Rose Longworth Counseling

The heart chakra opening in and through a dream

Posted on April 26, 2019 by rlongwort

Rocks above Riven River

It was the best of times, as I went to Rawley Springs, where the national Park surrounds Riven River. The river was full to the brim of tumbling water, in a great rush out of the mountains. I already had my dream. It was Easter Saturday and I had the day to myself so I brought my water colors with me and sat in the sunshine, under lacy trees with my cup of river water and my two paintbrushes.

Some people think these rocks were part of a huge temple complex in the far past.

I tried to let the paintings paint themselves, in that I did not plan and I did not fret. I closed my eyes and let my brush and my hand go in any direction as I listened to the water below me. I was sitting on the higher bank. I did three pictures one after the other, picking colors and shapes that came to my liking or to my moving hands.

I remember thinking “Do not tell me I have to outline in black” as I knew that that would take a while. I compromised and said I could surround the edges with the black lines. In no time I had all three covered in black outlines. I feel the pictures are gifts from the unconscious and came to complement my recent dream.

The beautiful delicate pink on the rocks in the river is stunning. — I so wanted to climb onto this rock but did not risk it on my own.

The dream came the night before around the time I usually meditate. It was after a three hour yoga class the evening before in which it was suggested that we concentrate on the heart area and see a flame burning in there. At 2.00 am, I was tired and did not want to wake up much. I found myself singing my mother’s Sweet Heart of Jesus hymn in my head and thinking I must learn the second verse.

I fell asleep and had this dream. I am in bed with my intimate other and we are very close and entwined and moving, just rooling together. He asks me “What state do you want to be in.” and I see a light between our hearts, bright and three dimensional, as big as a grapefruit. As I became awake a feeling is going through my breasts to the depth of about an inch all around the nipples and into the breast. It felt as if it was three dimensional and moving out of me as I became more aware.

When I associated to the dream, I have to confess that within recent lovemaking I though of bringing different chakras together, in order to make a link to the energies involved. I envisioned the energy from my first chakra travelling into his second chakra and the same for him. Then both energies would travel up together, within each of us and meet at the heart and or head. It was a little intention in the moment, satisfying but not momentous. There was a physical rooling quality to that time, that was a bit different.

The question is asked about what state I wanted to be in. I associate this to a state of grace that is often mentioned within my mother’s religion. The gift of the feeling in the thoracic region, the feeling of energy moving through me resulted in me writing (in my dream trifold – Longworth December 2011, leaflet) as follows:

The rocks was so beautiful in the sunshine with the pink coming through

“I will help you get up to be at my sunrise every morning. I will be with you at the 2.00 am hour. I will be with you in your getting up and in your lying down. I will be with you in your listening. I will be with you in your pondering. I will well up in your heart filling you with the milk of human kindness. I will never forsake you. Just be there and I will walk with you everywhere.”

The path was covered in pine needles and lovely to walk on.

In the space in the above leaflet for “Changes that are needed to achieve my goals” I wrote the following: “Asking for help with my greedy blind side to be replaced with an open heart to my body – love for this marvelous machine that totes me around. Relaxing down my body into a slowness of the feminine side, leaning back into a male side that is encouraged by her attention.”

Tree growing at sharp angles by the rock.

In the dream the connection with the male side is positive and is asking a helpful question. The inner animus is uniting with my feminine side and both together bring the light at the heart center. The Book of Revelations promises the “Morning Star” as the gift of this church or center. The feeling that went through my chest is a bonus to me as it was visceral, never felt before feeling going through me. It was not of the body but using my heart center to bring down this feeling into my chest area, where the heart shape, the heart chakra resides.

A perfect angle between tow rocks was fascinating to look at

Finally I want to tell you there is a path, not long, straight up from the parking lot beside Riven River, that brings me up to path beside the huge square stones. I had to get up and see them again. Coming down could have been an issue for my knees, but I had a jacket full of stuffing on me and I set it down on the ground, and it slid on the pine needles all the way down.

I had a stout stick to help me climb up. A young man, on the way up recognized me and said my old name, offering help. I was fine I said. He had his bedding with him and asked if I had seen the big stones? A delightful time all around, by the river and above the river.

I got into the water twice. I stayed in the shallower places placing myself between rocks.

And if you want to look at a dream and consider how you might get into your heart, that honey hive in the chest, you can schedule an appointment with me at my home office, where I am ready and waiting with my art supplies, my experience of many years and my prayers, to take a look to get you into your beloved place, inside, always ready to help you find your true way in spirit and in truth. The dreams will not fail to bring you into your own wholeness.

Love from Rose

Posted in Dream Counseling, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged dream interpretation, dreams, Heart Chakra, Heart opening, meditation, Riven River | Leave a comment

Pots and Pans

Posted on April 17, 2019 by rlongwort

The storm woke Mariah up with a great crash through her open window, before two am and a slight tremor went through her bed. The racket of the thunder storm and blinding lightening continued for a while, slowly subsiding as she became fully awake. She thought that it would be a good time to meditate. She was looking for that throb in her hands and fullness in her head to indicate it was time to send out light and love and healing to her family and others she was working with.

Tulips coming up out of the ground sporting all kind of hues.

She did not want to forget either, that feeling that she had of coming up out of her body like a snake shedding her skin, the last time she meditated. It was visceral and a little frightening. Then she got really small and felt like a little person within her big toe. Meditation experiences were like dreams; they fell back into the unconscious if they were not spoken of quick and soon. At the same time it was useless to crow about them as the experience of meditation was a living-moving thing, always changing.

Climbing up out of herself into a oneness with the Spirit.

