Religions Ritual

Holy Communion, the Host, is part of the ritual of Rose’s mother religion. She partook of this communion from the age of six, when she received her First Holy Communion, in a white dress and veil and white handbag. She had the little prayer book and white rosary beads and a shilling, given to her by her father. He was  wearing a blue cardigan, some squared on it and he was tall to her height and he put the shilling on the end of his outreached fingers and smiled at her as she reached for this unknown lucre, knowing it meant love to her rather than the coin of the realm.

Rose is happy with her shilling

 Her First Communion was preceded by her first confession, held in the church, in the confessional box, on a school day, awaited with great anticipation by a nervous school teacher. The priest came when he pleased and Rose and her class mates were ready. They had to come up with their own sins. Her teacher did a run through with her little charges, so there would be no hitch with the priest. Rose’s first little sins were hunted down and were made ready to be furled at the priest.

Figuring out sin at age six was not easy

She said “Bless me Father for I have sinned.” The priest, on the other side of the small screen, received her whispered words. She was standing up on her tippy toes in order to see and hear him, the outline of his lips and nose just visible, in the almost dark confessional box. Her penance was to say three Hail Maries which was almost impossible to do, paying attention to counting and saying Hail Maries at the same time. It took a while to be sure it was all done. Walking up to receive her first communion in front of a full church was daunting but she was in the first row, pure white inside and out, with her teacher at hand and strict instruction to swallow the communion and not chew it. 

The teacher and the priest

With the dream of stepping into the host, the host symbology, has brought Rose to a different energetic awareness. Her understanding is a reference to that light of the heart area, big and round, when filled up by God in Meditation. If she evokes this holy communion of Christ, Jesus, then she had something to give within the babble, bubble of her life. It is the “Our Father’s” will to give us this pouring down into the Heart Area. We have to receive the light, with the emphasis on the “receive.” Slow down and be still. A falling down feeling into love.

Looking at dreams from both sides.

Now she sees it more clearly, as the white energy in her, connecting her to the heavens and to the earth. The words from the “Our Father” are; “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” in the higher chakras as in the lower chakras and scattered all through the body, like stars furled all through the firmament, an image/feeling that came to her in a recent meditation.

These are redhead and canvas back ducks on the lake in Dayton, attracted by the open water and springs underneath when much other water was frozen.

Dayton Lake is becoming her own local holy place. When she went out there recently on a fine Sunday she had the idea of get into that water of course. It was a cooler day, some wind. She parked her car and saw a couple watching the lake with their binocular, as there was a host of ducks not usually on the lake, to be seen. Rose asked if she could have a look through the binoculars. The canvas back ducks were especially lovely, white mostly and red brick colored heads. There were a few redheads as well and a flock of golden eye ducks on the other side of the lake. She looked them up in her National Audubon Society book about birds and it was amazing to read the little details about them. They are such a treasure and while getting scarser due to the removal of their marshes that they need to breed, they can be seen still by Rose on the little local Silver Lake. 

Mole Hill and Silver Lake in Dayton Virginia and Rose contemplating the waterfall in front of her.

Rose found out the ducks were feeding near where the lake spring comes up and that it is twenty feet deep there. It is close to the foot of Mole hill and Rose could not help but wonder if this water had been filtered through the volcanic hill of black basaltic rock, making it more special for dipping into. The lake may look shallow but it has its wonderful own third eye, pouring forth clean water. Most of the green algae like strings have left the lake now and it seams cleaner in the coolness of the winter weather. When Rose was in a meditative mood one night she was drawn into this spring of holy water being given up from the depth of Silver Lake.

Lady of the Lake

I had a dream of coming to the edge of a cliff and I am carrying three bags. I propose to climb down, but am facing the wrong way. There are iron foot holds. After this dream I was waiting for something to happen and it did . I slipped enough to hurt my left knee, which swelled and rendered my prone for most of the weekend. I can see that I am facing “the wrong way” and carrying too much from this dream.

I read a few random passages from the Bible and I got the impression from all of this that God had little patience with doing things without the fast and well-held hand of God in it. I will slow down enough to read the Holy Book of my Christian religion and see if I can turn around. It involves slowing down enough to be still, to paint and to rest and to be in the right bag of attitude. The burden to these bags are so light and easy then. 

