Rose Longworth Counseling

Oil Drop

Posted on August 1, 2018 by rlongwort

She meditated in her office space getting ready for the day. She invited or rather got out of the way of something shining down on her and found something to weep about that was stored in her cells, some old and some recent memory storage. It is so peculiar what we find to weep about. The release felt good as it came at the time of quieting herself. Only after she wept was it left down at the alter. She hopes it will not bother her anymore and if she is tempted to go down that road and get in that hole again, she knows what to do to get out again. There is the promice, “I will bring everything to your rememberance” before the light obliterates it as the stuck memory it is. Stuck because she gave it much growth space in her, watering it with emotions, fears and tears, firing it with energy, airing it with her talk and of course growing it in the earth of her being. She might have to be often in meditation to keep ahead of her memory patterns.

Rose has a client who told her of a song that is on her mind all week. The client did not have a dream that week. They sang some version of it to make it real in the room. This week Rose has been singing in my head “I am going to the Chapel of Love.” The Chapel of Love corresponds to the Pineal gland in the body and in Revelations, it corresponds to the Church of Philadelphia. It is said to be the chackra in the body that is never corrupted by what ever decisions, choices that are made by the person. It is the place out of which the soul climbs after the life is over. It refers to Holy is Thy Name in the Our Father.

The geranium has put up two blooms and have put out the beginnings of a big bunch of delicate pink flowers and overnight it has put up two more flower heads. Rose is pleased, as if she gave birth to them myself. The earth, water, air and sunshine are all getting together for this flower. There is one little weed growing alongside it in the pot that she like to nibble on as she passes and praises the flowers. She poured some cold coffee water on them about two days ago. Maybe, like Rose, a little coffee was all they needed to be creative, give birth.

Violets hiding under leaves

From Samie’s garden next door.

The beautiful pink of the lily

Rose has an old friend with whom she has reconnected after twenty years. She gave Rose two bags of books, some Edgar Cayce titles. Her brother collected them for her, because of his precieved desire to fuel her interests, and she is in her nineties now. There is one book with a big section on dreams edited by Hugh Lynn Cayce called Edgar Cayce on Dreams. Rose found Hugh Lynn’s selections and his explanations easy to read. She was encouraged to see Edgar’s (Hugh Lynn’s father) interpretation and feels she can learn from his spiritual way of interpreting the dreams.

Dart Vader

Some years ago Rose had a girl tell her that Jesus came to visit in her dream, in blue jeans. She had an active spiritual life that included prayer, meditation and active church affiliation. There is a dream of God coming to visit in above-mentioned book. The dream God did not let the dreamer away with much and the dreamer became truthful as he realized that God knew him inside out.

Praying in Benares

I attend a poetry group led by Susan Facknitz, Ph.D at Our Community Place in Harrisonburg. I worked with the prose about a meditation (See Early Morning Meditation) that morphed into the poem below:

Early Morning Meditation –

A sideways fan of light

Sandwiched between the Walnut trees

Shines in her eyes

The sun rays rest on her heart

Over all plans and controls.

Mirrors in her the seed of her soul

Into its flight through the branches

Knows what way to go,

What shape to be, to hold the light

The sun blinds her into closed eyes

Into the Son of light, the Son of life

In laughter

Stillness shines down

The sun moved higher into other branches

Into her arm bones

And her back, straighter, straighter

In the truth of the tree

The Walnut was so satisfied to be sat under

It threw out all it got around her

In a nutshell

Drops oil into her cup

Rolls down through her

Until she is danced on

by a thousand tiny bird feet

Pushing her back to the womb

Where the original smallest crookedness

is corrected.

She watches the oneness of a leaf

Spinning free of the tree

There the tree took her in

Let her feel the roots and the sky

Where the go around is golden

Where the straight is light.

A dip in the River Bein

And if you want to work on your dreams, practice meditation daily, have an inner life where one eye looks to your outer world and one to your unconscious, then be sure to call me and start a new journey into your inner space, where the go around is golden and the straight is light. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged dreams, flowers, photos, poetry | Leave a comment

The Cream of the Leprechauns

Posted on July 25, 2018 by rlongwort

Mariah, the Leprechaun loves to watch her father milking the red white head cow. He always started with pulling a stool from the wall and setting it under him as he approached the cow’s elders, her sacks of milk. He was about 14 inches off the ground and the stool had some hay stuck to the two feet on it. Her father balanced on the stool, leaning it as needed, his head tight against the cows flank. He ran his hands over the teats knocking away any dirt and getting the cow ready to give over the load of milk, no longer destined for her calf but to be shared by the household, for better and worse, for butter and buttermilk, for cream for deserts and for milk for drinking.

This creamy concoction was poured liberally on porridge also in the mornings. He always said a few unintelligible words, maybe calling the cow’s name, Bessie, as he got ready for this work. As a child Mariah would listen at the cowshed door and hear the milk hit the bottom of the pail in a rhythmic splash up the sides catching air as it fell down into the bottom. The rhythm got faster as the milk flowed and as the up and down motions of her father’s hands settled into the release of milk from the cow. These sounds, three or four, sang to each other as the pail filled up with the warm sweet creamy milk until it reached the top, where a layer of creamy froth, over an inch thick, settled on the top, waiting for Mariah. She would run her index and middle finger through the top of the pail again and again until she was satisfied, and walked away with a few white smears on her face and clothes. She liked to come and see her father pour a half cup of milk into a lid for the cat to have every morning as a thank you for his efforts at keeping the population of rodents down.

Now that Mariah is all grown up, she still likes to get into that creamy milk top, but it is not tolerated by the dwarf who now milks the cows under Uishneach’s supervision. She had a dream of scoopong out cream from her dish, going up the side of the dish as Uishneach, talked. In the dream she was able to tune him out completely, no longer hearing a word he said. She fell into a trance of eating and was happy to miss the talk, whatever it happened to be at that time.

