2023 the year we learn to listen to life

Week 7--in which we ask "where are you" and She answers 

Friends, soul writers, mystics, witches, and lovers of prayer,

What is it about February? There’s something sacred about this month, though I didn’t know it or see it for a very long time.

But now, as I sit in deep soul writing and look back at all that has happened February after February after February, a pattern emerges. A pattern not of any kind of arrival or answer, but a pattern of support.

A pattern that proves She is always here. Always listening. Always pointing a way to move closer to Her.

Here are a few things that happened in February 2018—a year my life turned inside out from spiritual author and teacher into prayer artist. I didn’t see these experiences as special at the time, and I couldn’t know what they portended, but now I see that day-after-day, She was preparing me for the arrival of prayer artist.

Somebody whispered prayer artist in my left ear around 4 am the morning of Sunday, February 25, 2018. I didn’t look at a clock, but I still remember how my body curled into the fetal position with shock. My body knew that prayer artist would change everything. Everything.

But this whisper didn’t come out of nowhere, although it felt like it at the time. I see now, looking back at that precious February, that many many seeds were being planted.

I had begun that year as I began every year since Writing Down Your Soul came out in 2009, planning my courses to match my books. The year always opened with a deep soul writing course, followed by Soul Vows, then a course on how to Find Your Soul’s Purpose, and on through the year ending in November and December with The Lotus and the Lily.

I already had a massive wall calendar in my office that reminded me of the dates. And all the Thursdays were marked with episodes for my Soul-Directed Life Radio Show (which Unity closed in 2022).

On February 1, I thought I knew how 2018 would unfold. But in my journal, there is a cryptic note that in the night I heard:

You are not breathing, you are being breathed
You are not singing, you are being sung
You are not dancing, you are being dance
You are not praying, you are being prayed
You are not loving, you are being loved
You are not painting, you are being painted
You are not creating, you are being created
You are not writing, you are being written
You are not forgiving, you are being forgiven

I think this litany was a precursor to the rest of this magical month. And to the life to come.

On February 5, I started to pray Ho’oponopono, and for some reason, when I got to the line about forgiving my mother and father and ex-husband, I blurted out, “Oh for heaven’s sake, my mother is forgiven.” And I turned to Archangel Michael and said, “Show me the first person who silenced me.”

And he did!

Suddenly there was a male presence in the room and immediately I knew who he was. I knew that the first person who silenced me had been a beloved husband three thousand years ago. I was stunned out of my mind but had to finish the prayer. The next morning a profound prayer, “If I Forgave You” flowed out of my hand onto my journal. I didn’t know what to do with it, but I knew it mattered.

And I knew that that prayer was about much more than forgiving one person. Because he’d been my husband, I realized that when I forgave him—when I cut the negative patriarchal aka cords that changed him from a loving husband into an abusive patriarch—I also freed all our children and children’s children for 80 generations. Right down to today.

That means praying for someone centuries ago affects us and the people around us today.

Is that possible? Did that really happen? Is prayer THAT powerful? Looking at my 2018 journal, I see that these were the questions I explored throughout February.

I turned to Kahu Lahela for confirmation, and thanks to soul writing, I can now read pages of conversations with her. And I can see the seeds that became seven Ho’oponopono prayer intensives with her over the next three years.

On Feb 16, I woke hearing “forgiveness at the speed of love.”

I always write what I hear in the night on the left side of my journal.

It's a powerful practice because you don't know what those messages mean at the time, sometimes not for years. But if you keep them you can revisit them and watch their wisdom unfold.

The date, February 16, matters because it’s the anniversary of the day I found an osprey on the ground around the corner from my house in 2000. Rigor mortis had not even set in. I took the bird home and called Charlotte Starfire, my first teacher and asked her what it meant.

She said, “I think I know, but it’s not for me to tell you. Ask the bird.”

So I did. And the bird “answered” in soul writing: “Fear Not.”

I revisit that sacred experience every February 16. That year, 2018, I wrote for pages and pages reminding myself to fear not. Fear not my body, my age, speaking to large audiences, writing new books. Fear not. Just follow where Sophia wants me to go.

On Feb 17, I woke hearing “praying at the speed of love.” That phrase would soon become my mantra, my theme song.

And then, on Feb 18, this prayer came through. I didn’t recognize it as a prayer at the time. Nor did I know what to do with it. But I see now that I was calling, calling, calling my Beloved Sophia to my side.

In two voices. My voice asking is soft. Her Voice answering is loud, strong, clear.

You know what happened next.

I’ve told the story repeatedly. She answered alright. She woke me on the 25^th whispering, “prayer artist.” Until today sitting with my 2018 journal, I always thought prayer artist was a surprise. That it came out of nowhere. But I see now, it didn’t. She had been whispering in my ear for a long long time.

I give you this prayer now. Speak it aloud. Perhaps it will fly out the window like a gold-embossed card, inviting Her to reveal Her presence to you.

Where Are You?

©Janet Conner 2-18-2018 waking

Where are You?

In this: my heart
my mind
my body

In this: my hands
my fists
my toes

In this: my eyes that don’t quite see
my ears that can’t quite hear
my gut that speaks the sacred language no

In this: my wild mind
my aching body
my breaking heart

In this: my twisting-turning life
my crushing choices
my foolish heart

In this: my attempts to gather
my necklace of sighs
my hands in service, to what, I do not know

In:       the dreams that escape me
the coffee that wakes me
the earth that sustains me
the patterns that tease me

Is this You?
Is this You?

Where are You?

In this: the questions I ask of you, of life, of the future, of the past

In this: my seeking to find and to be found
my invisible longing to remember the ancient story that brought us here, that brought me here

In this: my knowing in a secret place
that I was You and am You still

In the words that want to be written
the songs that beg to be sung
the tears that demand be shed

In this: my heartbeat still moving,
my voice still sounding
my feet still dancing

In this: the book beside me
the prayer within me
the grail that is me

In this: my sacred howls
my prostrate body
my ceaseless longing

You are

You are here

You are always here

You are

Right Here

to remembering She is right here,

Janet

PS: I'm working on the big intensive for 2023:

The A.R.T of Becoming a Witch: How to Activate, Remember, and Trust Your Body's Natural Intuitive Senses.

Watch for it next Sunday!

website: janetconner.com

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