A week after visiting my mother, Anne and I have a light work day with about thirty people. In the morning we do an exercise in which we go back to the time of Atlantis. How did it feel to live in a society that was going under? How did you react? What primal fear or pain was triggered that you still carry with you today? And how can you change it?
In the afternoon we tune in to the war in Ukraine. Since the beginning of the war, I have energetically placed myself at the bottom of the statue of Saint Michael in Kiev, to put a protective field around the capital. Whether and how it works I don’t know – rationally that is always a bit difficult to grasp – but I am pleasantly surprised when the Russian troops return without having done anything. The column that advanced towards the capital has stranded in the outskirts of Kijev. This time we tune with the whole group to the city of Mariupol, the city that lies on the Black Sea and is almost completely destroyed. Recently, a theater where about a thousand children and civilians were hiding was bombed. The city fascinates me. During the meditation I realize that the name of the city undoubtedly comes from Maria polis, the city of Mary. My grandmother’s name was Maria and one of my namesakes is also Maria. When I was a student, we had set up a ‘Mary Club’ for fun. I invoke Mary to protect the people of the city. I feel how it is again the feminine energy that is needed to heal, to connect, to feel the pain. And to put a stop to the male energy that is out of balance, destructive and raping. Then Maria turns into the old Russian witch Baba Yaga. Baba Yaga is the crone, the black Madonna, the dark mother who bears the pain of war. I recognize my own mother’s pain.
“Look beyond the city,” says the Baba Yaga. “the key is in the Black Sea.”
Wonderful, I think. What does the sea have to do with it now? Perhaps it ties in with the exercise of Atlantis that morning?
At the end of the day I find a video about the Black Sea on Youtube. It turns out that Europe’s first civilization was located around this sea, which used to be a freshwater lake. Images of a paradisiacal civilization loom up, a garden of Eden. However, when the ice caps melted, a tidal wave crashed through the Bosphorus into the paradise valley and the entire civilization disappeared in the waves. It is the story we know from the Bible of the Flood in the time of Noah. This primordial disaster is deeply rooted in European history and seems to be continuing today: the disappearance of paradise and the forces of displacement, conquest, pain and horror that follow. Later, when I tune in to my guides, I get Baba Yaga’s voice through:
“I am the voice of the Baba Yaga. I am the ancient one, the ugly one, the revengeful one. I am the dark Madonna. The one from deep underneath the surface of the earth. I come to you in times of darkness, to teach you a lesson, to bow your head, to surrender to my wrath. I take the skulls of men who sacrilege the earth, who devour women and children in their aggression and inner pain. Stop your wars and fights and put down your weapons. Because I can’t forgive until you understand my message, until you bow down your head and kiss my feet.
I haven’t always been like this. I became the wrathful crone when humankind strayed from paradise. But when times were young, I was the goddess of the Earth. I was sleeping and dancing and playing in the Garden of Eden. Some called me Lillith. I created a paradise, near the sweet waters of the sea that you now call the Black Sea. But it my time it was called the source, the source of life.
It was the beginning of civilization. It was the cradle of humankind and from here people went into Europe, Asia, the Middle East. This high civilization was under my protection. Until humans connected to other sources, mixed with other intelligences. They wanted to know the power of good and evil, of duality, and so they left the Garden. They became victims and sacrifices of their own minds, of their own creations, and it ended in wars and slaughter – the things you see happening nowadays on your screens. And that’s why I became revengeful, wrathful. Not to punish or to destroy you, but to bring you back to the source.
I was the Mother of the children of Russia, of Ukraine, of Syria, Armenia, Belarus, Turkey, Rumania, all the Slavic people. I am still in their tales and in their folk stories. They remembered me as the ugly witch from the woods – and yes I was ugly. But look deeper, look beyond the outer appearance, and then you see my real essence, which is beauty, which is fertility, which is the Earth itself.
Return to me, kiss my soul and I become awake and will abundantly give you what you so much long for. I am your Mother. Don’t despise me, don’t turn away from m eh, don’t make my ugly. I can only express the pain and darkness that you give me.
I am the source of life and I can rise in your heart if you open the door for my soul.”