She thought she might run the dream by the Druid Bernie, in case she was missing something. She knew he liked cream himself, and noted that it could splash out the sides of his mouth as he fed himself with gusto, at a recent feast.

Druid Bernie came down the avenue followed by the hedgehog family. He was carrying a little bunch of leaves, neatly knit into a holder, into which he had put wild strawberries from the nearby banks of the avenue. He offered her some wild strawberries, as he sat and rested his legs on a flat tree stump covered with moss.

He told her to be the cream of her dream and Mariah launched into “I am the cream, I am so sweet and swirly on her tongue. As soon as I enter her mouth, I become her. I just know that I will have a long life transformed into white fat globlus all over her body. I will have a net work to work with, all over her body.” And what will Mariah get in return the druid asked? And the cream said in her silky voice, “ I transporte her back to her childhood, where cream and honey were her second loves. They blocked out the pains of not getting her own way. It blocked out the world of older siblings, of her mother’s demands for her. She just loved sitting at the table surrounding the honey or squatting beside that bucket using my fingers to have her fill of the foods of the land of milk and honey.” Mariah took a long breath considering what had just been said. Duuid Bernie noted she longed now for those foods and used them in the same way to block out what ever was unpleasant for her in her relationship with Uishneach. She sometimes wanted to live on her own but had not the courage to do this or talk openly with him about what they wanted to achieve together.

The druid suggested she focus on her own gold of looking for the gold of her life, of identifying that for herself and going about her own business. When would she fill up with the milk of human kindness and use that as the honey and cream that fills her up. It would be much more satisfying than the fat and sugar destined for her hips after a moment on the lips.

Mariah looked away down the lane and stared at the mother hedgehog who had wandered off. The druid was nodding off and his wild strawberries were at his feet being tackled by the young hedgehogs. Maria had hoped she would be able to bring the wild strawberries home and pour some thick cream onto them with honey and mash them all up with a fork before consuming them. She set off for home picking up some of her own wild strawberries, pondering what the druid said. The end.

The above photos were taken yesterday above EMU, as the sky was taken over by storm clouds as well as sunshine.

Rose drawing with her right hand and gathering her pencils up in her left hand.

Rose is doing battle with ants. They seem to have a psychic ability to figure out where she has been with the honey pot, where she left down an errant spoon or a drop of sweet tea, laced with milk and honey. They marshal forces and have a long line of ants carrying away what makes them sing. Rose is torn between wiping them away with a wet sponge followed by vinegar water and keeping the place very very clean everywhere. Her remedy of ant poison makes her feel guilty about the loss of ant life combined with being mostly ineffective. She thinks the ants use the honey to recover from the poison.

Morning Mandala

Writing in the diary, bring watched by the mother

And if you want to work with your favorite food that makes you unconscious mostly, behind which you love to hide, be sure to come and let me know if you want to work with your dreams. They will lead you home and the more you work with them the more they work with you. You can contact me through this site. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Arriving in Benares

Praying in Benares

Posted in dreams, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged art, dream interpretation, dreams, flowers, heart, Leprechaun story, milk and honey, storm clouds above EMU, storytelling | 1 Comment

A Dream about Pete The Cat

Posted on July 23, 2018 by rlongwort

Margot and I correspond about dreams and she says how she likes my writings and finds them inspirational. I found the following story about her Pete the Cat inspirational too, printed with permission of Margot. This is a story about the death of a cat and a dream afterwards that helped her accept his passing. I hope you enjoy.

“Then, there is a story about our cat whom we loved and lost just last week. Amber and I loved him so much like a great jewel of a gift – as he just appeared one day, from where?

I made up a song we sang about him:

Pete the cat, Oh Pete the cat.

He’s white and black.

That’s where he’s at.

A fine little animal, and that’s a fact.

Oh stop and have a chat with Pete the cat.

Pete the cat was a lonesome cat.

He had no family,

And that was that.

‘Till he found our house,

And down he sat.

Oh stop and have a chat with Pete the cat.

Pete the cat is a handsome cat.

With a pretty little Mama

And a great big Dad.

Could be his history,

But it’s a mystery…

So stop and have a chat with Pete the cat.

Then I had to make up a last verse:

Pete the cat, he didn’t come back.

He left one morning

And he didn’t come back.

We are so sad.

We miss that cat.

Oh Pete the Sweet, we hope you’re coming back.

Amber and I were gripped with an unbearable sense of doom as we called and searched in widening circles around the house. While I was up in the woods behind my garden I looked back and saw him following me, picking his way through the fallen trees. Then he disappeared and I couldn’t find any sign of an animal or a place to hide.

Later Amber found his body by the road further west. With Ian, we wrapped him in a beautiful cloth and buried his body. I laid some white wildflowers on his fur. We did a small ceremony.

The next morning I awoke with this dream:

I open the kitchen door and I see Pete sitting on one of the steps. He is nuzzling a white flower. I almost call Amber and then I think, oh no, I buried you yesterday, you’re in spirit.

The burial brought us some relief, and then the dream was a joy. Amber and I discussed how special he seemed, almost to have had a human soul. We only had him for a few months. Then I expressed the feeling that he could have embodied a visit from Vitae, and this might account for the shortness of his stay. Of course, this thought could be pure fantasy, but the effect that it had on us was like lifting a heavy pall of loss. And indeed, isn’t this something like a model for meeting all such moments of loss: we were visited by a beautiful guest who stayed as long as he could before stepping out of his cat suit in order to return to his greater being! There’s a big learning in there somewhere.

