Martin Luther King
MLK is relieved by death instantly because the voice he brought in is no longer pushing him, no longer aggravating him into passion and aggression. He can now breathe easily without fear of retribution and without fear of letting others down. In death, we realize how tightly strung he was in order to accomplish what he needed to in such a short period of time. Like a windup toy that is wound to breaking point, he needed release. On earth he found it in women and speech, in death it was granted permanently. All I can say is that he was a magnificent warrior on Earth whose words will live on for as long as there is life. His passion ignited the same in others, sparking them to their own greatness, no matter how large or small.
I enter meditation this morning hoping to do an interview with Martin Luther King. I have been looking forward to this for a couple of days. I ask to speak to MLK. He steps right in. The very thing I notice first is what a massive personality he possessed in life. It reminds me of how some people shrink into their bodies, while others like Martin fill it to overflow. He is immensely solid. No wonder people followed him.
I look into his eyes and see an image in them of him at the age of 7, and already he is feeling the seriousness of the leader, the seriousness of the world that is at odds with itself. He doesn’t yet know how to express it as he is a young boy, but it is stirring. By the age of 13 his voice is starting to grow, the voice that would change a nation. Again, he doesn’t know what to do with it, but it is filling his throat and directing his steps. Nothing he possesses could ever stop that voice from speaking out for his people and any others in the world whose voices had also been beaten down or stilled.
The images move on to him in his early twenties. Stirring within him is the power of a locomotive, plain and simple. He could not and would not, be stopped in his quest to speak. He was born with no governor on his voice or thoughts. He was born to express; therefore, he would express. Mid to late twenties shows what a man he truly is, again so real and rock solid. When it comes to women, he is like a bird dog on the trail. Nothing will stop him. His personal compass is set to speaking and enjoying women.
I ask to see his birth into this life and immediately we see him standing in Spirit on the other side. God, he is magnificent! He is a statue come to life. However, he is probably bringing in more stubbornness than I have ever seen in one human. And strength? How much strength can one person bring in? Being single minded is his best weapon. He put on blinders to the world in order to focus on its people and the ways of the world’s treatment of them. Not only did he speak for fairer treatment, he spoke for the power of the individual. He spoke of rising to one’s own individual power. He attempted to give his voice to many, showing others their own power by standing and speaking. He spoke of the God he knew, spoke of the God whom he thought empowered all. He used the pulpit in order to reach the masses, and boy did his voice boom across the nation and into the world. There would be no walls high enough or thick enough to contain the power of his voice.
At his birth we see how well his mother receives him. She is a strong woman herself, who from the looks of it put up with no nonsense from her children, but disciplined with lots of love. MLK definitely respected both of his parents. They provided a safe environment for him to grow up, one that did not confuse or threaten him.
The few years leading up to his death, we see how driven MLK was. He had a sense that he needed to accomplish as much as possible in the present moment. His voice drove him without hesitation. He hurt for his people, for all those who the world said were not good enough. The one thing that he desired more than anything was give people their voice. If he could have gone around and given a piece of his power to individuals, he would have done so each and every day of his life. He wanted to empower others. He tried to inspire each and every person to stand up and use their own voice. He wanted them to know that God granted to each their own voice and their own power to say yes or no.
“Why did we sit as a mass for so long, when we could have stood so many years before,” he asks?
I answer, “Because there was not the leader to gather everyone together and inform them of their rights? And because there were no rights previous to your time? At least, not many.”
His eyes are sad as they reflect the life he was living close to his death. He had started running out of steam, just a little, because he felt the world tolerated him, while digging in its heels against. He had found way too many who nodded and agreed, while also refusing to give. Too often he wondered where God was, he tells me.
I say to him, “We never come to Earth for easy lives, do we? I always say it’s a tough gig down here.”
His voice is heavy with weariness as he replies, “I knew as a boy that I could never be a man in the eyes of the white man.”
When he says that I wonder if that is what powered his love of women. With them he could be a man. With them he found comfort. So, two reasons really…comfort and sex, the sex providing the release of the true man.
I ask him if he ever felt that he accomplished proving himself a man in the eyes of the whites.
He says, “No, but I brought the power to them and made them cringe before it. I put it in their face and did not back down. I slayed the dragon with the power of my voice and the conviction of my words. I believed. And that is all anyone needs for any venture. Belief. Without it I could never have led. Without it I would have been another frustrated and angry man who did not fit in with the conventional white.”
I ask him what he would say to people today. His eyes change out of the man he was in the past and into the present Spirit that he is. They have a dreamy look about them as he thinks of what he would say.
“Never give up,” he says. “No matter how difficult it is to place one foot in front of the other, find the strength to do it. No matter how long it takes to place one foot in front of the other, find the patience to wait for that next step. Speak for yourself!”
He almost bellows the word “speak” with great authority. No wonder he got people to follow him. His command was brilliant.
“Do not wait for others to find your voice for you because they won’t. Most are too busy and caught up in their own lives to take notice of others. Find your own power to stand and speak. Laziness and ignorance will always be two of the devil’s greatest preachers. You will fall for one or both, or you will stand for yourself. Which will you choose?”
I ask to see his crossover after death and it is immediately projected for us to see. He was welcomed by an older woman who very lovingly greets him. What a marvelously relaxed, loving reunion they have. MLK is relieved by death instantly because the voice he brought in is no longer pushing him, no longer aggravating him into passion and aggression. He can now breathe easily without fear of retribution, and without fear of letting others down. In death, we realize how tightly strung he was in order to accomplish what he needed to in such a short period of time. Like a windup toy that is wound to breaking point, he needed release. On earth he found it in women and speech, in death it was granted permanently. All I can say is that he was a magnificent warrior on Earth whose words will live on for as long as there is life. His passion ignited the same in others, sparking them to their own greatness, no matter how large or small.
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