Rose Longworth Counseling

Our Own Prayer Wheels

Posted on February 17, 2020 by rlongwort

Silver Lake and the Prayer Wheel.

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

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

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

This image was on display in Richmond Gallery

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

At the Spa

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

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

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

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

Chanting and Enchanted

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

Bone Dreaming and Breathing

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted in Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged crows, dreams and drawings, harrisonburg, hawk, local gossip, prayer wheels, Silver Lake, Watercolors | Leave a comment

Healing Dreams and Creative Writing

Posted on February 12, 2020 by rlongwort

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lines Composed Above the River 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Dream of Doors

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

Lovely Weather

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

Silver Lake last Sunday – sunny and breezy.

A Wish for You.

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

The wind is always trying to mess with my hair.

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

Posted in Dream Counseling, Mandala, Psychoanalytic | Tagged Bonsai, creative writing, dream of doors, healing circle | Leave a comment

Inner Knowledge to be found in Books

Posted on January 29, 2020 by rlongwort

We drew mandala and sang at the meeting which I led. We laughed a lot.

I am part of a Bible Study Group. I read the bible through twice around the time my first child was born but I did not follow through with this practice. However I studied Revelation (the last book in the bible) many times and read all the books on Revelation, based on the Edgar Cayce readings, to try and understand myself, my seven chakras, as they are related to the seven churches in Revelation. For me Revelation is the triumph of Good over Evil.

Mandala represents inner conditions in the Psyche

On the advice of Cayce, I sometimes read Revelation for the healing ability it will bring to me, as I deal with something difficult in the mental field. I put it on tape a time or too and listened to it many times in my life. I sang certain phrases as mantra sometimes. Words like “I will give you the morning star” makes reference to the heart and love. The final chapter is full of good promises.

Reading Revelation becomes a journey for me, at times wanting to do something else, or wanting to fall dead asleep, but when I persist I feel like I have meditated by the time I have finished. It takes just over an hour to read. That is always a good thing for me to drop into, a calmness that helps in dealing with the problems that come to me from others.

One of the lines in the last chapter makes reference to the “river of pure crystal.” The year before my old friend Maria died she dreamed that her living room was full of beautiful crystal that was being measured. I always felt she measured up in really good ways, being true to whom she was, making her own individual choices, as she went along. I was one of those choices she made that I would be good friends with her. I learned a lot from her and felt her love and acceptance. We were both immigrants to this lovely land.

Ballac was not popular with God it seemed.

I was fascinated by the story of Job and the Jungian commentaries that have come my way on that(Jungs answer to Job.) Other books and stories from the Bible, I have studied randomly, as I found references to them in other books. Ballack and Ballam are referenced in Revelation. The talking donkey in the Bible caught my attention for a few weeks. I say or sing the twenty third Psalm and the Our Father daily as bookends to my meditation practice.

Ballam was also not too popular with God

In our Bible study last week, we got into such issues as sin and what it meant for our leader personally. We had a lot of fun as a huge bluebottle, flew around the room lurching out of some hidden place. I tried to stay focused as I dealt with murderous feelings for the fly.

Putting blessings on all those that irritate me would be a good start to the New Year. The driver that almost came into my lane caused me to adjust quickly. We blew horns at each other for a bit. As she turned onto the I-81 exit I though of the blessing. I did not want to be responsible for any furthering wavering on her part especially on the highway.

Putting out her arm for the butterfly blessing

I chose not to give a burst of horn, as she went by, as I was blessing her but she took the opportunity to give me a final blast. She was gone and I gave a final blast into nothingness. It is hard to hold steady with that blessing.

Then there is the man who hit me on the head as I swam in the pool, who found it hard to stop what he was doing to see if I was ok. I said that he ran into me. He said “You can run into me any time.” I though I had put that incident away and blessed him too.

A little hit on the head made me want to go legal but I am back to the blessing I hope.

But there he, a few days later, telling the story, within my ear-shot, and talking about me, saying that I had “accosted him.” I then informed him he was talking about me, and he put his arm around me. I soon found I was back in square one without any blessing for him.

I may have forgotten the dream but I drew this representation last Sunday – maybe it will come back to me.

But I know that within my meditation, after I have raised some energy though my practice, I can send the blessings again. It would be even better to obey the injunction to “Love your enemies” in the moment. I have felt the freedom that comes from praying for someone in the moment and not having to rehash the story again and again, especially at night when the dark is down and rehash is the name of the game. I want to avoid sending negative energy toward the offender. Can we put out those fires in ourselves?

