Moriah and What Happened under the Bedclothes.

Moriah was in bed as she often was. She liked to go to bed at nine and get up when ever she woke up in the morning, usually between seven and nine, depending what the sun was doing. She had the habit of waking for two hours in the night to get into the silence of herself. This she liked to do, while she stretched her leg out of the bed to loosen up the sciatica area and or hang her head over the end of the bed and feel the stretch through her neck.

Hanging off the bed

Then she might be chanting or singing at the same time. It had to go on in her head because she was now sleeping with her new man, Garoidi.  If he was snoring loudly she could let some notes out into the air. However they had to coincide with his uvula flapping loudly.

The only problem was that her new room mate did not seem to understand her habit of stretching, meditating, being quiet and generally that Moriah is trying to be in another dimension, in the night. He did not understand that she believed that being touched in this time messed up her concentration and her energies. 

A little conflict

Initially she went up to the loft to sleep and do her meditation and that was a fine arrangement for both of them as they could be together at times and Moriah could still have her space to pray, upstairs. He made great efforts to bring her into the same bed as him and after some time she found she liked sleeping with him and would meditate separate from him, while bring together most of the night. 

As time went by and the winter came and the cold nights, she especially liked to lay her hip bones up against his back and feel the warmth spread through her. He was like an angel with fire in his wings keeping her toasty and warm. She got in the habit of meditating along side him. She got a new bed and with the extra room she felt she could stay put to meditate on the other side of the bed. 

He was blue in the face trying to figure out her shenanigans.

He did not understand this habit of hers. When she had moved away from him to the edge of the bed, he wanted to put hands on her to be sure she was there, to be sure she was his.

Moriah would tell him that when she was meditating he had to stay over there on his side of the bed and she could be separate, talking with God. He said he wanted to go along with that but in the dark of the bedroom at night, he felt like he was in the under world, that somehow in that silence, when her breath was so quiet, he felt aloneness and that she was gone, like a ghost without substance, perhaps she would melt into nothingness and he felt she was gone from him completely.

Maria did not have a lot of sympathy for Garoidi when she would feel him waking up, and half see him in the dark, on a moonlight night,  feel him through the bed clothes raising his arm up into the air, pivoted so that it was over her and come down silently, quietly, delicately onto her breasts. 

Moriah got a little mad at him.

As time went by, her patients seem to dry up more and more and as that hand pivoted and came towards her she would slap it away not careful that her nails didn’t touch him and mumbled that she was meditating and he had to stay over there. 

After she pointed her index finger at him in the dark, that seemed to have the effect of moving him over onto his side, like a bolt of lightening. He might move a little towards that side of the bed, his side of the bed, grumble, yawn loudly and not take his feet over to his side of the bed. Moriah had to go down with her feet and push them over towards his side of the bed, and like a baby that was being smothered under the blankets, violently push his errant feet, with two short kicks. Then the feet might move over an inch or two to his side of the bed.

Moriah lost in her own madness

He wondered if some barrier between them would do the trick, and said he was handy with wood and could create a wooden barrier with two holes in it to facilitate relations but otherwise they could be separate. Moriah felt a little huffy at this suggestion. He seemed pleased with himself, having found a manly solution to the issue. 

In the bed

He said he wanted to understand what she wanted but felt Moriah was kicking him slowly but surely out on to the wet window sill. Moriah wondered why he could not leave her alone in this time of her reaching. Lucky for Moriah he did not seem to hold a grudge toward any of these activities during the night coming from Moriah. He professed to love her dearly and Moriah could feel his heart felt care for her especially after meditating. He was like a warm light nearby lying there with lighted wings of love. 

In meditation

As Moriah meditated she was drawn inwards even as she was rolled out like dough again and again and came together as a scroll along her back bone. She would not give in to the cries for sleep or sex, or for any other activities while she meditated on her back.The end.

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All Songs and Dances Considered

The Hindu chant meet Christian hymns and Christian meditation meets kundalini yoga.

Dancers in the Back Bone

The silence pulls the light of attention up through the thick grease of my backbone; The silence creates a way there, where a crowd of dancers come up and the leader of the dance has light feet. I barely feel the steps in my backbone. It is the dancers in the Degas paintings; it is the question about the dancers for only one answer is the right answer. “I am the leader of the dance says he.”

As I go on with the chant the dance goes on. The dancers do the vine dance catching hands circling around, being led. The delicate feet of these dervishes reach down to put something in place in the ground of my being that has been out of place for a long time . I smile and they go on their way and the silence surge softly backwards when their light feet are truly gone leaving me with the traces that their delicate hands leave behind and their delicate foot work imprints in me. I feel their plans to prosper me and not harm me. 

From a Dream over twenty years ago – naked in a cave making my own walls.

I am playing the hymn “let me be your servant too” because the tune has been so attractive to me recently. Dancers come to be my servant, to heal me and hold me and make me smile from ear to ear and to put me into fits of laughter and joy.

The Dreams

Healing Medicine Buddha – I had a dream of a huge Medicine Buddha in my back yard. I was doing mindfulness meditation at that time.

In one dream I was investigating several brown paper bags, all brought in by Sandy. In each one, there was different homemade cakes. (Sandy bakes a mean cake when she puts her mind to it.) I was looking for the very best one. I kept taking small bites out of them but none were quite right.(A bit like baby bear, I think.)