(04/04/2022)
When Anne and I are already on our way to Portugal, I lie awake one night and think of the people in Mariupol. The entire city has now been taken by the Russians, but about 1000 people are still underground in a factory on the edge of the sea, the Azovstal Steel Plant. Women, children and soldiers are entrenched and await a horrific end. They haven’t seen sunlight for two months. I think back to the cellar where my mother was during the war.
The next day I decide to do a meditation online. About 25 people join: we attune to the cellars under the factory and the people who survive there. It is a strong meditation and various images come to the participants:
“I see angels standing around the factory; I felt us standing in a big circle around Mariupol; I felt a lot of fear and sadness; I saw soft blue energy pouring into the basement. I took a four-year-old in my arms; I felt confusion among the soldiers; I felt tears; I set a protective dome over the city; I saw a Christ figure standing among the people there, and he said with very warm, comforting eyes: ‘Peace be with you.’ etc.
The next morning I wake up with a total sense of peace. I feel how my mother’s pain from World War II has completely transformed and become a healing force, which is now being used to help other people come out of their suffering. Nothing is for nothing. Everything is in divine order. By transforming the inner pain, the collective field is illuminated…
To be continued –
WARRIORS OF THE HEART
Reisverslag Portugal, tweede reis
Deel 2, Heling
Een week na het bezoek aan mijn moeder hebben Anne en ik een lichtwerkdag met zo’n dertig mensen. We doen in de ochtend een oefening waarin we teruggaan naar de tijd van Atlantis. Hoe voelde het om in een samenleving te leven die ten onder ging? Hoe reageerde je? Welke oerangst of pijn werd getriggerd die je nu nog steeds met je meedraagt? En hoe kun je die veranderen?
In de middag stemmen we af op de oorlog in Oekraine. Sinds het begin van de oorlog heb ik me energetisch onderaan het beeld van Sint Michael in Kijev geplaatst, om een beschermend veld om de hoofdstad te zetten. Of en hoe het werkt weet ik niet – rationeel is dat altijd een beetje moeilijk te vatten – maar ik ben blij verrast als de Russische troepen onverrichterzake terugkeren. De colonne die naar de hoofdstad optrok is in de buitenwijken van Kijev gestrand. Dit keer stemmen we met de hele groep af op de stad Mariupol, de stad die aan de zwarte zee ligt en bijna helemaal verwoest is. Onlangs werd een theater gebombardeerd waar zich zo’n duizend kinderen en burgers schuilhielden. De stad fascineert me. Tijdens de meditatie besef ik dat de naam van de stad ongetwijfeld afkomstig is van Maria polis, de stad van Maria. Mijn oma heette Maria en een van mijn doopnamen is eveneens Maria. In mijn studententijd hadden we voor de grap een ‘Mariaclub’ opgericht. Ik roep Maria aan om de mensen in de stad te beschermen. Ik voel hoe het opnieuw de vrouwelijke energie is die nodig is om te helen, te verbinden, de pijn te doorvoelen. En om de mannelijke energie die uit balans is, vernietigend en verkrachtend rondwaart, een halt toe te roepen. Dan verandert Maria in de oude Russische heks Baba Yaga. Baba Yaga is de crone, de zwarte Madonna, de duistere moeder die de pijn draagt van de oorlog. Ik herken de pijn van mijn eigen moeder.
‘Kijk verder dan de stad,’ zegt de Baba Yaga. ‘de sleutel ligt in de Zwarte Zee.’
Wonderlijk, denk ik. Wat heeft de zee er nu mee te maken? Wellicht sluit het aan bij de oefening van Atlantis van die ochtend?
