The Mother’s Command
Sandra Maslow Smith; Fall of 1997, CT
The week of caring for young grandchildren had come to a close… and I had left Wisconsin, returning home to Connecticut. It was almost midnight on a very clear, crisp fall night… and I was almost home. The drive, after the long flight, would be less than thirty more minutes. The road from New York to New Canaan – hilly and curvy, banked by rock walls and trees – was empty of traffic at this hour. All was dark except for the headlamps on my car.
I came over a steep hill… saw a column of light descending from the sky… and experienced time and space standing still. I was “suspended in the moment.” Immediately, I knew this was Mary… not from memory, not from experience, but by direct and inexplicable knowing.
In words, loud and clear, spoken heart to heart, mind to mind, yet not heard through the senses – not in a way of communicating I had ever before experienced – she said to me, “Work for all my children.” My response was rapid and surprisingly not shaken, “Yes, in the United States!” She commanded, “No… the world.” The communication clear and loud, yet not a sound touched my ears… actually via a “language” inexplicable to the reasoning mind.
Then, as suddenly as she appeared, she was gone… the column returned to the sky… and I left the suspended moment, now continuing on down the hill. All was again black, except for the path being illuminated by the car’s headlamps.
“Work for all my children in the world.” I began to ponder this in my heart. What does this mean? I had stepped onto the ongoing path of answering “Yes” to the call.
Humbly in service, Sandra
Go into Community
Sandra Maslow Smith; Christmas Day, 1997, New Canaan, CT
Leaving my house on Christmas morning, I was almost to my car when I heard an inner voice, telling me to go and get my New Testament. And so, I did. When I arrived at church, I was surprised to find that I was half an hour early. I said the Prayer to the Father, and sat down expecting some quiet, reflective time. Shortly, a Voice as loud as trumpets and clanging symbols began to speak…
“Go into community and lead the creation of value adding processes.”
I was surprised at the loudness, but felt somewhat at ease since all others who were there seemed calm, as if this were normal. I thought they all heard what I heard. I soon realized that I was being spoken to in direct communication, not through the ears, communication using loud words and some imagery. The “Go into community…” command came along with a fuzzy image of the town square in Foley, AL, where Wes and I are planning to retire in five or more years. Then an interaction began, with me speaking – innerly speaking – trying to understand, but perhaps mostly argue with what I was being told that I should do. I really did not know who was speaking to me, or what it meant.
And so, I declared, “The men will not follow me, a woman.” I was then drawn to the New Testament, which opened to where I had long ago placed a marker, moving the marker as I began reading the story of the wedding at Cana, being drawn particularly to the Mother Mary’s role. And the Voice answered my concern…
“Put the process in place and the men will follow.”
My inner response being, “I will not know what to say.” Again, returning to where I now found the marker, the words (MK13:11) were spoken very loudly…
“When they lead you away and hand you over, do not worry beforehand about what you are to say. But say whatever will be given to you at that hour. For it will not be you who are speaking but the Holy Spirit.”
The Voice had used the phrase, “value adding process,” which I knew to be a business term… and so I thought this was about doing my work in a community. I am a developmental resource to business leaders. So, I thought, “But I am not a community leader; I am a resource.” Again, I was drawn to the now new place of the marker (GAL1) …
“I am amazed that you are so quickly forsaking the one who called you by the grace of Christ for a different gospel (not that there is another).”
My work partner, Terry, and I recently declared to Charlie – the man training us to be resources – that we have decided to work on revitalizing America. I continued with my questioning, “But Charlie said we can’t lead; we must be resources to leaders.” To which the response became even louder…
“But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel other than the one that we preached to you, let that one be accursed!”
This disturbed me. “But is it not right to care for every soul? Surely he is not accursed, given up on?” And then, even louder, I heard and experienced…
“As we said before, and now I say again, if anyone preaches to you a gospel other than the one you have received, let that one be accursed!”