Traveling without any bags

And if you want to work on your own bags of stuff, be sure to ask me for one of my books of Dream Leaflets, where there is a chance to write and to draw your dreams. I look forward to hearing from you. 

If you like the above please click the like buttons and I always love your comments. I am a licensed professional counselor in Virginia and can be found on Psychology Today where you can read all about my qualifications. Love from Rose.

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Blossoms Pink and White

Happy Valentine’s Day

My father was elected to drive my great grandmother’s car and it was kept at our house. It was a black ford. I remember standing behind the front seat and looking over my grandmother’s mink stole as we rode along. It tickled my nose and the feel of it was soft to the hand. The stole had two little mink heads joined in the middle and they could be a bit frightening at first until we got used to them, with their glassy eyes. The sole reason my father was given this car is that great-grandmother could no longer climb up into the horse and trap to go to Mass. She wanted him to show up on Sunday, at her house, three miles from my father’s house, and carry her to mass so she could go to Heaven when she died. 

Great Grandmother road a horse when she was a young woman. Above Photo taken in Dayton Virginia.

She had two sons in the priesthood, Father Bernie and Father Tommy, a fact that pretty much guaranteed her getting into Heaven. They both came to see her on her deathbed and she told them the Virgin Mary was at the end of the bed, taking her over, as she left this world, heaven bound. She said rosaries almost continuously when she was sitting beside the fire from aged sixty to aged ninety. She got arthritis and decided to retire to the fireside at age sixty. She deserved this rest as she had singly handedly raised seven children and also ran the farm.

She wore black clothes and was a petit old lady. After mail started to be delivered to her house, she would have it put in one of the sheds, where a great horde of paper accumulated, according to one of my older sisters, who visited when great grandmother was alive. Moddy told my mother that she would have a boy with the next pregnancy and after four girls my mother and father were happy that she proved accurate. 

She saw a great light of the Virgin Mary at the end of her bed.

I remember being at Moddy’s house, at age four or five, in the years immediately before her passing over. She would get myself and my younger sister to come and be with her, at her knee. She would have us say the prayers with her, kissing the cross at the beginning. My sister and I had sat in the soup of my mother’s prayers since being in the womb.  We probably babbled the “Hail Mary” from the age we were learning to talk. 

I have a springtime memory of being in Moddy’s house sitting at the kitchen table, a tree outside that window, in full blossom bloom, probably an apple tree. My sister and I had had a bath and out little faces were pink and white like the blossoms outside.   On the table was two plates loaded up with apply pie, the kind that has secret ingredients straight from heaven, lemon tones, apples from the garden of paradise, honey sugar dripping thickly around the pie. It was surely overseen by God and his wife. Phyllis Maxwell did the hard work, a beautiful young woman whom we watched with the long glass green bottle used to roll out the pastry. She wore a print white dress with apple blossoms on it and her sleeves rolled up. She worked fast scattering flour around to prevent any sticking.

The apple pie

Our little blue eyes imparted our own magic into the dough. We were given a little piece of dough each to play with and our creations were put on top of the pie, as the apple blossom adornment. Phyllis put a large scoop of whipped cream on top of the hot cooked pie and we tucked in to this something, making us round and pink and white, under our two bent over the pie, curly be-ribboned heads, my sister blonde and I dark brown.  

The Pie Maker

As an older woman, walking or riding a bike on the roads, around by the railway gates, I would go onto this avenue and into the house. The house was used for a shed for cattle by then but it had a lovely yard with some cobblestones and a bridge over a stream. The stairs in the house was still in tact if not the loft to which it led. It was hard to imagine the big family of seven children plus parents living there. There was a statue of “The Child of Prague” in one of the small windows, letting light in. 

The little ones

After many years, it was decided to “get rid of this” beautiful old car from Moddy, with the running board along the side. My father choose a newer looking second hand model. He cast aspersions on this car from the first moment he brought it home to the farm, having bought it with his own good money. Later it let him down by grinding to a halt far from home. I still see that jalopy with my father standing looking into its engine, smelling of burning rubber and some blue smoke coming out of it. I fumed alongside him as he stood with a bewildered look on his face.


