Rose Longworth Counseling

LOGOS

Posted on March 17, 2018 by rlongwort

Old mandala art/ self portrait

I had another dream about my passport. I scheduled my air tickets to Morocco for real last Sunday evening and that night I had this dream.

I am going on a trip by air and the flight is that evening. I have not looked for my passport in the usual place yet. Then the dream is filled with frustration with not being able to find the passport. I am at work looking in the filing cabinet there, but I cannot see the file names very well, as I do not have my glasses on. This effert of searching produces no passport. Then I am told to go and look in the filing cabinet called “LOGOS.” It may be upstairs in the attic or downstairs in the basement. I am greatly relieved to be given this direction. I see Logos written in big capital letters.

Mandala from 1990s

The beginning of the dream bring me an awareness that I do not have permission to leave for Morocco. Morocco is called the City of Mystery. I hope to understand this garden of mystery I find myself in daily. So the opening part of the dream is telling me that I am not getting it, I am looking in all the wrong places to solve this passport into Mystery.

Art class self portrait maybe

My feelings of frustration, which hold me back from this mystery, are always close at hand, and I fall into frustration easily. I pray that my feelings be filled with love, but that is not what I am practicing as much as I would like. The dream tells me I do not have that passport in my hand. I am looking for love in all the wrong places. I need that passport now, this evening.

1995 self portrait

My eyesight is in question here. My mother was declared legally blind in her seventies but got around. I feel the blindness of having to always have my glasses on when I am writing etc. I often try and do without, as glasses, my glasses, have the ability to hide behind beds, in coat pockets, and some of them have their own passports to leave me completely. The dream may be showing me that this sight to see things of the dream, of the Spirit, is not there. I may even go blind as I age. I am looking in the wrong places or have a blindness for what is required of me now to claim that Morocco Mystery in myself. It is needed now, today, to get that lift into love.

Title on this piece by one of the children was “Monster in the kitchen.” I have no doubt that it is a representation of me through the eyes of the child following behind me. The wood stove to the right has a pot of water on it, and steam coming out of it.

The lyses of the dream, the true analysis is shown in the last part of the dream. I am to go up and go down in myself.

More children art. I suspect this was done by my son. He liked that yin yang symbol but not sure

The basement below is representative of the unconscious where the energy is held that fuels the Mystery. Accessing the above and the below, from bottom to top of back bone comes to mind.

Another self portrait of one of the children

Some people call God Source. Logos(Greek word for Word) is sometimes substituted here. I will find my center by changing where I look for my sourse, my inner center. I do not find it by pushing out in the usual four directions.

Mandala of four directions

It makes a difference when I sit to meditate in the middle of the night and say to myself “After 40 years do I need to change how I am doing this” as I set myself into a concentrated, consecrated inner traveling up and down in myself and finding that center, out of which all life comes, which is the Source of all.

Mandala

mandala

This dream is a promise to me. It points to more direct talk with me from my unconscious. It is trying to make the invisible in me visible. The whole thing may be strange to my rational mind but it is the cosmic voice telling me to look for the Logos File. There is a redical shift from going forward to a going up and down within. This is my “aha” moment for this dream. I feel I am hitting the mark with this and it is grace from heaven to hit home, to get the bread of heaven, and Water of Life that nourishes me and makes me satisfied. The inner center is pointing to “LOGOS,” a file inside myself that I can find and open.

And if you want to open some files in yourself, give me a shout and we can set up a time to work on your inner life and journey. You too can hit the mark, find your own Logos file and see what you have sequestered away for yourself. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, Interpretation, meditation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged Children's Art, dreams, Interpretation, Mandalas, meditation | Leave a comment

A Little Rant around the House

Posted on March 14, 2018 by rlongwort

Mandala photo taken with flash from camera inside. Perhaps St Patrick’s green is having an influence.

One of her readers said she likes it when Rose has a little rant. So she had reason to rant yesterday morning. She was almost ready for work, the bags of lunch and snack filled up, mostly liquid, and very heavy. The handbag with phone was ready and she glanced at the place the car keys should be and they were there, the little blue purse hanging down to help her see them the better.

Some water and ice in the bird baths

She still had a mug of tea to drink, after a hearty breakfast of chops and greens. Some lamb shops were thawed out and when she got out two eggs for breakfast she spied the wrapped white papered chops and paused. She returned the eggs and got the chops out. They were mostly not frozen as they were thawing overnight in the fridge. She ate them rare with dandaline greens and spinach. Pink salt was added from Himalayas. She was probably a little too satisfied in her feelings after she cleaned her plate off.

The daffodils are pulling their heads up again after snow.

So she picks up her bags, locks her door and lands on the icy porch. There is half a blue sky and the rest is blackish and it is flurrying snow. No sun just them. The birds were on high do, singing and she plopped down on a chair with her tea, dropping the bags in the ice. She enjoyed the whole affair, even if she was getting a little late for work and a little snow flaked. The tea was soon finished. She got up to find the keys. Shearching through a bag full of gloves, sandals and phone among other things, did not produce any keys. The dawning of the fact that they were inside and she was locked out came over her slowly. She called work and went traipsing off in the snowy gardens to find an other key that is hidden in the neighborhood, within walking distance. Yes there was one there where is was supposed to be.

Daffodils tolerate snow well.

As she went back into the house from the front entrance, she was greeted by the smells of incesnse in her office space and maybe candle smells also. These smells affected her and turned her into someone else. A holy vegan perhaps.

Outdoor light makes this mandala less green

As she opened the double doors into the next space the smell was of the seared meat cooked earlier and it knocked her senseless. It smelled so strange, combined with other house smells of age and sage, coffee and eggs. The lack of tidiness, the little piles, the massage plinth splayed out in the next room all made her go further into someone else. Who lives here she wondered.

