Music is the Food of Love

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Playing music by the Wayne River

Music heals the wounds of love, the deep emotional ones. Music can jump start our days. The Blue Danube can be used for healing depression. Annie De Franko can get a Gen E-xer in touch with her wild coming out energy and reintegrate herself with her inner beloved. Music has a way of soaring us up into enchantment and into a knowing how to serve.

 

Churches use it to attune to the Divine. Watch for when the Master comes in, lounging in a blue and white robe nearby saying “If you sing I will play.” He was said to have played the harp beautifully when on this earth. Of course the birds sing all the time.

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As the soul sores into the human body for the next incarnation of self they come through the music of the spheres, the heavenly host music, and so music is in everyone’s soul. Some may close their ears on the way through or some may be geniuses with music. When I hear music I love I let it fill me as I imagine it.

Music has always been associated with prayer. People insist on having their music played during surgery to ensure safety and healing in the process. I had my husband play the tin whistle as my son was being born. The tune and the words spoke of how the music comes down through the ages and is carried on in new forms.

Eastern Blue birds on this earth are one of my favorite birds to see. I saw a flock foraging in a tree in Hill N Dale Park. They are beautiful to watch as they make their quiet and melodious sounds. I had someone tell me they wanted to come back as a blue bird if there is reincarnation.

She is a blue bird already with blue angel wings. She is someone who played the piano/organ music all her life. She is enchanting to be around. She can play complex pieces with very little effort. She has spent a good part of her life learning, practicing and giving music to her part of the world, usually with many others present to hear her efforts. The world needs music as the world needs love.

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My mother always kept her key board nearby. Photo from 90’s

My mother always played the piano and we her daughters were always gathered around her to put our timid voices into the vast church. My mother attended a center in Mullingar in her later years where she met and fell in love with someone her senior who was a great piano player. He would get her to sit beside him and they often played together. She continued to love his presence and went to see him when he was dying, singing to him and praying at his bedside. She was called upon to play the piano when catholic mass was held at the Mullingar Center. She led them all in song with the help of a retired priest.

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My mother, at Melanie Lennon’s wedding with me,  confessed to loving the Piano Player. She was in her eighties by then.

I can hear her now as she bent over the keyboard, sitting at the side of her bed,  sending out great wafts of sound and singing along. In her nineties, we went up the avenue to walk and I brought her little hymnal with me and she knew all the hymns by heart, even in the Latin language, as that had been the language of the church in her youth. Her sweet and detailed notes are in the avenue banks still and hang over it in the branches and in the great wheels of primroses that bloom in the spring.

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Mother on the avenue with her favorite cat, where she often sang and always said rosaries.

I found myself taking up the melodica when I got pregnant with my children. I would tackle my little practice book and play a few tunes, mostly imperfectly, during the whole pregnancy. As soon as the babies were born I would drop it again.

All of my three children are profoundly musical and spent their childhood learning and practicing music. Annabeth has declared it her life work, teaching, playing for others and generally being involved with all kinds of notes. Once she had occasion to view her vocal cords and she was astounded at their delicacy, their light pinkness and their movement in song. I noticed she called her band mates “The Larks” recently. It triggers in me the memory of the Irish song about the lark singing in the clear air of the day.

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Annabeth has been making music since she was in high school

I love to soar into some church songs. I sing and chant on a daily basis as a way of changing my vibrations, attitude and occupation. Sometimes I sing along with others but find the most benefit from making my own notes in meditation practice where I look for the secret places of the Most High.

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Chanting on Kundalini Yoga retreat n late August in the early hours.

One morning early, as I was in my house with the windows open, a Hispanic man, working on the house across the road broke out in a loud clear tuneful voice in the Spanish language. It was a delight to hear and I stopped everything to hear his free concert. It was like watching a rose bloom, hearing the ocean waves and Chopin, Franz Liszt and Beethoven all rolled into one.

And if you want to develop your own blue angel wings and become more involved with music, especially the sounds that stream through your own vocal cords, be sure to join other music makers, and or sing to yourself in the middle of the night.

It has a way of dispelling fears, lightening the mood, bringing attunement to your neck of the woods and bringing pleasure to your self.

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In the neck of the woods.

I continue to work with my own dreams when I am not sweeping them into hidden corners and creating drama with myself and others. They are always bringing those, who pay attention to the unconscious toward wholeness, something I clearly need.