Mariah had not seen Druid Bernie for a month or so. She knew he would be at a group on the full moon and she could hope to see him then if not before. Maybe if she started cooking his fine nose would lead him to her house. But not today, as she was drawn outside.

She found herself a little person in her big toe.

When she walked outside the ground was puddle-luscious after the storm and the birds were scattering drops of water all over themselves having a fine wash in blue reflective pools. She though she might go to the river herself and immerse herself in the streams of water and the streams of light and healing that went through that water. She knew that she could not go wrong with lying on a rock as the water rushed past. As she lay there perhaps she would see the spin in her chakras, those places, power stations, designed to work her into an deep understanding of the spiritual and all that implied while alive on this earth. There were so many promises about this possibility and so little real attention paid to such delicate affairs, as healing, as auras and seeing around the corners of herself.

Trying to see around the corners of herself

More people were stopping by her home since she got word out that she was always open to dreams and stories. Mariah welcomed an artist who told Mariah a story about her dying dog. This dog was the one with whom she had a special connection. The dog was a nuisance but he climbed over that into the green space in her heart in a very familiar way and she could only describe her feelings for her dog as love, understanding and peace, giving her infinite patience with the dog in spite of his nuisance value. This woman artist said that her dog was dying but she did not know it. In that period just before the dog died, while she sat with her dog, she experienced a strange rushing in her head and felt shakey for a day or so afterwards.

Tulips in bloom always brought the Druid Bernie back home

Mariah thought that the dog was in the act of leaving his own body and that this dog brought this experience to the woman so she would know that the spirit leaves the body through this chakra called the Pineal, which resided in the head as an upside down pine cone. The noise and feeling of rushing energy through the artist’s head indicated that she was in sympathetic feeling with her dog who was preparing to leave his body. The owner of the dog was relieved to find someone with whom she could discuss this strange movement of energy. She worried about mental and physical health, when it was just a spiritual experience of the departing of her beloved dog.

This dog loved everyone and most everyone loved him.

Mariah was learning the way of this energy from the Druid, and from some old scrolls he read to her. She would check in with him to see if she was right about this movement of energy and this connection about the dog. She felt she was getting some intuition of her own, even as she could be wrong when ever she was overthinking or just worrying.

Mariah went to see her group of women friends for dream group and she told them about how Uishneach always put the lids of the pots on the wrong shelf. Mariah seemed to forget this complication and would go looking for the pot lids in all kind of places before finding them where Uishneach usually put them. She had to stop herself in her tracks to redirect her thoughts into a few prayers for Uishneach in order not to create some very bad vibes. She was trying to practice that cardinal rule of loving the enemy. He was not exactly the enemy but in that lid moment it was close to the enemy edge.

Uisneach wondered where to put things so Mariah would not fuss at him.

As the group talked Mariah told them about the pot she burned. She was distracted by a neighbor and forgot this pot. It was burned black as soot. She could not find the right lid for the pot that time either. The lid, which she placed on the pot upside down, because it was so big, had a thick layer of blackness scumbing up the top of the lid.

There was smoke everywhere and the smell stayed for three days.

It was then that Mariah realized that there was more to the lids than a little fume about something in the wrong place. It sat on top of steam coming up from the pot of her, on top of old hurts about gold and spending her gold in old mines that were impossible to mine. She held a grudge, which found a way to erupt, in burnt pots and mislaid lids.

Her mother’s words about burning the “arse of the pot” came back to Mariah and she mumbled about burning up her own arse and her own pots. The image of the arse and the pot burning, and it all inside her made everyone laugh a lot. Mariah remembered that anger uses the energy of the first chakra and that that inside fire would burn her up, in more ways than one. She would have to take some mud to the pots and some good scrubbing to bring them back to shining again and refocus her thoughts and emotions to change her inner self. The end.

The weather is glorious here in Virginia in this mid April time. Rose’s mood is good and she is sitting out looking at all the lovely tulips in bloom. She made a mandala with the oil pastels and you see the results and she photographed the red tulips from many angles all up and down this blog.

Tulips in bloom always brought the Druid Bernie back home
What state are they in?
Marvelous mandala

I had a lovely dream in the night and wrote it up in my dream leaflet book so I would not loose the feeling and the detail of the dream. There was a question in the dream for me. “What state are you in?” It is a good question for anyone to answer. Please call to do some inner work, some dream work. I look forward to hearing from you.

Love Rose.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Mariah and the Ants

Posted on April 10, 2019 by rlongwort

Mariah was watering her plants as some had become very dead looking. She checked on two violets and found that although the pot felt heavy and full of water, when she pushed her finger into the clay it was as dry as a desert. So she went about watering and poking into the depths of those plants.

The biggest plant, essentially a tree, which she inherited from her mother, Moriah, was in need of a watering. It was in a corner and she put a half a bucket of water onto it. It was dry and the leaves were droopy.

She noticed there were four extra suckers coming up around the main stem and she went about cutting them off. She eyed the whole plant to see if a trim all over was in order. It was then she noticed that the plant seemed to have come alive. There was a stream of ants climbing up the main trunk all in a row, about three deep, and most of them carrying little white eggs. They were trying to escape the deluge of water Mariah had put into the pot. Mariah though there were some kind of aphids on the plant that they were after but then realized she was the culpit in this case, for drowning the poor plant. The pot itself was covered in ants also and at the bottom of the pot there was a mote of water, created by this watering, preventing them from escaping.

Some had flung themselves onto the ground and others were going up her leg and there were a few in her hair from when she tried to cut off one sucker, when she first noticed that there was a panic going on with the ants. She pulled the whole thing out of doors, as it was not so frosty any more and she hope the ants might go away and the ants in the kitchen problem might be solved.

