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This post started out as a comment, a reply to Clarissa and Cheryl under my previous reblog post. I decided that its place is here, so it can be seen by a few more Dear Ones my heart aches that I cannot visibly honor as much as I would like to.

You are all life savers and I am on meadows of heaven with each one of you.


Dear Ones Clarissa and Cheryl,

I cannot but stand in humble awe before this universal synchronicity; in grateful admiration and adoration before you together here coming to save me as I had become a ranting little thing feeling utterly useless again, reaching the threshold of destructiveness. All I could think about was giving up, because I’d had enough of everything, myself included, when I received your responses here and started coming back to my senses. My considerately expressed despair might still cause you to feel some sadness; I apologize for this, and I pray that together we can continue transmuting our heaviness to perseverance and commitment to our missions in this world, as far away from them as the externals of our lives may seem to be leading us. Here is a warm threefold hug before we go on. I love you my sisters. I am so grateful to you, and for the weighty soul contract the three of us have obviously signed.

Thank you so much for your caring deep concern for Plutonia, Clarissa. And Cheryl, it’s perfectly OK that you didn’t mention her in your first comment; no sort of failure on your part. You always bless her just as my love for you always blesses all members of your family. Plutonia has never personally exchanged a word in English with anyone, but Clarissa has a Hadean connection to her because of both their challenging twelfth houses (my own gloom springs from elsewhere and is just as evident as my optimistic sunshininess, as I only have a protective Jupiter in my twelfth house touching on my Ascendant), whereas you have sensed Plutonia’s detachment from our blog and you never cease supporting her through me. I appreciate very much that we all do our best to be dancing harmoniously together. Above any other function our blogs may be serving, fostering a true heart family is the most important.

Blogging is over for Plutonia my sweethearts. At least until we find some sort of place in this world. It is the least of our problems that we have only this one ancient desktop computer which takes forever to load a simple page or save a large document and let alone play any video steadily, an anytime-about-to-collapse machine with which we have to be taking care of all sorts of authority-related obligations for ourselves and her mother in two countries.

Plutonia is very depressed. This trip in Germany she had not even asked for, did not help at all. Our life is all the more painful now after we both felt the hollows of those relatives’ spirits waiting to be filled also by us. They felt it too, albeit mostly on a barely conscious level, so I never give up hope that they, too, attract miracles for us all.

These excellent insights of Bethany Webster’s, the worst scenarios in her The Rupture of the Mother Line article, are only mildly hinting to what my Beloved has been going through all her life. She has not read it yet, and I don’t know if she ever will at all, because she doesn’t feel any words can help her anymore. She desperately needs action and we are so trapped here. She is a broken woman and still breathing here inside these four walls thanks to my light, which is often struggling to not be becoming a destructive fire. Her mother who still lives in another town, is a gravely damaged soul, something I had recognized right from the very start. I do not shy away from such problems, I would have left my last breath right after my first if I did, but I am such a misplaced healer, so like a fish out of the water without the ashram Plutonia sees I am really cut out to be working in, and in that respect she sometimes painfully wonders what I ever wanted a wife for, given also that my talents have always been so out of place in this German colony of a country, where her mother moved into in the seventies, in order be hailed like a queen come from the civilized world to enlighten the savages. She ascribes to her genuinely humanitarian daughter much of her failure to rule, and now her heavily drugged mind will not even consider the possibility that she has completed her lessons for this lifetime. Not that anything will change for the better if she leaves. It is getting harder and harder for the two of us to be feeling that our roles in each other’s lives have any worldly perspective. In material terms I have nothing to offer, and waiting to win the lottery sucks. We are so exhausted, our bodies ageing fast, and whatever blogging I manage to be accomplishing here is only life-saving with me disappearing in front of the screen in a separate room while she spends lonely days and nights on the couch in front of an old TV with just a few free channels. In the best case, I bathe myself in a paradise lake and can only bring back to her some bottles of healing water, whereas in the worst case I dump on her all my frustrations, feeling I have created an emotional mess in other people’s hearts, or simply suffering with their plights in a way almost incomprehensible to her when we ourselves don’t know if we will wake up to see another day. Or if we even want to. Too often before falling asleep have we prayed together to not wake up here again.

We deeply love one another, but we always have to struggle against almost uncontrollable negativity.

(Let me reverse these secondary sentences; the other way around is better for the always-half-full-glass type of person that I am: )

We always have to struggle against almost uncontrollable negativity, but we deeply love one another.

And you. We wouldn’t still be here without you, and I couldn’t love you more if you were my own blood sisters, girls. There is no need for you now to craft any replies here. After all, this is my reply to you. So let me kiss these two pairs of itchy-fingered hands calm and reassure you that whatever happens, all will be well for us all, as we work towards a desperately needed, loving matriarchy, of which we already experience the silent transition phase.

I thank you beyond eternity for embracing this honest fool of a brother, and one another, Cheryl and Clarissa, my saturnized beloved ones.

Every day praying for blessings in your lives,

I am on meadows of heaven with you.

Love and Hugs,