“The answer came in a female voice.”

One day, a New Age friend gave me a mantra that was supposed to “center” one’s self.  I thought I would give it a try.  I don’t remember the mantra now, but it was addressed to the “Lord.”  I asked, “Is the Lord in the mantra You?”

There is only one God but many “lords,” many spiritual beings for whom that is not an inappropriate title.  Your early prayers—which were addressed to “Lord” and you thought perhaps Lord Krishna or Who-knows-who—were about right.  When you address “the Lord,” you do not have to specify or have in mind a particular spiritual entity.  The Lord who is right for you at that time will respond.  The Lord that was right for your early prayers was Me, and so I answered.

I had a very basic question.  The God who speaks to me is personal and, in human experience, persons are either male or female.  The voice I heard was definitely a masculine voice but sometimes, in some indefinable way, I felt there was a feminine side to God.  To my surprise, the answer came in a female voice.

No, not exactly.  There are many sides to God, some of which you might call feminine.

Many sides?  Some masculine, some feminine, some something else?  The sound you hear is categories shattering.

2 thoughts on ““The answer came in a female voice.”

  1. Henry Michell Reply

    “There was the boy and there was the road, trailing through vast heaving silences that filled the whole world.
    The longer the boy walked, the more full those silences became. His habitual loneliness began to fade. The river sang, the wind whispered, squirrels chattered, birds called and cried and piped and shrieked in whatever manner they were disposed to do. Within him sprang a sense of all these voices speaking together the earth’s own language, the One Tongue. Eventually, he might begin to learn that language, but for now his part in the conversation was simply to listen. It would be a long time before his brain could attempt to formulate these realities that were being imprinted on his psyche. Even had he conscious understanding of them presently, he could not have framed words to express the truths he was receiving, but he was beginning to feel them in his bones, in his tired muscles and sunburned arms and aching feet. The germ of a belief began to take hold in him, that all of these small lives, his own among them, were each and all merely steps and measures in the Great Dance. The One Mother breathed in them all, and they were all Her.” -from “The Summer Boy (c)2012 Henry Mitchell

    1. Jerry L Martin Reply

      Henry, that is a wonderfully evocative portrayal of illumination in one of its many forms. Thanks for sharing it with us.

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