The onions feel spring inside too.

She closed the double doors and got back into herself. She never liked to be too tidy on the two days she worked outside the home. Not all clothes are sorted and not all dishes cleared away. She found the keys and escaped the entrapment of her house for a full day at the office, where she would learn that doing artwork with a mother and daughter was a marvelous way to get the daughter to talk straight to the mother. Later when she was asked by a client in anger management if she ever got flustered, she most likely lied, refusing now to examine what she really said. Maybe her intern will be able to talk to her about that interaction. Witness is such a wholesome thing.

Another dream image – don’t ask.

Dreams are piling up, with a new young man boarding in her bedroom, and other important forgotten fragments, from a restless night, two nights previously.

A bunch from Rose’s garden space.

She has a less dense breakfast this morning and went out to meditate first on the north east side of the house with a low deck that goes mostly unused. She though she could feel the life under her feet pushing up the green grass and the flowers, in spite of the cold temperatures. A robin was silhouetted on the fence, framed by the crisscross branches of a tree near her.

The pine tree behind the greens

A crow walked under the pine tree at the end of the yard, the beak bulging with a hundred pine needles. She continued to forage for more for a nest the he is surely building.

A little ice in the other bird bath.

As Rose sat to meditate she adjusted her sitz bones and felt the energy entgering her from the ground and felt it travel out to all parts of her body. The water, air and fire of life were entering her together dissolving the barriers in her, giving her a oneness within and without. It was easy to sit, to lift, to ground and to pray. As she walked back in she sent the light to others she is concerned with and of course family members and for her readers. Her mood was changed, much lighter.

And if you have some fragments of dreams you are trying to forget, don’t. The tiniest of gifts from your unconscious will be like water into an old fashioned well, which when worked, brings up as much water as you want. Draw some pictures as that especially will light up the unconscious, draw the water of life up into you and bring out your trickster to get past your blocking tactics.

Arboretum art

I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, meditation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged birds, dreams, flowers, meditation, rant, spring | Leave a comment

Truth is My Identity

Posted on March 14, 2018 by rlongwort

Lenten Rose

“Truth is my identity.” It is part of the prayers I sometimes sing. I have to admit that I am more like the woman who has an Ass’s head (no insult to the lovely ass) that has blinker’s on and cannot see the whole truth of where the path lies, where truth lies. I know it is there somewhere, if my upbringing, my ego, my shadow, religion and patriarchy etc. would only let me take off the blinkers. If I jump often enough into meditation, maybe I will land a little closer to truth and have the sense to close my eyes more often and be pulled into that path that is pleased when poured around

I read a lot and look for answers there. I usually do not reference books, as I want to write out of my own experience. If a book has words that describe my experience the better, I have them steer me closer to the path I feel is there somewhere all around me. I am usually more pleased when I stop reading and give the time to breathing and meditation. My meditation practice includes attention to breathing and to this body and bones, that the breath permeates in the most mysterious and marvelous way. I feel closer to truth that way.

Entrance to another kind of path at the Arboretum.

Other words for “Virgin Mary,” are “Mother Mary, Our Lady.” Shakti is another, Black Madonna, Sophia, Wisdom, Queen of Heaven, Star of the Sea, Comforter of the Afflicted, Refuge of sinners, etc. My mother enumerated the latter four names, as part of the litany of forty plus names she tacked onto the end of her rosary on a daily basis. And when she called on Jesus, it was through Mary, his Mother. Mary was her leader, to bring her toward God. My mother was one of those little women.

Daffodils at the Arboretum pushed up, complement of the Earthly Mother.

The Black Madonna is found in many places over Europe and can be found in the grottos of cathedrals where many venerate her. Outside Paris, in the Chartres Cathedral, there is a Black Madonna called Our Lady Under the Earth. This statue replaces a much older one, found in the older Gallo Roman Sanctuary, located on the same site. Legend says the Druidic Priests there venerated here at Chartres, way before the Christian era.

My version of the Black Madonna

And then there is the statue of Mary Magdalene in The Cathedra of Mary Magdalene in Jerusalem where she looks out in beauty, holding an egg. Legend says she changed an ordinary egg into this wonderful red egg. She had just met Pontius Pilot, on Easter Morning and told him Jesus was risen. Pilate said, “prove it” and she picked an egg from the basket of a woman going by and changed it in front of Pilot, into a beautiful red egg.

She reminds me that there is the need to bring love and passion into relationship. She is another aspect of the Divine Feminine and sits on top of a much earlier time when the feminine was given her rightful place as bringer of the feeling of love, passion, and creation into all aspect of life. Her love and passion enriches the lives of those engaged with love. As one of my old mentor said, it is something more than “the good sex” The energy much reach up into the heart and go out as the milk of human love and kindness, bringing sparks from the heart, enlivening our bodies, hearts and minds.

The hearts and minds of the ancestors were given strict messages about love. Mother could be a little harsh on us as children and on herself when we were all much younger, relating to these matters. Removing these blinkers is not that easy.

My mother went through her church’s version of Mary, to be in touch with the Mother. Her devotion and concentration in that direction brought her closer to that divine feminine energy, within her own backbone. She said that when she said the rosary to “Our Lady” on the avenue, her mood and spirit would change completely and she lamented that she would sometimes forget what she was doing and not complete the whole rosary. The Rosary lasts about fifteen minutes with her array of litany and tack on prayers for a happy death. I found a red rosary beads in her blue coat after going through the pockets after her death. I am pleased to have it.

