This gallery contains 12 photos.
Originally posted on Rose Longworth Counseling:
Mary in 2014 enjoying Macy’s window. It is three years ago today that my youngest sister died in Ireland. I wrote about her then and have added some new pictures now to honor her…
How the bacon feels
There were two pieces of bacon left and she had her eye on one of the pieces, maybe more. She felt a little guilty she had eaten the rest of the side of bacon, quietly, deliberately, munchingly. It was so sweet, crisp and uneven, sizzling on the black pan on the red hot coals of turf. In the black cold of winter, it had a way of filling up her emptiness very satisfyingly.
Whipping up the cream
In a moment of guilt and lapsing greediness, she told Uisneach about the two last pieces of bacon, forgetting to mention her name was on one of the pieces, assumed he would figure that all out. That morning he ate breakfast earlier then she, and he was well finished, his mess cleaned up, by the time she was ready to eat. She felt she knew what she might eat for breakfast, what concoction of greens, or eggs or porridge might pass her lips. She especially knew the bacon was on her plate that morning. Her eyes were a little lit up, a little green glint, from the inside glow her thoughts of the bacon were creating on her.
She got the coals ready, the pan was hot and she went to find the bacon. There was no sign of it. She looked around the corner. Uisneach was busy with his papers and she asked if he had seen the bacon. Not only had he seen it, but also he had eaten it. There was no smell of bacon. Had he cooked it? Was he sure he had cooked it and eaten it. He said he lightly cooked it and ate the lot. She wondered if it had even greased his lips. She left quickly so he would not see how long her face was getting.
Thinking about using the pan in the wrong way
She went back to the hot pan and to find the porridge that was nine days old and a little frozen waiting for its lot to be eaten. She placed in on the pan and in the coals above and below, with the tight lid on it. She waited for it to send out a slight smell of burning, and when it was bubbling she turned it over and made a crisp skin on the top and bottom. She whipped her fury about the bacon into some cream and honey. As she jumped around trying to get it to whip up, it slipped out of her greasy little fingers and was gone. She sat down near the mess, crying for all the injustices that ever beset her and ended up with the bacon and the cream, her most favored food, in her mind. She knew cleaning up her mess would not be easy.
Faces that porridge can make
The porridge was not a bad breakfast but whenever she thought of the bacon and cream, she went a little sour, which in turn made her stomach sour and she had to carry around that lot for the day with her, eating a little of this and drinking a little of that to settle everything down again. Later, when she met druid Bernie, who never ate any bacon ever, and petted pigs and gave them names, she walked with him a ways. This adjusted her mood a bit, and when she told him of her not feeling well, he gave her apple pieces to feed to the pig and said it would make her feel better. Giving pieces of apple to the pig and hearing him snuffle it all down gave her a certain pleasure and she paused to think it might be good thing to not be eating pieces of this lovely pink pig. She left feeling fine again.
Her stomach was a little sour
When Rose woke up that morning, she had a dream. It reminded her of the Black Madonna and “The Child of Prague,” to whom, her mother prayed. As she awoke she knew to wait a second and not think of her dream, as something had to happen first. She waited. A wave of undulating movement went over her chest from one shoulder on one side to lower on the chest on the other. It looked similar to the thing that happens on her web site when she presses on the button “publish.” Then she remembered the dream.
It was the third or fourth ‘being chased’ dream, only this time there was a tall statuesque woman, beautiful, who was doing the chasing. She came in and as she turned to sit down she said how sorry she was for chasing Rose. Rose was a little amazed at this, hardly knowing how to take the apology. She presumed that all the chasers, including the killer, was sent by this black Madonna to get her attention.
The Black Madonna and her daughter with the guitar
And when the madonna had her attention, and had her meditating in earnest, painting in watercolors, writing, making music, exercising, and then had her have the right attitude within these activities, then and only then could she come in and sit down and say she was sorry. Rose feared these chasing dreams as she lacked an interpretation that satisfied her. She said that a follow up dream would come to explain things to her and it did. Rose finally became “In earnest” about taking her quest to another level.
The right attitude is the one where she finally gets it. She is reminded of the parable of the Sower who goes out to sow the seed. The picture that came to her was of a tall woman with flowing hair, who was throwing out something of a gossamer quality, that changes the nine feet of space around her. This changes the space she walks in. The sower knows what she needs to sow. She knows of the miracle of the seeds multiplying, from one to one hundred and it is love she is sowing. If she does not know that nothing else matters. If she does know that nothing else matters.
And if you want to understand what your dreams are about, hear their commentary on your spiritual efforts, then make sure you come and work with me with your dreams, your creativity and with your spiritual practices. For you see I am a counselor who works with dreams in her private practice and can be contacted through this site. I can also be found in the Center for Marriage and Family Counseling, working with clients on Tuesdays and Mondays as a Licensed Professional Counselor each week. You can access my information on Psychology Today.
