July 4, 2016
Have been spending free time on music. Working on a bunch of things at once. A bit here. A bit there. Putting together bass lines and second guitars (or actually first guitars: I usually write songs with the rhythm guitar as the accompaniment I play). So, I have to go back now and write bass and first guitars and whatever else there’s to be. Fortunately, the engineer has a good creative sense, makes interesting and appropriate production suggestions and is adventurous so we move forward at a good clip. I like his intensity. And he has a sense of humor. All good energy. So, it’s a pleasant experience.
This is what the angels have told me over and over. To call it, feel it, see it as play. Not to look at it as work. Don’t let it turn into work they’ve said so many times. So, I’m trying. It helps me to give myself deadlines that are at a reasonable pace. I, being a life path 6 (master number 33), on the path of responsibility, have a need to feel as though I am contributing something; thus, I am creating an artistic product, and my sense is that its manufacture needs to be managed and scheduled. I can’t see just drifting along. So, I do set myself dates with expectations of achievements to be accomplished. But, I make them reasonable and do it by an agenda for recording day that should be enough to fill the time with some left over. It keeps me moving toward finished product. So far, so good. If I spend my time profitably with each visit to the studio, then I feel motivated to carry on.
Hmmmm. Just went back and reread that paragraph. That doesn’t sound like play! I’m so crazy. Good lord. But, there is a part in there that’s play. The playing part. It’s really fun to play a new line of music. It’s fun especially when it sounds pretty and right. So, it’s that time when you’re first getting a new sound down and you’re finally able to play it correctly consistently. I love feeling the movement of a musical passage especially when it has a particular type of flow. It just feels good to play, like surfing a wave. I’m quite partial to progressive metal, Seattle sound, metal, punk rock . . . (I had to take a mental break to hear the lead from Perennial Quest in my head . . . love Chuck). That reminds me: I called out to Chuck Schuldiner and Duane Allman to help me with my leads. Now I just have to believe to receive. Now there’s the hard part.
I must admit, I’m not a shredder and find my leads to be slow ponderous things. If I were a shredder, I wonder what I would do with them? Well, I’m not a shredder so guess I’ll never know.
They get what I can give them. I thank the universe for helping me to do the creation justice. Let me find a pleasing line for it. I’m sure the divine leads me on beautiful paths, so I trust that all is well and what I have done and what I will do suits. So, I’ll listen into the darkness and see what I hear. That’s really fun too. The songwriting part is fun, although at times frustrating when you can’t get your fingers to do what your ear hears. But, it becomes something one way or another. God let me love it. If I love it, then I vibrate with love as I contemplate it or interact with the song, which by the way, like everything, has its own intelligent consciousness, it’s just like you in its understanding. The stuff I’m learning these days is just mind boggling. That particular concept just blows my mind. But, I believe it. There’s some pure beautiful word to be found in the world right now and it feels good to be in the thoughts those words reflect and produce.
So, I had had a plan to try to post a new song with each installment. My friend I sing with, Ames, suggested I make that little bit of uke music that I posted last month a theme song that plays every time. I liked the idea. And then I wanted to also add a new song each month. Didn’t quite make that target, but it reflects a target I may continue to choose and get better at. Or not. I will be able to add a song this month. It’s called Hideous Thing. I was standing by my dresser and the song beamed into my head like a lightning bolt. Weird experience.
The chorus came. I had to make up the verses, but I think I got help from the other side with the first verse: it came easy. The other two verses took time.
Tessa insists she wrote the bassline. She did write the kickass walk at the end, but I wrote the rest of it and made a couple variations at the suggestion of the engineer. The engineer did all the percussion, including the thing that makes the song truly hideous and exceptionally funny: there is cowbell on every beat in the song. Not kidding. It’s awesome. Not just more cowbell: the most cowbell. Cowbell max. King Cowbell.
(See End Note 1 for lyrics.) (©2016 Byrddesong Publishing)
This reminds me of Magenta’s line from Rocky Horror (“I’m lucky, he’s lucky, we’re all lucky”). Except in this case it’s hideous, instead of lucky. I suppose we are; I suppose we aren’t. I guess the message is if you can’t love yourself, you can’t love anybody else. Just said in a different way. If you say something enough times or in enough different ways, at some point it catches on, so I guess it was wanted that the teaching be shared again in a new way. So there it is. Love yourself. It changes the world for the better. Let yourself do things you love. Let yourself do things for fun.
