The Spilt Grains

My mother loved her saints, St Teresa. St Joseph and others and had her own particular prayers she addressed to them. She liked St Teresa, her namesake, in particular and while I am not sure she read her voluminous writings, I know my mother talked to me about her.

I find myself reading Saint Teresa’s writings and find them marvelously warm and fascinating. She sometimes describes something I do not have words for. She was loved and protected by a house of nuns and also protected by her sanctity, her connection to something higher. She gives me encouragement to continue with more meditation.

Last Sunday, I was determined to set my intention and get into the centering of the great space where love and light abounds. I had a block of twenty minutes. I have no idea what happened in the twenty minutes but I felt light and full of beans for the rest of the day and the following week. I tried this morning again and my intention brought me into a lovely feeling of light heartedness and relaxation, that it is following me again for some days.

Spinning my bike wheels walking up the road

 I am trying to send out light love and healing to our current situations in our country, praying specially for the healing of the nations and their respective leaders and their people. Please join me in any effort you can make in this direction as the try is counted for righteousness and there is the possibility of dancing in that spaciousness, asking for unity. If you find yourself in a dream looking for directions to Union Station, you know you are on the right path.  

On the funny side this past week, while full of joyful feelings, it seemed to be also the week that I was designated to loose things. I went to the co-op full of the idea that I would make unleavened bread and while there collected a few things too many for my bike carrier. Undaunted, I piled things on top of each other even as the carrier was trying to list to one side, especially if I lurched any way other than straight ahead on even surfaces.

The unleavened (carrot) bread

I decided to walk the bike home and lean against the listing side. My friend was coming down the road to meet me and after my handbag fell out of the top of that shopping bag she offered to carry that for me. We picked up my checkbook and a few other things in the darkening evening. The fall down of the handbag happened when I had to get off the path for a road entering from the right side.

As we soldiered on and were crossing the next side road safely and mounting the path on the other side, the shopping bag fell out of the carrier now totally leaning to one side. Limes and apples fell into that puddle where the birds bathe, where water comes out of a sump pump from the corner house. The shopping bag was torn down the side. The two bags of grain were in tact, buckwheat and millet.

a little dancing with a helpful inner opposite

My friend said she could carry more stuff for me so we placed some items in the torn bag, which was useful for carrying one bag of gain and a few light items and I still had stuff in the carrier including the bag of buckwheat. The bag was made of brown paper and not tied any too well or secure.

The basket carrier was held on with bungee cords. Adjusting the cords made little improvement in things as I latched them and un-latched them to my seat and to the bike. Then we tackled the up hill of Wolfe Street and got to my house on that fast moving corner on Sterling Street.

My helpful friend

 I yanked the bike up onto my lawn but not before the basket took another dive to one side and started to empty out my grain, in slow motion, onto to the road itself. Most everything else stayed in the basket. I got my things and myself off the road for a third time. 

My friend seems to be hardly able to contain herself with watching the show. I noticed her on my periphery, as she placed my handbag and torn bag on my lawn. Waves of mirth escaped her culminating in one squeals of delight. I even found it hard not to be caught up in our shared drama.

In this dream, my lover is in the bed and I am getting in from the left. However I am hoping he will not notice the other guy in the bottom of the bed well tucked in. Other than laugh at this I am considering a number of things.

This was my week to be in a good humor no matter what happens. I went back and put the top layers of buckwheat back into the bag, fistful after fistful, leaving a layer of two on the road. Those little triangular grains have a warmth of their own.

The next day I realized my purple glasses, for $1 in the dollar store, went missing and I rode my bike back down the road and found them in the leaves at the bird- bath corner. They were in tact and I felt very satisfied.

The sage and onion bread

When I got home I got out my Cuisinart and my Magic Bullet and turned two cups of millet and two cups of buckwheat into flour. I reduced a large carrot and two onions  to two ground up cups of each.  I ended up with two different breads, unleavened, one leaning toward sage and onion and the other toward raison carrot cake. They are not sweet or salty but nice when chewed a bit or plastered with honey. 

Years ago I had the intention to make three people laugh daily. Let me know in your comments if I am getting there. I am greatly thankful for my readers, their sharing and their comments. I pray for you and you pray for me so we can taste that nectar only found in that spaces between, where love and grace and love reside. Until the next time, when an other story that is brewing in the back of my brain makes it into the light. Your prayers help bring it to light. Love you, from Rose Marie.

At the beach a month ago, the blue line over the sand is the water.
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The Mask

I was invited or more accurately was able to go the Cape Charles, because a friend found herself there without her favorite nieces who were too busy at College. I had a great time and while there was some remnant of some storm flapping about over the water, it did not stop me finding a sheltered place and having a few dips in the not so cold bay water. The guys on the pier puled in lots of fish and the sunsets were magnificent. 

sk an

On my way to the beach I called one of my old friends so she could commiserate with me when I told her I had been reprehended about not wearing a mask. The person involved with the reprimand was only trying to keep his family safe and saw this hinging on the weakest link in the whole of life and I was becoming that person. I swallowed my uppidy pride and promised to work with them 

Even the skeletons are wearing masks except for one.

When I called my old friend for sympathy she told me she had not asked me to the beach with her this year because of the idea that I would not wear my mask and world not have the courtesy to be tested before going to join them. I was hurt, felt a little knife was put into me ad my stomach dropped and my heart shrivelled. 

