The Responsibility of Being Conscious
This post continues the Egypt Codes — reflections and transmissions from a pilgrimage that profoundly shifted my understanding of consciousness, history, and my own soul. If you’re new here, start with Part One.
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Egypt Codes: Part Four
Wow. So grateful we get to meet here together while so much is unfolding in our precious world right now. Remember, the more you can lean into understanding life through the eyes of Source (Spirit, Universe, God - whatever that word is for you), the better off we all will be. May this story help you see a little differently as we continue to move through the most evolutionary period of our lives.
In my last post, I shared what it felt like to stand before the pyramids for the first time. How awe brought me to my knees and how my body instinctively responded before thoughts could dictate my actions.
What an incredible experience that was.
As we moved through the grounds around the pyramids, I started noticing something incredibly hard to look at.
Trash.
Everywhere.
At the base of the pyramids. Along the walkways. Threaded through a place that, to me, commanded humility…a place where my body instinctively bowed out of respect.
HOW?!
Grief hit me first. Then frustration. Then that familiar pull toward judgment. HOW could people be so disrespectful and careless?! And I wasn’t alone in it.
I noticed another woman nearby, visibly overwhelmed, crying, shaking, and devastated by what she was seeing. Her body was carrying the same heartbreak mine was. There was no conversation at first, just the knowing of shared grief through tear-pooled eyes.
In that moment, an overwhelming urge to pick up the trash rose from deep within my bones, but I didn’t have anything to put it in. So I prayed for a bag. It was a quiet, internal asking paired with utter determination to clean this sacred place up.
Almost immediately, a bag blew across the stones and landed right at my feet. It was really incredible how quickly thoughts became things in that magical land.
I picked it up and started gathering trash. I became almost rabid in my pursuit of it. When the woman saw me, she joined in. We moved together, picking things up, letting our bodies respond to what our hearts were feeling.
At one point, she stopped, looked me directly in the eyes, and pressed a small piece of smooth, clear glass into my hand as a gift. She said, “This is for having such a pure heart,” her lower lip quivering through her tears.
I felt so much gratitude for that beautiful gesture.
And then she said something else… something heavy with judgment about the people who were doing this, about how wrong it was, about how they “should know better.” At that moment, I heard a message from within, loud and clear.
“They don’t know.”
I paused as I heard it. I contemplated it. It didn’t come as an excuse for behavior or as a way to bypass. It came to me in the same tone as the ancient teaching: “Forgive them, they know not what they do.”
I understood the message and shared it with her.
“They don’t know”, I said with a wide-open, compassionate heart. “But they do,” she pushed back. “They know better.”
And what came through me in that moment was deeper than argument. It was genuine acceptance. They actually don’t know. And who am I to believe that the way I exist or behave or think is the “right” way?
Consciousness doesn’t make us better than anyone else.
It doesn’t make us “right.” And it certainly doesn’t give us permission to stand above the world and judge it. It gives us responsibility.
Not the responsibility to correct reality, but the responsibility to perceive it clearly. To see that even unconsciousness serves a purpose. To understand that even ignorance is a part of evolution.
Contrast teaches us what is possible, not through condemnation, but through example.
Those of us who have been blessed with the time, the pain, the devotion, and the courage it takes to build a conscious relationship with ourselves are not here to manage the world and tell everyone what they “should” or “shouldn’t” be doing.
Our responsibility is to see our world, and everyone in it, as whole.
We are here to recognize that there is a different way, then hold the vision for and take action aligned with that way, while holding compassion for those who haven’t arrived there yet, knowing they are still part of the unfolding for the greater good, exactly as they are….simultaneously.
This is an advanced teaching.
Not because it is complex necessarily, but because it dismantles the very part of us that survives on feeling separate, superior, or right. The part that many of us are extremely attached to.
What mattered most in that moment wasn’t what happened. It was what didn’t happen.
Judgment didn’t take the wheel. Superiority didn’t sneak in. My heart didn’t close. I allowed the grief of seeing trash spewed about without turning it into self-righteousness. I felt responsibility without turning it into hierarchy. I acted from love without needing to be morally elevated.
This, my friends, is where humility lives.
Not in being right, but in being willing to see the whole. We need contrast. We need polarity. We need both right and wrong, dark and light, because it is withinthat contrast that neutrality exists.
Source itself is inherently neutral. Source does not favor good over bad. Source does not favor right over wrong.
Source understands that all pieces, all parts, and all sides create the whole.
When we find that neutrality within ourselves, that willingness to see, include, and accept the full spectrum, we come back into alignment with Source. And in that alignment, we remember something essential…
There is no separation.
Not between us and the earth. Not between us and each other. Not between us and Source.
And I don’t mean that as some amorphous, impractical spiritual jargon, but as deeply felt truth and knowing. And THAT is where true freedom lives.
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Next time, I’ll share the moment Egypt showed me a version of the masculine I had never experienced before and why it changed everything for me. See you there!