Maybe my dream above about the cake is about the tv I watch, beset by ads for medications that list 100 different bad side effects. The ads are many for brains and breathing. After an hour of ads spliced into my game shows, watched nightly for four months now,  I know the strange names of these meds. Not much really good cake there, for me but they have it right, the brain, thinking, the heart, breathing are our two most useful tools on this path.

My mother’s iconography – Child of Mary Medel from when she was in boarding school, early 1930’s and “The Holy Face of Jesus” brought home from Lourdes by my Great Grandmother in 1950’s.

The dream from the young man where he shoots another and then the chase is on.He is cornered, uses disguise, at the woman’s insistence, and then is off again. He is cornered again and decides to “give up.” Has he hit a certain degree of acceptance or will the next dreams tell me where his next move lay. 

The heart chakra woman from the dreams pointing the way to the helpers.

The dream of the young woman, Mary, who in her dream pulls off her gold glasses and finds that behind the glasses, she has a jewel encrusted flesh around her eye and that there is a probe going on into her brain through the eye.

From the Dreams

I though of that advertisement where the character is asked if his glasses are real gold and he suddenly sits forward and says “Is there another kind of gold I do not know about.” He may not know about the gold  “tried in the fire.” Perhaps Mary’s ministry has some extra special help when she turns and tries to heal others, be a servant.

The above dreamer, Mary,  had an accident, is not hurt but says “everything is slowed down.” I am interested in this slowing down. There are more accidents all around in our thinking and slowing down in meditation will help us with this. 

Staked through the Heart – pinned to the wall. It can be an agony in the garden to make changes.

The accident of thinking that success is possessions. The accident of forgetting that we are spiritual beings. The accident of forgetting the spiritual gifts of healing. The accident of forgetting we are our brothers keeper. Being a servant will be so helpful to remember. 

My client talks to me of her anxiety, as an achievement, about which she can do nothing. We identified it as a lump inside and no point in adding to it. How about a minute for every year of your life on a daily basis devoted to The Word or what ever word you need, to keep you in the way of finding your way out of the coma, sleep we find ourselves in. 

A Doodle at Bible Study – referencing a dream where I was been examined and poked to see what was wrong with me.

I am playing the melodica. I am a little in love with “Morning has broken” in the hymnal. The words at the end sing of the garden “sprung in completeness, where his feet pass.” The other words are saying about birds… “Praise for them springing Fresh from the word.” Life is one big mystery/miracle.

My Bible co-studiers say that the Word is it and the Bible is the word. Unless we personally imbue the words with the spirit, it is a dead thing. TheWords are no use unless we get a hold on some bit or other until it is embued with the spirit.

More snow this morning but not as much as this lot.

I heard the bird chirping near by this cold cold morning where the porch temperature is climbing above freezing as I sit out all bundled up. Nobody was out earlier, just a door opened and a juicy curse fell out. Saturday morning coming down? 

Mandala

 It is just after 12 noon now. Everything, the snow, even me, has sprung fresh from the Word. There are saints and Mystics to consider. Our thinking is what creates us, for good or ill, or in balance in the Tree of Life of ourselves. Meditation is one of the secret tool, talking to God/Goddess is the secret tool. The embruing comes from the time alone, in silence opening to The Spirit being poured down on from above. 

Jesus is an example of One who got in touch with the Father and had a hold on the Word to the point where miracles happen. He noted before he climbed away from his ministry that we can all do great miracles. Go talk to him or your favorite Saint or Mystic,(Male or Female) or Master and look for that Appian Way, up the backbone to God. It is your very own personal thing. Love from Rose.

That Little Light of Mine ….

PS Prayers please – you for me and me for you. 

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Dreams and Dancers

Dreams are stories that have something to tell us. They hold the key to what gets opened that comes through from our soul’s desire. It is a combination of putting together what we need  and looking at what new developments and lessons are coming our way.

From the Dreams

Many dreams have difficult elements to them. Nightmares come through with torture and trauma, shootings and runnings. These are  the forever elements in the nighttime landscape. There is not just hardship but some kind of a pull of the soul’s desire to bring us into ourselves and some ball of twine, gordian knot, some scheme of dream has to be undone.

From the dreams

When we are in a dreamed centered life we can go home to ourselves and satisfy the longing of the soul to be heard. Even if the dreams are not pleasant, they still come out of our home place. Learn to be comfortable sitting into the dream. These dreams are time events and they may be hard ones but we need to develop a relationship with the dream. 

We have to care about it;  we have to look at it, even have to have a little bit of love for the dream.  The way to do this is daily practice going forward, at least one hour a day, to spend  time on these extra ordinary events. They are difficult and they are different but they will bring us into an “at-home-ment,” an at-one-ment,  an-attain-ment within us and an at-tune-ment with the unconscious.

From the dreams

My next dream last night after writing the above is about two chickens. One chicken has been let go and a fox is running around after it at a little distance. The second chicken is between my two hands and I can not let it go, its dirty feet are inches from my face and they are straining away from the sight of the fox toward my face. I am asking for help and want to let it go. Nobody is helping and it does not seem to be time to let it go. If I let go my face will be scratched with those dirty feet. 

From a session

Associations: These chickens are like those that are carried in the great big trucks with cages piled high and chickens packed in. The truck flies past with loose feathers getting away and usually a fairly good stench to assault my nose. My association to the fox is the devil, stealer of chickens in my childhood and a generally very frightening animal that might pounce on me when I closed in the hens late at night.I would become airborne as I sailed back into the lighted house from the hen house. In my dream I am not afraid of the fox at all, only of being torn by those chicken feet. 

