The Equinox and my dream

I had to give my cats back to their owner and leave my friend’s garden. Today I took pictures of my inner plants.

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From my indoor gardens

The Vernal Equinox Prayer

May you make time in your light filled life for the inner light to grow, in you personally, secretly, lovingly, patiently, and that the beautiful blue sky reflect it back and that your beautiful heart is expanded, leaving you laughing and lightened.

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A little gold hanging about

 

The Vernal Equinox occurred at 6.o28 am this morning. Many people meditated at this time to set intentions, to be in the presence. That huge burst of energy, that comes with this shift in the cosmos, affects us. I felt that movement in myself at 2 am and again after 6 am this morning, as a flying backwards, when I meditated. This impetus is said to last for a couple of days. I fancied I felt it in my yoga class when I danced, I just had to dance backwards, do handstands and feel that pull into relaxation that felt like molasses. I hope you can find some way to take advantage of all that energy going around.

And now for the Dream of the murderer, promised for Sunday and not ready until Monday.

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I am going to work in a factory and I am introduced to the middle management person. He is a murderer. I say I will not work with him and three upper management people come to have a meeting to see if I can work there or not. Another man is sitting in my bed and has the same agenda, to get me working with the murderer.

The woman has a red area around her neck. The four men have my father’s coat on them, as do I.

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Detail of red at the throat chakra

The father’s coat represents something of him that came to United States with me in 1985. My father was dying of cancer at that time and the coat, my mother thought, was not needed. My father decided to go to Knock shrine to be cured, a few short weeks before he died, and his coat was not to be found on that morning of departure for the shrine. I was still in bed when my mother stormed into the room, to find the coat and realizing at the same time that she had sent it ahead to the States with my young husband. My father had to wear some old farmyard navy blue coat and I felt terrible. The belt of the old coat was missing, so that the coat had to be worn with a mismatching belt. Missing buttons had ripped some small holes in the front. He made a joke about it to ease the tension. It was a cool day in June when he went. I kept and even drew the coat for an art project at JMU. My old mentor, Rose Breda, said, “get rid of it” twenty years later. I am still wearing something that the coat represents in my dream.

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The blue bed

In my drawing, all of the management guys have some version of horns. I watched my father “sculling the calves,” by rubbing caustic soda into their horn roots, so they did not grow. My father had some complicated ropes involved in getting this done to hold the wild things in place, long enough to scrub out those developing horns. The heads were drippy for a while after the sculling. Prior to that I believe the horns were removed by sawing them off when the cattle were grown. A bucketful of horns and the feet of calves tied tight flashed in my mind.

There will have to be a meeting to wrest away power from the ego brokers and the henchman who would have me be owned of that energy of the beast of the ten horns. The man, who represents middle management in my dream, is the person in real life, who may be executed for arranging to have the mother of his child murdered many years ago.

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The rope has an end but no beginning. A tail perhaps?

Mr. murderer, that energy in me that is frankenstienish, with the square head, with no feelings of love, who kills the spirit, the feminine side, is showing itself.

The colors in the drawing are also informative. That off yellow is connected to male energy and the red to anger in me. Sitting in the blue bed brings in a cool headedness about how to deal with this unhelpful, ambivalent, negative patriarchal streak in me.

 The fifth chakra is associated with the Thyroid at the throat level. What the spiritual church of the throat area in us, Sardis, has to offer, is hidden under the altar and says, “How long oh Lord, holy and true do we have to hide under here” when the environment is too hostile for the light spirit of this chakra to show its neck, in real life. The peace of “Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in Heaven” is at this level of the fifth chakra. The standards of this church of Sardis, as I live my life, requires more intuition and adjustment into the right attitude to all I meet every day. That truth will make me free.

If you find that you have an inner fight on your hands and you have to deal with some old coats and a murderer, thorny thoughts, sculling and horns, call me or leave me a message under contact above and we can get to work with you and my DREAM LEAFLET to find a way to the right attitude and of course happiness.

Posted in Drawing the Dream, dreams, Father connection, Gold and lead, Interpretation, Mandala, meditation, Our Father and Healing, roselongworth.com, Watercolors, Yoga | 2 Comments

Water of Life

In meditation this morning in the cat’s Garden, the cat sneezed six times before running down to the font of water to drink. The other two cats followed him. Yesterday the font was frozen over but melting at the sides. The cats spent a long time licking the ice and getting little drops at the sides of the fountain. Two squirrels also visited that frozen font and sucked at the melting sides to get their share. One of them launched onto the ice to drink and skated backwards as he drank the ice water from around the edges. There were great reflections in the water of that font today. You can see parts of the willow tree, and a daffodil reflection, keeping its head up in spite of recent snow.

