Sweet Peas

During the last two weeks I was involved in an eleven-day chanting/ Kundalini class that included a daily walk and chant. I added this practice to a nightly practice of doing the Aquarian Sadhna Chant, which I have been doing for almost a year. I have been chanting for our political situations, with appeals to my Church Group, Bible Groups and my readers, among others, to join me on a daily meditation for Peace at 8am and 8 pm. I also remember to God, my readers, my family, my clients etc during these meditations. All of this case load coalesced into something more, both internally and eternally

During this eleven-day practice time I was in quarantine and alone at my house.  I met to chant nighty on a Zoom Group. One of the participants shared she went “very deep,” and saw a quick vision of a female destroyer Goddess, who was all in flames. It was a quick flash in her sight. We did this powerful chant for 31  minutes on the tenth night, with one hand on our heart and the other hand on our knee.

The above visionary had a marvelous feeling, and said she fell asleep that night in the breath of those flames.  One of the lines of our chants relates to God as “Destroyer.”  Calling on Creator God, God as Liberator, as Infinate, Nameless and Desireless were also part of the chant. By using a word that comes with a breath from our naval area, we were connection our higher and lower chakras. 

When I do Aquarian Sadhna, I always wait until I wake up in the night to begin the chanting. On that tenth night, I did the five seven minute chants. This is followed by a twenty-two minute chant that praises God and address the Soul. I felt the need to get off my back and onto my side. This is always a bad idea for me if I want to say awake.

I did not stay awake as I usually do. My timer clanging in my ear after the twenty-two minutes awakened me. I caught a glimpse of a vision. It was five flowers silhouetted against the wall and they were blue purple, just hanging there. A man I was holding close to me at hips told me to breath toward them to make them more real. I almost did not catch it. (My inner man, male and female energies, coming together within me in order to see such a vision.)

Next morning I got ready to spend an hour with my church people, who spend the time in silence, I had plenty of time to sit with my visionary flowers from the early morning time. The colors involved are blue and purple, the colors associated with higher chakras.  I breathed up into those flowers,  until they become a circle that came down and circled my neck, an area of the body where the fifth chakra is set. I would try and not be a bent and “stiff necked people.”

During the last zoom class, our Kundalini teacher spoke of the Pineal Gland, one of the higher chakras, and raising the energy from the bottom of the back bone to the top, where the Pineal Glands resides, within our brain.

During that class I got an indication of where that Pineal resides in the brain. It is connected to the fontanel, that soft spot on the brain we have as babies, and is called the tenth gate and the place through which the soul leaves the body when we pass over. I lost a sense of my uprightness and was in that spot in the brain for a moment, going the route of the backbone and up into the center of the head. 

On the day before the vision, I picked up Revelation, focusing on the Churches, writing up an explanation. The piece I was writing up was about the Thyroid, Fifth Chakra and the Pineal the Sixth Chakra. I felt my dream\vision of the flowers was connected to these two chakras because of the blue purple colors of the flowers, colors associated with the higher Chakras. 

The final connection between the events in my life and the vision came as I read St Teresa’s writings about the Solomon’s Song from the Bible. There is a line in there about flowers. Teresa treats the lines as the inner journey and connection with the sacred other. “Sustain me with flowers” I noticed connected to my dream. 

The first line of the Mantra we used in our Kundalini chant mentioned at the beginning above, says “Gobinday” a word I fell in love with the first time I heard it. The meaning of that word encompasses the word “Sustainer… The one who created me sustains me.”

I hope you can see the positive connections that happened, as I was in the midst of meditations, chants and exercises for eleven days. I love the way they all joined forces to give me my personal vision, which has faded a bit but will never leave me as I intend to be sustained by those flowers. While they are just the shape of the sweet pea flower that grows in profusion at the side of the road on Hill Street in Harrisonburg I will always be reminded of my vision when I see them. 

Let me know if you are having your own visions, whether red snakes that rise on your heart chakra, bringing in the feeling of profound love or if you are dreaming of lovely pigs sleeping in the parlor with a rotund man, similar size, all together cheek by jowl. 

I love working with clients who are actively working with Kundalini energies and actively being shown their inner animus man. These are my area of expertise. I love to hear from you through the Psychology Today Website where your information is safe and my credentials are verified. Love from Rose. 

Bonus Note.

When one of my clients saw one of my last blogs she wrote me an email and said she says the following prayer for me when she meditates in the morning. 