It is a difficult dream and may have been repeated in the past with some other animal. But chicken it is today. I wake in the night to meditate but not before I go back and forth with my dream. The chicken feet are determined to claw my face. The chicken is determined to pull off my persona so I can be in “My real face.”  l would like to throw away anything that would help me get inside the persona, happily give it to the fox. I should be thankful for this scratching beneath the surface of the persona that will bring me in contact with what lives beneath.  

The mandala below brings associations to transformation and to coming to the place of being ready for change. (I am a MARI trained teacher now.)

After this conclusion I settle down to meditate after stretching and massaging my sluggish bones and brawn. I am doing my christian version, starting with the Our Father and going up through the chakras in my back as I go along. I do a “aaarrreeeeeummm” in a long breath feeling vibration going through my throat up through the center of my brain where the chakra associated with God is closest. 

This image came from a dream a young woman shared in session

Yesterday I saw birds land on someone’s hand(Facebook connection,) as she holds out food for them. It took me a while to realize the food was on someone’s hand. The bird landing on the side of her hand took a lot of control and determination to balance.

In my meditation it was as if a dovelike, big white bird comes in behind me and the wings are down my arms and I see light, white and feel a lift, carried. I am being shown something new, feeling into a new way. I am delighted with this and thankful that this has happened. I send it out in my healing prayers for my readers and all on my healing list. 

The Hindu chant meet Christian hymns and Christian meditation meets kundalini yoga.

It pulls the light, the attention, up through the thick grease of my backbone and it creates a way there where a crowd of dancers come up. The leader of the dance is of light feet and I barely feel the steps there, in my backbone. It is the dancers in the Degas paintings, it is the question about the dancers, for only one answer is the right answer.

As I go on with the chant the dance goes on. The dancers do the vine dance catching hands circling around, being led. With a delicate hand they reach down to put something in place in the ground of my being that has been out of place for a long time. It makes me smile and they go on their way and the silence of white snow, full of sunshine, feathers settle in around me when the light feet are truly gone leaving me with the traces that their delicate hands leave behind and their delicate foot work does no harm in me.

Even without sunshine on the snow it is very beautiful when it first falls.

I am playing the hymn “let me be your servant too” because the dancers have come to be my servant to heal me and hold me and make me smile from ear to ear and to put me into fits of laughter and joy.

You meditate and pray for me and for your loved ones and of course for the best of your enemies. I have a practice that falls over seventy minutes usually. I feel the winds of change circling, vine dancing us, and I am glad to be here with you now. Love from Rosemarie.

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Incoming New Soul arrives with the New Year.

I have a habit of praying for incoming souls in general for the last fifty years. But I usually just have one or two I know about personally that I am praying for at any given time. Once I met a dad who was the father of twins. I had a slightly awkward moment explaining to him my prayers for his twin daughters. I told him about praying for incoming souls. I told him that sometimes I had a time trying to find an incoming soul in particular to focus on. He seem to understand and we both laughed.

The baby next door, for whose soul I prayed in advance, is now seven months old. It was a great pleasure to watch him watching his family dog, while carried by his father, a morning walk. 

A visit to the river is a must on New Years – even if I did not get into the water.

The little boy could not get enough of that dog walking beside him. Even-though his face was turned away from me I know it was full of delight and interest because that is the way he looked at me the other morning, as he smiled at me. 

For the last few months I have been praying for my other neighbor’s gestating baby. She was born right before New Year’s. 

At the end of my meditation as I prayed for her, I would focus on that particular baby and my face would break out in a big smile. It never failed to happen and I prayed for them every day, after she told me she was pregnant about six months ago. When the baby was not faced down for the birth I spent some extra time imagining the baby turning and being ready for the birth. 

I heard that the midwives surrounded her, the mother, one evening and literally turned the baby into the correct position with their encouraging hands manipulating her pregnant belly. If the mother got worried, they would see this and reassure her and at last it happened, and the baby was facing down and stayed there, with just a few weeks left before the birth. 

This evening I saw the baby outside on the father’s chest and I walked over. The father was wearing a blanket around him, and  the baby was cosy. 

He told me of that most special time of being behind his wife, holding her, as she pushed the baby into life. He said that he got into it fully when he started to shout words of encouragement to his wife when the pushing time came. 

Sitting out at the river with a friend

Later she told him that the shouting was the most helpful thing, in that hectic time when the last stages of pushing for birth are happening. He gesticulated with his arms as he told me of the shouts and he leaned back at he told me how his body seemed to get into energetic action in pushing the baby forth.

When he lay at home on his bed twenty four hours later, he could feel the energy still coursing through him, down into his hands and through his whole body. The holiness of the moment and his willingness to get into the flow of the birth of his baby daughter brought him to love in a profoundly felt moment. He said it was “life changing.” He did not judge his actions but was in the “Tree of Life”moment for him and his family. 

The snow was woven around everything – I did the exercise “Jade dragon weaves around the body” while on my porch looking at the snow.

Fathers especially feel these moments, as they have to be the one holding her hand as the wife goes about this most holy of motherly tasks. The father of my children always held the newborns and wept. It was a lovely moment for me as he turned away with the child and had that moment with them. 

He said the baby seemed to be doing fine “eating, sleeping and pooping.”

I wondered if it would be ok to bring over a jar of applesauce canned this fall, to make sure everyone else in the family is on the same schedule above as the baby. We laughed. I said I would leave it on the front porch.