You can contact me via this site or go to Psychology Today where I have been approved and my credentials have been checked. Psychology Today have a way to contact me by phone should you call me through their contact numbers. I love my chosen work of counseling and look forward to hearing from you whether you are a serious music maker or not, and whether you have dreams stashed in the corners or not. Love Rose.

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Mariah and the Thorny Dreams

Mariah was rushing around. Her cactus plant had fallen over a few times due to being top heavy and was waiting to be repotted if only she could find a bigger pot for it. In her haste she ran her left index finger into it. With the help of the sunlight she found the thorn and pulled it out. However some of it or another remained in there in her skin, mostly under the top of her nail to remind her of something thorny that she was not getting. She did not feel it unless she put pressure on the exact spot where it had gone in. She thought of chucking her cactus out by its thorns but the complete ring of flowers in the early summer, with their other worldly pink, prevented her from being hasty.

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She liked the way the cactus took on the morning glories, which raced around its circumference three times. When the cactus spines bit into the leaves encircling it they left little tan holes and the vine let go and loosened out from it, falling down around the pot in dejected circles. Morning glories seemed to have the ability to push out two feet of vines daily with flowers coming and going daily. The life that ran through them brought Mariah delight as she looked into their magnificent purple faces. She has some good memories of this duel between her plants.

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Mariah went back to an earlier dream a few times wondering how to get a handle on what was being said. In the dream she knew the place she was headed but could not speak the language and could not get good directions from the men, who were there.

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She decided to sit with the intense feeling of being stuck. She noticed it a time or two during the day and at night she applied her imagination to it coming back to it more that once before sleeping. She slept until one-ish and did her usual rituals of meditating but nothing came back on her not knowing how to find the place she was going.

However in the morning first thing, she got the image of her mother sitting at a table with two others. Her mother’s face was in shadow and she had a hat on.

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The ancestors scratching their heads about where they came from.

Some of the words from her mother came to her as she went about with her mystery dream. Her mother said there is only one language and it is of love.

There may be four directions but do not forget to consider the one above and below also.

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Trees are above and below at the same time.

Mariah though about her mother, her grandmother and her great-grandmother, as there were three people together in that final image that came to her as a result of her quest for more information about the dream. She painted her picture of them all.

They were all religious women, consulting with druids when needed, bringing healing to animals and children especially their own and generally living the good life. But were they certain where they came from and where they were going? The end.

Rose has a few ideas of how to bring her dream work to more people. She will lead a work shop in Morocco in September, when she is going with Seri Amrita Kaur for a Kundalini Yoga Tour in the mystical city of Marrakesh with the emphasis on getting in touch with bliss. She is looking forward to that.

Pictures above are from the tour with Seri Amrita Kaur in Guetamala. Rose had a very fine time then and left there in a blissful state. The group were healing the wounds of love on that tour.

She had a new dream about not being able to find her place again. She would have to put this dream in her pipe today and smoke it, figuratively of course. She was glad there is this follow up dream with the theme of not being able to find where she is going again. There is consistency here.

She is looking forward to working more intimately  with placing this dream in her body, her soma, so she can see how the psyche is intruding into her physical body because she is not paying attention to something from the psyche. It is like a dimensional layer that comes in to the physical because not all is well in the next layer of herself. Too much emphasis on her animus/male input and too much ignoring of the Goddess energy.

For breath work this morning she did some massage on her offending hip and as she breathed down into the red center of the earth on the ex-hale and up into the blue center of the solar system with the in-hale and put hands on her spine to center the energy there, she noticed she came out in a sweat and relaxed a lot connecting it to the fire of life, releasing herself from some tightness. She was ready to get her tea now.

And if you do feel like singing a song, do sing a dream song. The notes will be most unusual and the melody will suit you immediately. I am working with dreams in my little conservatory here all the time, looking for the notes that crash around in the shadows, wrestling them to the ground and having a good look in their faces. I know that if our paths are meant to cross in due course and the fullness of time, they will, otherwise you would not be reading this. I look forward to hearing from you on the contact page. Love from Rose.

 

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Leprechauns have dream groups you know.

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Mariah walking home.