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The font where the cats and squirrels went to drink water

There is a beautiful bell in the cat’s garden, hanging by a chain. Its sound is beautiful and is surely a call to prayer. Lichen has taken up residence on it.

In the flow of meditation the image that came was of a golden bowl in my two hands that fit in my open palms set together to hold it. It filled with the bluest water. It was beautiful. It appeared that the leprechauns might have been making golden bowels after all and one of them ended up in my hands filled with that water of life.

I was in India and Nepal at the end of 2016. I had a great experience, especially with the water. Shortly after dawn, I did a little bathing in a river, fast flowing and cold, which came directly from the Himalayas. We visited the river after spending two hours meditating near the Monkey Temple in the predawn hours.

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In that river I baptized my own feet, hands, head and face and offered a baptism to one of my companions on the journey. Another time, also near dawn, I had an immersion in the Holy Bain River, in India, where Guru Nanak disappeared for three days.

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In the Bain River in India

After three days immersed in the river, he came back enlightened. I wanted to leg go and float away from my group and be enlightened but they watched me well and pulled me back in to the bank with their beautiful chanting. Now I have to try and find enlightenment in a small bowl of water in the cat’s garden. From lead into gold, and from water into water of life.

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This fountain is not what is seams. It has many dimensions

I have blogged a big dream. I am keeping it for tomorrow, Sunday, when I hope you will be in a prayerful state and stay with its many paths until the end.

If you want to do some changing of lead into gold yourself, make sure and bring me your dreams. I will be waiting for you and you and you. See contact above. It can be done by e-mail, skipe, mail or phone. I look forward to working with you. Leave me a message. I know you are dreaming.

Posted in Gold and lead, meditation, Picture from India, Pictures from NEPAL, roselongworth.com, Uncategorized | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Laughter in the dreams

A short dream to grace St Patrick’s Day. May all your fine Irish ancestors dance you around in a fine Irish Jig. You may think the dream that follows was an actual happening but it absolutely has no basis in fact.

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Dream number 1.

“You got out of bed and did not make your side of the bed,” I say, as I pull on the covers. I continue, “Leaving it all to me.” We are speaking in thick “Irish brogues.” I went looking for that light white blanket between the sheet and the duvet and find it all balled up at the foot of the bed. I say, “I see that those legs of yours, with the big calf muscles have kicked down…” He talks over what I am saying and says, “Those same legs are years younger than yours. Yours should be in a museum.” He is standing in the half dark, half dressed, as he adjust his tie in the mirror, his shiny white small pants and white legs shine in the dark. He adds he is a busy man and no time for bed making as he is doing important work. I say, “doing nothing except…” He says, “Getting no respect, I am going to down tools.”

As I wake up I realize I just had the above dream and I hear the front door bang. He has pulled up his side of the bed and I just have to get out without disturbing it all. The queen bee exits the queen sized bed, ready for the day and honey dreams on her hands.I place Terra’s scarf on the bed center to keep me centered in bed.

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Scarf given to me by Terra Glick. She sells antique clothes. I will ask her about antique legs.

The Dream with laughter – Dream 2

I dreamed last night I was starting a dream group. One guy, young, dark haired, maybe Indian, says, ” Where is the potluck?” I go up to his face and say,  “We are here to get the “Panis Angelicus”(Translation from latin is ‘bread of angels.’) and  we both laughs a lot. In the group, people are seated in a circle and at tables, that circle around, see picture below. I ask people for dreams and know I am doing to use intuition to choose the one that will be more helpful to everyone.

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Dream group room

I was encouraged to get the above dream and in the morning I felt I knew how to use my DREAM LEAFLET in combination with groups and other ways as well.

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The drawing above has five empty circles above their heads and the laughing people are looking up into them. Perhaps those circles are the angel bread I have been looking for.

Meditation

In the night I pledged to be singleminded and silent in my efforts, to consecrate myself and to concentrate. I promptly fell asleep and had above  dream about the group.

This morning I meditated on the cat’s front porch, with the help of blankets. It was a cold morning but still I love the outdoors.

I kept my eyes open a slit and looked down my nose. The blue hat sometimes seemed to move while I was doing that, the snow going one way and the hat another. The time went slowly at first and then it was suddenly over.