He said his dogs seemed to understand that the baby is part of the family now and accepted the baby. He noted that I should not leave that applesauce on the front porch as the dogs might think that I was an intruder and would bark the house down. I agreed to leave it somewhere else for them. 

The helpers in the corner

We even talked about stitches and tearing versus cutting to help the baby emerge. I think I had three episiotomies with the birth of my children. My tail bone was also broken off when the obstetrician helped my first born into the world with a forceps. I sat on a doughnut for six weeks until it healed. I saw red about it for some years afterwards. It is all forgotten now except sometimes I have to let go yet again relating to that pain. I have to say thank you to the staff there at the time who were attending to my birthing needs. 

I am chanting and reading. One of the little books said that all the meditation in the world is no good if I do not practice love with all my heart. I gave a healing massage for someone who felt “like crap.” I sang “Oh healing Waters” over them. I felt very high afterwards and full of peace. “As long as you do it to one of these the least of these my brethren you do it to me.” I am getting the hang of this a little. I hope you do too.

Love from Rose. 

Dressed up warm for an evening in the snow before sunset.
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Holiday News – Conscious and otherwise.

As I lay in my bed starting meditation, my head was itchy at the back and I started to run my hands through the hairs on my head after I failed to locate the hair brush where I thought I left it on the wooden shelf above my head.

Then I remembered the time I felt all the hairs in my head are attached to nerve endings and that those nerve channels run all the way down each side of the back bone and on down to my feet. I felt their route at that time. It was nice to have that memory from that other time fall into awareness again.

On the Ganges putting my light out into the water to be carried away with my prayers.

I was also drawn back to the time of the Festival of Lights in Diwali when we went on a boat, drawn along by current, quiet with no engine. We stopped the boat and put our own little lights onto the water and said our prayers to our God as we let them go. The votive light was on a leaf and the little light holder was make of mud. It was dark at the time. 

It is the holidays again and in the absence of family, I are free to do as I please. I had a hearty breakfast and before I was recovered I set off for Todd Lake after putting the bike in the back of the new car. It fit in there snug and I was very pleased. 

I went around by Mole Hill, never inclined to go to a place directly. I went by one of the Churches on Mole Hill, and there were hundreds of mennonites there and perhaps two hundred horse and buggies. It was well after eleven and there were groups of men standing outside near the horses, and some women in black holding colorful babies here and there. 

My picture does not do the whole scene justice as I did not feel bold enough to stop and start shooting photos. I could hear their quiet talk. It was a very large gathering. The doors were open in the warm weather. I could not see inside. 

silver Lake in Dayton

I went my own ways looking at the lovely scenery in all directions, mountains and rolling hills with a carpet of black and white Holstein cattle lying out enjoying the sunshine. They found a sheltered spot and were so close together they displaced the grass in that warm corner of the field.  

My trusty bike

Near the top of the mountain at Todd Lake after fixing some loose screws on the bike with a penknife blade and then with a key, it was ready for the 5 miles downhill off that mountain. There was one uphill piece through a pass with I negotiated by meandering back and forth until I scaled the hill. I opened my pink wind cheater coat, I noted I was close to sweating. 

Soaring down hill, I chanted a mantra in four segments, raising an arm, one at at time in unison with the chant. Sometimes I had to hold on to both sides of the handlebars to remain upright. 

have no idea how this picture came about. I may be riding on my bike.

My white scarf was blowing in the wind, the river ran along near the road at times. I stopped at a bridge and almost threw myself into the low flowing water. I resisted and went on.

At the bottom of the hill and I wanted to get into that deep pool of water not far from a camp site/store. I compromised with me agreeing to ride my bike a few more miles, like two, to let off the rest of the steam I was feeling. 

Back in the car, I wandered around through roads whose names were Natural Chimneys, Coakley Town Road and Crystal Springs Road. 

The food cooking in a slow cooker on low was not cooked on my return, especially the two huge potatoes left to soften up in the top portion of the cooker. I turned it to high and went onto the porch to enjoy the mild weather. I thought of the news I got this week of someone doing a crystal workshop. She was instructed to put a crystal in her hand and to hold it into sleep. This she did.

I got a gift of five bunches of kale and a bunch of sweet potatoes for Christmas and felt very good health wise.

Then she had a dream experience of an older family member, with whom she was very minimally associated. He was dead for fifteen years and she had not thought of him for many years and the circumstances of his death were kept secret from her at the time. In her dream he was in a lake with water was up to his knees. He wanted help from her. 

She wanted him to turn toward the light but it took some time to get him to turn around and stop looking into the water of the dark lake that was up to his knees. After some time he did turn toward the light  and like a baby in the birth canal, he was drawn out of his fifteen year prison and went off toward the light. She was very satisfied with this outcome. 

Another kind of knee deep in water in Nepal River, Katmandu, straight from the Himalayas.

When she awoke she asked her mother about this family member and was told he had addiction problems and had dropped in two feet of water after drinking a lot of alcohol. This scared her so much, she did not risk placing those crystals in her hands again, even if she leaves them in her bedroom still. 

That one feather I mentioned.

Waiting on the food cooking, I ambled off my porch and with “my stick” (waking cane) and I set off up the hill with my sights on the graveyard surrounded by tall pines and with eleven tall pines in a circle in the middle. (A few years ago a storm took one of them out.) As I walked toward the pines my attention was drawn upwards and a flock of vultures fly upwards in three waves out of the trees. I found just one short feather that I have as evidence of this event. I looked at headstones and tried to make sense of all the dates and ages of the dead, never thinking of my own demise once.  