I learned to fume at inanimate objects, give them value and to curse them, enraged that that second hand piece of car was not what it was supposed to be. It had the nerve to carry us far from home and to stop and never to go from there again and I learned the treachery of the car that smoked. Later when I had a secondhand yellow car, I treated it with great suspicion at times if the engine light came on or if it made a “noise.” Now if you look carefully, you will see blue smoke swirling around behind my eyes when I get mad. 

I heard some marvelous dreams this week; one was of a man morphing into a pig that was able to knock down a “tower of babble” in his dream. Sometimes it takes fast instinctual energy to take care of business that is not so good. An others came to me with no dreams at all but two mandalas were drawn in session and I was able to use my Mari training to work with the shapes and colors together and to have the client speak of her experiences.

You too can come to work with dreams and mandalas. They make more sense than anything else to me. I am always excited to work with this deep connections between many things including the stream of life that underpins the psychic, the psychoanalytic, the dreams, the unconscious, religious experience and the right side of the brain. Love from Rose. 

ps Like if you do and comment if you Like. Thanks

I can be found on Facebook under Dream Counseling where some parts of this blog appear from time to time.

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Climbing the Mountain

Perhaps there is a woman and man on the moon

Rose thought of Saint Patrick who travelled across Ireland to go up a mountain, The Reek, also called Croagh Patrick. He stayed out there for forty days and nights and had his visions. Surely he was pinned to the mountain as the moon came and went on those forty nights. In the fifth centaury the Christians took their religion seriously, looking for the connections only to be found in aloneness between self and Source/God. There is a direct line between Tara, where he lit the pascal fire and this Mountain on the Atlantic West Coast of Ireland. It crosses the Hill of Uisneach, known in ancient times as the Naval Stone of Ireland.

The naval stone is a standing stone

Rose climbed Croagh Patrick with some of her sisters and her Father and brother. Mary, now deceased, was the one who ran ahead all the time, light on her feet. We left home at 6 am or earlier. Rose can still see her father’s blue eyes close to her face, as he woke her up to get ready to go. They got to the Reek near nine am and started the climb. It was a long hard climb, especially the last bit, as it was all scree and fairly up straight. It was August and steam came off their backs as they climbed that last bit, toward the middle of the day. They had to look out for the people going down as sometimes they started going faster and faster and could not stop. They would have a frantic look on their face as legs went out of control, arms and legs going in all directions. One passed nearby close enough to touch.

There was a cool stiff sea breeze on the top. There were prayers and rosaries to be said, plus confession and Holy Communion, even Mass. Many priests did the climb and signed up for saying mass as part of their climb. Pilgrims knelt down on stony places. Rose and her siblings were treated to a tin cup full of strong sweet tea shared among them, procured by their father from the little gray clad man with the donkey who had such fare for a price.  

Rose’s father liked to make a picnic on the way home and set a fire and made some fresh tea and some sandwiches and variety cakes purchased in Lynam’s Bakery in moat. There was one Rose liked in particular, full of lemon tasting cream in a pastry. A big fluffy one full of cream in the middle, sprinkled with powdered sugar was another favorite. Getting a mouthful from each one was the most that could be done with sharing these treats. The large slice of “plain loaf,” white and spongy covered in homemade rhubarb jam was a welcome meal after the hard hike up the mountain.

Climbing up together

Her father got leg cramps as he drove the “blue Vauxhall” through the stoney somewhat treeless Connemara on the long straight roads between water and bog and rocks. Her father had to stop the car to walk a bit, a time or two, until he got better. He looked very serious, as he walked up and down on the tarmac road for the cramps to subside, ill equipped to fathom the meaning of pain for him as he aged.  He did all the driving. Rose was sleeping on the back seat by then, and as she woke herself up in the silenced car, she looked out the window and observed him in his walk at a slight distance, and she worried for the worried look on his face.  They arrived home a weary bunch but with a memory of that ascension. The mighty ocean in the distance, the waves, the stiff breeze, being higher than anyplace she had ever been before, combined to make her very glad to be home again. 

