The Rebel Yell.

I was camping at Sherando Lake this past weekend as a guest. We packed frozen jars of food to act as our fridge in our cooler over the next twenty-four hours. We had eggs, applesauce and a melon, as well as fresh vegetables and frozen beans. There was no mention of who was bringing what for good balanced meals. We did not go hungry.

Beautiful weather followed us all that day and evening and I had my trusty bike to lift me up and deposit me at the beach. My daughter and I swam out to the island in the lake twice; sitting on the rocks like snakes in between and getting toasty warm. I could not have been happier. The lake seemed clean, except a thin film of oils left by sunscreens smelling of coconut. We played a card game by our camp fire and the new comer to the game had beginners luck and won.

Passion flower grows on a vine and smells Divine

Saturday evening I was able to sit out on a bank that looked down on the upper lake. The lower lake, for swimming was to my left, also below where I was sitting. There was light cloud that did not hamper a lovely sunset. The whippoorwills regaled us with their three notes as they called to each other about territory and mating issues. I slowly went down many steps to get back to the car and mourned the possibility that I might not go this way again.

Back at the camp the fire was roaring along filled with many burning logs and my bones loved the feeling of being warmed right into the inside. A loud crash of thunder make us jump but we only moved into our tents when the rain started, which it did very soon. I fell asleep to the sound of crashing thunder, and falling rain.

I dreamed an anxious dream, I think on Saturday night. I forgot to attend a 9.00 appointment and no one called me to let me know from the office. I associated it to not attending church on Sunday Morning and compromised by doing a twenty minute sit with the four of us at the site. The cicada beetles were out in force. One of the campers felt that interval gave us plenty of time to say all that needed to be said relating to God. I wanted to say some prayers aloud but contented myself with saying them inside wishing light and love and healing on the campers and their nearest and dearest.

The other dream had me recommending to one of my young clients, a JMU student who loved dreams, that he read the Bagava Vita, a Hindu text. One of the campers knew it and had a translation by Ghandi. The camper said that Gandi considered the text to be the most important one for him. I thought it was about the right attitude to have if embroiled in a war. The bridge to my life of this dream brings me to my intention to read Revelations again, especially those lines that instructs the reader to “To Love God.” Sitting in silence is my way of doing this. The other bridge may be the war that happens as we struggle with life. My attitude needs scrubbing up all the time. 

Sometimes I write about intuition. One of our campers said they wanted to walk around the lake. I saw two boys riding off the path to my left. I made a plan to go with my camper friend and bike/walk the path. My friend said they would help me if needed. She had an intuition to go this way but would not have gone without company.

From the dreams

So we set off after pulling the bike from the car-rack. It was now Sunday almost noon and time to turn toward home with wet camping gear. However we tackled the path, which got stonier and narrower as we traveled up along a steep bank above the lake.  I was soon unable to ride the bike. I used it as my third and forth legs and was able to manipulate it enough for a while. I used it as my crutch.

I use my bike a lot.

I had to hold on tightly as well as keep the brakes pulled most of the time to keep it slow enough for me to walk, or ride upon.  When I was high on the bike for little bits, I wobbled between stones, and stopped when roots were too high for the bike to jump over. The tree roots and the stones, square ones and triangle ones, stuck up from the path everywhere before we got to the half way mark. Other hikers said it would remain difficult. They made way and smiled benevolent smiles at me.    

Camping grub

I found that I began to shout to balance out my anxiety about staying in control. This yelling bolstered me in the face of my fears. I scattered them on the path behind me.

They were wrong about the difficulty. Between the shouting and the riding on the second half, with a little wider path and less steep I stayed aloft on my bike. Once I caught my big toe against a stone, but it was only worth a momentary shout. I put up speed and no longer leaned on the brakes and gave out some unbridled shouts, hoping no one would notice. I was soon back at the beach and walked right into the water with my long tea shirt and my red face, cooling off a little, having left behind those voices that are not mine that inhabit my head.

Sometimes I see little tiny snakes on the sidewalk

As we left the area, a yellow rattler, eighteen inches long was on the road. I was told it had a number of rattles and a button. I stayed in the car until a large bee came inside. I stepped out opening all the windows and took a look at that half coiled rattler. My partner was anxious to stop it going down to the beach where there were lots of families.

The color of the snake, mostly yellow made me think of the third chakra, situated in the Don Tien, the Solar plexus. I am sure it is from where all my shouting came, as I circled around the pool of water that was the lake. I was happy to go home.

Out in the noon day sun watching the train go by.

Love from Rose.  

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The Mask

The plagues were making a comeback again in Moriah’s locality. It was frustrating to have to keep confronting this nebulous enemy. Moriah and the people had some meetings, as they pondered what to do about the plague and the advice of the Leprechauns and the Dwarves.

Some people locked themselves in their homes and stayed away from all, letting the dwarves bring them food for a price. Others escaped to relatives in the country, as the bigger communities were hot spots of the plague.

Moriah got the plague and survived but could not prove that she did. In any event she did not want to take the dwarves’ potions to give her immunity. She was sure she had immunity from tangling with the plague.

Some stayed at home and put a cross up for protection

Moriah ignored the rumors going around, that the potions would cause you to stand on your head, or cause a young woman to be barren. Other said it magnetized people and that they wold fly away into the sky. Moriah had some flying dreams and that was plenty for her.

When she decided to take the potions, then the noise in her head got very loud until she let go and said no. When the question of travel came up she was in a quandary. Most of her friends and relatives had taken the potions. They were keen to have Moriah do so as well.

The potions came in all kind of packages

Now Moriah had friends who were pressuring her to get the potions that would prevent the plague. They wanted her to get them for the sake of the community and for the sake of the children. They wanted her to wear a mask.

One day she came back to find a note on her door pleading with her to take the potions. She was surprised and thought at first one of her sisters had left her a note about visiting her. When she realized what it was, her face got warm and she clutched it to her as she went inside her house.