If you have a dream of the Black Madonna or a White Madonna be sure to bring it my way. I am always interested in considering the wholeness of the feminine possibility within us, which will have a great effect on our bodies, our psyche and the areas around us. Her archetype is firmly imbedded in us, if a little repressed, if a little held back by those blinkers. May you too take the jump and land on the wholeness that is possible for yourself. May you consider jumping into your dreams and pull them safely from the unconscious and into the basket of the Madonna, where all things are possible, all things amplified, all symbols having their place in you. They will talk to you if you give them a little time and concentration and encouragement. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, meditation, Uncategorized | Tagged Black Madonna, dreams, legends, Mary Magdalen, Mother Mary, Pilot, Repressed Feminine | Leave a comment

Mariah and the Goddess Energy

Posted on March 12, 2018 by rlongwort

Uishneach had gone off wandering again. He had not found any big stash of gold on his travels or found out how to turn lead into gold despite his best efforts. He went fourth with the new lamps he had made and shoes and knew he would get some gold for them. Mariah suspected he had a lot more gold stashed but was lazy to go looking for it and felt it beneath her. Besides she had received some gold from her mother’s family and felt rich in her own right, with goblets made of gold that she loved dearly.

Uishneach’s new aim was to bring inner and outer light to others. Selling lamps and shoes and conversations would be helpful with this. He also thought that shoes stood for what you stand on and as such he was angling to bring understanding to those he sold his shoes to. In long conversations to while away long nights by the open blazing turf fires, and in singing old ballads, he hoped to impart old knowledge to others who had their ears open.

These travels brought him some good conversation about how the Leprecauns were once tall people but also known to be carriers of the light. Their people were no longer recognized as such and had to go underground, willed by their conquerors to be small. He had some worry that his tribe would eventually be invisible. But being invisible would not be all bad, especially when he found his pots of gold beneath some rainbow, someday.

Before he set off Mariah wanted to make sure he was all packaged out right and she cooked a great meal for him the day before, and made a prayer wheel cake that he could bring with him in case he was hungry. She thought she would try and do what the Druid Bernie was advocating and bring love into all her feelings for him. She felt around in her heart for that pearl and tried to expand it into love for him. She enjoined the Mother of all Lovemaking to be with her, to fill her bosom with a state of love and passion for him and see how that would affect everything. Mariah was very satisfied with how this made her feel. He did not notice much, preoccupied as he was with the details of his next trip. He was gone early before the sun was up.

The next day surprised her greatly as three gifts arrived at her door in a matter of some hours. . A pair of her best gloves she had lost on the lane between the big hedges, were left at her door. Then she was given a little nettle tincture from a friend appreciative of her attention to some dreams her friend had shared with her. The final gift was a small pot of honey topped up with the lavender flowers. The latter came with a note, which she was not sure how to respond to, but she was very sure about how to respond to the lavender honey gift. She really appreciated all three but especially the pale green nettle drops and the marvelous tea that the lavender honey made. She felt the Mother of All had a hand in these gifts that came to her.

After he was gone she had less to do and went visiting with her many leprechaun friends. She often liked to paint as they talked but one little dwarf was not happy and poked her in the side to have her better listen to the conversations. The goddess energy deserted Mariah and she could easily have let herself down with a mouthful of nasty words. Luckily the dwarf was a bit deaf, and in the repetition of her words she changed them greatly and said , “Did she not know that painting and doodling increased attention?”

Mariah wondered why she got in such a temper and remembered her mother would often poke her in the side in an effort to get more details, more connected with her. Mariah overall did not like this gesture and felt it leeched her energy away to her mother in a stealing way. She felt it ruined her painting making it black and red in spots.

She closed her paints and had a hard time letting go of the whole interaction.

That night she heard noises in her house and decided to meditate to let go of her own inherited mark from her mother, and to let go of what ever she had absorbed from the dwarf. It felt like a click clank in her shoulder somehow. She kept listening for it to fall out of her onto the floor. She felt much better in the morning that but was grouchy ash she slept not enough that night.

Burning white sage

She hardly could wake up next morning but the lavender tea was helpful. She spent most of the day outside, knowing that being outside would surely lengthen her life. The temperatures were climbing up in the sunshine, and her feet warmed up as she sat around contemplating the best use of her time. She was learning to slow down enough to consider how the goddess would care for her if she had a chance. The end.

Rose had to go to a training to keep her continuing education units up for Licensure. She always struggled to feel that trainings are a good use of her time. She liked the talk by the Peer Support person and the Western State person. She did yoga on the floor at the back, painted a little, did some crochet and felt she heard everything plain and clear in spite of her activities. It is her compromise and she felt a little red hattish in going her own way in this. There was a big crowd there and not one of them got off their chairs for most of the seven hours. She did meet with two of her old bosses and they both hugged her warmly.

Rose’s violets are responding to the sun’s reappearance on the eastern window again.

And if you have a dream to tell, a temper that blindsided you, or a story of gifts from the Goddess that came in threes to your door, then be sure to find me and we can work to see what is coming your way. Gifts from the unconscious are always a surprise and we can work on how to transform the energy in yourself, so that your heart is expanding in all aspects of your life, in your lovemaking, in your friendships, in your work and in your play.

I love to work with dreams and hope you will come soon and start this other journey, the road less travelled, and find your own home within, warm and comfortable to you and others. Love from Rose.

Another dream image – don’t ask.

Posted in dreams, Leprechaun, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized, Watercolors | Tagged dreams, Leprechaun story, meditation, storytelling | Leave a comment

My Mother’s Kundalini Experience

Posted on March 8, 2018 by rlongwort

I attended a Kundalini class last Monday. During the class, which was vigorous, we lay down and listened to a song devoted to the Mother of it all. I only remember one little fragment about the Mother and looking. I focused on those words because my mother, in describing her vision said the Virgin Mary looked at her and smiled at her. She said the feeling that came over her lasted a year or more and was never forgotten by her.