Violets hiding under leaves

I think that the cat I saw in the woods was Pete’s ghost, probably before he realized he was dead. He heard me calling and was just following along.

love, margot.

I put flowers and mandalas here for Pete the Cat. The real picture of Pete the Cat can be found on Margot Bergman’s Face Book Pages. Love from Rose.

Posted in Death, dreams, Interpretation, Uncategorized | Tagged art, dreams, flowers, Interpretation, photos | Leave a comment

A Dream and Meditation

Posted on July 21, 2018 by rlongwort

I have been waiting for a long time for this plant to bloom again

I often thought I should be writing when I am meditating as the images and thoughts that come to me out of the meditation, may all escape me like a half remembered dream, unless I write something down in the moment. I was awake before dawn a few times recently, having slept through the night into a good nights sleep. I was up and about before 5.00 a.m. Sometimes I sit out on the back deck, cloaked against the falling dew and morning breezes. The following is an account from last week:

The red flower is the star of the show today

Early Morning Meditation –A sideways fan of light sandwiched between the Walnut trees shines in her eyes, with the sun centered in the higher quadrant. This fan affects her heart, bringing her back to the center, winnowing out all plans and controls. The increasing light is mirrored in her, to warm the seed of her soul into its flight through the branches that know what way to go, what shape to be, to hold the light. The sun blinds her into closed eyes, into the son of light, the son of life, sitting laughing in her heart, sacred secret. Happiness isn’t a secret at all.

Violets hiding under leaves

The sun moved higher into other branches, creating other conjunctions in her arm bones in her back, straighter, straighter, like the truth of the tree. The Walnut was so satisfied to be sat under, it threw out all it got around her, now in a nutshell, dropping oil into her, where her arm bones and her hip bones are danced on by a thousand tiny bird feet obeying that Walnut tree, pushing her back to the womb, where the original smallest crookedness was corrected, leaving her alone.

The white post looks a little crooked here. She redid her porch making a screen with flowers.

She looks out into windows of light into other gardens of the morning, watching the oneness of a leaf spinning free of the tree. Two cardinals in unison flew through the tree window space, two little jets. There the tree took her in and let her feel the roots and let her feel the sky, where the go around is golden and where the straight is light.

A new Baby Mammalaria Elegens, still not too prickly to the touch. It is so round, like a breast.

A dream from the Shensara Yoga Festival:

I got a question from a woman about a recurring dream of being late to give her yoga class, not knowing where it is at, how to get there, and totally forgetting it was on until it is too late. I turned around the dream to ask the dreamer about her spiritual life and how she is forgetting, how she has lost her way, how she could be forgetting something so important. She forgot to go to a recent meeting and the unconscious used this event in her real life to pull before her the scenario of her spiritual life. We had some good long conversations before it was time for her to get in the water with some young people and do yoga with them.

The red flower from another angle – showing off the best red ever.

I bought a book on dreams and was given a book on dreams. I have to be rounding on my own self to see where the unconscious leads, where the intuition can be developed deeper in addition to the reading. The books are as follows: The Chocolate-Covered Umbrella by Tilda Norburg published by Fresh Air Books, and Kaballah and the Power of Dreaming by Catherine Shainberg published by Inner Traditions Rochester, Vermont.

A hedge clipper

The hedge is looking better at last

I had too dreams last night. The first I remember on the deck when I am out doing Qigong this morning with three others. I remembered I had cursed in the dream, at someone, who was a voyeur near some others and me. It was a male. The second was an image that came to me as I woke up. It was a Dart Vader type in my garden a little bit away from me. He is all dressed in black, small (like myself) and not so sure of himself.

A representation of the Animus, from a woman’s dream. She is not connected to her inner male energies and may need to be grounded as her lower half is not in picture.

Uishneach

Both are animus images, inner men. My rat snake has morphed into these two men images mentioned above. I did some work on the rat snake dream by drawing it and considering how to heal my hand and do body work, inner clensing, etc. Now I have this voyeur person in me that is interested in the gossip aspect of counseling but I have my eyes on this person and I take him on. I know to demand he get back behind me. I reaffirm I am like a priest who holds all that comes to her in therapy, as secret between her and the client.

The rat-snake

Then the male image comes back as the Dart Vader. It has been threatened and it tries to threaten me back. But again he is a little distance from me and I have a chance to see him. He is quiet ridiculous looking but I have to remember this aspect of me wants to take hold of the sword of light and wants to take it for the negative side. I am relieved to see him. I will do my art around him and see what else comes through. He was in the yard under the Wallnut tree. I am resolved to continue to seek protection within my spiritual practices.

Painting from back of Meditation Room at ARE

I made brownies from a bag of gluten free brownie mix this morning and put the left over porridge into it and some yellow cereal left in my panty after my son’s recent visit. The brownies turned out very sweet and good. I shared some with a neighbor after a moment of greediness relating to sharing. We discussed the possibility of capturing a dream, as he tasted some of the morsel. His wife is gluten free so I had to say they were gluten free except for the cereal, yellow, whose ingredients were no longer possible to check on as I had discarded the box. I put the rest of that cereal into the compost incase I would be tempted to use it again not knowing what the ingredients are.

A dip in the River Bein

And if you have any Dart Vader, archetypal character, in your dream that you need to draw and need to sit with, I will be happy to hold your hand metaphorically. I hope you schedule soon to look at your own organic images, like weeds in a garden, needing some observation and some cleaning up. I look forward to work with you.