As Mariah walked home from dream group she thought she had created her own stiffness and there was not much she could do about it as it had been going on for a long time, bit by bit, piece by piece. When she got home, she hugged a tree seeing its roots running our on every side of her to many distances of feet, under the grass. She could feel the sap in there. She had sap in her too, running though the trunk of herself. How were they the same and how were they different she wondered. The tree never ceases to love, cleaning our air, gracing us with shapes and beauty and colors, shade and whispering sounds or windy roars. We might have more in common she thought. She hated when she heard them being sawed down and she knew she was a tree hugger at heart.

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Beautiful Bonsai

How could she get into her own spine and reeducate it into being suppler, wavier in the sending up of energies, to be just like the tree. Could she send down roots out of her own heels, supportive, connecting deep into the stable ground beneath her heels, with her own energetic roots.

She often sat outside breathing deeply, imagining reaching down into the earth, yet connected on five strings on her body and going deeper and deeper, creating space for healing inside. As she went deeper and deeper, into the warm dark of the earth, her bones become harder until some of those bones would become like diamonds and shiny, loosing the hold of her demons, she hoped.

As she lay under the tree, she decided to root herself by using breathing. This produced heat in the area of the sacred place of the sacrum. Lying on the grass she made more contact with the earth when we breathed out. She was letting go of her willpower and giving herself over to the will of the great mother coming into her on her breath. Her spine went more into its natural position, fully supported by the ground, and the earth and the great mother in turn.

It is in this position too that she felt the move back into her mother’s womb when she was held there supported by the great mother of all. There she did womb breathing where her body breaths in and out, breathing without air, slow rhythmic, for a number of breaths. She could see the placenta caring for her in totality as she had developed in the womb. Here she tapped into the great mother energy that brings the grass up all the time, all around her and wanted it to come roaring up her back wanting above anything else to increase her energy, her life force and her healing, and in turn bring her into her inheritanc of being connected to others in her heart, delighted and in love with it all.

Concentrating in these ways got her into the creative center of herself. The feeling of expansiveness, included the whole body and beyond, while she constantly maintained a position of utter stillness, lying on the grass.

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The expansiveness in the tops of trees

She thought about the dream group and of the dream she heard about the small flies in the cilantro. She likes the cilantro but hated the flies which were coming into the dream because they needed attention. Flies are in and of themselves very instinctual. While those flies come up in an instinctual and crude way they bring the good news that the instincts are getting activated for the dreamer. The dreamer considered how she was getting in touch with her instincts, walking by herself, using mantra to counter negative thinking, working with her dreams and being kind to others.

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Dream with cilantro and flies

She thought of other dreams she heard that evening especially about the one of the dreamer who dreamed of being late. The dreamer is empty nesting fast, from a family that no longer needs her worry or input in the same way. Her fruits have grown up. How can she be sure they will not fall far from the tree of herself? Worrying from afar is frustrating for her. She is getting late for her own life. How can she have a fulfilling life, reorient herself to her own goals, now that they have flowered and flown the nest? She is feeling rootless, stuck, lost and her instincts are only oriented outwards, none focused on herself. “I am never late” she noted.

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I am late I am late for a very important date, no time to say hello goodbye, I am late I am late I am late

Then she heard of the dreaded dream of failing exams. Mariah suggested there is something he is not getting. Does he need to be learning more about mood and attitude, and to be prepared in his life for something he is refusing to consider. He is a conscientious man in many ways, and would never dream of coming unprepared for an exam. May be he is neglecting that one thing that is his to do, to take on. Is he hiding behind something Mariah wondered? An inner women may be involved, mother stuff, she volunteered. This is “exactly why I dislikes dreams” he said. Sometimes she wished she did not bait people into confiding dreams to her. She always feels the need to interest them in taking them seriously. She had learned a lot from some old grandmothers in the past and she had always felt a connection to such learning.

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Sometimes Mariah has the dream of failing out exams but she does not like to admit this to anyone.

She thought about Uisneach’s dream briefly, where a woman showed up and was doing something she would not normally do. Mariah thought he should look at that which he would not do, because his inner woman would not let him do it, even thought it would be such a good idea to break through and do it anyway. He was not receptive to Mariah’s gully of words about his dream or her inference that joining a breathing group for men would be a good idea.

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Plenty of men around.

She fell asleep out there under the great tree. She could see stars twinkling far away, when she woke up. She felt a bit chilled and was happy to get up and go inside to drink some tea with Uishneach and to get him to heat up her frozen feet again, when they went to bed together and held hands. The end.

