Morning Exercises of one sort and another

This is a description of a short half hour in my life. It happened at 8.00 am this morning as I went out to do Qigong on the porch. We are standing six feet apart minimum to avoid any contamination relating to the current plague we are all dealing with. 

From the JMU Arboretum

My whole job has changed for now, and involves doing counseling over the screens. Sometimes I have to deal with voice delays, dogs jumping on client’s keyboard every time he hears my voice, and general panic from myself relating to a slew of new passwords for counseling web sites. 

My tulips

Mostly I am ok now but have the urge to pull the blankets over my head first thing and wish things to be otherwise. I know I have to follow this with prayers to the Lord God of Hosts…. It always help a lot to be dragged out into the rising sun and brightening sky with an invocation to the Spirit that holds all this up in space. Saluting the Chi in little and big ways is a good start to the day. 

Dandelions – to eat or not to eat

After I got up I made sure I had some hot drink to bring with me to the porch. I filled it up twice as I had too much meat over the weekend and I needed this water helper for some reasons that will remain unmentioned here. 

I decided to be bare foot and noticed that it was not too cold and the spot I stood on warmed up quiet a bit with the help of my body heat and when I had to change feet positions I went back time and again to my foot spots, now noticeable in the lengthening grass.  

More flowers at the Arboretum

The tulips closed up overnight and looked all together compared to yesterday in the heat of the day when they looked like they were all undone, all leaves fully open. If I catch them at the right time of the day the black shiny in the center looks totally blue as it reflects the sky.

These paper white daffodils are also in my yard.

A cardinal, above me on the wires over my hedge got my attention, singing in the now bright sunshine. I looked up just as it decided to fly down to the spot I was now occupying, on the lawn. I saw how he adjusted at the last minute and avoided a crash with my face. I could feel the brush of wing go past the side of my face. 

No shortage of greens this springtime -only toilet paper.

I wondered if he was mate to the female cardinal who started a nest, between some branches in my back yard tree yesterday. She inserted a piece of white plastic, 3” by 1”and just left it there. Her mate was very near to her at the time and another male on the branches lower down. The wind blew the plastic down and away before long. The tree is leafing out and so lovely in its pale green coat. No sign of the cardinal follow up at that nest site, at this time. 

As we got into our stride with the exercises, I heard a questionable noise on my tin roof over the porch. Then a squrrill, stuck a head over the gutters and proceeded to squeeze itself into that small hole and go into the crawl apace over my front porch. 

Exercisers on Dublin Castle Grounds

This event happened very suddenly and I started to scream. I was out on the lawn and had a good view back to where this happened. I could not help myself and my co exercisers were shocked at the noise I created. What I suspected has come about. 

Every morning as I sleep near the roof in my attic, on the other side of the house, I hear a squirrel on my roof, same time each morning, about sunrise, as he/she makes their way across my roof. It is distinct footsteps. If I am awake enough I scream up at them to be gone or I rap on the rafters and or clap my hands. It causes the squirrel to pause but not to change the behavior. 

The Scream

This happened before and a few hundred dollars later, we did not capture the squrrill but blocked up all the possible spots the squrrils can get in, on that part of the house, after we were sure we would not lock him/her in the roof space.

As we continued with the exercises, I am usually consulted about whether or if we have done two or three of “Upholding the heavens.” But I was distracted by the squirrel feelings and was not able to say but said anyway we still had another one to do, even though I did not know in the moment. Our fearless leader said that “Rose is in bad humor.” 

I so wanted to say something back, to say a lot and as we continued, I found about three other things she said to me in the past and distant past and was lining them up bullet style to fling her way. I was just a little restrained by the other person, as she will not put up with many comments in the middle of our sacred chi increasing moves. 

I did caution myself, ask myself if this would benefit anyone, and even through I agreed with my higher self that it would not, my lower self continued with the formulation of something that I could launch against her. 

The tree that looks like two elephants
It is in Hill N Dale Park in Harrisonburg

Luckily, for us both, I was now feeling the effects of the chi in my body and began to get in control of my thoughts, my ideas and said nothing. I was so glad as it gave her a chance to share with us some exciting news that involved a motor bike. She was having a marvelous time going up and down the valley in the fine weather. 

