Burnt Offerings

Yesterday I was outside and noticed again the box of old letters I'd dragged out of the garage to go through. I'd left it outside because it had been peed on by some industrious cat, and it was stinky. There were still a few old letters left in the box, and I began poking through them. Then I noticed at the very bottom was a case for eyeglasses. I've been wearing older glasses these days, as my fancy newer bifocals keep breaking and I haven't wanted to spend money to buy new ones yet. So I thought I might have found another old pair to wear.

But when I opened up the case, much to my surprise, I found a long, musty smelling letter, written about 23 years ago, in my own handwriting. It was an extremely unhappy letter, a desperate letter, written when I felt trapped by cruel circumstances, and frightened by what the future would bring. In particular, there was great anxiety over money matters, as I'd just had a large financial setback.

Reading through the long letter, which I'd totally forgotten writing, brought back an echo of the nasty emotions I'd been experiencing at the time I wrote it. And I thought: "This is no good to keep around here. It is holding the energy of fear and limitation. It should be gotten rid of immediately!" And then that side of me that always has a joke to crack chimed in, thinking: "Well, NO WONDER I haven't won the lottery yet, with this potent storehouse of bad juju overshadowing my life!!" It felt as if desperation and hopelessness was just ooozing out of this letter. It seemed most foul and loathsome.

At once, I lept up with the abominable document and rushed inside, pausing only to grab a butane lighter. I went to the kitchen sink and lit the letter on fire, where it lept into flames as if it had been waiting for the chance to do so! In seconds it was over. The kitchen reeked of burnt offerings, and the energy stored within the letter had finally been released, to find other, more joyful, forms to take. I felt great relief, as if a painful boil had been lanced from my psyche.

And then I brought the blackened remains outside, to photograph their final resolution, as I picked the husk of darkness up and crushed it, leaving only ashes to be blown away by the cleansing wind. And now the future is open for all good to flow my way- rivers of milk and honey, I welcome you; blessings of all kinds, I invite you in, as I smile with gratitude.

The End?

No.

A New Beginning!