May you be safe and protected and free from inner and outer harm May you be happy and contented. May you be healthy and whole to whatever extent possible. May you experience ease of well being. Feel well and bless.(You too can say this prayer for me any time you please.) I am sending out a prayer for you. Love from Rose.

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Stepping Stumbling Blocks Stones

I had some trouble sleeping so I went to the end of the bed to catch the moonlight on my face that was coming in through the skylight from the waxing gibbous moon. I was soon fast asleep with her beautiful beams going deep into my face and going through my eyelids and into my eyes.

Origami, a gift from Matty.

I awoke later with the moonlight now hanging high on the beam above my head, making a square of white light on the ceiling above me. My thoughts went to the Bible Study the day before.  I had to leave the study early, as I had a visitor.

As I left the Bible Study, the leader asked what I wanted prayed for and before I could quiet answer, it was agreed that they should pray for me and my company. The study itself came back to me in my room, as a little loud with me countering anything I could and with our fearless leader insisting through reference to “The Word” that I could ask for anything in Jesus’ name from God and it would be given to me. I have used the phrase “in the Name of Christ,” in meditation often and my old mentor had me tack it onto any and all requests voiced in prayer or meditation.

Origami in the evening light – another view from above

In the darkened space in the attic, something akin to a fog seemed to come in between me and the earlier noise and I was able to say “I get it now” and started to pray in a new way for me, asking in Jesus’ name for light and love and healing from the Father for others.

It was not as if I had not heard of these relationships that I could avail of at any time. Was I too proud to ask, and had I any belief in doing this? As I stepped up over this stumbling block of unbelief looking for a stepping-stone onto this light and love and healing in my nightly prayers, I said “I mean it now.”

Origami from the side – full sunlight

I remembered to God, my neighbor, who makes beautiful mugs.  I asked God to put light and love and healing into all the mugs she makes. I had told her the day before about a sharp pain in my hand. She was holding on to her dog with her leash, I to my bike before leaving my house area. 

She told me to get some nettle tea and she offered to leave me some on my deck later. She brought tears to my eyes with her concerned look as she gazed upon me across the intersection, with her empathy. I imagined loose-leaf nettle tea on my deck as a monster heap. I was feeling expansive from her concern for me.

Origami with a little shadow.

When I came home through the back deck, I found that lovely mug on my glass outdoor table. In the mug there was a lovely card to me explaining she could not sell the mug, as there was a little uneven circle in the bottom inside. I do love circles.

This mug with its imperfection becomes the corner stone of good feeling between us and I found four “Nettle Tea Bags,” individual packets, in the mug also. These were easy things to pray for, to present to God, to put love and light and healing into every mug she will ever make in Jesus’ name.

I had a load of other prayers for her also as I had met her on the Greenway some days earlier and she was with, her fiancé. He was squatting and she was bent over. When I got there she said I had “caught her looking at the dog’s poop.” They said he was not well, as his tail was between his legs that morning and they were investigating his poop.

During that meeting I asked directly if they were getting along and they admitted they had a spat the day before and I claimed dog whisperer status and said they had upset the dog and made his tail to fall. So I included a prayer for the love between them. They are a beautiful couple.

These are two books I had to get for my teacher training MARI Course – I like them both but especially the lower one.

Over the years when asking her for a dream or two I found out about one of her family member’s needs and included him in the prayer mix.

Then I moved on to some prayers for my daughter. The Bible Study said they would pray for her as well as me, as she was my visitor. Later that afternoon I got a number of texts from her that I was pleased about, when to visit and other such plans coming up.

The Music Makers – From the dreams

As she is a musician, I prayed that all the songs coming out of her mouth would take great flight taking others up, getting them in touch with the place, where love resides and hope comes down. I thought of the prayer for her “I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not harm you, to give you hope and a future.”

It is over two weeks since all of the above happened and I have been quarantining as I have the Covid 19. I am going a little crazy being home alone and not feeling like much exercise. I call it Covid Light as it seems to be responding to the Vitamin C and D and others supports.

My friend Sundri, who lives in Trinidad, recommended steaming my head, and it seems to have relieved the headache whenever it hit. It was hard to submit to the steam but every time it totally relieved it. I slept really well last night after my sister said she prayed a lot for me. I had a dream of a lot of yellow tomatoes. I am topping up on citrus daily. I got two gallons of tomato juice, bottled in glass jars, in the summer, and they are honoring the dream.

I have kept my prayer and meditation times even as I fell into a cranky funk yesterday. But a little mild exercise, my sisters prayers, two bags of groceries, telephone call with my sister in Dublin,  and a bit of typing have dragged me back into the land of love and the living and I am grateful for all the wonderful supports I have. Keep those prayers going for me and I am praying for my readers. Love you. Rose. 

