Rose Longworth Counseling

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

Posted on March 23, 2018 by rlongwort

This igloo had a door and a chimney. They used buckets to make blocks to make the walls and roof. It took many many hours.

Rose had fun watching the igloo across the way in her neighbor’s yard coming into being. This afternoon even as she went over to get a view of the door, it collapsed and was mostly no more. Here are a few photos of the here today and gone tomorrow igloo. When Rose went over to take her photo, she met some neighbor friends and had a little dream group with their dog in attendance. Repeating childhood dreams were discussed and two more recent dreams that had some disturbing elements according to the person who told them. She advised them all to wash their hand in order not to get her cold which is still progressing. Her croaky voice was fixed up a lot by her hot tea ritual. Her cold is now in the middle phase, sneezing, snoozing, shivering and generally listless by the evening.

The engineer of the igloo and his dog.The dog likes to eat snow

Mornings are good. The sun is shining, and the snow is melting. There is a great sound of trickling water on her sunny porch, where Rose sits, well covered up with woolens, staying warm. She meditated in the night just after 2.00 am and in the morning again and continues to look for the sense of pure silence, the sense of her heart connecting to and stilling her mind. Her breath and bones are settling into telling her how she is connected up physically, mentally and spiritually. She invokes God’s angels of wisdom, power and strength before sending out the light to others. She is working on not forgetting to pray for her readers.

The sun is shining out there again.

She found the missing teapot among the plants, where she left it after serving tea to a client. It held the lid of the green teapot on top. There were too many things on the teapot table, so she had to put it on the plant shelves. Two large dream dictionaries sat there. Her client came with dreams at the ready and had drawn a mandala as instructed. Her drawing was taken directly from one of her dream images discussed in the previous session. Her client liked her cup of tea.

On the occasion of her second session her client did not have another remembered dream but there was plenty of material to work with from the previous dreams and drawings. She drew a mandala in session, which morphed, as she was talking, into six fish in the circle, vibrant colors. She was able to put her own interpretation on what it meant for her, and Rose having worked with colors through her MARI trainings, has some interpretation for the colors.

In the 90’s, Rose’s mentor loved her tea and might gossip a little over it. She would serve it with honey and sugar and sometimes a slice of toast. Rose usually travelled three hours to see her so she would be spaced out by the time she got there. Her mentor might administer some ginseng or a cooked meal. When she was ready she was all business for the work in hand. She would then elicit dreams from Rose. Sometimes she would have Rose draw a mandala in session. Rose always brought her own sheaf of mandalas and dreams with her. Toward the end of the session she would ask about the mandalas that Rose brought with her. Then she would choose a few, two or three or sometimes more and give her interpretation. Both would be quiet as she furiously scribbled on a piece of recycled paper, in writing that was hard to read. Rose would take out her book and have her mentor dictate what she had written. This material often connected up with the dreams.

Rose taped the sessions and tried to listen to the very old tapes some time ago and it was surreal to hear the interpretations. They seemed so right and barely attended to at the time. At the end of the session her children, who hung out in an other room with their father babysitting, would come in and the tape was not turned off. It was delightful to hear their baby voices expressing themselves. That was then and this is now so Rose chooses to let those tapes lie for now waiting for the push from inside to take a second look at them.

Rose fills compost into a bag on the counter. The bag sits in a slightly cracked red crock-pot. After she paced some eggshells in the bag, she was using the tap nearby and the bag moved by itself. It gave her a fright, as she was not expecting any movement in her peripheral vision to her left. She thought someone had entered the space. She laughed at herself and thought of that dream of being cared about. Hardly remembered yet remembered through the bag moving involuntarily.

Her filing system leaves a lot to be desired.

Rose is cleaning out her basket of papers, a catchall for all she is not sure she wants to deal with in the moment. It was overflowing, but placed behind her couch, the overflow just slid under the couch, watched by the six aloe plants above in the window. As she made piles for filing, trash etc., she was pleased to find two checks she had dumped in there instead of in her pocket book. Having to deal with a business account is an added something but over all she is glad to have the business put up its head and be counted.

Her plants like the morning sunshine

Rose continues to put up her head into working with her own dreams and those of all she meets. Now if someone says for the tenth time “I have a dream for you,”Rose is inclined to give him or her an appointment to work on the dreams. This has been working for her. She also gives her cards to friends and strangers, churchgoers and work colleagues. She also gets some referrals, one from the roofer. Her numbers reading her blog is slowly climbing. Someone in Sweden, India and others from far away places, read her blog. Sixty percent of her readers yesterday gave her a like on her web site, that is, two out of three readers hit the like button on the same day it went up.

The igloo was starting to dive already here.