In her eighties, she insisted I bring her back there, to the place of her vision, to have it happen again to her. I had just arrived from America, had attended a wedding and was ready to head for the midlands, to ignore her request. I was on American time; jet lagged and tired after the wedding. She finally got my attention when she said she would disinherit me if I did not bring her. Something about this desperation, caused me to change my mind and we went south, to get to her destination near a small church, to the west of Kinsale, in County Cork. It was a long journey, taking most of the day, after a late start, saying goodbye to family. It was evening when we got to her destination. She was not interested in the church or its statue of the Virgin Mary but instead she had us climb up through a field, onto a hill that was across from the church. The church was about two to three blocks away. It was the field in which pilgrims gathered. They were bussed in from the midlands. She traveled with many from her church. When she got there, on that hill, she was saying a rosary with others. It was then the vision happened.

Morning Mandala

She told me of the vision when I was talking to her about my yoga practice. It was ten years after the fact but it was alive in her body and mind still. She said that “everything fell away.” There was a feeling of great movement around her and she said that the Virgin came to her and was alive. The Virgin’s head turned toward my mother, and she “smiled” at her. It lasted some time by her account. She told of the vision to her neighbor Sonny who said “Ah Mrs. Longworth, you must be raving.” She kept it secret after that.

In her early nineties, I asked her again about this vision and she said “A house came down over me.” I asked her again and she repeated the phrase. The rest of the story was the same as above.

The reason I retell this story, is that I finally recognized, last Monday, that my mother had a “Kundalini” experience. The “House coming down over me” and the feeling of movement, was the rising of the Kundalini energy. It is connected to a raising of energy along the back bone and showing itself to her as the Virgin Mother of her Catholic traditions.

The fact it was a visceral feeling that stayed with her for a whole year afterwards, is also evidence of its strength, something inner, staying with her. The house with the lighted Virgin was a projection of her Kundalini energy, that nine feet of light, that can open out around the person having a Kundalini experience, a vision of the Virgin Mary, both of which are descriptions of the light making itself known to those who are in the right place at the right time, in an open and sincere frame of mind. It is a marvelous gift of religious experience, sought by many and given to a few.

Mother out walking on hill

Mother on the Avenue

Within my mother’s religious practice, it was natural that her Kundalini experience would be clothed in the smiling countenance of the Virgin Mary. Also the movement of the light beside and around her, as a house, was an expression of the rising of the Kundalini. Her catholic tradition may speak of visions of Mary but does not include the words for the movement of energy, often described as a snake, along the backbone, bringing this feeling of religious experience to her. All her prayers sent up came down to envelope her in light and love and healing, from the censor that she created with her devotion, her concentration and her sincerity.

On that hill, I gathered some berries ripe in the hedges there. She sat on the grass and I joined her. She tried to reconnect with her earlier vision. She realized that that was then and there was no repeat performance, on demand, on that mild evening, the sun still high in the Irish sky in the evening. We were close to Kinsale and we set off for lodging for the night.

She may have been disappointed but the trip also brought its own understanding to her, and the Virgin Mary remained her port of prayer on a daily basis and in all times of need. We stayed a day of two in Kinsale, walking around the old Fort outside the town, eating seafood in the square, and lying out on the rocks in an alcove by the Irish Sea. She fell fast asleep with two rocks under her head, and waking up, still able to turn over, get up and walk away, totally enjoying her days away from home.

I intend to dig in the garden and plant some bulbs in the earth, from the tulips that were gifted me for my Birthday and Valentine’s Day.

A pencil drawing of the gifter of the tulips to me, completed by Margot Bergman, some thirty years ago.

The tulips were very beautiful and I hope they survive another day to show their faces next spring, that the Mother of us All preserves them in the ground and enlivens them in her secret, mysterious and eternal ways.

Another dream image – don’t ask.

I am on the phone reporting

Jesus one the donkey

I am also digging around in the unconscious. I had a dream of a dark mysterious water space. I could see a rock like structure down there but after diving I still did not touch it although I came near to it. It looked white but was less than white as it was in the water for a long time. Maybe I can unearth some secrets from this place. Maybe there are gifts from the mother of us all in there. I will keep dreaming with eyes wide open for such gifts and bring the dormant into the light of consciousness.

And if you want to work on your dreams and see how they are connected to the Mother of us All, then be sure to come and relay a dream to me. We can dig around and find some fine red tulips ready to spring up giving you joy and delight. May your life be filled with all that is conducive to bringing light and life to our selves, others and our beautiful little blue planet. Love from Rose.

This drawing goes with first dream below – pretty abstract with the purple square in the middle representing the child.

Posted in dreams, Kundalini, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized, Visions | Tagged drawings, dreams and visions., flowers, Ireland, travel, Watercolors | 3 Comments

Little Irish Woman Demanding Dreams

Posted on March 5, 2018 by rlongwort

She went to the market and is being referred to as the little Irish woman who asks for dreams. The dream she got this morning was described as a nightmare. The dreamer had bought a new house beside the mall and lots of people were using her house as a way into the mall. She kept saying this is private property.

mandala

Rose did a quick interpretation, and the dreamer agreed. Then Rose took the trouble to say the dreamer could increase the time she is spending praying, maybe do some yoga exercises and bring in mantra and singing. Surely this would help her close her house to such ignorant strangers. Something was said about the dreamer being a perfectionist when she practices some yoga, finding it hard to concentrate on breathing as she tried to bend in perfect ways. They both got to laugh a lot about that. The photos she takes and the cards she displays are full of that perfection and it is a pleasure to stand at her stall. Perfection comes in handy sometimes. Her dream satisfied the demand for a dream. Her dream made the visit to the market fun.

My first daffodil this spring at Rose’s house.