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If you are interested in working on your dreams, leave a message on this site under contact me. I will be happy to help you with getting started with my DREAM LEAFLET.

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Posted in Bedroom, Drawing the Dream, dreams, Interpretation, laughter, Mandala, meditation, roselongworth.com, Uncategorized, Watercolors | Tagged | 6 Comments

Of the Cats and Third Eyes

About the cats and the weather. The spring garden has a different look this morning, equally beautiful. The emotions it raises in me raises my vibrations.

Tiger is stressed about the snow. It may be the first time he had to deal with it. He keeps sticking out his back legs, in turn, to shake the snow off of his paws. Each leg is shook, three sudden jerks, without doing much to dislodge the snow. Then he goes under a big chair, where the snow is light and eats his fare. Then he starts using both his front paws, as if he is making a hole to do some serious business. He is on the deck. He ignores my call. Then he realizes he is on the deck and hastily goes to his private privy, wherever it is. I was relieved!

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The New York Cat who sat on the dinner table always.

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A dream cat – who knows what he sat on?

Tiger walks on the top of the fence later and is jumping around. Then he does a tiger act of pouncing on the snow as if there is something there, like a mouse underneath. He is so playful and living up to his Tiger name when he does this. The other two cats are cool.

The Third Eye and the Dream. 

What follows links a dream to the seventh chakra, as well as to my efforts to connect to myself spiritually through meditation.

I dreamed last night about Ireland’s eye. It is a small island off the East coast of Ireland across from Howth, a place I lived in late 1970’s, about 14 miles north of Dublin. I visited this uninhabited beautiful island by boat once. In my dream I met a man who seemed to be into visiting this place and other islands also. Then a woman, grey looking, doubtful stance, shows up, not wanting to go to the Island at all. She had a bigger claim on him than I. I had just met him.

I link the above dream to the Third Eye, just because the Eye word is in the dream.In dreams associations can be helpful. The Pituitary is the seventh chakra. It is the third eye spot between the eyebrows. Our Christian bible tells us that if your eye be single, your whole body is filled with light. “Buy gold tried in the fire” at this Church of Laodicea, a place of power in our brains. “Don’t you know your are blind and naked and poor. You are neither hot nor cold. I wish you were hot or cold.”

The depressed and doubtful is the part of me that is fearful of the water (unconscious), of going to this Eye (Third Eye.) I have to appreciate that a part of me is reluctant to investigate this eye in me, or to bring me to heel, and be silent in every sense of the word in meditation. To see what I need to do to get some gold, to have beautiful raiment. I have to take a different approach. Does what I am thinking and doing and saying stand up to the spiritual fire, to get the trip out to the Eye. I under the influence of the heavy gray woman, afraid of a journey over water.

I spent over an hour in the cats’ garden meditating. I stared at the willow tree listening to the sap, wondering if it would rise or stay low for now. Such complexity in the one tree. Then there is the complexity of our bodies, with or without chakras. And throw in outer space as well. I was happy to sit for the 65 minutes, one for every year of my life. I blogged in my head but left it down after a while going for the feeling I got when I went into staring into space, hearing and seeing without hearing and seeing, letting my eyes be out of focus.

You could say I was all over the place. I was doing that very thing that caused the fall in the first place, throwing myself into everything.

I do meditation, to say to God, help me, bring me closer, and let me find the heaven within, stumble onto the island, over the blue water, so in love with that water. From the frozen into the rising sap every day. The try is counted for righteousness. I will try again.

Posted in beautiful spring garden, Cats, Drawing the Dream, dreams, Mandalas, meditation, roselongworth.com, Snow, Watercolors | 2 Comments

Traveller

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A nine month journey toward new birth.

 

The traveller is sitting on a camel in a tight knit caravan. They are on a very long journey from the East. The toes of the camel come into view for a second as he lopes along in a fine rhythm. The camel like the traveller is old.

They are on well-worn dusty roads but each crossroads has to be discussed before going on. The sky is consulted, the landscape and intuition. Sometimes a few steps in the wrong direction are all that is needed to realize it is the wrong way.

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Know where you are going.

Traveling by night is usual to care for the camels and the travelers. There is some overlap with the light of day. Watering holes have to be sure. Wealth has to be protected. Food procured, cooks and fire builders are there.

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The sky over all.

