12 Around 1, Miners, and Me

I have a vast treasure trove of articles that I posted on a now defunct forum called "Stargate Zero 2012". I was a forum administrator for over 7 years. I was very upset when one day it just disappeared and all the wonderful articles were gone. That forum was my indoctrination into a new way to view all of life, as deeper, richer and find that connections abound. I often wonder if these connections are just happenstance or did we ourselves leave signposts to help guide us through the maze.

This is the beginning of my journey into finding a signpost:

Perhaps some of you may wonder why I just won’t leave West Virginia and the Sago Mine disaster alone. Well to be honest I wonder myself. But this story caused a strange rift to happen inside me. Almost like someone drilled a bore hole in my brain and flicked a light switch that opened up a strange doorway into a whole new way of seeing life and ordinary common events. And many strange things have continued to happen to me since. And not all of them good, but many are. Almost as if by journeying down this deep mine I took on my own journey to find the Golden Fleece.

Caves are deep dark areas of all human psyches, and anyone who has the courage to overcome their fear of the dark and hidden enclosed spaces are to be considered heroic in my viewpoint. Caves scare the hell out of me. Being trapped deep underground is something that I don’t think I mentally could survive. The dark hidden places within the earth seem to hold a very intense fascination for all of us. Something within all of our buried unconscious remembers this and it is a piece of our unremembered history.

The original story of who we are and where we came from starts with us being miners and cave dwellers. Miners to the brothers Enki and Enlil. And all the “Hollow Earth” stories of strange beings and men from the stars. You have to admit it does resonate in you.

The Sago Mine Disaster is like one of those hidden picture stories for me. You hold it one way and a unique story appears, hold it another way and another story appears. And strangely enough all the stories are stories within other stories and they all relate to who we are and where we came from.

12 around 1. Everything within our present existence is based upon this. 13 miners were lost and 1 miraculously survived.

Take a look at a clock face. Take a look at the painting of the Last Supper with Jesus.

12 around 1 is all about us discovering the sacred geometry of life and who we truly are.

Many strange synchronicities started to appear when I started looking at Sago. And like I said some were not good.

Randal came out of the mine in a deep coma. On the exact same day Ariel Sharon in Israel went into a coma that he never has come out of. The miners wrote stories of just going to sleep and I’ll see you on the other side. One of my dearest friends in the midst of Sago just went to sleep and never woke up. Her name was Sharon.

Weeping uncontrollably, somehow feeling responsible for her death for “looking” at Sago, I felt that I was trapped deep underground also. One night during all this darkness I was in my kitchen making dinner and pulled out plates out of the cabinet to serve dinner. Looking down at the plates my heart stopped. Right there in my hand was 12 around 1.

When my husband and I first got married money was tight and we started life out together with practically nothing. We had a bed, a TV, a folding card table with 4 chairs and no plates, silverware or pots and pans.

Our grocery store used to offer dinner plates for free if you spent around $20, and trust me $20 was a LOT of money back then. So over the years I have collected a mishmash of plates this way. Some I have 4 of, some 3 and some 2. But this particular plate I only have one of. And it is the first plate that we started our journey together with. Standing there in my kitchen holding this plate, that had sat there all these years, followed me from home to home, waiting silently, patiently for me to one day really see it and know that something or someone was speaking to me.

It is a perfect example of 12 around 1 and the flower of life.

Now if I haven’t totally convinced you of my craziness, if you’re interested take a journey with me to discover all the secret, hidden things that are locked up in this crazy ride of life.

And many tears later, I can read this article with new wisdom -

Roof Collapse Kills Miner in Eastern Ky.

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

PIKEVILLE, Ky. - A roof collapse at an eastern Kentucky coal mine killed one miner, a state official said.

The rock fall occurred about 900 feet inside the Maverick Mining Co. LLC mine in Pikeville, near the Virginia line, said Chuck Wolfe, spokesman for the Kentucky Office of Mine Safety and Licensing

http://www.redorbit.com/news/science/355976/roof_collapse_kills_miner_in_eastern_ky/index.html?source=r_science#

And now we are back to 13. And on the other side of the river in Pikeville. Home of The Hatfields and McCoys. And home to where the families held a truce in 2003 and finally realized that we are all brothers and sisters.

All I know is that this story has opened my heart (my third eye) and leads me ever onward. The deaths along the way are so frightening to me. I spent the entire weekend frightened and curled up into a ball. I refused to look at it or go anywhere near it. So frightened. Was I making this happen? Just by looking at it?

I think that is my ego talking to me. Only God can make this happen.

This story happened late last week. I refused to talk about it, or look at it, I didn’t want anyone else to die. But they did.

One of my dearest friends died late Saturday night. Her name was Sharon. She was an angel. She rescued animals and homeless people. She loved life, she loved people. She was very special and kind.

She just went to sleep and never woke up. She just stopped breathing. She was 49 on Christmas Eve. I am going to her wake today. It is at 2099 Miner Street in Des Plaines, Illinois.

Dreams

This entry is weird and long. So if you are not so inclined then move along. Nothing to see here. I wrote this as an entry in my daily journal and it is directed at my daughters.

Dreams and what to make of them? I so very rarely remember any of my dreams anymore that I was positive that I just didn’t have any. For years I always had the most vivid dreams. The majority of them were always frightening as hell. I was forever being chased by some monster (always male and always evil as hell). Most times I had some little child that I was trying to save or protect. Many times I would wake up sobbing and run into my babies rooms as they were sleeping to make sure they were okay. I think deep down my most horrible fear is that someone would hurt one of my children and I wouldn’t be able to protect them. Dreams are weird. I can’t remember ever having any happy ones. Just always this horrifying running from something and trying to save one of my babies.

Well a couple of weeks ago, I had this dream that I can’t get out of my head. It started out as this nice beautifully peaceful day. Everything was green, the sky was blue and I was playing with my granddaughters outside. Something alerted me that danger was coming. I gathered up all the girls, holding tight to all their little hands and dragging them inside to their apartment. We had to run up a bunch of stairs to get inside to their apartment. Something in my mind said that wolves were coming. I never saw any wolves and wouldn’t think that I would be afraid of wolves. Well we had to go up all these stairs to get inside. Each stair was a big wooden deck and they were arranged in a spiral. Holding tight to all three girls we ran up and up. Finally we made it into their apartment. It was a nice place but not where they really live, I had never seen this place before. I started to calm down and the girls were all making fun of scarety cat grandma. I set them up watching TV and began to look around. The first thing I noticed was the patio door was open and the outside deck was rotten and filled with holes big enough for a child to fall through and Gabby was headed right for it. I ran and slammed the door shut and locked it. Well all of you know me well enough to know that I am absolutely scared to death of heights, and the thought that a child might fall, and I wouldn’t be able to save them makes my heart stop. I think you can all remember how tight I used to hold on to your hands anytime we went on any kind of ride that took us up in the air. Then I made them some lunch (spaghettios) and everyone was happily eating and watching cartoons.