Love from Rose
Mariah, the Leprechaun, was adjusting to the freezing weather and was considering how to block off the four breezes that met in her kitchen. One breeze came from the attic, another from the basement and the other two from her two doors. Sometimes a feather might lift off her table and resettle a few inches over. Rugs and turf fires were some help to prevent the cold creeping up her legs as often as it could. She and Uishneach would argue over whose turn it was to heat up the bed first each night. Uishneach the furnace mumbled about blocks of ice for feet and was soon asleep.
It was then she had to think about other thoughts that were in her head. She began to think there was a stamp on her head. The stamp of whom she belonged to, the stamp of her original maker. Her house is not her house and her body is not her body because it all belongs to her Maker. However she seems to be in charge of the state of her house and of herself.
She could do as she pleased. Cook what she pleased, create atmosphere as she pleased and go where she pleased. It seemed a very loose arrangement as she pulled the many colored quilts over her head.
She looked at the blade of grass and saw it grow until there was a seed head on top and she counted the different kinds of seed heads on her way and she found twenty different kinds on a thirty foot stretch. That was some maker of just the grass. She certainly did not create that.
Druid Bernie seemed to think that we are spit out by the Maker of all and that we are on our way back, and can tarry however long we want to here, getting to know how it all works, having free will, so we can get a grip on our evolution, helped by love, and the fruits of the spirit and by and meditation, in particular.
He seemed to think we might be evolving from the hard core real of the cold physical and rational world and into the ascendance that a good story brings, or a good prayer or chat with the Maker. Being together with others, in love, laughing evolving onto higher energy, yet still here, heaven on earth, seemed to be his thing. He liked to meditate and have others do the same, as this brought down an energy on you that changed your heart when combined with ordinary efforts to be in helpfulness with others and in love with all of it.
Indeed Maria often did meditate. Druid Bernie had put forward that we are marvelously made by our maker and that as we meditated we could open up these temples within us that are already there, this maker standing at the door waiting on us it seemed. That which made the blade of grass to rise, that Life, could also ascend through us and make us fruitful in a spiritual way. The blade of grass does not have to think. We insist on thinking. And that the thinking of our thinking is what creates us in our here and now, held in the way we find ourselves. We can use that thinking as a servant of the higher in us if we wanted.
She decided to sit down that early, early morning as New Year’ first morning was upon her and to see what’s it all about. She tried to keep her attention centered in the center of her head, as that was where there were two cathedrals beside each other inside. Druid Bernie had names for them. She felt herself flying backwards. It lasted a few seconds.
Something did rise in her if only for a few seconds leaving her landing and quickly coming to a stop. She felt held in a speed, a vibration that was beyond words. She ended her meditation her usual way by releasing all that got in the way of her path to the light. Then whatever light she had raised, she sent to others, who requested help and surrounded others with the light, especially all her relatives near and far. When she was finished it was two hours before dawn, time for this bird to get back to sleep she thought, and with a smile on her face she raced away into slumber. She might put her nose out into the cold the next morning but only for a few minutes, as she put many woolens on her, and looked like a little onion rolling up the lane.
The Lane
When Rose awoke on New Year’s day she was surprised to find it was near eight o’clock and the temperature way down to one degree outside. She had a dream she was going on a trip to Morocco. However she did not have her passport with her, as she got ready to leave. She connected the dream to her inability to acknowledge she is not prepared properly and she should make some solid plans to increase this readiness to be in the bliss of it all, to ascend and fly as well as land and be in the landing in the here and now.
Rose joined some friends, as she does every year at this time, expressing in art her hopes for the new year and making it solid, inviting in the right side of the brain, to be up-close and personal with the creator maker side of herself, on this first day of the year. An attempt at sealing her life to the Life of her Maker today, stealing a little fire, making symbols to inform her unprepared self where this Rose is going this year.
And if you would like to get the year off to a good start then know I am available for consultation through your own dreams. I will lead you through this special trip of your unconscious dream into taking it into the conscious through art work and mandala and association. It is always a good thing to get a hold on your personal energies that can bring you that new year boost so needed in the cold and winter of the year, in the cold and winter of ourselves. May you be in Love, in Peace and in Warmth this coming New Year. From Rose.
Someone prays for a man, who had requested prayer, because he will be homeless soon. In the prayer, that he would find housing was addressed, as well as his religious affiliation. I complained that she prayed in this way. There was a direct request to her identified Holiness to have the Holiness of the homeless person “fall off his perch.” Later I felt bad, as getting others to join your particular religions organization is a sacred duty to many. The temptation to have control here is always an invitation. If in doubt about this I could focus on straightening myself out. I could start with my attitude and my knees.
Stirring the pot in Amritsar
I have attended services and preformed the practices connected to a few different religions.
I was smitten by the Golden Temple in Amritsar in India, climed to the top saying my prayers and wept when I reached the top.
