My favorite Quechua word is yanantin, which means the union of dissimilar energies. There's even a mountain named after it.
Apu Yanantin.
This post is about the yanantin of Unity and separation. I'll begin with a statement from my Teacher:
Unity and separation walk hand in hand, side by side.
The Earth plane is a realm of duality. I’m right and you’re wrong. It’s either this way /or that way.
The result of duality is separation.
Right now, without naming specific topics or events, it's clear that separation is raging. We see this daily on the news, and unfortunately, some witness it just outside and inside their doors. Where has our humanity gone? Why have so many people forgotten that Unity is the foundation of Life? That:
We are spiritual beings having a human experience, all unified within a mysterious, Divine energetic.
Over twenty-five years ago, I remembered one of my core incarnational intentions—to grow the capacity to perform miracle healings. It would be my means of healing separation and restoring faith in the Divine. If a person experienced a miracle healing, wouldn't they automatically remember Unity?
To live this intention with integrity, I/human me, had to learn about and experience separation firsthand, and then walk a personal healing path to resolve it. So, before I/spirit me, left the spirit realm and moved through the Birth Gateway into conception, I chose to participate in a Master Class with a family who would teach me how separation is internalized, lived, and perpetuated.
I incarnated with these lofty goals on April Fool’s Day, 1953.
The lineage of separation in my nuclear family began long before I was born. It was definitely a theme on my mother’s side. Here are a few stories:
My great-grandmother, Hannah, was forced by her father to marry an older man she did not love. She had four children. When they were all under ten, the family left their homeland in Eastern Europe and traveled by ship to the United States. Her only daughter, my future grandmother, was five years old.
Hannah was not well. Back then, illness was an option immigration authorities could use to refuse entrance, and when the family of six arrived, she was turned away. Suddenly, in a new country without her mother, abandonment imprinted itself upon the soul of my future grandmother, and survival kicked in. A few months later, the children were abandoned again, this time by their father, who left them to be raised by an aunt they barely knew, who already had ten children. He was never seen or heard from again.
My grandmother survived, and in her late teens, married my grandfather and created a family of her own—two girls and one boy.
Which comes first? Spiritual amnesia? Abandonment? Separation?
Her husband/my maternal grandfather (whose ancestry I know little about) molested his youngest daughter/my mother and disowned his son for marrying outside of the faith. And my grandmother... It's hard to say. Growing up, she was the only adult I truly loved and felt loved by. I know she secretly saw her son. And whenever I complained about my mother, she made excuses for her. Was she complicit in her husband's darkest actions? Or was she so much in her own survival that she was unaware? I don't know.
Judging by the stories my father shared about his childhood and my experiences of his parents/my paternal grandparents, separation existed for generations before his birth. I do know that his mother did not have an ounce of nurturing in her heart, and his father excluded his son from his will.
My two sets of grandparents inherited and passed on ancestral abandonment and separation by manifesting their wounds within their nuclear families, which meant that both of my parents were born into separation legacies. One of the countless ways they embodied this was by abusing and later disowning both of their daughters.
My Teacher said, Unity exists always, even in the direst manifestations of separation.
My sister did not have the emotional strength to break free of our childhood experiences, and after suffering most of her life, died peacefully in her sleep at forty-two. She left behind a son whom she relinquished for adoption at birth.
And then there's me. I married a man with his own separation legacy. After our divorce (and my parental disownment), he perpetuated it by aligning with my parents against me. This long-lasting affront was disastrous for our son, who, no matter how good a mother I tried to be, was raised within a crazy-making cesspool of separation. To add insult to injury, upon the early death of my ex-husband, we discovered he had written our son out of his will.
Back to the present time.
Spiritual amnesia is fertile soil for the growth of a duality. A prolific weed, its bountiful regeneration becomes a substrate for separation, which then manifests as survival and allows for malicious actions. How else could a father abandon his children? Molest his daughters? How else could a mother allow the molestation? What would make a parent disown their child? Omitting a child from their will makes separation a deathbed statement.
I’m wondering… Is spiritual amnesia a hallmark of being human? Is duality cellular? Does being abandoned always lead to feeling separate? Is it possible to heal the legacy of separation within a realm of duality?
What do you think?
If duality and separation are cellular, we can only change from within. Use our hearts and minds to heal our separation wounds. Make a daily choice to grow compassion and forgiveness for ourselves and one another. Use every opportunity that comes our way to not only fertilize the memories of our spiritual foundation, but live them. One by one, I believe we can make an impact on the legacy of separation. I see my son, daughter-in-law, and grandson helping humanity take this evolutionary leap.
What are some of your family stories? How have they affected your life?
I'd love to hear from you.
My Master Class about separation was powerful, and I am still unlearning some of the teachings I internalized. It's a life path, one I have named: The Path of Faith and Trust. And yes, I've discovered that a miracle healing is only an opportunity to remember and live Unity. I certainly incarnated with grandiose intent.
Thank you for doing your part to heal the legacy of separation and live Unity.
8 comments
Hello Annie
I would love to tell you my story if you could write it for me. You write beautifully and so from the heart 💜 I have no such talent but I am a survivor that at my age is still trying to figure out how I made it and became the fair, trusty, generous person I feel to be.
Clebia, Thank you for your feedback. I’m thinking… Maybe your story doesn’t need to be written, just spoken. I’m happy to talk about that. I am a good listener. And I think you “made it” because you chose the highest path. Annie
I need some digestive enzymes to absorb all of that! Amazing ! Thought provoking and sad too. Thanks Annie. You laid that out beautifully. It’s so intense… and how prevalent that abandonment and abuse was and still is. Some very broad and deep societal healing is needed.
Thank you for showing this through your own personal story. Love Sally
Sally, Thank you so much for reading and sharing your experience. I’m sending you some “digestive enzymes.” Annie
Annie,
Thank you so much for that history. It touched me and I remembered some things I wrote last week. I still deal with the loss. But a quote came to me from Elizabeth Gilbert of all people in something I read that “transformation equals loss and liberation.” There’s a positive slant to that. And all you say reminds me of the connection we have with humanity. With each and every person. And they can be very small things, but so very important. Thank you thank you thank you for reminding me.
Barbara, I’m so grateful that my words reminded you of our connection with humanity. In Unity Always, Annie
This is as powerful a write as there has ever been. In every way, on every level it’s a miracle healing. Thank you. It’s all love.
LJ, Another perspective about what a miracle healing can be. Thank you for your reflection. Yes. In the beginning, middle, and end, It’s all love. Annie