This group is on a mission and the traveller is the holder of the heart light for them all. They all know and feel this also. They carry the gold, frankincense and myrrh. The traveller holds up a hand with a star shining in it, bringing them east to the birth of the new. The star in the sky appears to them encouraging them onwards. They are late for the actual birth, but their feelings of love, being in tune with the birth, raises their spirits so much, that the sky opens to a pale blue over the shepherds in the fields at night and they both, shepherds and caravan, hear the heavenly hosts singing and shepherds visit the stable in their stead.

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The stable

When the travelers arrive, the presence of the child pulls them out of themselves into infinite spirit, and they know they were right all along to follow the star, to be there for this birth.

They give their precious gifts that enable the family to travel to Egypt immediately, to avoid a dark death.

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The star

 

May I, May you, May all follow your own star, be prepared to travel into whatever deserts need to be crossed. May I, May you, May all lay down the ordinary wants of the day and follow that longing, that desire, until your blue sky opens and you hear divine music, make divine music and singing and see with new eyes, hearing with new ears. Follow your hearts desire.

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Angels singing

 

May you wake up with the words of the Magnificat on your lips.“My soul doth magnify the Lord. My Spirit has found joy in God, My Savior, for he has done greats things to me and holy is his name.”

 

Posted in dreams, Mandalas, new birth, roselongworth.com, Traveling and Dreams, Uncategorized | Tagged | Leave a comment

Herding Cats and Dreams

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Dreams are a mirror.

On my way to feed the three cats, I go through the back alley and am stopped by the beauty of the light and the flowers and that lane off into the distance.

I feel I need to do some counseling with the cats. Tiger is the male cat and not yet a year old. He has a fascination for the oldest female. Prior to ever putting the food out to them she growls at him for getting between her and the door, where the food comes out to them.

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The cat and her shadow

So I place the food at the three corners of the deck. Tiger leaves his unfinished and comes to the oldest female. I have to point at him and say, “ah ah” and he will stop for a few second and then have another go. If I leave the scene, there will be a crime. If I stay there the oldest cat will eat everything in her bowl. She is used to having Tiger yelled at and does not even pause from her eating while this is going on. Staying calm in the face of the one who wants to steal from her, seems to be a good way to dine for her.

When the treats have been doled out and I am again on the front porch, I am lured into the rocking chair and the blue waiting for me.  I hold the hat up high and my eyes relax in the shade and my body relaxes in the heat of the sunshine.

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I watch the beautiful willow tree in the yard as it’s moving fronds, greening out, pull my attention again and again.

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The back to front dream

I remember the image of the mechanical doll that came to me in my imagination yesterday.Then last night’s dream comes back to me. I am with others and I take off my outer shirt, as I am too warm. Someone has to tell me to look down and I have my swimsuit on back to front and I am exposed.

My dream is telling me I have things back to front again. Within relationship there is love and only love to be streamed out and I have become the mechanical doll again and going about things without the intention to be in love with it all.

 

Setting my intention to having a loving relationships will be helpful. Talking to the mechanical in me will also help. Meditation to stream in the love and drawing to hi-light what is in shadow will all add up. Inner work is the key.

Other beautiful images from the cats’ garden.

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Natural garden mandala above

Other images from the cats’ garden above.

I was delighted to get this dream and this insight. Herding dreams into some kind of redemption for me can be like herding the cats but they always benefit from a little counseling and from a slowing down in a rocking chair in the sun and being in the beauty of the spring garden. Contact me for a session. Special rates for March apply.

The above photos were taken this morning by Rose.

 

Posted in beautiful spring garden, Cats, dreams, roselongworth.com | 1 Comment

Farmer’s Market in Harrisonburg.

There are wonderful people selling their wares at the market and I have gotten to know many of them over the years.

There is the magic weaver of quilts and cashmere lined gloves and footwear and the maker of tea cozies to lift the spirits high into the air. Her colors set the right tone for a place of community, as she invites us in to sit and chat a moment, surrounded by her tent of quilts and baskets full of her magic wares.

There are the makers of coffee and suppliers of milk products, to fill us with what we need right from farmers that are pure mostly.

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Ice cream and cups of coffee and gluten free and a turtle, oh my.

The grower of carrots gets a special mention. I like his carrots so much I threaten him if they sell out before my late arrival to the market. Sometimes he has gladiolae to remind us of soul work and his lamb bones are a pleasure to suck on. I forget myself and call him the bonesman sometimes.

Blessed are the bread makers, for theirs is the kingdom of the rising yeast and the little “leaveneth” the whole market. Imagine “chocolatini” in bread “toujours.” Their wares waft us into the market regardless of the weather.