I loved looking at the patterns the grass made in the sand when the wind was blowing

I got two dreams, one from a book ad one f rom a client, The one from my client was descriptive of how she was walking in the chambers of Jesu’s heart, a pink place, and that there were knife wounds hear and there. I knew how he felt in that moment. The other dream related o the bleeding heart of Jesus and came from a book. 

Great Circles – like mandalas

As I was driving my car and had a number of hours ahead of me, I delved into the ins and outs of the whole mask situation. In the summer I had loosely planned to go to her house to celebrate her birthday after the fact by having tea outside but it did not happen. I asked her why. She said because of the “the mask”. She said she did not think I would wear my mask. More fodder for the big untidy haystack covering all my mask grumps. 

She did say I was her favorite outdoors person, fire maker and sharer, and outdoor painter and mandala maker. But the perception of me as an unmask wearer  – and probably not too inaccurate – got in the way. How I missed meeting with her and had no idea I was the cause. 

Not a lot of color this year – except in the yard where I was staying.

At the beach I continue with my chanting and meditation and found myself going over the mask conflict all again and catching myself – after the chanting had begun. I fell into a reverie of talking to her. Only this time I caught myself mid thought, emotion, feeling, and seeing how I was rooting this conflict in my guts, watering it , giving it all warmth, airing it with all my heart and burying it deep with all the other grumps of my life in my first chakra and growing a tree of life that is all raggy and might fall and kill me dead for my trouble. 

Lots of life in this tree

So I stopped and said: “May you be well and happy” prayer for her and hers. I followed it up with seeing the light in her, all the way down her back bone knowing she is a soul, the same as me, connected to me for some lifetimes. I truly can wish her well and not let a flimsy mask, sweat inducing, black spot growing on lip and nose, get in the way. 

From the dreams

Then as I went on in the chanting it came to me that I needed to see her as God’s soul, to see her soul. To see her backbone infused with a light from God. Now that felt better. It became a dimensional thing, leaving my guts and getting into the area above the heart, where the light of old shines. So what was a problem for me, a stumbling block rose me up with a stepping stone. 

Angel at the alter

Meditation is like a dream and in the last couple of months, I have glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of images within the meditation. The remembered images are an Angel at the left side of a big white marble alter. Another was of a golden clothed knee coming out of black darkness. A recent one was of a baby rolling onto the floor right in front of me, where I was meditating. And the best one of all was of a youthful version of the friend above with bangs and black hair, staring at me briefly, in my bed before she went off to the left. She made her way into a dream later as a helpful person, a Joan of Arc savior type of archetype shared in the next paragraph.  

I had a dream very recently, and there was a great tree that started to become uprooted and was shaking around to left and right of a city street I was on. It was hard to see where to go to be safe. Then I saw the young woman, running toward us with this huge tree under her arms. I could see where she had cut it down close to the bottom. It seemed that it was no trouble to her to do this work in an instant. She was the same one I saw in meditation, with bangs, young face, looked like my friend. It s always good to get help from an unexpected source.

Happy at the water’s edge.

The help came as a result of leaning into the light in meditation and trying to rearrange myself so the grumps could be cut down and they would no longer be starving the tree of life in me. I am excited that I can put myself through the wringer and get a new line of laundry, with shining flowing words: “blessings, healing, light, and love”, blowing in that wind of Spirit. Love from Rose. 

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Sparrows and Wrens at Bible Study

New dreams

I am never satisfied. I have to be asking for dreams from old and young, from buyers and sellers and from all who come my way. Some folks say they cannot remember but when I tell them about my latest dream, they usually chime in with their latest offering triggered by something I have said.

Recently I got a dream from a student. He said he went up high place and could see the coast of Maine. He was there for some hiking.  He said that from above he saw a taller than life man at the edge of the ocean with a cape and pointy hat on, and he had a paintbrush attached to a stick and he was attempting to draw a picture. Each time he painted, the water came over the painting and washed it clean. 

a tall man in the yard on Wolfe Street

In a selfish interest of getting better at interpretation, I sallied forth and said that if he is going up high, he is trying to get the big picture. If he is hiking in Maine, he is trying to find himself. He is asking the questions that young students try and answer. 

This person who had the paintbrush is himself, coming to him from before his life began and from the future. He is letting him know (the student does not have an interest in art) that what he thinks life is about will be washed off again and again from before. The old person may be an archetype of old wise man, (Gandalf type) who wants to help answer his question. 

My friend dreamed of a fairy in her garden.

The above happened in a short span of social time. I would have liked to talk to him about his life in more detail to understand the meaning of the dream further. Then I could even revise what I said depending on the student’s associations. (He gave me permission to blog about the dream anonymously.) It is always nice to follow up with a client who brings their dreams on a weekly basis so the ongoing story of their unconscious, their connection to everything important, everything spiritual and everything held in the shadow can come into the light. 

Barach Obama came into my dream last night and he came to help but he cold not until some operation, my operation was complete. I interpreted it as something I had forgotten to do so I did it this morning and hope that satisfies the unconscious as a response to the dream. 

As usual I am trying to get some healing for my ailments, which seem to become very settled when I do meditation that I feel brings me into oneness, peace and love. I have been sloppy lately, not insisting on structured silence and my chanting being very chatty with myself instead of God. Someone said to me yesterday that in Silence we remember out oneness with God. 

I am also tarrying with puling the light through my body toward the end of meditation and that seems to be helping. The words of the song given to me by Lois Carter goes “I am sending you light, to hold you to heal you, I am sending you light to hold you in love.” It is the light of Christ that brings the Love in. I am a work in progress. 