 

As I was walking around the kitchen reading the notes on the refrigerator I turned and there was a long hallway, like the hallway separating apartments on the inside. Walking down this hallway came an elderly lady who said hello and walked on past me. Next came this man. In my dream I realized that he looked familiar but nothing registered. He was in his late forties maybe. He had black hair and cold pitch black eyes. He had pockmarked skin and he was balding but combed his hair over the balding part. He wore a colorful tropical shirt, trousers (the dockers kind) and gym shoes. I immediately sensed danger but my stupid southern courteousness made me say hello. He asked to borrow some paper towels. I said sure and turned to grab some to hand to him. In a flash his hands went around my neck and started to choke me. He was incredibly strong and the more I tried to fight him off, it seemed the more he liked it. I became furious, kicking, twisting trying to break free but he was too strong. I began to sob as I realized that he was going to kill me and then my grandbabies would be at his mercy also. Just as I could feel his hands choking the life out of me, Heidi shook me and woke me up. I woke up scared as hell, and knew that she had saved my life. Now number one, Heidi never wakes me up but this one night she did. Number two, on the news the next day was the story of the BTK murderer and his sentencing. This was the guy in my dream. Now did I just have this guy in my subconscious for some reason, or did his evil persona just float on into my dreams, or did I actually experience one of his victims being murdered? Creepy, eh? I still can’t get this dream out of my mind. It was chilling to say the least and I know that Heidi saved my life. Now how and why did she know to wake me up just at the moment before I would have died?

Well told you this would be long, so no complaining –

I started to do some research on dreams (too scared to look up anything about the BTK murderer, can’t even look at his picture!). I found this place and here is a very good article on dreams. This place is the oldest American organization to conduct psychic research. They are our own real-life “Talamasca”. All you Anne Rice aficionados should be familiar with the Talamasca introduced to us in her novel The Witching Hour

 

Anyways here is the article and the link to their website is below, a pretty damn interesting place, with loads of old books and dusty secrets. I love it!

Mindscape

Mindscape

Mindscape magazine is an eclectic mix of sub-culture and underground thoughts , ideas, discoveries , mysteries, musicians , films , books , gadgets and anything else that rocks the boat.

It’s a fun and irreverent look at the universe and everything within it. Sometimes serious, sometimes contemplative, but always thought provoking. There’s something for everybody.

A new magazine by Andrew Gough of the famous Arcadia discussion site.

Awakening

I am happy how many people are feeling the same and questioning our lives. Once you "wake up" into the deeper divine it is so amazingly wonderful you want to send everyone to wake up.

But sadly, it doesn't work that way, since we are all unique my spiritual revelations don't make sense to everyone, and it is my journey and this is as it should be.

Happy St. Patrick's Day and Universal Truths

I am changing and beginning to see how ALL of religion actually celebrates life, birth and renewal. We just don't realize it. Religion is a universal celebration of life and nature and renewal. And how very silly of us to kill each other over who's is better when they are all the same.

Today is St. Patrick's Day, a day to wear your green. And the green is returning as my little world wakes up and returns to life. It is so majestic and wonderful to walk outside in the mornings to hear symphonies of bird songs and each day way, way high up in the sky are the long legged migrating birds headed west. Are they like the gray elves headed for the West?

On Ash Wednesday we received the ashes on our foreheads to remind us Of the Most Important Truth in the Universe.
http://quantumtantra.blogspot.com/2011/03/most-important-truth-in-universe.html

Momento, homo,
Quia pulvis es,
Et in pulverem reverteris.


The most important truth in the Universe.


Remember, Man,
That thou art dust
And unto dust shalt thou return.

Remember, Woman,
That thou art water
And unto water shalt thou return.


Remember, Woman, thou art air
And unto air shalt thou return.


Unto earth shalt thou return

Moby We Are All Made of Stars

2011 - The Year of Illumination

http://www.leeharrisenergy.com/

Mirror of Erised

The word "Erised" (pronounced eer-ih-sehd) is "desire" spelled backwards meaning the name could also be known as the "mirror of desire." The backwards text is a symbol of the odd nature of the mirror, because the mirror works in a very backwards way from regular mirrors in a way that it shows the inside and not the outside of a person. The inscription around the mirror reads "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi" The message backwards is "I show not your face but your heart's desire."

The Mirror of Erised is a magic mirror, which, according to Albus Dumbledore, shows the "deepest and most desperate desire of our hearts." The happiest person in the whole world would look in the mirror and see a reflection of exactly the way he or she is. Inscribed across the top of the frame is the following text:

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

Reversing the inscription and rearranging the spaces produces:

I show not your face but your heart's desire

Through the recent journey I've taken through death and life, I have made some discoveries about love. The first is that love is always there. Whether we know it or not, we are surrounded by an ocean of love. Our challenge is not to find love, as though it were a distant, half-mythical goal. Our challenge is to become aware of love. Like the object you search the house for and then find was in your pocket all along, love is right with us. Our task is to abandon the distraction of searching and give ourselves to the love that is always there.

Perhaps, when reading this, you thought as I did of the scene before the Mirror of Erised where Harry sought the Stone and suddenly found it in his pocket.

I would like to quote from this book 'Facing Death Finding Love -The Healing Power of Grief & Loss In One Family's Life' (1994) by Dawson Church.  This is mainly a meditation over the author's loss of a new-born child.  Writing of the earlier birth of his other son, in a chapter called 'Welcoming the Soul' -- to compare with what Ms Rowling wrote of the contrast between Voldemort and Harry:  the different circumstances of their birth and the choices they made later.

And finally, from the same book --

If your heart is open, the soul of your baby will surely know it.  Just imagine you were a stranger landing in a strange country, where you didn't know any of the customs or the language.  How grateful you would be for a guide who would feed you, clothe you, teach you the language, and care for and protect you while you were learning to fend for yourself.  If the soul of your child knows you welcome it and will be a loving guardian of its growth, it can easily make the confining transition into a physical body.

Lionel was traumatized by his difficult birth.  It toook several hours after the umbilical cord was cut for him to calm down and got to sleep.  For the next few days, he cried and cried.  I knew that newborns can cry a great deal, but Lionel's constant crying began to weary me.  We tried everything.  We would feed him, clean him, burp him, cuddle him, and he still cried.  After six weeks of relentless crying, I was at my wit's end.  I felt as though I was on the brink of insanity.  I wanted to throw him out the window.

'Why don't you try giving him an attunement?' Brenda then suggested.  Doing this frequently when Lionel was in the womb had conditioned me to think of this primarily as a prenatal technique, not something to do after birth.  I placed my hands over his body and shared a long, loving attunement with him.  I spoke to his soul  'What is going on with this baby?  Why is he so distressed?'

'He didn't know you were here,' his soul replied.  'You spent time with him in spirit like this every day while he was in the womb, then once he was born, this conscious contact suddenly stopped.  He's reached out to you in spirit and found no one there.'

How could I have been so blind?  I had been a presence welcoming and loving him all through gestation, and suddenly he finds himself born into this uncertain new environment, and his friend isn't there!  The constant attunement signal he has been orienting to has suddenly disappeared, and he finds himself all alone.  Of course he is distressed.  I had been so focused on the physical level of actually having a baby I could hold and see that I had completely forgotten the spiritual level of parenting.  At the soul level, I had abandoned my baby.