Those runners were crazy

Rose dreamed she found her earring with the two pearls on it, under a bench, near where a truck stopped in which she had been travelling.  She was so surprised to find the earring there as she had lost it twice lately. The pearls looked big like that eclipsed moon above. She was happy and just for good measure many of her lost gloves were there, as well as a pair that are new, that she likes a lot, and makes big efforts not to loose.  

One glove off and one glove on

She thinks she figured out this dream. It is about Rose as a MacTruck. She does not like them in general, they go fast, stones fly out of them, they spue black smoke etc. So if Rose is in her Mack truck she is in the ego, pushing along, not considering the spirit of things. Then if she get out of this truck she will find the pearls of Great Price, which are under a bench on cement. They need rescuing and she can only do that when she is out of her ego, personality and character and habitual ways, going straight forward where ever the spirit leads.

A naval stone from the Glen in Donegal in Ireland on a misty day

She was pleased to see this. She tried to forget this truck aspect at the beginning but it is the most important message in the dream. She got the interpretation when she pondered it at the beginning of a morning meditation, when she sat with her partner for forty minutes together in silence. As a result of having this dream she is challenging herself before bedtime to observe how she gets into that old Mack truck in herself, by her comments, showing impatience by her blue eyed stare or otherwise ego filled effort to be in control and block out the spirit.

Drawings from the porch

If you have some dreams about lost pearls or trucks, or dreams that bring in the other marvelous symbols of a great blue color, or wearing a straight black wig, then write down three or more and come visit me in my sun filled room. We will see about making straight the old waste places, pay some ransom to grow into other and in the spirit and find ways everlasting. Love from Rose.

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I See the Moon, the Moon sees me.

My version of the moon

The wonderful moon eclipse inspired many people last Sunday night. In spite of it’s lateness, octogenarians and young people alike made a point of looking at it, as it went through it’s phases, all the way to 1.00 am and later. They spoke excitedly of it noting how they got texts from family members to be sure and look at it. 

It was a cold clear night for the most part. I was not too careful about dressing my lower half and just wore my light slippers on my feet. I had the sense to put on a coat and my big shawl on overly pjs and something resembling a hat, which kept falling off my head, when I lay down. My preferred hat, made of soft wool, a balaclava type, was missing in action hiding under a cushion. Even a wall hat did not want to go outside


The man on the moon perhaps

My plan was to get under the (small) electric blanket I keep out on the porch and to lie down and look up from the dry boards of my porch, leaning out of the place I had chosen, as the moon was on a trajectory out of my sight all the time, over the roof, from where I lay.  I moved with it and got closer and closer to falling off the porch. My neck has a little extra tweak in it since that time, but well worth it to see the moon. Even with some wrapping up of myself in that electric blanket and putting another blanket over my feet the wind was very inquisitive and blew on me from all directions. 

I watched that pearly moon, no longer flat but round in shape, as it showed off its luster in the sparkling coldness of that night.  I had intended to meditate but had to keep adjusting those slippery blankets, which fell off of me and off of the porch. I just knew I should be meditating deeply, but old Jack Frost, was determined to keep me in my body by virtue of the cold. I was wide-awake all the time.

Where the dominos fell

The other problem was that when my head was covered well, my eyes could not see the moon for the hair and the lip of the cap too close over my eyes. I just had to keep adjusting. In getting a pillow on a chair I knocked down a big box of Domino bricks and just left them there to freeze like myself. I had left them on a chair to discourage the lovely black cat, Cocoa, from using my electric blanket as a way station, a place to clean his coat, in the sunshine, on those lovely warm days.

Tina was not around outside

There were people on the street and I heard the crunch of their feet on the grass nearby where there is no footpath. I wondered if a possum might stroll by but happily there were no animal visits that I was aware of. Those littler sounds most likely were the wind. That is what I told myself. Stabilizing the blankets around me in a better way, mostly alluded me too.

I watched the eclipse go full tilt from white round pearl into silver dark. It hung there near me, it seemed in its fullness, inviting me to stop and step on to it. It seemed so near. Some myths say that the moon gets filled up with souls who have passed away, and when it is full with those bright light-bearing souls, they all leave for the Many Mansions on the night of the full moon.