I am still praying for Election affairs. “All is one, One is all , there is only One.” The latter was a response to a dream in which my father is pacing up and down and insisting on these words. He was on a bridge at the time and I presume he was between this world and the next, as he was a few years deceased when I had that dream. 

Who will bring us together, this split, and will it be someone on the outside or will it come because enough of the people in United States, all pray for the one thing, unity, kindness, care, love, empathy, and all the other virtues we can lean into at any time. 

We had a great explosion here in Harrisonburg. I was outside doing QiGong at the time with Elizabeth Scott and another person. We were socially distanced and enjoying the fresh, if cold air. We all felt that monster sound, that going down energy into the ground and coming back up. An image of a great circular ball accompanied the sound for me. My daughter’s recording company was one of the businesses taken out in the explosion. This brought it a little closer to home for me. 

I went to Bible Study this morning with my favorite people. We are studying the Our Father as part of our book on prayer. I love the Edgar Cayce readings on the Our Father linking each line of the prayer to the seven Chakras in our bodies. I wanted to  interject about the first Chakra being connected to “Forgetting our First Love” and the “daily bread” being connected to remembering that we are spiritual beings, and the daily bread being spiritual food. It is always available.

 While we were meeting a whole crew of sparrows had a bit of a fight with a Carolina Wren who had the nerve to sing in the tree above. I was distracted by the wren and the lovely song not three feet above the porch where we sat.. The wren hid between two branches, under a leaf, while the sparrows said a lot of things. I wanted to concentrate on the birds but they had only about half of my attentions. I needed to be listening to my own group and not be rude. We are finished the book on prayer and I have a better idea on how to pray, prayers of thankfulness for all that comes my way and many other kinds of prayer. 

Thanks you for reading this far. You can sign up for my blog and it will come to your email address each time I post. I feel called to do this writing and pray that you are oft in prayer and in singing praises and prayers of joy and requesting and accepting types of prayers. I will pray for you and you will pray for me, an unselfish act that benefits us both. Happy Halloween and enjoy the pictures from the streets that surround me.

Love from Rose. 

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Fairy Dream and Frisco

Finally I was on my way to the Outer Banks and was excited as I was going to Frisco, which was far south on Route 12, the highway that links the outer banks together. I had a co-driver and we got going at 10.30 am. On our journey we got a text to say the road flooded and impassable at high tide, but that was not until10.30 pm. We should be good to go. 

It was getting toward evening when we were finally on Highway 12 and the traffic sowed to a crawl and my co-driver wanted to turn back but I noticed everyone else was grimly inching along and while I heard it would now take twelve hours to get there at the rate we were going, I did not want to turn back.

We camped in a a wood cabin the first night in Frisco

As it got darker and slower and the wind was howling, I thought “We are in God’s country.” Our road was getting covered with sand and water and there was just one lane for the two-way traffic. The car in front of us would waddle around on the sand and water and I would be a back seat driver as my codriver made good decisions and kept the wheel steady.

Then we came to a big corner where a road above our road was being built. At this corner the water was about a foot deep and as we heard the water hitting the bottom of the car below us, gurgling, we skidded, aquaplaned and generally went this way and that. Whether to climb onto the sand or stay in the water was a mystery.

It was seriously beautiful

We climbed onto dry road and were off at a good speed again. Here were other puddles and sand but none as bad as that. This turned out to be the place where road closing happened. The road was closed that night and stayed closed for five days. We felt especially lucky to have bested the wind, sand and the water and get to Frisco and out shelter for the night. The road was closed for five days after that and we were one of the last cars to get through.

Next day I awoke a bit after five am and did some chanting and planned to see the sunrise. I rode my back though the six inches of water on our street, a left over from two days of rains the week before. When I got to the beach sunrise was covered over with bands of dark clouds over a white foamy ocean stretching in all directions. Some waves further out threw foam skyward. I started some stretching and within minutes the golden light of the new sunrise flash lit the ocean in random places.

This was an evening sky as the sun was going down – there was a fine white fog going on also .

I squealed with delight into and extended OM. A short white haired woman came up the beach, dressed in blue and white carrying a dark red rosary beads in her right hand, hanging down as she used it. She smiled back at me and said “how could one not love the maker of all this.” I agreed heartily.

That morning, the little and bigger breeds of terns were on the beach, not looking up at anything, just sensing the water and foraging. I sat close to the surf watching the terns. They could judge each wave and how to stay ahead of it at a fast run, picking up morsels for themselves. They ran very close to me at times as my eyes were closed, off and on and I would catch sight of them in a sideways glance.

Very little beach left at high tide.

Beautiful dogs on leashes, walked by eager to look in my face also.

The next day we went to the beach together as a group. I was dressed for a swim but the ocean was a bit wild at the edge. The songwriter among us was singing a newly formed line of a song so we joined the refrain “Down in the dunes” and were dancing to it at the edge of the waves. I had my back to t he waves, totally engaged in gyrating to those newly formed lines.

One of my legs was up in the air when the wave hit me and I came down into a split before being turned over and down into the water. I grabbed for the shifting sands under me and got no traction. The two younger adults grabbed me, one on either side of me, as I flew past them pulling me upright in the fast receding wave.

that is me dancing before the wave took me down.

The fact that my swim suit was going south had to be ignored, the top half all up and the bottom half all down, Both the young adults were wet up to their shoulders.

