States, Sovereignty, and the Mermaid’s Looking-Glass; Why Hatred Outside Is Always a Call Within

Dearest mermaid darlings,

I have lately been at my little labours upon several pursuits pertaining to Scarlette Rose Cottage, a place most dear to my heart. Perhaps you have already been following along upon Instagram, where I scatter crumbs of my days in the form of stories and reels, sharing my small doings and whimsical undertakings. There shall be more news of these cottagey adventures in my following epistle, but for now, with a steaming cup of tea beside me, I felt compelled to pen a few musings concerning the curious climate of our present world.

Oft do I find myself delighting in the company of ye olde YouTube, where many a kindred spirit gathers; such lovely souls who leave the most heart-warming remarks. There is always some little treasure to be found there, whether one seeks merriment, musings, or quiet inspiration.

And yet, amidst the beauty and gaiety, my thoughts wander to the heavier notes of the age we live in. Thus, I write today in hope of shining a lantern of joy, compassion, and remembrance upon the path.

When Hatred Appears in the Looking-Glass

When we cast our gaze outward and behold quarrels, politics, and leaders who rouse great ire; when neighbours seem misguided and family trod paths most strange; it is all too easy to imagine that they are the blight upon our peace. We suppose that if only we could silence or sweep them away, the world would at last be sweet and still.

Yet, as Neville Goddard so sagely reminds us, the world is but ourselves pushed out. Each frown we spy, each quarrel we decry, is but our own reflection peering back at us through the glass. Every hatred is a signal; every judgment, a whisper, reminding us of the forgotten places within where love has not yet lit her lamp.

Religion, Control, and the Masks We Wear

In times past, I raised my children beneath the banners of religion—Mormon in one season, Pentecostal in another—and from such strictures I gathered this truth; it is not the faith itself we must scold, but the habit of control dressed in holy garments.

Parents, eager to preserve appearances, may withhold love if a child does not fit the mould; and thus the child learns a sorrowful lesson: “I shall play the part they demand until no one is watching; then only will I be free.” This is how hypocrisy is born.

No soul was meant to live in a box. We are not broken beings who must strive endlessly for perfection; we are already perfect—sovereign, radiant, whole.

The God Within

The world proclaims that we have fallen; yet it is a fib most dreadful. We are gods and goddesses in disguise, each bearing the luminous spark of “I AM.” The Great Creator is not one solitary monarch on a throne of clouds; it is the chorus of all souls together, each a perspective of the Divine.

When I speak and am not heard, it is not for want of truth; it is simply that the frequency of love rings high, and only those attuned to its key may hear the melody. I must not lower my vibration for comfort’s sake; rather, I must continue in communion with my Mermaid Inner Being, who abides always in joy and splendour.

States of Consciousness: The Mermaid’s Tale

Neville taught that all is but a state of consciousness. Joy is a state; sorrow is a state; gossip, hatred, compassion—all are but costumes we may wear.

Once upon a time, I was a mermaid of Weeki Wachee Springs, wearing my glittering tail, swishing through sapphire waters, smiling at wide-eyed children. That was a state. When I climbed from the spring, laid aside my fins, and merrily introduced roller-skating birds to the crowds, that was another state. Neither was truly me; both were roles, masks, garments of the moment.

And so it is in life. When we dwell in hatred, it is but a state. When we rise into love, it too is a state. The “devil” itself is nought but the state of disowning our own divinity.

The Choice Before Us

To awaken is to remember that we are the playwright, the actress, and the entire stage. We may choose to dwell in bitterness or bask in joy; to clothe ourselves in gossip or in kindness. The looking-glass of the world will always reflect the garment we wear.

So, the next time you feel inclined to despise another for their politics, their faith, or their folly, pause, dear heart. Gaze gently into your own Mermaid’s Looking-Glass and whisper, “What state am I in? What part of my own divinity have I forgotten?”

And then—choose again.

For the sweetest truth of all is this: we are the gods of our reality, mighty and beautiful, capable of weaving enchantment with every thought and every breath.

 

A Cottage Mermaid’s Benediction

May your heart be as a lantern, ever glowing with kindness;

May your words be soft as sea-foam, bearing truth without harm;

May your steps be guided by the quiet knowing that you are sovereign, whole, and radiant;

And may you always remember, dearest soul, that you are the very spark of the Divine,

capable of weaving beauty wherever you go.

Swim gently through this life, for you are loved beyond measure.

Most affably yours til my next swim, Lady R