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Sometimes a bird will visit the drummer and banjo players at the market.

Chestnuts from high in trees, that have brought such shiny surfaces, on to this earth, are there for the taking. Like us they leave their pods for a good grinding before they make their way into delicious cakes with lemon and with chocolate. Lovely with sipped hot tea or the family gathering. Once I brought one chocolate cake to a party and it was disregarded due to its decadence. We were a crowd of puritan sugar haters then. I heard that next morning the most strict among us had it all for breakfast. May the chestnut trees come back in force.

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Riding my bike to the market.

The greens in many bags beckon us into good green heart health and we fill our baskets knowing they are pure.

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Those pots are all filled with honey.

I almost forgot the honey people. My love of honey is way bigger than I am. I always like to have bottled honey and sometimes comb honey at my house. I have to put the honey deep into some hidden shelf so that I do not tarry to eat it every time I see it.The honey man with the English accent had bee’s wax candles that burned for sixty hours. That equaled two hours a day of meditation for a month. Once he gave me a pot of honey that he had bottled the day before and the honey had a fine misting of pollen on top that went down a quarter inch into that yellow color at the top. It still felt warm from the hive. After that, I felt that I had a better understanding of the Spanish poet, Neruda, who wrote about his dream of honeybees making sweet honey in his chest. That giving gesture brings a great sweetness with it.

I will finish up with a little story about an early visit to the market. I was in a great rush as I had another appointment out of town. It was before opening time and I was bent on getting those fresh greens. In response to my abrasive demands for service before opening, the vendor pulled out a used plastic bag and shook it out not once but thrice before placing my produce in it. My undivided attention was on that empty bag, as I was forced to slow down. I still think of that moment and laugh seeing myself as that “empty bag”in a great rush.

May all the people of the market, mentioned and not mentioned, who grace our market with their wares, and create community for us, be blessed with a community unity that brings riches to all of all sorts.

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I pay for my produce but sometimes I get to steal dreams about flying dish from these marvelous people.

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Music makers throwing around some notes

Original art work by Rose. I was at a wonderful showing of art by Shanna Fliegel at Larkin Arts on Friday. Annabeth McNamara was the featured singer. The artwork was inspiring, and the singing divine. Some of the artwork featured here was sketched then under the umbrella of that art and that music.

Posted in Drawing the Dream, Heart Chakra, meditation, On the Farm, roselongworth.com, Uncategorized, Watercolors | 6 Comments

Flying Fish in the Market

Dream of Flying Fish in the Market

I heard a dream of the flying fish, most marvelous dream. To get the fish back into a tank, inside the closed and padlocked doors is the goal. Forget it friend. Come out yourself. Peal away that paint. Flay yourself of the white and sticky fears and join the fish flying.

And what of Rose’s dream.

She is being visited by her complaining self, with a book of fifty pages on her head. The side of me that has promised not to complain for three weeks in word, thought or mood is poking her in the ribs. Maybe I can dislodge that book of complaints, with the help of mantra and prayer and meditation. It connects in with my intention.

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She wears it well

Posted in Drawing the Dream, meditation, roselongworth.com, Watercolors | Tagged | Leave a comment

About My Father’s Business

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I have a memory of being with my father in the morning, when he went down to the sheds, to use the tractor. I followed him to be near him. My head was a bundle of fuzzy curls on top, as I examined a piece of hay in my hand. I stood between the big back wheel and the smaller front wheel of the tractor, in a little plaid dress with a white collar. When he turned on the engine, the loud noise and that lovely smell were all around me.

I wriggled out of my father’s arms, when he carried me down the stair, as an infant. I landed on my right side, shoulder hitting first, and had a concussion, where my head hit the stairs, as I continued to fall down the wooden steps. My mother and her mother nursed me back, without consulting anyone. I did not hear this story directly from my mother. When I asked her, she walked away with a pained grimace, shaking her head.

I was home, waiting for my visa to come through, so I could join my husband in the states, when my father was dying of cancer. In the small back bedroom, mostly filled with double bed, heater, wardrobe, dresser and fireplace, I would place a chair and sit and read to him. I read my favorite passages from the Bible to him. When I got to 30 minutes, he said “that is enough.” I told him then that he was a wonderful father and thanked him. He told me that he was not always a good father.