The water was warm, and the young man thought he would do battle with the undertow and roll in on a wave, which he successfully accomplished. I lay down in the surf at the edge and rolled in sideways in less intense amounts of water. I kept my eyes fixed on the water and no more dancing with my back to it. I have a rule, which I forgot in the excitement of the new song, which is to never turn your back on the water.

Mandala that brought insight when interpreted for color and shape. (Mari Reading)

Fairy dream.

I cannot remember ever getting a dream about leprechauns or fairies. This week I got two. One was from a person at the market who told me he found himself all up to his waist in snow and that he saw chickens in the snow nearby. However when he looked again he saw that the were little men no more than the height of a chicken. The dreamer was soon busy with another customer so I did not get to say much other than being waist deep in snow is not such a good thing. The lower half is stuck somehow. But some times a good freezing does us good and I am certain the arrival of the Leprechauns from another dimension in his dreams heralds new energy for him, perhaps a pot of gold somewhere. I cannot wait to go back and talk some more about that dream. The other dream will have to wait for another time. 

Happy at the water’s edge.

Let me know if these times are bringing you unusual dreams. People are stirred to breaking loose out of the frozen times and new golden energy is coming in. Love from Rose.

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The Scythe and the Reaper

I saw them through the window over the street, as I heard a young child’s voice talking. He was about three years old. The Dad had stopped in the middle of the road to better pay attention to the child pushing a small-wheeled bike. I could not hear the exact words but I could see the lovely expression on the Dad’s face with a big shock of dark hair hanging over his forehead. The Dad was holding a scythe over his shoulders. The large handle looked like it was well polished and smoothed and made of wood, even varnished a soft brown color. 

Scythe in Mandala image

The Dad said a word or two to the son and they went on up Sterling Street, in their colorful clothes, blue shorts, red tee and blue in the child’s shiny helmet. They looked healthy, pink cheeked, as they were joined by a five-year-old boy, who had rode his trike up Wolfe Street a little ways and rejoined them. The father watched for traffic, calmly and they waited for a car to go by. The younger son was not on his bike, now pushing uphill, with all his might, The older child had great command of his two-wheeler, flying ahead up the road.

The three year old had shorter legs, still sporting some of the fat of a younger child and I could see his thinking to himself, if he could only throw himself and the bike on the ground and take a good rest. He thought “Mom is not here to rescue me, and how could I displease my beautiful father and show myself up against my older brother.” I wanted to go down there and carry that little trike for him. Maybe carry him, me , who no longer can walk much, let alone carry him. 

Crepe Myrtles on the Sterling street side of my house.

It was Saturday morning and I walked out onto the deck to better see and hear and as they disappeared up the road, I though of my first road trip to India and conversations with Lauren who was leading the secular part of the tour. She told me of the “three mile pressure points” and if you pressed on these points you would have energy to go three more miles. 

As the little one went out of my sight I decided to send him a boost of energy to help him get where he was going. No harm in trying to help him and let it do its best for him as I got on with my day.

Mother and grandmother

It was a great treat to see the scythe on the young father’s shoulders as he ambled up the road, gracefully holding it by draping his arms over the handle on each side of his shoulders. My father had such a scythe, and he used it to cut down tall weeds that grew in profusion around the hayshed and the barn, where they had taken root for many years on the side of the hill, not far from the house. Nettles were one of the main culprits. My mother likes to cook with them in the spring but having them growing at the front of the house was an affront to her. 

I watched my father, as he swung the scythe back and forth in a rhythmic fashion, and watched the grass fronds and the tall stems of the weeds fall before the reaper in an almost silent swish. I could be close enough to hear the grass falling and watch his body pivot and swing to accomplish the move. 

Watercolor Angel

We call the Angel of Death the “Grim Reaper” but in truth the reaper is an angel, sent to the deceased to help them on their merry way out of this earth. This Angel is a helpful influence, calming the deceased, lighting his way, and giving transport out of the rings of gravity surrounding us here. What a marvelous thing to be a free flyer in the heavens, to fly out like a bird into the great blue yonder? As Wordsworth said we come in “trailing clouds of glory.” And surely we go out again to the many mansions spoken of by Jesus outside of our dimension. 

This is the Angel who opens the door and gives a glimpse of the deceased relatives to the dying person helping them join them for a huge party on the other side where the relatives are singing and dancing, waiting for the much loved and missed dying relative. They were experiencing their own pregnancy over there, knowing the time is near for the new arrival from this earth plane. 

From the Dreams

From the dreams

I was given a dream from a young man who was on a demolished site and saw a shard of mirror. He was told that the shard of mirror could show you your death if you wanted to look. He knew for sure he did not want to see but nonetheless took a sharp sideways glance into the mirror and there he saw a man made of clay above and behind him. Then the dream morphed into seeing two red-tailed hawks, who rose and flew together in two different ways, one above the other and then wing to wing. The hawks were all red and reminded him of the phoenix rising. 

Mirrors often feature in dreams and were a great attraction when discovered first. The only way to cut the medusa off was to see her reflection in a mirror and attack her from there. 

A possible mirror from the mandala

This dream above seems to be telling him that his body is made of clay but his soul is like the phoenix, and rises out of the mortal coil and goes out of here transmuted and a flyer. We will indeed rise from the ashes of this life and lift off. 

I started this blog before going on vacation in September and when I came back I wanted to include something about the grim reaper and how it figures in the tarot cards. I did not find much but while speed reading I remembered the dream about the shard of glass. Love from Rose. 

