to kick my ex’s ass or beat the corrupt court system. I don’t want to be a part of anyone or anything that is not aligned in the purity of soul expression.

Am I judging the corruption? Am I judging 3D? Am I judging and resisting the existing in 3D?

Hell yes!!

I sit with it. I am quiet. I am placing my attention in the uncomfortable feelings. I am observing daily the reflections, yet, I must be missing something. If I am still doing this daily grind of integrating soul as I breathe so deeply through the challenges and tensions and conflicts within—it feels unsuccessful, slow moving, definitely not aligning and smooth.

CAN’T I have smooth and effortlessness when transitioning?!

DEEP anger of how fucking full of effort this whole planet and human existence feels day in and day out. I feel like a kid having a tantrum who can’t get to the other side where the higher self is running the show. And then I hear “Gwyn, is there really anywhere to get to?!” Fuck off voice of reason or deception or paradox. I hate this stuff. I hate the battle. I hate those that thrive in the battle. I hate the aftermath. I hate the cycle of it all.

I took a detour while driving this morning—instead of going to a safe place to sit before work, I plant myself in the public at a cafe. Masks all around me although the mask mandate has been lifted. My children were dropped off at school and continue to wear their masks because half the teachers, the fucking adult mentors, are “doing the right thing” in this godforsaken county. The cashier gives me the stink eye as I walk maskless into the establishment. I am on the battlefield all the fucking time. My soul drove my car to this cafe because my beingness is asked to sit and BE here. It feels shitty. I have been a crying mess all mornning already. Breathe, listen to the music. Show me. Feel into it all Gwynnie—this is you truly. In all the uncomfortableness you thrive—you always have. Is this my cross to bear? The employees are masked and miserable. They are so anger.
I must be soooo angry deep within me.

Cry through it all.

A stadium — I have always felt best on the court, playing the game. Being a spectator I thought was for all those who were not really willing to risk anything or have fun. AND when being a spectator, I would be the loudest, cheering the players on. Thought: Satanic ritual—those fuckers creating fuckery and false joy for all. I am not impressed. Everyone I might have ever felt inspired by out there in the world is a fraud. Gandhi, Mother Teresa, the Virgin Mary, Frida Kahlo, Madonna, anyone I looked up to!!
I am probably a HUGE FRAUD.
Oh—there it is!! Go with that one Gwyn. Probably best to go to the car to work through this one.
YOU ARE SUCH A FRAUD…

Invert the image, you are not a spectator or the one battling on the court, Gwynnie. You are the soul soaring above observing it all. How does it feel? What does it look like? Where is the efforting — in your head thinking stuff through. Just observe. Find a ledge and sit there taking it all in. How long must I sit here to integrate and find the pure channel that allows me to move freely between it all?