Writing on her door

She went to the western window, full of light and read “Take the potion for the sake of the children. Wear the mask.” 

This note smacked of another way to exclude her.  Moriah was especially sensitive since one of her friends had banned her from visiting. 

Moriah, crashed around, seeing to the turf fire, to make sure it did not die out and tried to get the kettle on only to find it was empty. Moriah galloped back and forth in her mind until her poor head was like thundering horses hooves and her head was full of noise again, and no amount of water in the kettle would help.

Standing at the Western Window

She decided to go outside and cool off. Moriah walked over to the pine tree and sat in a wooden rocking chair, and pulled her wool shawl around her. She lit a candle with some difficulty.

Then she lit some incense in the hope that the smell of her meditation times would run across her frontal brain inside her head and quiet down the noise. She hoped to reduce her ego and the aerating effects it was having on her cells puffing her up into a fine temper. She was determined to get back down where she was before seeing that piece of paper.

Wild horses in her head

She held the sweet smelling wood to her temple, saying prayers of peace, like Druid Bernie had taught her. She put it too close and nicked a burn into her skin and heard the sizzle of her small hairs of her eyebrow burning a little, with an accompanying nasty smell of its own.

The busy bee

She was glad that her little intentional ritual left her back down on the ground where she wanted to be. She fell into the presence of the sounds of nature, the thrush, the blackbird singing and the song of the cuckoo down the bank wth clear notes penetrating her brain. She heard and felt the wind in the nearby trees .

A pine cone hit her on the head

A pine cone hit her on the head.

Now she felt she could compromise and wear the mothering masks. She knew it might help her avoid any new varieties of the plague as well as protect children should she become a carrier of any new variety of the plague. The pine cone pounce on the head was the final adjustment she needed. She felt she had been struck gently from above.

Now she was ready to be thankful for being alive, for having a place under the pine tree, for having the good sense to sit and breath and listen for that peace that came from above, coming down over her, a dress.

The birds

She picked up the pine cone and went inside with that bucket of water and filled the kettle, glad to see the fire had a little roar to it and she opened the oven to put the apple cobbler inside to heat up and have for supper. She had cream and she had honey.

She heard a knock on the door and Brother Bernie stepped inside full of smiles and enquiry after her wellbeing.  He was in high anticipation of a hot cup of tea after a long walk and the bubbling pale apple mixture was a delight to his eyes. There was just a small piece of that note on the hob and he used it to light his pipe noting only the one word left unburned “mask.” He broke off two bits of the pinecone and dropped it into his pipe.

A mask of sorts

They had a long conversation about masks and their common use. Moriah finally told him her story of the piece of paper she found on her door. 

One of the scarvees

When he was leaving he left three colorful handkerchiefs on the table so Moriah had plenty of masks. He said they came from Egypt and were sure to be of help. The End.

I was in West Virginia a few times this summer and stayed in a farmhouse on top of a mountain from which the views were magnificent. I was close to heaven. You know the deal, you pray for me and be assured I send out a prayer for my readers for light and love and healing to go your way.

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Uses for the Peace Train of Thought

The Sky is not the limit.

I found myself trying to explain to someone about forgiveness prayers. The following comes of my own experience with forgiveness prayers and my use of such spiritual tools. I hope they can be helpful to you too.

I have two different prayers that I use when it comes to forgiveness. 

The first one relates to someone you have had a lot of interactions with, say a sibling or a spouse, eg Moriah, and you now have unresolved issues because of divorce or other family squabbles of a million different sorts. 

I found this image in my dream journal – not sure what inspired it!

This prayer goes like this: “I am praying to you Moriah. Thank you Moriah for doing to me all that you have done. Forgive me Moriah for doing to you all that I have done.”

I am praying to you (addressing my own higher self,) Rose.  Thank you Rose for doing to me all that you have done. Forgive me Rose for doing to you all that I have done. 

The above three lines incorporates the ideas that I am accepting all that has happened to me through Moriah. It incorporated the idea that God allowed all the various things to happen, both good and bad and especially the bad. (All things work together for those who love the Lord.) It also allowed some ownership by me of the tangles that happened between Moriah and me. 

Shoes inspired by a dream I heard from a client,,

 This prayer has helped me greatly with my feelings of intensity, annoyance, etc. with various people when I felt the relationship was broken and I had no power or control to put it to rights and/or get my own way in the situation.  

Working through these prayers on a daily basis has brought me into a softer feeling as time went by, over a period of 40 days. The instructions were to start again if you missed out on one day. I am not a great counter of days but I do persist, as I am now meditating on a daily basis. 

Hard to tell who she is – a doodle while concentrating on something else

The second prayer is “He/She is thine, as I am thine, let there be peace between us.” 

You can insert the relevant name at the beginning of the sentence. I used it any time I thought of a certain person in a negative way.  Sometimes the problem would be resolved. Other times I would feel ok about them and the feelings relating to the other person would dissolve, without any connections with the prayed for person. 

There is another subtly within this prayer just above. When you pray for peace to be between you, you are not trying to interfere with the other person and their life style, whatever it may be. Rather you are saying your own prayers, doing your own meditation and out of that space, you gather up that peace as a light, as a dove, to place it between you and that person. In this way, any difficult intentions or thoughts from the other person toward you, or visa versa, are taken care of by the peace you have placed between you and them. You can be peaceful within and leave the other person over there, without running any interference from you to cause them to stumble or be controlled by you.

From the dreams – mine- I am not in the driving seat.

We have been told that putting light into the other person, when they do not know you are doing that is forbidden, as it would have the effect of causing the other person to take your energy into their intentions. This would have the effect of increasing their negativity toward you.

The injunction is to surround them with the light, and like a “lit up car,” the people who need to see what they are doing will be able to see.