The Pied Piper from the dreams

PS: Also I want to remind you to be praying for a peaceful election and for peace in the time after. There is no point in being anxious when you can pray about such things. Join me and others, who are doing so, at 8.00pm and 8.00am every day.

On that great sandbar, the outer banks

It only takes one good person and I know you are very good people. 

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Foxes and Pawpaws

A dream I heard lately was of fourteen foxes in the tree. There were other images of a fiddler with the sound of divine music and a mandala shaped grove of pawpaw trees. The dreamer was sharing the music and the pawpaws with others. I am still loaded up with these images and sitting with them as if they were mine, because they were full to the brim with meaning and connected deeply to the dreamers who had them.

Mandala of tree tops

There were a flock of cedar waxwings in the tree just outside my window, this morning. This tree has grown in all kind of directions during this wet summer. When I peered into the tree from my window, many flew off and the ones still in there were hidden with the leaves.

Recent Mandala connected to Mari Reading

When I was young (in my forties) I went to school, undergrad at JMU, and walked by the Newman Lake where there were two weeping willow trees, into which I went as I walked along. When I went in there, there was a crew of cedar waxwings under the branches, flying up and dropping down and I called them “olive oil drops in the air.” They had a way of dropping that was like the way a drop of green tinted olive oil drops out of a bottle, shiny and of a drop shape.

From the dreams

In my old house in Belmont, I let a rogue tree, a berry tree, grow up over the deck, out of the mulch which was only supposed to grow the grape vine and flowers. This tree gave us shade, bird’s nests to look into and it stayed covered with berries for about six weeks, around May. The top of this tree came near to a window of a room with an upstairs window seat.

At the river in Bridgewater

This little room was off the bedroom, where I was doing a late meditation of a morning. Then I heard a great ruckus outside. It was like no sound I knew and I got up to see what it was and a whole flock of cedar waxwings had come to finish off the berries. They came and went in a few short moments. The tree took on an unusual buzz, as their wings moved and the leaves and branches shook together and as the berries were pulled into their open crooky beaks of the waxwings.

In Wildwood Park in Bridgewater

Last evening I did my meditation for 8.30pm, a little late.  I set up in my counseling office, thinking that it can always do with a psychic cleansing from the meditation. I did a little chanting, prayed for all the leaders of nations, all around the globe and for their peoples so that the greater good could happen to them all. I invoked the higher power to do this work even as I added in my bit of soul into the mix so I have my two cents, my time, my attention and skin in the game. 

The other side of the once three pronged tree – a little bandy.

Asking for help is the praying part of the practice. I set two periods each day to make this prayer. I think chanting is a type of prayer.  I’m appealing to the Divine within and without at the same time. 

After chanting, saying the Our Father, releasing all “negative emotions….” I go into a silent time. I keep still, my body is sitting in one position and I have the idea to not move for any reason during this time. I close down the mind (as best I can) during this time, bringing back the focus to the Divine and the intention to listen to God during this time. I am now listening (not for God) but to God.

Women helpers from the dream world – Dark skinned women from the dream of a young white man

Then I just have to wait. This morning I had the impression of me watching as a van, a red van comes (without any windows) and I am looking down as it pulls in.

I barely noticed this image, feeling like it is a dream that I just about caught before it disappeared. I realized that this red van image , may be a response to my intention to listen to God. I open my eyes and look out the glass window in front before which I had set myself meditating, and saw the tall trees across the road. The glass between us had become as nothing, and the leaves shook just enough for me to see them individually. There was a lovely feeling left in the wake of the meditation.

Sometimes there are birds in the trees. Othertimes not. (A tree in Purcell Park)

The red of the van was a bright red, and may be highlighting some connection with the first chakra, that place where the roots of the tree of life,F of the divine within start growing. The unconscious, the intermediary between God and me gives me just the right image for now and I will be looking for how it will morph as I look for my own new dream images.

It has taken me a while, over fifty years to settle on this way of meditation and use it in the right way. Pining myself into silence works best, the more intentional, the more consecrated, concentrated I get.

Photo of the almost eaten pawpaw

 I went to the Farmer’s Market and what should I see but a wooden box labeled pawpaws. I took the biggest and softest, four of them and was warned by the owner to eat them soon as one was a little bruised and very much ripe. I went home and sat on the deck, not even going inside to eat the pawpaw. It was straight from heaven the taste, so juicy and full of melt in the mouth custard consistency, like the sweetest tasting thing of my childhood. 

Two pawpaws and two brown seeds in the middle

I asked Solly about the fox image and he said it was the most smart of animals. He recalled seeing a hunt for the fox by the hounds, riders and horsemen. The fox would go all around the place and confuse the dogs so they could not find the fox. Then he saw the fox, standing up on a wall, watching the horses go by as if to say “I tricked them.”

From the market

When my two baskets were full I headed for home and am finishing up wishing you peace and love and kindness for yourself and others. Remember you only keep what you give away. (Two of my pawpaws are gone and I am negotiating with myself if I can give one of the other two to a friend that will visit in the afternoon.) As you can see I continue to need your prayers. I try to pray for my readers routinely. Love from Rose.

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Of Motor Bikes and Monsters

When one of my little girls said she was afraid of the buggy man/monster in the dark room at night, my husband immediately got the broom, brought it into the room, opened the window and “swept it out” to the satisfaction of everyone in the house especially the little child.