In Santorini in 2019 above the blue Mediterranean – oh to go traveling again.

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The Stile

Moriah stood before the stile. They were a collection of rocks, which were stacked in such a way as to form steps, up one side and down the other.  People used this stile to go out to the “Slug Field,” which separated the lane from the field. 

She remembered her earliest attempts to get over the rocks and follow her father. She was chastised initially, as that was a throughway between the villages and her parents did not want her to be out there on her own. Finally her father relented and lifted her over the stile with a warm smile on his face.

There were blackberries, and elderberries in abundance, as well as trees of all kinds along the banks on either side and all the wild flowers and grasses laced there ways around the edges of the way. Wild strawberries, so tiny, and sloes, dusty green gray,  grew in abundance on the banks. There were great wheels of primroses in the early springtime, on the side of mossy banks wherever they could get a hold. 

When she was a bit older and could climb over, she followed her mother on a mission to “thin the carrots.” She would hand Moriah some of the bigger carrots to munch on as she sat between the rows. They were very sweet and crunchy and shared with her younger sibling.

She sat on the stile and lapsed into the memory of her father’s anger with a cat, that ate some pretty young ducks, two yellow ones in particular. He slung the cat againt the stile nine times, one for every one of the cat’s lives. The cat was just able to scamper away and never came back.

Moriah and her siblings watched from a little distance, as their father morphed inot a mad man, with his ordinary blue cardigan on and his old dark tatty britches, getting his anger out bang after bang.  The look on his face was staring and his eyes glassy. He was not smiling now. 

Mariah was about five years old and had twin siblings who were double that age. Within days her siblings got a hold of Moriah and with one holding her arms and the other her feet they slung her against the stile. She was petit and pulled herself up after the first shock of hitting the rock. They did it again. She got up more slowly. They did it again and each time Moriah was less aware and able to get up. Then she lay there in a heap and her dead weight was too heavy and her sisters went away.

Her father found her there on the ground and carried her up to her mother who was an anxious woman, who hit her when she came too and gave her a good dose of herbs. Moriah had seizures after that as she had a brain injury. It was treated with a visit from chief druid of the herbs and she gradually got better except for an occasional seizure in the night.

When this happened, she was with one of her twin sisters who held her tight and related the affair to her mother. Her mother consulted Druid Bernie who got a group of his fellow Druids together to heal her. They put her in the center of a circle. They each had a three-foot long stick from the hawthorn tree. It was springtime. The sticks were dark and bare and just a little suggestion of green buds coming out on them.

Moriah was well wrapped up in wool and fur and she soon fell asleep as they circled one way and them the other around her swinging the sticks above their heads as they circled. Some times they made individual circles and other times passed the sticks around above their heads as they went around in their flowing robes.

They created vortexes within themselves and within the center in which Moriah was laid. She was soon fast asleep as it was early morning and the sun was not up yet for a few hours.

As she came awake she remembered a dream. She felt parts of her body down deep in the ground, other parts out to the right and the left. She felt the swinging back and forth, like the hitting of the wall in reverse.

When she awoke fully the druids were sitting in a circle around her and they had made a tent of their sticks, which came together in a loose point held together with some gossamer threads of grass. The sticks were now covered with foliage and with blossoms, white and fragrant. The sticks had bloomed during the cermony. The sun was in the sky above and the knot of the point of the sticks shielded the sun from her eyes. She sat up blinking and smiling at Druid Bernie.

He whispered some words she did not know as he helped her out of the tent of sticks. He gave her a bag of big red apples, jenneting variety, sheep nosed at the top, and told her to eat one each day for 10 days. Mariah stared into that bag and was mesmerized with their red shiny color. She had a hard time not eating them one after the other.

As she left the stick tangle, Druid Bernie led her and his druids to a table laden with marvelous food and a great fire lit outside nearby. Mariah was soon fed and ran away to play with her friends. Her mother brought out many dishes for the druids and she nodded and served as they laughed uproariously at their own jokes.

Their laughter and good humor spread out bringing a great boom rolling out in every direction, carried on the fragrance of the hawthorn blooms, which were everywhere growing, and all bloomed that morning in unison with the sticks used in the ritual healing ceremony. Her night time seizures left and never returned, although it took everyone a while to notice, especially Moriah. The end.

You can sign up for my blog when I publish. It will come to your email address. Thanks for reading. All is well, sending our a prayer for you right now. Love from Rose.