I’ve been having really pretty good progress with that. I believe maintaining those basic practices helps. I remember I am strong and loved and there are angels always watching me, only because they like to watch me grow, not because they ever judge me. They do not. They do not wish for me to suffer, but they do wish for me to learn. So, I am protected. So are you. It’s perfectly fine to say that to yourself. It is true.
7/9/16 The Lesson of the Tower Card
I can’t help but try to figure out what it’s pointing to. Sweeping change. Something pretty significant and sudden. I’ve been waiting for the terrible news, but only good news came. I suppose it depends on your point of view. The Tower means something existing is being cleared so that something more resonant can enter. Things clear when they fall out of harmony with the vibration of the creation they are moving out of. To go elsewhere. At its most fundamental level of reality, change is a reshaping of a vibrational element of a picture of reality such that it resonates at a new harmonic frequency and thus becomes part of a different vibrational landscape, a different reality. This is what it could have been.
Honestly, I just don’t think my performance on one of the songs I did today meets the mark. It’s so very hard to hear oneself objectively. But, I know there’s someone out there whose vocal will connect more harmoniously with the song and keep its dark spirit but also sound pretty. My voice will not find a comfortable place in it that sounds pretty. If I were to bring it up into the pretty octave, I think it might improve it, but for the verses, the pretty octave is about a note beyond where I’ve told myself I can reach. Hmmm. Maybe I should get my voice just that one more jump up. And, then I can have perhaps another try before I seriously think about whom to ask to try the song. Hmmm. Decisions.
Very grateful to you, universe. Thank you for giving me ears and a guide. Oh, the guide (the engineer’s name is actually, Oh). And, Ames, the travel mate. Ames and I travel well together. We like the same things. Makes it easy. I experienced a milestone event on July 8, 2016. I sang harmonies with a person for the first time in my life and it went great because that person expended effort and came with true thought having been put into the music. What a completely lovely experience. Wow. It’s so hard to describe what it feels like to have been singing alone for so long and now to have the accompaniment of a lovely sense of melodic line with lilting complements, just enough to accent and fill out the sound, not so much as to overwhelm. I am sooooooo lucky!! Thank you, universe. You are so kind.
I have been greatly blessed. The companions on our path are the treasure of the quest. That and our own test of our own mettle.
I’ve been put to a test. Whenever I throw the Tower Card, my antenna goes up and my hand is poised at the alarm pull. I start throwing more cards to divine the nature of the Tower Card. What is it I should be looking for to avoid? Isn’t the Tower Card telling me whatever it is that is coming, is coming whether I like it or not?
Or is it? I had a great day. It was great in every way. I reconnected with a dear friend. A day spent making music and really trying to be clear. Trying to hear some truth of some kind. I am proud of my ability to be a good producer and listen. It’s not a case of knowing what I want to hear there in terms of feeling. All I know is that my voice isn’t finding it. It’s an accomplishment for me to be able to reach that understanding. So, we’ll keep trying until we get it or we find it. I thank the universe for keeping my ears objective and letting my soul choose clearly, for beauty, tone, feeling and harmonic resonance. Okay, now I can breathe. I keep holding my breath.
Breathe. Breathe. Feels so much better to do that. Breathe deeply.
Okay, let me synthesize this. The accepted meaning of the Tower Card is sudden, sweeping change– that puts you in a new place. It destroys what’s there and provides a clear space for a new and better world. Because that which was is gone. You can look back at it or you can look forward. The next card in the deck is The Star, one of the best cards in the deck: it says follow your dreams without censure, this is the card of the Creator. These are steps in a journey. These things that feel like loss. I cannot sing my song, I do not believe. I will not cling to it if I can’t do it justice. I want to hear it in a prettier way than my particular voice can accomplish, so I look forward to what the universe brings. New vistas ahead. By letting go, I gain.
Okay, so I think I just really worked myself into a huff over the Tower Card because I kept feeling concern about it and so kept calling it to myself because my focus was upon it. I made music instead for most of today and then moved on to the Star Card. Creating music for the last 2 days. Live harmonies with Ames yesterday and bass and drum recording and singing with Oh today. So nice. So good. Then seeing my friend, Ennis. Then dinner with the kids.
I’ve actually been throwing the Star Card quite often lately. And the Lovers. New fruitful partnerships. Two of cups too. (See End Note 2.) These are the cards of art and creation and partnerships (of all genders and types and races and species and interplanetary systems and realms).