That night as she meditated she through of those ants going up and down the trunk of the little tree, in two straight lines and she thought of her own trunk and the energy going up the left side of her spine called the ida and the other side called the pingula. The trunk of the little tree was like the marrow going up her back bone, the susuma, looking all white in and of themselves. She could feel some light going up her backbone, some hint of movement as she lay there, an expansiveness melting her out of the confines of her body.

Streams of light, lighting up the yellow all alive

She was connecting the red of that first chakra with this lovely light coming from below, from Mother Earth. The white light from above, interlaced with the violet of the highest chakra beckoning her into the connection between above and below, between her highest and lowest chakras. If she wanted to heal with her hands she could throw out these combinations of lights on others and consider how the lights were blinking in the other person. She was not too sure of how she would get it all to work but she was determined to get her hands working in the right way so that the terrible arthritis creeping on her fingers, wrists and thumbs could be released.

Tulips with their heads toward the sky and their feet in Mother Earth

As soon as Mariah made up her mind to use her hands in this way, her friend came knocking on the door looking for some healing, as she had bumped her head on a log and the dwarves had warned her not to do that as the last time she hit her head, she got a terrible headache. Mariah gave her a lovely cup of tea made from clover and other sweet herbs and put a cold stone on her forehead and held it on with an apron and its strings. She looked a little strange, as that stone slipped down over her cheek but she pushed it back up and it held in place. Mariah was not sure of how all this healing would go but remembered other healers who had worked on her. She put one hand on her friend’s head and the other toward the sky and asked for help from the Spirit above. After the tea was drank, her friend asked for another healing and Mariah obliged in the same way again and that was that. When she was gone Mariah flicked her fingers to let go, finish off the healing session. She sat out and played some music and enjoyed a cool evening with a rug around her shoulders and a pot of tea nearby.

Later that evening she burned her pot full of vegetables on her stove and it filled the house with black smoke. She was distracted by a friend out on the lane and stood talking to her for an hour. As she came inside again she realized she had put some very hard turf on the fire and the pot was burned and the vegetables were in cinders. The smell permeated all her clothes, and everything in the house. Could it be connected to the impromptu healing session with her friend? She lit some fragrant wood and opened up the ceiling window and hoped for the best. Three days later she was still lighting incense to heal the whole house of the smell. Uisneach said it was nothing to do with the healing and that she was getting dotty for burning her pot and should be more careful. Careful, careful, she said to herself and do not be rattled by his comments. She was determined to go on with getting the energy into her hands and to sending it out to help with healing others and her own self in the process, regardless of a little black smoke. It was a small price to pay for getting her hands to dip in the light. The end.

Pink petals laying around

If you too are interested in the things of the spirit, you like Mariah, can meditate into what is possible for you, what you are make of, what healing you can do, and what dreams mean. It is easy to contact me through this site or through Psychology Today. I look forward to working with you where every session brings healing to me and to you.

A little warmth on the shoulders was needed in the spring evenings.

Love from Rose.

Posted in Leprechaun, Psychoanalytic | Tagged ants, backbone, Blossom trees, healing, house plants, Kundalini, Leprechaun story, meditation, self healing, spring flowers | Leave a comment

Farmer’s Dreams

Posted on April 7, 2019 by rlongwort

The initiation rights in Greece and Egypt were a scary affair. You would be dropped down into an underground labyrinth, black dark, no food or water and snakes around for eleven days. There was a period of twenty years of preparing for this. I would not like it. It reminds me of Daniel and the lion’s den and other such stories from the Bible. If we were to believe these stories, you would have to have a good rapport with the light to survive in the above cases. Surely I can get a hold on this light without going through that.

An old water color painted in the nineties when I had Margot Bergman for my teacher.

I thought of the lowest chakra, the root chakra, as in the bowl, a bowl in the pelvis. Now I have to consider it as an upside down bowl, facing down to the ground, plugging into the earth mother goddess energy available to us from below. A source of electricity, white light, with out any stations, wires or plugs, sitting right under our feet. Its equivilant sits as a bowl over our head connecting us to sky.

One of the exercises in Qigong is called “Jade Dragon weaves around the body.” In these exercises, I went ahead this morning and imagined that green energy coming up from the ground and also blue coming down from the sky and weaving around my body. The blue and green colors were like that marble cave that exists in South America. It felt good, tightening.

Our feet are our plug in to the Earth Mother. My birth religion honors the mother as Mary but we did not connect her to the whole birthing of the earth thing and the abundance to be found here. I am aware of it more now in the Springtime, where the streams of light are very active sending spring into its beautiful spin. I could feel that spin in the arboretum, giving me a feeling or a spin within my center. It is a very relaxing buzz, compliments of mother nature.

Daffodils in Arboretum
In the Arboretum. Photo by Miriam McNamara.
The flowers were for sale in the Farmer’s Market
Spring has sprung

I asked for dreams in the market this morning. One farmer said that he used to have nightmares when he was younger and pulled his wife out of the bed at that time thinking she was part of the dream. I wanted to mumble about past lives but it did not get said. Now he says he is happy and satisfied, and has no more nightmares. I told him to be happy and content but not satisfied. It is part of this life to keep the candle lit and the wick trimmed, a metaphor for keeping in touch with developing a closer walk with Spirit, with the help of dreams.

The other dream given to me was of a tarantula that morphed into a hand and then there were two of them kissing each other and they went off together. The color of the tarantula was different and when I mentioned abuse from the past the dreamer said she was working on herself for a long time. I thought the dream related to the abuse moving out of the psyche. The Self had structured this dramatic situation based on a father complex that was being worked on by her waking self. This dramatic situation came as a compensation for her work around a complex and was given to her by the Self through a dream to release her form old hurts.