As I held my hands over Lionel's body, his crying stopped.  His breathing became regular, and he fell asleep.  He had rediscovered his friend.  From that day on there was a complete change in his behavior. He cried infrequently and quickly stopped when we took care of his needs. He became an amazingly happy baby,and to this day is the happiest person I have ever met.

The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is.
In 1992, the Mirror was the final guardian of the Philosopher's Stone in its Chambers. Dumbledore placed an enchantment on the mirror, hiding the stone inside of it and allowing the mirror to transfer the stone to anyone who wanted to find the stone but not to use it. Anybody wishing more than simply finding it would see themselves making gold or the Elixir of Life, or in Professor Quirrell's case presenting the stone to his master.

When Quirrell/Voldemort ordered Harry to look into the mirror, Harry focused on finding the stone, and, uninterested in actually using the stone for his own purposes, saw his reflection pocketing the stone, at which time it magically appeared in his real pocket.^[1]

Harry did not do the hero's thing and slay the villain.  Harry was the means that Voldemort brought death upon himself.  Harry was the mirror that destroys the basilisk by reflecting the basilisk's gaze.  He is like the 'fetch' that Emerald mentioned, 'a spirit counterpart of one's own soul that connects it to the realm of the Gods.'  Loosely speaking, that could be the substance which produces the ecstatic state....

But how did Harry become able to be that mirror to begin with? Through Voldy's inadvertent semi-transformation of him. (I say "semi-" in the sense that the transformation, or alteration, was temporary, to the tune of 16 years.) The basilisk does not create the mirror with which it can itself be destroyed. But Voldemort does. (And he does so by choosing to act on the Prophecy, as DD drives home in HBP.)

But... even though Voldy made his own mirror, by altering/transforming Harry, Harry's response to that transformation - to use it against V rather than give in to the allure of Dark Magic - was all Harry. Even his mother's love protection didn't achieve that all on its own. He wasn't a static instrument, like a literal mirror would be; he was a participant. DD also tells us that it was Harry choosing to live up to the potential for love that his mother gave him that had allowed Harry to stay in the Light. And it was by choosing to stay in the Light that put Harry put himself into the position of being a mirror at the right time and place.

Are you a seeker or a finder

The Cosmic Vanguard

Are you a seeker or a finder? This is a very important question. If you are on a spiritual path, have you found what you are looking for? Or are you still searching? If you are doing a spiritual practice, are you doing it to reach a goal or are you doing it just because you think it’s a good thing to be doing? Or are you doing spiritual practice from another position altogether—the position of being a finder? Being a finder means you are one of those rare individuals who has unequivocally found what they are looking for, and are now doing spiritual practice only because they want to continue to develop.

People who do spiritual practice but who are not yet enlightened tend to divide their lives between the “spiritual” part and the unspiritual part. When they are engaged with spiritual practice and spend time in the company of others who share their faith or conviction in the reality of Spirit, that’s the spiritual part. All the rest is the unspiritual part. People who are enlightened, on the other hand, see all of life as an unending spiritual adventure with no holes or gaps where Spirit is not present. What you see is what you get. It is really only the capacity to see and directly experience the life we are living with greater and greater depth and more and more perspective that liberates our awareness and awakens our consciousness of Spirit’s all-pervasive presence.

If you are a sincere seeker, then it’s important that your spiritual practice be imbued with a life-and-death commitment to your own liberation here and now. The short-term goal must be to get to the other side of existential doubt. You want to free your soul from both the ego’s suffocating self-concern and the outdated and spiritually unenlightened values of our modern and postmodern culture. First and foremost, you need to do whatever it takes to free yourself. Why? So you will finally be available to participate, consciously and wholeheartedly, in the greatest gift you’ve been given...which is the life you’re already living right now.

If you are no longer a seeker but one who boldly claims to be a finder, then that means you no longer have any doubt about who you really are and why you are here on this Earth. In your own direct discovery of and awakening to Spirit’s true face, existential doubt has died a sudden and irrevocable death, liberating an infectious confidence rooted deep in your soul. A true finder may or may not continue to do spiritual practice. If he or she does, it is motivated, as I said, by the desire to continue to develop and evolve. Indeed in the new evolutionary spirituality, making the noble effort to catalyze our own individual and collective higher development is recognized to be the very raison d’être of the human experience at the leading edge. But as finders we’re no longer doing practice in order to experience a spiritual epiphany that will convince us of something we don’t already know. Now we’re making the effort to evolve because we’re in love with life and are committed to unlocking its higher potentials through our own development.

When we realize that the process of life is Spirit in action, then ideally we would aspire for our entire lives to become an unceasing manifestation of its multidimensional nature. Even more importantly, we would expect our actions to embody its most significant qualities. That means we would be expressing freedom and creativity in and through the way that we live the gift of life. And this would occur both as the spontaneous expression of a liberated heart and mind and as the practice of evolutionarily enlightened living.

I became a spiritual teacher twenty-four years ago, after I found what I was looking for. Up until that point I had been an ardent meditator. The practice of meditation, for me, was the means to an end: I wanted to become an enlightened person, whatever that was going to mean. I took my practice very seriously. I also exercised vigorously every day. I was careful about what I ate. I sought out and cultivated friendships with others who shared my passion for Spirit. And, typical of my generation, I looked to the East to find illumination rather than to the West. Like so many others, I traveled to India. When I arrived, almost immediately I felt like I was home. This was because I entered into a shared cultural context where the inner quest was accepted as being a lofty and valid endeavor. I no longer felt like such an outsider. After two and half years, I met my last teacher and he liberated my soul when he uttered ten simple words: “You don’t have to make any effort to be free.” Upon hearing this, I made the transition from seeker to finder.

I have spent almost the last quarter century struggling with the question of how to take people with me on the greatest journey that there is: from seeker to finder to co-creator of Heaven on Earth. The first step is straightforward—to become a finder all any one of us ever has to do is let go of the fears and desires of the ego, absolutely and unconditionally. It obviously goes without saying that this is easier said than done. Freedom is letting go and letting go is freedom. In truth, it doesn’t take effort. It only requires you to love God or Spirit more than you love yourself.

Creating Heaven on Earth is another matter altogether. It requires enormous effort and a long-term commitment that means forever. It also requires practice, because all truly great creative accomplishments require endless practice. So how much practice are we actually doing to ensure our own development? How deeply have we realized the importance our own higher evolution has, if we desperately want the world to change for the better? These are important and relevant questions for serious people who are committed to change.

After so many years, what have I come up with as the magic remedy for both letting go and creating Heaven on Earth? Well, that’s simple ...we have to do it all! What does that really mean? We have to endeavor to take on and embrace every aspect of the human condition, individually and together, and insist that evolution happens. This approach has been called “integral practice.” Integral, in this case, means taking on our whole being, in all its many dimensions.