Cardinals have virtually swarmed me lately. The animal world sends sign. A cardinal was making the biggest fuss on my doorstep the first day of my life that I sang a harmony with another person (yesterday). And two more crossed my path today. Red birds are lucky. And, they hang around and make sure I see them. Ted Andrews’ keynote says renewed vitality through recognizing self-importance. Recognize your importance they say. Okay.
Goodbye Tower. Hello Star.
Saw a woodpecker directly in front of this crazy cardinal on the stoop. Ted says of woodpecker: the power of rhythm and discernment. It is a totem of the shaman, the drummer who leads us to other dimensions. Fascinating.
Have shot arrows the last two days. I can’t believe how much better I got in just one day. I’ve found enormously good help on You Tube. The easy way to string a medieval long bow. Well, easy except it left a mark on my ankle. The correct stance that accounts for eye dominance (that information really helped). I did get a string burn from one early shot. But today was much better. No string burns and my shots were much more powerful and accurate. Two arrows cleared the fence into the neighbor’s yard.
There is something I thought of today about that neighbor. It was a dream I had probably 15 years ago. This neighbor was holding a red peony that had been bisected top to bottom and held opened in his open palms, so that I could see the cross section of the petals, as one would see layers in an onion. These neighbors detest me. The wife flicked my children the bird for a very long time when they were younger (as in elementary school and middle school). Yes, an adult woman chose to make that rude gesture to little children.
I thought of that dream image today. They are inviting me to love them. This must be the lesson they bring me. Love the unlovable. Forgive the unforgivable. Here in my own back yard is the opportunity. Okay, I’ll have to get to work on that. I’m not anywhere near there. My dislike of the woman is monolithic.
I will say this: I actually already have sent them Golden Orb Deeksha. Once. One night I had the urge to send it to all of my neighbors, so I included even the ones I don’t much care for. So, now, I’m going to send them Deeksha often. Things will get better.
All right. That’s an old weight I’ll bet I soon release. I’ll get to rise up lighter and higher. Love that!!
I saw another dragonfly hovering in front of my windshield today. I knew something good was coming. It signifies metamorphosis, and per Ted Andrews, the power of light.
I’m not sure how many things they hate me for, but I am fully aware of two: (1) I do not tend to my lawn, except to mow it; and (2) I am not a Republican. In fact, Tessa has a wonderful old Camry, a teenager’s beater car, covered in layers of bumper stickers on the back. Stop the Republican War on Women. I’m not a nugget (picture of cute little yellow chick beside this phrase). (It’s a Peta sticker.) (And, yes, Tessa does eat lots of chicken nuggets—in this, she is a total hypocrite!) Fish hippie. A Donald Trump profile with a line through it and the phrase STOP BIGOTRY. You get the idea. There are more, all of the same ilk.
I want to figure out how to print my own for her. Here’s one:
I am an environmental regulator. I know what lawn means: the waste of surface and ground water, which are precious and limited resources, and the contamination of surface water. It’s time to change our standard. To landscaping that does not require extra watering and in which fertilizer and pesticide are limited to ornamental (or vegetable) plants and is not broadcast widely over a large area, to then wash into the storm sewer in the next rain. Better yet, incorporate natural means to achieve the functions those chemicals perform. Use insect repellant plantings and compost.
Okay. I’ll step down from the soapbox now.
Last confession of the night and then off to bed. I’ve been squishing little tiny things that are gnat- like but bigger than gnats that are growing to a small swarm in any place with a supply of something sugary, like an old peach or a glass of flat soda. Have used palo santo to smoke them out and vinegar traps. It is what it is; no matter what level of enlightenment I seek, I’m not living in a swarm of bugs. I honor their consciousness, but they have to go.
ALERT: the universe just sent me sign. This morning at work I had to forward an email to a person I didn’t even know worked at my agency. She’s in a work unit I very rarely deal with (maybe once in 23 years), and she is receiving notices on behalf of her coworker who is out of the office. Her name is Irina. A name I had not ever seen before.
I recently felt guided to start work on writing a book about light working. So, I thought I would take a minute to Google it to see what books are out there to ensure I’m not covering old ground. I wound up on a website for a place in Syracuse where photographers can go to get support for their art projects: the website is lightwork.org. My search took me directly to the part of the site where they sell books of photographic prints. One of the photographers there (whose book was sold out) was named Irina.