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Dream Sessions

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Moriah is Mulling about Her Cups

She is sitting at the river and the ball of pain in her right leg, that seems to think it can take up residence behind her long bones, is feeling the cold and so is very active. Moriah is trying to ignore it as usual and is threatening to dip it into the cold cold river if it does not stop. It hides away after immersion in the colder water, at least for an hour or two.

Two geese flew off when she arrived, a crow was cawing and the black sheep on the far bank were soaking up the sun as they nibbled on the short green grass. She tried to avoid the breeze by sitting on an incline toward the river with the wind at her back but the wind came around in all directions cooling her neck and face and was only stilled by the sun coming out and reflecting on the fast flowing water.

Beautiful River

Moriah liked the sound of Druid Bernie’s teachings  and was trying to link herself into this bounty of love, he spoke about recently but of course it was not easy. She continued with her meditation as usual and would see if she could feel that cloud of knowing love settle in all around her. 

Old religion and new religion, Love was always part of the mix she mumbled to herself.

Moriah’s mind returned to a recent long dream group  when she was getting stiff and sore from too much sitting. As the meeting finished there was an invitation to say how they were doing. There was a great silence. 

Moriah directed the question to one of her friends, whom she had not checked in with for a few weeks. Her friend said “leave me alone” in a loud voice. Moriah recoiled and tried to hide her feeling of rejection.

Her friend was surprised by the question

When she found Druid Bernie and complained about her friend, the Druid laughed and said this was a wonderful opportunity to practice forgiveness. But what about that feeling she got that her friend’s leg reached across the room and kicked her in the stomach.

Bernie said that she had that feeling only because she had a place in her guts where she hung up all her resentments, and her cupboard was overflowing with over full cups, leaning on her back bone and disturbing her long bones. Those missiles of energy that are flung at her will miss her if there is no hook for them inside. She was reaching out to catch them, from her own special place of angry energy.

Would she ever be able to understand enough to change her anger patterns

How will I improve my anger she whined to the druid? Well you could for a start give back the foot that invades you energetically. You could cover it with red holly berries, and ivy and all kind of decorations and laugh and cut the connection and start seeing the person for who she really is. She is a marvelous woman that fights her way through her own struggles, the same as you.

You forgive her by wishing love, joy and mercy to reign down on  her and in that way, the love, joy and mercy  comes down on you. It is a given that you are forgiven as you forgive her and all your little china cups from the past, full of resentments are emptied out and refilled with light. 

The Druid tried to be helpful

As Moriah lay there on the bank on top of a bed of the big brown cruncy sycamore leaves, some tiny creature found her neck and as it went lower Moriah was a bit frantic.    As she tried to feel its whereabouts on her chest this agile thing evaded her fingers. In meditation she tried to still her body, mind and heart. She abandoned the stillness even as she stayed lying down. When she was sure she had it she came back with one of her long grey hairs but no little creature. She settled some more.

Mandala of struggle

She thought of the old druidic prayer, which had you say “ I am praying to you, my friend. Thank you for doing to me all you have done and I am sorry  for doing to you all that I have done. “ This was followed with “I am praying to you Moriah, Thank you for doing to me all you have done and I am sorry for doing to you all that I have done to you.” There were many days involved with saying this prayer with forty often mentioned. The old Karmic idea that everything had its reasons and acceptance was a good idea. She did not want to carry around her friend’s leg forever. 

She almost fell into the water

She lay on the bank of the river and let her resentment flow off her into that beautiful river, like a flock of geese, all traveling together away from her. As she meditated she felt cushioned on every side in a bed of white mistletoe berries making her feel airborne. She felt pulled out into the blue sky and slipped around in the curtains of blue and green. As she finished up an ant was crawling along the side of her hand. 

Morah’s friend came out to join her and brought some great fruit cake she got from the monks on the Hill of Na Costa. They talked about oil remedies’ for chapped hands, fuzzy hair and blocked up ears.

I will keep my cups cleaned out of anger so there is room for the light than runs over.

Moriah turned over on her stomach and inched down the bank toward the water – she had a lot of clothes on and had to take care she did not fall head first in. It was a balancing act between hugging the ground and letting go enough to relax and not fall in. The warm sun on that leaf strewn crevice was glorious. 

As the evening winter wind got up again so did Moriah and she went her way fortified with the visit with her friend, the sun and with her meditations.

Evening Time

“By the hook and by the crook of it, that is where I am holding my anger.” She said, as she made up her mind to keep the cups cleaned out sending out blessings often and always as needed promising to serve the truth that would make her free.  Love from Rose 

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New Year 01/02/2021

It is the second new day of this year, 2021, connected with jumping Jenny instead of Hopping John and I wondered what I might do. There were a lot of possibilities and I was on my own. I decided to pray/meditate first. Surely I would know what to do after that. 

I thought of the sermon at that rollicking service I attended on New Years Eve night. I was masked and social distanced. The singing was professional and the sermon was great. We laughed and were pulled toward ourselves. My take away was was the question “Am I doing “my father’s business” or something else?” He made the point that we want god’s blessing on our work but it often is not God’s work we are doing. He finished off the sermon with my favorite “The Lord is my Shepherd.”  

From the dream work

I consider my counseling practice and also my writing as the business for me taking me in the right direction, what I am supposed to be doing on this earth, provided I am in my right mind, my right attitude. I like to catch up on writing when I have a few days off. And having fun is the counterbalance to all that work. 

A Holiday greeting Card which speaks to the work I do.

So after meditation this morning I knew for sure I was going toward the water, at Rawley springs. A lot of rain had fallen recently and today was in the fifties and the sun was flirting around in the clouds, often visible. I had no doubt that I was going in the right direction, as I headed out toward the mountains of West Virginia. The river hugged the bottom of the mountain and the sun, while visible was not in my place of standing. I had the intention to read a holy book for an hour. I also speculated that I was meant to meet someone there. I usually find someone to chat to.

the view down the river

I knew that getting into the water was an option – but later. I started to read and my feet were turning to ice in my shoes. I leaned against the wooden railing above the river where the bridge used to be that linked a road across the river, where I moved and stretched my legs until I felt a little thawing out.  I read at the same time.

The view up the river – trying to find the right photo

When I had read about four chapters, my ears were assaulted by a growling dog, which gave me a fright. A youngish man accompanied the dog and I growled at him and his dog. However I checked myself and said I am sure he is the person I came to the river to see and his dog also and had he a dream for me?

Standing above the water – a man and his dog came upon me.

Three other members of the family, parents and a seventeen year old brother came along and the man with the dog asked them if they could appease me with a dream seeing, as their dog almost ate me up. 

The seventeen year old was sacrificed by all his family members who volunteered that he had a dream that morning about being with a bear and the bear acted like a dog, very friendly and cozied up to him. 

From the dream world

The family members laughed a lot as I pinned them down about what the dream could mean. I kept saying that it was very unusual to have such a bear – one that was as tame and friendly as a dog. I have another client who has a lot of bear dreams. I was told that a bear was a symbol of the negative mother image. They laughed even more when I volunteered that information. 

From the dream world

The boy who had the dream was still living at home and I remarked he was still in the nest and that when he left home the bear might change. He said bears could not be domesticated like dogs, as they did not produce quickly. It was all very cozy, cozy. (Some days later the meaning comes to me but this is a public space so I will keep it to myself.)

I said I was going for a dip in a bit and they asked me what I was reading and I said something that helps me go inward and see how and where the chakras, the seven churches are connected to me. I told them a phrase I had just read; “that the voice was as the sound of running water.” We listened to the river below us for a moment.

A voice as of running water

They bade me good-bye and walked a little distance.  Two of them took off their clothes (mostly) and the young man reached high with his arms above and jumped in off a rock and went under. His father equally lean looking walked in and dropped down also. It was a great pleasure to see their lean bodies stretch and jump and go under.

Both got out quickly, with much shouting. The mom and the bear son did not get in. There was plenty of whooping and hollering and I laughed so much as they. I had persuaded them to jump in. It was the most fun I had in ages. 

Rose at Blue Hole last summer when the water was warmer – near where I was today.

I held back and did not ask them if they wanted a baptism. 

They rung out their wet underpants and were on their way following the mother and younger son who gave his white poncho to his Dad. The younger boy had the face of an angel and I wondered afterwards if his dream bear was a white one. 

When I finished reading and stretching,  I put on my swimsuit and had a solitary dip. I went under, hair, ears and all. It was fast and furious and followed by brain freeze. I was redressed and back in my heated car as quick as I could go. I felt renewed, baptized and ready for a New Year. Happy New Year to my readers! I prayed for you this morning. Make sure you are praying for me. Love you all. Rose. 

My secret Santa sent some lovely packages from Missouri and these are the ribbons

Thank you for reading. You can sign up for my blog and it will come to you as an email any time I post. 

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Changing of the Guard

I was meditating in the outside meditation garden at Edgar Cayce’s ARE. The last time I was there in November, I had snuck up to the meditation room on the third floor. I ignored the notice to not go up there. The shop and library were open to the public. I did not understand why the meditation room was out of bounds. The beautiful white and purple crystal type rock cut stones and the monster lapis blue stone from Tibet and the ocean in the distance twinkling were a gift to me. I dreamed once that a huge underground lake underlaid the whole area there. I had a beautiful meditation.

From the Meditation Garden at the ARE

While on the third floor, meditating, I got the idea I had better finish up and sure enough a tall man with a cross face stood over and pointed his finger at me. I asked him if he had a dream. He said he did not and he escorted me off the premises. I had to do a little praying to right myself up again feeling attacked by this volunteer overseeing little old ladies like me.  This visit I heard the meditation room was being redone so I stayed outside. 

As I sat over the goldfish pond, and opened my eyes, I was looking at two trees, covered in blooms, one of red and one of pink. And flying among the blooms was a very small hummingbird, with my eyes just catching the glitter of its green and red coloring. I was very surprised as it was into the third week in December and this little bird had not gone south yet. Perhaps the many blooms were delaying the bird. Maybe it stayed to help with meditators in the garden. 

Many blooms on the ground

I had a beautiful silent time and as I finished up with taking pictures of the blooms, I saw a middle aged woman walk up the path nearby to another building. She was dressed in a smart black coat and long black boots. Her hair was cut in a short boyish cut with a smart fringe falling over her forehead. 

When she came back down those steps, I was already putting on my bike helmet and as is my habit, (I was almost in her way,) I asked her for a dream. She paused, put her feet together, her arms at her side and looked up toward the sky, and said, “Okay then, I do have a dream image for you from last night” She pulled out her black face mask looked into her consciousness and started with” I dreamed I was sitting in a group of five, some from work, including my boss, who said nothing.”

“I knew what I wanted to say, but no matter how I tried I could not find the right words. Then one of the men, who sat beside me let me know that he knew exactly what I wanted to say, but he could not find the words either.”

I asked her if she meditated. She replied she did not, found it hard to still herself, was too “flighty.” She followed with “But I am always “on” as I am a Reike Grand Master and my hands get hot and then I know there is someone nearby who needs my help.” 

Evening light on a marshy place off Shore Drive

She felt the dream was telling her that something has to change at work. She did not pin it down for me and we talked about being able to find the right something to facilitate this change? We chatted a bit more about the inner man helping her but neither of them finding the right word. I suggested she meditate for the number of minutes that corresponded with her age. She said she was now seventy. I was surprised as I thought she looked fifty at most. 

It seemed time for her to go, and she wished she could hug me, as she walked toward me. Then she came behind me, with my permission, and looped her arms around my shoulders, with her heart, her front against my heart my back. It was a delicious backwards hug. 

I asked if her hands were hot now. There was a pause before she said, “Well yes” We broke apart laughing. It was a marvelous bit of humor, and I do consider that she brought healing to me in ways I know not of. God’s blessings come in many different forms. 

When I had an osteopathic adjustment at the Spa, the practitioner was very interested in my dream interpretation and noted that in the Grecian Temples, treatment was based on dreams. People came to sleep at the temples and their dreams were given to the priests of the temples to figure out ways to heal them and the treatments were based on the dreams. He gave a little bow to me as he called me “priest.” My mother once said she saw the priest in me. 

On my bike at the beach – I was there for about six days and it was a retreat for me.

I personally believe that if we ask our dreams for such help, it will be given to us. The voice of our Maker can be heard in our dreams. Believing that this can happen, as well as asking for help is key. 

I wish you a Happy Holidays. Look for your individual relationship to Spirit, keep hammering away until you have distilled a concept of your link to your Maker. This is where happiness comes from.

As I keep splicing into my prayers to connect me to ‘where I come from’ as I still my body, my mind and my heart, I can feel those promptings from the heart, toward peace, patience, love and understanding that belongs to where I come from, from my Maker.

A little mandala face

Feel that pouring forth in the stillness, until that river of pure crystal flows and what was rock solid becomes flowing down all around you. (A young woman client told me that she felt this in a meditation recently.) I had this experience many years ago and wrote a poem about it saying “water falling down a dress.” The image came to me while meditating in my sunroom in Belmont about thirty years ago. Love from Rose. 