I loved the practices of the Hindus in Varanasi/Benares, lighting candles and placing them on the river Ganges with my prayers. Coming in by boat to the that Holy City and being out in a boat for the festival was a great treat.
Lighting the Candles to set on the Ganges during the Festival of Lights (Benares)
I fell in love with Guru Nanak and his river Bein, and the tree that is still alive at his temple, growing in love for 5oo years.
The Holy Stupa of the Buddha in Katmandu and its prayers wheels made me right at home as I spun each wheel as I spun myself around, in the hopes of coming around right. I prayed for my grown up children there in particular.
I have links to Christianity since I was in the womb. In one of my dreams of Jesus, he was asleep, and I was tiptoeing around trying not to wake him up but he was woken and jumped up ready to go.
Jesus was asleep in the boat when the storm hit.
He appears in a dream wearing blue jeans in another woman’s dream. In meditation I was sure that he said that if I sang at church that he would play. He is archetypal, meaning many things to individual dreamers, bringing in new energies, representing god-like inclinations within the person.
I have counseled with others from different faiths. Some older women, immigrants, smelling of tea, a beautiful suggestion, would smile and glance upwards and put their hand up in a turning gesture in the air, as they acknowledged their God’s presence in all situations, including illness. Others talked of the helpfulness of the prayer mat and bowing their head and saying their secret prayers to God. I always ask people how they pray but would never ask about affiliation or recommend any in particular
She spoke some English when we were given food at the Temple Site
A disregard for the spiritual in life is said to increase the presence of mental illness and unhappiness. Two of my mother’s prayers were “Pour fourth, we beseech thee Oh Lord, Thy Grace into our hearts.” And “May the Divine Assistance always remain with us.” I use them like mantra at times. At a weekend workshop with Snatam Kaur some years ago at Yogaville I told these two mantras to Snatam and she straightened up, put her hands together and murmured her holy words in response. I always remember her smile and this lovely gesture of hers. She sings divinely and was thought to sing the holy songs of her practices while still a child.
Once in meditation, I felt myself turn over energetically, within my body, and it brought to mind those people who go on pilgrimage once in their lifetime so they too can turn their life over to their chosen God. The bowing down is a necessary and archetypal thing as you go along in your spiritual path. It is something that has to happen within. Jesus recommended we bow down too, as low as the eye of the needle, which is a low door into Jerusalem, and the camels could not go through there, because of how low it is. A song came to me after meditation as follows: “All is one, One is all, All is One, One is All, All is one, All is One, There is only One. ” I chant this song at intervals.
I recently talked to a American man who had not heard of Mecca or the black rock to be found there. Yesterday I saw a picture of it from the air, with thousands of people dressed in white, all bent over in prayer, in white, in concentric circles, around this massive black square. It made for a marvelous mandala. Millions make this journey once in a lifetime and stay there for five days praying, praying five times a day. Struggling for rightness within, within the place of pilgrimage, is a place to be greatful and a place to start to change. They bring to this earth a godliness that is grace filled.
I had a dream of being chased by the usual shadow sort who is pretty determined to kill me. I am not that concerned, yet am keeping an eye on this orange person in the woods of my favorite park. My shadow would prefer to kill me than see me make a move forward to take power back from the shadow side of myself. I am not afraid. I have forgotten the follow up dream but at the time it made me think that I am making some progress with wresting some power from my shadow side. Why else would shadow be trying to kill me. I hope I am right. No doubt the next dream will bring in my next adjustment. I am remembering that my dreams are asking me to adjust toward evolving.
Putting my candle on the Ganges during the Festival of Lights in Benares
I am learning that it is always better to not try and wrest power from others however they are praying or what ever they are doing. It is their prerogative. I just have to make sure I am praying in the right way, asking for help from angels, inviting in the Life into my body and soul and go from there. And if you have a desire to wrest some power from your shadow side be sure to contact me and we can sit and see what can be uncovered. It will make you free. May all freedom be yours in the year to come. Love from Rose
At the Party a few days ago I had a great time with family and friends. There was some interesting questions, conversation about unsolvable problems, a little excitement when a dish blew up for little reason and of course the game of Quiddler at the end when some of us reverted into being two-year olds as we played and laughed at the words we accumulated.
A few of our party group attends a weekly mindfulness meditation group and one asked if meditation was enough? Was action not an essential part of, or follow-up to the act of meditation? Meditation for me is an action in and of itself. This stopping of everything into silence brings energy into me and into the world. Whether it is a shuddering throughout the body or as a sap rising into all parts of your body with an extended shiver, or something else, it feels like a good energetic thing to me. I of course need to live my life on a daily basis, nodding to the touchstone of meditation often, in my mind’s eye.
The party goers. We all kept our clothes on.