Then, I wound up on the Alchemy of Light website for Llewelyn Vaughn-Lee. He is a British Sufi mystic who began following Sufism at 19: after meeting a lady named Irina Tweedie.
Okay. Antennae up. Three Irinas. All in the space of an hour. This is a trail of breadcrumbs. I will follow it.
So I’m watching Llewelyn Vaughn-Lee’s interview on Super Soul Sunday, and I am reminded of something I discovered recently in myself: I have sought for in men what only the divine can give me.
This is the reason I have “failed” so many times in my relationships with men. I say failed in quotes because nothing we do is ever a failure. We come to do as we do because the Divine set us free to experience free will in forgetfulness of our divinity. And, as this Oprah interview with Llewelyn Vaughn-Lee reminds me, God misses us. It is as though a part of himself, his child, has wandered from home, and He wonders, when will we ever come back. It is as though He stands on a porch, looking down a long empty road that disappears into the horizon, waiting for any sign of our return. Waiting and waiting for us to come home. This is also what they taught at the Oneness Golden Orb Deeksha course. For every part that we miss God, He misses us a thousand times more. While we ache for the Divine, we cannot conceive of the magnitude of the Divine’s ache for us and for our return home.
This is making me cry. I feel his feeling. I feel his longing for me. Feeling is a true path to him. I am not 8 minutes into this video and I am shedding tears.
According to Vaughn-Lee’s definition of Sufism. I am a Sufi too. I am a mystic too. A person who wants to completely lose themselves in God. He says you must crucify the ego to know God. Sufis are the slaves of God and the servants of humanity, Vaughn-Lee says.
Everything is God. I already knew this.
God is the pile of manure in the field. God is the wildflower and the firefly. God is the mosquito that brings the Zika virus and turns your baby into a microcephalic. God is the Zika virus. God is the bruised stripper whose felon boyfriend just beat her toddler to death. God is the felon boyfriend. God is the dead child.
God is the serial killer. God is the stalker. God is the suicide bomber. God is Osama bin Laden and Hitler and Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders and Oprah Winfrey and Winston Churchill and Mother Teresa and me and you.
This is hard in ways for me to understand yet also easy. God is everything and all there is. And, God is love. That part is easy. Now put that into practice with John Wayne Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer. That’s the hard part.
Spent yesterday at the beach reading a Robert Monroe book on astral projection and out of body experiences. Extremely fascinating. And, how’s this for a sign:
This little guy kept hanging around. He’d go away and come back. Three or four times. The last time he hung around for a very long time. Hopped on the cooler, the underside of the umbrella, the back of my chair, me.
I looked up what the metaphysical meaning of grasshopper is. Of course, you know, it had to be: astral projection. I’m calling it to me. I want to see other worlds. I’m fascinated. Robert Monroe’s experiences are so totally enrapturing. I am astonished by the amazing things he saw and learned while astral projecting. That is on the list to do very soon: go to the Monroe Institute and learn how to astral project. I want to be able to do it in a controlled way, like Bob Monroe did. I want to make purposeful journeys and to remember what I see and hear and learn and feel there. I think about this a lot. The grasshopper was telling me this is coming soon.
For now, I try to remember as much of my dreams as I can since I am actually in other dimensional planes having real experiences in at least some of my dreams. Dreams sometimes speak in symbols. I always try to decipher their meaning. Another fascinating venture. I dreamt of two dozen of the palest pink damask roses. Just barely pink. One wilting dozen and a second dozen. I was reminded of the color of these roses when I saw the cover of a New Yorker magazine from a year or so ago when I was at the auto repair shop today. It had a 4-paned cover with a flat sheet of paper that over the course of the 4 panes rolled up into a rose. It was the same very barely pink as the roses in my dream. It means new love.
New love. Is it love I presently have, or is this a predictive dream? I have certainly had my share of prescient dreams.
I believe I am finding a new love of myself. I have made a significant shift. I find my choices have changed. I have no tolerance for that which does not feel good. Pretty much none. So, when I am in the presence of that which does not feel good, I limit my involvement with it to the barest minimum and most of the time succeed in no longer allowing it to infiltrate my energy. I will not absorb it. I believe it’s called boundaries and I find I at last drew them around myself when I had had enough of the bitter diet of disrespect and abuse. I will no longer partake of those. When I encounter such energy, I turn off that channel and switch to one I like better. I sing a song. I look at a passing cloud. I breathe in rain heavy air. Count birds flying together overhead. Pet my dog. Eat a tomato sandwich. With Duke’s mayonnaise. And salt and pepper. Chew a piece of lemon gum. Enjoy earthly pleasures.