The mad bee

Recently I heard the story of a child on a sleep over with his granny saying he was afraid and his little eyes, big and blue, filled with tears. The grandmother put her arms around him as she listened to his story of his monsters and his nightmares, whispered into her ears. She was greatly moved to protect him and as she listened and looked at those tears she put her whole soul into knitting a protection of love to fit all around him.

He stopped his crying and went to bed and had a peaceful night and in the following days was very happy.

Inspired by old photograph

“Perfect love casteth out all fear.” Not only was the child affected but the grandmother was able to throw out her own fears to help him.

Two days later she saw what seemed to be a huge bee in the garden, that got up in her face and she felt it was somehow connected to the child and the fears. I had to agree that anytime when we cast out fears, we experience a little kick back, the pound of flesh feeling. However again the pure love employed to cast it out, also protects us.

Dealing with a mad bee

She screamed and wondered later if she had been imagining things. I think the scream has the effect of bringing her back from the other dimension where that complex of fears, as represented by the bee, abided.

To Market to Market to see the Motor Bikes

During the pandemic, I had my vegetables and eggs delivered. Solly Walker would come to the back door with two bags of fresh produce. If I were away he would put the bags in my overfull fridge.  As the market has reopened I visit Avalon Farm Stand and pick up a share of everything, adding this and that as I am eating a lot of vegetables. 

From the dreams

I like to visit the farmer from the top of Afton also and get some honey from him. He said the honey was just bottled three weeks ago. My father was a farmer who had a few hives of bees, which made him a beekeeper of sorts. I have very high standards for my honey. I also tend to love beekeepers and the honey in the jar – well it was all I could do not to eat the honey all in one sitting.

The farmer bee keeper from Afton gave me free tomatoes, the Roma type and told me to slice them thick, place them on paper towels to soak off the water and then to use them on the top of homemade pizza.

From the dreams

He lifted the ripest and heaviest and the reddest ones and handed them over. The leaves on the basil plants were very fragrant and lovely with the tomatoes raw with oil and salt.

While I was shopping on the side of the market that faces Liberty Street, I was pulled away into a great parade of motorbikes driving down the street. It is a one-way and the bikes looked like they were perfectly socially distanced from each other. They were all going at the same speed and their engines came and went in my ears with a wonderful buzzing.

This water color might be upside down.

They were very colorful and all different shades and sizes. Shiny metallic blues, reds, blacks. Along by the side of the bikes, a policeman looking perfectly uniformed flew along to get to the beginning of this parade at the next junction. There were three wheelers, scooters, and antique looking and newly modern bikes. Some had two people on board and some with one person driving. One woman in her tight blue jeans and long helmeted hair looked like a rock of stability as she rode by on her scooter.

I could not restrain myself from waving at them. They instantly waved back. I saw a rider take his hand onto the horn and send out a marvelous sound. Soon everyone was waving and smiling. We were swept along with feelings of moving energy, longing to be going out of town on a motorbike. We felt happy to be there to feel a jump in our juices as we continued our Saturday chores.

Where I set up painting camp by the river in Bridgewater.

Similarly, last Sunday as I stepped into the North River in Bridgewater, I saw those Mennonite families out in canoes tackling the fast moving water. A younger son had his own canoe roped on to another canoe and he had a look of ecstasy on his face as he stabbed the water with his oar. In one canoe there was an older lady, the mother on the center seat, doing nothing, her arms folded tightly across her chest, and she caught my eye and smiled. Her daughter, a big woman, in small print blue dress and head covering was standing up working a big oar.

There is a waterfall there through the trees which had a great sound.

These energetic things happening all around me brings me hope of robust strong health and energy in my body. I feel the waves of energy possible to achieve this, through the waves in the work that I do, through the waves in my brain that come from loving the rivers, the people, the children and God especially.

While appreciating my readers, the rain, the sunshine and the shadows, all around, my prayer, getting louder, is for us all as a family of earthling, to take cleaning up seriously, whether it be our selves, the rivers, our minds, our energy, our emotions and our politics. It is easy to be thankful for the marvelous honey flowing in the jar, the motorbikes, Solly and the Afton Farmer, but also to be thankful for all that comes our way.

North River wet hair day

Love from Rose.

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The Dawn and the Dream

This morning I awoke at 5 am and having had eight hours sleep I got started with my morning practice. I have been doing this practice upstairs for a few months but I felt the pull to go outside again, get warmly dressed and set up on my deck. I rummaged and found some warmer clothes to wear, pulled out my winter wool hooded striped wrap, and got started. At some point I lit incense and the bee’s wax candle. There was no breeze outside to speak of.

Dawn at the beach a few weeks ago.

I faced the big walnut trees, as that is the place behind which the sun comes up. There was a huge planet in the eastern sky. It was mostly hidden with branches. I leaned over on my side to get a good view through one of the holes in the branches. I lost my balance but had a good view.

As I lie there stretching this and that, I can totally ignore my leg pain. I suspect I have some kind of vested interest in keeping it there. It occupies my life quiet a bit.

The morning was beautiful, pretty quiet to begin with but I could hear the insects chirruping lowly all around me. The sun came up at 6.35am and I was ready to be sitting quietly, singing a love song. As the beautiful colors of the dawn arose all around me I had the impression of the music of the spheres singing over me. My face was full of smiles. 

Dawn smiles

The invitation to listen and hear the birds and insects join together in praise in the morning surrounded me. Just as I finished my chants, a wren flew on to the deck, on the corner, a little above where I was siting. Like myself, the bird was a bit tattered. I was fairly still at that time and I hooded my eyes and just kept them one-quarter open. 


