The Road to Damascus | A Still Quiet Voice Guides

To draw out, as in water. The Holy Spirit, Wisdom

Prelude: It’s now been over a year since I started composing this piece—time moves strangely these days. I am coming back to it now for two reasons. The first is because of what has occurred in Syria with Bashar al-Assad abdicating the presidency and fleeing his country. The second reason is that the deeper spiritual significance of Damascus was presented to me this morning. Both of these aspects speak to the state of the world and what each of us confront in the Spiritual war being waged, an ancient one that seems to repeat through the epochs of time.

She woke one morning past, long before dawn, lying quietly in bed wondering if sleep would take her back. As it did not, she allowed herself to contemplate some deep inner urgings—the ones that are often illusive, waiting for the right moment in resonance to reveal themselves. With no objective in mind she wandered into the land of souls; this was new—a place where all souls connect. The mind immediately wanted to jump in; she let it for a moment, then softly sank back into a reverie.

On waking fully, the subject of this writing jumped out at me, it’s been sitting on this page for well over a month—much longer now—while I wondered why it came to me, not having a clue as to what I would write. This won’t be a Biblical allegory for something much more ancient than Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus wants to be told.

Many years ago, while working with some women on a near weekly basis, we remote viewed Syria. This was near the end of Killary’s tenure as secretary of state under Obama and the war in Syria had kicked into high gear. I had a lucid dream the night before where I found myself listening in on a conversation the wicked one was having, at one moment I made my presence known to her, she looked up startled, and then I vanished from the office.

None of us were trained remote viewers but each of us had a gift, so when we next got together I mentioned my dream and the resonant call I heard from Syria—just like that we were off to view. At that time we knew we were answering a deep inner urging felt by that the three and at times five of us. When in unison, we shone as bright lights on a situation that scattered the cohesion of the dark forces. I am not sharing this now for any acclaim, for subjective experiences can not be proven to those who haven’t had them. Back then just as now, I knew all true human beings have gifts long buried so by sharing this, I hope to encourage others to trust themselves and be not afraid to follow a whispered call.

The place I was drawn to was very ancient and hidden, stone structures that shimmered in an ethereal golden light showed themselves to me for a brief moment and then vanished with a warning. I was warned that no one was to know of this sacred place and that with war blazing it must be preserved. I intuited that Bashar al-Assad and his wife somehow knew of this place. To this day I still do not know the full significance of this vision, though I have long known that stones hold ancient ancestral memories, perhaps in the right moment those mysteries will reveal themselves.

Present Day Syria

Syria, a war torn land that has endured, its ancient towns and ruins have become an inspiring monument of what true human Spirit can overcome. Things are changing now as the world’s power brokers are realigning themselves—yet the bombs from Israel still fall, the US still has control of the oil fields, and the sanctions remain in place. Not to mention the further devastation of the recent earthquake, one wonders if it was man-made. Democracy has now become a word that indicates ruthless Empire.

As I write today Syria is no more, Damascus over-run by terrorists rebranded as “democratic” suit-cloaked leaders. Take heed for we are fast approaching the final days.

Ironically the mainstream news blames Syria on bombing itself.

Learning to view life as metaphor penetrates the hidden meaning of the stories, the parables, the traditions and cultures throughout time. Just beneath the metaphor is a metaphysical view of reality where your story and the collective story are intertwined. The unwinding of these stories, be they myth or historical, is a manner in which we remember our roots. The dark ones have tangled this story into an unrecognizable abysmal knot of confusion and chaos; it’s time we pull the golden thread out of the putrid dying mess. In these apocalyptic days existential questions are looking for answers—for as the what we once thought of as reality, pixilates into dust, there is an imperative to find a meaning for life that transcends what we have been indoctrinated into believing as truth. The past and future collide in the present moment, easy to write—more difficult to integrate and live authentically. I know that this inner alchemical process is the only way to exit the construct built on deception and shameless lies.

Damascus, one of the most ancient cities from our current era evokes a sense of the eternal and mystical. As happened many years back, my quiet inner voice nudges me to transport myself to this land. Inner tears fall for those who suffer yet persevere, a terrible inner fire of rage propels me to denounce all lies with the thundering of truth. Having grown old and wiser, I have tempered this fire so speak more softly to find the crack in the people around me, to deftly plant a seed of truth and water it with kindness.

I was unable to garner much about the origin of this name on the usual links that pop up when searching. This link on the word Damascus is an interesting read, it looks at the Aramaic and Hebrew letters. Since it’s an unknown I have settled on the following possibilities from the root of the word: salvation, synchronize elements into a whole, and agent of peace.

Attempting to express what is arising from within will require some literary license and the use of metaphor.

Logos-The Word—The resonant vibration of the Holy song—The Word of the Ineffable Father that created matter (Mother). Today there is a constant relentless deluge of data; bits and bytes of unconnected pieces of information that are driving the rush to a technological future. The AI-driven algorithms are constantly attempting to overwrite our ability to commune with Divine Spirit. People ignore this way too often, not realizing how their minds are influenced by the falsity of the information they take in.

Each human being views reality through a unique lens; today the fracturing of the Holy Whole has led to a seemingly irreparable divide. I don’t need to write an essay on this, for it is apparent, even to those who blindly obey the narrative driven by a dark hand cloaked in false light. “My people perish for lack of knowledge. Because thou hast rejected knowledge…” I drop off the quote here because I repudiate the Biblical interpretation of God’s wrath punishing his creation for man punishes himself. When one does not seek knowledge—self-knowledge—who am I? where did I come from? and where am I going?—one will inevitably lose contact with Divine Love, and therefore what could have been reclaimed is lost in the never-ending torrent of lies, propaganda, psyops, and swirling disinformation. I write and speak what truth lies within me so that good souls will awaken from a fear-induced slumber. Many misinterpret my intentions while others simply cannot see of what I speak. It is with loving kindness that I water the inner fields so that sooner or later realizations can take root.

The Still Quiet Voice

If you listen closely enough you will hear the trees and shrubs singing. Not a startling realization at all, it feels like taking a long slow draught of pure water. Water running over stones sings the eternal song as do the birds flitting in the air and momentarily landing to sing their song. Perhaps the most beautiful of all sounds is snow silently falling, cloaking the world in sparkling wonderment.

These moments in nature are eagerly embraced, yet how often do we hear the same silent voice inside? She whispers and caresses, waiting, always waiting for one to answer the call. And so I find Damascus within me, vibrant alive shining a golden light of remembrance, for nothing is lost when Spirit is rekindled daily, moment by precious moment I remember.

Damascus – To draw out, as in water. Holy Spirit Wisdom

I circle around God, the primordial tower, and I circle ten thousand years long; and I still don’t know if I’m a falcon, a storm, or an unfinished song.

— Rainer Maria Rilke