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Cold feet

Rose got up in the night to do some reading and breathing and meditating. She was using that time to catch up on what she wanted to do including stretching out her knees on a heating pad over a pillow, doing some of the physical therapy exercises she had acquired recently.

She got into to a few different breathing exercises she was doing and felt a great expansiveness. She said her prayers. After three hours she had to concentrate on her lungs, as she breathed her way back into sleep. She had gone to a Kundalini class and a dream group the evening before, ate a lot of chocolate, and was surprised to be getting as much sleep as she did.

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The wash loads are awaiting her and the almost dead flowers. She will sit to write here there and yonder to have a few piles of words made up at the end of the day, even as she dismantles other piles of things that are awaiting her.

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The flowers a few weeks earlier

And if you wish to talk with the lord of the flies, who is sending you a swarm, your very own flies, and if your sister comes to your basement door and you bang the door in her face, now you might want to reconsider that some part of you is bringing your instincts forth for you to consider and you can gain life from this paying attention to your own gifts of the unconscious, your unopened letters to you self.

Love from Rose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Leprechaun and game of Bones

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Tea cosy by Molly at the market

There was a party and Mariah and Uishneach went and sat at the table with the Bones games. This kind of activity brought them together. People, who were very nice and proper, had a chance to be pushy and competitive. The Barn keeper suggested she was glad there were not any battle implements under the table, as someone might take them out and use them. Two of the men broke briefly into song and into the same words together, about going to the hills. There was lots of laughter. The game was set on bones on which there were dots that had to be lined up. They were the elder crew and they left early as it was their bedtime and it was a cold night for traveling.

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Sun and moon are eyes of heaven she thought and even though the sun was gone down in a blaze of glory earlier, she looked up and thought of God in the sky. She was struggling to find God in herself and thought that there might be a sky within her cavities, the head cavity, the chest cavity and the pelvic cavity. The blueness within brought brightness to her walk with Uishneach.

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The tealeaves telling their own tale.

She noticed a wave that went across her chest in her prayers and wondered if it was a wave coming out from the heart, the one that travels along her arms and out into her fingertips. The wave up and down the spine also came to mind.

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A wave over the heart area

Then she notices how she skips past the sky in pelvis cavity. Her mother came to pray with her and Rosin Dubh when they had started to grow out of absolute childhood. She stood over them and said “cross your arms over your chest.” They did not know what she meant so she showed them how to do this, with the arms crossed over the heart chakra and the hands on opposite shoulders. And keep them that way when going to sleep she offered as she started her rote prayers and knelt down. Her mother left, her dark brown wavy hair down on one side of her face, half covering her contentment. So now when Mariah feels the energies rising through her pelvic region she skips that area and sees it only in her head. She knows she has to get busy  getting out demons and trying to get some diamond stars for that sky.

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Mariah is trying not to shrink with the passing of time, to refuse the pull of gravity, to pull out the plastic tightness that would shrink her some more, to absorb more water and keep her youth and beauty. Sometimes she thought her rigidity was what kept her together as she frantically went about exercising some more.

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After all this thinking she was home and she was hoping the walk had warmed Uishneach so that he could help thaw out her feet which were blocks of ice again.

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The teapot Rose got from Sally

And Rose the next morning gets ready for the day while mulling over a dream about getting on a bus in Katmandu. In the bus it was so hard to give voice to where she wanted to go. Her male bus drivers spoke a different language. They gave her a device to search. They knew now much she disliked such devices, such searches.

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Dream of Katmandu

Maybe she would go up high to the place of the temple, where she had a good view of the Himalayas, where the beautiful Buddha were enclosed in alcoves with locks on them. Up high there is no travel to be done, just sitting in the meditation posture until she brought together the opposites.

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The men in the dream are part of her and not helpful. These men like to drive the bus and not be concerned with where her feminine wants to take her. They like to live out behind the scenes, stay down in the city, getting in a mood if asked questions, having opinions and manipulating the energies, going back and forth endlessly. When would she drag these energies in herself up by the scruff and let her feminine side have its way instead, sitting on the Mountain, no longer locked in alcoves but free to look out into the distance of the white capped mountains, through the prayer flags and through the prayer she is saying.