Any number of possibilities come in here. A lit up “person” can be avoided. Or perhaps someone “arrests them” and they get into a “program” that will help them, just because you surrounded them with the light. Demotions and “not elected again” situations may result from surrounding another, with light. We have all heard people say that something that seemed negative was something that saved their life. 

Pregnant man – my inner man is having some issues.

Spending half the night awake, saying negative prayers for or about another, we feel has hurt us, is the opposite of praying. You know the injunction from our lovely bible: “it would be better to have a milestone put around your neck and thrown into a lake, rather than send someone astray with all the negative thoughts.”

In my little bible study group , they brought out the idea, that God would not be happy that we would wish ill to another, as we are all God’s children. 

I found myself explaining the above to someone, and becoming clear about the need to not pray in a controlling way for another person. Leave them to their own life, just like I am in control of my own life and only that one. 

Give the wasted time to your daily practice. The peace that passeth understanding is there for the taking, as you go again and again to be filled with that peace. The more you practice, the more you will feel the growing peace within. sending out a prayer of peace for you. Love from Rose.

North End Greenway is a peaceful place for me to ride my bike.

Notes: The first directions above came from an article in a Venture Magazine put out by Edgar Cayce’s ARE. 

A good friend, Maria Prytula, gave me the second prayer some years ago. (It may be from Edgar Cayce materials also.)

The ideas relating to surrounding with light as opposed to sending light into another is also based on the ARE materials and my daily practice for fifty years.

(I have been a member of the ARE for just about fifty years now, attending a lecture by Hugh Lynn Cayce in a hotel in Dublin around 1971. I wandered my way through “A Search for God” Study Groups in Ireland and in the States for over twenty years also. As a family, we attended the ARE family Camps in Rural Retreat in South West Virginia while my children grew up into camp counselors. I was also a camp counselor for a time or two. I attended Workshops at the ARE Headquarters in Virginia Beach many years.  I also attended ARE Atlantic University and completed courses in meditation, dreams, healing, Inner Life and Transpersonal Psychology. The Edgar Cayce’s Association for Research and Enlightenment was a great starting point for me as I waded along into my spiritual path, in my early twenties. I still look forward to seeing the “Venture Inward” magazine.)

The ideas I express in my blog come from practicing meditation as well as many other influences and inklings gained from trying to put into practice what I know to be true inside.

Listening with the inner ear never fails to deliver.

4th of July Suset 2021 on that strip above Eastern Mennonite University where there is a great view both east and west. I did my master’s degree program in Counseling there.
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The Greenway to the Heart

I have been camping in the beautiful George Washington National Forest, at Todd Lake, high in the mountains. I was awoken in the dawn hours by certain coldness on my feet, which had stretched out beyond the coverings. I was up and out as soon as I glanced the brightening sky through the open tent flap.

I took the path above Todd Lake, as the sun played with the light over the rim of the mountains to the East. The lake was lower down by a good depth, looking eerie as the dark space below swirled about in fog.

I sat on a rock near a dead tree that dominated my immediate landscape. As the sun came over the rim and penetrated down into the dark lake hallow, the fog seemed desperate to escape this light and ran into a corner of the lake where two high banks met, causing the wind to swirl that fog into a cylindrical, visible cone that danced before my eyes. It was electrifying to see this perfectly formed funnel, a light grey in color, gyrate before me. It quickly disappeared.

A useful dead tree at the beach.

Three rabbits sat on a mown path along a meadow plateau near where I sat. The younger two rabbits jumped over each other in a mating dance of their own.

A baby wren landed on a small tree and cried out to be fed, addressing the sky, its parents, and the sunshine. It sent out its signals in all four directions.

The tree above me became very busy, as two black-capped chickadees seemed to object to the little wren being there. The baby wren ignored their posturing and chirps completely.

On the bare stick branches of the dead tree nearby, between the rising sun, and me a woodpecker climbed up looking for breakfast, knocking on the wood, four beats. The round thumps swelled out from the rotten wood.

It was hard to close my eyes against this busy breakfast time all around me above the lake. The wonders of the lake were played on by the sun, wind and shade. The speckles of light on the lake shone with newness after a night of rain. My silence brought newness inside.

I have always been puzzled about how Jesus fits into the grand scheme of the spiritual and meditation. My mother had a palpable love for Jesus and my Granduncle the priest shared his “Imitation of Christ” with her and I have it now. This never prevented me from having a false feeling when I would say I loved Jesus. My Bible Group prayed over me “by the Spilt Blood of Jesus.” The muscles in my leg let go and gave way to their entreaties.

A busy bee not bothered by the drouth at the North End Greenway.

As I rode my bike alone in the early evening down by the North End Green Way, the feeling toward Jesus, or the lack there of, came to my mind and all I ever read on this subject fell into place. Jesus never said we were to do anything other than “Love God.” He said, “Me and he Father are one.” In his last days on earth, prior to his crucifixion, he is reported to have gone to great pains to explain this to his followers. I tried for a while to read John’s gospel daily, Chapter’s fourteen through seventeen. Edgar Cayce’s comments relating to these verses were many and varied insisting on how helpful they would be to anyone who would read them in and of themselves.

As I went along the flat multi use bicycle path, I was hemmed in by tall flowering plants and newly planted trees. The black-eyed Susans waved their yellow heads by the thousand and bee-balm struck a blue note here and there. Even the thistles mostly on the right of me, with their purple show were of great interest to the golden yellow finches, which could be seen flying in a wave like motion.

The stream nearby was dry and the stony bottom was visible. A dear emerged out of the riverbank and briefly stared at me. His big round eyes and smart ears and beautiful golden color caught me by surprise. The eyes held me briefly, as we were only a few feet apart.

The dry stream

Racing on that greenway, deserted of people because of the heat, and silent because of being a little removed from the trucks on Liberty Street, dragged me into a gap and I briefly saw, what I wanted to see for so long.

