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A Sanctuary Moment. . . last bird sings . . .
A sanctuary moment. . . In looking back the words I hear in closing the front door are, be careful what you say. That was from the time I have memory forming words, being told in essence to stop talking . Even now, this late in the day I am told to stop and…
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TIME TO LISTEN . . . .
He was 4 years old and it was his third birthday party in two days. And I said did you have a good time with your cousin? She was not his cousin but someone he met waiting here to get born. Where was that I asked. Here he said in Etherall. When I penciled…
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From My Heart’s Pocket . . .
Word reaches that there are issues with some of my posts that are unreal; that perhaps I don’t know how the real world works! I write what I know, not hope or pretend. As Lawrence O’Donnell commented on President Biden’s Inaugural, experience is not taught. We always knew it, I think, just never applied…
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THE LAST BIRD SINGS. . . .
The Last Bird Sings. . . . A fact in nature changes as the person who perceives it. The maxim states ‘A fact is enhanced by what is perceived. Depends on who is looking and seeing and what they are seeing. One does not see what one is not looking for. The person who sees…
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Parent On Premises . . .
When my youngest was born and I realized I was the parent on premises, literately and figuratively, there were certain things in my belief systems that I knew and took possession of. I owned the knowledge and its consequences, not verbally expressed but were my walking companions. I wanted this knowledge to be part of…
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The Vault Of God. . . you know, my friend, you know. . .
‘How did you know to do it?’ he asked. I loved and raised babies and painted roses on their cheeks and planted evergreens in their hearts. Now you should put the sabers at the foot of the evergreens. The dove sings high, gargles her song at times, but you know my friend, you…
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A Quirk Of The Mind. . . . .
Because energy can no longer be summoned, memory comes to play as I flip pages of this very difficult lifetime of my history. Quickly I ensconce in a time the Teachers called a quirk of mind. It is my evolution’s restart and life’s rescue. It also makes a normal life impossibly hard. I think of…
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What We Feed Our Minds. . .
My Mentor said seeing you will not see and hearing you will not hear. I have long known that we are other than what we seem. When the veil was lifted for our middle son David and he saw what was his to see , he asked of me, how long have you been dodging…
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All Who I Am. . . with knees bent . .
I scribed October 10, 1983. . . We wait for this day. You hear the arguments in the head and you think all the while the hands do the mind’s bidding. In this we find a great interest and comfort knowing that it is possible to function in a secular life and continue to grow. …
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the twig already bent from a somewhere and . . . when. . .
How To Do It. . . .when I scribe. . . . You ask. . . On focusing, your thoughts, your words. . . how do you do it? I say. . . I barrel down into my center and listen with my inner ear and hear what…