 

I am excited to do a little more writing and hope you enjoy my jargon about the dreams. I am always glad to hear from my readers and even happier when I have a chance to consistently work with someone who is in earnest about getting into the space of the unconscious and bringing together the opposites in themselves. Let me know if I can be of help in making space for you while you make space for your own healing. It is what I am cut out to do. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

 

 

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Meditation and Dream Work

 

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Morning Mandala

This morning, for first breakfast, she brought the tea outside. She sees the bare Catalpa tree and the browned out hedge. Then she remembered to be mindful about the birds and she listened for them. She heard a woodpecker in the trees across the road and a few crows that drew her ear around the house toward the west. With her listening, a cardinal, vibrant red, came into the Catalpa with its muted alarm chirrup.

This in turn rose up two titmouse birds out of the center of the tree and into the side nearest to her. It is a very little light grey bird, with its own distinctive wa-wa sounds. It had black rings around its eyes and an overly large yellow beak, like it did not belong to the tiny face. The bird looks a little fearsome face on. It was finding foraging among the ivy leaves that climbed the tree and she could see the bird going through his morning functions. One time the bird flew so fast toward the ground she hadly saw it as it picked up something and went back up into the tree. All of this brought her delight and joy as she looked at the beauty of these little birds, and heard their sounds. All the sounds of the road fell away. They were very happy to feel the warmer weather again as she was. Sixty degrees, dampness on the porch and even the fake flowers looked fresh.

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Plastic flowers looked this morning

When she heard the clock tower in town start with a somber nine o’clock sound she rattled off the porch inside to light her candle and to burn some incense and determined to do it right, for silence and for concentration.

She thought of some clients and the pull and shove of motherhood and of being the good mother and of being the good child. She though of telling the mother to pretend to be the child and to carry on like her daughter and scream and roar and accuse the child of leaving her now that she has had a tantrum. She grinned a little at this though.

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Dream image from last week. A triter man with a plate on his head.

And that the mother not take those tantrums as evidence of a bad child and bad mother, but more as an outcrop of a past time of trauma that the child endured, a result of huge losses at an early age.

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Dream Images, two helpers trying to fix old leg wounds,  from earlier this week

And that the child is bringing a gift to her of tapping into the mother’s feelings of lack of control each time the child has the tantrum, in turn cobbled into the mother’s experiences of childhood. She may have to look at some of her own systems to help her resolve this, so her frustration can be put away safely in the right side of the brain and she can approach her child in love, however the child is acting.

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Dream image from last week. The empty space, waiting for something to grow in there that is creative. 

 

These are not all the detail or all the solution, but it was fun to see it a bit differently for a minute. A slow turning over of the leaves of the trees, a deep well of purity needed from the mother in which the child will be safe, what ever tantrum she needs to spread around to imitate the original pattern of the trauma, to get it out and drop it with this mother. She made sure to sent light to the mother and daughter, and both adults, like two sowers of the seeds of love, increasing love a hundred fold between the mother and daughter. That is the promise.

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Phallic image comes up representing what the dreamer may be doing with her male energies.

Rose asked for silence again, saw something plastic binding her and asked for healing. She had to wait until after the silence, when the plastic was gone and the light, like the golden light of a sweet candle, was within her and she felt the presence shifting her north and south, up and down, and obeyed some directions about breathing and movement, then and only then could she feel a change inside, pray some more for others and finish with singing her long time songs.

After Second breakfast, she was tidying up the mounds of clothes in her bedroom and making beds and wiping up and tidying up what she had created in the past two days of working away from home. On the porch again, writing, the cat sleeping on the chair nearby, the sound of far away sparrows and traffic, and the day goes on. It is time for first lunch she said. It was well past midday.

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I am available for dream counseling at my home office. I look forward to seeing you there. Love from Rose

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Mary was and is Delightful and Beautiful

This gallery contains 12 photos.

Originally posted on Rose Longworth Counseling:
Mary in 2014  enjoying Macy’s window. It is three years ago today that my youngest sister died in Ireland. I wrote about her then and have added some new pictures now to honor her…

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The Leprechaun and the Bacon

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How the bacon feels

There were two pieces of bacon left and she had her eye on one of the pieces, maybe more. She felt a little guilty she had eaten the rest of the side of bacon, quietly, deliberately, munchingly. It was so sweet, crisp and uneven, sizzling on the black pan on the red hot coals of turf. In the black cold of winter, it had a way of filling up her emptiness very satisfyingly.