Jesus was riding along with me, listening to my mantra, and affirming me in reaching out through the top of my head for the mist of God, feeling that overflowing down over me a dress.

My personal effort to reach into the gap, connecting in ever widening circles throughout my body; I felt a note of attunement as I sung.

Spending time alone, even on a bike, cutting off the world in favor of the gap where I can hide and look for the back of God flying by.

The intention of finding, however foggy, the gap where the back of God flies by is the wanted prize for me. 

a little dancing with a helpful inner opposite – the feet are free here.

I dreamed that my inner man has his feet on mine and preventing me from moving with any fluidity. It will do me well to note that this is not another person but part of me that holds me back. It is a result of the sticky stuff of my habits and harmful ways.

That it is obscure and intractable and an undesirable fruit will only become clear if I take that responsibility of asking for liberation from the feet that bind me, my own, transfixing my physical body into an inability to free myself from the obscure and the tricky that is sticky in me

Dream work, prayer mantra and meditation are the stuff that brings into the flow of the mountain streams, that fills the rivers and that liberates the energy in my backbones. May the Love of God be in your Back Bone?  Love from Rose.

PS: – I pray for you and you pray for me. It is working. I am remembering more often to do this. You can too. A new habit.

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Doors on the Past – An Acorn of Life

The waxing gibbous moon came in the window of the tent, from between trees, as we were settling down the night. The whippoorwill made a mad blast of sound a time or two and stopped again. Lying on the ground so close to earth and seeing the firmament above stretched my back into an alignment along my back.

I caught a dream last night, could see it and then not see it. I felt like my dreams are coming back in. In the morning I tried for a while to puzzle out the fading out dream before concentrating on coffee. It was well smoked from the fire. Smoked coffee like that, we found out from the camp manager, is called “devil’s coffee.”

Wild Horses all together

We brewed up more water and covered the (now black) pot with tinfoil to make more water and new coffee. It was much better but it was my second dose, trying to get it right. I worried about sleep later when I went to bed.

We found an old oak stamp to burn on the fire. We blew that fire aflame and wondered how many hundreds of years old the old red oak stump had endured, since that block was an acorn, pushing down into the ground with a root from an acorn and putting out two little leave to the sky to reach upwards. This stump had come to the great destroying part of its life.

West Virginia is full of beautiful trees in places

Soon that cavernous part of the stump on the underside was totally lit up with red coals and the light thereof. As night settled the pointy part of the root was lost in the darkness above. The milky white stars were flickering out and the lightening bugs came around our camp to see our fire, the flames lit up the pointy top which gave us ancient faces male or female, depending where on the stump you looked.

I opened a conversation about past lives and ended up talking about episode in this life that seemed like “past lives.” They were so different from the present life, the here and now life. A long log, like a leg with a bended kneed was added to the fire.

Mandala

As it straddled the flames, I stared and it was as if the log was one of my legs and my imaginaation brought me to a vision from thirty years ago.

At that time, over three decades ago, I was deliberately trying to access my past life. In my effort to go back, my inner eye was activated, and I saw my self in the flames.

I was living in a “bedsit” in Phibsborough in Dublin, Ireland. We were gobbling up materials on past lives, books, Edgar Cayce materials, and were part of a “Yoga Group” who were insisting that the leader was a reincarnation of a great holy leader from the past and the rest of us were his followers. I have to smile when I look back now.

Permission to fill in anything is a good thing when working a mandala

However I think that effort on my part was genuine. I meditated first and then this is what I remember. I was looking at a girl that was familiar to me. She had on knitted wool, “argyle pattern” sweater. It had yellow red and orange triangles woven into the lines. She was standing in the fire, which made her sweater light up even more.  The heat simmered up between the observer and the observed, a little blurred by the shimmer and the smoke. I did not feel the heat at all. Her eyes were open.

Purple and blue squared from meditation had to be honored in this mandala

This remained as a past life remembrance over the years. I understood why I was being burned. Other possibilities for past lives that came to me at that time was of being a monk, in a mountainous town in Switzerland. I was wearing a brown habit as I came over the hill into a beautiful view.

Perhaps that last life above was the same one when I became alcoholic as I had charge of a wine caller under the castle. The picture was of an unhappy face, standing in the doorway of a small door in a great wall. That one was a dream. The monk was covered in an old brown habit.

From the session

Another possible past life was of druids, walking around in a circle, throwing hazel sticks in a certain coordinated pattern above our heads to bring about healing. Sometimes my mentor/dream interpreter would name such dreams past life dreams.

My dreams brought past lives to me, a pattern of religious life, healer, and carrying other challenges of one sort or another.

All of the above came to me because of that staring into the fire, the knee of the tree, standing in for my knee, the feeling of observing my own knee, being burned and at the same time, being outside of the vision.

Art from a child’s book

Being emulated, whether voluntarily of against one’s will, brings the possibility of leaving the body and being an observer, now or back when it all happened.

It is nice to sit back into the consciousness of all of who we are- so relaxing the fire and the feeling of sitting upon a past that is many and varied, not just the fun of this life but the light, a little glimpse, of olden other days too.

A recent beautiful sunset on 4th of July

The log sat in a good bed of coals and burned all night long, leaving enough coals under the ashes to make some more coffee in the morning.

I went off to the lake in the morning to do some yoga exercises and to lay facing down under some tree, on my mat to meditate. There were some  people about but enough room to feel the quiet and the permission to invite in other, the sacred.

Pondering past lives and how it helps me understand that all that comes to us in this life is interwoven with a past that spans lifetimes, and the only reason why things happen to us in precicely the way they do.

Thank you for reading, I will pray for you and you can pray for me. Like if you do, comment if you wish. I always love to hear from my readers. Love from Rose.

