Termas, and other things already coded in me.
Went through some old journals tonight and found an entry that sparked a handful of new writing ideas before I'd even finished rereading it. Sharing it here mostly as written:
I woke up with the "Quiet" song on my mind, and contemplating the profound effect this journey with everyone is initiating. The teacher is a storytelling genius, like an Oracle, breathing magical healing and presence, waking my intuition and imagination.
I'm gaining a deeper communion with my tai chi practice and daily journaling. I've steeped my consciousness for the last few years in William Henry's work, Xi and Stella's words and images, research and imagination around weaving day dreams with night dreams. The last two weeks, diving into resources like The Gospel of Mary, audio recordings and music on Mary's journey through France, has been remarkable. My artistic vision has widened, other divination tools, design understanding. I feel a flow of ideas that include charging the art with quantum vibration, oil essence, flower elixirs, mists, anointing oils, practices that infuse prayer and dreamweaving, sleeping and waking life uniting.
My sacred union practice: more present to the hands, feet, arms, awakening deeper dimensions of learning like Termas. Information, knowledge coded in the body and the DNA. A heightened respect and reverence for my body temple.
The Lord's Prayer in Aramaic. I started last night with a website that has each phrase in audio. Thinking about the reality of that history, the people involved, the rituals and ceremonies performed and embodied, is profound. Calling forth the ancient true ways of Jesus and Mary and the followers of their ministry. The ancient language reminds me of what my teacher James taught: these sounds, these vibrations, are a code of frequency used for healing.
My mom gave me a keychain from Fatima when I was a child. The blessed mother Mary on one side, my name on the other, with its meaning in Aramaic: my lady. I don't have it anymore. It was cherished for years, and it means even more now, knowing where it came from, a place still shrouded in mystery for me.
Reading it back tonight, one word stopped me. Termas. Hidden treasure teachings, buried in the earth or the body, waiting for the right person at the right time to find them and read them correctly. I've spent this whole log insisting that people don't need more ideas, they need someone who can listen deeply enough to find what's already there. Turns out I had a word for that discipline all along, sitting in an old journal entry, waiting.
Even the keychain does the same work. Gone for years, and only now, rereading this, does it mean anything close to what it actually meant. My lady, in Aramaic, handed to me as a child in Fatima, decades before I had language for why that would matter.
Nothing here got invented tonight, only found again.
Observations from Earth: an old entry, doing new work. Termas, a word I'll be circling back to. A keychain I don't have anymore, still teaching me something.
More tomorrow.