A little shadow man came out in a woman’s dream recently – we had fun discussing the possibilities of how it operates in her life and we found lots of ideas.

So I will conclude and leave you with an image from a dream, in which the shadow animus, is observed escaping, not controlled, and ready to cause as much mayhem as he can. We have to always be checking in on our opinions so that the shadow part of us does not get away with being mean and punitive whenever it can. 

The roots of this tree are reaching around

Happy dreaming. Reach around into your unconscious. I am using Doxy.me and Zoom to continue with my counseling practice. It helps me reach around the quarentine.

I prefer to do my counseling in person but we all are having to make some sacrifices. Please sign up for my blog and it will come to you each time I write. I look forward to your likes and comments and to your increasing the numbers that read my musings. Love you Rose.

In Christ Church Cathedral with my sister Frances, who has retired to Dublin.
Windows and woodwork were fantastic.
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Glendalough in Ireland

I am back a full week from Ireland and feel very lucky to have gotten in under the wire of being blocked for five hours at the airport. I walked through without any hitch. The sign on the local church informed me it was not luck but that I was blessed.

Trains and boats and planes – and escalators

I was carrying back to USA an old watercolor painting I had painted of my parents in the nineties. It was of them being sweet to each other and I managed to loose it somewhere at the Dulles Airport. I did not want to bend it, so I was carrying it separate in a pink plastic bag. I emailed the airport about it but it did not make it into lost property. I am not expecting to find it again.

Water color pencils – not of my parents,

Loosing the painting is symbolic of letting go of my parents in some deep way. It felt like a distancing of some kind, a letting go of the past. It comes with some tears but also grateful for having had Ireland as my motherland. I appreciated the warmth and the good food prepared for me in the home place. I wish I had carved out more time to be there in the midlands of Ireland, this time around.  

Selfie taken in my sister’s house in Dublin. We did some art together most mornings – She creates what she calls cat doodles, as seen behind me.

I do feel blessed to be back, wanting to kiss the ground in Virginia. They laughed at me at work saying that if I kissed the ground in Dulles surely I would pick up the virus. I am a little longer in America than in Ireland at this point in my life.

From the yard, early crocus from the ground in Virginia

Many beautiful things happened in Ireland, meeting family, a reunion and visiting two sites, one holy and one secular.  I also unexpectedly ran into two people I had known over forty years ago, with whom I had shared a “yoga” house, for a few years. Brendan and Shiobhan hugged me soundly and Brendan told me he still meditates. 

Unexpected meeting from long time ago – Brendan still meditates

I visited Glendalough, the “glen of the two lakes.” It is a monastic site complete with two round towers. Saint Kevin was the monk that created a special stone bed on the side of the mountain, overlooking the upper lake. I wanted to visit the bed but it was not too clear how I might do that, and walking a lot is not an option for me now. 

Siobhan and I lived in the same house many years ago. It was such a pleasure to hear my name being called by her.

I had to be content with focusing on the river that ran three feet deep and came from the lake and ran along by the road at times. I separated myself from the family for a bit citing inability to walk any further and went off the road and down to the mossy bank and dropped down into the water. This river was cold like the ones in Virginia I visit but was bearable. 

Saint Kevin’s River

I held on to a tree but was not dragged in any way and said my prayers and hopefully let go of my sins with the help of Saint Kevin. I sat on a cold wet mossy rock to get my breath and redress. This was a spa treatment of a different type.

Where I got into the river – with the help o;f the mossy tree.

Since I came back I was reading that Saint Kevin was followed by a lovely, lonely maiden to his cave.  He was so mad at her, it is reported in a ballad, that he flung her into the lake. The Moore ballad said she was shocked at his reaction to her as was I. It also said she was drowned in the lake.

Perhaps Saint Kevin’s maiden did not look as good as King David’s girl.