Old abuse issues can be hard to move on without help from the dreams and therapy.

The dream has the effect of putting her into an altered state, is an altered state, that allows the body/brain to take out, let go of such abuse. This dream was given to her by her Self as a way to do something with such difficult feelings from the past. I asked her to draw a mandala to show the progression of the dream.

A mandala can be drawn by taking a plate the size of your face, drawing a circle and without any judgments, make your best effort to fill the page with color, going with what ever line you feel like drawing, what ever color strikes your eyes as you go through.

This plant died off but is back again for the spring times.

Another dream was from a farmer who reported that both he and his wife had the same dream of their clock alarms going off. He blew it off, as they had to get up early for market and the dream was a “nothing but” to him. Many people, who do not want to take responsibility for a deeper walk with spirit, sweep dreams under the carpet. I felt the dream had two meanings. The first is there are alarms going off for both the people involved. This should be heeded. The second is the call to wake up as in wake up to the spiritual in everything. From former dreams I was told by this farmer, he has written a book and he delays with taking it out there, fearing it will not be accepted. A former dream gave him a depiction of Mole Hill being covered with chicken houses and he did not like this idea much. He really wants people to wake up to how the earth is not treated with respect and he would like to focus on that. As a way to honor that dream he/they could go about publishing his book.

I made the food I saw in a dream a while ago. I made a polenta, corn, cut it in slices, covered it with cooked eggplant sauce (tahini mixed in), placed a pile of sprouts on top and put beans on top of that. In the dream, black beans were involved but I am using up my great northern ones and the black beans will have to wait. So far I like it a lot and it agrees with me having lots of lovely fiber, flavor, vitamins and a good tasty bite.

Art work by Annabeth McNamara to be found on Patreon, her music platform.

I hope you are having dreams that are waking you up and that you are carrying that out into your life by doing something as a result of having the dream. I will try and take my own dreams seriously, and not be a “nothing but” person.

I am sure we were discussing a dream with the Golden Temple in the back ground.

Love from Rose.

Posted in Dream Counseling, dream interpretation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Hands of Light – Wheels of Light

Posted on April 4, 2019 by rlongwort

In the Arboretum. Photo by Miriam McNamara.

I am reading a book which is full of stories about God/god images in dreams. It is a feast for my dream brain. I dreamed last night that God is holding my hand, and is represented as a very tall man. He gets down to my level, on to his hunkers, asking me why I am late. He means that I am late to the table of spirit. I am trying to hurry up with all I know about it, getting briefly excited and then my laziness at following through with connecting inward. I could be wrong about this but the next dream will correct me

A beautiful building in Washington. All those mandalas together shimmering in the sunshine. I saw the building while driving to airport to pick up Miriam.

As I may have shared I am having some physical therapy for my hands, as there is a certain amount of pain associated with using my thumb and sometimes my other fingers. Turning a doorknob can be a consideration at times. I massage oil into them often. After the fifth session with my physical therapist for hands, my hands are feeling a little better at last. She had all kinds of strategies for improving movement and uses ultrasound, some instrument and more recently a thick elastic bandage to tie my hand stiffly in place and then to bend it this way and that. She also catches my fingers as we talk and causes me to hold my breath. I am reluctant to stop talking up a storm with her about dreams and other things so I direct a word or two toward her at times relating to the pain. She might ease up a little then. She manages a lot of pain in a little time. Most of the other time it is blissful attention from her cool tender hands and inner beauty.

Mustard greens in Hill n Dale park
Daffodils in Arboretum
Wildflowers at Hill n Dale

I told her the following dream, which I shared at the end of my last blog, as there is the image of a hand in it. It went as follows: I dream that a woman dressed in green says something I do not catch and when I ask her she makes a point of not repeating herself.

My inner child is caught between the goddesses. The figure on the left was supposed to be a God image but came out more like a Goddess. I am standing on the little yellow alter. The Goddesses are not concerned with my dirty face or where I am standing.

I see in my active imagination about the dream that from her hand comes colors, clouds of blue, green indigo and violet. I have known for a long time about hands on healing and that there is a light chakra in the hand. I have had tender healing many times in my life given to me as a gift. I understand there are seven main chakras down through the trunk of the body and head but that there are chakras in the hands and all over the body remains out of my consciousness and a secret to me most of the time. Lack of health, that is pain in any area, means the wheels are a little cockeyed, slowed down or reversed.

These ancient wheels grace the landscape at Avalon Farm

In my active imagination with my dream, where I sat down and continued the dream in my imagination, there are colors; blue, green, indigo and violet coming out of the palm of the woman’s hand. I had to insist I get an answer from her. Her green color connects her to the spring and is the color associated with the heart chakra and love. My attention to her tells me that she needs to show me about this healing hand thing, for a possible strengthening and healing of my hands. Using the hands as healing hands, for me, will bring healing as I have a new purpose for using them.

Flowing water is always compliments of the Goddess. This river is at Avalon Farm near Broadway in Virginia.

In meditation this week, I almost missed something. It was as if two hands placed a cup on my breastbone. I was busy thinking about, who knows what, when it happened. It took me a while to see the cup was full of dark liquid. I tried to escape this fact. That is the nigrado of Alchemy and I am required to turn it to gold slowly but surely, by the way I live my life. Carl Jung at the end of his life had a dream that the big tree in his yard had roots of gold.

These beautiful beach trees surely have golden roots too, as the stream flows nearby.

As a result of having my dreams above, for the one about the woman, I continue to work with bringing health back to my hands and also to using my hands as a way to give healing energy to others, whether as massage, drawing while in counseling session with an other, or just as a way to express empathy by touching another. As a result of having the one about the man/God, I am working with dreams and art all the time. I will do more personal mandala as a response to that dream(see mandala above.)