There’s a wait list for souls to get an Earth incarnation. I’m sure tomato sandwiches are one of the reasons.
If things don’t feel good, I find myself choosing other things to do instead that do feel good. I can’t go down those old paths I so often took, rutted, deep, wearing to traverse, wearying ways. I just can’t bring myself to expend the effort it takes to make those same old choices I made. I have learned!!!! Finally!!! Off the hamster wheel. Out of the cage. Oh, thank God it finally happened.
A sigh issues forth. Relief. I am at last choosing to be kind to myself.
I get to do things I like. This is a necessary step in the achievement of my soul purpose. I believe being of the highest possible resonance is one of the things I seek to do. That means letting myself do things I like and be with people whose company I enjoy. It seems so simple, but this understanding has somehow eluded me for decades. Duty consciousness has run me; now I choose joy consciousness as often as I am aware enough to do so.
So, maybe the new love the dream of the pale pink roses speaks of is love for myself. Not the love of myself, in which I compete for money, attention, all the prizes we’re raised to want; but love for myself. Oh, the difference in just one preposition. It’s the difference between care and competition.
Made some ambient music for someone dear to me who is a hypnotherapist who needed royalty-free ambient music for her practice. Some clients don’t care for wave or bird backgrounds to their hypnoses. I like both. I listen to them every night. I got a CD from The Monroe Institute that uses SAM technology. It is buried somewhere in a half hour of Morning Song Birds of Roberts Mountain. Sam is also the name of my friend who crossed over at 26. In the same store was a book called Rita’s World, A View from the Nonphysical. Rita was my friend who died a couple or three years ago: aneurysm. Mmm. So when I saw both their names in the same place I was reminded that they were telling me they are with me. I have the deepest love from two souls I love and adore. So, so insanely, maniacally funny, the both of them. So pure in vision. It brings tears. I feel them, I sense them. I look over my shoulder as though there is someone there. It so feels like it. My darling dears with me always. So funny. Keeping me calm with their presence. It’s some more magic, that’s for sure. I am the Magician. It is a state of mutual making. I make you and you make me. If you can see me, if you are seeing this: you made me. And if you see this, I am seeing through you. I find this all rather boggling, but it seems quite correct, even if mind bending.
As above, so below. We are eternal and have all of everything to make our magic with. The canvas upon which we make our world is thought. Have you thought about what you think? Is it about the world you would create? If not, put your focus there and take action accordingly. This is what I distill from all the reading I’ve done into how to climb higher in spirit. I have an overriding impulse to climb higher and higher. That must be why I saw that picture of alpacas today. It’s gotten too cold for them where they are and they are dying. In the physical earth, a possible symptom of global warming. In spiritual meaning, is there a time to stop climbing? Does the air get too cold and thin? Hmm. Wonder how high a vibration a physical body can maintain?
Speaking of mind bending, there is a delightful and earnest lady from Arkansas with a great passion for uncovering the secrets of the universe. She says we eventually turn into light and won’t need food. (Lilou said to her never to tell that to the French, as they love their food.) Her name is Dolores Cannon. I have learned quite a lot of interesting things from her. I can’t quite take it all in. It’s a lot. She looks like a sweet Southern Baptist church lady who makes a mean lemon pie and goes to Wednesday Supper. But, she actually has conversed with the living Nostradamus (he’s never died, nor have we, nor will we). I mean, she put on her travelling shoes and went. Very fun to watch and read her stuff. I love the mysteries she has revealed. Fun. Like crazy. It is crazy, but oh my God, the truth of what is, being something entirely different than that which I was raised on appeals to me greatly. It is much more lovely, easy, bountiful, giving, but truly, not with any less love. Everything that ever was was filled with love. I’m channeling this. This doesn’t feel like me.
Hmmmm. Is that you, J? I read the Sanaya Roman and Dwain Parker book on learning how to channel. It worked. I found the person who spoke to me was the man himself: the big J. He started out talking to me about King Something or Other in the Middle East (obviously name would not stick in my head: too different from what I know how to remember, no easy reference point to hang onto it with). This went on for one session and a couple written paragraphs. I was not about it. I’m not one for politics. I just could not see listening to that stuff.