That is all the news for now, unconscious and otherwise. I had a lovely day and hope you had too. Keep meditating and praying and hopefully you too will feel your nerve endings as you drop deep into yourself. Love from Rose

On the Ganges River
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Season’s Greetings from the Unconscious.

Yesterday, I had the great opportunity to go apple picking out near Shenandoah Town. There was a big bumper crop this year and after we filled a few bags full to overflowing, we walked up to the barn to wash off some dog “dudu” from our shoes. Somewhere in the conversation , the owner showed us his antique car which he had redone. The paint coat was black with blue and purple streaks, and looked very wonderful. I took some pictures and felt moved by the beauty and the art work. 

Season’s Greetings from the unconscious.

The unconscious wanted to leap onto that running board and bring me back to my early childhood. I found myself standing in our family Ford black shiny car. I was standing behind my great grandmother’s front seat. I was up close with her mink stole, which she wore draped around her neck. The stole is shiny, with honey tones and there are two little glass eyes on the heads of the minks.  I put my fingers on the eyes.

Regular Season’s Greetings

Great grandmother lived on a farm and raise nine children. I understand that she bought the car for my dad, so he could pick her up in Bishopstown and bring her to church in Rosemount to attend mass. She was in her eighties and considered that going to Mass was a must for her. It was a distance of about 3 miles.

In my inner eye, I am at the road gate at the end of a long avenue.  I am looking up at a big wrought iron gate, painted white with two stone gray pillars, one on each side. There is some green moss suggestions on the north side of the pyramid shaped top.

From the dreams and a Mandala as well.

I am the one to open the gate for the car to go through. It is a latch type gate and raising the latch allows the gate to swing open. I am in a dress and coat, red and white colors and I am wearing little patent leather black shoes and white ankle socks.

The car ambles through the gate and I push the gate back into closed position, and the latch goes up by itself. My father’s welcoming hand reaches back to pull the door closed. 

Mandala

Grandmother comes to our house for dinner on this Sunday.  The fire is lit in the parlor and is a warm turf fire.  The stove in the kitchen is set to a high setting, the dampers pulled open,  to finish cooking home grown potatoes in the back of the oven, making the skins crisp and the inner centers steamy. My mother never thought it a problem to wrestle out those smoking potatoes from the back left hand side of the oven where it is the hottest.

The tension between my father and my mother’s line;  grandmother, great grandmother and my mother, is not in evidence this day. My mother stayed home to prepare the food.

Great Grandmother

My younger sister and I hide behind the door and when my father pulls it closed he sees us and smiles down at us. He was an anxious serious man but our little curly top heads behind the door, my sister blonde and mine dark brown, took him by surprise as we absorbed the adults and their moves from behind the shelter of that big wooden green door.

Great grandmother was a religious woman. She sat by her own fire side saying rosaries during the daytime. Sometimes she had us join her, as she incanted the words to the Virgin Mary. 

Descendants of Great-grandmother in Hill N Dale Park in Harrisonburg

We hear her speak to my father cordially, about the weather, the neighbors, local births and deaths. They all relax, as the warmth from the fires and the food from the stove, have a beneficial effect on everything. Chicken soup is on the menu and greens are on hand and the main meal is followed by apples and custard and cream for dessert.

Their way to warm up to each other now surfaces in me as I try and warm up to the one who made us all. I walk out through that avenue and cross the road and climb the Hill of NaCosta, to let go of what attitudes in me that I have no cure for.

Behind the Door

In my meditation I climb higher onto the top of the hill and I hear the silence. I hear the sheep bleating. I see the mushrooms in a circle and I know the one who owns it all is here and is everywhere.

I drop out of my head down into my chest landing in my heart drum and I am in Ireland walking free. I am released to pinch off those lines of binding and I am righted and all are righted by the breath of God available to me. The vibrations go in all directions, into the past, now and into the future. 

Another kind of Christmas Card.
From the Dreams

Happy Solstice and Happy dreaming. Time spent in inner work, will never let you down;  be it prayer, music, holy words in song or said, in stretching the body literally and in prayer at the same time, sacrificing junk food and other things, or waiting in silence for the cure for what there is no cure for. It will bring you into that sole/soul refuge. I pray for you, and you pray that we both have the white raiment and the gold tried in the fire and that all our tears are wiped away.

Love from Rose.   

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In Wonderful Wild West Virginia

It is winter time and above freezing, as the sun starts down in the western sky. I am staying in the mountains near Cast, in a warm Farm House with warm people. It is the day before the start of hunting season and everyone is ready to scout out the possibilities. I am a watcher and lag behind soaking in the beautiful scenery that is all around the house. 

Reflection in Silver Lake in Daton

I enjoyed seeing the four wheeler flying along between the trees, mostly hidden except for the orange caps on the hunters and the guns pointed up in the air. 

I walk and then sit between big hay-bale’s. I sit up straight, for a while,  then roll over and do legs up the bale and finally lie on the ground,  in my feathered coat, as I watch the evening lights change. The wind is blocked by the mothering bales of hay. 

Where the deer climbed up to where I was – and the grass was make into hay bales.

All the while I am doing mantra, praying and trying for silence, as I sit in the silence in a place where the only sound now is the distant caw of a crow or the wind rushing leaves up into the air and making them fly like birds.

In my prayer I become pointed towards God asking for connection in a relationship where love is the goal.