Through my efforts at meditation I bring life into myself and by extension into my work, that would not be there without the meditation. My work is with dreams and counseling. I asked if the questioner above meditated daily. Vagueness followed. Others should become more active, the questioner said. Another explained that she went to a meeting of the town relating to development and she talked about all her rage against those developers that did not care about her city, nature or the people therein. The old wise trees and the clearing of all vegetation brought sadness and “the put up a parking lot” brought some laughter.
The questioner had great presence and I can only think she would do very well politically. She is projecting when she is complaining about others not getting involved. She has the power to be very effective when she gets involved, stopping some developer in his tracks it seems, earlier this year. She noted that some ninety year old woman, spoke her three minutes and that had its effect on the outcome which was positive for the citizens.
Singing about the issues can be helpful
My reaction, after the fact was that the dark side wins when we are enraged. If we are enraged, we are not in love and in that place of bringing love into the world. Gandhi had an idea of being peaceful in protesting. The dark side is delighted if we are enraged and in fear of protesting. If we as a people pray and meditate and send out love and light and healing to others that will bring the change. Love your enemies is the christian injunction and “May you be well and happy” comes in through Buddah. Prayer groups got going in England to counteract Hitler. Asking for help through prayer helps me with a difficult situation, if only I pause long enough to ask for that help. We can appreciate the power of prayer by using it in our own lives. One of those gathered said the prayer “Let peace prevail on Earth and let it begin with me.”
Of course rage can get you motivated, then the spirit and mind working together can lead you into doing something that would never happen without that rage, righteous anger, getting things going. There has to be follow up to the rage. And out of the followup, a way of the Lord opening to bless the city, to save the city, to protect, to challenge comes through.
Before the meal we all gathered to pray and the big dish of food gave off a big shot like noise and the glass shattered into many pieces, going all over the floor. We had gathered near the table but were not hurt in any way. It was a mess. It happened as the cook of the dish invoked the ancestors. We wondered if it was connected. The prayers were stopped and we cleaned up. One person knew a college student who ate glass without any ill effects. The pie was delicious as I tried some of it at the end. Our host and cook lamented “if you only knew how much time and effort went into it.” I believed her. I told the above story at work and our office manager claimed that the same exact thing happened to her at Thanksgiving. Big noise, shattered dish, out of oven 20 minutes and the bag of turkey was fine in its bag. Our conversation at the table is mute about synchronicity, energy of ancestors, other good and or crazy energies, and so on.
When I was cooking my veggie dishes I invoked the Angel of Joy to fill the veggies with some joyful energy and I kept trying to discern how to cook and season the two dishes. I prepared them the night before, cleaning, topping and tailing, slicing and dicing. I went to bed knowing I would know how to deal with them in the morning. I looked up several recipe books, as I played a game the night before. When the timer went off the next morning someone accidentally turned off the oven. I was invited to be in a rage but I managed to check that off the possibilities as I had invoked the Angel of Joy, who would be so redundant, if I started a big argument. It can be the easiest and hardest thing to do in the moment.
I got a dream from one of the attendee of the party about some ancient teeth needing to be shared with others. She associated it to “Wisdom Teeth.” She leaned back, stepped back and put up her arms as she considered what wisdom she might have to bring into her neck of the woods. When will we be ready to look for that wisdom within ourselves that will be so effective wherever we are led to apply it. “That yoke is easy, that burden is light.” The dreams stand ever at the ready and they get better especially when we enlist their help.
As we come to the end of this year and think of what we want in the new year, I hope to continue in art and with dream interpretation. And if you want to look at your projections onto others and retake the energy to yourself, be sure to consider some sessions with me in which we will invite your vast creative unconscious energy to play its game in your life.
May you have a Happy New Year as you let go of the old. May you start recording your dreams. May you keep and use an art kit often. May you meditate daily however few the minutes. May blessings fall out of heaven not room enough to receive on you. May the Angels flock around bringing you all the help you ever need.Love from Rose
Gift From Peru
I like to work on some poems for my poetry group and have been playing with one below for a few weeks. I consider the first one as my Happy Christmas Poem inspired by Silent Night, and the second one below is connected to my meditation practice. I wish you the merriest and the most peaceful Christmas ever.
In the midst of meditation during the night, I did some breathing exercise, sang some chants, focused on the caverns of the head, chest and pelvis and said prayers and focused on my list of people I have on my prayer list, sending them my version of light, love and healing.
In Guatemala
At my church, this morning, I am concerned with singing an old hymn of my mother’s, the first line of which ran; “I will sing a hymn to Mary, the Mother of my God..” I did not sing it during the church quiet time as I might have, and almost forgot about it until one person spoke their message and reminded me of it. I sang the first verse in total. After I sat down I noticed lots of shivers went through my whole body changing my feelings and comfort levels. It felt good. There were some tears in my eyes.
I was thinking about my comfort level with Mary and praying to her and where she would reside within. I remember there is two streams each side of the backbone and one is the feminine side called Ida. My church was heavy on the Our Father aspect of God but Mother Mary, while sang to and prayed to, was not as high. My mother of course had Mary firmly on top. She was the “Mother of God.” Mother and Father God represented as the caduceus, two that intertwine and meet on top, one balancing the other, having a place within.