I see my Dart Vader in the back of my mind and she is too hot, with all that black on her. I am laughing a little. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, meditation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged art, dreams, flowers, hedge, meditation, photos, Walnut tree | Leave a comment

Happiness isn’t a Secret

Posted on July 20, 2018 by rlongwort

The above is the title of one of Annabeth’s songs. She often sings it at shows as she did, with her band, Larkspur, at the recent Shensara Yoga Festival in Lurray by the Shenandoah River. Rose has been mulling over whether happiness is a choice and has been asking people about this. Gwyneth at the CO-OP said that as a teen she was unhappy and now is aware that she is choosing happiness. She did add on, that happiness sometimes is not a choice but that is only a temporary situation. When I ask her how she is she says “I am fantastic,” and she is.

At the Yoga Festival in Lurray, Rose treated herself to a Thai Massage. She initially asked the masseur if he had a dream, but he did not tell her one then. Rose then told him the recent dream. Before she started her dream, he laughed and said “I see we are doing dreams anyway.”

I was trying to draw my hand and talking as well. The drawing obliged me and just gave me a perfect depiction of the rat/snake. The drawing of such images is always a good thing as it gets it out of the unconscious and into the conscious.

His response to Rose’s little nightmare mentioned above was that he remembers a dream of lots of laughter, that he had, as he came out of a dream. He called it a happiness dream. He implied that the happiness was a choice for him. Rose can remember a few dreams in the recent years when she was laughing hysterically at something.

He noted at the end of the massage that he went lightly with his massage, as Rose’s body seemed to need such a treatment. He was pleased at his awareness of her need. He also shared a recurring dream of conflict over the years and laughed a lot at the dreams of fights where he did not “get my licks out.” He noted that his last dream of this sort, he won the fight. He is an accomplished professional who lives near his young grandson and feels he is a happy man.

Morning Mandala

Rose was sitting on the ground on a blue blanket, unsupported, at the main stage where music was being played, at the Samsara Festival. Rose went over to talk to a friend sitting on her own. As they talked on the shared blanket an African American Woman came over to them. It was now mostly dark and this woman was backlit by the stage. Her dark hair was tied up in many little buns all over her head. Rose could not see details of her face. She carried a lit cigarette type of incense that carried a lovely sweet scent. Rose followed the lit stick as it was woven all around her in circles, reaching out to one side and all around, back and front and up and down, high and low. Then Rose felt her bowed out unsupported back being pushed up straight. Then it happened a second time, pretty quickly in sequence, bringing Rose into a straighter alignment on the ground.

I want to go to the Festival

Rose was now sitting up tall and straight and the words “Are you getting this” were whispered into her ear. Rose replied, “I sure am.” Then the incense bearer was gone. Rose hardly stopped talking to her companion on the blanket as it all happened. Now the action is profoundly appreciated and felt. As Rose walks into her kitchen today, she straightens up her back. She cannot think what the woman used against her back.

Sitting up tall and straight

Rose wants to say her leg, but it was wider, and she wants to say a cane but it was wider still than that. The back straightener felt solid and woven of precious metals and held together with gold pushing golden light into her, making her aware of the need for her back to be straight in order to let the energy flow. Rose is happy to have had this experience happen to her at the Yoga Festival.

Rose asked her group members if they thought happiness is a choice and there was some silence. Then many conversations broke out all at once. They did not resolve it then. Rose’s own conclusion is that happiness may be a choice. And the caveat is that having decided that “I choose to be happy,” therefore I must accept everything that happens to me, including unpleasant interactions and disappointments. It is all grist for the psychoanalytic mill, to be kept in a safe homunculus of a bowl, to be observed, until such time as it gives up an explanation of what that was all about. This can come by way of a dreams and dream therapy, by way of just following the feelings back inside, and into childhood fodder and or even into past life situations, if you believe this is possible.

In this new moon time Rose is not getting many dreams. Last night she just got a wisp of some threads to consider. She thought she was at the River Bien in India, associated with Guru Nanak. Rose has lovely memories of being there. The fact that she went there may be connected with a past life, when she was more in the spiritual flow. He reminds her of Jesus. Guru Nanak was said to have went into the River Bien and was gone for three days. When he came back he was enlightened. Rose’s dream image was of the water flowing, with the pale green vegetation on top.

Rose’s friend Deidre Statton LCSW said on Facebook how glad she is that she had an opportunity to work with Therapists at JMU recently. She applauded their willingness to work on themselves. Rose also love to work with therapists and with any and all who want to do their inner work. And when the session is over she often has after thoughts about that bald headed woman image that appeared in a dream. As she has an afternoon rest, using one eye to focus outwards and one to focus inward she looks for the intuition and that bald head becomes a mirror and she gets more insight into the dream. She would like clients to come more often, in order to keep the energy going within the inner work.

I look forward to hearing from you and working with your dreams. I will continue to work on being happy and on working through what is mine and leaving alone what belongs to others, unless of course you are in therapy with me where I will have to look inward and outward at the same time. Contact me soon. Tempis fugit. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, Interpretation, Mandala, Traveling and Dreams, Uncategorized | Tagged art, Bodywork, dreams, flowers, photos, Shensara Yoga Festival, travel | Leave a comment

Prayers for Protection

Posted on July 18, 2018 by rlongwort

It was after 2.00am and Rose had two reasons to get up and meditate. She had read about the Dali Lama getting up at 3.30 am and meditating for hours and his saying that the meaning of life was happiness. Rose knows how this happiness infects her after a period of meditation. If she is not visibly smiling at everything and anyone, then at least her mood has improved ten fold. Peace that passeth understanding is the promise.

In the early morning infected with happiness

An account of a day with the Dali Lama, which Rose read on Facebook by way of U-tube amused Rose a lot. He decided to travel up to the ski slopes while visiting on the West Coast. His attention to people, his animation, his intuition to travel up to the place that reminded him of Tibet was all recounted in a beautiful way. The fact that he fell in the snow and was run into by a gaggle of teen girls on their skis was also hilarious, especially when the girls all ended up among the monks who had fallen down. No one was hurt, but the Dali Lama was hysterical with laughter. It took his caretaker, an American journalist awhile to realize he was not dead. The laughter was no doubt a gift from his gods, as were the girls falling on top of him and his monks.