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Oh Shenandoah, I hear you Calling

Last Saturday, I went to sit by the Shenandoah river with my friend, that has that place as her favorite recreational visiting spot. We travel the ten miles out from the city toward Port Republic. We travel in separate cars, because of social distancing. The river is wide and slopes into a deeper center. There is a lovely green space, a bank,  that is about five feet above that rolling river. 

Some old fallen tree pieces are near the bank

There I set up camp, with my blue yoga mats. It is early afternoon where I finish my lunch. I pull out my painting supplies and play with a picture I wanted to put some contrast into. My friend plays with her phone. She puts on her wide brimmed hat and leans back with her eyes closed.

We walk around the property together and chat. The sun is over the river and the wind dies down after an hour. The sky is blue and the Baltimore Orioles nest can be seen in the naked branches of the big sycamore tree above. The trunk of the tree is wide enough to block some breeze. 

On the walk around we stopped to look at the trees we encountered and especially a cedar tree that would provide lovely shade in the summer. I saw a tiny beautiful claw of a marsupial reminding us of nature and its secret life by the river. A farmer is riding around on a large machine across in the fields on the other side. The Friesian black and white cattle are in the distance.

When I had reached my walking limit my friend went off walking for a second time around the property. She was carrying her field glasses. Last summer she saw the eagles nesting across the river. I heard a bird singing an unidentified song but did not see the bird. 

My skid marks back down into the water.

When my friend left, I took the opportunity to get into the river. I left my towel near by and slid down the bank into a mixture of muck and sand on the bottom. I was up to my knees with grey clouds of silt climbing toward my knees. It was cold but not intolerable. I splashed that holy water all over and reached out toward the deeper spot and swam in a quick circle. My mouth shot opened wide with the shock and water flowed in and down my neck before I could close it again. 

You can see the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance

Getting back out of the river, driven back by the shock and cold, I searched for a footing, stuck my knee and other foot into the bank and pulled on some grass to raise myself out of the water. My knees and foot had other ideas and I slowly slid back down into a standing position in the water. The shock was wearing off, so I swam around again in the deeper water. I took the slide back as a sign that I was not finished with the beautiful river. 

The next time, I picked a better, more slanting place and pulled up and away out of the water carrying a fine layer of muck on my right foot especially. I dried off a bit, and not being encumbered with much in the way of cold wet clingy clothes, I was back in my warm dry woolens in no time. 

My camp by the river

The feeling of reset, good feeling is profound after such a dip. I always obey the pull of the ground into the water. I sense its holiness, its gift to me and to the earth. What would we do without such a mother flowing through our Shenandoah Valley? I look forward to the day that honoring the River, for the divine Goddess she is, will be fashionable. All water is pure, we just have to stop abusing it with our waste products of all sorts. 

Gold in the setting sun over the river

The sun was fast approaching the opposite bank and was shining on to the rise above it across the river. We packed up, my friend to get special kitty litter that her cat liked and me to sit at the bottom of a wide trunked tree further up the bank. The golden sun was still above the horizon and as I sat my friend photographed me.

In the silence that followed I settled into my meditation. I was doing a breathing exercise to begin, in which I looked to the end of my nose. There I saw golden threads playing around my nose that were surely children of that setting sun. 

As the sun quickly set the gold was gone and I prayed for the leaders of nations, especially our own, those who have no one to pray for them, the dead and dying from Covid 19, my relatives, and anyone else who came to mind. I also send out light, love and healing to all my readers. (And now ask that you do the same for me. It was help everything greatly.)

Sitting for mediation at the bottom of a tree above the river.

When I got home, I was reluctant to wash off my feet and kept my little white socks on all night to remind myself of who I am and where I had been that evening. Of course a little of the earth from the sacred Shenandoah River in my house will only make my house holy. 

I dreamed of being chased around by a tall blond young man who is trying to get me to acknowledge that I have diamonds in my right hand. I am a little scared of taking this into account. May the diamonds of my dream become a real feeling in the palm of my hand and when I put it to a shoulder of a friend or client, may it bring in the light that is always available to us, should we only ask to be open to it. 

“Drop down and let go” I keep chanting to myself, as I press on pressure points in the night freeing myself to be a better vessel for what is possible to be. Rotating myself, like an antenna until I am all the way around right, so that the light from above, from my Maker can glance off me like the sun glanced off my nose at the river. Love you all. Rose. 

Trying to put a little contrast into this image – a watercolor I started at another river.

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Moriah Grapples with Scapegoating

Moriah knew about the rituals of scapegoating.  What started out as a ritual of putting all the blame for evil onto the head of one person and murdering them was no longer practiced. It moved into the idea that a goat could do just as well and the goat was led out into the wilderness, the bog or some such place and sacrificed in some way for the sin of others. 