This is not a caduceus
The eastern folks have their “Mata Shakti” who is a mother of it all. And the Egyptians have Isis, and there are many more parallel streams for the creative side of the God.
As a woman I feel connected to Earthly Mother through breath and body and bones. I am asking her to protect and comfort me and I say I will not forsake her. Earthly Mother and Mary are interwoven for me.
These little pink heart flowers never give up blooming this winter.
Many prayers can be found to the Mother. Prayers can be made up on the spot. On a more individual level, Mary is the one who agreed to be the carrier of the infant Jesus, who would die on the cross in front of her. He is also the one who would become the miracle worker. The collective Earthly Mother is the one who is putting the aliveness into everything from the grass to us.
Mary’s life had thorns in it.
So when I prayed to her this morning, “Oh teach me holy Mary, a loving song to sing, to love and praise thy name” I am addressing the mother of Jesus person. When I felt those shivers that shuck through me, I also got the image of being struck by the match of Shakti at the level of the heart chakra, and like a gas flame that runs around I could see the flame running around me at my heart level, and out into the arms. I thought of the biblical words relating to the golden girdle around the chest. It was something to come into that feeling that accompanied the lighting. I still have to deal with my life but am comforted by this happening.
I wrote a poem based loosly on Silent Night and a second one which is connected to my meditation practice. I wish you the happiest of holidays.
1. Silence quake
Until you are virgin
Shake into
Conception of
Love’s pure light
Child
Radiance breaks
Through facade
Shattering
light beams
Stream
Into your face
Carry
Sacred secret
Pure singing
Hosting the
Heavenly
In your heart
11
Come into the aloneness
Come into the stillness
Look into the blackness
Discern the disks flying
Discern indigo pillars
Discern
Blue white tracks
Up over the back
Hear sounds in the crown
Sage green
Insist on seeing
Insist on ripple
Insist on heart
round and nipple.
Enjoying Mother Nature
I visited with my friend who has a two year old who is playing up on his ability to monopolize her time. I can be impatient, perhaps having a slight temper tantrum of my own, while looking on. I was released from this when I started to interact with the child, one on one, and loved when he jumped on my back or when I told him I would not let him go until he stopped walking through the cards we were playing.I came away feeling like I was given a great Christmas gift of laughter and connection.
My sisters are pictured here at my sister Celine’s wedding with my parents, maternal grandmother, and the groom, Michael Lennon and his sister Bridie Lennon. My sister Teresa Wells in England is missing from this picture.
I had two dreams. The first one has a lot of atmosphere and is easy to recall now. It is set within my family, with all my sisters mad at me because I have done something unwittingly, letting my old aunt get her medication and sell it. I feel frustration, as I am claiming innocence in the whole deal, and of course do not want to be held to account by the sisters. I did not know about this selling.
Possible Dream Sisters
The second one is a follow up dream that seems to be connected, as it occurred the next night and is equally vague and full of atmosphere. What I brought back from the unconscious is that I am in charge of someone, who has hidden a dead body in some sand, in an alcove, near a swimming pool. I am worried about contamination. I know that disturbing the dead body will add to the risk.
Uncontaminated water in Riven River
I am in the process of asking why I have to deal with some pain. I am saying that it is Karmic in nature and am asking for understanding. It is hard to say thank you for the pain as it fluctuates between intense sciatic nerve pain and getting it to calm down completely. At its worst it has a piercing quality as it has now.
I say a prayer that the blood would get around the painful area and release me. At the same time I am using one hand as I read, to massage my leg, where the stiffness and pain resides the worst and when I finish, after about 20 minutes, I am released from the pain. I expect it to continue to bug me but for now the pain has reduced to a one or two. I want to understand what is involved here.
I consider the aunt is part of me. We share a birthday. Is she representing that part of me that unless I wake up and watch what she is doing with awareness, I will be caught off guard and doing something I would not want to be doing. I am under the influence of that in me that wants to do something underhand but I am not aware of this influence. It is not one that is good for me. Drug dealing in the psyche is equal to trying to avoid the pain without looking at it.
The Dream Aunt
The second dream about the contamination is saying there is the potential for lots of really nasty emotions, as I try and let go of that which is contaminating me, my psyche. I have to be awake to stay in awareness as I go about my spiritual practices and go about my life. I could be on the verge of having a temper tantrum, much like the two year old above.
The devil takes a pound of flesh on the way out.
Contamination from the unconscious can affect us. In the process of releasing something from the psyche, in my case an old aunt part of myself, morphing into a dead body, and being affected by the releasing in the process. The saying I like is that the devil takes a pound of flesh on the way out.The pain will stay until I see fully what is causing it and then ask for forgiveness and then let it go. The reason we are slow to consider this letting go is that it is scary and easy to deceive ourselves with whispers from the shadows. Burying the dead in sand near the pool is not good. I could sit on the pain firmly until I have used a lot of medication to numb myself or do a lot of exercises to waste my time away or expect others to heal me. Physician heal thyself are my associations.