As our little car went over Wicklow Gap toward Glendalough, it was rainy and sunshiney at the same time. As I looked out my window into the Valley below, a beautiful rainbow stretched out before me like the hand of God. It left an impression on me of the colors of blue and violet. It was a fleeting moment, as we rushed along between hedges blocking my view intermittently into the Valley.

Wicklow Mountains in the background.

Back home in Virginia, I am greeted by lovely weather. It is the week of the solstice, where our part of the earth tilts toward the sun again. I went to the river in Rawley Springs and enjoyed the water. I got in a number of times as well as climbing up a steep incline to where the great rectangular rocks hang. It was quiet and sunny and the rocks were warm. 

The rocks near Rawley Springs have wonderful colors on them

Climbing up can be hard. I acquired two walking sticks, left there by other climbers, which helped a lot. I was at a loss as to where to put my car key and put the ring in my mouth to hold on to it. This proved very unreliable and I saw my key fall and start rolling straight down toward the river. 

I was blessed again, as it stopped just within reach, stopped by a l little hemlock sappling. After that I caught it in the strap of my sandal and secured the end of the key under another strap. My hands were free and I was bent on finding the upper path, which was a good bit safer and less steep. 

Water reflecting the sky above

First time I got into the water I went up to my waist. The second time I went in up to my neck and finally I dove in on the third go around to get my hair and head under. Getting into water always has the feeling of baptism. I also dropped into the water  thirteen times, up and down quickly. I think I learned that that was a practice in some eastern religion. I copy where I can in the hopes of my soul being cleaned up some more in this life. 

Jesus seemed to like the water too – someone holding a towel for him.

I am cleaning up my house and rearranging things in the hope that this outer cleaning, spring cleaning, will bring me into someplace new, some inner place so I can see the seven chakras within as well as ride along on the rainbow colors that we all have emanating in all kind of directions from within ourselves, right under our own noses. Love from Rose.

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Forgiveness as Wishing Well and not Judging

One New Yorker spoke of his heritage. His father’s people were killed in a Pogrom and his mother’s people were sent to concentration camps. We had a moment talking about what this is like. It was beyond words. I told him I have been working on forgiveness and he was certain “no way” in his case.  He put his hand up in the air and looked back over his shoulder as he looked into the past of these atrocities. 

Door to forgiveness

In my anger management group there is a unit on forgiveness and I felt I needed to rewrite the whole thing. I found an article in Venture Inward (Edgar Cayce magazine) on The Practice of Forgiveness (Written by Jennifer Hadley) in the last year. Her advice on how to forgive is particularly useful. I adapted it into my ideas below.

The practice of forgiveness adapted by Rose to a particular situation.

I found someone to be mad at, who refused to acknowledge me because I refused to discuss some current political issues. I was insulting to him about his always talking. I was in fairly close proximity to this person and felt the presence of this conflict for a few days – a well felt intense energy.  I half-heartedly prayed about it but gossiped just as often to who ever would listen to me. 

Image from Chester Beatty Library in Dublin, Ireland.
Another door from an ancient manuscript.

I was growing my own weeds relating to this whole thing. I watered them with my emotions and fired them with the heat of my anger. I grew them in the darkness of my nighttime musings. I aired them with my associates whenever I could. This is a poor use of the energy through my four lower chakras.

I got good advice to “just let it be” and “pass no remarks”  and “I am glad you shut him up for once.” But this is not forgiveness. Over time I will not be angry, as I get on with my busy life, but I will be haunted by the little episode any time I am triggered into remembering.

I did not get over the grudge, and was not able to stop putting my life force and my thoughts into the whole episode. 

The lower door into a round tower in the GlendaLough in Wicklow Ireland.

Jennifer Hadley says that Love is the only healer and that “True forgiveness is when we are willing to stop judging the people and the situation.” And “True forgiveness is the release of the meaning we have made of things, releasing our attachments to our interpretation.”

At this juncture of writing, I joined my fellow church goers in spirit for the ten o’clock service, due to social distancing, as I had travelled recently and was advised to play it safe and not go to church. Then I went outside to meditated in the fresh air. The birds were very vocal, the street busy and my neighbor’s dog started barking inside next door. He only threw himself at the window once during his barking. I got cold and after twenty minutes went inside. 