So then he started kidding around with me and being pretty much of a teenager in humor. Sarcastic. Silly. Speaks in accents. Very fun and funny. And, you know, he just hangs out. I feel his presence sometimes. Pretty much if I look for it, it’s there. It’s a matter of how often I look for it, with the so many other things I choose to accomplish and so focus my attention upon in a day. Sometimes I drift. I guess that makes me a fish hippie per Tessa’s fish hippie bumper sticker.
Had to take a song break. That was fun. I do so love to hear a new song coming in. That must be why I dreamt of a mother last night. In my dream she was a relative of a man I know by his great power. She made soap on a rope. It was a light pink and carved into flower shapes. Absolutely beautiful. And she had a pure and strong energy.
Very focused on her creating, and peaceful in spirit. Everyone bathed in this soap. Including me. I cannot describe how good and light I felt. Free in heart, everywhere I looked and everything I saw, seeing only freedom and feeling only good and goodness, happiness, curiosity free to wander and discover. A beautiful feeling as Tommy James put it. (Crystal Blue Persuasion: a truly blessed piece of peace.) (And, I’m putting in a plug for Draggin’ the Line: love that song, listened to it bunches and I’ll listen to it again. Right now in fact.)
. . . . okay. Enjoyed the song oasis.
Back to swimming. Alpacas. They reminded me of a story from my story of a time that is now some time ago, the song I posted above, Hideous Thing, is the only song for which I had someone look at me square in the eye with the judgment of it being ridiculous. That was the meaning the eye lock held. It is exactly the type of energy the song is talking about. I didn’t really see that until now. From the moment I understood that lady’s meaning that day I played at the farmers market where the alpacas were, I’ve been too busy taking in that judgmental energy and making it my world. For that reason, I didn’t used to like the song. But, Oh plucked it out of the dozen or so tracks done enough for finishing. Nice that he heard it and showed love for it. Kind of him. It’s easy to see maker in him. That was the first one we got finished enough to post out of this bunch of songs I’m doing with him.
Funny, I like it a lot now. Although that consideration is not material to my decision to proceed. If it’s channeled and it wants finishing, I’ll take care of business. I trust that the source that sends the inspiration for music is divine in nature and it’s very nice of whoever is taking the trouble to do it so I do make it my goal to get them all done—every song that’s ever been sent to me; it’s just that so much has been sent and there are but so many hours in the day . . . I feel like Alice running head long into the wind and staying in exactly the same place. I guess that’s okay too. Exactly as I am, where I am.
Anyway, the news item I saw on the death of the Alpacas from the cold is telling me that old, cold feeling I associate with them is passing.
So I finally figured out an interesting clairvoyant song experience after right about 4 years of the time the song entered my head. When I was still in major recuperation mode from my learning of the end of my marriage, a song came into my head in my sleep. (As it did last night as well, but I do not remember the melody from last nite.) For this song from 4 years ago however, one part of the song (the melody and lyric for the chorus) filled my head as I awakened one morning so I was able to remember it, as it was present when I was moving into waking thought.
The song is called Convenience Store. My life events had to catch up to the song. I awoke one morning with “in the convenience store, in the convenience store” stuck in my head (melody included). I thought it was the weirdest thing. A song about a convenience store? It took awhile for the rest of the song to come, but when it did, I could tell something not so good happened in this convenience store. Here’s the song:
The lyrics are:
Can’t bear it anymore
Can’t bear it anymore
Can’t bear it anymore
I’m going through the door
I’m going through the door
Gonna blow it all away
It’s gonna end today
In the convenience store
In the convenience store
In the convenience store
In the convenience store
Angels are here.
Angels are here.
Can’t bear it anymore
Can’t bear it anymore
I’m going through the door
I’m going through the door
There’s nothing for me anyway
This gun communicates
In the convenience store
In the convenience store
In the convenience store
In the convenience store
Angels are here.
Angels are here.
So, I looked at the lyrics and figured it was about somebody losing it and shooting up a convenience store. I’ve read so many times that we choose our death (usually we plan several exits and go when we’ve done as much as we can with our soul purpose). So, besides the fact that angels and helpers from other realms are always with us, when we die they come to us. So, that’s what I figured the song was about. Another person who freaks out and goes and kills a bunch of people in a convenience store.
Well, turns out I was wrong. The song was about my friend who’s in prison. Last week, I went to his sentencing and testified as a character witness for him. Turns out, he robbed 4 convenience stores (well, 3, he went back to one twice) for speedball money. All in one week’s time. A switch flipped and that’s where the energy of needing to use took him. Over and over again, like crashing waves in the worst part of the hurricane. The song was about him. He put his hand in his pocket and made like a gun.