I was shaken, but certain this command is real. Unsettled, thoughts turned to what will happen… something along the lines of, “What will people think when I take a leader role?”
“Am I now currying favor with human beings or God? Or am I seeking to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a slave of Christ.”
Then I asked, “What about Terry? We always partner in our work. Am I to do this alone?” Now I found the marker was at the back of the book… where I was shown a map of St. Paul’s travels…
“For his part, he must go into the desert.”
Although Terry lives in Pennsylvania, he and his wife are planning to retire in the high desert of Colorado. So, the image held, although I did not see how this was going to work for our partnering. The thought came over me, “I really don’t know how to do this!”
“Leave your books behind and follow me.”
From this point, I began to image the rather mundane tasks and organizing that would be required to take on this work, and as each image showed itself, the Voice responded with the same words… calming words…
“Everything is in its place.”
As the opening singing for the Mass began, I remembered the Mother’s command, “Work for all my children in the world,” which led to my thinking, “Who are my children?” Just then, the priest walked down the aisle from the back of the church… and the Voice said,
“Here is your son.”
The service began. All in church prayed, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son”…
“That was then!”
“And of the Holy Spirit”…
“This is now! Now is the time of potential; the time for the Spirit entering. The end of time is the beginning of potential. Jesus came; walked on this earth; and was crucified at 32 years. Now, at 32, Jesus returns and will dwell here forever.”
I recognized “forever” as meaning until the end of the earth.
I left the church with a nervous excitement… a lightness of step, joyousness of heart… like the sun shining “out there” being inside of me. And realizing that there was so very much I had yet to see and understand.
In humble gratefulness for that which has been given to me, Sandra
St. Paul’s Visit
Terry P. Anderson; 1998, PA
Dear Mother,
I had a strange thing happen to me yesterday when I was returning from Connecticut that I feel compelled to share with you. I was on the train, coming back from working with Sandra when this happened. I was enjoying the ride, listening to the conversation of two elderly men in front of me, and looking forward to getting home when the train pulled into North Philadelphia. At the time, I was sipping on a can of beer that Sandra had given me for enjoyment on the ride back. I was sitting upright in my chair, while holding the can of beer in my right hand, when I went into a sleep like state. Upon entering this state, I met a man. I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he thought I should know him. For a second I thought maybe it was St. Peter and that I was passing on. Though he was clearly disturbed that I didn’t recognize him, he introduced himself as St. Paul. I suppose he was disturbed because of all the Gospel writers, St. Paul is the one I relate to best. I seem to be able to resonate with his deep thoughts and anguish. As if he was reading my mind, he assured me that he was not St. Peter, and that he (St Paul) had a particular role to play – different than that we commonly give to St. Peter. So, he said to me, “I know you know about finding out who you are and doing your work in the world… that one needs to form a soul, so that the soul aspect of our self can go on to the higher, invisible, unconditioned world. And you know that one’s spirit, once manifested, is present and accessible forever. And that when someone dies, while it is natural to mourn, we shouldn’t mourn too long, because that keeps the soul from going on to do its higher work. Rather, we should remember the spirit the person has manifested and bring that into our daily living. It is clear to me that you understand that, and I’m happy you do – because that is very important; it is the fundamental reason for our coming in the first place.” Then he paused a moment, lifted his hand with his finger pointing upward, to be sure that I was listening closely, and once again he spoke. “There is another element, that too is very important, that you (and I sensed he means others as well) need to know – when the time of your passing comes, will you be able to say you experienced life?” (I sensed by the word, “experienced,” he meant more than just enjoy). As if to make sure I understood, he held up a thick book – like an encyclopedia – that contained all of life’s experiences. He opened the book and suddenly I could see all of the pages each line of each page all at once. One of them said, are we so intent upon making sure the child is properly dressed that we don’t notice the little hand that is clutching ours; another said, are we too tired from doing the unimportant that we can’t enjoy and refresh one another at the end of the day. A third was an image of wiping a dish and not embracing a sunset going on just outside our window. There were others, but it became apparent that we are supposed to figure this out ourselves.