We can either approach the whole endeavor of practice from the “outside-in” or from the “inside-out.” Outside-in means we intellectually understand and appreciate the multi-dimensional complexity of our selves, and we aspire to engage with and develop as many parts of ourselves as possible because we have recognized that it makes good sense to do so. The inside-out approach is one in which we have already spiritually awakened, at least to some degree, to the perennial mystical truth that all is One. And from the direct cognizance of that Oneness, we endeavor to align and develop the many different dimensions of our own being. My approach is from the inside-out.

So what does a life of spiritual practice, a life in which Spirit is being truly lived, look like? If we are committed to creating Heaven on Earth, we need to pray or meditate every single day so deeply and earnestly that each and every time the result is freedom from fear and existential doubt. The goal is ultimately to get to that point in our own spiritual development where we no longer need prayer or meditation to know what the Truth is.

The highest form of spiritual practice, for those of us who aspire to create Heaven on Earth, is our relationships with one another. That means being willing to sacrifice anything and everything so that the intersubjective world of our shared culture becomes the stage on which the spiritual reality of who we really are, beyond our separate egos, comes to the fore. Think about it: If Spirit always comes before self, then the self that we are will always manifest as Spirit first. What could be more important than this if we want to change our world?

Another very important dimension of spiritual practice is the cultivation of what I call spiritual self-respect. That is because spiritual self-respect is ego-transcendence. We must do whatever we need to do to respect ourselves so that we can respect each other. It’s more important to respect yourself than to “love yourself.” In a spiritually awakened context, respect for self always means respect for God or Spirit. Respect for that which is higher is transformative because it instantly ennobles and dignifies our separate personalities. That’s very different from having to love your ego in order to feel comfortable being who you are.

If you respect yourself, you’re going to make the extra effort to take care of yourself. How you look from the outside is always an expression of what you believe in. Evolved and enlightened saints and sages from all traditions have already told us that the path to God is one defined by self-discipline, self-control, humility, and unshakeable commitment. Because of your rare degree of spiritual inspiration, physically you will radiate beauty, and emotionally you will vibrate with open-hearted self-confidence. This will be as a result of your own ceaseless efforts and submission to your own true heart’s longing.

Finally, and most importantly, because of our commitment to going all the way and putting all of this into practice, we will simultaneously create and reap the heavenly rewards. The life we have chosen to live and our relationships will become an ecstatic cauldron of creative ferment. Because Spirit is both freedom and creativity, our own empowering realization of spiritual freedom will give rise to an unusual capacity for creative engagement. The truth of God will emerge again and again and again through our own ongoing love affair with the possible.
http://www.andrewcohen.org/blog/index.p … rit-lived/

Learning to accept who I am and unafraid

I wrote the following article on April 18, 2008 right after experiencing an earthquake in Chicago and outlying suburbs. It shook us all up pretty good. And pushed all the fear buttons, mine especially. Then as usual it just got freakier ......

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_18%2C_2008_Midwest_Earthquake2008_Midwest_Earthquake

Tremors rattle people awake across Chicago area
By Jason Meisner | Tribune staff reporter
5:01 AM CDT, April 18, 2008

Authorities at the National Weather Service in Romeoville on Friday were fielding numerous calls from across the Chicago region about tremors that may have been caused by a small earthquake.

The tremors could be felt in downtown Chicago at the Tribune Tower, 435 N. Michigan Ave., for about 20 seconds beginning around 4:40 a.m.

The National Weather Service began receiving calls from all over the area at about that time, meteorologist Bill Wilson said. "We're getting calls from as far away as Valparaiso," he said.

The Associated Press was reporting an earthquake rocked people awake in Indiana.

The ground shook in Indianapolis and Evansville about 4:39 a.m. The shaking lasted about 10 seconds.

There were no immediate reports of injuries.

All my birds were flying around like mad in their cages and strange noise sounded like it was coming from the roof. Dogs started howling all over the neighborhood.

totally bizarre and freaky!

oh for pete's sake this is freaky -

Today in History - April 18
By The Associated Press – 6 hours ago

Today is Friday, April 18, the 109th day of 2008. There are 257 days left in the year.

Today's Highlight in History:

On April 18, 1906, a devastating earthquake struck San Francisco, followed by raging fires; estimates of the final death toll range between 3,000 and 6,000.

A new perspective on the Mayan calendar end date controversy
William C. Treurniet, March, 2007

Summary. A previous study found a relationship between the number of earthquakes in the lower mantle and the structure of the Mayan calendar. As predicted by a model proposed by Calleman (2004), the number of earthquakes alternated in successive 360-day periods corresponding to the Days and Nights of the Galactic Underworld. The present study investigated the strength of this alternating pattern beginning in 1973. The data show that the pattern weakly appeared in 1991, but faded away only to reappear in 1996. It increased in strength from 1996 up to the present. These observations indicate that the pulses of the universal consciousness field proposed by the model were felt perhaps three years before the onset of the Galactic Underworld. The magnitude increased with each successive Underworld Day, and the trend suggests that it will continue to increase in the future.

I began wondering if that all this manifesting energy into matter stuff IS REAL
Are we learning how to dream our new 5th world into being?

I have had mystical, dreamy paranormal experiences my whole life. I also come from a family who have a high number of intellectual geniuses and a high number who have committed suicide. I have walked a tightrope most of my life, and struggled to not give in to "magical thinking", which my mother convinced me opened me up to being taken over by "demons".

Back in the early 90s (probably 1991) like this article above states, I had this recurring dream every single night for months. An ancient looking Indian man was walking down highway after highway. No one stopped to pick him up and it seemed that he grew more and more tired. I felt so sorry for him. But every night he came into my dreams and walked and walked. This went on for days and days. And then one night I began to dream that I saw with his eyes and then I knew that he was searching for me. I watched him walk up to my house and nod his head. I was happy that he found me, it felt good, I was happy that he got to rest, I gave him some water to drink. He told me that he had been looking for me everywhere and now he found me. I laughed and said what could he possibly want with me? You are a maker he said, you must help to bring the 5th world or we will all die. Then he touched my head and all I saw were huge nuclear explosions, and I grew so afraid, no no no, I cannot do this, I cannot, it was too fearful. You must do this or the 5th world cannot appear. You are a maker, you must help to bring about the fifth world. I ran from him and told him no, no, no this is too terrible you must leave. I pushed this dream into the back of my mind, but still the fear was in me. Then I discover the internet, discover the Hopi prophecy and 2012. Then I begin to think that I am killing people by dreaming and walk through coals of fire to not just end it all, that I am some evil creature of night. I now see that the only way to shock me awake was to make me look, and the only thing I would look at was people dying. But now, slowly, gradually, I am being cured of my fear of death, and cured that I cause things to die. And that I am not a demon or a devil.

Hidden inside of me has been this dream, and I have fought it and fought it.This dream came to me night after night after night. And each night this ancient Indian man walked until he found, "me".

2012 is a time of a great revealing, all lies must become truths. All must change and most importantly we must change. And time I think to discuss seriously how to bring about the 5th world we all so want and desire.

some articles that help to express what I am thinking here.....
2012 : A Time Odyssey
Sharron Rose

And this headline a few days later made me say well of course Magnitude-4.0 aftershock reported from Midwest earthquake AP - April 21, 2008
Ill. earthquake "a wake-up call". Was this message for me?