LITTLE FIRES OF ANGER CAN BECOME BIG FIRES EASILY

In my outer life there is a wild cat that frequents my front porch. A car has injured the cat, I think. He likes the rugs on my porch and as his private parts are injured he creates a great stink when he settles on my porch for any amount of time. He thinks the easiest way though my porch is over the couch. It is mostly covered well but the wind has been at work and I see his tracks and his splashes and smell the smell.

My neighbor feeds him and hopes he will recover naturally.

In the meantime I have to consider this cat as some kind of an unconscious image,representing a softer feminine side. I have to ask if my feminine side is getting a look in, as I live my life or is it injured and causing a stink? That cat gives me pause as I push too hard in many directions. Can I accept all that comes my way in humility? Keep in touch with the strength of my inner woman as well as have strength to hold boundaries for myself? Am I healing myself? I am now praying for the cat.

Finding the blessing for everything that irritates you

Please sign up for my blog on this site. It will come to your inbox, when ever I post. I look forward to hearing from you. I am also taking new clients at my home office. Please plan to bring one to three dreams with you and we will be off and running into what will make you compete and more whole. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

A windy snowy wintery day a few weeks ago. – We are having better than average weather this month.

Posted in Dream Counseling, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged Bible stories, Cats, dreams, Interpretation, Mandala, Revelation | Leave a comment

New Year’s Day at the River

Posted on January 17, 2020 by rlongwort

You will not believe this, but I went for a polar plunge into a swimming hole, in Black Run River, six feet deep at its deepest, on New Year’s Day. I went there to be at water on this first day of the year. It was in the forties and cold and I walked back and forth on the stony edge unable to get myself to put my already cold feet into the water.

There is the start of a bridge at the side of the stream. Beyond the beginnings of the bridge, no longer going across the stream, somebody was sitting out of sight except her two blue legs and her brown boots behind a nook that hid the rest of her

My neighbor was doing some contemplation just beyond this point.

I wanted to include some art in that first day of the year, so I tried to sketch the river. The rocks were so many, the distance too much, the stream so moving. Putting in the blue legs and brown boots was the easy part.

I saw her pick up her cloth bag, and climb up on to the remains of the bridge and soon we were chatting, she with a lovely smile and pleasant, as she spoke to me. I told her of my plan to fall into the water and she said that once she was in Patagonia surrounded by glacial lakes. She knew how cold they would be. She had to go for a polar swim there, as it was unlikely she would ever go back to that particular part of South America again.

She agreed to put some pictures on my phone, as I went in to the water and I was sold on getting in with my shoes and swimsuit on. I came prepared. I swam out in a circle, felt the bottom and decided to drop down to cover my head. What baptism is complete without dunking the head underneath; to wash away iniquity, cleanse me from my sins. In my distracted moment of being frozen and shocked, I forgot my prayers but that intention was there underneath the laughter that rocked me as I got out again.

I was full of laughter as I wrapped myself up

I persuaded her to go in also as she told me her job was a teacher and her business was a Forest School. She is out in nature all the time with her students.

She noted she had gotten frostbite on her feet in the past and had to be careful with the cold. She went in to the water with her beanie on her head. We exchanged telephone numbers. It turned out we are near neighbors.

January is one third gone. The moon is almost full again and I had a few dreams as usually happens when the moon is waxing. The dreams and the moonlight came in a skylight and landed on my face waking me up. I was highly pleased to think the moon had settled on me in this way.

My first dream was that my old mentor is telling me she likes my house but pity about the neighborhood. The next one of my dreams was of being in India and looking for the toilet bowl. I was having a hard time finding it. There was a man guarding the space but I did not see the needed commode. The next dream was of a basement with a wonderful bright green paint color on the walls. There was a bank of windows down there also. I could see out to the forest outside and the outside and inside blended beautifully. There were plants inside also.

Those first two dreams unsettle me, meaning I have to examine what I am bringing in to the neighborhood of myself that makes it “a pity.” My inner man, as represented by my father’s opinions that will not serve me now. The dreams are telling me of unbalance in my psyche which effects my health and my mental state.