Rose traveling in India.

The second reason to meditate was that Rose fell asleep before she finished up meditation properly, the night before. She had a nightmare to wake her later. Getting back to meditation in the morning also eluded her. She felt sure that a period of meditation would help. The following morning early, she went out to see the night sky in the new moon phase. Then she organized some airflow and sat near a window with some covering over her shoulders in a favorite chair, wide awake and ready to go.

Sometimes it takes a nightmare to focus her. Nothing like a little animal biting into her fingers to insure her attention. She had a hold of it be the jaws, it being somewhere between a grey rat and a snake. It was surprisingly strong and used its back legs to stay put, as she tried to pry it loose. Rose screamed as she called for help from her partner who did not materialize in the dream.

Mandalas on the front porch

Rose has always been careful to say prayers of protection and always felt protected by Jesus Christ, her favorite master. Now she is going deeper and needs to reaffirm her need for this protection, to be careful not to be taken down with the strength of inner energies she had not redeemed, or have not been redeemed by the Christ hub within. Help is there, is just has to be asked for.

Some notes from last night’s meditation

An opportunistic foot getting in on the photo.

She felt a crescent of light from her left heel to the left side of her head and it was in the shape of the crescent moon and as bright as that lover, lovely sliver of light in the sky. She leaned into it a few times during the meditation.

Crepe Myrtles in her Yard

The image of Jesus bent over sorting though where she had sinned, where she has pain. It is like in the fairy tales where there is the requirement of going through some impossible amount of stuff, to get redemption. This is when magical healing follows the request for help, plus endeavor, that can come overnight. Oh and the healing has to be waited for, for a long time too.

In her meditation the three baskets, pelvic, thoracic, and head were made of the light of crescents, one sitting above the other, in basket shape. The hydraulics of the energy coming down from above and up from below was more obvious to her. The energy crosses the solar plexus twice, first coming down from above and them backup to the third eye in the forehead from where healing energy can be sent out.

Trying to get into the body

Noticing the tongue touching the roof of her mouth brings her nearer to this third eye, the pituitary area, in the brain. She does a lot of thinking in that brain but actually placing yourself there is some times a challenge. She gets a glimpse of gold from there sometime in the meditation. At the end of the meditation she send out light through the pituitary gland. She asked for cleansing earlier in the meditation so that the energy is pure as it is directed outwards. Focus is needed here to leave down everything negative at the alter. She sends out love, light and healing to all those she works with, clients, other therapists, family and friends, her readers of this blog, as they come to her mind.

Pink Lilies on Franklyn Street

The breath is a great gift, as every time she remembers it, she is paying attention to the in breath and the outbreath, which is connected back into the place of meditation for her now.

Morning Mandala

My fingers on the left hand are painful letting me have the physical effect of that nightmare dream. I pulled out my steam cabinet and washed it down in the rain for an hour or two. It was languishing in the basement for the last few years. I also looked up the Edgar Cayce reading on arthritis and could pay more attention to inner cleansing. The steam helps the body release toxins through the skin. She will use some solutions in the water to help with the cleaning and to stimulate the body into healthier being.

Where Rose has her office in Harrisonburg, Virginia..

And if you are ever bitten by the snake or other not so friendly animals in your unconscious, I will be happy to work with you to reclaim your energies, and cleanse as you find your way into throwing that negative energy out of your body with the help of your unconscious. Today I worked with a client that was amazed at how a little dream brought up so much for her, old symptoms etc. And at the end of the session I was happy to bring the whole dream back to what she is attempting to do, through attending therapy. The client is doing her own work, genuinely from within, individual work that will bring her to working with claiming who she can be, who she came here to be.

Mandalas on the front porch

I would love you to make a comment on the above and to let me know your likes or otherwise. Your input, even a click of the like button, is very encouraging to me. Thank you and I look forward to hearing comments from you. Sending out love for you. Rose.

Posted in dreams, meditation, Uncategorized | Tagged art, Dali Lama, dreams, Mandala, meditation, nightmare, photos, Prayer | Leave a comment

What came home to roost

Posted on July 12, 2018 by rlongwort

In the spring, Rose told you about two vultures living in a dormer window on a house on Wolfe Street. Rose took some pictures and posted them. Then she did not see them for months. However this Saturday what should jump up on the ledge above, out through the window but a young vulture? It had rust looking fur framing its face and looked very slim compared to the grown vultures. When the chick realized Rose was not one of its parents bringing food, it stretched its wings and jumped back into the attic and out of sight. Others sighted the parents.

The dormer back in March 2018.

Today, as Rose rode her bicycle up the street, carrying a large water melon from the Co-Op, she looked up at the dormer window and it was empty. Then she happened to glance at the side dormer window away from the sun and the two young vultures were preening their feathers. She smiled at their cuteness.

Rose was all geared up to see a client, who after much delay finally was coming for a session in Rose’s little office off downtown Harrisonburg to work on dreams. Rose even changed her dress and washed her face. All the dirt is gone without trace. She just had to wait.

A drawing about the lean and the fat plate

She waited, and looked outside, but no one looking for her place. She sat down listening to her fountain, listening to air conditioning hum. Done and dusted she felt busted. She checked her message system only to find she was cancelled.

“Get over yourself Rose,”she said to herself. When a new grandbaby visits, it is time to cancel. Next morning at her place of part time work her second and third counseling event was cancelled. The kids had gone to camp. Both events will surely do more good to her clients then an hour with her can.