And here I am now on March 6, 2011 a quiet peaceful Sunday and it feels like I have traveled to the moon and back. I find that I have opened the door into light as in this video and stepped through. I am no longer afraid to be a "maker" as was told to me in my dream. I in fact cherish this fact and am so filled with the wonder of my life. And I now ponder that the Indian looking for me was in fact my higher self, I believe.

I feel that it's important to share these videos below; that will help to explain where I am now and who I am becoming and who we all are becoming. At some point you will be given the opportunity to accept this reality is much deeper than you could ever believe.

As discussion of 2012 begins to enter the mainstream media, fact and fiction concerning ancient prophecies, astronomical alignments and doomsday scenarios can easily get confused. This can happen especially if you live in Western Europe or North America and are exposed to the shrink-wrapped, dumbed-down soundbite melodramas that masquerade as news. So let us begin to clarify matters with a bit of etymology.

The word "apocalypse" does not mean "the end of the world". Apocalypse means "revelation" (Greek: Ἀποκάλυψις -translit. Apokalypsis), literally "the lifting of the veil" – a term applied to the disclosure to certain privileged persons of something hidden from the mass of humankind. The Greek root corresponds in the Septuagint (an early Jewish text) to the Hebrew galah (גלה), "to reveal".

Some days when the gyroscope inside of me is spinning fluidly, life is grand and I am so happy to be alive here and now. Even with all the terror, sadness, injustices and wrongness in the world. Even with all the terrible things I see within all that I thought were the "higher beings". Even with all the evil, even with 9/11 I begin to see and understand that it is all on track and spinning like it is supposed to, to wake us up, to reveal truth of our inner being-ness. On those days I feel full of light and hope and joy.

But still there are days where the media sucks me back into the matrix of "fake reality" and fear takes over my mind and my heart.

But now I know the keys that unlock the doors and all I have to do is unlock the doors.

My prayers now are for all of us to find the keys, and unfortunately each key is different for each person.

But together with each of our keys, a wonder awaits!

Our world shakes with revolution, inside and outside. All those "nuclear" bombs I saw in my dream are powerful changes manifesting inside of each and everyone across the globe. We are birthing a new world and labor is hard work. But joy awaits us.

Social and political change happen when a group of people have quietly changed in their minds and collectively hold an emotional opinion. The American Revolution was fought and won by only one-third of the colonists. (Another third favored British rule, and the last third just didn’t care).

The black revolution in America began with a shared feeling among the people. Before Rosa Parks sat down in the front of the bus, flicking the domino that sent racial segregation tumbling, the blacks of the south had quietly been talking. They told each other they had had enough. Their group decision changed America.

Raison d'être
"This is the true joy in life: To being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one. To being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.

I am of the opinion that my life belongs to the whole community and as long as I live, it is my privilege to do for it whatever I can. I want to be thoroughly used up when I die. For the harder I work, the more I live.

I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no brief candle to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got a hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations." ~ George Bernard Shaw ~





And this one is for my youngest daughter and my grand daughter, someday they may read this and understand the secret that was being shown to them too.

This wonderful season of love

I find myself learning to trust my life and love each and every moment of it. Most days are so filled with peace and joy that sometimes I worry that I will wake up from this most wonderful dream. I know truly that I am a child of love and am much loved. All I have to do is return the love.

I love that each day my email sends me love bombs of articles reflecting the love that is all around me and mine for the asking. I am in such a good place.

I wanted to share my article of today -

The Heart of Christmas
by Puran Bair

The birth of the Christian Messiah is an event of such magnitude that it corresponds to a change in direction on the horizon of the planet. For  several days after the winter solstice, the sunrise appears at the same spot on the horizon. The day appointed for the birth of Christ is the first day when the position of the sunrise appears to change direction, reversing the shortening of days and beginning a period of greater light.

Christmas is the heart of Christianity, a time of rejoicing for the miracle of birth and rebirth, heralding transformation and forgiveness through the peaceful birth of the Prince of Peace, who has not yet said a word of His message nor yet performed an act of His love.

Hazrat Inayat Khan: "In reality the greatest miracle of Christ that any wise man or woman can see is the miracle of Christ's living heart; not wonderworking, but the living God presented to the world. This was the lighted faith which helped the darkness to vanish, not dogmas, doctrines, or theories which all came afterwards."

The heart of Christmas is celebrating the birth of the divine within, in the manger of the heart. A divine gift was conceived in each human soul, but it must wait to be delivered until the opening of the heart. Every time this happens to any of us, the wise men and women who are aware of the initiation gather to celebrate.

Every Christian who seeks for the Truth of Christ is a Sufi, for Sufi literally means, "Seeker of Truth." And every Sufi recognizes Christ as the savior of humanity. As Hazrat Inayat Khan, the great Sufi teacher, said,  

"In the smile of the innocent child, there is Christ; in the warmth of the mother's heart for her child, Christ is hidden. In the unselfish, self-sacrificing love of the father, Christ shows himself. In the kindly attitude of a friend you can see the spirit of Christ. What is there which has beauty, tenderness, or gentleness which has not the spirit of Christ?"

Frankincense, used in worship and medicine; myrrh, used in embalming; and gold, of eternal worth, were given to the divine child in recognition of His dominion over life, death and eternity. We celebrate the birth of the Christ within, every day that we recognize the divine in ourselves or another. By our praise of a person's heart, in any of its four dimensions, we offer a golden gift of beautiful fragrance, a gift of healing and celebration that brings to life that which we recognize.

I celebrate the opening of your heart, the increasing light of your being and the truth of the divine within you by saying, "Merry Christmas!"

Day One of the writing life

I purchased two teaching aides this summer to help me regain the self confidence to start writing in my own voice instead of copying and pasting articles that say something I want to say. They both sit unopened. But I approach things in baby steps and the fact that I have actually come here to my blog and started to write is a very big baby step.

I have had a dream for a long time of telling stories, but I am recovering from a stroke which only damaged my writing and verbal skills. But I am happy to say that I have made great strides in my recovery.

So little by little I will myself to find the key and open the locks that are keeping all those stories locked up inside of me. I have no doubt that adventures await.

I ran across this quote today, and I love it, and love the fact that yesterday the new Harry Potter movie opened and my daughters and granddaughters and I are all going to see it together for our holiday treat.

“And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure.” J.K. Rowling

Adventure awaits and calls to me to have no fear.

The Universe

What if, Connie , loneliness was simply a feeling of impatience, telepathically sent to you by friends you've yet to meet, urging you to go out more, do more, and get involved, so that life's serendipities could bring you together... Would you still feel alone?

What if illness was just the signal a healthy body sent to urge clarification of your thoughts, feelings, and dreams... Would you still, at times, think of yours as diseased?

What if feelings of uncertainty and confusion were only reminders that you have options, that there's no hurry, and that everything is as it should be... Would you still feel disadvantaged?

What if mistakes and failures only ever happened when your life was about to get better than it's ever been before... Would you still call them mistakes and failures?