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Whipping up the cream

In a moment of guilt and lapsing greediness, she told Uisneach about the two last pieces of bacon, forgetting to mention her name was on one of the pieces, assumed he would figure that all out. That morning he ate breakfast earlier then she, and he was well finished, his mess cleaned up, by the time she was ready to eat. She felt she knew what she might eat for breakfast, what concoction of greens, or eggs or porridge might pass her lips. She especially knew the bacon was on her plate that morning. Her eyes were a little lit up, a little green glint, from the inside glow her thoughts of the bacon were creating on her.

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She got the coals ready, the pan was hot and she went to find the bacon. There was no sign of it. She looked around the corner. Uisneach was busy with his papers and she asked if he had seen the bacon. Not only had he seen it, but also he had eaten it. There was no smell of bacon. Had he cooked it? Was he sure he had cooked it and eaten it. He said he lightly cooked it and ate the lot. She wondered if it had even greased his lips. She left quickly so he would not see how long her face was getting.

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Thinking about using the pan in the wrong way

She went back to the hot pan and to find the porridge that was nine days old and a little frozen waiting for its lot to be eaten. She placed in on the pan and in the coals above and below, with the tight lid on it. She waited for it to send out a slight smell of burning, and when it was bubbling she turned it over and made a crisp skin on the top and bottom. She whipped her fury about the bacon into some cream and honey. As she jumped around trying to get it to whip up, it slipped out of her greasy little fingers and was gone. She sat down near the mess, crying for all the injustices that ever beset her and ended up with the bacon and the cream, her most favored food, in her mind. She knew cleaning up her mess would not be easy.

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Faces that porridge can make

The porridge was not a bad breakfast but whenever she thought of the bacon and cream, she went a little sour, which in turn made her stomach sour and she had to carry around that lot for the day with her, eating a little of this and drinking a little of that to settle everything down again. Later, when she met druid Bernie, who never ate any bacon ever, and petted pigs and gave them names, she walked with him a ways. This adjusted her mood a bit, and when she told him of her not feeling well, he gave her apple pieces to feed to the pig and said it would make her feel better. Giving pieces of apple to the pig and hearing him snuffle it all down gave her a certain pleasure and she paused to think it might be good thing to not be eating pieces of this lovely pink pig. She left  feeling fine again.

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Her stomach was a little sour

When Rose woke up that morning, she had a dream. It reminded her of the Black Madonna and “The Child of Prague,” to whom, her mother prayed. As she awoke she knew to wait a second and not think of her dream, as something had to happen first. She waited. A wave of undulating movement went over her chest from one shoulder on one side to lower on the chest on the other. It looked similar to the thing that happens on her web site when she presses on the button “publish.” Then she remembered the dream.

 

It was the third or fourth ‘being chased’ dream, only this time there was a tall statuesque woman, beautiful, who was doing the chasing. She came in and as she turned to sit down she said how sorry she was for chasing Rose. Rose was a little amazed at this, hardly knowing how to take the apology. She presumed that all the chasers, including the killer, was sent by this black Madonna to get her attention.

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The Black Madonna and her daughter with the guitar

And when the madonna had her attention, and had her meditating in earnest, painting in watercolors, writing, making music, exercising, and then had her have the right attitude within these activities, then and only then could she come in and sit down and say she was sorry. Rose feared these chasing dreams as she lacked an interpretation that satisfied her. She said that a follow up dream would come to explain things to her and it did. Rose finally became “In earnest” about taking her quest to another level.

 

The right attitude is the one where she finally gets it. She is reminded of the parable of the Sower who goes out to sow the seed. The picture that came to her was of a tall woman with flowing hair, who was throwing out something of a gossamer quality, that changes the nine feet of space around her. This changes the space she walks in.  The  sower knows what she needs to sow. She knows of the miracle of the seeds multiplying, from one to one hundred and it is love she is sowing. If she does not know that nothing else matters. If she does know that nothing else matters.

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And if you want to understand what your dreams are about, hear their commentary on your spiritual efforts, then make sure you come and work with me with your dreams, your creativity and with your spiritual practices. For you see I am a counselor who works with dreams in her private practice and can be contacted through this site. I can also be found in the Center for Marriage and Family Counseling, working with clients on Tuesdays and Mondays as a Licensed Professional Counselor each week. You can access my information on Psychology Today.