Beautiful balance in this horse and carriage on the road by Silver Lake

The dream of the commode brings me to the place that carries away waste products from the psyche. My inner man(opinions) is preventing me finding that place. Also being intuitive about what I eat and making time for meals will serve me better than rushing down a huge bowl of something while on the run somewhere The image of the man that unstuck my feet from another dream is the opposite from the male in the dream above. He was such a helpful dream image.

I can ask what is stopping me releasing something I have to let go of. It can be physical as well as spiritual blocks. The second one brings me to India, which brings me to spiritual practices and I may need to release some thinking in order to let go of the way I am using my mental and emotional abilities.

That last dream about that wonderful green color, a color I think is associated with the heart, gives me encouragement. That the color is downstairs in the basement, in the unconscious may be a good thing. That there is growing plants within my individual space and also outside in the collective space is something to notice. I love windows and the bank of windows blend the inside and outside also. There is some protection there too from the glass windows.

Tree root above the old washed out river bridge – with green light in the starry moss

I will buy some of this “green light color” and look to see what new paints I need for the New Year. Doing something to salute a new dream is always a good idea as the unconscious will continue to interact with me in the dreams bringing me to what I need to work with next, and correcting what needs attention in my journey so far.

The full moon is waning now. I wish you good recall of the dreams we all are having and in this way I will get good recall myself. I will pray for you and as you can see from my blogs, while I have a focus, I often fall off the wagon of learning and into old stuck places. I need any and all prayers I can get. Thanks so much and Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged dreams, New Year Day Swim | Leave a comment

New Year’s Day 2020

Posted on January 1, 2020 by rlongwort

I met a young man in his mid twenties over a week ago. He told me his story of how he was criss-crossing America in honor of his deceased father, who was a truck driver. He said he was going to spread his father’s ashes in different places where his father travelled in America. His 1940’s moter bike is currently in Texas and his friend invited him to Harrisonburg for the Holidays. He said his father worked hard to support him and his mother all his life.

He had a connection to making film and wanted to interview me about my life and he asked me about dreams and meditation and finally got to the question of energy.

I have no idea what I said on that short film about energy but when that Short story below came up a few days later, I connected it to the question of energy.

Short Christmas Story

(First told to me by my friend’s daughter on the occasion of a conversation about energy.)

The old man just over ninety, said it would be the last year he would be hosting Christmas dinner at the home he lived in for many years. He would try and sell the home of many years, where he raised children, had vast gardens, and molded his home into beautiful presentation. This announcement has a heavy chilling effect on the following two generations present, now gathered with their array of potluck dishes spread before them. Their red and festive clothes, their favorite and juicy dishes could not pull the mood away from this impending doom.

When his daughter and his granddaughter, now thirty-three, were cleaning up the very last vestiges of the meal and the gathering, when most people had left for home, something unusual happened in one of the rooms.

There were two candlesticks and an old music box on the table in one of the sitting rooms reflected in the mahogany patina. As the two women went past the pocket doors, their high heels clacking on the golden wood, both carrying what has to be put away, after such a large gathering, they were both arrested mid step as that old music box started to turn, filling the air with the sweet melody of years gone past. This music box had sat silent since the grandmother had died refusing to be wound up and refusing to play.

In astonishment the younger woman looked at her aunt, who laughed and said that is “just grandma.” She loved music and had a lightness of spirit that came in to let her granddaughter know she was not to loose the joy of life and that a place, such as that old magnificent mansion, was not the holder of joy, but the people gracing the spaces were the only ones who carried mood and joy in together with their dishes and their festive clothes and airs.

As the granddaughter sat there in the golden morning sunshine telling me her story about this energetic happing she gathered meaning for herself from this joyous event that just happened to her and her aunt. A realization comes up through her that she does not have control over her life in many ways, but she is striving after making up her own joy now. The one thing she can see is that her grandmother brought marvelous mood to the holidays. Her love of music and that of her grandmother has brought joy and happiness to the holiday gatherings. It was enough to set the music box to twirling out the old and beautiful tune that link the finite with the infinite, the living and the ancestor, the past and the future. The end.

I hope I do a little traveling again in 2020

It is New Years Day 2020 here and I want to try and squeeze in everything I want to continue with for the rest of 2020.

I meditated in the early hours and felt my energy spreading out into a oneness with the infinite spirit. However brief a few seconds that was, before my conscious mind dragged me back to my thoughts, I am glad that that happened to me, to get my New Year off to a lovely ecstatic start.