And what if poverty and lack were simply demonstrations of your manifesting prowess, as "difficult" to acquire as wealth and abundance... Would they still cause you to feel powerless?

Well, whatever you feel, Connie , I still consider you my only begotten, my champion, and my equal.



Are we close, or what?
The Universe

Blacksmiths of the Divine

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his haul, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing onward through life we go, each burning deed and thought creating ourselves and our world in which if we are lucky one day we wipe the fog from our eyes and begin to see the divine in all.

Nurturance of Life

Life, in this definition, is an individual's sovereign reality. It is subjective and impressionable. Life is the wholeness of experience flowing past the individual's field of perception in the present moment. Nurturance of life is the principle whereby an individual is in alignment with the natural expansion of intelligence inherent within all life. This alignment enhances the life energy that flows past the individual with the clear intent of gentle support. It is the action of opening to the highest motive in all people and in all life and supporting the flow of this highest intention towards its ultimate expression. In so doing, the action is performed without judgment, analysis, or attachment to outcome. It involves simply nurturing the highest energy that flows from all people and thus supporting the fullest expression of their deepest essence.

I write like

I write like
David Foster Wallace

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

It's summer and the living is easy

Albert Camus:

"In the midst of winter, I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer."

Summer will forever be my sweetest memories. I savor each day now and have gained some new awareness inside of me. Some watcher that makes me take note of the things that used to never cross my radar. I watch as I realize right outside my back door is a major expressway for the birds of the air. My patio door faces south and each morning there is this huge flight across my back yard of all sorts of flying birds headed south to their jobs of the day. Ducks, geese, crows, seagulls, and lots of little guys who seem to only be on short trips. I wonder where they are headed and what their jobs are.

My garden grows lush and beautiful. I relish each flower and each gift from Mother Earth. I so love the touch of my hands in the earth. I so love watering and caretaking.

Only another gardener can know the joy of growing things. But something has happened when we mass produce food. We have lost something of ourselves. I found this editorial this morning and it brings me hope that we are becoming more aware and returning to our built in empathy. I sure hope so. There is absolutely no reason for us to be so damn mean to the animals that give us the gift of life.

A Humane Egg

The Journey and losing faithful companions

The path of the Questor is generally walked alone, sharing experiences along the way. Such is the metaphoric journey of humanity. As souls awaken, they realize there are truths beyond what has been told to them in the story of our creation. But where do they begin their journey into awareness?

Most begin with an epiphany or a synchronicity set up by their soul which leads them to question old belief systems, and things in their lives that have always been there, leaving clues, that were never addressed. We often store information in the subconscious mind until we are ready to access it.

My life continues to unfold in mostly shades of glorious sunshine now. Is that because I am growing older and more comfortable with the who I am or because I have found my feet upon this incredible journey of my life and each day brings new insights. I am no longer afraid of who I am, nor afraid of where I am going. I am just enjoying the journey.

But the journey is still filled with pain and sometimes unbearable pain. We recently had to make the decision to end the life of one of my faithful dog companions who was 16 and half years old. Our beautiful Misty girl. She was a rescue dog that Heidi, my youngest, went to like a magnet at the humane society. There was absolutely no choice, she was the dog that was coming home with us. The humane society had no information on her other than they had found her tied to a tree, and they guessed that she was maybe around a year old. That was so long ago. Misty had most certainly been abused but she loved her new family with the biggest love ever. And we loved her back. I cherish the years that she was with us and so look forward to seeing her again as she waits for us at the end of the rainbow bridge. Thank you for all the love Misty.

The most important information to understand is here

The Wayfarer's Story

Title:     The Wayfarer
Author: Stephen Crane [More Titles by Crane]
The wayfarer,
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
"In a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last, "Doubtless there are other roads."

The Wayfarer's Tale

Rev. Jonathan Mitchell

Wayfarers Chapel

May 25, 2003

Deuteronomy 30:15-16, 19-20

Mark 4:21-23

Last Sunday, I started a series of sermons based on the Wayfarers Poem, Pause for a moment, wayfarer, on life's journey . . . And I suggested that we define the wayfarer to be anyone who has a story to tell. To the degree that we are all embarked on life's journey and have a story to tell, we are all wayfarers. This morning I want to reflect further on these questions: Who is the wayfarer who pauses? And in that pause, how do we tell, and how do we hear, the wayfarer's tale?

One of the things I observe about myself, whenever I have a chance to pause, is that all kinds of memories start to bubble up from within. It seems like a very chaotic process. Memories come in from all periods of my life and in no particular order. And I am just as likely to remember trivial things as I am the big events. To be sure, if I get to wondering how I came to be thinking about a particular period, person, or situation from the past, I can usually trace back a series of associations to its first trigger in the present. Yet this chain of associations can take me almost anywhere in very short order. In thinking about this recently, the image came to mind of the cauldron. The ever advancing present is like a ladle constantly stirring up the cauldron of memory, bringing to the surface first one memory and then another. And every day more ingredients are poured in—stir, stir, stir! But if memory is a cauldron, then what magic potion, or what poison is being prepared?

Well, who knows? But I pray at least, for myself and for all of you, that out of the cauldron of memory will emerge the wisdom of a life's experience—the unique wisdom of the total life experience of one unique and irreplaceable human being.

How then do we bring some order to our memories? How do we understand our lives as stories with an overall plot? When we pause, what do our stories tell us, what guidance can they offer for that part of the journey which is still to come? In relationship to our total life experience so far, we are much like editors. Our memories make up an enormous mass of manuscript, if you will, and it is up to us to boil it all down to a story that can be told and shared. In this process, we have, I would suggest, more creative freedom than we usually realize. Whatever has happened to you in the course of your life, you can organize and interpret that story in many ways. How you tell that story affects your outlook on life, or maybe it is better to say that the story of your life as you tell it to yourself is your outlook on life.

One of the simplest ways we organize and interpret our experience is to see the same things happening to us over and over again. It is as if our lives were a song with many verses, but with always the same refrain. The comedian Rodney Dangerfield made a career of this approach. I don't get any respect—the constant refrain of his routines—is funny in large part because we recognize in it our own tendency to see our lives as the same old story over and over. If we take such an interpretation too seriously, however, there is a danger that we will come to see ourselves as hapless victims circumstance. Surely our stories a need, at the least, a sense of direction.

There are other overall themes that can summarize our life experience as well. I once had a brief conversation with a visitor to the grounds of Wayfarers Chapel, who told me that he had been married here—the first time. He went on to say that his second marriage was going much better, that he had been young and foolish the first time and had married for all the wrong reasons. I could see that revisiting Wayfarers Chapel had evoked a wistful feeling for him. Older and wiser—this too is a theme that can organize our life story.

Or again, I had a wedding couple tell me recently that they wanted to play heavy metal music by AC/DC in their wedding. Luckily, they were joking. But, certainly, we can, if we choose, see ourselves as traveling on the Highway to Hell, and this outlook can have a certain seductive appeal. Another couple wanted Stairway to Heaven in their service. Which is it for you? Are you on the "Highway to Hell" or the "Stairway to Heaven"?

