This journey of chapters written through the voice of 1HP is nearing its final page turn. Thanks to the Author holding my hand as I challenged through the mystical lands and curious characters that presented along the way, I have evolved. I am home.

Awareness that this pathway, having opened through a series of synchronistically divine orchestrations, was near its destination came in the days leading up to Tuesday, November 17, 2020. A court case I’ve been involved in since the spring of 2012 had a “conference” date scheduled for the 17th; one I had no intention of attending. I’d finished what I felt was my guided role in the process on October 18, 2019 when I filed an Affidavit and Memorandum in the case. These documents have spiritual and energetic significance too dense to detail in this writing, and it is not my intent to weigh down the lightheartedness of this piece with such content. However, it may hold value to mention (and link to) those legal papers simply because with their filing I felt release. A long time in coming, a major step nearing the precipice in a progressive, spiritual cycle of awakening closed when I time stamped those documents and threw them in the bin for processing. I was emotionally freed from the ties that bound further involvement, despite the case, itself, was ongoing. Only I was aware, it seemed, my divined role was complete and whatever happened after that was of no concern to me and my forward movement through life.

It was yet unknown when I awoke two days ago the morning would key open the lock to furthering and finalizing relief in my personal spiritual evolution toward the finding of my Hiraeth… my home.

 
It began in the wee, pre-dawn moments of the 17th when I was rifling through my computer bag looking for a note pad of paper I knew was there. It has been a few years since I’ve actually used the pad, but wanted to jot down a couple of thoughts as they came during a channeling session I was about to engage in. For reference, I usually don’t catalog those sessions, but when I do it is either through automatic writing with hands on device keyboard, or through audio recording as the session progresses. This was a first.

When I opened the bag I pulled out a book, The Conference of the Birds (translation of Attar’s 12th century works), and a smaller spiral notebook that only had a few sheets of blank paper in it – retained because I’m ridiculously frugal (a maternal conditioning) and kept under pretense of emergency – in order to move them out of the way to unveil the unused notepad I sought. When I pulled out the smaller spiral notebook I immediately noticed the scribbles of an address on one of those pages. “1 Court Street…” a note written on the 18th of October last year noting the location where I needed to file the legal documents mentioned (linked) above. I’d written it in the car after attempting to file in the main Clerk’s office in Riverhead, NY where most filings take place, but was told I had to bring them TO the Supreme Court and time-stamp myself. After leaving that office I got in my car, struggled to find the tools needed to write down what the young woman behind he counter had said, and finding the “emergency” pad and a purple, Bic pen, I used my lap as a stable surface and quickly scratched down the address – one in a building familiar to me from prior case interactions.

Seeing it present for the first time since October 2019, and this being the morning of that “conference” across the country I was not attending, I took pause.

 

The knowing was immediate. This wasn’t mere coincidence or chance, or even synchronicity. It was a message of guidance to bring awareness and acceptance of the closing words on the last page of the final chapter of The One Hiraeth Project.

Home. This case was about a home. My home. The physical structure and the state of mind of where and what is home. I could easily detail all the circumstances, both fact and feeling, that unfolded during the last 11 years since my mom’s passing on May 26, 2009 which led up to this knowing that a major cycle was closing, but that would take longer to share than it took to experience. What I can offer is that I’ve walked a camino of inner exploration that has introduced me to the dark, the light, and the space between.

This legal case was a test; one of endurance, will, and faith.

I was asked by my son to not sell our home until he returned from his own journey in upstate New York that would keep him committed for about 3 years. Once the terms of his contract were complete he wanted to know he could softly land in the familiar palm of his childhood home before taking flight into his own destiny as an adult. Forgoing my own plans, I agreed.

Within a couple of years the bank and I had a parting of agreement on the status of my loan, I believing the house had been paid off as a result of regular, long-standing principal-only payments and the bank’s records reflecting no such monies were ever received. For over a year I requested a complete accounting of my loan. The bank refused. When I alluded there was no reason for me to keep paying on a loan that may have been satisfied, the bank, preferring to quiet me instead of working with me filed a premature foreclosure action. It claimed via Affidavit to have personally served me the Summons and Complaint in commencement of that action, but no such service took place. Actually, no service of any kind was attempted.

I eventually became suspicious something was up when I began to get what are called Lis Pendens letters; correspondence from all sorts of solicitors expressing interest in buying, selling, or otherwise resolving issues related to a property. I was aware of these sorts of communications since I’d been associated with the practice of real estate in various capacities since the mid-1980’s. Once the volume of those letters reached an odd and unexpected capacity I went to the Courthouse and did some research that led to my discovering the bank’s filing and its false claim of Service.

The case continued from there until present day with my voice being heard therein as a non-lawyer participating “as a curtesy” as the Administrator of the Name (insert mine). This is a sovereign position anyone can take in a case without offering consent to participate in the legal “game” layered upon each of us as consciousness in human form. Since this process is a completely unrelated animal to the lighter purpose of this writing, I will leave further expressions as to what has occurred since on the side.

