Put the sabers
at the foot of the evergreen.
The dove sings high;
gargles her song at times
but she knows,
she knows. . .
Peace
-
We Keep the World for Them . . .
-
Some Things We Need To Hear Again. . . . .
Do I have more minutes to finish? There was no time for answers because the little one with a dash was out of sight. In a few minutes he was back and announced, I finish. Having learned to wait while private things were finished, I waited again while he proceeded to his room.
I followed him shortly to find him in pajamas and ready to crawl into the high bed. Well, should it be a story to tell or a story to read I asked. I am ready for you to choose. Tell me what it is we should do to get you ready for sleep? And I waited. Minutes ticked away while the choice was being made. Patiently, again, what will it be?
His face took on a faraway look as if searching for a memory. I recognized the look and wondered where he would go for that memory to take shape. I knew it well. It was a look that had been on my face many times with voices telling me to stop dreaming. I needed to pay attention to what was at hand and not waste so much time dreaming. So because of those reprimanding voices, I knew to wait.
He asked if I would sing the one I singed when I singed with other voices. He knowed that song!
What song is that? I wondered. There was no time for me to sing with other voices that he would have heard. Like this, he said and in his high soprano he sang his Gllloooooooooorrrrrrriiiiiiiiiaaaaaaaa and I knew. Unbelievably I knew. The music hung on his tongue and in his throat as if he were tasting a delicate sweet.
When did you ever hear me sing that? I asked. Before I come to you, he said. Before I come. I heard you singed and my heart singed with you. I knowed I could tell you some time if I just ‘membered it. I promised I would ‘member so I could hear it again and again. I knowed that you would ‘member if I singed it. And you do! he said, you do!
And I believed him because I gave up choir when he was due to be born. I took this child into my arms and sang the song he so wondrously remembered. And when I came to the part he remembered his voice faithfully shadowed mine. And another posit was added to the Memory Bank but who would believe it? Who?????? Except the many someones who entered their place of belief every time they bent their knees.
Those are the who. . . . . .
-
Peace. . . .
Many times for many, the comment is forget the past, the moment is all. Some even say too much time is spent in the past but rising thought is not enough is given to understanding the why of it and to rectify behavior which we have dressed cunningly in costumes for battle.
To protect the innocent in our midst from the burden of our unsolved issues is reason enough to pursue the past to its resolution. The weight of our unsolved wars can be devastating enough to stop the hearts in the ones who love us.
The average person thinks that today is born immaculate without the impact of yesterday. If one does not understand its lessons, today is sterile and we go blind into tomorrow as one with no memory who approaches members of family as strangers. The greeting would be good day and where are you from? From your yesterday sir/madam, from your yesterday.
We should gift ourselves with the only gift worth giving. It is to promise to give time to quicksand parts of us we close off. With gained courage we strengthen ourselves and find we even like and can forgive who WE are. And also find we don’t need to camouflage ourselves anymore. It may take a lifetime or two, but we are beings of second chances but who is counting?
No Yesterday . . .We don’t even have a yesterday
when we forget the past.And no use looking for a tomorrow
because today does not happen.
It takes a yesterday to make
a Now today.We can costume our yesterday
and dress it up to be fashionable.
And then possibly you think,
we can walk together.But I think the proper thing to do,
if not courageous, would be
to stare down yesterday and
suck the fear out of it.Then perhaps we’ll have a today
as bed for tomorrow.
That assures a future only. . .If you are okay with that?
-
A Midnight Adventure. . .
The noise started at 12:20 a.m. with a whirring. And it rumbled through the concrete floors and affected my heart rhythm. I fibrillated and became concerned. It started when I was readying for bed and when I settled in bed and was comfortably placed, I tensed and the bed shivered.It was with a vibration that affected my body’s whole system. It was as if my blood flow reversed itself and had no idea what to do. I then played musical beds. I went to my sitting room and sat. And then to the sofa. Uncomfortable there. Then went into the main living room and even Leroy looked askance. I tried all the chairs. Nothing worked.
I went back to bed twice and thought I settled but was so uncomfortable I got up. Wobbly on legs unanchored I tried calling my son upstairs. The call went to voicemail and I knew he was asleep.
I ended up in my chair again in the sitting room and with a pillow and throw, and new bottle of nitros because the older bottle had no bite, I decided to wait for my heart to stop. But over an hour had passed and I dozed.
The vibrations were softening and breathing became lighter and I thought, oh great I am on my way out. It was 2 a.m. and then it was 2:50 a.m. I lumbered to bed and went out like a light.
Awake at 7 a.m. son John said hi ma and I related my adventure in detail. We went to my wing and checked every conceivable thing that could be turned on. It truly felt like some heavy crane had idled outside the window.
When he came in from chores and said he talked to the water softener agent and she said considering the generator is attached to the side of the house and with our usage, the generator would operate every 3 or 4 days, at night. I had spoken of this noise before.