I head a sound of breaking glass that was loud enough for me to think it was outside myself. It was accompanied with the sight of a starburst. A lighted center, from which came many prongs of light. It was of the dream world, a little vision, but I like to be amused with playing with the idea that something is breaking out inside, connected to the light.

The dream I had was of a baby, still very young. I saw a baby at work, still sitting on the lap mostly, but also almost walking, seven months old. In my dream the baby looks lovely. I seem to be caring for it, but not very well. As it falls I reach out and steady it enough for it not to hurt itself as it falls down. I think it happened twoice in the dream, this falling down. Now when I am exercising I like to think this baby is on my body, or that I am holding it, or that I am being held like a baby. It feels good to keep the image alive with me as I go about my day.

On my own this holiday season, mostly, it is easy to fall into the feelings of aloneness, waiting for others to bail me out or to binge watch old episodes on TV. But today, the first day of the rest of my life and the New Year, I am vigilant to only let in what I want to continue with in my life. I meditated after 3.00 am. I exercised. I cooked buckwheat cakes that filled the house with good smells. I have plans to visit the river. This is my writing. And I will paint a little and be outside while I do it, preferably at the river.

I wish you all a great upcoming year my friends. Keep praying for me and I will pray we all may go straight forward wherever the spirit leads. All Love Surround you Always.

Posted in meditation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged dream, meditation, story of music box | Leave a comment

Christmas Poetry Group

Posted on December 28, 2019 by rlongwort

I went to poetry group yesterday. Before group I listened to a long phone conversation, where the woman is telling the man many things to do. I listened to his consternation, audible on the other side of the phone, his unbelief that he had to take care of two sets of newly born kittens and make sure they were warm and fed.

She encouraged and coached him to hold the kitten to the mama cats’ nipples and to bath them in warm water and blow dry them if necessary to keep them warm and fed. She had a few other requests which went from cleaning out something stink in the fridge, to washing the cat rags after the birth and finally calling the town hall about an e-mail that went astray.

When our leader came she reported that she was delayed by dump and recycling concerns. She brought us a Christmas poem, which included the line that the oxen kneeled at the birth of Jesus. She answered some questions about the ability of the poem to bring us to something out of the ordinary, to have us fall into hope, to be lifted up. She quoted two lines from the end of the poem “The Collar.” In the poem, a priest is complaining deeply to God about his life and his profession and how hard it all is for him. His concluding lines approximately were; “Me thought I heard a voice say “child” and I answered “My Lord.”

I had a strong visceral reaction to the two lines above, as if something reined down on me from above and turned over in me what needed to be righted in my Solar Plexus. Shivers went all over me, as if I was the “child,” being acknowledged by God. I was caught in the net of the speaker, the words and my listening self. I kept repeating the lines all day in wonderment at their ability to move me so.

Later when I went over this story with a friend, the same thing happened again, accompanied by shivers. The listener then said, she might have come out that evening especially to hear the “Collar.” On that same evening she had come through a car accident when two deer dashed out in front of her and went between her car and another on a narrow dark country road.

A young man in his mid thirties said he is happy but his joy is gone. He thought he had it when cycling on the west coast of America, young and fancy free. While talking in this way he is looking in an old album and finds something that brings him back to his teens, a time when he wrote out what it was that would bring him joy. It is the necessary search of the second half of his life where his soul work has to be included in his life work in order to give him meaning. All he needs is that intention, that childlike intention, and it will bring him the dreams and the intuitions that will bring him back to his joy.

And there is that wondering in me about what exactly the collared priest would have said to his God to whom he had devoted his life… Perhaps it was thirty pages long!

The Priest’s Complaints

“I am here for mass and confessions and now look out at the crowd of serious faces, looking to my direction, so that I would look up to you oh God, for them. They come with their deep suffering and want me, a little man, to lift it all up. How useless I feel in that moment. I hear their sins and I attend to their deaths. I have no joy left in me.

What do I have from you Oh God, that goes through me to kick start their fires deep inside for burning their souls clean, for claiming their souls again!

I am your Man standing there, my feet frozen on the marble slabs waiting for the Net of Indra to raise off of everyone, that filament of hard tack that keeps their noses down on this big grind stone of life. I am their central pole having to hold it all up for you, for them. I need them all to be priests and I need them to hold up their own umbrellas and have courage to own their own souls again.