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There is nothing I shall Want

But there is the rub – I always wanted so much. Whether it was the huge rocks in the lot beside my Belmont house or whether it was a big number of things at my house in Harrisonburg, that needed fixing, I was forever imagining them done. The crack in the ceiling needed reassessing and the fan was too slow or not working.

The door to the basement, for which I had a lot of wants, was always looming at me. It was made of particleboard. It became host to a colony of ants who found good eating and a creche for their young, all within and under that door. And I wanted a real door replacement, complete with windows, swinging open, letting in Gods heavenly light. Those old flat doors were hard for me to life up every time I wanted them opened. It was hard also to watch the ants running around trying to save their young progeny every time I opened the door.

The swimming goddess

So why am I shocked that someone is now living with me that wants to do all that and then some, The hedge is in hand, the ivy is pulled out to within an inch of its life, the grass is cut in diagonal lines, the grass is pulled out of the crevices in the walk. 

It is stunning to consider that all the imagining has resulted in having a person show up and do these things for me. 

Surely these clematis are the work of the Goddess.

It caused me to consider that my thinking has taken on a whole new meaning and that which I imagined relating to a relationship with God is what I now have.

Down at the river when we were cooking supper out on the grill, a woman gesticulated toward me. I waved and was on my way. Later she came to have her photo taken with me and explained she could see my aura, that it was light around me and she could see it. She wept as she spoke to me. She was from South America. 

From the session

Her friend translated for her. 

I became a little nervous as I though I smelled alcohol on her breath. I was a little huffy for my own space, as she caught a grip on my hand. It is hard to not get inflated when you are told such things. My natural huffiness kept my feet on the ground.

At the river today the water is thundering along beside the steep bank. We had a few nice rains. As I looked up to the top, the almost straight up steep bank was capped with green trees rounding against the sky. The steep bank on the other side from me, was strewn with downed tree trunks at different angles cross-crossing in the spaces between the trees.

A child’s art – dancing on the river

I sat into the water two times, a little afraid to venture out very far. I was in the water close to the edge splashing about, lying back and rolling over to give myself a good dunking. I got out and dried off and heated my body in the sun that was shining down on me from between the trees. I am a little heated in the face right now and feeling toasty as the evening wears on.

Before we left the area, we stopped at a watering hole that is deep but safer as a line of rocks holds the water back. I am familiar with this watering hole.  I jumped in there over my head, and I was pushed back to shallower water and felt a lovely tingle from the fast moving stream. I slept most of the way home; wild horses could not have kept me awake.

deeper waters here

From the dream worlds, I am hearing about those feelings of great empathy for those people within us who are locked away in a fast moving train, directionless. The owner of the dream wept as she felt into her empathy. I was reminded of the Revelation verses about the church of Laodicea. The Angel of this church says that we need to buy from that angel white raiment and gold tried in the fire because we are blind and naked in our approach to our lives and our souls and what is needed for us now.

And there was that dream of the convicts who are in another dream. The dreamer is breaking down and starting again with the entrance of empty nesting and loss and grief of a recently deceased difficult parent. We are given the choice, as always, to cut ourselves off and be ruled by those convicts even as we need to become aware of those influence that will stymie out efforts to move forward.

From the dreams – watercolor completed by a client prior to coming to session.

We often concoct a plan to avoid the path, which is straight forward, wherever the spirit leads.

About that imagination, for all the things that needed to get done, that now are getting done, I realize that the consistent use of the imagination to see something done can also be used to commit with God.

We can imagine into being with God, working with God, feeling God’s love in our hearts, and when we really feel it to recognize it and wait on it again and again.

It is a strange lesson to learn, that I just have to take my relationship with God seriously and happily and for real. Breathing into that emptying out is always a good thing, with more and more of spirit and less and less of self.

I could not find some information I knew I had written down in the back of a book. I looked in so many books over a six-week period, but never was able to find it. Then yesterday, I referenced God for help, and said that at some level, I knew where it was. I let my eyes stray and they lit on my dream book, and sure enough it was all there waiting for me, on that back page where I squirreled it away.  

From the Spring garden – Star of Bethlehem and other flowers

So I think I am going to try to be more serious in the faith that I can move mountains. I can be happier; I can say prayers of forgiveness for someone who has peeved me to death and back again. Three strands of the spirit; wisdom, power and strength, when woven together will help me sit into the spirit, gently rocked, stronger, with that strength, I have been asking for, for over forty years, that wisdom and that power.  It is there for the taken, like on a shelf that is a little higher up but never out of reach of the soul, who is so happy to be asked to pull it toward you to find it right there in the back of our heads. We are made for this spirit link.

Blowing in the wind ….

Part of this spirit link tells us of our interconnection and our ability to send light and love and healing to others. So I pray for you and you pray for me. Love you all. Rose.

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Sipping Stones

Last Sunday, I went to Rawley Springs for a Sunday Afternoon. We brought food to cook and found ourselves at the swimming hole, in water that goes up to the waist and then some. It was cold, flowing fast and dark, in the shade of the leafy trees.

There was a family there that lived nearby the swimming hole. The father sat on our cooler and was talking to us. The middle child, a beautiful daughter, wanted me to help her find a drawing stone, the softer one that will write like brown chalk on other white looking stones. 

We abandoned the quest for the brown stones and I asked if she wanted to “skip” some stones. We had a great time as I explained the flick of the wrist and how it might work. There is something for teaching someone else how to do something. I found that most of our stones skipped at least once and some impressively. She got the hang of it. 

Mandala completed by a client in session.

She jumped up to tell her Daddy of her accomplishments with the stones. She stood int an angle, one foot in front of another to show herself in her best light. She could have been that girl at the end of the runway showing off her fine clothes. 

It was fun to see how one of my many stones rolled along my index finger before hitting the water with a fine skip that seemed to go on into four more skips before rolling along the top of the water until it got most of the way across. That stone walked on water!

Water colors by the river. I was supposed to be painting my painter girl as a mirmaid

While out at the river for that afternoon, I carried out my watercolors and two little paint brushes and a journal for paper. It was the one I had with me in Napal and India. When I pulled some pages out to draw something, my local child presented herself and wanted to paint. I suggested she paint a picture of her father. He was the one still sitting on the cooler. 

She finished up her Dad quickly. Her sister demanded a turn, took a stab at the paper with brown paint and demanded a new piece of paper. I said no more paper so she abandoned her painting. She was blue from swimming in the cold water. 

A painting of her father with a little energetic thing to the right to indicate a good connection between him and the daughter.

Her sister noted that the brown line her sister drew was perfect for what she wanted and promptly draw a picture of me on top of that brown line.  I love the lines she made and accepted her picture. Her father wanted to know if I wanted her picture of him. I was sure it was destined for his fridge and he took it with him. 

There was also a big family who were grilling up lots of meat. Our little fire was slow and the father of that red-hot charcoal fire offered us his fire. He had finished cooking for now. We realized we could do with the boost and used his fire to cook some whiting (fish.) We cooked some squash on the side also. 

A picture of rose on top of the original brown line. I love the exuberance expressed by my little painter girl

Our fish was smoked lightly from our little fire and thoroughly cooked on the red- hot coals. It was lovely to eat our evening meal by the river.

The owner of that lovely fire had a rabbit, which he cooked and it was covered in barbecue sauce. He offered bits of it to all near by. I thought it was tasty if a bit tough and it reminded me of my father.  He often went out with his shotgun and would bring in a brace of rabbits for boiling for soup or for roasting. Bacon was also involved with flavoring the roasting rabbit as they sit together on a pan in the gas over.  I remember my father’s enthusiasm for having us like them, which I did.

I went to dream group on Monday night and we met for the first time outside on the deck of one of the dreamers. There was a family of Pileated Woodpeckers near by who regaled us with they sounds. We never saw them but the owner said they come on a daily basis to eat from her suet feeder, through the morning hours. They take turns, she said. 

I had a spate of dreams that I could not figure out and was a bit terrified of them. There was a belching with black smoke tree, two dogs in a laneway that I wished would never see me due to some malevolent aspect of them and a few more. My fellow dreamers, my age and older were quick to pin them down to something difficult going on now originating in a history I would have thought was over. I had projected the symbols into more recent events and wondered what was going on. 

From the dreams – watercolor completed by a client prior to coming to session.

When it comes to my dreams I am very anxious about sharing them even in a group forum but when my turn came I was able to tell my dreams and to listen to the feedback. As usual, they found a way to ask me questions and to tell my life and I was very grateful. We often have blind spots about our own dreams. 

On the dream front I was told two dreams from others that had beautiful feeling qualities in each. One was about magnificent singing by a group of young soldier boys, that came out of a triangular pyramid at the top of a house. (I associated it to the pyramids, and that triangular symbol of the eye of God.) 

The swimming goddess

The other involved swimming in a personal stream in a strong and determined way as a union of opposites brought beautiful blue and green colors together in the water as she felt the flow of life through her in her swimming. A natural swimming Goddess woman came through as she is negotiating loss in her life. 

Surely these climnatis are the work the Goddess.

Thank you for reading and I will pray for you and you can pray for me. I am seeing people at my house for one-hour sessions of dream interpretation. Let me know if you want to have regular sessions or a once off session to see if dream analysis  is something you want to include in your life. I sure am glad that I can look at my own dreams and see the life and feeling flowing there. Love from Rose. 

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More on Go Sin No More.

It is the month of the May Blossoms and the Flower Moon is full tonight. May has left us with a beautiful feeling as we look about into the gardens and the streets where we live. The abundance of colors was enough to carry us on a wave of Beaty that we could not feel we deserve.The hymn we were sure to sing in May in my boarding school had a refrain “Oh Mary we crown thee with blossoms today, Queen of the Angels and Queen of the May.”

Meditation Today. We can love God – by activating the lover in us, reaching up to become the pain, the separation God feels about us as we are locked in our shells. 

We ask first with warmth, with pressure and pleasure of attending, with raising up our eyes to the mountains, by holding an extended breath, so that we cannot be ignored. When we pull ourselves through those ties that bind us in the closed shell of our hearts, the heart opens. 

My mother grew roses such as these in the hedge.

Hold up the attention to the Single Eye so we can be filled with light,  until it is opened to the Throne above. You say “I am yours and I am here”. We let go into the unknown and see a beauty that steps forth before us sprinkling May blossoms around, a blessing that there is not room enough to receive tumbling out of the yellow windows of Heaven – no longer separated but together in union. Be sure to breath into those blossoms all through May and enjoy the Flower Moon.

Goddess of the Flowers

More on Go Sin No More

I got some positive feedback relating to my last blog “Sin No More.” I feel that the real awareness for me is to not let myself away with “business as usual.” If I say I forgive someone, am praying for them, then I will not give myself the luxury of going over everything again and literally talking to them in my head in a negative way. 

Mandals

“Go sin no More” might also apply to not eating sugar. Someone visits with a great cookie and a coffee for me when her smiling face comes in the door. I am not drinking coffee after the morning half cup. But I allow myself to parcel out a quarter mug for myself. The coffee has written over it “Go sleep no more.”

About that cookie, well I seem to totally forget my prohibition on sugar, until I start eating it and it is laden with sugar, pressed down and running over. I am trying to get rid of the arthritis and on the say-so of a healer I am stopping the sugar in many ways. If I am sick/arthritic, than I have to consider that it is a sin to eat the sugar that gives me inflammation and pain around my joints. I will keep you posted relating to my sinning.

Half way through the cookie, I push the second half into the bag and quietly bring it to the counter. I put it in the trashcan and that is that or is it?

She is working on her joints

I had a great visit with my friend as we talked about bible study, and because of her pain relating to childhood and religious issues, she cannot be in Christian Bible Study Groups.

We talked about anatomy and considered the anatomy of Jesus. He was always dressed in white flowing robes, spun in a one piece by the women who loved him in his life. It was a source of great merriment between us as she was more direct. 

What is held down in the unconscious can come up in humor. Perhaps you too were raised under the hand of nuns and a mother and a society that feels that nature is fallen.

From the dreams

I realized that Jesus is to the Father as Mohammed is to Allah and Abraham to Yahweh and Buddha to God and there are many other saints that could be mentioned. The former were all men of God. I agree that they are all very special and that they turned the corner into achieving the highest possibility for man on this earth, miracle workers, conversant with God and starters of new religions.

They opened up their hearts in love and God poured down that grace into them and they were able to use it in the right way to help and heal others. The fact that they had many lives before-hand, preparing them for their holiness life is a given.

From the dreams – not looking too happy about being joined at the hip and stepping on her feet.Perhaps the male energy in me is stepping on the feminine energy within – a big Nono.

I think that we have the choice to embody that love on a daily basis, in our Heart Chakra. It includes being of service to those that come our way.

I listened to a talk on Thomas Merton. At the corner of Walnut and 4thin Louisville Kentucky, he had a transcendent moment when he saw that spark of the divine in all the passers-by. He wanted to so badly let them know. He wrote over 7,000 letters and many books. Perhaps that was his service. It was nice to think that my writing can be a form of service. The opening of his own heart into the vision of the Divine within him, the Kingdom of God within, makes him able to see directly into the shining light we all carry. 

From a broken coffee cup.

When I talked to a preacher and his wife recently, they were pretty adamant that people who are against such light may treat you badly and their advice was not to engage with all that. We can look to them, send blessing and see the light in them. No need to get into any dog fights. Go sin no more.

About that cookie;  I retrieved it, brown bag and all and crumbled it over my porridge next morning. Like an alcoholic, addiction to sugar is strong after a lifetime of using it religiously to fill me up and to numb me out. 

The light is above me – coming through the blue earring – hoping to get it flowing through me as well..

I hope you can carve out time to be in holiness yourself. It is a marvelous gift to the Spirit within and will not go unnoticed by your soul. Keep doing the things that makes your soul satisfied so that our getting and spending will not way lay our lives in waste. You know the drill, I will pray for my readers and you can pray for me. You carry me high. Thank you for reading.

Love from The Rose.

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Go Sin No More – and Other Confessions

Part of many religions is the idea that we ask forgiveness for sins and this was a prominant ritual in my Catholic Faith. We set out for church for Mass and Confessions and especially at Easter time. While this was largly an unconscious act for me, I am more aware of it now as I tack in the injunction “Go Sin no More.”

Mrs. Murray, my national School Teacher, prepared me for my first confession. The school was under direction of the church and was up the road just a little bit on the other side from the school. It was flanked by graveyards on either side, a place that contained most of my ancestors on my mother’s side of the family.

Mrs Murray helped lead ups through the rituals by showing us what was involved.

Mrs. Murray brought us into the church and we stepped up into the Confessional and had to stand, as we were too small to kneel. I have no memory of my sins but we were prompted by our teacher to find some sin for the priest. In those days, not obeying parents and forgetting prayers was part of the list. We were taught the “I confess to almighty God” and “Oh MY God I am heartily sorry”, a prayer known as the “Act of Contrition.” We then were given “Penance” which could be “Three Hail Maries.” We were all of seven when we were doing this.

Spring Flowers

We could “Make our First Communion” after the “First Confessions.” We dressed up in white dresses and veils and wore new black leather patent shoes and white ankle socks. This second sacrament after Baptism, happened in the springtime, maybe May.

We did a trial run at the church with the “Holy Communion” opening our mouths so the “Host” could be placed on the outstretched tongue and taken into the mouth. Mrs Murray was our stand-in for the priest, for the practice run. We had to be fasting that morning of the real communion.

Sometimes we were given small amounts of change, sixpence or a shilling, from relatives or friends of the family. It was a special time and a celebration into the awareness of what is sin, and then made clean so we could receive God into our inner selves.

What brings me to the story above is that I have not been a practicing Catholic for many years but always felt free to go to confessions and Communion, as I felt inclined.

On the Way to Confessions

When I was upset recently, I though I could go to Confessions. It was an impulsive move, as I rode past the church on my bike. I parked my bike between a shrub and the wall and went inside. There was a young man, who looked like a priest, had a collar on him, and said that if I wanted confessions, he would hear them.

Speaks for itself

He took out two folding tinny chairs, and we sat opposite each other and he decided to put on the “Stole”, a purple scarflike vestment for around the neck. He said he would make it official. I said the invocation prayer “Bless me father for I have sinned” and told him what I considered my current sins, including annoying the life out of a relative of mine. She said I was “oblivious” and other such things.

After getting all my sins out, he asked me “Are you a practicing Catholic?” I said no I have not been for some time. He stood up, took off his stole and said he could not hear my confessions unless I intended to be a practicing Catholic. He opened the door and put away our chairs and his vestment for confessions.

Four becomes one in Harrisonburg – four unkindness become one in kindness

The act of confessing itself was a ritual that freed me in some way. The ritual of feeling the need to say, I was wrong and I would like to fix that in myself, is what I needed.

I told my sister in England what had happened. She is married to a Deacon of the Catholic Church and she “went off” on this priest who “retained my sins.” I do not think I will return to the fold of the Catholic Church, for a number of reasons, not necessarily connected to the above event. I will always be a follower of the man Jesus who became the Christ, “Me and the Father are One,” he said.