With no basement, the generator sounds noisy at night with vibrations resonating through the concrete base.
We have always had water softened but in a house with a basement where I manually softened the water. Because the setup is different here, the effect is different.
Having written of being bodily wired in Earth’s gravity like a violin and a kalaidoscopic perspective, I am grateful son John took the time to unravel this conundrum. Sounds and emotions have rampaged my physical frame to leave me awash for almost a hundred years.
But I plan to stay till my name is called because no other world I love so much.
-
Pieces Of My Heart. . . .for Emma E. . . .
I have not posted this past week because of some impediment in my desk computer, but thanks to my grandson who found the wrong and corrected it. I am grateful. I felt I had lost my voice.
But what I did was work to get some knitting done and the articles will be on their way. It will free up time for other things to get done and prepare for a visit from my first born and his illustrator wife Claudia. Both Tres and Claudia are generous with help for this blog.
The knitting this week had me sweaty because of health issues arising again due to hand spasms. Aging is a factor when hands lose feeling and become numb. Yarn is hard to handle and keeps slipping off the needles. And when the articles are small and require 4 double pointed needles, hell breaks loose. I think I forced other parts of my brain to work when synapses broke. Sweaty business.
But I wanted to master the spiral pattern and did. I hope now I can do it on a number of things simply by changing yarn thickness and needle size. It is amazing to me carrying this idea to a larger concept, that all things are connected in these universes. These are the talents mastered that my Mentor, the Nazarene spoke of that we should multiply. That are in Mind where moth and rust do not destroy.
I see the connection in all things. That all things are utilized and nothing is lost or forgotten. Simply, all things thought through, are connected. It is a concept that takes us to our knees because there is no place else to go.
I am pleased with the outcome of the spiral knitting and took photos. The other photos are colorful and were just plain fun to do. It was an addiction of sorts that the only overdose with the substance did not require me to take care with heavy machinery or driving!
I was not required to seek medical help as often with overdoses is suggested. I guess I am no fun at all.
spiral pattern
-
Sufficient Unto Itself . . .is the day. . .
Big guy, our Newfie, came in to get me up this morning. It was early but I said give me five. Which means I need more time. He left me to take guard outside my room until I said let’s go. I grabbed a throw since it was dark and cold. And prepared for time while he had a long drink.
The sky was red and Sailor, I thought ‘red sky in the morning take warning.’ Followed by ‘red sky at night, Sailor’s delight.’ It was a melding for me, a uniting with All That Is. And whispering to me were the words, ‘Sufficient unto itself, is the day, thereof.’
I am able to hold conference with my constituents easily. But I would have difficulty explaining how I get there and you would have difficulty believing me, except you have my words in front of you. I tell you true within the frame of reference that is mine and though criticism comes with my alibiing everyone else, I have not done so with myself. I have loved my Earth, unabashedly and am in conference with my Teachers. (I had previously posted. . .excerpt. . .)
And when we left the city to breathe clean air I marveled as a young girl going to the outdoor privy and stopped at the back door before going up to bed and dipped my heart to blend the night sky to drink of a million stars and wondered how rich could a 12 year old be with the night so private housing so many brothers? And the air circled my pajama legs and I gave thanks to the clean air and promised to be a caretaker of a place I loved. I would dip into my bucket of stars and reach for a nugget and it would translate my efforts and keep me fed.
I would teach everyone to take care of our land because it is our home and we live here. It gives us what we need to live and heals us when we ail and loves us as its children. It is our mother and we must help her. And now after a lifetime, I am hampered by bones forgetting to bend, muscles forgetting to stretch and a heart that cannot forget how I have loved this parcel of a universe so generous with this gift.
How Much Better It Would Be. . .
How much better it would be
for this noble planet
if we cherished her like a lover?Or loved her as a mother
who adored her child and
wiped the tears away with a soft linen?
Or as a father whose arms surrounding the child
are as steel beams supporting
the frame of the tallest building?Who would not want these for himself
if he could articulate what would heal
the dichotomy within?Too few of us around
who love our home so fiercely
we would protect her vital organs.
The sun sometimes is hidden from man
and the moon embarrassed
to see its light dimmed with shame.When patches of earth split
from the shock of no rain and dust rises
and rolls across open land,
we wish then not to shake dust
from our boots but to greet a sunrise in splendor.Offer me this, the Earth Mother says,
that you will raise your arms
only to surround an Other in love.
Promise me this, again she says,
that the swords will be laid at the foot
of the evergreens, now and a boot will never
crush an Other’s right to live.And I will forever cherish your children.
photo by
John Hallissey -
The Birthday Girl. . . and a happy two!
Two years ago we had word that Emma E. came to us at 1 lb 12 oz. Over 30 years ago we had similar word of her father coming early too at a similar weight. We have gone to our knees many times in these years begging for the best in all worlds. And we have been blessed in all worlds.