Popular songs, and favorite hymns, often express various ways that our life stories could be summarized. This is what makes them popular: we see ourselves in them. For example, consider a song Frank Sinatra made popular, I did it my way. The advantage of seeing your life in these terms is that it affirms the choices you have made in life as your own free choices, and it emphasizes what you have done over what has happened to you. Another good example is the anthem of the Civil Rights Movement, We Shall Overcome. This is an empowering way to look at your life in that it recognizes that there are circumstances and injustices in your life you have no control over, while at the same time affirming your ability to resist. It suggests that you can make things better for yourself and for others. The "we" is significant too. In contrast to the individualism of "I did it my way", it invites you into a group identity and a common cause. Or yet again, consider Amazing grace . . . I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see. It is indeed a moment of grace in our lives when we can sing this song and mean it. It lets us acknowledge the mistakes in our lives as mistakes, while thanking the Spirit for bringing us beyond them. It invites us to a life of conscious gratitude.

Well, these examples could go on indefinitely. So I will leave it as a thought question for you. If your life experience so far were to be summed up in a song, what would that song be? I think you will find, when you reflect, that several of the songs I have mentioned, or others that occur to you, can be made to fit to one degree or another. As I said earlier, we have more creative freedom in telling our stories than we often recognize. We ourselves decide, so to speak, the name of the tune.

The importance of how we interpret our experience is brought out tellingly by Robert Haralick, in the introduction to his book, The Hidden Meaning of the Hebrew Letters. He writes:

We are involved in a variety of relationships with family, friends, work, community, country, world and God. The understandings and interpretations we give to each of these situations all complete a meaning we return to God. These understandings and interpretations are not necessitated by anything external. Nor are they fixed in some way so that our situation can have only one kind of interpretation. Each of our situations is inherently ambiguous, having meaning possibilities one way or another. And the choice of how to interpret, which way to interpret is ours.

By the meaning possibilities we complete, we establish what we have made ourselves. God tells us to choose life: choose to complete meaning possibilities that are holy. Do not choose death. Do choose meaning possibilities that are unholy.

Here Haralick alludes to our reading this morning from the Book of Deuteronomy:

I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving God, obeying God, and holding fast to God. For that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.

Life and death, blessings and curse - these are the choices God sets before us. I hope you have come to see that they are also the implicit choices we make as we tell our stories, whether to ourselves or to each other. We can tell our stories in ways that bespeak bitterness, resentment, cynicism, discouragement and despair. To do so is to choose to curse, to curse ourselves and others. Or we can tell our stories in ways that bespeak gratitude, forgiveness and compassion, that bespeak an aspiration to learn and to grow, that bespeak a commitment to contribute to the betterment of the world. To do that is to choose to bless and to support the forces of life.

Simply to retell our stories in new ways can be a transformative moment in our spiritual lives. We can realize that the stories we have been telling ourselves are destructive and self-limiting. We can come to see that we could just as truthfully tell ourselves more hopeful, more empowering stories. We can reexamine the stories of our lives so far in the light of these new interpretations. We can choose to bless and to live richer, fuller lives.

Who is the wayfarer who pauses? How do we tell, and how do we hear, the wayfarer's tale? I would suggest that these are questions for ongoing pause and reflection here at Wayfarers Chapel. May we be given the wisdom to tell and to hear our stories in their most life-giving tellings. And as we meet on the road, may we help each other to find the wisdom and the blessing in the wayfarer's tale.

Your Story is Important, Learning to Write It

Life is like onions, one layer after another. And learning to realize that everything adds flavor to life so savor it all. And do not be afraid. There is only one you and we each our living only our story.

My birthday is fast approaching. And this year it falls on Easter Sunday, and I was born on Good Friday. The old children's rhyme comes to mind

Monday's child is fair of face,

Tuesday's child is full of grace,

Wednesday's child is full of woe,

Thursday's child has far to go,

Friday's child is loving and giving,

Saturday's child works hard for a living,

But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day

Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

My gift to myself for this birthday is to be brave enough to follow one of my dreams. The dream of sharing stories and the wonder of them all.

So I will begin, with a lesson on writing

All creative processes, be they in literature, engineering, computing – and even in love – always respect the same rules: the cycle of nature. Here is a list of the stages along this process:

a] ploughing the field: the moment the soil is turned, oxygen penetrates places it was unable to previously. The field gets a fresh look, the earth which was on top is now below, and that which was underneath has come to the surface. This process of interior revolution is very important – because, just as the field’s new look will see sunlight for the first time, and be dazzled by it, a new assessment of our values will allow us to see life innocently, without ingenuity. Thus we will be prepared for the miracle of inspiration. A good creator must know how to continually turn over his values, and never be content with that which he believes he understands.

b] sowing: all work is the fruit of contact with life. A creative man cannot lock himself in an ivory tower; he must be in contact with his fellow men, and share his human condition. He never knows, at the outset, which things will be important to him in the future, so the more intense his life is, the more possibilities he will create for an original language. Le Corbusier said that: as long as man tried to fly by imitating birds, he couldn’t succeed. The same applies to the artist: although he translates emotions, the language he is translating is not fully understood by him, and if he tries to imitate or control his inspiration, he will never obtain that which he desires. He must allow his life to sow the fertile soil of his unconscious.

c] growth: there is a time in which the work writes itself, freely, at the bottom of the author’s soul – before it dares show itself. In the case of literature, for example, the book influences the writer, and vice versa. It is this moment which the Brazilian poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade refers to, when he states that we should never try to recover lost verses, for they never deserved to see the light of day. I know people who, during a growth period, spend their whole time furiously taking notes on everything which comes into their head, without respecting that which is being written in the unconscious. The result is that the notes, which are the fruit of memory, end up disturbing the fruit of inspiration. The creator must respect the time of gestation, although he knows – just like the farmer – that he is only partially in control of his field; it is subject to drought and floods. But if he knows how to wait, the stronger plants, which can resist bad weather, will come to light with great force.

d] the harvest: the moment when man manifests on a conscious plane that which he sowed and allowed to grow. If he harvests early, the fruit is green, if he harvests late, the fruit is rotten. Every artist recognizes the arrival of this moment; although some aspects may not have matured fully, some ideas not be crystal clear, they reorganize themselves as the work is produced. Without fear and with great discipline, he understands that he must work from dawn to dusk, until the work is finished.

And what to do with the results of the harvest? Again, we look to Mother Nature: she shares everything with everyone. An artist who wishes to keep his work to himself, is not being fair with that which he received from the present moment, nor with the inheritance and teachings of his forefathers. If we leave the grain stored in the granary, it will go bad, even though it was harvested at the right time. When the harvest is over, the time comes to share, without fear or shame, your own soul.

That is the artist’s mission, however painful or glorious.
By Paulo Coelho  The Creative Process

And the Easter Egg that led me to these thoughts was remembering the story of Harry Potter and it's author JK Rowling. Some stories have the power of alchemy. The great secret of life. To make gold out of lead.

It is because of Love that Snape went from a man who was bent down, spying at
doorways, to a man who could make his own plan and literally fly on his own.