Addiction: a challenging illness to experience–sick, helpless, judged and jailed. God’s love to everyone involved. Judge and judged. Helpless and mighty. Victim, victims. Creator, creators. Everyone involved is walking the path of the soul.
We are here to transform energy. Somehow these stories get us there. Love in all things. All things love.
I dreamt of a mother making pink soap shaped like flowers on a rope. Another kind of rope to climb up from the bottom of the dark well, into love, with its beautiful pink sweet light and fragrant air. A mother’s love for the child in us is purifying. Do I mother myself with as pure an intention as I’ve felt for others? It is time to consciously choose to do so. There is power in that. No wonder that dream was sent to me again. As I dreamt it, I realized I’d dreamt of her before—making pink flower soap.
Loving the child we are helps us heal from those ailments of the soul that keep us making choices that hurt and cause pain. We feel safe when we understand and are aware of this relationship with ourselves and when we are aware we are child and parent. When we understand we are vulnerable and that it’s safe to be vulnerable with ourselves because we have the power to act as a loving parent and make choices that show love, understanding and respect for our truth. Choices that ensure we surround ourselves with a loving environment free of toxic experience. If it takes toxic experience for us to gain this understanding, then it is certainly a meaningful lesson. When we finally come to understand we are our own child, our own parent, our own protector and mentor, then we step onto the path of trust and with that trust comes the feeling of safety that allows us to explore our full potential.
I have had a pretty crazy leap of understanding. I went to my favorite new age book store and did a shamanic journey with a really amazing shaman. I took Marie and Tessa and her friend Anna with me. It was a profound evening for all of us.
I set my intent to receive a journey for my highest and best good. I have engaged in many shamanic journeys at this point. I like them very much, even when I see things that scare me. I always learn something. This one was the weirdest. I started out seeing a big lightning storm at night in a field with just a single tree. I saw many spirit animals on this journey: a black panther, a spotted jaguar, a black Persian house cat, a fox, a rabbit, a butterfly and a bear. The big cats were making so much noise. The rabbit was quite scared. The butterfly sat upon its ear. I saw the panther had attacked a child. I thought about killing it with an arrow, but I didn’t want to harm it, so I hit it with a rock and rescued the child. The child died, saw the angels and then came back to life.
In shamanic journeys, I find the story makes hard crazy changes, similar to the movement of dreams, so I next wound up as the young exiled Indian girl from my first past life regression. The shaman doing the drumming guided us through a meadow to a forest to a mountain to a cave to start the journey. Strangely, I also at the same time saw a very large male Indian. Whereas I was in the mountains of Virginia in deciduous forest; the male was in the Pacific Northwest. I saw a coniferous forest and Mount Rainier. When the shaman guided us to enter the cave, both the male and female Indian were at the mouth of the Virginia cave and entered together. They were dressed in traditional garb: brown animal skins. Inside the cave was a pool with clear water upon pink quartz that was lit from the bottom. The male and female Indian became one light that was a beam in the center of this pool. Then they resumed human form at the edge of the pool. He wanted physical union with her. She felt resistance and anger. This anger was quite strong. And, I watched this scene and felt her anger for what seemed like a very long time.
Then, strangely enough, I saw Noah’s Ark, upon the great water, and upon it was the hermit, from the Hermit card in the Connolly tarot deck:
I was in the water and there were hammerhead sharks. I was not liking that at all.
I also wound up going to the void: the black place where there is nothing at all.
I returned to the cave. The female submitted. After some time the energy seemed to transform from submission to acceptance.
When the shaman started the call back rhythm with his drumming, the male and female emerged from the cave and very strangely were dressed in wedding garb: she was in white. He knelt before her, in service.
I saw that the big cats circled the rabbit in protection of it; the rabbit’s energy had transformed from fear to awareness.
I realized that the male Indian was also me. I think this must be part of why I have been throwing the Lovers card so often lately. I believe I experienced some sort of merger of my male and female energy.
It was a weird experience and I set my intent before bed to have dreams that would clarify what had happened. This is where it gets even stranger. And, it explains why I’ve been throwing the 7 of swords so regularly.
The 7 of swords depicts someone sneaking away with stolen goods and thus is the card of deceit, deception, lying, thievery. (And, due to the droppage of the 2 swords in the picture, it also can mean the unexpected, things not working out as you’d planned, which also applies to the situation at hand.)