From Samie’s garden next door.

Rose flung herself back on her couch, to sleep, to meditate, to what she wondered. Two whole hours and lunchtime available. She likes to read Robert Bly and his book “Iron John” when she has slow moments. Today she tackled the hot outdoors and went to the market to get some of those marvelous tomatoes and lettuce still to be had.

There she got a market dream. Rose tried to get the dreamer to see it as a message from the higher self . The motif was of cheating and legal trouble. “I am honest” and she is. But she is cheating herself out of the truth of the imaginable. She is cheating herself out of a metaphorical way of thinking; She is cheating herself out of looking for answers from within. The dream said she would have to pay. The dream says there is a price to be paid, for not being honest about her spiritual life and that was Rose’s interpretation.

Morning Mandala

Rose forgets the exact words used from the dream. There is a price to be paid for expecting a concrete fix to a problem when she needs to get input from the imaginary, to solve it. Rose thought the dream was a comment by the unconscious. There is a price to be paid for every short cut. Or it could be about the price being paid for not extending the spiritual life beyond a concrete adaptation with a few words of prayer, here and there, added in. Rose also rounded on herself to see how she is cheating herself.

Rose wishes she could remember which dream inspired this picture. She will have to look in her dream leaflet where it is recorded.

Sometimes, people do not have dreams. Then a drawn mandala can be the subject of the session, or a walk where a client yielded up a citing of a wild animal. In the depressed person, Rose will pay attention to the figures that are drawn, and what Rose can tell about them. She asks questions; what does the figure remind you of? What if it is dressed in all orange? What if the figure looks like a mythical figure, a werewolf or a little vampire or little big foot. She may not talk too much about what is the archetypal meaning of the image at first. The client gives her information about their characters that inform the particular situation of the person with the image and she can watch the energy change, as they work each week. The dreams change and the material drawn also changes. It is a pleasure to watch this happen. The pure natural self within the psyche will rise up as surely as a tree has a true natural self that presents itself according to its seed.

Watercolor

Rose’s blog about the Leprechauns is a fantasy of Rose’s making, based very loosely on Irish lore about leprechauns. She does not care much if the facts of her writing are just that, fantasy, but she wants there to be a vein of truth running through. This is the most important part of this writing. Thank you for reading and for letting her cut her true teeth in this way, in this writing. Please like it if you do, comment if you do or do not like it. All input is helpful to Rose.

The stop sign is a command to Rose to STOP. She will not stop writing but could stop complaining.

And just to cap off her day, she got a little furious with her other half, and this was followed by a dream of the end of the world and Rose being carried out to the bathroom in a lurid pink dress. When she talked to another Rose in the hot tub about her dream, they both saw the funny side of this and laughed a lot. There was no need to explain anything about this dream. Rose just needs to take a big dump instead of dumping her anger on her other half. And the lurid pink color appeared earlier in the day in someone else’s drawing. That was a fun connection too.

The pink of the morning sky

The beautiful pink of the lily

And if you want to get past the fantasy, have truth be your identity, then I recommend you work with your dreams and drawings. I will be there to hold your hand and to supply guidance. I will watch you laugh at your own associations and see you get delight and beauty out of yourself as you stretch into who you truly came her to be. It is all around about us. Love from Rose.

Eye in the center

Morning Mandala

The toad

Drawings by Rose mostly. A client drew the one on the bottom right. It was of me. I liked it a lot especially the boots and the hair. Pretty perfect don’t you think?

Posted in dreams, Mandala, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged anger, art, dreams, flowers, Imaginative writing, Mandala, photos, Prayer | Leave a comment

Leprechauns and their thoughts -Part 2

Posted on July 8, 2018 by rlongwort

Part 2

Her fleeting thought that the druid would agree with her and her need to be in this place of grievance, to be right, had to be abandoned. She knew better. “You want to follow the spirit, you want to get rid of the weeds, so you have to consider that everything that is happening to you is the spirit’s way to help and heal you. You have to let the bed of weeds die off by letting go of giving it attention. You have to let the bed of weeks die off by focusing on where you want to bring your own life now, and you especially have to let the bed of weeds die off by accepting they are your very own weeds” is what he concluded for her. He was out of breath. The fire in his pipe was out.

She told him her prayers seemed to stay below and she had trouble throwing them up to heaven. She had lit a candle or two to help her resolve it. She had meditated daily but always seemed to end up in the place of airing her thoughts about the whole thing from her point of view and breaking the censor of her prayer at the alter and being back in the place of weeds and tares. She looked at the marks in the mud again, telling her of her other lives when she took advantage of her power over others. “In the end you do not get away with any jot or tittle of wrongdoing, as it comes back to haunt you later” he said.

He became quiet as he relit his pipe. He poked out the black and burned and put in the new. Then when he was finished he suggested they pray and meditate, as was their won’t in silence. “This time it will be different” he said, telling her to be very clear about what she wanted and the way would open for her. “What is your ideal? And pray into that” he said.

She asked that Love be in her heart and that understanding would come to her so she could be happy again. She asked that the spirit of Love be her defense, and that this Love would make her heart upright. It did not matter how others treat her, it was not her job to correct others, but to see beneath to the karmic interactions that kept them apart. She might have to accept she had something to do with the difficulties she is experiencing with others. She was meeting karma from a past life . If she was less than helpful to the person who was causing her problems, then she was compounding her karma. She had to go back to it a number of times. She stayed mostly in this prayer.