With great gratitude celebration was held as Emma E. had her 2nd birthday. It was appropriate that Thanksgiving was celebrated also. She busies herself with her favorite books and talks a blue streak reciting her nursery rhymes.
What we miss in hugs we get to smile at her impish grin in photos. With an appreciative audience she performs for laughs. And in that laughter we have heard angels.
We would wish all children to have such welcoming and we work in what ways we can.
-
How High Up You Reach. . . .
What is hidden will surface and cannot be forever controlled.
*****
Manipulation is the black boot sitting on the head.
*****
A broader view is the fullness of a larger life.
*****
How to teach Within is the treasure and without the Within there is no Without.
*****
Trying to stay sane in an insane world is not easy. Especially when you see what you see is a curse and a blessing.
*****
Old beliefs are a security blanket. But already they become bare when the nap has been plucked from them. It is then time for new thought to cover old butts.
*****
It is not the common lot of man to pursue learning what he only glimpses. The extraordinary man who persists is the one the heavens pursue.
*****
Given enough rope every man will hang himself. They will also pull themselves up the mountain.
*****
Race the night to its completion for the morning will arrive and demand something from you.
*****
How high up you reach is how high up you jump.
-
Enter Ye, Cautiously. . . .
Enter Ye, Cautiously. . .
‘May I enter your house?’ I asked
and you answered, ‘yes, but cautiously.
You must discard all pretense, assume the mantle
of charity and hold high the torch of love.’‘Ahhh,’ I said, ‘but would I qualify?
‘This house I see has a green carpet
with blue ceiling, mystically supporting
poufs of cotton, shadowing and lined with sparklers.
It has spheres of light masking the dark outlines
of animation, movement in forms
different than my own.’‘I have lived in this house and participated
in celebrations of great sorrows, have laughed in truth
and wept with joy. I have danced in funerals
and in great succession marched words through
battles of mind and spirit.’‘I have accused myself and have hung by fingertips
grown numb and identified the faults of Others
only because I identified my own.
I loved and continued to love in the face of contradictions
because I did not know what else to do.
There is nothing left now, so I ask,
may I enter your house?’‘What have you described?’ you chide as I stand astonished.
What else is there I wonder and
what is to be exchanged.‘I hang a star,’ you say, ‘midst the night sky,
and in the quality of your God you will build
your world. It will not be mine but yours.
And when you leave the spot holding you hostage,
you will take your world and those becoming to it will enter.
But entering also will be the dark angels,
but with premises swept clean,
they will delay littering. But once established
the land will become familiar and they again litter
and your sights will be pinned on Me.’‘And I will hear you ask again,
may I enter? And I will say, all ye who enter here,
discard pretense, assume the mantle of charity and
hold high the torch of love.’‘I see,’ I said
‘and then the Father’s House will be swept clean.’ -
Wandering The Galaxies. . . again. .
(This morning November 19, 2019, I read that Bill Gates has unveiled a solar energy project aimed at saving the planet. I am excited about this and am rerunning a post from October 28, 2017 about my dream with solar trees I saw and drew from a dream and entered in my journal September, 1991. I rest with hope now about my planet classroom.
Wandering The Galaxies. . .(posted first October 28, 2017)
Again, I am here with pictures, primitive to be sure, that I drew of what I encountered in the dream world written on September 9, 1991. Previously I had shown the pictures I had drawn of the gentle fishes in the post on this blog called Worlds I know. . .to speak of. . . which was on September 3, 2017. I wrote then that as I continued working on cross referencing my journals with other work which corroborates them, I would share the pictures and the journals.
I came across the notes I had taken when rereading the journals of the pictures you see here. I knew I had the sketches and showed them to my son John. He said I was ahead of my time. This week we activated solar panels on our home after much protocol. There obviously are worlds where other forms of energy are utilized to a greater extent. I share a part of the journal of that date. While I was not fully awake and the dream was fresh, I drew the sketches you see. My input to the dialogue taking place was
from the journal entry. . .(The energy on the mountain. What I thought were trees in the vision, shaped like trees, were not were they? They somehow brought in energy to run houses without chimneys. And from those strange shaped trees I thought on the mountain. From a distance I thought them trees, but they were energy sources, weren’t they? I wish there were credentials to back me up, but then I wouldn’t have taken this seriously but just a powerful play . )
I could not have envisioned this on my own nor have thought one day to be living here in California where solar panels would be installed to offset the high cost of electricity. But almost 30 years ago I had sketched other worlds where gentle fishes and houses without chimneys were evidenced. I had heard Rachel Carson’s worries for this planet.
I told my sons I needed a Hazmat suit when I entered my workroom. The emotional vibes are hard on this aged frame from a life of memories relived. Memory is both joyous and painful and always entwined.
