Holy Communion, the Host, is part of the ritual of Rose’s mother religion. She partook of this communion from the age of six, when she received her First Holy Communion, in a white dress and veil and white handbag. She had the little prayer book and white rosary beads and a shilling, given to her by her father. He was wearing a blue cardigan, some squared on it and he was tall to her height and he put the shilling on the end of his outreached fingers and smiled at her as she reached for this unknown lucre, knowing it meant love to her rather than the coin of the realm.
Her First Communion was preceded by her first confession, held in the church, in the confessional box, on a school day, awaited with great anticipation by a nervous school teacher. The priest came when he pleased and Rose and her class mates were ready. They had to come up with their own sins. Her teacher did a run through with her little charges, so there would be no hitch with the priest. Rose’s first little sins were hunted down and were made ready to be furled at the priest.
She said “Bless me Father for I have sinned.” The priest, on the other side of the small screen, received her whispered words. She was standing up on her tippy toes in order to see and hear him, the outline of his lips and nose just visible, in the almost dark confessional box. Her penance was to say three Hail Maries which was almost impossible to do, paying attention to counting and saying Hail Maries at the same time. It took a while to be sure it was all done. Walking up to receive her first communion in front of a full church was daunting but she was in the first row, pure white inside and out, with her teacher at hand and strict instruction to swallow the communion and not chew it.
With the dream of stepping into the host, the host symbology, has brought Rose to a different energetic awareness. Her understanding is a reference to that light of the heart area, big and round, when filled up by God in Meditation. If she evokes this holy communion of Christ, Jesus, then she had something to give within the babble, bubble of her life. It is the “Our Father’s” will to give us this pouring down into the Heart Area. We have to receive the light, with the emphasis on the “receive.” Slow down and be still. A falling down feeling into love.
Now she sees it more clearly, as the white energy in her, connecting her to the heavens and to the earth. The words from the “Our Father” are; “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” in the higher chakras as in the lower chakras and scattered all through the body, like stars furled all through the firmament, an image/feeling that came to her in a recent meditation.
Dayton Lake is becoming her own local holy place. When she went out there recently on a fine Sunday she had the idea of get into that water of course. It was a cooler day, some wind. She parked her car and saw a couple watching the lake with their binocular, as there was a host of ducks not usually on the lake, to be seen. Rose asked if she could have a look through the binoculars. The canvas back ducks were especially lovely, white mostly and red brick colored heads. There were a few redheads as well and a flock of golden eye ducks on the other side of the lake. She looked them up in her National Audubon Society book about birds and it was amazing to read the little details about them. They are such a treasure and while getting scarser due to the removal of their marshes that they need to breed, they can be seen still by Rose on the little local Silver Lake.
Rose found out the ducks were feeding near where the lake spring comes up and that it is twenty feet deep there. It is close to the foot of Mole hill and Rose could not help but wonder if this water had been filtered through the volcanic hill of black basaltic rock, making it more special for dipping into. The lake may look shallow but it has its wonderful own third eye, pouring forth clean water. Most of the green algae like strings have left the lake now and it seams cleaner in the coolness of the winter weather. When Rose was in a meditative mood one night she was drawn into this spring of holy water being given up from the depth of Silver Lake.
I had a dream of coming to the edge of a cliff and I am carrying three bags. I propose to climb down, but am facing the wrong way. There are iron foot holds. After this dream I was waiting for something to happen and it did . I slipped enough to hurt my left knee, which swelled and rendered my prone for most of the weekend. I can see that I am facing “the wrong way” and carrying too much from this dream.
I read a few random passages from the Bible and I got the impression from all of this that God had little patience with doing things without the fast and well-held hand of God in it. I will slow down enough to read the Holy Book of my Christian religion and see if I can turn around. It involves slowing down enough to be still, to paint and to rest and to be in the right bag of attitude. The burden to these bags are so light and easy then.
And if you want to work on your own bags of stuff, be sure to ask me for one of my books of Dream Leaflets, where there is a chance to write and to draw your dreams. I look forward to hearing from you.
If you like the above please click the like buttons and I always love your comments. I am a licensed professional counselor in Virginia and can be found on Psychology Today where you can read all about my qualifications. Love from Rose.