I hope you enjoy my art and photos that I put on my blogs. If you would like to work with such things, you can contact me through this media as I am on Psychology Today where you can find my name and read all about my qualifications and get in touch with me through them. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Posted in Dream Counseling, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged Chakras, dreams, goddess, Hands of Light, Interpretation, Light, wheels | Leave a comment

Wake Up

Posted on March 27, 2019 by rlongwort

One of Mariah’s friends, Finn, thought of her when he had a dream and he came past her house hoping to find her outside and when he saw her through the hedge he exclaimed in the distance “I am so glad to see you as I have a dream and you are going to be very pleased to hear it.” Mariah was sitting out on the cold morning, one of the last of the Spring, and was eating up a large basin of greens she had collected in the hedge earlier. Eating the greens was always tedious to her and she would not be eating them unless Druid Bernie encouraged her to be eating every thing green to take advantage of the massive influx of Spring energies that comes with the Vernal Equinox. To step into those massive streams of life, love and peace was to intention and a green gut was a good idea.

She waved Finn over and he said that he dreamed that he was asleep in his bed, near the edge where he usually sleeps. That way it is easy to get out of the bed in the morning. He had a dream of his friend and he is very gently shaking him awake and saying to him, “Wake up.” It was a lovely blessed feeling and it inspired him to get up and walk across the town land to tell him the dream. He was a truly gentle soul and was always concerned for others. Finn was so anxious to hold on to the dream, so he did the walking, as a way to remember this gift from inside.

Mariah was indeed very happy to hear this dream. She tried to say as little as possible and let Finn talk. He said he was having a hard time staying motivated as the winter came to a close and he thought the dream was telling him to wake up and get busy again. Mariah mentioned the spiritual implication of this archetype from within him coming to him, giving him a feeling that everything was ok, very gently shaking him, his face very close to his own. It almost brought tears to his eyes and he swallowed a time or two as he talked. He said he likes to read holy books and be inspired through this meditation and reading. He said that is hard for him now but hard prayers are supposed to be the best prayers. This was very important to him.

Finn was no longer gainfully employed by the dwarves

The sun was gathering a little heat as he stood there a few feet from her. From that story telling place he told her of several things that he felt were connected to his dream. As he walked in the village, a door opened and two chickens walked out with a cat walking alongside the chickens. He spoke to the person that accompanied them and thought about the lion lying down with the lamb, the cat with the chickens. He found this funny, a kind of alternative reality, like his own, where the dwarves no longer gainfully employed him. Finn was getting older, and he considered his retirement and his natural death eventually.

The next association he had was to his grandmother, who he never met, who was his father’s mother. They were poor indeed, with no pots. When his grandmother had seven children, their place burned down and the family moved in to a fine chicken coop, which was left standing. His father had apprenticed with the dwarves and he was a carpenter. After that burning he took one look at the chicken house and quickly put in some lofts covered with straw for bedding, make a kitchen table and corralled the chickens in a third of the space.

The hens wondered what was happening but went on laying and providing for the family. The whole family was very pleased to be safe and he could feel his grandmother smiling at him down through the years, imagining that beautiful smile from almost one hundred years earlier. She gave him the feeling that all was well even if the chicken coop was the place of abode, even if he was feeling depressed and had not got gold to call his own. Her smile was like gold to him and he knew it was the inheritance he would give to his granddaughter, a gift from within.

Mariah had the best laugh about the chicken stories. She remembered her childhood with her father, on a horse, with the chickens in the laneway in front of them. Those birds were considered very stupid, as they would fly ahead of the horse, never budging from the center of the lane, trying to avoid being trampled. Eventfully they skirted into the hedge, with much squawking, as her father put the horse into full gallop. He enjoyed this little bit of fun at the hen’s expense. Her mother did not like it, as eggs might dry up for a day or two, as the hens soothed down their rustled up feathers.

Her father running the chickens down -her mother said the devil got into him.

Mariah remembered a dream of a hen near her door. The hen had a number of eggs hatching in her nest and the hen had come to pick up some food thrown out the door for the hens. The hen kept an ear for her nest, ready to fly back at any inkling of danger to her eggs. Mariah’s mother said that Mariah’s dream was about keeping one ear listening for the spirit even as we go about our business.

Cooking up all kind of good things to eat.

The greens were eaten, the laughing was over and Mariah went indoors to get busy with her chores and to keep her ear tuned for the spirit in everything. The end.

Rose had a dream, that she found on an leaflet, dated to April 2018. It went as follows; I dream that a woman dressed in green says something I do not catch and when I ask her she makes a point of not repeating herself and when I pursue it after the fact of the dream I see that from her hand comes color, clouds of blue and indigo and violet. This beautiful dream is pointing to the possibility of the healing light that can come through the hand chakra, if only we use it in that way. Love from Rose.

Dreamcounseling.com

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Psychology Today -Rose Longworth, Harrisonburg, Virginia.

Posted in dream interpretation, dreams, Psychoanalytic | Tagged drawings, dreams and interpretation, fire, Leprechaun story | Leave a comment

Vernal Equinox

Posted on March 20, 2019 by rlongwort

Mother Nature is busy again this Spring time

Mariah put on all her green clothes, it was the Vernal Equinox day and a full Super moon all at the same time. She was down the lane, all her house work taken care of, and she had a free time to sit in the hedge and watch the primroses emerge, great wheels of pale yellow flowers opening to the warm spring sunshine, shining out from shaded vernal banks.