He went upstairs to get me from the Moses Basket, a basket placed up high on a shelf, when I was a crying infant. He took me out of the basket to change me. As he did so, he was overwhelmed with his own feelings and in the process caused me to scream. He came back to himself and cleaned me up. My fall was a symbol of my rejection of a behavior that hurt me, reorienting him in the process.

While he was still active, yet diagnosed with cancer his thumb hurt him. I was sure I could be helpful with his thumb pain. It was swollen and colored yellow from the iodine he had painted onto it. I steeped his hand in melted Epsom salts and hot water and then massaged his thumb for a half hour more or less. He complained it did not help at all. I so wanted to be a miracle worker for his hand and for his cancer.

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My father’s hand

This is some of what has to be laid out and down with the masks of the father. Otherwise the heart is full of discarded rags and bones, which holds my pain. When I want to tend to the roots of the tree of life in me, in my first chakra, these weeds, these pains of life have to be lifted and taken out of the matter in my body so that the energies of the first chakra can make its way through me to my heart and upwards.

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I loved my sweet father dearly, followed him around, whenever I could, out into farmland, on the back of the tractor, holding on to the big wheel guards with my sister, bumping along, making hay, thinning carrots and playing in the farm’s nooks and crannies, while he worked nearby. There were hedges with primroses, big pale yellow disks, streams with bridges and a one-foot waterfall, a sandpit where the snowdrops grew, a railway line with small wild strawberries and bowls of cream from the cows he milked each morning and evening.

These remembrances are pieced together from history and from psychic glimpses of what happened. It would be easy to say none of it is true or all of it is true. I still love that man and appreciate his love and connection to me. May both of us feel the better of my remembrances and may my soul be satisfied with this inner work of lifting and taking out. May all recover from the times their parents forgot themselves, may I recover myself from the times I forgot myself. May I be touched in the here and now, with the sacredness of the sacrum, so that the burning candle of the tree of life is free to rise in me. May he rest in peace, free to be.img_4427

If you have any desire to go inward and work with your dreams and images, contact me under the contact tab and I would love to work with you to help release trauma from your particular live. Thank you for being with me in this blog.

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Posted in dreams, Forgiveness, Mandalas, On the Farm, roselongworth.com, trauma, Uncategorized, Watercolors | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Mandalas

The mandala above,created after the vortex dream, is showing me my unconscious and these lines and circles are an effort to put order on my chaos. I was talking to a friend, while I drew. I like it when my conscious is busy, when drawing a mandala, as it takes away the desire to create with judgment, with desires for the mandala. Mandalas are soul work.

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I named the Mandala of the coffin above for my father. I may be in the process of burying that entire mask in me belonging to my father. There is the mask and the reflection of the mask, fallen down and ready for a funeral and a later burial. Buriels are always preceded by reflection on the life of person being buried. It is usual to review all we know about the subject for burial and then I learn more about myself .  As the green of the heart opens, some memories will come to me relating to my relationship with him, when I escape into my right brain in meditation. Finally is that the red cardinal on the roof escaping? Am I going up to the roof and the sky to get a better view of the truth?

 

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The third mandala above was created this morning and I created it mostly without my left-brain present. Closed my eyes, used my non-dominant hand and spun the paper around. Then I referenced the center of my brain instead of the paper. I also picked the colors to use with my eyes closed initially. After I opened my eyes I knew where to place color and shape, using what was before me. I like to think this drawing came to me as a result of deciding to not think any negative thoughts for three weeks as an experiment. I already feel much lighter. It also brought back to me, what I had forgotten, let fall into a long ways away from me, that love needs to be in the center of things, positivity.

The free yoga class at The Center here in Harrisonburg was cancelled at noon. I missed those strong workouts today. So I filled some of the time collecting a random dream, which always makes me happy. The dream of someone who was at pains to point out that she was not like the person she dreamed about. She tried to get a lovely silver colored dress from a female relative she admires. We both laughed when I said she would have to be nicer to her co-worker if you wants to waltz around in that beautiful dress. She did not believe in dreams or their ability to tell us how to take ourselves on and change and improve those elements of us, that deny our own bitchiness, and only see it in the other. Deep down she wants the dress. Deep down that lovely person is her, showing her what is possible to get for herself. A silver dress the color of the silver moon.

Contact me if you want to focus on dreams and mandalas. See below for contact information.

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Riding my bike, out and about, inside and writing this day.

Posted in dreams, Interpretation, Mandala, Mandala interpretation, meditation, roselongworth.com, Yoga | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments