Moriah’s was sitting high in her trap pulled by her donkey. She loved to hear the iron wheels on the stones in the road, giving her a sense of getting away from her cottage. She sat on the cushioned side seat, holding the reins lightly. She stopped her cart in Laragh and picked up her friend Rishin.

As they travelled they talked of old and new religions.”Mixing two religions was like joining a potato and an onion seed and what would you get?” said her friend. Moriah said that you would get another vegetable all together, if you were successful, but you would still have a vegetable, just the same as the old and the new religions are still religions. “The sap runs through the vegetable and the sap runs through the religions.” said Moriah. Rishin mused about that underground something that pervades all religions and that underground something that provides all vegetables. 

The underground something in meditation came up and Rishin said she never knew when something would wake her up, with her eyes feeling like they were propped open with matchsticks. Then she would give in to doing a meditation and her whole being would relax. At such times she felt part of the plan of God and felt rich and safe with that underground something holding her in its embrace. 

Moriah said she was always glad when she made that separation into her own space, separate from Gerodi, in the middle of the night. She could in safety open herself to the everlasting doors and await the Presence.

Moriah told Rishin that last night she dreamed that she found herself on a hill, which reminded her of the Hill of Howth, near Dublin. She lived there on that promontory surrounded by the Irish Sea, when she was younger. The view of Dublin Bay is great, and the pathways many, through the heather and the blackberry and yellow furze bushes.

In her dream, she was lost, and was in a cul-de-sac. There were stone walls surrounding her with an iron bar on top. A man, with very long legs came to the rescue. She only saw his long legs.

Then Moriah was with another man, someone she fancied in her thirties. He was emotional about the fact that he found her, and was all choked up about discovering her. She did not reciprocate this love but was very pleased to be so loved, so cared for. She was pleased to have his emotions securely around her. Moriah was in love with the power that this beloved would give her.

Rishin said that it looks like the tall legged helper of the first dream morphs into the lover later. Moriah is stuck in her perception of how to reach toward God on the Mountain High and so finds herself in a cul-de-sac. The second dream is telling her of an attitude that does not help her get closer to the beloved.

The men figures are Moriah’s go between her and God, she will have to figure out how to bridge that gap between the lover’s great feeling for her and her lack of feelings for the lover, standing in for God.

Moriah wondered how she would get compassion into her bowels for others, or how would she get it in there for God.  She would have to think how she would do that now, to do something, anything, to not be lost in that beautiful Hill of Howth. She could practice on her husband, Garodidi. Putting love into the food, into the garden, into caring for herself and others were some of the many paths she would consider.

Moriah tipped her donkey with her rod and the little animal broke into a fast trot, as the rain began to fall. They were near where Druid Bernie would be found. He might help them with the dream, as well as giving them a hot cup of tea. 

The donkey knew the way and felt anxious to have a bite of hay and some well water laid out for her. She was going so fast she had to skid to a halt at the door.

Druid Bernie, on hearing the comotion, greeted them with a hearty shout of acclimation inviting them in for hot tea and some brown bread that he would soon lift out of the coals, with a crust that held in a delicious interior, telling tales of perfect creamy sour milk and newly ground flour, all light as a feather.

The little donkey finished up her fodder and she looked in over the green half door at the three sitting around the turf fire, burning yellow. She could see the remains of the bread crust and some creamy butter melting in the white butter dish. The empty cups were abandoned around the marble table top. The faces were red from the fire, the talk, and from the hot tea.

The donkey’s head rested on the half door, and she was enjoying the warm turf and bread smoked air coming out over the door. She nodded off and had a dream that she was busy holding back a blue and white angel, who wanted to behead Moriah for her attitude to God. The poor donkey was trying her best, making great heart pounding efforts to save Moriah from the mad angel. All this struggle caused her to bellow in her sleep and when she woke up Moriah and Father Bernie were petting her head. The donkey felt loved and safe then and was glad she got out of that nightmare.

Love from Rose Marie.

PS

I am moving the blogs about Moriah to earlier in the nineteenth century instead of the far distant past. Druid Bernie survives.

I had three threatening events in the past week or so. The first was lightening that struck something near me and I felt a surge come up through me and out may left hand. I screamed and staggered indoors.

The second was an old truck that was on the wrong side of the road near North River gorge. Gerry was driving and slammed to a stop. I closed my eyes and the truck got on the other side of the road.

The third thing that happened, was a rotten tree in the Arboretum, decided to fall as we went past. I ducked and screamed. It fell in an instant.

Only after finishing my blog the way I did, did I realize that I had a few near misses lately.