The Mountain between me and the sunset becomes blue black and blacker still, as the sun gets ready to go behind the mountain. Above the mountain the sky becomes a paleness of blue green full of peacefulness that connects with my soul. This brightness juxtaposed with the black mountain beneath pulls me out into the light. I get up with my walking stick and cannot leave off looking towards the pale blue westerly direction, where gold flecks bounce on an orange clump of cloud.

The sun set behind that mountain – this photo was taken a few weeks earlier.

I am tapping into that time of day when the sun goes down and many peoples of many persuasions make sure they are outside to partake of the sacrament of releasing into, letting go into the darkness of night, bringing with them the glorious glimpses of a heaven pulled back too late.

The time for prayer and mantra and the receiving of an awareness is in this interval before the western gates close.

The interconnectedness between people, be their friend or enemy roll into me from out of that pale blue green light, hitting my heart door ajar a little – just enough for me to see that I can send love to my loved ones and especially to the best of my enemies.

Where the leaves flew upon into the air looking south from the farmhouse – The clouds are below us.

When I send love out in this way I am lifted out of my mundane world and like the grey clouds,  something in me is struck with a golden light of God, the long time sun shines upon me and all love surrounds me. 

Next afternoon I sit in the south facing porch and stare over at the bales trying to regain the awareness I got from the sunset strip of the blue green last evening.

Is it that the love of God I send, strikes out of me and boomerangs back?

From the dreams of one of my clients – the locks and keys

Is it that the recipients are lit up by the light of God and that light answers in them?

Is it that my light answers to the light that is my inheritance, hidden except now?

I am my brothers keeper. We were all spit out in the same breath from God and given free will to be on the mountains dumb struck by the beauty all around, as we ask to be held in what is our only refuge. 

I catch away from the world of opinion and from the cares of the world into a rapture right there in the evening light. Was it that the love I received from God strikes me, my hands and my feet and all my bones?

Mandala

Was it a glimpse(from a dream)of a lively white ridges on my big toe reclaiming the light of God?

As I finished up my meditation after the sun is set, I glimpsed two does that climb the knoll near me, turning around to show me their leaping tails, up and down in the falling dusk,  I too turned around hoping to keep myself open in my heart and to know, that is the only requirement for life, for connecting with my sole(soul) refuge. 

The Silver Lake in Dayton was very still this morning.

Long May you love. Long May your love be. May your longing bring you into love as deep as the valleys in West Virginia and as deep as outer space and make your heart open into the love that dances with the leaves and brings a movement and motion into you that loves you all the way. 

And now as I sit now on Sunday Morning, a week later, in a silent and focused mood, those mountains flash into my inward eye, summersaulting me into the bliss of solitude, filling my heart with pleasure of feeling and seeing and dancing again with the deer in the mountains in the breath of my Lord, my soul’s refuge.

From my dreams – about that big toe.

Pray for me and I am praying for you. Collectively we are bringing something together that is strong, that is fearless, that is in love.

he great sunset colors have jumped into my hair.

Love from Rose.

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The Bhagavad Gita

I had a dream about the Bhagavad Gita. I was telling a client of mine to read and study it. He was a student, attending counseling with me, trying to finish up school after some years. 

I told my dream to a relative and he had the copy of the Gita, as translated and lectured on by Gandhi. I liked what Gandhi had to say and I thought I could understand it much better now compared to the time I read it in my twenties. 

I concluded this time around that the instructions were, that I should do what ever I saw to do, with all my heart. I did clean a bit better for a hot minute after I read the first few chapters. I hope also that it inspires me to put more heart into my counseling work, or to figure what more heart looks like in counseling work and in my life in general.

So I could take my dream to mean that I should study the Bhagavad Gita. The wilder male young energies in me, as represented by the student above, should study it but like that student, I would suffer from a certain inconsistency and find it difficult to follow through with doing things with all my heart.  I could look for that inconsistency. My observations help me catch on to the fact I let myself off a lot with a wrong attitude. Also I have things to learn about the spiritual path that I have not understood before.

Collecting Persimmons in my bike basket.

Chapter seven, verse one caught my attention and I could not leave that first verse, for a couple of weeks. It stopped me in my tracks as I tried to understand. “Make Me the sole refuge, … and (when you do that) without doubt, you will fully know me.” 

Beautiful Persimmons growing in Harrisonburg.

Rose is on the rose path of her own. I am my own sole refuge. I follow all sorts of diets, exercise regimens, rules about food, what is good and what is bad, as dictated by all different sorts of teachings, including teachings from my parents, churches, strong friends, colleges, supervisors, partners, intimates, clients etc.  Putting my sole refuge on the one who made us all is not considered and not in residence in the forefront of my mind. I go with the tree of good and evil. This is good and this is evil, as I have gathered up because of my traumas and other insistent inclines that are the basis for what I do and how I do it. 

But there is another instruction from our own Bible and the Garden of Eden. Eat from the Tree of Life. Leave the tree of Good and Evil alone. That means that I would need to consider what brings more life into the situation which in and of itself will help me with what I have no cure for. 

Autumn Trees of Life

I can not tell you how to live into the Tree of Life. 

But I can tell you this. Your attitude is important, the attitude of leaning into the one who sustains us, and to insist on getting help from that source first and foremost. My take away is not just to pray for the person, with whom I am having troubles But to pray for the relationship between us which bring in the possibility of more Love and Life and this mends the fences.