Moriah was certain she was blamed and then shunned for some small grains of sand. Her good friend, who had a small place at Galway Bay scapegoated her once. Moriah loved to go there. But she became uninvited for depositing little mounds of sand all over her friend’s thatched cottage.  Moriah liked to swim in the cold water and dressing and leaving the sandy beach was impossible not to bring sand on her self and in her shoes. Nothing was said to Moriah about her great catastrophic errors of the sand, but Moriah was never invited back. They remained friends, as heir house were in the same village. 

The cottage

Over the years, Moriah would hear of all those invited to the place by the beach but she had to hang her head with the closing of this avenue to the beach for her. No body seemed to want to get into the sand of that dune and eke out the jewels of fractured relationship to be found there, least of all Moriah.

The reason that this all came back to her again is that this same friend came to her to tell her, Moriah, what sounded like a very positive dream. In the dream Moriah, was interpreted to represent a playful mystic to her friend. The dreamer, her friend, was told by her interpreter, that she should be more like Moriah.

Mandala

The story and the sand deposits came out with the telling of the dream. For some reason Moriah had a feeling she was slapped around the mouth as she was told this “delightful dream about herself” because of all the bad feelings of exclusion and being blamed over the years because of those gains of sand.

She had been thinking about scapegoating and she wondered how this meshed in with this dream story. How was blame shifted from one to the other in order to make the other feel good and how had she managed to be cast off as the scapegoated friend, when it came to the beach?

Moriah decided to bring it to Druid Bernie’s the next time they sat under the hedge and tossed up such things in the air to see where they would land.

When the class had dispersed and she had her favorite teacher and relative to herself, she gave him some lunch and told him of her feelings about scapegoating.

He said that the old way was to put the blame on others. Now there is a new way and that was to love your neighbor, with your whole heart and soul and your creator also, which translates into loving the ones that blame you.

Moriah was a bit shocked at this idea of a law that brought peace and tranquilly if you could practice loving those who you felt hurt you.

“It all goes back to the idea that we are all one, and we are your brother’s keeper, and that everyone is saved in the end, and you do not have to fix anyone, except yourself. Your friend, your sister needs to move forward on the path toward love and you will not help her while you are sending her lots of angry and mad thoughts.”

Just then one of Moriah’s back teeth got stuck on her special bread and popped out. She quietly spat it out but not before Druid Bernie noticed. He thought all her complaining about everything over the years might be responsible. Moriah thought some more about that slapping around her mouth and began to wonder was it a self-inflicted slapping, due to the amount of time she had squandered thinking about others and what she perceived about being excluded. It might have been better to avoid all that teeth grinding. She would keep the tooth. Perhaps the dwarves would be able to fix it back in.

The front teeth hiding the bad back one

“You mean that I have to sit down and get out of my head about my friend, and in that space, I have to listen for the voice of my maker, and in that way feel a change in my heart, until I can look her way and smile and wish her the very best.”

“Yes, yes, now you are getting it. When you feel that smile coming onto your face, after sitting with the body, mind and heart in silence, after you have brought down something from above, now you have something powerful to give. When you send this blessing out to her, you are helping her through the spirit of the one who made it all. You do not have to fix her or hate her but in that sweet moment bless her. The voice of your maker can speak to you through dream or vision, through image or drawing and/or in meditation.Just turn yourself in the right direction and that shining light from above will shine into you.” 

Speaking with the Druid had calmed her and they pulled some wooden logs near the fire and sat on them and put their feet out in front, as the embers cooled. 

  

The Druid suggested they meditate for twenty minutes more or less and they sat up straight and closed their eyes and the Druid made some invocations to the Maker of it all. Moriah kept coming back to the thought of listening for the voice of her maker. She felt a distinctive movement between her head and her heart,  that moved out beyond the top of her head, that joined with her breathing in her chest. She never felt it before and knew this movement blessed her. 

The bird flying over the pure springs

She fell into a vision after a bit and saw a beautiful bird over some water, springing up through light colored pebbles. The voice of her creator for her in that moment was held in that water of life, in the flight of her soul bird to find her now.

When she looked around she saw the Druid turning the corner at the end of the lane. As his robe vanished around the corner she thought about his teaching, and bowed her head to try and catch the humility of a blessing for her friend. She would send her a card; she would make her a wreath. The end. 

Early in the morning my hair can look somewhat astray

This blog was updated next day to include the paragraph about the fallen out tooth.

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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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