The Druid Bernie came by and lit his pipe and sat on a mossy rock. She told him she had been wondering about her thoughts and the part they played in everything. He encouraged her to keep talking and thoughting, as he nodded between puffs of his pipe. Everyone I look at I have thoughts for and they are good and bad thoughts, likes and dislikes. I can even make myself change my thoughts by having empathy, or walking in their shoes in my mind. Any number of thoughts is free to me, all the time. I may be having seven thousand thoughts every day, or more.

More like seventy thousand thoughts said the Druid. You are eating from the Tree of Good and Evil right there. This is good and this is evil for me.

Trees and their reflections – Thoughts and their reflections.

Mariah said, “I might think of Raisin Dubh and tagged on to that thought is a huge pile of memories, any number of which I can go over. Mariah remembered her mother saying the phrase; “Why are you coming over that again?” Some of the memories are not the best, involving hurt or sadness, of anger and some are marvelous, involving joy and happiness.

The Druid said, “We are hard wired to go over thoughts again, as thoughts might help us plan to stay safe. But we are safe in the lane here now, no need to worry about the past events and we can look at the flowers and hope the hedge hogs are happy making up new families. But they are not necessarily enlightened thoughts, the good or the bad ones.”

So now what?

He suggested that he and Mariah meditate in the silence, stop the thoughts and see if they could see about this enlightenment. Stop thinking if you can and then Silence he mumbled. Let us not eat from that Tree of Good and Evil just for a few minutes.

She had to call herself back again and again into her center, into her breathing to get to some semblance of silence. She noticed the air coming in and out of her nose. She had the fantasy that the nostrils were pulling air in from over her head and were blowing it back out straight down. She never noticed that before. If the Father in heaven was in her head, then it felt he was breathing her in these up and down motions, and involving her whole body in the process. Was this some secret language of the soul, with no words involved?

She asked God to cleanse her chakras, those seven stars all through her backbone. She thought she could see them. The star shape came to her and she could see how everything jigsaws into everything in those star shapes. Everything and everyone is connected. The Milky Way, full of Star Systems was all included, great circles of God in great broken rings.

She had to jump over the edge and let go of everything that held her head together. She saw her head pealing away on the outside like the peals of an apple, neat and even and going out and out. She merged with the sky, she was not thinking but flying.

Stars and streams of life all down through the backbone.

When she told the Druid Bernie of her experience, he was not much interested but commented that she might be getting nearer to the Tree of Life. It is different from the judging of the Tree of Good and Evil and when you get closer to the streams of the Tree of Life, it is like the sap in a Tree, flowing mightily with life, creating great wheels of flowers and fruits. The core of an apple when cut across is in the shape of a lovely star.

Druid Bernie was carrying a bag of lovely red apples and he gave them to Mariah and said she could eat one a day before meditation to remind her of her last meditation and to encourage her to continue to seek for the Tree of Life. After you touch off the Tree of Life, the thoughts coming to you will be a little more enlightened.

He said he got the glorious sweet apples, from a tree his mother planted in her home place. The place is abandoned but the tree still produces as if there are ten families residing there still. The tree never takes offence, or has any thoughts about what is good and evil.

Mariah took the apples and watched the Druid Bernie as the last of his green robe disappeared around the corner of the lane, held in place by overarching trees and a think hedge. She thought she saw a hedgehog in the distance too with his starry little nose.

She went home to see if Uishneach was going to play his whistle this evening. People would soon be coming to her cleaned up house and she felt cleaned up from her meditation with the Druid. They would have a great night between them all with the notes of that little whistle floating to great her in the light of the full super moon on the evening when the sun comes back to greet them with more light and more warmth in the mild northern climate. She felt vernal in her heart, a wonderful green, filled with lightness and of healing. It would keep her going in a very good mood for many days. She felt she had partook of some spiritual food and it filled her up. The end.

What stands between the Spirit and us? What untruths, thoughts need to be examined, recycled, trashed, and revised as a step in the ladder of light? Or do we need to side step more of our thoughts, touch into the Spirit through silence, and them we will have more enlightened thoughts. It takes an every day practice of meditation to keep sorting through the nonsense thoughts. — A little cleaning in water is always good before meditation

Happy Vernal Equinox at two minutes to 6pm today to you. Love from Rose.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged meditation, Music, thoughts, Tree of Good and Evil, Tree of Life, Vernal Equinox | Leave a comment

Sprouting with Anger

Posted on March 17, 2019 by rlongwort

On Saint Patrick’s morning in Dayton, Mole Hill and the trees are perfectly reflected in Silver Lake

Mariah wondered where her anger all came from. Did she learn it from her mother when she spoon-fed her milk and honey? Her mother had some fear of her husband and she liked to tell her stories about the men; Some of the older folk, said “the best one among them all was never any good” as they blamed their own inaction on the menfolk. Her father had a temper and she may have learned it directly from him, and did not hesitate to shout or throw what ever was at hand, especially at her mother once or twice in his life. He hit her in the funny bone with a lump of pyrite once when she tried to tell him what to do.

Pyrite and another grumpy looking rock holding it up.

She was with Uishneach after a few days absence and she asked him to come and tell her his stories as she got into preparing her evening meal. But the tone he took, the words he said made her insane and soon she was wishing she never asked him out to be with her in the evening sun as he sipped the last of his wine. When she tried to discuss it, he went into deliberate babbling sounds, like a group of crows talking to a hawk they did not approve of.

All this registered as a lump in her solar plexus area and she carried it around. She distracted herself with some old stories. Then she deliberately sat, as the sun was going down and looked to the west. It was a beautiful evening sky with light blue in places and golden sun lighting up a thin film of clouds over the nearby blue hills.