Many mansions

As I watched the dark silver moon, I saw a little sliver of golden light on the side of the moon, making it look like a cup turned on its side, light pouring out. As that light got stronger and filled the moon back up with light, there was a blue aura all around the backside of the moon as the sun made the sky around the moon look a dark blue. That blue was just on three sides of the moon. Where the sun started to shine on the moon, the sky was darker.

 When I got up I was astounded at the feeling of heaviness in my body, not unpleasant but noticeable and groundling, connected to light so far far away and feeling the pull of the moon, like a lay line into my heart. 

The moon travelled down to her.

I dreamed I found my lost earring with the two pearls on it, under a bench, near where a truck stopped. I was so surprised to find it there, as I had lost it twice lately, in reality. The pearls looked big like that moon above. I was happy and just for good measure many of my lost gloves were there also.

Feeling a little chilly

I will leave you with some words I wrote after a recent meditation:

I wanted to see the ocean recently but no one would go with me. Then the ocean came to me. With The body as ocean and the place where the tides meet land, in an out, the breath of the sea, ecstasy, Thy breath of me. In my breathing, going down through me, like the tide, in and out at the edge of the ocean, white and blue and green. Water and breeze and sand swishing in and out in the body and breath movement. God in the heartbeat. I am Thou Thee. A great peace and at the ocean. Felt the hands of love at the heart and felt loved, once again with Thee, feelings of delight and beauty, stars flying out of the heart area. Flowing back and forth around the hips and down the legs, feeling all love surrounds me.

Pray for me as I pray for my readers. Like if you do, share if you like and comments are so sweet and great to see. And an hour working with you and your dreams is the biggest gift of all. I am on Psychology Today, where you can find my contact information or on this site as a message. Love from Rose.

She got a little moonlight into her palm, taken while on the Ganges River in Benares at the Festival of Lights.

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The Importance of being in Earnest

An artistic response to exploring who God is in a Bible Study.

Yoga links the eastern and western ideas relating to the spiritual and brings in the whole idea of chakras. Kundalini on the one hand is a force in the body, that travels from the base of the spine to the third eye going through the seven chakras along the way from base to top and on the other hand She, Goddess/God, is the sleeping snake, resting at the base of the spine, rising under certain conditions.  

Red Orange and Yellow are the colors of the lower chakras

The dream symbology, and the dreams of people surprise Rose with the vividness of colors connected to chakras and the movement of energy, sometimes as snake, within the body. There are books connected to Yoga and breathing, linking up with meditation, bringing in the body and getting us out of the head. And there is Rose, practicing meditation daily and paying attention to the body. Sometimes motivated by disease, which gives her a better focus, a better motivation to go within looking for awareness and be in the spine physically as well as metaphysically. She has some great days now.

Blue and greens are included here representing the higher chakras.

Another way for Rose to get out of her head is to go to the Kundalini Yoga class as given by Siri Amrita, at the Center(Icehouse) here in Harrisonburg, where Siri Amrita uses a combination of exercises and breathing /mudras that target chakras. She uses sacred mantras and wraps it all up with songs she chooses. Being moved by familiar songs “Oh Mother hear my prayer” and last night again, as she played a “Hail Mary” song, students are moved to commit to God/Source, and feel the prickle of the tears behind the eyes.  

On a recent trip to Washington to be in a day long meditation. Siri Amrita is second from right with two other attenders. We had a great day.

All the words of one of Siri Amrita’s recent mantras eludes Rose now and Siri Amrita would not want her putting them here, as she feels there is a tuning in and a tuning out process that goes with them and is anxious that this invocation of protection bookend all such spiritual practices.  Rose’s personal bookends are the Our Father to start meditation and The Lord is my Shepherd to end. She often sings them, especially as she ends her practice. Her choices come to her through her mother religion and reinforced by the Edgar Cayce readings. (Edgar 

Joe and I are attending a full moon meditation near Harrisonburg, led by Siri Amrita on lower right.

They particularly appealed to Rose, as she has already had such familiarity with both this opening and ending prayer.  Jesus gave the “Our Father” to his disciples when they asked him how they should pray. The Psalm 93, The Lord is my Shepherd, closes the chakras down at the end of meditation. 