Rose also found a large plastic green box in her basement full of mandalas yesterday that she drew about thirty years ago. The mandalas were drawn in 1990, the February before her last child was born. They were interpreted by her then mentor and had been written up in long hand. It was windy outside when she located them in the basement and brought then outside to look into them. It was not easy to line them up, as some were dated and some were numbered. She was mulling over the question of church affiliation even then and was questioning if there was any interest in the general population about the true spiritual possibilities of a way into the eternal and infinite, in this mystery garden she found all around her.

Rose’s violets are responding to the sun’s reappearance in the eastern window again.

Some note from Rose’s musings this morning are as follows: The center of the earth is a great rotating ball of iron, magnetic movement.

The core.

Its force spins out to the surface of the earth, streams of life, heat and water. Our babies are born with this warmth, with this water and into this air. There is pumping, and flowing and flying.

Recent doodle

Now Rose is no longer that baby, cooled down, slowed down and scaled down.The dance party for Jenny Pearl, where she danced with the belly dancer, almost killed her. This morning found her sitting in meditation to descale herself. Praying to the angel of the morning to not let her walk away today. Watching until she has waited enough, with her lamp lit, until the Watcher of it all is watching her. And such attention causes the lame to walk, the blind to see and the deaf to hear, with the feet of spirit, the eyes of spirit and the ears of spirit.

Some one left a drawing on her porch all propped up for her to see, with no name on it. She is sure there is an explanation but does not have one yet. She wobbled around wondering who left it there but overall is satisfied that she is meant to consider it for some reason.

The drawing left on Rose’s porch.

Spring is in the air, pushing up the grass with that magnetic force from deep inside the earth and pulling it up with the moon and the sun. Rose is enjoying the intensely blue-sky today, and the spring flowers. The dandelion greens are available in the local market and some are poking up their green leaves in the park.

Rose had a dream of her father’s coat leaning on her and feeling like it’s weight is killing her. Then the coat is her partner’s coat. It was easy to land a projection on him relating to the coat but the dream made more sense when she realized that her moods and attitudes are often less than loving and that is what leans on her heavily and makes her feel so under a heavy weight. Adopting her father’s opinions and moods are sometimes less then helpful to her. She is praying that all of her feelings be filled with love.

The coat is a representation of her own attitudes and moods.

Her partner met some people who live in the town known for meditation. Rose did not meet them but each day after he spent time with them she felt more in love with her partner. She wonders if that meditation/love thing is catching. She hopes it is.

Another dream image – don’t ask.

She read that concentration is putting units of energy onto something. She used this image of the units of energy to help her focus in her brain, in meditation, in the place of the pineal and pituitary, to say she is serious about this connection into love. She thinks it may be helping her, to be a watcher, and to ask for the Watcher of it all to watch her, until a crashing, a splitting open can happen to take that flow into all of her body, from its home in the mountain, into all the deep valleys of her body, even unto her little toes. Maybe the electromagnetics from deep in the earth can join in and bring life and heat from below, into her aging limbs. She prays to be one with Earthly Mother as well as Heavenly Father and to be in love with those she finds herself joined with in general and in particular.

Indoor tulips letting go.

And if you want to work on some old heavy coat dream or other images, I will be glad to work with you. Perhaps you have a recurring dream of never getting to the place that you love the most, then you can work with me to see how you are blocking yourself with attitude, or mood and never get to that lovely place in yourself. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

The fire burned bright and true.

Green is for the heart chakra

Posted in dreams, Mandalas, meditation | Tagged doodle, drawing of dreams, flowers, Mandala, photos | Leave a comment

Mariah, the Leprechaun walks among the Druidic Ruins.

Posted on February 24, 2018 by rlongwort

Mariah and Uishneach were stirring in the morning. She knew Uishneach was finishing up breakfast, as he was absentmindedly scraping the pot for the past five minutes. Surely he hated the pot, she thought. She would have to check it for holes and have it mended soon by the tinker man if he did not stop scraping the pot. She decided to leave the house early and not get into any tangles with him over the pot. Getting out from underneath the underground would be a breath of fresh spring air.

Walking on the hill

She was unsure which direction to take, to go up the hill or down toward the bog. Both beckoned but she decided to take the path less travelled by her and go up the hill. Surely there was some shrubby hawthorn, stunted by the wind, wanting to burst into bloom that she could fall in love with today.

The robins and the finches were very busy this morning near her house. She noticed a pair of finches busily investigating her roof for a place to nest. They went to an old site, a little ledge, looking dirty form previous uses, now with cobwebs and some other dustiness there. One finch slipped down into a corner, as her feet slipped on some tin and she stayed there for a minute before getting out and foraging for house and food some more.

Bluebird of happiness

The cats that love the sun who are not sun cats.

a little ego goes a long way

The cats were busy chasing the birds with the tabby one especially busy, chasing the newly returned robin, and crossing back and forth as the robin continues her search for food. The black cat got up into the nearby tree, settling on an old rounded branch to better watch everything and to be in the right place if a bird should land near him. He seemed older until he carried on like this. He was feeling the spring sap in his old bones too. She worried about the birds but knew she could not control this hunting by the cats, so she raised up her eyes to the hill she was about to ascend and left the area. She carried a little bundle, as she knew she might stay out for the day, maybe even stay in the underground places to be found near the top of the hill, if she made it that far.

She went by the well that was known for the healing of the eyes. A little of the mud there mixed with water was always helpful on the eyelids and she sat there in the sunshine for a time, with her eyes closed. It was said that a golden woman from the other world had sent down radiance into the water and into the earth there and that it stuck there and never went away. The well was near the base of the hill and her first morning stop.

The Holy Well

She drank her herb tea and soon passed out into a lovely dream. A woman passed by with a halo of star light on her crown trailing light behind her. Her light enveloped Mariah and she was lifted up some feet into the air. She thought she was levitating and started some screaming. She was awake with a startle. She washed her eyes off and went her way. She would have to stop nodding off into dreams every chance she got. She felt energized and decided to return home by the streams instead of going up and up.