Na afloop van de dag vind ik op Youtube en filmpje over de Zwarte Zee. Het blijkt dat de eerste beschaving van Europa zich rondom deze zee bevond, die vroeger een zoetwatermeer was. Beelden van een paradijselijke civilisatie doemen op, een tuin van Eden. Toen de ijskappen echter smolten stortte een vloedgolf via de Bosporus de paradijselijke vallei binnen en de hele beschaving verdween in de golven. Het is het verhaal wat we kennen uit de Bijbel van de Zondvloed in de tijd van Noach. Deze oerramp is diep geworteld in de Europese geschiedenis en lijkt nog steeds door te werken: het verdwijnen van het paradijs en de krachten van ontheemdheid, verovering, pijn en ontzetting die volgen. Als ik later afstem op mijn gidsen krijg ik de stem van Baba Yaga door:
“I am the voice of the Baba Yaga. I am the ancient one, the ugly one, the revengeful one. I am the dark Madonna. The one from deep underneath the surface of the earth. I come to you in times of darkness, to teach you a lesson, to bow your head, to surrender to my wrath. I take the skulls of men who sacrilege the earth, who devour women and children in their aggression and inner pain. Stop your wars and fights and put down your weapons. Because I can’t forgive until you understand my message, until you bow down your head and kiss my feet.
I haven’t always been like this. I became the wrathful crone when humankind strayed from paradise. But when times were young, I was the goddess of the Earth. I was sleeping and dancing and playing in the Garden of Eden. Some called me Lillith. I created a paradise, near the sweet waters of the sea that you now call the Black Sea. But it my time it was called the source, the source of life.
It was the beginning of civilization. It was the cradle of humankind and from here people went into Europe, Asia, the Middle East. This high civilization was under my protection. Until humans connected to other sources, mingled with other intelligences. They wanted to know the power of good and evil, of duality, and so they left the Garden. They became victims and sacrifices of their own minds, of their own creations, and it ended in wars and slaughter – the things you see happening nowadays on your screens. And that is why I became revengeful, wrathful. Not to punish or to destroy you, but to bring you back to the source.
I was the Mother of the children of Russia, of Ukraine, of Syria, Armenia, Belarus, Turkey, Rumania, all the Slavic people. I am still in their tales and in their folk stories. They remembered me as the ugly witch from the woods – and yes I was ugly. But look deeper, look beyond the outer appearance, and then you see my real essence, which is beauty, which is fertility, which is the Earth itself.
Return to me, kiss my soul and I become awake and will abundantly give you what you so much long for. I am your Mother. Don’t despise me, don’t turn away from me, don’t make my ugly. I can only express the pain and darkness that you give me.
I am the source of life and I can rise in your heart if you open the door for my soul.”
(04/04/2022)
Als Anne en ik alweer onderweg zijn naar Portugal lig ik op een nacht wakker en denk aan de mensen in Mariupol. De hele stad is inmiddels ingenomen door de Russen, maar zo’n 1000 mensen zitten nog onder de grond in een fabriek aan de rand van de zee, de Azovstal Steel Plant. Vrouwen, kinderen en soldaten hebben zich verschanst en wachten een afgrijselijk einde. Ze hebben al twee maanden geen zonlicht meer gezien. Ik denk terug aan de kelder waar mijn moeder tijdens de oorlog zat.
De dag daarna besluit ik online een meditatie te doen. Zo’n 25 mensen sluiten aan: we stemmen af op de kelders onder de fabriek en de mensen die er overleven. Het is een sterke meditatie en diverse beelden komen binnen bij de deelnemers:
‘Ik zie engelen om de fabriek staan; Ik voelde ons in een grote cirkel om Mariupol staan; Ik voelde heel veel angst en verdriet; Ik zag zachtblauwe energie de kelder binnenstromen. Ik nam een kind van vier in de armen; Ik voelde verwardheid bij de soldaten; Ik voelde tranen; Ik zette een beschermende koepel over de stad; Ik zag een Christusfiguur tussen de mensen daar staan, en hij zei met hele warme troostrijke ogen: ‘Peace be with you.’ etc.
De volgende ochtend wordt ik met een totaal gevoel van vrede wakker. Ik voel hoe de pijn van mijn moeder uit de tweede wereldoorlog helemaal is getransformeerd en een helende kracht is geworden, die nu wordt ingezet om andere mensen te helpen uit hun lijden te komen. Niets is voor niets. Alles is in goddelijke ordening. Door de innerlijke pijn te transformeren wordt het collectieve veld verlicht…
Wordt vervolgd –