I had this other dream in which I was being reprimanded for being late. This goes with the original dream above about the Bhagavad Gita. It could be interpreted that I am not serious enough about my connection, making it strong enough to Love the one who sustains us all and to love my neighbor as myself. The person in this later dream had a long pole(perhaps forty foot) and dangled a piece of paper in front of me to let me know his complaint. When I looked at the piece of paper I saw that all the words were written with the tiny flowers of the Lilac bush. It was very beautiful. I could not read the words at all. It is like a slap and encouragement at the same time. 

I am the woman trying to read the braille of the dreams printed with the petals of lilac flower blooming in November. The pale purple of the flowers, the fragrance all speak of the beauty all around us and the beauty to be brought in as we try to talk, communicate, connect with the one who sustains us and each other. It is up to us, back in our court, what ever we want to take hold of, however we think to increase the fragrance all around us and have beautiful flowers even in the November of our lives. 

On Reddish Knob, West Virginia in the early Fall.

I will pray for you and you can pray for me. I am a little more consistent with that and you can be too. Remember at least a minute for every year of your life. Love from Rose.

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Meditation and a Preamble to a Silent Time

Celtic Cross – showing the pathways of spiritual energy in the body.

So when I wake up in the middle of the night, be it early as in 1am, or late, as in near 5.00 am, I go to the bathroom and crawl back into my cozy bed beside my mate. Then as I realize that I am not going back to sleep, I consider how I will do my now nightly routine of stretching, chanting and eventually meditating.

Sometimes I stay in my bed and guess at times, and try and keep my mate from fastening me down where I lay, with a bear hug. If he rolls too close, deep sleep breathing into my ear can be distracting. Meditating on my own is the better way in general, if the other person is not attempting to meditate with you.

Two different blues of the sky on Reddish Knob.

Noises in the street can come into my room, especially two boys at 1.00 am talking on the phone at the top of their voices to some screaming girls. That night I went out in my night attire, long tee and leggings, and after some gesticulating got the attention of my young boy neighbor. “I am so sorry” he said and asked what he should do. In my sweetest voice I said that going to the other side of that eight apartment building would solve the problem. It did.

For the last three night I got out of bed, drank some water and considered what I needed to carry upstairs to the big attic where I have set up a “bed” on the floor using a large sheepskin. It can be cold up there but the stretching and chanting under the blankets, bring some life into my cold bones and I am comfortable. The heat of the sun on the roof helps with temperature up there also.

The Aquarian Sedna chant starts with having to pay attention to the back bone and pushing the energy up along until it comes out the top of the head. The roof of the mouth is tapped by the tongue to acknowledge the centers deep in the brain, called the Pineal and the Pituitary Centers, the 6th and seventh Chakras.  The three deep breaths combine with the movement up the back. This part lasts seven minutes. 

We saw a little red here and there on the trees – and the Tree of Life is said to reside in the back bone.

When I was in Amritsar in India, we practiced Sadhna, as a group in a basement, and we were just minutes away from the Golden Temple. I have practiced in other places and especially remember Morocco in the early hours, as we vied with the local temples, who vied with each other as they sang their morning prayers. These awesome sounds are some of the sweetest memories to me. So I often hear the chimes of the big group singing it together as I practice alone. 

From the dreams – mine – and that is a fox with a light hold on my arm.

The rest of the chants are achieved with regular chanting with the eyes closed and the attention cast up toward the spot between the brows. I am not very good at this part but give an occasional nod to this discipline. When this sixty two minutes of chanting are over I am well stretched and relaxed from using some oils to loosen the flesh and bones that are trying to stick/shrink together in the wrong ways.

 I am expecting some healing but also resign myself that it will come in God’s good time when and if it does. I am learning to not be so intent on being uptight that I even have this condition. I always feel renewed after the fact of the chanting and meditation and freedom from the worst of the stiffness blesses me. 

An old dream image with a curent message for me. I put color into it at 3 am last night.

Now when I am going to meditate, I still the body and still the thoughts and close down my eyes and raise my attention upwards toward the inside of my head, where I think the 6th and 7th chakras reside and where the Pineal and the Pituitary glands associated with them are located.  It is an up and down and a pulling apart so I can visit with the Spirit of the one who still the waters. In this silence I wait. I try to not get hijacked off into the ten thousand things that I need to keep outside the door and in my outer court, so I can have a visit within the Holy of Holies. I want to be my own best priest. 

A grumpy side of me hustling around,

After raising up mine eyes to the mountains from where my help comes, when I get some way toward that realm, I may see a splash of red light chased with white, in a scatter going past me, I hope I notice this running flash but can almost miss it. I think of Moses in the Desert and having to hide in the cleft of the rock to see the back of God going by. He was in the desert for a long while trying to achieve his glimpse.

Something of the river from under the throne flowed, giving me a quick glimpse of the crystal water of life and the flash of gold and red and white.

A river in a dream – watercolor completed by a client prior to coming to session.

Let me never be tempted to darken the river of life in which I swim. Let we, as a peoples, and as nations, not be tempted to darken the great rivers of this world. Then the lovely sunfish of red and white and gold can freely swim. The crystal fish of the Christ can move together in all of us, where we carry it not just in the box of our church but in the box of our hearts and head, for the brightness of the river of pure Chrystal, flowing out from under the throne. 

Finally the Celtic cross(above) that I bought in Shannon Airport a long while ago fell down and broke as I dusted a shelf. When I examined it I noticed it carries some secrets. There is the secret of the chakras  denoted by the circles. Four circles of the lower body and two of the upper chest and the opening toward the higher through the top of the head. Those old Celts, sat on the back of the Druids, and wove in Christianity to include the chakras. The monks and the saints in the early monasteries may have had the secrets then.