/Me the priest and the Confessional

The important thing is that I am able to forgive myself for anything awkard, shamefull, and even for being oblivious. I then become more conscious as I move forward  trying to “sin no more.”

I imagine that Jesus, Buddha and Gurus all fall down laughing, as their followers insist that only they are right.  By looking at their different teachings, they each can help us to have a properly human experience, forgiving ourselves and stemming the tide of the permission we give ourselves to give others an improper human experience. “Go sin no More” is implied in the whole act of confessions, and is now taped to my forehead as I go about my day, looking at ice-cream parlors etc.  

Looking down on a Redbud at JMU

As I look into the dreams, gifts from the unconscious they help me identify where I need to change. Waking up out of the oblivious is the fruit of confessions.

Wherever you find yourself on your spiritual journey, do not be afraid to confess your sins as you find yourself in the spirit and of course go sin no more. To sin no more includes the idea that something I am doing or thinking is leaving me in a mess either mentally or spiritually. I can intuit what that is, line upon line, here a little and there a little as I move myself away from unhealthy habits of cursing up a storm or eating trash or emotionally blowing lots of wind into half truths about others and myself. This is the truth that will make you free and no one will do it for you. Love from Rose.

In Harrisonburg – a climbing wall
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THE BLISS OF SOLITUDE

This morning I was at the ocean front at daybreak. There was a line of what looked like clouds and I did not see any rising sun but could see that light change in a warm way. I stood there for a while and sat cross-legged afterwards.  My feet were bare and cold so I immersed them in the sand. It had a warming effect. Then I tried meditating. A large black lab came up and slobbered all over my face. His owner, a youngish man said his dog thinks everyone is his friend. 

The exercisers in the fog

As I sat the clouds became a fog that came and surrounded me on my little perch on the edge of the ocean. The birds, the people and dogs were surreal. When the lab dog’s owner came back up he stopped again and commented on the fog as my face got another licking. He noted that he took videos of the fog, as no one would believe what he had seen. He said it had a mystic quality and the sun looked as the moon.

The sun and the fog gave me a glow.

Yesterday when I meditated, at the edge of the dunes to avoid the breeze, it was a sunnier morning. Pelican groups were flying up and down the beach over the water. When I opened my eyes there was a flock of them making a beeline in my direction. I could not believe it. They use their wings so sparingly, almost stopping in mid air. When they were within a few yards, they literally stalled in the air, shifted their bodies back toward the water, and flew in that direction. 

Sunrise at the beach at Kill Devil Hills

They have this way of undulating as they fly and from where I sat on the beach, as they flew back into the trough between the beach and the ocean, it was as if they were flying full tilt into the sand and disappeared, only to come up again, one after the other and into the air over the water. 

As the morning wore on past nine o’clock, I was pulled toward the water and a quick immersion. I found it bracing, stayed in long enough for a wave of the water to climb my back and wet some of my head. I was not cold as the fog lifted and then the sun was hot. 

COUPLE FROM THE MIDWEST

I met a couple from the mid west, as I left the beach. Their son was vegan and they were resisting his cooking and other such thing. I wish I had a son with grandchildren. I would surely move in and love the food. Her son also works on the attachments of muscles to bones and can relieve his father of all his pain. Definitely moving in. 

From the dreams

I have had two treatment at the Spa here at ARE and the first was a colonic. I now know the meaning of the words “showing my butt.” When I was in practice in a smallish town in Virginia, some of my country clients would say such words as “I showed my butt” or he “showed his butt.” One of the other practitioners of at the spa told me that she once was the demo for a class of students of the colonics. She said that took some courage. 

Blue Angel Statue in Meditation Garden at the ARE

I wanted another treatment and without thinking too much I signed on for a cranial sacral hour. She told me she was free from pain for fifteen years She avoids all sugar and each day when she gets up she asks how her body is and if she has any pain or inflammation. Then she tries to look at her diet from the previous day to say what she did wrong for her pain body. She said she never gets pain now and can eat a little sugar sometimes. . 

If a snake and a cat and a chicken comes to bite you in the dreams, you could investigate it with me.

She also meditates five to ten hours a day. She starts her day at 4 am, is very energized and gets “lots done everyday anyway.” She also said she feels that she goes out “into a field” and that what ever she needs comes her way. I was highly inspired to meditate more. 

Sun coming through the blooming shrub – stayed blooming all winter.

I asked her about her relationships and she said her ex has fallen in love with her again. I guess she may have some karma to work out there still. I said nothing on that subject other than to say that I liked the film “The Garcia Girls” which modeled an older woman having a sex life and enjoying it. I enjoyed it immensely – the movie and the treatment.

A litte watercoloring on the Sound side beach in Hatteras.

As the cranial sacral session went on I went silent and felt her energy as she worked on me. I got more relaxed and toward the end I breathed out something. This was followed by seeing a flower that was purple in color with a lightening strike going through it. 

In the lawn at Kill Devil Hills

She said her session would take twenty four to forty eights hours working on me. As I lay in the sand later and meditated I felt that sinking into the ground that brings peace and calm with it. I went through the motions of meditation and felt happy just to be, appreciating the bliss all around and in me. 

A breeding Double Crested Comeratn in Seashore State Park

My bliss is to be near large bodies of water, work with people and with dreams and to write. All three bring me immense satisfaction. If you have some dreams to share, be sure to contact me. I am on Psychology Today as a Licensed Professional Counselor. I do Telehealth and in person Counseling.

The pine was blooming where I did Qi Gong over the phone with Elizabeth Scott while at Kill Devil Hills.

Thank you for your reading. You can sign up and follow me so than an email comes to you when ever I post a blog such as this. Please like if you do and I promise to send some lightyour way and you can send some my way.

I am reading and watching some Joseph Campbell media and it reminds me how I watched his shows a long time ago. I understand it better now that I am older and a meditator. Bring on the Bliss. Love from Rose. 

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