As I sit here resting, in that little space to call my own, on the marble chair on the side of the alter, I your priest am transported to the ocean, looking at the waves on the western seaboard of Ireland. I know I have to step onto my carrack with my own little oars and have to navigate the storm that life is for me. My little hallowed out log boat is bobbing about on the high waves of life. And I am asking you “will you take care of me?”

In the silence after the concretion of the mass I hear the word “child” and I fall on my knees, bow my head to the ground and say “Oh my Lord.”

Then I get up and ask the congregation to bow their heads for God’s blessing knowing that the blessing of God will come through me. “Go in Peace to Love and Serve the Lord.” The end.

I find myself on the far side of Christmas as I conclude these lines. I hope you are happy in your lot and in your life accepting all and pulling joy from the air around you and making clear your intentions for the New Year. I intend to write more,

more helpfully, be more in service and catch on to myself. I love the simplicity of the two lines above and their ability to ground me into joy. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Love from Rose.

I spent a lovely sunny afternoon at Rockfish Gap.

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Posted in Psychoanalytic | Tagged poetry group | Leave a comment

Mariah and the Butterfly Dreams

Posted on December 19, 2019 by rlongwort

Mariah was now living on her own for some time and while she was not overly happy about this situation she was not sad either. Winter had set in and she was going around in an inordinate amount of clothes, so much so, that she was in danger of becoming a pile of warm woolen rags. Sometimes her leg got caught in her skirts and would not go in or go out as she teetered on the brink of falling over into a bag of barley she had acquired.

When the weather was rainy she liked to set off the turf fire and cook up some barley cakes and wait for a leathery crust to form all around the soft insides and enjoy herself, not knowing when to stop her eating. The warmth and the sweetness filled her to overflowing with no indications of being too full until she was a few cakes too many inside.

She had one too many cabbages to deal with and was suspicious that too much cabbage was not good for her aches and pains. At the same time, she always ate cabbages when young and was reluctant to see the cabbages rot right in front of her.

She got a recipe last year, for the cabbages, from Druid Bernie who wanted her to make some for him also. It involved grating up cabbages, and mixing them up and then putting a little salty water on top and every day for five days pushing down the contents daily to get the air out, so the veggies would safely ferment. She found she likes this mix-up of vegetables and they lasted in her cold larder during the winter months.

She had a big dream of being in Druid Bernie’s kitchen, when she sees an enormous butterfly, about four times that of normal size, near her. She puts out and raises her arm and this butterfly lands on her arm as her eye rods adjust to seeing this butterfly, which is mostly whitish with black outlines on it and some decoration in black. The butterfly walks up her arm and stops at her throat and all the while she hears the butterfly breathing. Then she brings it over to a friend and the butterfly does the same thing again, breathing and going up to her friend’s throat.

Then there is some argument between the two women, about Mariah having to do some writing, but Mariah wants to leave it on her friend to do the writing. Her friend is sitting on a tallish stool and she says she cannot, as her hip is hurting her.

The butterfly trying to climb in her mouth

Mariah recalled another recent dream where a butterfly is trying to enter her mouth and she woke up as it was happening.

She would drag these dreams off to her dream group and see if she could settle out what they were about. She thought they were linked to her laziness for writing certain books and how she often lets herself off the hook paying attention only to her aches and pains. She resolved to write in short spurts and see where that got her.

Druid Bernie had not been around for a while, as he had not come back from his autumn wanderings. She was hoping he would come back so she could discuss with him the big changes in her life and get some input from him. She found herself bragging on how she was no longer living with Uishneach and at the same time, not feeling good about such bragging. She knew that something nearer the truth would be that she was pushed into living alone from a deep impulse inside, which left her time for her prayers and meditation.

She was spending more alone time along by the river and writing and watching the moon and dipping into the river. She was also getting time to meditate in the night or in the morning when she had the time to herself.

Her hip bones and knees were a little better behaved with less pain

She was going more on intuition relating to what she was eating and feeling good in general. She also had time for some body work where she used heated stones to move those complex muscle lumps from her thigh releasing her hip bones and her ingrown toenail into not hurting her half as much.