A dog in a doorway at Glendalough Monastic Site in Co Wicklow.

During all this time I tried to make myself let go of the dog barking, going back to my practice. I kept making an attempt to connect to God in a way that acknowledges I do not have a clue and cannot approach God with my rational mind. Later I sent love out to my readers and forgot to send it to my person that was still wandering around in my thoughts in a negative way. I did feel into the need to forgive myself for my words and for my mistake, upsetting the other. I think that helped.

Jesus’ baptism – getting cleaned up for his mission on earth – golden bird descending

My resentment is that I was treated “that way” and my regret is that I was not able to gain the upper hand in the situation.

A river that flows out of the Glendalough lakes in Wicklow.
I had a quick dip to help with some forgiveness.

If I fall into the idea that he is the same as me, has the soul needing saving the same as me, and that he needs and deserves love as much as I, that would be me changing my interpretation. The advice from Hadley gives us is to go into our hearts and say “I do not want to judge this anymore.” We can get into the door and go into the heart through our dreams, prayers and meditation.

High and low doors on the Round Tower. Crows had taken up residence on the higher up doors. From Glendalough, Co Wicklow.

I had a dream once of my father, after his death, coming to me to say “We are all the same.” If I am interested in maintaining the idea that I am all good and he is all bad, that I am all right and he is all wrong, then I am not interested in the truth that will make me free.

Lack of forgiveness can turns things upside down

The other recent dream that wakes me up about my negative thoughts is one of a rat coming through my roof into my arms. I am again trying to control this wild animal and he goes for my right groin. The dream gave me pause. It caused me to meditate and pray more diligently, more focused so I could be free and the naked truth of my thoughts could be changed.

The naked Bethsheeba with King David taking a peek from upper left hand corner. She has golden hair. He intends to kill her husband.

This whole episode falls into place when I keep going after having peace about the situation, through my meditation, through prayer, chanting and through asking for help. Eventually I see that everything comes my way for my learning, to not judge myself and to not judge the other, to love myself and to love the other, to wish him well and wish myself well by doing this inner work that I have embarked on. I have no cause to interfere with anything he chooses to do to me, that is outside of my control and that is karma. I have the option to pray for his soul and leave it at that.

Love from Rose.

In County Wicklow, Ireland

PS: Please sign up for an e-mail. Please pray for me as I pray for you. We both will be the better able to be helpful to others and to practice forgiveness seventy times seven. 

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Ashes on Ash Wednesday

Mandala with oil pastels

I went into the catholic church on Ash Wednesday, on  a whim. I saw a big crowd leaving and found out that I was in time to go to the Spanish Mass, having missed the English one. When I went inside I though I was in the Cathedral in Guetamala, with no white people there except myself. There were very young families sitting together, with five of six children from 6 months and younger all the way up to late teens.  The main church was already filled up and I was directed into the old church adjoining through a wide passage way. There was a big tv on the wall and I could see the priest in the distance both on the tv and through the church entrance. There were singers and instrument players, with good music and voices in Spanish. 

On my way to Mass

I know the form but did not understand the language. I was content to be there, as if I was led into the space. I had no prior plan to go, yet there I was at 7.30pm. I felt warm inside, both literally and figuratively.

The ashes was organized. “Remember man thou art but dust and into dust thou shalt return” were the words I heard when I was a child. It seemed the words in spanish were shorter. The ashes was wet and a very distinct cross was made on each person’s forhead in a dark gray. Somehow the centers of those crosses looked white. 

Then it came time for the consecration of the mass proper. I have been wondering how Jesus fits into this whole spiritual journey. My mother was so into Jesus, through Jesus to God. My bible study is the same speaking of protection through the spilt blood of Jesus. I also know a healer woman who talks to Jesus all the time as she goes about her work. 

My version is that Jesus was a special man. He had many past lives and had grown as a soul to the point where he agreed, wanted, to save us all, which many think he did. He shows us the way to be connected to the Father and told us expressly, that  because he made his connection with the father, now we can too. And for good measure he returned to the Christ Spirit, to being a spirit man, one with the Father. So in that sense he became a son of God, and as a son got back all the privileges he had as a soul, before the foundation of the world, which included all the miracle making and ability to ascend, heal the sick and raise the dead.

My job is not to be a Jesus, but to follow my way, what I came here to do, to link up with Father, and find that secret way, that is threaded out to me as I walk the pilgrimage that is my life. I can step off the path any time and go back on also, asking for forgiveness, asking to be taken back in. Will this life bring transformation, will I ascend? I honestly do not know and expect to live and die like others. Because Jesus made the grade, then he broke up the barriers and many more can get through to a true spiritual state. It is all there in the gospels if you want to ferrit it out. The old testament has it too. 

When Jesus said that “This is my body and this is my blood given up for you since the foundation of the world” was he saying that he found a way to sacrifice his own wishes, his own body and blood, his earthly being, physical body, literally and figuratively, in favor of what he had agreed with the Father to do. This is what brings the transformation. 

And as I sat there, on my little hard seat, in the back of the back, watching as the tv lost its signal, I peered through the openway and thought that Jesus was on the alter, dresses as the priest. These Spanish speaking people were there for the hour and a half and I think they brought in this vision for me, to help me understand, to give me a genuine experience of what is possible through these rituals. “Do this in memory of me” took on new meaning for me.  

The mass was in Spanish and when the priest told his sermon, he made his congregants laugh genuinely. When they shook hands with me they were full of smiles and friendly. 

I drank the blood and ate the body, and did  it in memory of Jesus, the Master.

The Cayce reading say that Jesus is the pattern, and that that pattern is available to us through doing as he says, being in the fruits of the spirit, listening to our dreams, caring for our bodies, watching our mental musings and meditating into a link to our Father which is always only a meditation away. Start the journey and more will be given. 

I made up a new song to the Father “My Father, from where I come from.” I am linking into who I am before time began, before the foundation of the world. Will I be able to give up my body and my blood in favor of the spirit that is mine from the foundation of the world. 

I find joy in my work of this writing and in my work with dreams. I hope wisdom comes to me to help me in this way. I will continue with the meditaion I do and I am feeling how connected it makes me feel and I am open to experiences what come my way, in churches, with people, in nature, alone at night meditating.

Love from Rose
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I Am Sending You Light

I came across a second hand book called Atlantis, which was written by Edgar Cayce’s son, Edgar Evan Cayce. The message for me in that book is that the divisions between two factions, was so great, that it ended up in the continent sinking, about 10,000 years ago. 

An art piece commissioned for the Met – not Atlantis

Cayce was fond of saying that the same people are here on the earth again to face what they did not face them, to find a way to get past the two factions and become one in an united country. Both sides think they are right, and that it gives them leave to soundly hate the other. 

In New York, I visited with my sister’s friends and solicited dreams and talked about other spiritual stuff. One group had strong Irish connections and dreams of returning to Ireland. One woman said she had a great connection to the spiritual through attending “latin” mass daily. 

Myself and the sister in New York

Often, in the middle of eating the food, people want to pound on their least favorite political person, even if they have a wonderful spiritual connection, through their spiritual practice. As we were eating lunch, I took up a piece of fair colored white loaf from the basket and placed it on the table and said that was their favorite person to badmouth. “Well how should I deal with that person.” she asked. 

I am sending you light.

I said that she should go to her mass(or what ever spiritual practice you have) and when she feels she has raised the energy, fallen into the stream of love and peace, she would send that light energy to surround that person and that is a way to love your enemy, probably the only way forward. 

Children of the Law of One versus the Sons of Belial

I have always had this practice for the last fifty years, when I first learned about meditation (Edgar Cayce style). I routinely prayed for the “Leaders of Nations.” I have some favorite leaders but scatter the light at them all at this time. 

His headdress is composed of seven heads – at the Met

This act of surrounding a person with the light is different from sending the light directly to them. If a person has asked you for this support you can do that but if you are just concerned about a person, some one caught in substance abuse, for instance, then you can surround them with the light. 

Could be caught up in something

I had occasion to interact with someone whose alcohol level was high and I had to act gingerly with him.  He might be some one I would surround with the light.  The idea is that when you surround your political person or the person close to you with the light, it is like a light that shows them up and then others, that can help them, or need to see them aright will see them. You let go of your own judgments and let the light do the work for you. Cayce likened it to a car, under a street lamp. That light sent out protects you too.  

The train coming around the corner at full speed and putting the brakes on made the platform shake under my feet – I love trains.

So after my visit to the Big Apple, I had a nightmare dream complete with a horse, who is determined to run me down. I see the big cedar tree of my childhood and run toward that but I am too far away to make it on time. As I hear the thundering hooves, I turn and put up my arm against the horse and then the horse veers off to one side. 

Cattle seldom wish to enter a pen voluntarily

Something similar happened when I was a child and was charged with getting the large steers to go in a certain direction.  Shouting and waving arms was encouraged, even if it did not always work. The whole family was expected to play the game of getting the steers into a pen; something the leader of the pack was not so keen on. The animals were full of energy, grazing on green grass and with a river at the far end for water. They seemed to always love getting away from us and galloping all the way down to the river. We usually were successful the second time around with them. 

Horse complete with short legs and spinning mandala on flank, human hair on his head and tail and short legs.

In my dream the chasing by the horse happened a few times and I woke up to this. The added complication to this is that when I first saw this horse it had very short legs but had normal legs when it was chasing me. 

This could be a unicorn, as it has a form on its head – those kids were creative.

There is a paper horse at my house that was made by one of my daughters when they were pretty young. I was too busy to be helpful, so when the horses were done, the legs on them were very short. The younger child cried that it did not look like a horse at all. I said it was a fine horse and the tears were dried. 

Invoking protection is always a good idea.

Horses appear in Revelation and they are connected to the four lower chakras per Edgar Cayce interpretations. However if they are not normal horses, have queer legs, look semi human in some way, they are difficult energies from the unconscious. The dream makes me be more careful with my prayers of protection especially when dealing with someone who is over the legal limit by two times. The dream caused me to use mantra to help clear out my energies so such a horse cannot get to me. Turning and facing my own unconscious energies and myself is always a good thing. 

Another beautiful day in the Burg here, sunshine and close to 60 degrees.  It is great to sit out, do some Qigong with Elizabeth Scott on my front porch and continue on now with completing this blog. I got one message from the street while I wrote; 

Art from a station in Brooklyn – with evening sun shining through

Two girls walking by, one saying “But he is definitely shooting himself in the foot.” They were the only words that came into my ears from them, having a little reference to my dream through the feet. Love from Rose.

Ps: You can sign up for my blog if you like such writings. I look forward to your comments etc. Thanks for reading. I promise to always pray for my readers and I sometimes do. 

A windy snowy wintery day a few weeks ago. – We are have better than average weather this month.
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Our Own Prayer Wheels

Silver Lake and the Prayer Wheel.

From the dream world

I went to Silver Lake again to hear the falling of water, dropping down ten feet and not touching anything on its way to hear the splash at the bottom. It is where the water is diverted away from the wheel.

That mill wheel reminds me of the huge prayer wheels in Tibet. Maybe the owner of the mill wheel will see fit to put it back in order, not to grind the gains but to remind us of the prayer wheels in our selves that need to be sent to turning again, and by turning, turning we come around right.

In Tibet those wooden wheels make a huge noise and could be pushed easily enough by me as I circled them and prayed. I took time out to go around and around, the girth of which was probably twenty feet each or more. Two were set side by side. I can still see and feel the place now easily. There were lots of red and gold colors there. Gods and Goddesses were set in the corners. The temple housed the wheels. The doors and the gates were open.

This image was on display in Richmond Gallery

Let me be a Servant Too.Being a servant is what makes things sacred. In meditation you can make that commitment. Then everything can be approached with this nod to being a servant to God. Relationships with everyone will bend to this commitment. You may have to accept what comes you way, knowing you are a servant wherever you find yourself. Relationship with that special other person puts you in the position of being a servant to the soul of the other person, bringing out the best through attitudes and activities.

At the Spa

I went to the Korean Spa with three younger women to celebrate Chinese New Year and a birthday. We had a lovely time going in and out of the cold and hot offerings.

I liked the hot rooms followed by the icy room at forty degrees, and I liked the steam room and or the sauna followed by the 60-degree cold tub.  

The hot rooms had such names as charcoal room, amethyst room, clay ball room, etc. These rooms ranged in temperature from 120 degrees to 168 degrees. These treatments have a way of reducing inflammation and pain and I appreciates the rest and break this kind of activity affords my body.

There is a lovely echo in the steam room and I sang a chant and the three girls did harmonies. They left too soon, saying they were too hot, and I was happy for the connection to heaven there in the misty room, however brief.

Chanting and Enchanted

I have been singing to my hearts content. I am playing with the singing to “Our Father” except I have changed it to “My Father” and tacked on the phrase “from where I come from.” It makes the foundation from where I come more personal. I am addressing that “I am” from where I have my original origins, both outside and inside of me. This centers me in my efforts to be pulled into my spiritual place, to be kept in the Way, to get to ride the streams of love and light that are there for the taking, as I find my way.

Bone Dreaming and Breathing

It was the fifth anniversary of the death of my youngest sister Mary last month. I got some of her cds and one of them was about bone breathing. It was strange to listen to this cd that she must have listened to a lot, as it is worn in places. The voice of the person speaking in English in a heavy accent has you breath into your bones, expand them and let them float and drop them. No bones in the body were spared. It was very relaxing. However I had to shake off the association to my sister who died from cancer, the nasty type that grew into her brain. My irrational fears receded as I went deeper and I know Mary is where she is supposed to be.

News from Harrisonburg: I was thankful to see a murder of crows on Saturday. They flew over as I was writing on the porch. When they wheeled over again I jumped up and glimpsed the majestic hawk among them. I knew there was murder on the crows’ minds from the sounds they were making. I take my entertainment where I can these days. 

Other News from Harrisonburg: The corner house across from me runs high with party time through the weekend. Two big vehicles let a number of young men and a girl out to go into the house. The girl, dressed in blue jeans and high heels and with thick blonde falling hair, decided to stand in the center of Sterling Street, facing the oncoming cars and yells “Run me over.” Her arms were outstretched and she looked so well put together. A cautious driver slowed to a stop. And then she let him go. I hope she is not run over in any way. 

Parcels on the Porch. I had an unexpected parcel on the porch addressed to someone else. I see a telephone number and call. It is the mother of one of the boys living in the frat house across the road. She was sending her son something from Apple. The box was very light, as I had been shaking this to see what I could not see. She said she had also sent a box of food to him. When her son came to collect that first box, he was so young looking. Later I laughed to myself as I now have the telephone number of a mother of one of the boys across the road on my phone. I said hello to the boy and he gave me a sheepish look. I may know a little too much about him for his liking. 

She was a little rowdy on the street

Birthday. I had some texts from my lovely grown children today, ahead of the actual birthday. I have a massage and a Kundalini Yoga Class scheduled as well as some Meditation in a group in the morning. I went to eat out in the evening with some special friends who included me in there celebrations. 

May the next year of our lives be filled with intuitions from creative helpful dreams that flow to us like the water in the Virginia Streams, not just carrying the water, not just carrying the Life in the water but also carrying the Water of Life to us. Love from Rose.

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Healing Dreams and Creative Writing

We are at the door that is pretending to be a door. So we left that door and found the round door into the unconscious. 

A bonsai tree put out some leave last week at beginning of February. It was so fun to see them emerge.

All seven of us met and I must have mentioned my pains and aches or we read something about healing that inspired Sherrie to say that she had healing Oil upstairs. Than there was a plan that I should sit on a chair in the middle and they, all seven of them, would pray over me in different ways to heal me and to fill my life with blessing. 

One woman held my knees, and asked if it was my knees that needed the healing. I said “No” that it was my hands, shoulders, fingers, knees and toes, not to mention my back, hips and all the other bones. We laughed a little as the others put hands on my shoulders and on my head and got started. 

I was surrounded by seven.

Earlier in this Bible Study, we talked about asking for healing and that fine point of letting God do the work as opposed to getting into a demanding mode. There is the promise that the Father does hear when the children ask. 

The oil was put on my forehead in the shape of a cross by the retired preacher. He said most of the prayers and his wife also. As they prayed I prayed for the gift of remembering the presence before I counsel anyone.

Mandala with oil pastels

We went out separate ways and that night I has a sense of being told what to do to relieve the suffering and I felt very pleased to be blessed in this way and to be under the wand of Jesus through the seven.

Lines Composed Above the River 2 

A vine wrapped around an iron railing above the waterfall at Silver Lake.

As he danced along behind the Golden Angel, he was held by an invisible cord anchored to him, drawing him away, drawing him out of his every way and into everlasting. She felt more than saw his blindness to her as the vines had grown up and encircled her upside down body hanging there in the foliage by the river. She was no longer hanging dry, but held in the vines looping over the water, hanging her down into the pure crystal stream in full flood from the rains. The water of life surrounded her in its blue power. 

A pink rock in the river. The sky is reflected in the water on the bottom right.

When she looked up through the water, she sees a young woman with long brown hair standing over her concentrating on her forehead with her wand of hazel and her stick of almond, going through her forehead, eking out the hexagonal, rotating her. She sees the white light, six sided in her forehead, surrounded by violet light on all sides, as she watched the woman work her wands, shimmering through the water that lay between them. 

The shimmer in the water

To go no more out, to sit in the light of it about her, freeing her heart, she could hear the clicking of her head wheels into place, clicking as the water dropped, she lay the side of her head and face on the water to better to hear behind the door of it, to better find the words, to better feel the embrace of her Lord, to better hear him say “My Child.” To better bow and say “My Lord.” 

First Dandelion discovered in late January in Hill and Dale Park in Harrisonburg.

A Dream of Doors

She dreamed of the doors. She was in her wooden room. She ran to the door that was not a door and slumped in the corner. Could she go no more out? Then she approached the other door. She tackled the doorknob with her bent fingers. But it’s pretense reverberated up her bones. Then she stood and stared before tackling the wall of wood but it knew no bending out of shape to her size to let her out. She wept bitter tears. She was ready to leave. Then she heard a voice say “my child.” She looked up to see her lord there with outstretched hand before a door that was not a door. Above it was the pyramid of boards in hexagonal shape. She was free to leave her coffin. She follows his light of whiteness and violet sprinkling before his sandaled feet. He brought her to the foot of the mountain by the seven deep watering places. All the voices left her and went up above the ravine that was cut by the river. They sat in the rustling leaves and the silence descended. She was held in an embrace of love and in love with the water of life rushing past them. 

Is it a door?

Lovely Weather 

The weather last Monday was in the sixties. Rawley springs beckoned and I spent some time there enjoying the lovely weather, with many others enjoying the  warm breeze around the river. I had a brief foray into the water and my feet stayed above the temperature of getting numb. There was a red four door trucks there with all four doors open and the driver in the bed of the truck fiddling with fishing tackle. There were other trucks left there while their owners were off hiking. Then there was a little blue truck, the owner of which said he was there to find a note lift by his girlfriend. It was a great day for fun and games. I continued my painting and writing. 

Silver Lake last Sunday – sunny and breezy.

A Wish for You.

I hope your dreams are many. I hope you are recording them and talking to the characters that people them in order to know you the better. I hope they help you understand your mood and your shadow side. I hope you are drawing mandalas with oil pastels and putting some semblance of the unconscious out before you for consideration. 

The wind is always trying to mess with my hair.

If you wish to get some help with this do not hesitate to come see me at my home office, where the mystery of your dreams can be considered, where your instincts can be held, as well as that which you were cut out to achieve in this life here on this little blue globe. Love from Rose.

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