After I had awakened (that is, became aware that I am an eternal consciousness), and during the time of my divorce, one of the forms of therapy I undertook to get through those dark days was inner child healing. That consisted of guided meditation in which I recognized that I have an inner child always within me and in which I comforted this child. I have to say of all the weird spiritual activities I’ve undertaken, that was one of the most difficult. I don’t know why I had such a hard time accepting the whole concept, but my bullshit meter really went off and it took some time for me to get over thinking the whole thing was ridiculous. I will say, though, it turned out to be one of the most healing things I ever did. So now, when my bullshit meter gets pegged, I know there might be something good for me in it and not to judge.
Well, that night, I dreamt of a baby boy who was not mine who kept wanting to nurse me. I also dreamt of a man at a mall who had come with my friend Ames (the one I sing with). He was a baby and a man at the same time and kept wanting to get back in a stroller. He wanted my phone number. And I did not trust him. I thought he was weird and dangerous. There was a father who was sick of it. There was an older girl for whom I had gotten a gift, something she already had. I did not trust the girl either. I felt the energy of untrustworthiness.
So what do I make of this? Just as I was male and female in my shamanic journey, so too, I have a male and female inner child. There are two inner children, not just one. And, I have until now never recognized the male inner child within myself, despite his desire to connect with me. He is starving. I did not know he was there, needing to be fed. Inner children who are unrecognized feel unloved, unsafe and abandoned. They become sabateurs. You know all those times you wonder why you wreck yourself? Why you make choices that are just plain bad for yourself, despite being an otherwise intelligent, rational human being? That’s attributable to a pissed off inner child. I have had many struggles with my singing and at times my voice has just quit right in the middle of a song; I believe I see where the sabatage may be coming from. The untrustworthiness comes from a part of myself.
I learned from my inner child work years ago the importance of remembering that I am a child and to parent myself with love and understanding. To be as good to myself as I am to my real life children. But I always only ever saw myself as a female mothering a daughter. I see now that in fact, I also am a father parenting a son. And a father parenting a daughter and a mother parenting a son. I’m sure integration and harmonization of the male and female energy within is a major milestone on the path of spiritual evolution. I cannot believe it took this long for me to get here. Oh, well, at last, here I am. In yet another new weird place, wondering what to do next.
- I am a hideous thing. I am hideous. Hideous. Hideous. Hideous. I am the glowering tone, the veiled insult, the noncommittal ambiguity, that makes it hard for you to see. Friend or foe. You never know quite which. I am a hideous thing. I am hideous. Hideous. Hideous. Hideous. I am your trash talking girlfriend. Dishing it. Shoveling it. To dig your grave. Don’t try to save yourself. Try to defend. I’ll push you in. I am a hideous thing. I am hideous. Hideous. Hideous. Hideous. I am malignant judgment. Death row, where you’re meant to go. You’re hideous. You’re hideous. You’re hideous. Hideous.
I must admit, I think I prefer the Connolly deck. My friend, Lily, introduced me to it and it has a gentleness about it that I like. Sometimes the Rider Waite feels a tad harsh. (For example, The Devil: he looks like a crazed goat man, maniacal and determined to harm.) (And, to top it all off, he has bird feet—very creepy.)
The Connolly image takes an entirely different approach.
It focuses on our bondage to the material world and our losing the path– with the light behind us, out of our sight, we are chained to things, and the skies are gray and stormy. So, it’s still not a happy card, but its message is to get some perspective, you’ve lost your spiritual clarity around whatever situation the cards are discussing with you.
The Rider Waite image is so creepy I have a hard time assessing it from my own place of feeling, but I think it’s about bondage and maybe temptation and lack of self-awareness (see how the chains could be slipped right off but they’re not seeing that?). Maybe it’s about the hell that lack of awareness brings to your experience.
I find I get the 4 of Cups and The Devil card together in the same reading sometimes.
Not seeing what is there: be it the easy path to freedom (Devil card) or the golden cup offered, missed for self-absorption (4 of Cups), the oblivion of conditioning that lack of awareness brings. Not being in the moment, not being dialed in. Floating. Lost in thought. (4 of Cups). Obsessed or obsessive, and thus also out of touch with the beauty of the world (Devil). Just missing the obvious. I am famous for this. Most of us are. I set my intent to awareness. I wish to be the energy of awareness.