I have this impression that if a bird can see my eyes, it will take off and I so wanted it to stay this close to me. I formed the thought that maybe it would sing. It stared directly at me a time of two but then seemed satisfied that I was no more that a log on the deck and just started to sing at the top of its voice. And as if that was not enough, it moved a quarter of a turn and repeated the song four times covering all four directions. 

The waves of the morning song broke over me, uniting all parts of me, lifting me into the morning sky and held me in this music of nature. This song united everything.

From he dreams

I had a dream experience of birds.

In my real life, I was invited out to gets some melon from a full august garden.  When I went there I found myself on a high chair, with a red seat and highly polished legs.  I had a mug of Tutsi tea in my hand and I was talking about dreams and chanting. I was out in the beautiful garden, full of produce, corn and three kinds of melons, tulsi and basil. There were cucumbers on the trellises and tomatoes. There were fruit trees and the tree that the Indian Yogi liked to grow also grows in this garden. That tree was more vine than branch and was supported by a cage.   

A well loved melon

The house and garden are on the side of a hill, near the top, overlooking a valley and there was a dip down into farmland and up the other side onto the distance hill. It was a great expanse, a few miles wide. This is a high place from which to see rainbows when the rain sprinkles the valley and this evening to observe great white clouds gracing the sky.  

Here in this garden there was holy water sprinkled from the fountains of water supplying the water to the Golden temple in Western India. I heard of the practice of scattering salt in the foundation of a house and I have some water from the Mary Shrine in Knock in Ireland that I got from my mother by way of my sister Celine. I keep the hold water to bless myself for protection at times. 

Sunset over the Blue Ridge Mountains

It has been a few years since I was at that Holy Shrine of the Golden Tempe in India and I am so thankful to have been there. Most times I say a certain chant, I see the gold of that temple and I see a corresponding fine gold in my body below the naval. 

After an hour, not too fr from sunset, I went home with a whole baby melon under my arm and I ate half of it that evening for supper. Now it could fit in my refrigerator nicely. I woke up to practice a meditation and when it was finished I fell asleep and had a dream experience. 


In this dream experience, I was looking out over the valley described above. A flock of birds, all flying together were above me over the garden. The birds shone silver as they dived and turned in the air. The surprising thing that happened inside of me is that my body of a sudden blazed into a flying energy and as I saw and flew, I came back to by bed and darkness of my room, full of smiles at what just happened. 

The waves of flying broke over me, uniting all parts of me, lifting me into that vast sky space, and gently dropping me back into my body. Like the wren earlier this morning I carry that energy with me, often thinking of the sensation of flying and of the little flyer wren. I am grateful for this heaven on earth that is all about us. Love from Rose. 

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The Zero Card

I am going through a realization again that I am on the broad and fiery road and not on the narrow street, straightforward, wherever the spirit leads. This had been coming slowly to me because of the way I am feeling, what I am reading and the dreams I have and that my client’s being.

I think this is n image I saw on a local truck.

My client brought me a dream about a person whose association brought up the tarot card, the Fool.  As the images in the Tarot are mainly archetypal, I decided to look up the Fool associations in books that I have. It was marvelously freeing to look at the twenty pages about this “Fool” and what meaning he might have for this young woman. 

When we look at various interpretations I was drawn to the image of the Fool from a very old French deck. The fool in this deck was blindfolded and was near waters/cliff, over the edge of which stared a crocodile. The Fool is travelling very light, carrying a thick staff about the length and width of his back bone, on top of which are some bells and has a violin tucked under one arm.

My own clown/fool looking a bit sad.

I had had a dream earlier about what I thought was my back bone; it was raw and meaty and two hands were kneading it like the old style washing machines that my mother used, in which the water goes back and forth to wash the clothes. It reminded me of the staff carried in the hand of the Fool, leading him on.

The hymn from the Christian tradition, says “I go before you always, come follow me and I will give you rest.”  

The eastern religion might see this staff, as the Kundalini energy, which has that ability to go before you leading you in the path everlasting.

My happy clown /fool – painted while I water to see the comet.

The Fool is the Zero card in the deck. It has the power to open you to your spirituality and comes from a time when the Tarot was used to help with such inner journeys.

I do not read Tarot cards usually, but when the image from the Tarot comes up in a dream,  I will look at them to get the archetypal understanding and to see how it is in the life of the client. 

In my client’s dream, this Fool is interviewing her. She is just starting her dreams with me and is a young woman whose past helps her focus on this inner work. She is determined not to repeat the patterns from her childhood. Will she take on the job of inner work? She is very enthusiastic.

For my part, to honor my dream of the backbone, I am focusing on my own physical back bone.

Backbone from the dreams

I am in Physical Therapy and they have given me an array of exercises to do that focus on the backbone. I particularly like the ones that squeeze my backbone in some ways. The top half of my body going to the right and the lower half going to the left and so on, feeling a little like the washing machine effect.

I creep across the thick carpet in my attic space that allows me to feel the stretch between the top half of my body and the lower half.  It is a strange feeling to go back to the crawl that I did as a child, if I ever did. Some children skip the crawl stage.

8pm Meditation time at the beach

I do the child pose trying to get my tush down onto my heels. Sometimes I am the length of my hands up from my heels. The physical therapist was not sure she could help me accomplish this. I like the child’s pose as it helps me with that bowing and stretching down, like the Muslims do five times a day, when they pray.