Inner light and outer lights from a little shop in Marrakech

Siri Amrita’s has a start up chant and her finish up song is “May the Long Time Sun Shine upon you.” One of Rose’s friends, christian, asked Rose in alarm what the words meant of the chant in an ancient tongue at the beginning of practice. Rose cannot keep it all straight, but it is addressing Source and ways to be closer with God, just like the Our Father. She just knows that when she sing “May the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you…” she feels she is swimming in an ocean of love at the end of practice. At the end of the class Rose is full of smiles and feels she has turned herself around right.

The blue of the sky and water and the brown of the earth and the white rocks running between. White stones by the River Wayne.

 The imagery from last night’s Monday Kundalini class stays with Rose. There were three images associated with a mantra, that stay fresh in her mind, as an artist. The first connection was to the lower part of her, as in the three lower chakras, the earth of her, by seeing a deep red grey earth color in the area below her heart, down to the root chakra in the lower part of the pelvic basin.  The second connection is the electric blue of the heavens, connecting her to the higher chakras from the heart up through the head, from the throat to the third eye. The third image was in between the throat and the bellybutton, in the heart area. Straddling or connecting the above two colors of rich red gray and electric blue is the white light, in a circle/bubble, in the center, woven into the heart area.  It is the white light energy connected to the heart, is Christ energy. Rose has had the experience of seeing stars flying out in all directions from the heart area.

I am being invited to put my step into the white light but my leg is bent out of shape about it when I had the dream. Green represents the heart.

The above exercise brings Rose back to the dream she had about Siri Amrita, when she gave Rose a huge host and asked her to step into it, no longer the ritual but the living in and the giving out of light.

Holy Communion, the Host, is part of the ritual of Rose’s mother religion. She partook of this communiton from the age of six, when she received her First Holy Communion, in a white dress preceded by her first confession. In boarding school, going to Mass and Holy Communion was a part and parcel of the daily rounds. She continued with the practice in catholic churches in Ireland and in Virginia, until about fifteen years ago or so. With the dream of stepping into it, the host symbology, has brought Rose to a different energetic awareness. Her understanding of that light in the heart area, big and round, and if she evoke this holy communion of Christ, Jesus, then she had something to give within the babble, bubble of her life.It is the “Our Father’s” will to give us this pouring down into the Heart Area. We have to receive the light, with the emphasis on the “receive.”

Some pouring down going on here

Now she sees it more clearly, as the white energy in her, connecting her to the heavens and to the earth. The words from the “Our Father” are; “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” in the higher chakras as in the lower chakras. She is excited to write about this deep connections between many things including the stream of life that underpins the psychic, the psychoanalytic, the dreams, the unconscious, all religions and the right side of the brain bringing in color, experience.

She had a conversation with God recently as to why she is not cured of her pain etc and uses some unholy words like “You were always curing cripples, so why not me.”

She got an answer in her next meditation along the lines of Jesus coming to her and showing her the light in the heart and the light that can be given out from that place where heart light and love reside. It was like Jesus was saying “We have an agreement” relating to this host that is not a ritual but a literal giving out of the energy of Christ/Source/God/Love to others she serves, when she meets them. It is not particularly related to the job but it can be.

Love Rose.

Like if you do, share if you dare, comment if you will, contact me for a counseling session if moved to do so, see my dream counseling Facebook page for inspiration relating to recording dreams and say prayers for me and mine. I am praying for my readers. May you ever be in the arms of the Light filled Beloved.

A deep blue sky behind me.
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Trespasses and Debts

I dream of Father Bernie, my granduncle, a priest, with whom I spent holidays, including long summer holidays, when I was a child and teen. He was my maternal granduncle. He died about fifty years ago. He healed me of a childhood disease when he gave me a bag of red apples to eat, telling me I would get better, when the bag was empty.

A perfect apple

In my dream he is in the confessional, a place to relate sins for forgiveness from God. There is someone on the other side going to confession before me. There is a loose board between Father Bernie and me. He seems to take it down. I had a little time to find something deep to confess. (Waiting for the priest to open the slot and to say his opening prayer, always held a little terror for me as a child.)I have no memory of what I had to confess.

Another mandala, something hiding under the lid waiting to be confessed.

Once upon a time, when I was rearing three children, my mentor wanted me to go to confession to the local catholic priest here, in Harrisonburg, to confess my lack of good attitude toward my husband. I did it by making an appointment with the priest and talking to him. I had good intentions. That was probably the last time I physically did an individual confession with a priest. Maybe my dream is asking me to look again at my attitude within the relationship with my intimate other, the same person I am living with again. Sometimes my attitude can leave something to be desired, especially if I say “Love is My Religion.”

After a dip in the Wayne River. Feeling happy, as water always spells a baptism of sorts for me.

“Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” came to me last week. I connected it to the dream loosely before deciding my dream was about my attitude in particular. This other talk is about the Lord’s Prayer and that part connected to the Solar Plexus, the third Charkra, and the part of the Lord’s Prayer connected to debts.

White stones by the River Wayne.

The sin of forgetting who we are is our real debt to God. We have forgotten our connection to God but God has not. God is the heartbeat in us. When we remember God,  and act out of that certainty, than we can be forgiven all out debts. This remembering brings us to a white stone and on that stone a new name given.

Not that the debts go away that others owe us, but I, remembering who I am with God, need never focus on what is owed to me. God has got me, and that is all I need. The only reason I have people owing me something is because I created other debts in the past(including past lives, if you believe in that.) The wheel goes around and around.

Peace of God comes dropping slowly

This remembering, who I am to God, helps me get off the wheel of debt. I can focus on debts I owe and ask God for help in discharging that debt. Just a little prayer for that person can cause grace to descend. The debt, which I owe them, which is causing the problem, that debt I owe them from another time, is causing the conflict in the first place. Acknowledging there is some input from me in the conflict changes the direction of the wheels. Or maybe I am being asked to stand up for my self when I did not in the past. That prayer may cause them to come and hug us. I also have had someone apologies for what they did some time later, after I prayed for them on a daily basis for a long time.

There are no enemies, because we are all connected, like the aspen trees, in our roots, and it is a good idea to love our enemy, because that enemy is myself and also one of God’s own.  Keeping our enemy close to us by hating them is what keeps our roots intermingled. This is one of the most important laws, going in there with loving the enemy and searching out what that looks like for us. Where the rubber meets the road, is the place of choice, about how to do this loving, lobbying, peace and love over the fence between. Prayer is the beginning and sending light and love and healing to them is a big second.  

I had a little dream, surely linked to the first one above, the lysis of which was to go outside and I would find what I needed out there. So I am outside on my porch this morning and, well, it is freezing. Not bad when it is sunny but when the sunshine goes in behind a cloud, and when a snow flake lights on my hand and melts there, I refuse to believe until I see it turn to water. I though it was some white fluff flying around for fun.  

The man on left has big white plastic tube stuck to his back. I, on the right, have a wicker swat. On the right is a door with the remainder to plastic tube visible.

The other part of this second dream is that there is huge plastic snail like thing attached to a man’s back and I have a largish wicker swat to get to it. That is when the man tells me to go outside and get that green stuff out there. I wonder about this huge vacuum like thing and wonder if it is full of my trespasses, the name for debts in my mother’s religion. Someone said that the word “trespasses” is full of the sound of snakes.

Trying to stay warm on the porch. I must confess to having an electric blanket to keep me warm along my legs and feet. Some days are hot and some are cold.

And on that note I will say goodbye today. A lunch meeting and some sessions await me and I am looking forward to that. I will say some prayers for you and you for me so we can let go of all those debts and claim out birthright of connection, direct no less to our Source, and direct to each other. Love from Rose. Love is my Religion, “Like” if you do and comment if you want. I look forward to your comments on my dreams, even on that great plastic tube attached to that man’s back.  

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The Feet

One toe has almost disappeared when looked at from underneath

One sunny afternoon lately Rose took a look at the bottom of her feet and was amazed to find one of her toes underneath has disappeared. The foot on the right side in general looks older, had a sticking out bone, maybe a bunion below the big toe, which whenever it gets a chance, sports an ingrown toenail, the big toe she means. 