She met with Druid Bernie near the well, where he was sitting on a great big round stone among a load of other stones. He told her that this was the place that was settled by the druids in much earlier times and that the stones held certain holiness for him and he liked to meditate there. They used to have some rituals with the blackthorn stick, circling them above their head in healing rituals.

She sat with him for a while meditating too. She felt she sprouted a hundred roots that reached down into the ground and drank in the silence and the holy water. She always felt the energy of the druid increased her ability to concentrate and to get to the place where what was solid in her turned to liquid and what was liquid in her turned to air.

When they finished, after sending out blessings, and feeling blessed, she shared her food with him under a pine tree growing out of some stones. As they sat, an evening shower scattered the sky light into two rainbows and sprinkled them with rain, and purples and blues.

When she came back home tired, the cat plopped out of the tree at her feet, scratched his ear a little and went off to get some food. She was glad there were no errant feathers around her area. She could hear the music coming through from her house and she was looking forward to hearing some favorite tunes that evening. The end.

Rose, this morning is sitting on her porch. She found a pen in her bed and took it as a sign to write something early this day. The bird’s early morning frantic search for food seemed to be over and the cat had come down from the tree and the birds and cats had all left her area.

She had some afterthoughts about the dream from yesterday, about a crash, where she was full of emotions as she looked into the eyes of a person taking their last breath. She was also thinking how the orange ball, connected to the dying person, represented the second chakra in the pelvic basin, Sardis, and how it connects with the sixth chakra in the head, which is a deep rainbow indigo. Some old shells in her body had died to let those two colors mingle in her and lift her into something else.

(The above was written just before the crash, see last posting prior to this: “The actual Crash.” It is interesting that the dream of the crash predated the actual crash by about 24 hours. I call that synchronistic.)

And if you want to talk about your walkabouts, your drawn mandala, your dreams and visions, your own mystery questions, then give me a call and let me know when sitting together will suit you. I like to work on Thursdays at my home office. I can be looked up further on this site and on Psychology Today, if that is something you want to do. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Posted in dreams, Leprechaun, Psychoanalytic | Tagged dream interpretation, dreams, holy well, Ireland, Leprechaun story, meditation, Psychoanalytic, Unconscious, walkabout | Leave a comment

THE DREAM AND THE ACTUAL CRASH

Posted on February 23, 2018 by rlongwort

The Actual Crash

The car against the tree

The car in the hedge

I was in the kitchen, finishing up scraping my plate, and without much planning in my head, when I heard the rattling sound of metals against each other. It was big enough to command attention but did not sound like my house was involved. I quickly looked out my windows looking north as I heard the sound coming from there, but there was nothing unusual. Then I went toward the south side and saw my neighbor on the phone and the white car up against my Catalpa tree. Going further along I saw another white car straddling the hedge, some smoke escaping.

The rescue squad

The police

There was a woman on the ground near this car, fully conscious, telling me her name and saying she got out of her car through the roof as she could not get the doors open. I asked her if I could put a hand on her and she said yes. Sometimes I am conflicted about putting a hand on a person, or shaking hands but it seemed like I wanted to comfort her. Her name was Mercy. Her airbags had deployed and while there was a little track of blood in her mouth, she was fine. She sat cross-legged on the curb for fifteen minutes or more, trying to contact people, relating to childcare and doctor’s appointments. I briefly felt a wave of emotion fall over me. Soon the rescue folks were checking everything and I was not needed.

The ambulance

The fire truck

Accidents that happen here and usually between a car coming down the hill, Wolfe Street, with the stop sign and cars coming over the hill at a fast clip on Sterling Street, coming into an intersection. They seem to be the worst ones, the ones that end up in my yard or the one catty corner, depending on the weight of the car, and speed to propel them against a wall or in my case stopped by a hedge or a tree.

The car in the hedge from the other side

The stop sign face down

The street signs

I found myself recently going down hill, at the next intersection with Myrtle Street, and having to slam on the brakes to comply with the stop sign. The downhill is seductive. The call of appointments, hastening us, scheduled start times at work demanding to be honored.

Tulips inside

Snowdrops outside beside the crashed car

On Mason Street on my way to work, a woman working on her car, stopped what she was doing to let me know I was going too fast. I thought she was mad. She had hair like mine, looking like the math scientist, when the wind blew it up in the air. I may have been speeding. I saw her later, when I was on my bike, worried she might recognize me but I did not get her attention at all. She was watching another car headed into the graveyard. The speed limit is 25. I am going slower now, obeying the rules of the road in a more conscious way.

The lovely snow drops matching the lovely white car.

May I, may we, may all slow down to the speed limit, more especially on the way to appointments and work. May there be four angels holding back the monthly crashes outside my house. May the Catalpa tree and the hedge continue to cushion errant cars on their way toward my house. May all drivers let go of the preoccupations and worries, and say holy prayers like “Mercy, Mercy Mercy” that we may make no metal contact today.

The rescue squad

Now all the bits are gathered up, the stop sign is replaced, the police cars and Officer Kevin is gone, the ambulances are long gone and the girls involved are on their way, one crying, in short spurts, feeling her head and the other is off to the dentist to check on dental stitches she got yesterday, disturbed by the crash.

City employee fixing the stop sign on the spot

Tow-truck

The two tow trucks are gone too and I am left here in silence on the porch to ponder the dream I wrote about yesterday where a man was killed and died in front of me and I was so emotional in the dream. That old synchronicity has hit again. How honest can I be about what my dream is saying to me? What does it take? The hair of my house, the hedge, is not hurt but there is something here to be pondered again.

Car fluids soaked up

Where the car entered the yard.