At some point she felt a shift and could see her heart straightening up. All those Lilliputian strings holding down her heart in a crooked way, sprung loose. The Love made for her heart showed itself with a glow in the back of her heart and in that moment those strings that held her down were severed asunder and she jolted into a straightening up. She got a spirit of understanding that the spirit of Love is real in everyone and she can be in that way, as long as she holds LOVE as her ideal, and measures herself against it every day. It is a visceral feeling to be found inside in the heart. The feeling comes through in the act of reching for Spirit in meditation.

She could go ahead and skip all her grumping around, her bad mood, her ego insistence on a cloaking cloak of weeds and go right to the heart, skip into that pot of gold in the heart and ladle that all over everything, love in food, love in lovemaking, love in doing, love in going about. Bringing down the mantle of Love in Meditation was the answer for her now.

Pink Lilies on Franklyn Street

When she opened her eyes again one of the little hedgehogs was rooting around in her bag and pulled out a crust of her bread and was enjoying it. It was a piece of crusty sour dough bread she was particularly fond of.

Before she could think about it she shooed the hedgehog away and even though she followed the shooing with “I am sorry,” the hedgehog dropped his crust and ran for its life trying to catch up with the family. She resolved to replace this automatic shooing away of love and replace it with “I accept and I am sorry.” as there was a reason always for what ever turned up in her life. The end.

Morning Mandala

And if you want to work with me in establishing your spiritual goals, work through some blocks, figure out the magic of love, be sure to call and make an appointment.

And if you see me going around with lots of wayward Lilliputtian strings going in all directions on my head and all about me you will know I am working hard to curl them up and not look so strange. I am working hard to bring the ideal of love more fully into my life through diving into the well of love filled through meditation, already behind the door in my heart. I pray for you, you can pray for me, as I am always standing in the need of prayer. Love from the well of love in my heart. May it find yours in great form too. Love from. Rose

Watercolor

Posted in dreams, Leprechaun, Mandala, meditation, Uncategorized | Tagged dreams, Karma, meditation Interpretation, past lives, photos, Prayer, Story as Dream, storytelling | Leave a comment

Leprechaun Thoughts

Posted on July 6, 2018 by rlongwort

Watercolor

– Part 1

So when Mariah found herself tightly connected to Leprechaun Roisin Dubh through her thoughts, she was not happy with this constricting feeling she was having every time she thought her thoughts. She had quiet unhappy thoughts, thoughts coming in as a frumpy frog, coming to visit her through the door of her mind.

The toad and how Mariah saw him

In fact she thought she heard a knock on the door, but when she looked straight out, there was no one there. But a big grey green toad hopped passed her before she could slam the door shut. He almost tripped over her foot but recovered himself in his jump forward. He made his way to the opening over the stream the house straddled and disappeared down there. She wished he would stay away from her water source. Mariah mumbled about manipulation and her feathers were ruffled with the frog. She thought she heard a laugh coming up from the household watering hole.

Hollyhocks are in bloom in the neighborhood.

Sometimes Mariah said she would have to do something about her thoughts and other times she would loose it into thinking she had to do something about the person, causing her unhappy thoughts. She liked to say “they are making me mad.”

The actual toad

She had been airing her grievances to any and all who would talk to her, any and all unsuspecting friends from whom she wanted affirmation. There was no straight and narrow lane here for her. The broad and fiery street of complaint seemed easiest, default mode.

A narrow lane

She could not get away from her own self and her thoughts and her need to air them. It was a good story and everyone would see it from her angle and agree. If they did not she would go over it from another angle and get an investment from others sooner or later in her affairs. Even the hens had to listen to her. She worried about what kind of eggs they would produce. Perhaps they would stop laying altogether. She had stopped laughing.

And when not airing the thoughts to others, she took a hold of those thoughts and buried them in her gut, a place to grow things, a place of incubation achieved by looking at the grievance from every angle, watering it with tears and with emotions, spinning it one way and then the other. She warmed them with her intense looking, like shining a sun on them and setting them to growing. That looking from every angle brought energy to them and multiplied them in her darkness like a cancer. They were becoming a forest of frightening weeds ready to choke her at any minute. She knew she was backing up the wrong weed but felt powerless to do anything about it. Those weeds invaded her meditation and prayer times too.

Rose’s painting of Hollyhocks completed some years ago with Margot Bergman as teacher. She grew hollyhocks at her hose. We painted there for a week.

So after a great loss of time thinking about all this, Mariah sat into a lonely ditch, suitable for a rest, with her dour outlook, her dark thoughts and her even darker feeling. She felt she might be on her own Aegean stable of roots, created by her personality over the last fifty plus years. She was growing some seeds and they were not of love. More likely the tares and thistles of the ditches in her mind, were growing long and winding roots, connecting to other roots. Maybe she might suffocate in the here and now of the ditch of her own making.

A Myrtle Street Lily

She saw the Druid coming in her direction. The baby hedgehogs were now more grown and were still following him, stopping to forage and running to catch up with him. He was like a little conductor with a hazel wand in his hand talking to them. A bird of two also seemed to be accompanying him. A rush of affection came over her as he came nearer to her. She thought of kissing his feet. She restrained herself.

Whirls were growing not the old tree trunk

The hedgehogs thought his story was funny.

Thank God he is here, she said, even as she also thought she might hide her complaints from him. When he looked directly into her eyes with his piercing blue ones and asked how she was really doing, she spilled the porridge of her held in heap, out in front of him on the lane. He made a few marks on the mud with his hazel wand and made note of her confession. He set out that she was part of this group because they always reincarnated together. They married each other, they made promises, they had problems, they loved each other and because she had some karma with them. Sometimes they did not want to face these problems from the past, He was putting his own angle on her whole affair.