The next thing I knew the train stopped in Philadelphia. I was suddenly “awake” still sitting upright still holding the beer in my outstretched hand, feeling a little strange, but in a good sort of way. It was only this morning when I was giving Carol a ride to work that I could clearly recall that which I just described. It was then that this came to write to you – to share it with you… and perhaps others.
Love, Terry
A Seeing of Truth
Terry P. Anderson; 1999, Grand Junction, CO
I became aware of being in a vision… a holographic or three-dimensional vision. It was like being in a bubble and all were in the bubble… we all were there together.
I was standing next to this personage who had the being of Christ. All of my discernment said that Christ was who was there. We were standing there with two scenes in front of us – one to the left and one to the right. He was standing with one foot in each of these images.
It was a totally silent image. This personage and I were standing side-by-side. Words did not feel necessary. The envisioning and the experiencing of the presence began to work innerly… as expressed thoughts. His hands were out, and what was before us was obvious. I had an overwhelming sense of togetherness. Then the words became present, but not with sound. I am saying this in a sequential manner; yet it did not happen sequentially, but all at once. I am describing what was heard, seen and experienced, without interpretation.
The left-hand scene was clear imagery. It was people standing with rocks in their hands, and a woman cowering in the corner against the wall. The right-hand scene was a very fuzzy mirror image of the scene on the left. We could see the shapes and forms, but the faces were fuzzy… in a sense, I could not tell if they were being created or erased. I almost felt that if I could turn on the light, then maybe I would be able to see it more clearly. That is when the image of “becoming” showed itself in the scene on the right. The personage of Christ put his right hand over, and I then had the sense this side is “becoming,” while the left-hand side is all “salvation.”
Then the “becoming side” words were, “If love is not present in the process, love will not be present in the outcome.” The mirror image of those words on the “salvation” side were “Let he among you who is without sin cast the first stone” (JN 8:7). The words of love – the words of becoming – were in the same voice – Christ’s voice – and were the mirror of the words of salvation.
Stone silence… I could “see” the words. They were being written. The words in each side were on a plank… it was the conscience plank. The words were so clear… there was no confusion in the words.
While those faces and shapes of humans on the right side were fuzzy, I could see they were single persons and groups – any person or group we find ourselves personifying as the enemy in order to achieve our goals. These fuzzy people standing around all had rocks in their hands. They personified any group that you have to motivate to pick up the rock to stone the perceived enemy. There were environmentalists, politicians, rights and peace activists, government, business and religious leaders, and on and on and on. At any time, anyone could be throwing and anyone could be thrown at. This is what made “If love is not present in the process, love will not be present in the outcome” the mirror of “Whoever is without sin, throw the first rock” (Cf. JN 8:7).
As his arm opened and reached out to the left, Christ said, “This is what was unfolding then,” and to the right, “and this is what is unfolding now.”
All of this began to be drawn into me, outerly disappearing… then innerly, these words came: “Life, liberty and the pursuit of dignity.” Then came “Experience the fullness and wholeness of life… that is what America is for – a place for that.” Then, “Liberty – the freedom to choose the process by which I develop my soul, realize my potential, and surrender to my instrumentality.” Then the words were, “Pursuit of dignity – become fully and truly human in the dignified image that was intended.” As the bubble – all of both images and Christ – started being absorbed into me, these thoughts were unfolding… and the inner experience was that of joyous nervousness. I was experiencing the doubtless realness of what was occurring as I stood there outside the morning shower.
There was no pre-thought before the vision came. It was just there… and it coalesced all.
