ONENESS: TOAD Part 2

"In the beginning there was oneness amongst all creation. This gave way to manyness. But now manyness has almost reached its zenith, and it is time to return now to oneness, but a oneness with consciousness, whereas before there was no consciousness or awareness."*

In November 1997, I made my first pilgrimage to Meherabad. I brought with me experiences I had had with two birds and three animals. Each had revealed a message only for me. The occurrences were an expansion of abilities I was already aware of—metaphysical by nature.  I had learned the creatures' identities from David Cousins,* a teacher who I periodically met with in workshops and readings. His words had been, "The bird will come, the bat will come, the fox will come, the wolf will come, and the bird will come again." I had listened without any questions. With each appearance, I had either known what I was to do, or had understood what I was being taught.

Twenty years have now passed, during which time certain other birds and animals have been established as messengers. I have both enjoyed the familiarity, as well as respected their import. I admit, though, that the most recent encounter stretched my incredulity—momentarily. Then I had let go of attempting to understand, been a participant, and accepted a message—later noted as the first of several.

I had been sitting at my kitchen table on the night of January 28, 2020, working on the April 1 blog titled:  "Oneness: Frogs: Part 1. My inspiration had been a painting done by my grandson when he was younger—he is now a high school freshman. Seeing it at the time, I'd known I would use it in a blog one day so I'd taken a photo. At eight o'clock, as a regularly scheduled alarm sounded, I had checked two kitchen security doors (one an iron grid) and looked to see that the overhead security light was on. It was. I live alone, and my home is located in a field with only a few other dwellings. After assuring myself that all was well,  I'd returned to writing.

On the following night, January 29, I had left the table, where I was again writing, and repeated my closing routine—until something caught my attention. I'd paused and peered through the screen, focusing on what in the overhead light's beam appeared to be a lump on my stone step. Unable to identify the lump, I'd opened the iron grid door. A toad was eyeing me, unmoving. It seemed to be precariously close to the edge of the rough cement. Only later would I see the humor in this. At a loss for words, I slowly sat down—one leg bent and my other outstretched and pointing at the toad. Still, it showed no apprehension. Then I had realized—this was not a toad lost on its way across my compound. This was an obvious visit.  

My realization is, "When living with a view that there are mysteries unknown to us, the arrival of what is hard to believe—yet we're experiencing it—may be our softening, with a resulting opening to what has existed seemingly apart from us all along, and thus apart from our human understanding."

*  Meher Baba, April 20, 1933, Kashmir. trustmeher.org/meher-baba-messages/creation and in Ivy O. Duce, How a Master Works, 1st ed. (San Francisco, CA: Sufism Reoriented, Inc., 1975), 451-454.

*  David Cousins, A Handbook for Light Workers, ed. Jean Prince (Bath, UK: Barton House, 1993).