His lips were close to her lips in the dream

She had been writing about an imaginary lover, mostly inner man, and thought she had a few more limes to write. She dreamed of him on the solstice night, the darkest night in the whole year. He was in bed beside her and Mariah asked him how he got in, as she had two locked doors between her and air outside. It gave her a fright as she perused his lips so near to her own. He said one of her daughters let him in. Her dream went on to have him morph into a skinny guy that was not unlike her father. She had to think again about this sameness between her inner man and her father. Perhaps she was carrying around more of his images and influences than she would like. The end.

I hope you can enjoy the above winter story. While it is the darkest time of the year , there is so much more time to be in moonlight, starlight and for dreaming and imagination. I wish you all the best holiday greetings, and a great openness to love, what ever your persuasion. Keep praying for me and I am praying regularly for my readers. Love from Rose.

Happy Christmas – Artwork by Miriam completed many years ago.

Ps Please sign up for my blog on site and it will come to you as an e-mail whenever I post a blog. I also appreciate comments and shares on Facebook. Thanks you so much.

Posted in dreams, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged dreams and drawings, Leprechaun story, Watercolors | Leave a comment

Anger Management Group – Patience and Wrath.

Posted on December 12, 2019 by rlongwort

Anger Management Group – Patience and Wrath.

Over the years I have sat in many anger management groups, including two a week for the last eighteen months plus. I also ran an anger management group in the Community Services Board for about four years. Most of those attending were court ordered.

Looking through the November Window where I work two days a week.

I can say that I have and do love all the clients that attend. I especially love the interactions between the members, where they become the teachers to each other.

So many have been so badly treated in childhood by angry parents and other trusted individuals. .

What cross purposes in the sky last Sunday?

I have used various sheets, to help the process along and give us a focus for the 60 or 90 minutes as the case may be. Sometimes I found them very helpful and at other times had to depend on my clients to say how the material applied to them. They bravely answered questions that I did not even know were hidden in there in the materials and in the people attending.

Recently as we discussed what had occurred to cause anger in the previous week, the words that came up were wrath and patience.

Now wrath is a resentful type of anger and patience, in the ancient sense is the “ability to suffer.”

Someone might be looking for a way to work through their anger but fails to see that is what the class is for. As far as they are concerned, we are useless to them, especially as they grapple with the court ordered piece of the class, failing to see we are the messengers of the anger management group and are not the courts and their orders.

A meditation candle patiently burns and in this case has acquired a little dress for the flame.

As time goes by however, we all settle into this rolling group which becomes a unit as some point as three or four or five start near the same time and they get to know each other and generously share their circumstances, not holding back at all. Good advice is also given out unexpectedly by clients, sharing what works for them, helping one and all.

Working on the unit about empathy, brought up the advice for a man to say to his wife that what he did hurt her. When he came back the next week, he shared that she stopped giving him a hard time over what he had done, just because he listened to her one time and acknowledged that what he had done, hurt her. We could all try this approach of acknowledging out part in a conflict, and noting that our actions did hurt the other person, deeply sometimes.

When one young man said he was looking for other anger management help, he found there was little on offer, and when he found one, they were booked up for a long time. I felt the slur on my offerings but let it slide on for a moment. Then I said to myself, he thinks little of my anger management group, why don’t I confront him about what he did to make his girlfriend angrier that ever.

“At any point before making the call, did you consider that this would not help your case and give you what you wanted.” He immediately went into why he had to set the world to rights in this case and say what he thought.

Sometimes we get red in the face when our buttons are pushed and if we are pushing other people’s buttons.

Other client said that he should not have allowed her to push his buttons, that she never lets others do that to her. Another said that he “sucks up” in order to get where he wants in relation to having time with his children. He was able to get a good custody arrangement and mostly what he wanted.

I mumbled that when it comes to anger, we all have to find what works for us. If we fall on our faces, we have to get up and try something else. If we always do what we always do, we cannot expect things to change.

Ancestral inheritance plays its part also and the young man later thought of his grandmother and how she was. Anger is a learned behavior we are told.

Watercolor – inner person- maybe ancestor representation.

I might say that we came into the world to work on such issues as our anger. That patience is a part of possession of our souls and that this possession comes through suffering the other person to be the way they are until they see differently. We do not seem to be in charge of how the other person is acting. Walking away works for so many people.

Toward the end of his life, my father said he found his anger very difficult. I was helping/watching him dose a calf. His method was to put the medicine in a smallish bottle that he held in his hand. Then he would put it in the calf’s mouth and hold the animal steady as it drained down the throat. Naturally the calf thought this was not something he could comply with and he pushed with all his might and his tongue to stop the medicine going down.