Humbly in service, Terry
Experiencing the White Eagle
Terry P. Anderson; 2003, Grand Junction, CO
One day a strange-looking large bird appeared in a tree near our campfire high in the Wind River Mountains of Wyoming. Upon closer inspection, several of us confirmed the bird had all the characteristics of a mature eagle, except it was pure white. Given that it was a chilly, drizzly, cloud-enshrouded day, my companions quickly returned to the warmth of the campfire. I, however, felt compelled and drawn to stay.
Soon thereafter, the white eagle flew past me and landed in a tree only a short distance away. I followed and was able to get very close to it. The white eagle was clearly aware of my approach – observing in a beckoning sort of way. I, on the other hand, was experiencing a deepening feeling of intentionality on its part. This sequence – of it flying a short distance and my following and getting close – was repeated several times. The last time I saw the white eagle fly and land a short distance away, I did not follow. Rather I turned away and wandered slowly down to the campfire, rationalizing to myself: “It is headed for the high peaks that mark the Divide – a rugged, difficult place of no trails… the weather is bad, likely to get worse… I have no provisions… I can’t follow.”
Several times over the next three days, the white eagle appeared when I was alone in a secluded spot. Each time there was silence, and a feeling of beckoning-intentionality. After acknowledging each other’s presence, the white eagle, without my really noticing, would disappear.
A number of months passed. Then I received a postcard from one of my camping companions. On it was a painting of a “spirit eagle.” He wrote, “I think this is the eagle we saw.” Also on the card was a reference to the Shoshone of Wyoming.
Many months later, I traveled to the gravesite of Sacajawea, located in the foothills of the Wind River Mountains, just east of the Divide where we had camped. While standing at her grave, gazing about the Shoshone village, I was overcome with the deepest sense of remorse – from which I found myself uttering, “What have we done!” As my remorse expanded beyond the Shoshone People, to include earth itself, a booming, demanding voice echoed within me: “WHO WILL SPEAK FOR EARTH!” This voice I experienced as that of Chief Joseph. I did not respond.
I left the gravesite to visit the nearby trading post where I wandered into a room near the back. Here, I was welcomed by a young woman I presumed to be Shoshone. It seemed like she had been expecting me. She said she had something to show me, then led me into another room in which was displayed a white buckskin dress decorated with white eagle feathers. She explained this Shoshone ceremonial dress was worn only for very special or sacred occasions.
Some years later, in the middle of the night, I was forcefully aroused from a deep sleep by a very strong intentional presence that accompanied a booming demanding voice, “WHO WILL SPEAK FOR EARTH!” Startled, I sat straight up in bed and, surprising even myself, answered aloud, “I will!”
Finally, one day while being led along a desert path by a young child, we stopped to admire a lizard. With youthful sincerity, he asked, “Is this part of nature?” It was then that I felt compelled to act on my commitment – to act on my “I will!” In a matter of a few days, the understanding, given during my own time in the desert, flowed into written words… words of “Earth Speaking.”
On Being Disconnected
Terry P. Anderson; December 2, 2013, PA
Early this fall, I was camping with my son in the Wind River Mountains. I have been doing this for over thirty years. Lately, and in particular this year, I have come to recognize that I am approaching the end of the trail with regard to the rigors of this trip. With that in mind, I decided that I would leave the comfort of my tent – nights often fall below freezing at this time of the year – and go out and observe the late night sky… that time of night that reminds us of the old saying, “It is always darkest before the dawn.”
Over the years I have come to see and appreciate how different the night sky looks at this time… not only in terms of where particular stars are, but also for the experiencing of the vastness and depth of the universe, uniquely present at this time. This year I was camped in a spot that was especially suited to late night appreciation of the sky. My tent was set up in the open, about thirty feet or so from the edge of a lake… an edge that itself dropped sharply into the water.