It may be of value to share that when you ask you actually do receive. It may take hours, days, months, years, or even lifetimes to find the delivered package waiting just outside your front door, but it will arrive. The box may not look the way you expected, and upon opening the contents may be a labyrinth of pieces to puzzle together, yet delivery on demand was made – in divine timing.

My son returned and never left – preferring the security and benefit of remaining at home. He lives in the property to this day. I ventured off in the spring of 2015 to begin a vagabond life of a house-sitter and regular at hostels and Airbnb’s in between as I traveled across the United States and parts of NSW and QLD Australia. I’ve met all sorts of characters along the way that sprinkled in their seasoning to my quest for higher spiritual awareness; all adding their bits to that box of puzzle pieces needed to deliver my “ask;” one requested at the time of my mom’s transition… “Is there more?

Then, on February 1, 2017 I met with a man who would change my life and I his. He was the family lawyer – one who had assisted me in placing our house in a Trust years ago. We met to assign my beneficial interest in the Trust to my son, effectively giving my son control over the property and me the freedom to move forward, unencumbered. That meet up led to a quick, strong friendship between the lawyer and myself founded in a shared interest in that otherworldly.

I had recently flown back from my first trip to Australia goaled with a permanent return once I wrapped up a few local loose ends. Despite the eager encouragements of my Aussie friends to remain in OZ and let the family chips fall where they may, I wanted to put my house in order (so to speak) to assure my son was empowered to create his own future without need for further intervention on my part. (Remember… the bank’s case was ongoing.) The idea was to remain in the States for about 2-3 months and fly back to Australia for good thereafter. A series of divine interventions changed those plans, so instead of taking my annual, cross country Amtrak trip from Penn Station to San Francisco that would catapult a west coast flight to OZ, I returned from San Francisco to Long Island to begin what I thought was an adventure into the unraveling of the unknown with my lawyer-friend.

Again, divine intervention. Throughout the next 3+ years into present day each time I thought we were about to launch from a newly grounded foundation the unexpected would redirect and restructure that path. Each off-ramp added more and more space between us both in distance and in momentum until I finally felt we’d reached the end of our desire. The thing is, so many of these path crossings, too, added more ingredients needed to flavor my ask, yet on the surface no one (not even either of us) could have seen it coming.

This ask of mine, as I have discovered, has been one of mutual benefit. I was able to experience years of “more,” in all its shapes, textures, and dimensions, and in exchange that of the unseen received an ask, as well… bringing to light the sanctioned commission of rampant injustice within the legal system by those elite, and the systematic attempts to extinguish sovereignty as a recognized component of inalienable, human liberty within such structure.

As a consequence of filing the aforementioned Affidavit and Memorandum I assured a sort of alchemization of elements serving to balance the scales of right and wrong, actual truth verses manufactured truth, as well as refocus upon the foundational purpose of such a construct – to enforce justice without influence of privilege, by placing those writings in the “public domain” where they would exist, survive, and remain as a part of the permanent record, indefinitely.

Such filings identified clear and irrefutable facts of misconduct perpetrated and ignored in this case by those of perceived authority and sway in the legal system while simultaneously shining an even brighter light on the intentional and methodic erasure of sovereignty from the landscape of social awareness effectively disempowering those freeborn from being cognizant that their inalienable rights and liberties had been purposely and intentionally hidden from them, disregarded, and masked through effective, generational programming of conditioned consent.

By extension, these documents further served to demonstrate that if such blatant and acceptable practices had taken place, with knowledge, through plausible deniability by those in power, it was more than possible these common practices thus actioned as acceptable permeate far beyond this specific case. Big concept. I may never have direct knowledge of the end game use fulfilled by such filing; a mastermind design of divine creation purposed beyond my immediate comprehension. But I don’t need to know. I have faith. I’d done what was asked by means guided, through a lifetime of choice gifting me with the intellect, the resources and the opportunity to be in that circumstance at that point in time to effectuate the outcome completed. The finely spidered web of energetic exchange between my self and my God, one directing such public action through soulful connection, was so subtle its perception would be lost in translation by most. One way the unseen works its magic within the construct of physical existence.

Yet, it all came together two days ago on the morning of the 17th as the 3/4 page of scribbles on that boney spiral notebook tumbled face up onto my bed. Tumbled… Tumblers… My life was a series of cogs tumbling into placement within the clockwork of mechanics of that which I call life in such a way as to assure I had the experience and the resources to answer my own question. Free will choice had been offered again and again. Will I turn left or right? Will I follow this career or that one. This relationship or that one? Am I willing to face adversity head on in order to delight in the sparkles of light in komorebi display found therein? Or, would I play within the rules inside the box of constructed reality? Experience after experience presented. Resource after resource puzzled my delivery. Choice. Free will. Awareness. Expansion. All revealed in a single moment of knowing flowing from the silent presentation of an address penned on a hand-sized notepad.

Through exchange within the contrast of divine plan we are offered an opportunity to discover “the more.”

I am home.

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(next week will be the final entry to this blog, which will then remain an online archive for those who wish to experience the journey.)

 

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Note: Banner / Blog page placeholder image is of my former home on Long Island, NY. Taken just before sunrise on 2/24/17. To view the full-sized, uncropped version in new window click here.