Evening sky over Mole Hill – farmland all.

When my father lost his temper he almost pushed the bottle down the calve’s neck completely. I stood by, seeing with horror, the bottle almost disappear down the calve’s neck. The calf helped cough it up and the medicine was gone down. That was when my father said “I have been trying all my life to manage my anger.” The following summer he was dead, lifted out of this life and his animal husbandry.

Often but not always liquor or drugs may have a hand on the dreaded punishments from the courts. I like to drag on that a little and sometimes the client will clean up their act completely, and other times they are determined to keep on keeping on with the booze. My training in motivational interviewing comes in handy as I flex those muscles of trying to motivate them into change. In these cases I need a lot of patience as I watch body language that tells me the client wants to block out completely what I just said.I gain a good rapport with them and the other clients sometimes help by telling how the substance abuse had harmed them and how they are managing their life much better without it.

Walking out by the farmland near Stanton in Virginia

Thank you for being on this journey with me in the anger management department. I always have to keep an eye on my temper, on the road and in other arenas. Please sign up for my blog and also share as that is the one way of getting my works out. Please pray for ma and I am praying for you as I sit in the light of the full moon coming in through my skylight. Love from Rose.

Posted in Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged Anger Management | 2 Comments

The Case of the Heart

Posted on December 1, 2019 by rlongwort

I awoke at 4.26 am last night and considered I had enough sleep and I could meditate. Toward the end of my meditation I made the prayer about creating in me a pure heart. It is an affirmation from the Edgar Cayce reading and I had committed it to memory many years ago.

Before going to sleep, I had just read of a woman, who had a dream about Jesus offering her a new heart if she would agree to accept it.

After my meditation, I went back to sleep and had this dream:

My ex and I are together in a room. We had left out last digs and arrived at our new ones. Then I realize that I have left an off-green colored case behind, as I had not checked out one of the rooms properly. I just know it is back there and also know I am not going back for it. There is the complication of some pure white clothes, which I am wondering what to do with.

I concluded that the dream is about the heart, as the case is in the green color and the other woman’s dream is about the heart and I said the prayer relating to the heart. That was my intuitive leap.

While I am meditating later in the morning at my little church, I focus on the dream some and think of Jesus talking to me about it. He helps me into my new white clothes. He shows me the other beautiful green of the pure true heart. He is sending his energy down into the ground and connects with the mother there that rides on the sweet secret streams of light sending up all that is green that grows on the earth. Then he lifts up his arms and pulls down all that is light from above and the both meet in the heart chakra, sending it around, a great prayer wheel, grinding all that has to go including that off color green case.

Water diverted away from the water wheel- the wheel is toward the right of the photo below

After church I leave for Dayton Lake as the sky is so blue and the sun is shining. I settle close to the waterfall. I know I want to write.

I find a ledge, a little below the lake and the worst of the breeze and I am dressed warmly in my blue layers and have found some towels destined for the second hand store in the boot of my car and am comfortably sitting on them.

As I am sitting there lots of horse and buggies go past, some on the bridge below where I sit and many others on the road behind me, by the side of the lake. The horses’ tails and manes fly out behind them in the breeze. They are running fast and I had to be ready to catch one on camera. Strong horses, to pull a big black carriage up the Mole hill and down the dales on the other side.

Waterfall to my right and the horses sped past

Three strands of grass grew out of a little hole in the concrete and when the wind blew them into the falling water, I was covered in drops of water. Other times the breeze got under the water as it fell and sent spray my way. I love being so close to the water.

Toward the top left are the drops falling down catching the light.

The wheel here at the Dayton Mill is almost out of my sight and no longer in use. I crawl along my ledge to get a better view and see the water dripping down catching the light in each of the beaded drops. The business of that mill in the past was grinding grain from miles around and keeping the district supplied with food. I could see the light of other days, when so many came and went here on their horse drawn carriages, full of the grain of their fields.

Mandala with kundalini energy imaged on the right represented by the snake like image.

The other image from the dream is that of the folded white clothes. I associate this to Revelation where the injunctions are to put on ” white raiment to cover your nakedness. You are luke warm and because you are neither hot nor cold, I will spew thee out of my mouth.” Well the white raiment is in the dream. I need to let go of the past and the ugly green suitcase and get on with wearing that white raiment. There is no room for luke-warmness on this path.