A coffin image from an earlier dream
I hope this is helpful to you as you consider all parts of the dream as parts of your own psyche. I know my next dream will tell me more as I have put some time into the above dreams. I regularly work with dreams and have been doing this since I was in my late teens over forty years ago. Each dream is a new event and brings fresh considerations as I am on my spiritual path. If you would like such help with your dreams and your path let me know. I am excited to do this work and know it benefits both of us in this time of the need to throw ourselves into more light. The light is all about just waiting to be claimed out of our shadows. Let those dream images jump on your back. Hold them tight until they yield up their secrets. Love from Rose.
It is Advent, a time of renewal and it is Solstice, a time of change. It is the time of the return of the light. It is the time of the birth of the new. Our sun lines up with its great central sun giving us a great connection to our light and heat source. Many make a practice of praying and meditating in this time as they feel there is great power in these connections bringing about personal change.
Morning sun on the pine tree
I have always prayed. One of my first memories of prayer was of my father on the night before the cattle sale in Moate, Ireland. I knelt beneath my father, who was almost standing as he laid his knees against a soft armchair, his feet on the ground, his body facing the chair, the chair in the corner and with his brown beads in his roughened hands. We all joined in a “a decket of the rosary” devoted to his task of getting a good result when he brought some of his cattle to the mart. My mother initiated the prayers, and I, with a sincere love for him joined in, putting all my devotion into the asked for end of all his raising and nurturing of his cattle.
A friendly cow
He loaded up his trailer with four or five animals, which always was a fretful event to a child looking on. He used a stick and loud shouts to coarse the animals into the small space. My mother would be there, gesturing and cajoling the animals. They knew my parents as they had fed them with warm milk from buckets, twice a day, when they were babies. My father visited them in the fields, watching their progress as they ate the green grass, growing itself and growing them, as he counted them daily.
He built a special pen for loading the cattle into a trailer attached to his tractor. The ground was raised to meet the back of the trailer, which would be backed into this space. He would put some hay down to deceive them into thinking it was their usual shed they were entering. Slamming them in there was always a big relief. These lovely looking cattle were, hand raised, settled into their confinement quickly. Then he would be off on the road early, bouncing on the big wheels, to the Sales. He always came home from the sales, happy with his price and with a bag of toffee candy to divide among us.
My mother loved her farm
As a child I always prayed for my mother’s “Aunt Rosie and Uncle Pat” daily as they had died of TB. My mother had a list of those she prayed for and I now have my lists. After meditating, a time of silence, of contacting my source, I then surround with light those who are on my prayer list, who have asked for help. If they have not asked for prayer, then my intention is to light them up where they are and others will be able to notice them and bring them help, healing that they need. When my mother prayed for her grown son, who was ill in the hospital at the time, with no resolution in sight, she went into her church and I was beside her. I could hear her whispered pleadings. Her prayer was answered. The doctor was surprised at his complete recovery.
I often put someone firmly in the light, put the light into them or surround then with the light, without taking responsibility for any outcome. If a person asks me for prayers I can send them directly the light from the third eye, the pituitary, in the forehead. If that person is specific about what what they are dealing with then I can get on board, e.g. revising the book they are writing or resolution of something difficult in their lives. I often ask my chosen congregation to “lift up in the light” what it is I am concerned about. I feel they have a better way of doing this than me as I may be weighed down with my fears about the situation. I always felt helped in the wake of such requests.
Today at 11.30 am the sun is lined up with the earth and with its central sun and will start another tilt that starts us back toward the light of Spring and Summer. I was anxious today to be out for the rising sun and got out before eight o’clock. I wanted to feel for myself this lining up and these connections out into the vastness of time and space. As the sun splashed free of the house hiding it, it was a magnificent burst of light onto me as it became full round. In the silence I smiled and bathed in the fire of the sun on my front porch.
As I sat there listening to the sounds of the morning, the birds, the train, the clock striking eight, I was brought to the fact we are all suns in ourselves. Our chakras are our planets and we are affected by this central sun of ours in deep ways. Mentally it helps us with sleep, and healthy bones and with good moods. Inside our bodies are littler suns within our cells and on down, into smaller and smaller units. We are indeed in a great mystery garden, infinite and eternal.
The hawk sat in a tree waiting for the sun to come up also. Earlier I could see the sun glancing off his chest up there on the high branches. He chose to ignore the six crows making a threatening racket within feet of him. When I saw him spread his wings and fly away, he brought with him the rays of the sun, catching the underside of his body moving gracefully through the branches, and it was easy to see that he was using such energy to keep himself aloft and in charge of himself even in the midst of a murder of crows.