The other cat

Past life whippings, a ship-master in the Mediterranean, a less than kind caretaker were all depicted in the mud. A quick laugh was not the right reaction but it escaped her as she adjusted and balanced against the current pain. It brought awareness to the pain of not getting her own way, the pain of being blocked. She was not keen on walking in the shoes of her past lives. His little pictographs caused her to stared and the scenes that went before her eyes were of her sins from other times. To be continued soon ….

Getting on a boat to visit Lough Ree

Rose continues to work with her body issues. It is the morning and she is sitting very comfortable on her hips and with little notice needed of her body needs. She is reading of ways to use the imagination to work with imagining what the pain needs. Being a little child about it is part of the exercise, as in do what ever occurs to you, what ever you intuit. She can keep the faith in this asking for healing. Spending time in the body at night, going into the painful area is good. This is not just thinking about it in the head. Go in there, see what you find and watch the area of pain change. The imagination has to do something about what it sees in there, especially if it is red etc.

And if you have frogs knocking on your dreams be sure to call me, IM me, or otherwise contact me through this site. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Rose’s painting of Hollyhocks completed some years ago with Margot Bergman as teacher. She grew hollyhocks at her hose. We painted there for a week.

Watercolor

Posted in dreams, Interpretation, Leprechaun, Uncategorized | Tagged art, druid, hedgehogs, Leprechaun story, photos, storytelling, Thought and their effect on you | Leave a comment

Happy 4th and a little dream

Posted on July 5, 2018 by rlongwort

I am aways lookign for the bridge into the unconscious.I put the two stones on the top left onto the bridge of stones I found there already.

Spending the 4th of July at the River was a great idea. The water was cool, the trees were shading, the rocks were magnificent, the imagination was held in the best way possible. It was a pleasure to be with family, and there was of course something that happened that could be brought into the land of symbol and dream.

As Rose and her family finished up lunch there at the George Washington Park, a big white dog with different colored eyes proceeded to defecate in the watering hole on Black’s River. He was not on a leash and came there accompanied by three more dogs. A certain little fear of strange dogs prevented anyone from holding him away from the water. The owner, came on site, a youngish man, and he talked of embarrassment and he ran to his car for plastic bags to do some cleanup. Clumps of the slightly altered dog food sat on stones in the water, blending in with pale brown colors. A black, almost lab, dog barked in Rose’s face. She turned away as she feared the dog might see her hostility. The owner told the dog loudly to not “shout at strangers.” She felt pretty intimate with this family of dogs by now. Everyone mumbled that they never seen a dog do that before.

The river ignores any and all insults or does it?.

Rose and her family watched the feces, ready to point them out to the dog owner when he got back. Meanwhile the white dog continued to do what he had intended, what he had been hoarding for some time and deposited a foot more of less-formed feces in the water. There was some smell involved. There was some disgust. Rose watched as the bag of watery feces grow. They never found the last deposit. Rose and her family moved upriver to the dam in Riven Rock Park.

The airport of the chakras

That night Rose had a dream of traveling again. She was already in the foreign land. She did not know the language. She wanted to find the airport to go back home. She did not have the address of her hotel to go back and get her things. It was a strange feeling. No one out there could help her.

A dog of sorts from her unconscious

Rose knows how she may interpret this for another person, as it is a recurring theme in dreams. She might say, “You need to redirect yourself so that you can find your way. What you are doing is not working,” or some such segway into the dream material. However she found a different slant for her own interpretation.

If she gets lower, she can see out through the bridge to the pure water flowing arough the big rock.

She got a little smile going as she remembered her old mentor presenting a type written form, years ago. This form was a source of great mirth to her mentor. The form included some statement that you sign up for life, that you will be in a foreign country, that there is an other language involved. Other things on the list included the fact that you may feel compelled to change your spouse, your living arrangements and your job to name but a few. Most of these have already happened to Rose.

Rose is liveing again with her ex, after 16 years.

In this dream Rose does not know the language, even if she has been putting herself in the way of concentrating herself into getting a hold on this new inner language. She sees that there is no going back, there is no forgetting what you know, that a vow of going deeper into the center will not readily let you return to the past and live happily ever after there . Also it is a good idea for her to remember what she does not know.

The unconscious is a country, in which Rose is travelling. Her work is all about that foreign country, both your and hers. She just squeezed herself into another layer of it as evidence by her intense struggles both outer and inner. She has to believe and does believe in this morning, circumscribed by meditations, that she is on the right path, that she can smile in the face of everything, She can even take that happening at the river as a symbol for her. After all she had intense feelings. It happened to her. And dogs are said to be guardians of the next place to go in her unconscious, The dog is letting her know that there is a lot of releasing going on as depicted by the feces, that she has to not contaminate the river of her own life with her past happenings and that the water of life, is pure and available for immersion. A new way, the old way, for her own way.

Light in the water

And if you want to work on squeezing into the next layer of the unconscious in yourself, be sure to book an appointment with me in my home office. The old mentor said, “Will you take this work on or will it take you, as you go kicking and screaming feeling the unfairness of life, the injustice etc.”

Rose enjoying the river as seen in this lovely selfie of family

I will light a candle, I will light some intense, in an effort to bring in more light within our session and in an effort to have the mind affected by that marvelous sense, opened through the nose, into that golden bowl just behind the eyebrows. We will make an effort to step into an understanding of the center, of the joy, beauty and delight to be gained through this work, through this wrestling some of the unconscious material from your very own dreams, into your present moment and putting it in its proper place. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged dream interpretation, dreams, rivers in Virginia, travel | Leave a comment

Rose Longworth Counseling

Oil Drop

The Cream of the Leprechauns

A Dream about Pete The Cat

A Dream and Meditation

Happiness isn’t a Secret

Prayers for Protection

What came home to roost

Leprechauns and their thoughts -Part 2

Leprechaun Thoughts

Happy 4th and a little dream

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