Old Leprechaun stories were always popular

And as the sun was going down she closed her eyes and thought she did not wish to be angry and how it would fill her full of the seeds of grump. She decided to breath in and focus on who she wanted to be and who she believed herself to be. She wanted to develop her heart and soul into feelings of love and to breathe the air of the evening into that. She was only dancing on this little earth for a short while and would she waste it in violent clucking and revenging and resentment?

As she sat and glanced again to the west she stared into that space where she had a glimpse of heaven pulled back too late. She lifted out into that space and found she was holding beautiful light filled hands. She was in a stream of movement, carried along among the stars in the Milky Way. She was free from herself and her place of imprisonment and onto that place in her solar plexus where soft light is shining where her own Milky Way can be found, where the milk of human kindness shines. The love found in the Morning star was hers when she sought for the feelings of love to fill her heart.

The flowers are in bloom from the Farmer’s Market

As the movement stopped she came back to herself and knew immediately that she and Uishneach were made of the same cloth and that she could let go of what had trigged her into resentment and complaining. She would go back to loving him and turn from what makes her tied to the grind and the ground in a bitter sound.

Cooking up all kind of good things to eat.

She jumped up and decided to make some food for the next day based on a recent dream she had. She has some alfalfa sprouts make already and she make corn cakes in an iron pan in among the coals of turf. She cooked some beans with lovely seasonings and combined them together on top of a freshly cooked open corn dog heaped up with sprouts and layered above and below with mashed seasoned beans. She also popped some corn in the turf fire and stuck the popped corn all over the laden corn cake trying to get them to stick to the sides and to the center. She wrapped it all up in some pieces of linen cloath and left it ready for Uishneach for his travels the next day. The end.

Perhaps he is telling me some dreams or visions at the Golden Temple in India. Pictures by John Bradley.

Rose was all around the place harvesting dreams and visions. The one of the yellow cow being cared for and cleaned by a Mary was a lovley vision that interrupted the flow, as the owner of the dream, breathed deeply and moved in exercise. The vision came with a thundering into the mind and blocked out the exercise sequence. Rose was impressed with the images and linked the yellow color to the third chakra, which is the Don Tien of the Tai Chi. That there is a woman, with the Mary name doing this cleaning and caring for the yellow cow within his psyche is a great thing, to be in touch with a helpful anima, the woman inside. The cow represents female energies and is sacred in India, brining in further meaning to the vision. “Please draw a depiction of the yellow cow” Rose requested.

I can tell by the hair that I was in some water, perhaps at the Golden Temple.

Rose went to a baby shower. She brought a sprouting jars and sprouting seeds for the mother, as she had had the dream of the corn, beans and sprouts, as something good for the mother to eat. Rose had great success sprouting the lentils and has been eating them lately. She tried to sprout some sesame seeds but they are inert, treated in some way. She is on the lookout of alfalfa seeds.

The daffodils are in bloom and my sister Frances left for Ireland with her cats on Thursday. The cat creations on my alter are hers. They all arrived safely in Dublin.

The pieces of popped corn all around the corn cake, she has not tried yet. Rose almost forgot that detail, and finds it a little funny. Brenda, at work, will have some kind of fit if Rose brings that to the noon meeting on Thursday. Brenda always makes a big fuss of Rose’s “green slime” and other unfamiliar and questionable fare, that she feels free to consume in front of her companions in the counseling center she frequents two days each week. They are a patient and good group of co-workers.

I am trying to slow down a bit again, going less places, seeing less people, being less on face book. I do consider some counseling to be my chosen occupation and some writing to be what I want to do with my life. I always feel happy to have put something together in this way, through counseling and through writing. And if I can include some things that are coming up for me, that I know may also be coming up for you, then I feel I am ahead.

I wish you all a very happy Saint Patrick’s day. Love from Rose.

Posted in Dream Counseling, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged anger, dreams, Interpretation, Leprechaun story, spring flowers, sprouts | Leave a comment

The Ark

Posted on March 8, 2019 by rlongwort

Mariah sat out side her own house, looking at her chipping nails and removing the dirt that migrated in there, as she had been working with her plants again. Her fingers were responding to some attention from the Dwarves of the Hands and they rubbed oils and poked with blunt implement to push around what was too tight and too crooked or was going that way in both her thumbs. She appreciated the attention from them and enjoyed the chat. She liked to hear stories from them and asked them for dreams. The last time she did not hear a dream but her worker noted that she had this thing of wanting the dishes done even as she did not find time to do them before she came to work on hands. All the while she was away from her place she though of those dishes lying around and so wanted that to not be the case.

When she came home the dishes were done and she thanked her husband three times for doing this chore. He was a bit puzzled with her that she was so thankful and relieved. Mariah thought it was something to do with her mother. The worker slanted her eyes, and looked into the distance. Mariah wanted to continue but she changed the subject saying that the egg that she cooks is never as good as the one she gets from someone else. And that was that. Mariah thought it was still due to her mother but she kept silent as her hand was being pulled this way and that. Surely she would soon be cured.

Mariah had the feeling she had something to do with what was happening to her own body, as it vacillated this way and that, sometimes feeling fully cured, sometimes on her last gasp. The rain and the wind and the snow and the ice seemed to bring their own special messengers of rawness and it had been raining since last May, at least eight months now.

Water water everywhere
Boghole
White stones by the River Wayne.

The bog holes were full and overflowing and the rivers went along fast and furious, some overflowing their banks. The lower reaches of her house sported a little stream at times. She refused to get excited about it and waited for it to leave of its own accord. The March rains were sure to spring up, as there were springs underneath the hill she lived on. She used to push that pure clean water around in a furious manner ushering it out the far corner until she was in a sweat, in her bare feet. One time, she had just finished bathing when the flood came in and she danced all around looking all white and bouncy, with her brush until she was out of breath. There was little use pushing that water all around the place and she threw the brush in the rising water. As she turned, she slipped in the thin layer of find mud under her bare feet. She landed in the corner and there she spied out one of Uishneach’s green garments, clogging the exit hole for the water. She was glad he was out for a few days as she brought it out to hang to dry on the bushes. She noticed something heavy in the pocket and found two pieces of gold. She would keep it for one of her own projects, or for a rainy day and there were plenty of them.