On the particular night of memory I crawled from my tent – one man tents require such an exit – pushed myself erect and walked towards the edge of the lake. As I approached the lake, I was struck by its calmness, an icy calmness, a smoothness of surface unlike any I had ever witnessed. Off to my right, I noticed the bright reflection of a star; and as I squared myself to better see Mount Victor – the organizing landmark for our campsite – I saw before me, at my feet, the Big Dipper… upside down, with its mouth open to me… an opening that created within me a compelling sense of being drawn towards, of being invited in… a real impulse of stepping off the edge… of jumping joyfully into the waiting arms of the Big Dipper. As I paused to contemplate this, I looked up and saw the Big Dipper sitting, perfectly balanced on the top of Mount Victor; Victor not being reflected upon the water given the level of darkness and the absence of light beyond starlight. As I stood before this scene, the natural amazement of “Wow!” continued to deepen… to penetrate within, innerly reaching depths not previously experienced. And, as is not uncommon for me, a process of reflective questioning began… a questioning of what is this… this which I am seeing and so deeply experiencing… a questioning that eventually brought forth clarity, a clarity of seeing, of thought, that this is beauty… an expression and experience of beauty present in the creation, a beauty possible only through the Source of creation… a true connection to the Source beyond anything I had known.
Throughout the trip, I did live up to my intent, rousing myself from my tent to breathe in and feast my eyes on that which appeared before me. And on several of those nights, I did see the reflection of the Big Dipper in the water… but a much fuzzier picture than that night, a night when the reflection on the polished mirror of the lake was clearer, more intense than the actual image of the dipper against the darkest of skies. So while I did not have a repeat of that forever special night, I did have another late night experience, a very different experience, a very intense experience. A few nights after the night of beauty, I found myself fully awake, preparing myself to leave my tent and embrace the late night sky. As I lay there, some images entered, imposing themselves on my mind… a mind occupied with expectations of beauty. Beauty expectations were quickly and forcefully displaced with a plethora of ever changing, fast moving, increasingly alive images… images I began to experience as a cacophony of image and voice… an overwhelming crescendo of negativity, of coarse energy… of faces and voices urging me, compelling me to purchase, to do, to hate, to follow them, and on and on… an intensity that kept increasing, penetrating further within me… a suffocating grasp that I could not turn off. From a growing sense of helplessness and fear, an inner voice began to cry out: “No!…No!…No!..” As breathing became more difficult, I, with anxious vigor, unzipped my tent, and rolled out onto the ground. As I lay there looking up at the sky, breathing began to return; and slowly the unnerving voices and images began to diminish and disappear. At last I could freely breathe again, fully inhale the crisp fresh air. I got up and walked to the edge of the lake. The dipper was fully visible in the sky. The lake was gently rippled; a fuzzy but reassuring image lay upon it. And as is my pattern, that which I had innerly experienced was the source of a questioning, a prayerful questioning common to this time of potential… a process of reflecting and contemplating out from which emerged a clear answer… that this was an experience of hell – of being disconnected from the Source, the Source of all, of the whole of creation.
After returning home, some ongoing reflection and interaction has brought forth some additional seeing and understanding… seeing and understanding relevant to this time of potential… a time for moving towards wholeness, away from that which divides… a time for working for all children, all children in the world.
Beauty, the inner experience of the beauty of creation, works to keep us connected to the Source, to that which is beyond ourselves, the Source of each and all. It works to remind us that we are not the source. It moves us in a direction of a more wholistic seeing and honoring of the Source… a wholeness that embraces the creation side of the Source, the intent and intended ways of working that lie within the whole of creation… within ourselves, within the whole of life… an intentionality that is frequently not present in our ideologies and pursuits.
Moving towards wholeness, within and among ourselves, will require a more wholistic seeing and understanding of the Source… a coalescence of intent… intent and intended ways of working as lifted up in the word and the works… a coalescence made possible through the intuition of wholeness… the intuition we call upon to access wisdom, the wisdom of intent. Moving towards wholeness is much more akin to a path of beauty, than the path depicted in my experience of hell.
The Living Philosophy of Potential… https://pathofpotential.org