I hope you can feel affected by this changing of our tilt, and can feel the transformation, the new birth within. May you have a dream of the birth of a new baby, getting you into traveling mode for your own Bethlehem, where Angels sing to you and where you are bathed in a great light from such transformation. Be sure to sit in the vibration of that tilt and that light until you realize that you do have a part to play in tilting yourself solidly toward the light you carry in secret.
If you want to discuss such tilts and or dreams about them, then be sure to contact me, where I will be very happy to consider your dreams and your efforts toward becoming more full of light.
Happy traveling, Happy holidays, Happy Christmas.
Love from Rose.
Rose enjoying the winter sunshine in Hill and Dale Park, in Harrisonburg.
The bell used by my granduncle Father Bernie in the oratory at his parochial house when he said mass there. As children we rand this bell during the mass.
Mariah entertained a friend, Roisin Dearg, who was visiting from out-of-town. They had a fine time going around together for a few weeks. Mariah wanted her to tell dreams but she kept them to herself. She wanted Mariah to study the I Ching. They stayed in their friendship, walking, going to the river, playing games and eating some meals together.
At the end before her departure, Mariah left a note for her grumbling about this inability to see her to say goodbye properly and also said she appreciated her. Rosin Dearg then yelled at her and said Mariah was very petty and Roisin Dearg turned on her heel and left . Mariah got a fright as it was unexpected and had a feeling of leaving her body and could not sleep very well that night.
She had lots of words to say to herself and to her absent friend. She went into a number of prayers but found herself time and again as busy as an airport terminal, where the thoughts were checked for weapons and many things were confiscated. She prayed for help to understand why all this had happened.
Dream images by Rose
She had a dream of a number of children lined up against the wall and the one girl, was in the middle of them, with so much beautiful strawberry blonde hair, plaited down her back. The father was in front of them all lecturing them in a loud mean voice. She did not hear the words but felt how his words were hitting the wall and the group of children and one in particular. This central child left her body in spirit to avoid the onslaught.
After this dream Mariah could no longer hear the sound of the words of her friend as if they no longer were up close and personal with her. It was easier to go into silence toward morning and to feel peace come.
Meditation candle burning down and giving off a sweet glow in the half light.
She then slept late and spent the morning sitting in a warm sunshiny corner soaking up the sun, as the shortest day of the year approached. The place was quiet and the sun itself seemed to be the thing of beauty shining on everything warming her up through her many layers. A black-capped chickadee sang his little song from the nearby tree.
The cat stared balefully at Mariah. He was not friendly to her but choose another place in the sunshine nearby. For some reason that cat seemed to leave his body when he saw her too near him and often rushed away if she got into his space or made any noise.
She fancied the cat had a bad experience with others in the past and was taking no chances on trusting her, running away when she got too close to others.
The following morning Mariah decided to read the I Ching books a bit outside as the sun had come out warming the porch. The cat was snuggled up on a chair that blocked the wind. The cat jumped up in alarm as she pulled open the door but Mariah tiptoed on out and the cat gradually got lower and lower in the chair until he was not visible to her, sunk into sleep and cushions. Mariah was happy she had not alarmed him this time into running away. When she got to the I Ching there were a lot of words in there, as there was in the Bible she read earlier.
She sat back and wondered what her next move to understand better would be. Some of the words from the I Ching made her consider how her ego had become large in the whole affair above, and was swinging around in general in her life.
Helpers from the I Ching had her look at the dream again
Somewhere she got the idea to look again at the dream as applying only to herself, Mariah. She thought of how she was her father’s girl and identified so much with him. Her inner man, her Animus, was more than influenced by him, it was grown up by him, his attitudes and his opinions. Once again they will not serve her very well when she lets them be her rule of life. She would have to give birth to her father out of the side of her head, get rid of her half grumbling, half selfish self.
She was the one lecturing the young spirit of the feminine in her, goddess in herself, making her feminine side leave her body and letting him have his lectures, pinning her to the wall with attitude and grumbling opinions about what others should be doing, pushing her out of her body, high up, and not in touch with her heart.
She sat in her heart in silence for a while as she felt the shift inside from being in the left side of her brain into a balance with the right side. Now she could go on into the remainder of the day in a more balanced place. The end.
Rose got up a little early to see a stormy sunrise. She stayed in for a while as she got all those exercises done that were given to her by her Physical Therapist. The more she did them the better she felt. She also had huge resistance to doing them and sometimes days went by without doing them. She wondered if she was having animus opinions about healing herself further. She would end the writing with some silence, and hold her lapis lingas for a few minutes. She loved how its dark blue glistened in the sunshine.
And if you have a few dreams that you have been pinning to others and letting yourself off the hook, be sure to contact me and we will see if we can investigate the animus opinions which are always right and never helpful to us. I look forward to working with more of you. May Peace be with you. May you be able to sink beneath the level of the cold wind as we go through this winter. May the cold wind of the ego miss you completely. Love from Rose.
(I have a business license and a professional counselor licence and can be found as a listing of one of the Counselors in Harrisonburg in Psychology Today, where all my particulars can be perused.)
Mariah went her way toward the local town Mota Grainne Oige. She felt the need to get away from the view of the hedge and start on a long walk. She decided to visit with a friend and rest for the night there. She dreamt she was far away in a strange country looking at the writing on the wall of a great tomb of a great king. She was able to interpret some of the detail of the dream. It was about the heart having to be weighed, on weighing scales, after death. The heart on one side of the scales and a feather on the other side and if the heart was as light as a feather, flying out into the stars would be easy, heaven was assured. The writing on the wall with exact instruction on what to do to get back to heaven, to get the heart as light as a feather, became increasingly more difficult to read, and she ended up with little clue of the wisdom of that dream. Still she had something to go on and so when she woke up she resolved to look for the lightness of heart needed at the end of life. She had a little ways to go yet.
On her journey again she could think for herself about what made her heart light as a feather. When a baby made a little noise to get her attention and a smile crossed the baby’s face, when she caught those sparkling baby blue eyes, she knew she felt as light as a feather. A Quiddler game with her sisters, in which she threatened to enlist the help of the other players to beat up one sister, made her as light as a feather, as they all screamed with laughter. The full super moon coming over the horizon and the night sky full of stars was also marvelous at making her feel light. Being in nature and outside lightened her up too. The ocean and its ions also made her full of delight. Listening to a child singing with a group, out of tune, but totally yelling out the song, irrespective of the notes, also make her heart light with laughter and delight. The background music supplied by the other singers added to the delight as they went on their merry way of creating a joyful noise, melding the in tune and out of tune together. The un-programmed making its way into the programmed brought joy and beauty. Seeing into the meaning of a dream, also made her heart light. Her plants made her happy too, especially when they bloomed in the winter.
Other possibilities to make the heart light involved prayer and meditation, trying to get a leg up onto a higher dimension. She often felt full of smiles after a significant sit in the middle of the night or at dawn. She asked the angel of the air to fill the heart chakra with the air of life to lighten her up. The angel of the water of life could wash out all the heavy stuff, cleaning out the Aegean stables of the heart with one flood of this water. And the angel of the sun could enter and fill the heart with fire to burn up all the rubbish laid in there, setting the heart on fire with passion and love, leaving nothing in there but a stream of golden honey sweet love for all that came her way. Surely there was an angel of light too that could blind her to all that make her heart heavy and give her that light that made the heart light. She resolved to be more silent in the silence so that she could find that way toward the right way, where the truth of this love light, lightness and life resided in her. What made her heart heavy would be gone.
As she strolled toward the town she decided that when she went back home she would see what would make her heart light at home. Sometimes it was easy to be light in the heart in meeting the stranger or going on travel but she would have to see if making the heart light at home could be done, where no one knew all that goes on, not her mentors, or friends, where the intimacy of a combined life jostled their hearts loose and all that made the heart heavy and it might be found at their feet, and what made the heart light would be in their hearts.
She got some supplies in town and then visited with the druid Bernie who was willing to talk about the lightness of heart for hours. He finished up out in his garden, his hands all covered with the black turfmould earth, in which he was planting tulips of many colors. He said that if people could only know, if families could only see that love was the only thing of importance in all the land, benefiting their children’s children. A big tear ran down his cheek. He gave her a big hug and bid her a warm good by for the road promising to visit her another time.
She sat on the banks of the river for a rest. She was trying to hear what the rocks were saying about writing on the walls and the gossip of the river on its way. The River said, “We are one. I take the rocks into me and the rocks said we give ourselves up, getting smaller and smaller so we can be dissolved and go into the great ocean in specks.”
She thought she saw writing on the rocks and it said to take care to dissolve what is so hard and be less and less until she is more and more in the great River of Life. She had fallen asleep again and the writing was only in her dreams.
She felt the ending of the year coming around as she mulled over her dreams and her walkabout. Maybe someone would ramble into her house with a lovely story of other walkabouts and writing on walls and help explain everything to her. The sun was almost down now and the musicians would be getting ready to sing and play for the evening.
Maybe someone will sing a song about love and transport her into lightness. She looked forward to the evening. The end
When Rose got up today the snow was falling and three different things fell down, some plates, the shell on the fountain and something else. She thought it was a sign to get her writing finished about the writing on the wall. It fell into place and nothing else fell down.
Sushi, a dog Rose got to know and love this Fall.
And if you are interested in that part of your psyche that gives you dreams, those perfect pearls that are yours alone, input from your very own unconscious, then you can leave me a message. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Those dreams are your writing on the wall waiting for you willing attention to something that is the answer to what ever it is you need next to pay attention to, so that your heart can be as light as a feather, when you go through the pearly gates. Look forward to seeing you soon. Love from Rose.
Rose Longworth Counseling 