Uishneach had started to build an ark in the lane and there was great interest in this large thing in the middle of the midlands with no water in sight. “But it will be here for when it floods” is what Uishneach said. He had three workers putting it together and there were great conversation about how to cover in the sides. What color of paint? how thick the boards? Uishneach left and his workers came for just a few hours here and here. Mariah paid them little heed when they wanted money, keeping her gold pieces for herself. She had mixed feeling about this ark. Maybe she would have some good fire wood for next winter. The end.

From her porch, Rose heard a group of ten bikers going up the street, skinny and black clad, on dark shiny bikes, close together and moving in unison. One had pink stripes on the lower back and others had other small signs scattered on their tight clad muscles to help them to be seem. It is a steep hill and as Rose looked around to see them there was one talking about something on the front page of the newspaper and “wouldn’t it be funny if”… that is all Rose heard. Others things she heard from passing bikers in the past were “My wife works at JMU” and other little phrases, full of loud words that she has forgotten.

She always listens keenly to the Man Bikers hoping she will get some great words of wisdom to flow in over the hedge to her or through the opening at the steps where she gets glimpses of them. She likes to hear this man talk as she is always talking to women.

How long will I have to wait
First in line
Rose waiting for the feast

Rose had a dream last night set in the churchyard back home in Rosemount, in County Westmeath, Ireland where there was a great free feast. The feast was not in the church but in the opposite direction. Rose went up to the nuns and brothers who were in charge of the feast. A line had formed and Rose wanted to know how long she would have to wait. Some people left and then she was first in line. The nun was dressed in white, with veil and wimple on. Rose could see her face plainly as she addressed her with her question.

Love you. I pray for you, you pray for me. We will both be ahead. I write my dreams, you write out yours. We can both plan to get some instruction from our dreams and partake in the great free feast. We will be ahead again. Love from Rose.

Sitting in my counseling room in Harrisonburg Virginia

PS. Like if you will, comment if you want. I love your feedback. Share if you dare. Look forward to your response.

Posted in Dream Counseling, dreams, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged bikers, drawings, dream, Leprechaun story, Mandala, storytelling, weather | Leave a comment

Asse’s Ears

Posted on March 2, 2019 by rlongwort

The Story Teller from the West

The story teller was happy telling stories

When the storyteller from the West came he started his story on this evening, by mentioning the boards at the end of the lane behind which the story takes place. He told the story of the young man with ass’ ears that had got in control of the older woman, who liked her cups of wine. He was carrying her around at too fast a pace for her liking but she could not get his ears to listen or slow down. He left her on an island called Pattimos. She felt very lonely and abandoned in a place where the only thing she had was a number of wet empty purses she pulled out of the lake. They once were lovely leather purses and she asked who would do such a thing. She considered getting into one of the purses for shelter, for durance, for survival, anything to leave the rock, hard and cold. She just could not make herself small enough.

She was advised by the donkey with a human head to look toward the horizon, as all help came from that direction. She sat on a rock and waited as she contemplated. She kept looking toward the horizon, and memories came to her.

From the dreamwork – trying to see what is outside the cave.

Her father’s old letters, written when she was an infant came to her. She felt that loneliness inside, her own loneliness for her mother, when she was parted from her, hidden for a very long time. She looked into little boxes on shelves, in the home of her grandmother, to find the feelings, long since lost, forgotten, rejected. She felt the holes in her heart, which she filled with wine, to numb them out. But now when the empty spaces in her heart raised their heads looking for the feelings put away in boxes at such a young age, she flew toward the horizon and got in the golden boat, and went to her old house and found the shelves.

The most beautiful feelings, the very thing she needed, to get her off that stone, that deserted island, were in those boxes on the shelves. She notices that the purses regained their original luster and were the perfect place for such feelings. She put a halter on that guy with the ass’ ears and he did not buck but followed along, mesmerized by those purses, in love with what was stashed in them. She thanked the ass with the human head, who gave her directions. And she bowed to the golden boat and let it go again; knowing it would be there when she needed it next. The storyteller ended the story by saying “And were I have come from, at the end of the lane, that I have told you.” He stayed for the music, eating and drinking such thing as they had, enjoying everything and going his way early the next morning. The end.

Rose is having a couple of dreams, in which there is a male figure, young, tall, not anyone she knows but someone familiar. In each dream he is associated with someone who wants to help. When there is a big inundation in the city, three times, he is standing on the rubble and Rose is ok each time. She is afraid and burrows and climbs. She ends up looking out a window, mostly dirty, a glass darkly. She is glad she is safe and has a helper. The most recent one is one where a similar male figure is telling her he will help her with the healing Rose is trying to bring about to cure her, saying he will help her figure out how to use the oil for healing.

I am looking forward. I hope you are too as you sit in the present moment of your life and your dreams. Start your born again life with your dreams and a little recording book beside your bed. You will be happy for this awareness now and for the awarenesses it will bring to you as you go forward. I look forward to hearing from you. All Dreams and Art making are acts of Love. Love from Rose.

If you like the story above be sure to like and or comment. Thanks.

Posted in Dream Counseling, dreams, Magical Realism, Psychoanalytic | Tagged Active Imagination, Drawing the Dream, dreams and interpretation, Imaginal Writing, Story telling, storytelling | Leave a comment