All rivers are rivers of life – we just have to appreciate them and protect them collectively.(River at Rawley Springs above – maybe Blacks Run.)

I am feeling more relaxed after my three nights of practice, with a more concerted effort to be in communication with the presence of the One. 

I love to visit the waters at Rawley Springs. My new partner said he would pack a pix axe and swimsuit and take me there. I asked why an axe and he said to better break the ice with. It is not that cold and I would surely have jumped in if I went there. We contented ourselves with doing house work, and sitting and writing in between times.

Get your practice going on meditation. There are apps to get you started, mystics to follow, silence to keep, Yoga to attend, Edgar Cayce to read, (Virginia Beach Mystic), Bibles to read and miles and miles of thought to get through before you go back to sleep. As Rumi was fond of saying “Don’t go back to sleep.” He meant in more ways than one. Love from Rose. 

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Thankfullness – Buiochas

Fall Colors

Thankfullness – Buiochas

“Buiochas le Dia” is a way of saying “Thanks to God” in Gaelic. 

I am using it as a mantra to surreptitiously, secretly supplant my lack of thankfulness for all the gifts I have here in my little life in Harrisonburg. 

I met a new boyfriend and that is a gift to me. He stays busy making my house ship shape, with painting and fixing anything that even thinks of listing our of its place. He shows me in many ways that he loves me, including making an arbor through the hedge out front on Wolfe Street side of the house.

From the dreams

I am still working in my favorite job of counseling and can bring in art and dreams into my sessions, even as my seventieth birthday is waving at me. These counseling sessions bring both of us into understanding of the spiritual life as well as much laughter back and forth. It is as good as it gets in my neck of the woods.

Mandala

I have acquired the MARI teacher training certificate. This has come to help me with deciphering Mandala. I encourage my clients to draw mandala during our session even as we talk together. We are often astounded at the accuracy of what is put down on paper as shape and color and how it makes a bridge to what is happening in their life.

Mandala

As a young women in my thirties, handling pregnancy, childrearing, a busy husband and emigration, I had a therapist to whom I often brought thirty mandalas when I went for a monthly session. Some leaned into lovely spiritual encouragement and others into temper and tantrum. I was back and forth a lot as I was being steered into a better version of myself. We always tackled the dreams and shadow work was the norm. 

A new pathway just completed across the road

I am thankful to be part of a small group that I meditate with once a week. I sometimes stood up and sang the Our Father for them telling them I always prayed this prayer at the beginning of my meditation. I am truly thankful that I have a daily practice in which to swing this prayer around. 

This Sunday I found a new version of it and it goes likes this:

The One from whom I come from

Holy is your name, Nirname, Nameless One

The kingdom come of the One from whom I come from

The possibility of the kingdom that is in the hear and now of my life

The will of the One, Has a will for me, so I am from where I come from

A heritage, not from faint afar over there but a birthright

My choice to be from where I come from

Our daily bread from the One from whom I come from

White energy of the core of the One, daily given in the root of me

Forgive us for forgetting where I come from and let me forgive everyone

Because of where I come from

Lead me into the way of the One from whose I come from – not tempted

By reaching hands from other where. 

Always reaching to where I come from

Deliver me into the Hands of the One from whom I come from

Into the heart of Love, the One from whom I come from. Amen.

I am thankful that I can air the above and continue to see if my Celtic leanings will morph my prayer again.

Buiochas le Dia can be repeated as many times as needed during the day, or used as a Mantra to imbue the body with thankfulness. The side effects are relaxation, complements of a parasympathetic system, who loves to be in thankfulness. This is that part of us that digests our food and renews out cells. 

Sunset shining into one of my rooms

Buiochas le Dia for my neighbor who stops to chat and tell me I am “not subtle” but that being “not subtle” is the true mark of a therapist. Sometimes I have to say something that calls it how it is. I once played a rebel Irish song for my brother in law who is English. Later I felt bad about my lack of subtly but today I can laugh and be thankful for such a lovely brother in law. I can let go of my unconscious, shadow that squirms when I think of it. I can now say, yes there is history there.

From the North end Greenway

Buiochas Le Dia for seeing the Queen of England, on TV in all those beautifully colored suits, one after the other, bright red, turquoise, orange and many others. Each one had a bowler type hat to match perfectly. I was mesmerized and am glad for the choices I can make about what I wear. I am busy crocheting a hat. Thankful that I can get more expansive with my colors.

Buiochas le Dia for the lovely colored dogwood across the road in full fall colors. It is over a newly constructed stone stair/path. Fred’s yellow trees have been hacked off by the utility company but still manage to look wonderful as they tower above the house. I am grateful for the loveliness of tall trees nearby. 

A picture of the rising moon over nearby mountain-

Buiochas le Dia for a lovely new car, with the emphasis on small and new. Thankful to be able to take a Sunday drive, sit in the river in Luray, watch the little silver fish catch the sunlight, as they jump all around me in the water. The water is not so cold yet. Some will not touch the water because of ducks, dogs and run off but I see the lively fish all around and know that I can step into it.

Finally Buiochas le Dia for all my lovely readers. As the Day of the Dead will soon be on us I am very grateful for all the ancestors, especially those who loved me into this life and encouraged me. You my readers also encourage me through your reading and through your clicks and comments. Buiochas le Dia is my prayer for you all. Love from Rosemarie. 

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