New York Pedicure

All this is inspired by the woman on Facebook who got a gift of a pedicure for Christmas and when she went to use it, the woman attending to her gave her a look when she saw her foot and took out the “cheese grater” to straighten everything out. Her comments made me laugh. 

Somebody is reading the Secret Teachings of all Ages

In dreams the feet are what you stand on and depending on what is happening with the feet, there will be an interpretation found.


Her recent dream involved her animus, her inner male person. As it was a real man she knows, she initially wanted it to be about him and his girl, and she had her own ideas/plans about it all. Later she though of it as her owndream, about her inner male energies, as imprinted by her father. Rose’s dream man is having an interview with his bosses and they have notes about what he said and when. They said that he said that since he had the baby, he has not been able to concentrate properly. 

I mended these slippers again for the New Year. They both have blue soles now.

The baby is Rose’s attempt at connecting with the presence of God. This male part of her psyche, an archetype, is not very helpful and complains. The only thing she could relate this to is her way of complaining, of looking at that which bothers her, going over it and not letting it go. 

Rose has four living sisters, all fruit from the same tree. I love them all.That has to be me in the center, as I am the smallest of them all.

One of her lovely sisters said to her “there you go again, feeling sorry for yourself.” Rose looked around, to see if this insult could be about someone else. No it was her. (They were on the phone.)

There is really nothing to complain about. It is better to declare the no one owes you anything. It is the “forgive us our debtors ” injunction. They may still owe you but as far as you are concerned, no one owes you. You can feel something falling off of you as you do this. The promise is that what ever you owe to God will be dropped by God as a result of you forgiving others.

It is not that difficult to notice how this complaining takes up quiet a big portion of her time, and is a record going around and around. She always puts something on it to be looked at from all angles, to be complained about. When it is quiet done she puts it on the shelf. At the least reminder, trigger, she pulls it back down, and set it to rolling, adding to it if she can. She can be triggered by any nonsense. She is also bored  with this being sorry for herself. 

The ability of the mind to go around and around will be always there (until she wears it out and becomes senile or not.) She can choose what she will put on that record. Right now it is this writing and she can do the same thing with this record, looking at what she is writing from all angels, waiting for the twists and turns to carry her into the presence. That is a tall order but the mind is the servant of the spirit and is meant to help us. It gets into a gangly mess if used upside down on complaints. It is a tool of the ego then. 

I got cabin fever last evening, not having a party to attend and our usual haunt out of commission due to recovery issues. I rode my bike up a hill and as I walked along due to the steep incline, I met a young woman I am acquainted with, smoking on her porch and joined her as she told me her dream and her life. She is a courageous and daring  young person, who is not yet twenty-two. Then I rode my bike to see a young family that I know who lives near by. Again we had a lovely time and discussed a dream or two, as she plied me with some pieces of her dinner leftovers. I had root vegetables earlier, and was very hungry for those “oh so yummy” morsels. 

 The de-j’a-vu dream/event became the topic. I wanted to connect it to past life experiences, that we are triggered into the same past life memories more than once in this lifetime. It might be as simple as hearing the drops of water coming off a roof, so real, so near, happening exactly the same on two different occasions. Then throw in the fact, that we are here to learn about love and spirit as we grapple with servitude, health issues, lack of money issues, whatever comes our way etc. There is always an interface with consciousness, our own higher consciousness, directing us, instead of pushing and pulling based on our fears. 

In the end I am left with the inklings I have. I had an inkling to leave my house on my bike, to go with the direction I was to go, to talk to those I talked with, to loose my cabin fever, to exercise my bones, to feel connected and to put on my bicycle light and hope that my own little light can keep blinking in the right way in this coming year. I wish you a great New Year.

Keep praying and all will be well, you for me and me for you. Meditate five times a day and in the middle of the night, and/or at 8.00 am. One minute for every year of your life. All times are good times to entertain the higher consciousness.Love from Rose.

Tina, the most lovely black cat.

Like my writing, share or comment. I appreciate your attention to this and wish you a glimplse into what is so close to you, what is there for the asking. Love from Rose.   

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