When I arrived in Dayton first, I notice lots of geese on the lake. The green sludge, an ugly green, is still banked against the edges of the lake. The geese are cleaning the sludge up and there is much less than in the late summer.

In outer life my ex and I are separated again but he is back in my dream representing my inner male side. He and I have made a move, a shift into other places in our outer life, which brings in an inner psychic shift. Dream work is soul work and this past weekend, working on this dream had calmed me and helped me see where I am going and helped me be about my soul business.

A little soul business is always good business

As I always ask, keep me in your prayers, hold me up in the light, surround me with light. Take your pick. After I meditate, I will send the light your way.

You can sign up for my blog anytime and enjoy this writing, whether you are in India, Ireland, United States, England, or any of the other countries where my blog has found a home. Thanks for being there in this conversation and Happy Thanksgiving. Love from Rose.

Posted in Counseling, Dream Counseling, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged Daton Mill wheel, dreams, Mandalas, meditation, Silver Lake, Watercolors | Leave a comment

Lines Written Above the River

Posted on November 21, 2019 by rlongwort

I love to visit Riven river where it is so decorated with large rectangular rocks. The light in the flowing water its such a treat and is ever changing depending on the leaf cover, the blue sky reflections and the time of day. I always feel drawn into the water even in the winter and went in the water as late as a week ago. I threw myself under about 13 times as a sort of winter baptism for cleansing and for invigorating my slowing up body.

The lines composed below have been gestating for a few weeks now. The poetry started with the Harvest moon when I had a lovely dream of a man who was young and beautiful. His dark hair fell over half his face and he had a shy smile. It is always a good idea to acknowledge such a gift with a little writing and painting. He unlocked my feet where they was stuck.

Caught in the moon

She hung upside down

Happy to be a fool

Until pearly drops

fall

From toes to nose

Over the top of her head

Oystering her all over

The view from the top of the steps at our digs in Santorini – We were surrounded by water

Her moon river young lover

Hovered over her

Writher

Rider

In the early evening

Goddessing her

King of angels

Waters of Babylon

Under rocks

Bathing her

Healing leaves fall

On her naked body

Leaves leaping from

Rounding branches

Chance letting go

To fall down

On her upturned toes

Glancing off her knees

Rooling down long bones

Circling in her leg tops

Bathing in her basin

Rounding her breasts

Licking her chin

She butterflies

The leaf passing by

With her tongue

Sticking to her forhead

tangling in her long hair

Falling on the ground

Leaves

Carried on the sound

Of wind

Blown over river stones

To gather around the man

Waiting patiently

For the meeting

Waiting for timing

To let her slip into his lap

Alive

In Sunlight she hangs

Above the pools

Above the three stones

She sees her fish

Flaunting

His orange fins

As he weaves back and forth

Showing

The black and white lines

of the edges

telling her of Damulzi

Her lover

Lost on the mountain

When her need is the sorest

The inner Man can come alive in the imagination of poetry. The metaphors relating to the Hanged Man of the tarot cards plays into the art of that place where we have to stay in an impossible situation for some time. These situations come up often, maybe daily for us. I meet people in my work who are caught in such court orders and such relationships. They appreciate the feeling of there is nothing you can do but wait.

I am in a new place again having finished my old relationship and having to hang in the in-between of my decision and without seeing into my future that my conscious mind might like to have.

Nevertheless, I am happy writing and meditating and feeling new feelings of being unstuck, and released in new ways. Sometimes when something is over it is over. Everyone benefits from the change.

I hope you are remembering your Dreams and that you are getting some insight from them. Please sign up on this site for an email which will come to you when I post a blog. Please keep me in your prayers as I keep you. We are the people of the light, keeping each other in the light. Love from Rose.

PS: I am starting a dream group on December 4th at 9am. I have one person signed up and hope to collect a few more over the next few weeks. Contact me at rlongwort@gmail.com if you wish to find out more details. Thanks.

Posted in Dream Counseling, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged Animus, poetry, Tarro Card | 1 Comment

Rose Longworth Counseling

Our Own Prayer Wheels

Healing Dreams and Creative Writing

Inner Knowledge to be found in Books

New Year’s Day at the River

New Year’s Day 2020

Christmas Poetry Group

Mariah and the Butterfly Dreams

Anger Management Group – Patience and Wrath.

The Case of the Heart

Lines Written Above the River

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