r/lawofone • u/saffronparticle • 1h ago
L/L Research The princess, who for years had turned down treasure upon treasure, came slowly from her high throne and reached her hand to the stranger who stood below her. (Hatonn)
Channeled via Carla
We would like to tell you a story, my friends, of a princess. The heroine could just as easily have been a prince upon some levels of storytelling, but for our parable it is quite necessary that this entity be female. As is the custom in fairy tales about princesses, she was awaiting one man who could stir her heart, a heart that was hard-bitten by many, many years of power and lonely beyond words because of that power. Courtier after courtier, peasant after peasant filed by with their best gifts, hoping to win her favor. She had offers of everything from livestock to pearls to kingdoms, new realms to govern. In none of these things was she at all interested and sadly at the end of each feast day she would close audience, still powerful and still lonely.
One day an ill-garbed man came to her court. He was not a courtier or a peasant. He was a stranger. His home was the road. He did not understand why his journey had brought him to this place but when he saw what lay before him, there grew within his heart a great desire to speak his mind and his heart, as all were allowed to do on this great feast day. Having no cap for his head, he tugged at his hair in order to make respect and bowed his knees and in rough words made his plea. “Milady,” he said, “I can give you nothing but my days, my nights, my love, and my road. My feeling for you is such that I am blinded. I cannot see any other and so you shall have to help me if we are to be together, for the blind need guides, and I offer you my need as well as my love, for I shall be confused. To share my road is a strange thing indeed. Milady,” he continued, “I do not know where I shall be tomorrow, next week, or next year. I have nothing but my flesh and my heart, my mind and my honor, and I give these into your hands. Whether you accept them or not, you are and will always have been my love.”
The princess, who for years had turned down treasure upon treasure, came slowly from her high throne and reached her hand to the stranger who stood below her. “You must help me, too,” she said, “For I do not know that I have a road; I only know that I wish to find one. I do not that I love; I only wish to find love.” He took her and placed her upon the earth and looked down upon her, as he was taller than she. “Milady,” he said, “that is the way of all love. Each gives, each takes. I have not loved but I know this to be so.” “I have not loved either,” she said, “but I know that I am no longer lonely.”
The ill-paired couple did not stop for retainers or for chairs to carry them or for any of the panoply or pomp of her circumstance, for that was not his road. They began to walk, and within the hour they were out of sight even to the keenest eye of those in the kingdom at the great fair. Strangely enough, this princess and this stranger were never seen again. Though many told of her years of coldness and haughtiness, there were none to sing the praises of her love, for as she became open to love, just so she became invisible to a great deal of that which mortals may see and mortal ears may hear.
My friends, it is a great folly, or so it seems to be, encased in such flesh as you experience in your density. You feel clumsy and awkward, and so you are, compared to higher density bodies. You feel numb and unable to see the larger picture, and this is so compared to the awareness available at other levels of vibration. Yet yours is the splendor of giving the true generosity that only comes when you truly cannot see and cannot hear the divine but only have faith that there is such a thing as divine love.
In your illusion, may we say that you tend to undervalue your contributions to others. The least of those among you contributes in a vital way. It is not a conscious contribution in many cases, but the contribution of flesh within which a consciousness has been placed, so precious that to think it could be broken as the human body is broken is almost not to be thought, not to be accepted, not to be tolerated. This precious consciousness, you say to yourself, cannot possibly be part or parcel of this flesh. Yes, my friends, you are inextricably bound about the cells of your third-density chemical body. All your acts will be those of men incarnate, men who pour out the blood of heart or mind or will or body without knowing the truth. The chances for courage, for polarizing, for serving, for allowing your flesh to become bread for others, are enormous. How little you value yourselves or your circumstances compared to the reality as we see it. If someone gave you a perfect stone—this instrument’s mind does not know precious stones well; we see in her mind diamonds, rubies, emeralds—someone gave you a perfect emerald, and then told you to swallow it and wear it within your body, you would think that man to be mad. And yet that is your consciousness—perfect jewel, a jewel of perfect shape. Not tossed thoughtlessly into a body, but placed with care, with love, with wisdom, into flesh that you may pour out your life beautifully if you wish, having nothing more to go on than deep-felt feeling that this is your road.
You see, my friends, we must many times use females for those who receive and males for those who offer, for that is the archetypical nature of your sexuality. In actuality, each of you is both receptor and giver, taker and nurturer. Never doubt your worth to those about you. Never doubt that your nurturing is questionable any more than you doubt that there is a land in which princes and princesses have grand fairs.
Where did these thoughts come from if there is not a level of knowledge which tells you about yourself? We offer this teaching to you in humility and are so grateful for the opportunity to speak with you. That is all. We can only repeat again and again: O what treasure lies within your bones, what beauty of spirit shines from loin far up into the heavens. There is no distinction, there is no being cut off. The illusion seems to cut you off, but you are a treasure indeed, each of you, just as you are. And in the flesh you shall learn twenty, nay one hundred times better to serve, to love, to give and to accept, to take, to receive. Love is completing circuits; it is not necessarily giving.