Rose watched the movie Casablanca last night. It was such a beautiful movie, where you had the right feeling at the end that the right thing was done. For Rose it brought out the idea that true love is eternal and acceptance of the fate that kept the lovers apart at the end was ok by her. She just loved how it all fell together in this old classic. “Here’s looking at you kid,” takes on new associations for her.

Mandala

And if you want to cough up some dreams and melt them with the March warming sun and see them take on a flowing life of their own, with attention from you and I , them be sure to call and schedule. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

Mandala from 1990s

Old mandala art – self portrait

mandala

Posted in dreams, Mandala, meditation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged cold, dreams, igloos, Mandala, meditation, Snow, tea | Leave a comment

A Basket Full of Sweetness

Posted on March 21, 2018 by rlongwort

My bike out through the window with its basket full of snow.

I woke up to a basket of snow this morning, beautiful and sweet to look at. I also have a cold, and I am carrying a little basket of something else, which is causing coughing. I feel energetic after a meditation with my candle and incense and after a large mug of tea laced with ginger and turmeric and honey. I am trying to cut down on the honey but having a cold, seemed to give me permission to increase the sweetness; maybe it would heal me somehow.

Candle and incense at the base of the candle.

Someone came in my dream to make sure I am ok and I am. I may even be healthy, just getting rid of some dross in my system and this is one way to do it. I was not careful of my food intake at the weekend so I blame myself for letting the cold rip. However the immune system will benefit from a little challenge, getting stronger after a cold.

Snow on the hedge

Other dreams include visiting a healer, who took the calf of my leg in his hands and manipulated the bone against the muscles. The next day I had no pain. At the Kundalini Yoga class on Monday night Seri Amrita, teacher, spoke of some illness as karmic. We can be totally healthy and yet have something to deal with. I read of this concept another place as well. I have been dealing with pain issues for some years. I manage it well enough sometimes and very well most of the time. When I do my work with dreams, this lack of attention to myself seems to take me totally away from any pain, and it falls out of awareness and into its own sweetness.

189-Final 1600 Purnima Siri Amrita-464.jpg

Rose front and center at the oil shop in Benares, India. I got seven oils and one free one. They were all lovely.

I read some of the Patangali teachings late last night when I could not stop coughing. I found some of my best remedies and partook of them, which included a camphor rub. I was looking for a particular oil I got in India but in the half dark, I mistook the smell and put musk oil on my chest and throat. Then I found the one I wanted; mint, thyme and a eucalyptus mix. Both settled on like a balm and I was soon reading and praying and off to sweet sleep after that.

Patanjali statue

Mandala taken outdoors

Pearls in the center

Burning white sage

I paid attention to Patangali’s injunctions this morning, to pay attention to the naval, and it will help me be in contact with the body, pay attention to the heart chakra and that will help me mentally and finally pay attention to the head space and above and that will get me in contact with saints and masters who have mastered this art of meditation to bring them into a higher dimension.

The branches of the Catalpa Tree covered in snow.

I did deep breathing, with one deep breath of attention for each of the three areas. I achieved some concentration and some illumination. The illumination is that stopping the thoughts is a great idea, and I achieved this through the simple act of paying attention to the breath and focusing on the three different areas. At the end I prayed for you all and did indeed feel blessed and could send out blessing after this effort. I did not want to stop but I sang my ending prayer of “The Lord is my Shepherd” as a way to close it all down and as a protection prayer. Sometimes I also sing, “May the Long Time Sun” prayer as well or instead of.

The other Catalpa tree in the front yard.

Saturday I had a game evening with my friends and their almost three-year-old boys, who were rowdy and not quiet terrible yet. We managed to play two games in total and enjoy the whole affair. That night I dreamed of one of the boys. He was a little bigger in my dream and he pulled out a chair for me at my breakfast table and said the words “Welcome.” There was nothing on the table, unlike how it usually is with salt etc. and plants taking up about a third of it.

The view of the snow from inside my office.

I found myself singing about this welcome on Sunday Morning. I was reminded of my daughter’s song, some of the words of which are “Here in the garden, the garden of Eden, you are welcome here. … Lay your burden down, at the foot of the table now.” She composed it in France, and sang it in Germany at a concert. Her consort at the time was Maxime Nardini, who accompanies her beautifully. She has an on line presence.

The CD I have is replaced and available.

My version of the song included the word above and went on into bringing your burdens from the north, south, east and west and laying them down. Those directions our minds take us will not be too helpful when you want to move up or down in yourself. The next part of the song was about getting into the center, where the lighted rod and staff, will comfort you, as it lights up through your back bone and higher. Then the burdens are truly laid down. I felt marvelous after that singing, where my eyes watered up, which I noticed after the fact.