My dream has taken on new life again falling open in the vacuum created by the magnificent return to normal, as if nothing happened, down to the fine detail of car fluids soaked and swept up. My hedge has joined in the complicity and is trying to upright itself in spite of the smell of its sap left in the air. Both girls have gone on as normal, with an occasional whimper, with a track of blood. Maybe that is some of the lesson for me. To not go on as normal when I have such a dream as that last one, to not go on as normal when something dies in me, that brings me in touch with deep feeling.

City employee fixing the stop sign on the spot

The fire burned bright and true.

And if you want to work on some dreams and get out of the cooler damp weather and consider what the opposites in you are doing, be sure to let me know. I look forward to working with you. Love Rose.

Posted in dreams, Interpretation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged car crash, dream interpretation, dreams, flowers, Psychoanalytic, synchronicity | Leave a comment

GOLDEN DREAMS AND GOLDEN HEARTS

Posted on February 21, 2018 by rlongwort

Spring is in the air

I am delighted to be here in Virginia, where it will be more than 70 degrees on the porch and I have a day to myself. I found some old writing, some of which I had forgotten, and I am combining it below with todays offerings about a dream .

Bluebird of happiness

I was getting up slowly, and sitting at the edge of my bed facing an open screened window. A moving gold coin catches my eye. It is the top of a gold finch’s head, morning sun catching it. As I lean to better see, another finch lands there too. They are young and simultaneously they open their beaks to each other to be fed, chirping and flapping the wings as they do.

The golden moon portrayed by Molly Boland on a quilt.

They soon give up this behavior when it does not produce food for them. Then they investigate the windowsill for some forgotten larvae, a spider, surely something. Then they see each other again and go through the motions again of trying to get food from each other in the absence of the mother. This behavior repeats at least three times right in front of my sleepy eyes. Their little beaks are very clear, clean, sharp, hungry and pink inside. It is spring of 2000 I think.

Mandala with a golden center

I am reminded of a time when a father finch was feeding two baby finches at our big sunflower plants in our yard. Each year the sunflower plants volunteered from seed set out to feed the birds in the wintertime. Some of those sunflowers reached nine feet high and then bent over their heads toward the ground, a one-foot in diameter affair, filled with bursting seeds.

Golden summer flowers

One goldfinch chick landed on the father’s head to better get the seed intended for the sibling. They began to fall together until the little one let go and both few off. I got a fright that time too, as a baby falling is not a good thing.

If we dream of the baby falling then we have to consider how we are uncaring for our inner spiritual baby. It is no use leaving that baby in the hands of a dunderhead in us, who knows that the baby has to leave the burning building but throwing it out the window will not do.

Going into the heart of things

We have to consider that we have a gold coin in our chest, the one that can fly. A spinning top, sending out streams of love, if that is what we desire, if that is what we line up our being for. It grows bigger with use and knocks out blocks. It is falling because we do not want to consider that the baby needs very specific attention from us.

My own version of Buddha, mulling over a dream.

This gold coin causes chaos, yes, but much needed chaos, until flight for that gold thing, in our chest is fed so that flight can be achieved.

Golden coin

May all your loving be golden, may all your finches multiply in your vicinity. May all your falls finish up in finchy flight. May you be fed with the seeds of life. May you recognize such fare, or fall until flight happens, however far down that is.

I had a dream last night of looking out a window and seeing a crash between a truck and a car. The car was squashed and the person’s head is outside the car and looks up into my eyes and he takes his last breath with my eyes held on his. I see a great orange ball below his head. I call 911 and am crying and I get all the attention of the others in my group, to tell them what has just happened. I am greatly moved by this crash. I wake up and it takes me a few seconds to realize it is a dream.

I am telling everyone what happened

I am on the phone reporting

The dead person and the orange is bottom center

My ‘aha moment’ with this dream came when I thought of what I did the day before, where my emotions were high. I have some more work to do on it but connecting to attitudes of the day before is helpful for a start. I wrote the dream down and then drew the orange ball first as a teacup mandala. Then I drew the dream detail.

The crashed up car.

To remember first love.

I go up like Moses

on Mole Hill

Because a fire

Licks in my head,

Up through

black basaltic rock

On old waste places

Looking for revelation,

Up through chakras

Up through seven churches

Silver Lake in Dayton with a flock of geese in transit, with Mole Hill in the background.

Came out on top

Turned around in the evening light

To be lifted into the post and beam

Of clouds and sun

Carried on the flight of the heron

Aloft from Cooks Creek

Walking free

What is old is new again

Old is new again

And if you want to look into some old waste places and find what is new for you again, to find where the boundaries of your soul properties are undulating, then be sure to give me a call. I am always honored to sit and mull, to look and find, what is underneath, whether it is some clash of opposites causing something to crash, burn and die or some wonderful flight of heron or finch. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

A little boat to keep me safe int he unconscious

These are the nails used in putting on the shingles. They are little mandalas in and of themselves. They looked so lovely in their box when I came upon them outside beside my bike.

Posted in dreams, poetry, Psychoanalytic | Tagged birds, drawings, flowers, Interpretation, Mole Hill, poetry, Psychoanalytic | Leave a comment

Dreams into Poems and (Ana)Lysis

Posted on February 14, 2018 by rlongwort

I am posting the second videos to entice you into your own dream world. As you put some serious effort into your dreams, they give back to you. This less than one minute video is about recording the dream in the middle of the night, or first thing in the morning when you usually get the dream.

It is a lovely day in the neighborhood. I am free to sit and write and to clean up inner and outer debris. Two robins returned from the south, in the yard and are lovely, and the little sparrow singing her spring song at 9.00 am is very delightful and beautiful on my ears. I glimpsed a buzzard up above the road turning down Wolfe Street.

These are the nails used in putting on the shingles. They are little mandala in and of themselves. They looked so lovely in their box when I came upon them outside beside my bike.