A friend of mine, who walks the streets for an hour before dawn says the following prayer while walking: “Oh God, My God, My Beloved, My hearts delight.” I like to say it when I am in that stretching child’s pose and it has a calming effect on me, connecting me to spirit, the author and giver of my life. Sometimes I manage to be in the stretch before dawn.

Under the beautiful old trees in Purcell Park in Harrisonburg where I did my 8pm meditation for the Leaders of Nations and other pressing concerns.

Prayer makes it easier to ask God to come down through the backbone and to strengthen it and release from it all that needs to be banished.

I try and obey the therapist who says, “pay attention to the hips as you do the exercise. Don’t just flop around.” It is so easy to mindlessly do the exercises. When I pay attention, I hold the hip steady by clenching my muscles, as I stretch. That is strengthening. I duel task her praying and chanting to my timer on my phone.

Sunrise Meditation at the Beach

I try and always ask my self and my clients about what we can do as a result of having the dream. When you pay that kind of loving attention to the dream, by doing something specific, it lets the unconscious know that we are serious about honoring the dreams and the unconscious will take the trouble to be more forthcoming in the next dreams.

I went to the top of the Blue Ridge at Bare Fence to see the Comet – I did not see it at the time but Think it is to the right of the sun among the clouds.

I read the book “Seven Story Mountain” by Thomas Merton. I really enjoyed the good read, and it felt that it helped me notice how I am not in that narrow way and to consider a more serious look at how I can pray and meditate, let go and be of service in the way I was designed to be of service in this life. Love from Rose.

The center of the Labyrinth at ARE at Virginia Beach – a good spot for evening meditation.
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Soul Dreams and Soul Work

We have our five senses that we go by. Then there is the Soul and its senses that go down through us, through our backbones like a sword in the stone. We can learn to carry that energy in the strength of our spirituality, as it is meant to be carried or keep pulling on the locked down sword. It takes discipline and focus and intention to soften the stone up.  

Another king of sword

Do not rely wholly on the five senses, as there are other higher ones that are attributes of the soul, which get us in touch with our own Tree of Life, our sword, our Kundalini.      

The dream world is a sensing sent to us from our soul to get us in touch with our unconscious, a true connection between us and out spirit. The dream world connects us to the Tree of Life. Dreams get us in touch with what we hold in shadow, what is between us and that Tree of Life within us. It is not about what is good or evil. It is about where is the life in the situation that is calling us out. 

As an example, I dream of a puke green bird-dodo on the shoulder of a man, representing someone in authority. I take this dream as a message from the soul to tell me I have a chip on my shoulder.

It is inner male animus energies that are an ugly yellow green, a chip on the shoulder and hard to see as it is on the backside of the shoulder. It is not a true green heart color, but a green associated with bile and vomit.

The splash on the shoulder is big and looks like a hand, when I draw it with one pointing finger. The dream is telling me about the power of the index finger to put my energy toward another in an accusatory way.

It kept me awake one night, not because of the person involved but because I have male energies inside that are easily unseated, thinks it is right and is not humble. I am in my personality and my earthly senses. It is nonsense to listen to this talk in my head.

So this soul dream comes to give me pause again, relating to an issue that trips me up easily. 

Approaching the soul work wth masculine energy

The second dream I wanted to share is about the soul also. In real life I had been talking about doors, and doing some poetry and even some person sent me a note saying, “Open the Door.”

Then the unconscious uses those things that I am flirting around with, the doors to bring me a dream. The unconscious has a message from the soul for me and the unconscious sees a little opening to raise my awareness.

The dream: There is a room with huge open doors, higher than usual and maybe twice the width. I am coming along to the door with a clipboard in my hand and a pen. Inside I see a woman who is all tied up in black netting and without the use of arms and legs. She is crying out really loud and flopping around in a consistent and steady way. I was all set to go in there and speak but the atmosphere is such that I cannot, do not go in. I hear beautiful music filling the room, coming down from above.

I felt this dream was about my soul and that I have tied myself up in such a way as to prevent my soul operating in me that would be for its own joy and my own good. 

I honored this dream by rolling around, flopping on the floor over again and again.

When I thought of the music, the word “Brahms” came to mind. This made me laugh as I had bought a cd at the second hand store and it said something about “Messiah” and without looking at it much I had put it in my player and was repeatedly playing it for some months now. It turned out to be the “Brahms” music.

I have a black netting over the banister near my bed and that was similar to the dream netting. I crocheted it thinking I was making a shawl all made of wool. It seemed to have a mind of its own as it grew and grew. I use it for Halloween at times. I have still to wrap it around me and try rolling in it.

My soul sense of hearing is involved with hearing this Divine Music in my dream. Perceiving the sacred in the situation, not trouncing into the room full of rubbish talk but being able to stand in silence and listen is also an attribute of the soul.

I am meditating twice a day at 8 am and 8 pm. This is another way to connect with my soul energies. It is a way to talk to God, asking for help with our political issues, lack of unity, racial issues, and all the great pandemic issues. My specific prayer in this area is to say “For the Leaders of Nations, especially our own, so that they all reach toward the highest good for all the peoples of the planet.

From the dreams

If we have as much faith as a mustard seed, we could move mountains, like those mountains of chaos above. We just have to ask for help, our souls are listening and will lead us through the lessons we are learning. Join me and we can pray together and for each other, accepting all we find around us and presenting it as needing help from above. Intention is everything.   

Photo taken on New Years day after a little swim – seems a long time ago.

 Love from Rose         

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