Love from Rose

 

 

 

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The Leprechaun and Her Maker

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Mariah, the Leprechaun, was adjusting to the freezing weather and was considering how to block off the four breezes that met in her kitchen. One breeze came from the attic, another from the basement and the other two from her two doors. Sometimes a feather might lift off her table and resettle a few inches over. Rugs and turf fires were some help to prevent the cold creeping up her legs as often as it could. She and Uishneach would argue over whose turn it was to heat up the bed first each night. Uishneach the furnace mumbled about blocks of ice for feet and was soon asleep.

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It was then she had to think about other thoughts that were in her head. She began to think there was a stamp on her head. The stamp of whom she belonged to, the stamp of her original maker. Her house is not her house and her body is not her body because it all belongs to her Maker. However she seems to be in charge of the state of her house and of herself.

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She could do as she pleased. Cook what she pleased, create atmosphere as she pleased and go where she pleased. It seemed a very loose arrangement as she pulled the many colored quilts over her head.

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She looked at the blade of grass and saw it grow until there was a seed head on top and she counted the different kinds of seed heads on her way and she found twenty different kinds on a thirty foot stretch. That was some maker of just the grass. She certainly did not create that.

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Druid Bernie seemed to think that we are spit out by the Maker of all and that we are on our way back, and can tarry however long we want to here, getting to know how it all works, having free will, so we can get a grip on our evolution, helped by love, and the fruits of the spirit and by and meditation, in particular.

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He seemed to think we might be evolving from the hard core real of the cold physical and rational world and into the ascendance that a good story brings, or a good prayer or chat with the Maker. Being together with others, in love, laughing evolving onto higher energy, yet still here, heaven on earth, seemed to be his thing. He liked to meditate and have others do the same, as this brought down an energy on you that changed your heart when combined with ordinary efforts to be in helpfulness with others and in love with all of it.

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Indeed Maria often did meditate. Druid Bernie had put forward that we are marvelously made by our maker and that as we meditated we could open up these temples within us that are already there, this maker standing at the door waiting on us it seemed. That which made the blade of grass to rise, that Life, could also ascend through us and make us fruitful in a spiritual way. The blade of grass does not have to think. We insist on thinking. And that the thinking of our thinking is what creates us in our here and now, held in the way we find ourselves. We can use that thinking as a servant of the higher in us if we wanted.

She decided to sit down that early, early morning as New Year’ first morning was upon her and to see what’s it all about. She tried to keep her attention centered in the center of her head, as that was where there were two cathedrals beside each other inside. Druid Bernie had names for them. She felt herself flying backwards. It lasted a few seconds.

Something did rise in her if only for a few seconds leaving her landing and quickly coming to a stop. She felt held in a speed, a vibration that was beyond words. She ended her meditation her usual way by releasing all that got in the way of her path to the light. Then whatever light she had raised, she sent to others, who requested help and surrounded others with the light, especially all her relatives near and far. When she was finished it was two hours before dawn, time for this bird to get back to sleep she thought, and with a smile on her face she raced away into slumber. She might put her nose out into the cold the next morning but only for a few minutes, as she put many woolens on her, and looked like a little onion rolling up the lane.

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The Lane

When Rose awoke on New Year’s day she was surprised to find it was near eight o’clock and the temperature way down to one degree outside. She had a dream she was going on a trip to Morocco. However she did not have her passport with her, as she got ready to leave. She connected the dream to her inability to acknowledge she is not prepared properly and she should make some solid plans to increase this readiness to be in the bliss of it all, to ascend and fly as well as land and be in the landing in the here and now.

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Rose joined some friends, as she does every year at this time, expressing in art her hopes for the new year and making it solid, inviting in the right side of the brain, to be up-close and personal with the creator maker side of herself, on this first day of the year. An attempt at sealing her life to the Life of her Maker today, stealing a little fire, making symbols to inform her unprepared self where this Rose is going this year.

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And if you would like to get the year off to a good start then know I am available for consultation through your own dreams. I will lead you through this special trip of your unconscious dream into taking it into the conscious through art work and mandala and association. It is always a good thing to get a hold on your personal energies that can bring you that new year boost so needed in the cold and winter of the year, in the cold and winter of ourselves. May you be in Love, in Peace and in Warmth this coming New Year. From Rose.

 

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