Let's see...Lily rejected her friend Severus, The Prince, for James, the Potter...Years later, Her son Harry loved the Prince's book so much he desperately hoped the Prince might be his Dad...isn't that a delicious bit of irony?

But Harry is still the magic mushroom for me. Think of all who were transformed by Harry, as agent-of-change. Dumbledore, Dudley, Dobby, Fred and George, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Sirius, Lupin, and probably others.

While I haven't undergone a personal spiritual transformation, reading 'Harry Potter' and puzzling out the ideas and discussing them over the years have brought about a shift in attitudes and perceptions. If it happened to me, then it's possible that Ms Rowling planted the seed in everyone who read the story. Millions were given a potential for change. So I return again to what I've said so often, though not so recently, that the alchemist is Ms Rowling, the Stone is Harry, and the process -Harry's story -

transforms us the readers.

The Doors - The Crystal Ship (classic version by George Winston)

Funny little things that happen in your life. I became friends with a young couple from California who ran away to Arkansas because the girl was pregnant and they were in love. Turns out they were involved with Jim Morrison and in some kind of big trouble over drugs. Jim and Julie. Funny the people that come in and out of your life. I wonder if you will meet them again and find out why.

They only come out at night

Signals...

The mind tends to ponder, reflect & decide,
on what happens in limbo at the end of this ride.
The subject is beyond what the senses detect,
who makes the crop circles and who can connect?

Those beyond this illusion are still here to provide,
signals and messages ...from the far other side.
It comes through those sensitive to the edge of the void,
crossing over to spirit ~ not a realm to avoid.

That place we must visit ...can't be just left to fear,
it's a look at your destiny when your mind becomes clear.
Those who have touched this and report back the facts,
are like guardian angels for the aware to contact.

What you've done with this life is all up to you...
see through illusion and toward a new view.
And when you are ready to gain the insight,
the 'secrets of all things' is revealed in clear light!

Learning to trust who I am

I started this blog with the intention of posting my deepest thoughts and sharing those with others, who may or may not be interested and reverberate to the words that I type down on this page. Along the way I lost my way and became convinced that anything I had to say was cheap and not worth posting them. I was an uneducated know nothing who could not possibly say anything that anyone else would ever listen to. A girl who loved to get her feet dirty.

I forgot the most important thing that a journal or a blog is all about. Learning to listen to yourself and learning about who you are inside. Taking all those thoughts swimming around in the endless stream of you and placing them here to look at. I was housecleaning my computer and came across several journal posts that never made it to this blog. But starting today they will and who cares if I can't put commas in the right spot or maybe use too many predicates, whatever the hell those are, I am writing to myself about myself to learn that inside me is someone I really love. And I should trust who I am and what I have to say.

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It ever was, and is, and shall be,

Ever-living Fire, in measures being

Kindled and in measures going out.

HERACLITUS

Been hunkered down here in the cold, frozen artic tundra of Chicago. Thinking and thinking some more.

Days of cold and special sadness. December 6^th was the 3 year anniversary of Meagan’s death. And I sat in my gloominess when I should have called and extended my heart to my brother. I didn’t and I missed an opportunity to do some good.

Today, of course is Pearl Harbor Day. Bob and I stood on the USS Arizona. Stood crowded shoulder to shoulder next to many Japanese. It felt eerie, but calming. All those dead men under our feet and here we were now standing together, sharing the pain and utter uselessness of killing each other. I made eye contact with an older Japanese gentleman and he sent me a look of warmth and a questing look of brotherhood.

Tomorrow is the 25^th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon. I find it incredibly hard to believe that it has been 25 years. Seems like only yesterday.

I have retreated to my books. Ran across my old dog-eared copy of the works of Annie Dillard. Sinking in to her writing is like sinking in to a warm bath. I return to her words constantly and find myself, my thoughts mirrored with hers. She simply writes in a daily journal style and her thoughts on this fire – this “life”.

“ I used to have a cat, an old fighting tom, who would jump through the open window by my bed in the middle of the night and land on my chest. I’d half-awaken. He’d stick his skull under my nose and purr, stinking of urine and blood. Some nights he kneaded my bare chest with his front paws, powerfully, arching his back, as if sharpening his claws, or pummeling a mother for her milk. And some mornings I’d wake in daylight to find my body covered with paw prints in blood; I looked as though I’d been painted with roses.

It was hot, so hot the mirror felt warm. I washed before the mirror in a daze, my twisted summer sleep still hung about me like sea kelp. What blood was this, and what roses? It could have been the rose of union, the blood of murder, or the rose of beauty bare and the blood of some unspeakable sacrifice or birth. The sign on my body could have been an emblem or a stain, the keys to the kingdom or the mark of Cain. I never knew as I washed, and the blood streaked, faded, and finally disappeared, whether I’d purified myself or ruined the blood sign of the Passover. We wake, if we ever wake at all, to mystery, rumors of death, beauty, violence…….”Seems like we’re just set down here,” said a woman to me recently, “and don’t nobody know why.”

The secret answer to it all is hidden in those few words. Life is thought. Life is all about how we perceive it. The simple secret answer is to be quiet and still and let the beauty come to you. You don’t need a preacher or a church, you only need yourself.

On my trips outside the past few days with the dogs, the hawk has been in one of the many trees in our yard. My eyes always find him. He is magnificent.

At night as I look up at the moon each night, it has been perfectly positioned on the top of our house with the two trees in the backyard silhouetting it. Off to the right is a big, buttery yellow star, that I think is Orion. To me it seems that it could be the Star of Bethelem. It twinkles and glows warmly at me. The moonshine shimmers over the snow, twinkling like a million other stars.

As Annie Dillard watched a mockingbird free fall thirty two stories to land with exact deliberate care and float onto the ground spreading his elegant wings with broad bands of white; the old philosophical conundrum about the tree that falls in the forest – and her thoughts which so mirror mine –

“The answer must be, I think, that beauty and grace are performed whether or not we will or sense them. The least we can do is try to be there.”

The internet must have 2 billion conspiracy web sites. I bet that I have visited everyone of them. Thought is a precious thing, a miracle. Why waste it and live in the reality of despair and hatred that is found there.

Just be happy –

For John –

“I still belive in love, peace .. I still believe in positive thinking. While there’s life there’s hope. I always considered my work one piece, and I consider that my work won’t be finished until I’m dead and buried, and I hope that’s a long, long time”

John Lennon 1980

We all Shine On

SCIENTIFIC PANTHEISM is the belief that the universe and nature are divine. It fuses religion and science, and concern for humans with concern for nature. It provides the most realistic concept of life after death, and the most solid basis for environmental ethics. It is a religion that requires no faith other than common sense, no revelation other than open eyes and a mind open to evidence, no guru other than your own self.

Heraclitus
 

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I love this message that was left at the youtube site:

The secret isn't in the sound itself, or the "geo"metric shapes it produces. The symbols themselves hint at the true construction of this planet, and the sound represents the planet being "Spoken" meaning vibrational sound, into its present hidden form.

Ahh, what the scientists don't tell you makes a "world" of difference...............

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I like this girl a lot. Check out her videos.

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I sure hope he makes it, he is very talented.