Monday was a great lighthearted day for me too. I feel the dream word, “Welcome” became an integral part of my Sunday meditation and the dream shows me that when I sit to write that I do not need to bring anything to it except that sitting, the centering. This centering will come and get better in time and the toddler is showing me and I am “Welcome” to the help I am being given through the centering, through the dreams, a sweet awareness.

The sweetness of this work can be yours too, as you look into those dreams and record them. I am very happy to work with you when you are ready, setting out a table with paper for mandala drawings, drawing materials and the sweet spot, a basket to let the dream fall out, to be held and to be opened into the sweetness it has to offer you from your own unconscious. I look forward to hearing from you. Love from Rose.

To forget he was one of the chosen ones of the Spirit

Posted in dreams, meditation, Psychoanalytic, Uncategorized | Tagged baskets, bike, cold, dreams and meditation, games, immunity, oils, Snow, sweetness | Leave a comment

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day Leprechaun Story

Posted on March 17, 2018 by rlongwort

Saint Patrick had come to Ireland not so long ago so everyone was running around with shamrocks and wearing green. Mariah and Uishneach tried to get with the whole new program and settled for a teapot covered with shamrocks to show their acceptance of the new status quo.

Except it is now St Patrick’s Day and the little white teapot with the shamrocks on it has gone missing. After a thorough search of her abode she only saw the lid sitting there innocently without the most important part, the body. Mariah, when she saw it stopped in her tracks and glared at it. But there was no answer from the lid. She scratched her own head wondering who had been through the house with sticky fingers. Or perhaps Uishneach, in an effort to be helpful, had stashed it away somewhere out of sight, not in its usual place. He sometimes did things like that. She was well used to the big and little spoons being mixed up and not in their right places.

He was wearing his dark green shirt, which she thought looked like a forbidden forest color and comments to him on it, as she asked about the teapot. He said he knew he would be blamed, even though he had nothing to do with its disappearance.

He felt obliged to walk around to find her teapot and came back with the blue teapot. She hated that thing. And the lid was tiny and was in no way connected to reality and took a dive at any cup it was poised over to fill. She lost some of her finest china that way. The lid was cracked even now. That pale blue color was deceptive.

She settled for the dark green teapot and put the errant lid from the shamrock teapot on top. As she sat there drinking her tea, she wondered if she left the teapot outside someplace. Sometimes she took it out with her to watch the beautiful sun rise. She would have to wait to see where it turns up.

When Uishneach left for the day he gave her a little kiss goodbye not sure of his welcome from her over the missing teapot. She insisted on a much better one, as she was sure he would last many years longer if he kissed her goodbye properly. She informed him of this before his exit, and he said, “So now I will be dead in five years.” “No” she said, “now you will live five years longer than you were going to live, because I kissed you goodbye.” He made a hasty exit.

Mariah making tea

As she sat drinking her tea, which was less than perfect, because of the missing teapot, and because the milk was a little old and the honey had turned to sugar, and sat at the bottom of her cup, and because she could not gauge the right ratio of tea to water due to the usual teapot having gone someplace else, on strike, not on duty. Her father would think very little of this cup of tea. He preferred a tin teapot that gathered up a lot of dark tannins on the inside and could be left into the coals to be brewed right and kept hot.

She forgot the big problems she had and lapsed into thinking about Druid Bernie. He had been talking lately of the word “resentment” and he was claiming that all the “resentments” that leprechauns had in their thoughts would gather up together and cause harm to those they were intended for and for other innocent people in other parts of the worlds.

He also claimed that the word itself, when broken down, spoke of what happens with resentment. When Mariah has thoughts of resentment, then she is “resending” negative thoughts again and again toward the person she is holding them for, in fact every time she thinks about that person she “resends” those thoughts as energy fields. Druid Bernie did not think it was a good practice, and there was the possibility of the bad thoughts gathering up as a collective cloud and finding expression in disasters. She was having second thoughts right there about going to his talks at the end of the lane, under the big trees. How was she ever going to change that lovely practice she had and she knew everyone else had as well? She would not stop that habit unless everyone else did.

In the mean time she decided to visit the bog and maybe have a little bath in that lovely brown water, as it seemed to make her skin whiter and she always felt wonderful after a dunking there, and it might wash a few resentment off of her. Who knows, the teapot might be found there somewhere. The end.

And if you want to take your resentments in hand, and if you want to stop sending out clouds of questionable thoughts, like swarms of angry bees, then it is a good time to work on dreams and catch up with your shadow, your higher self and the many others archetypes that inhabit our psyche. You can send and resend me your message that is meant to get to me and there will be nothing but good thoughts around setting up an appointment with me in my lovely little office. Love from Rose.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.

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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

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