The roof on my house is replaced and now that the last check is signed and after the last conversation with the organizer and the workers, I am free to work on the roof of my body and to consider some dreams. The dreams and poems below benefited from some work, both in crafting the poem and in considering what they may be referring to.

A mandala and dream become one in this drawing

In the middle of the dreams, I noticed how being late, a motif of dream number three, was also the subject of a communication exercise with someone. I love that thing that can happen, as the inner and outer life mesh.

The more I ground my crayons into this baby , the more my client did the same and changed mood and we both were enlightened by how she finished up her mandala and explained how it was am image of herself and where she is now.

I did a number of mandala during the past few days and am posting them. Some other drawings relate to dream material. Sometimes they are both mandala and dream drawing.

No doubt, I will be gifted by another dream to pull me into more of myself as time goes by.

This drawing goes with first dream below, pretty abstract with the purple square in the middle representing the child. I had a feeling that this drawing is truer to what the dream is about and the dream below is a telling of the dream story as seen by the conscious mind.

Dream 1

There is a pass back and forth

Of the child

From his to her hands

Mother to Father

And back again and again

Child in purple dress

And she watching on the side

Wants the child for herself

Interpretation of above dream

Lysis: (where the energy wants to go.)

To appropriate energy

For selfishness

To notice this

To plan the opposite

To let the child be safe between

The father and mother

Her inner child of grace

No supervised visitation

She needs to supervise her self

Watch without desire

Silent loving

Second Dream to poem

(I went to poetry group and the prompt was to start with the word “little.” I choose to work on a dream at this time.)

” Little” remark

I will stay and fix

The food

Sweep the fine dust and dirt

Steep the tea

Steeped herself

she turned

To face the fine dirt

Bereft to be left

Lost behind

She about faced

And was about to follow

When that woman

With the cold dark curls

Turns and says

“Is that what you think?”

Could that all be the dark curly hair Mandala

Lysis

She had made a decision

To be a domestic

So that the other bitch

Can go out

And be with him

And his rich friends

Leaving nothing

For the one left behind

Doing it to herself

(Remembering all the people in your dreams are part of you, which brings me to an awareness of that split in me that thinks that being social, being improtant, being rich is something in a of itself. The better thing would be to collect that woman and the other couple together and get them to sit and write her in great contentment, with doing what is mine to do. )

3 Dream

She is late for

The Carmelite mass

A booth outside

Has a gun covered

with the material

of the brown habit

That points at her

Shoots her on the right neck

With a knickknack

Explosive but no marks

a well felt thud

No blood

Outside the church, with her bags, getting “shot”

Lysis

Her habit of being late

To Carmelite

To Mountmaru

To the place of birth of

Jesus Love, Rose Love

Connected to Christ

Essean, Mary’s school

Keeps doing the things

That make her late

Hidden cracks

To not create

An image from someone else’s dream

Part 4 – is part of a synchriostic thing that happened at work where we used the fact a client was late to communicate. The dream above, came to me that night after.

I am at work. They practiced communication skills

“You do seem to want to be late.

Is there anything I can do to help

To change this behavior?”

The reply: Started out an hour early

There were a lot of lights, Had to eat at Beau

Jangles on the way.

Only three minutes late, held up by the

paying for the class. I will never be late again.

A mandala created while talking – which gets me into the right side of the brain.

5 The Lysis of all the dreams

The work Lysis come from Analysis and it indicates where the energy want to go. What decision is she making to help the energy go organic, to get a glimpse into psychic?

6 Meditation

To go out of selfishness

To leave on time

For the churches

Where she is expected inside

To say “There is nothing I shall want”

To go no more out

To sit in the silence of interior castles

The seven chakra churches

To keep watching the child

Dressed in purple

Laodicean light

candle above the head

Back and forth

Pulling tighter

wrapped

To each other

until the three

Become one.

Until her head goes back

Her staff goes up

All comforted.

And to comment on the need to not be superior with someone who is late. The communication was full of fun, deciding how to communicate, while dealing with a touchy subject, within group, of being late. After I heard the whole story I was more tolerant, and left the group full of smiles to myself thinking what a marvelous group they are.

Jesus one the donkey

An image from someone else’s dream

Mandala

This writing this morning pulls together the last few days and the unconscious materials offered to me from the dream source. I am looking for an understanding of the purpose to be in this life, interacting with life, considering an answer coming from within, considering the chakras, the inner churches. Meeting the sacred within the three main cavities of her own temple body, the head, the chest and the sacrum. She wants to bring together, through her meditation all she has to offer, to be joined with the infinite and eternal, that is no further away than within. She wants to fill into the purpose for which she is created.

Created for me by one of my favorite clients.

And if you too want to bring dreams out into the open plane of consciousness, consider contacting me through Psychology Today or through this site. I love to hear dreams from others. I find they often bring me into an understanding of something I am puzzling for myself. I have a license for my business at my house. I have a license to practice counseling from the Commonwealth of Virginia, Department of Health Professions.

My orientation is psychoanalytic through dream, mandala and art materials. I have been doing this work for over forty years. I consider all that I meet daily as a gift to me, to be opened with respect and with the prayer of bringing wholeness to all that I meet. I look forward to meeting with you soon. I can be reached through this site and through Psychology Today, where all my credentials have been approved, prior to going up on that site. Love Rose.

Posted in Counseling, Drawing the Dream, dreams, Interpretation, Mandala, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged communication, dream interpretation, dreams, group, Love, poetry, Prayer, roofing, spring day | Leave a comment

Rose Longworth Counseling

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Little Irish Woman Demanding Dreams

Mariah, the Leprechaun walks among the Druidic Ruins.

THE DREAM AND THE ACTUAL CRASH

GOLDEN DREAMS AND GOLDEN HEARTS

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