Posted by: modernmysticmusings | June 16, 2013

Vortexes and funnel clouds

This morning I woke up from an incredible dream.  It was dense and details.  I’ll try to recapture it here:  Originally I was with my two grown sons, at the front of a very large garage, which was apparently part of my & my present husband David’s home.  It was a large building, and as I’m recounting it now, it reminds me of the airplane hangers by our local little airport, but it was filled with garage like stuff.

I was talking with them about something and I think they were going to their dad’s to work (which is the current situation now) and there was something I said or offered that I got a slightly contemptuous response (which happens rarely now but used to be often).  I think I looked upand in the distance was this absolutely ENORMOUS funnel cloud.  It was something everyone was anticipating.  The feeling was that it was an energy event rather than a tornado.  But still some people were concerned about it.  I asked them to bring their dad into our home (now this could have been the offer I had made earlier, so much happened in the dream and I only just recalled this part).

They did, and our home turned out to be much darker than the garage (it was light blue or white and the door was open, and filled with different tools).  The house was dark, brown wood, and a 1970’s construction, big picture window so you could see the funnel cloud approaching, and open floors, open stairs to the different floors, although the back of each floor had rooms and hallways.

The kids were upstairs with their dad, and by this time they were younger, 6-10 years old, playing with him sitting on the floor.  At some point I was out talking with a neighbor, her house matched the architecture of our garage, outside it was bring sunlight, her house was nice and large and bring, she was a cross between this woman in Cabin John who had a Bischon Frese that David & I used to talk with when walking Basil and Emma, and my old friend Tani Erickson who was a realtor on the island (and flight attendant, and mortgage banker, I knew her a long time).

Back in the house, I checked on the kids, the lights flickered or went out, so I went down stairs to bring up flashlights.  I was on the main floor, picking up a couple flashlights when a group of people started trouping in.  They all were seeking refuge, there were adults and children, and in the dream I knew who they were, they were like from a local church or something, but I don’t know them upon waking (i.e. now).

I sent them upstairs and started looking for candles for them, and at some point a 3 or 4 year old boy came downstairs to get candles and I handed him a bunch of long, skinny ones, but then I thought we’d run out of candles so I was trying to break them in half so we’d have twice as many.  He got upset with me for trying to take them so I couldn’t get scissors or a knife, so I bent them, which kind of messed them up (and they didn’t break, because the string needed cutting, so they just, you know, the wax broke in several pieces).

Oh, I think then I was alone downstairs and, no wait I’d been downstairs looking for a *camera* to take a picture of the funnel cloud as it approached, and then I realized I’d spend so much time looking for it or candles or whatever that I totally missed watching for it, and the funnel cloud was moving through my house! Actually, through one side of the house, I walked so close I could touch it but thought better of it.  That’s when I think the lights went out and I switched to finding flashlights, then the people came in so I switched to finding candles because I thought the children especially would be comforted by having something to hold (awake I think, oh, yeah, give children lit candles, that’s smart).

Anyway, woke up and it was really late, and I’m in this dreamy state, and aware of all the energetic implications of this dream, symbolizing consciousness, transformation, my inner and outer states, people in my space, etc.  And the day is lovely and warm, was very aware of the communication of trees.  My husband left late to go to see friends in Seattle, my son isn’t awake yet upstairs, my dog would like a walk (although she’s been out already) and I’m torn between sitting on the deck where outside is beautiful but the chair is uncomfortable, and going inside where it’s 10 degrees cooler but the sofa is comfy.  And it would be a perfect day to record a video but not until I’ve showered (bed head is not becoming on a 54 year old woman).

But first I was waiting on hubby to go, now I’m waiting on son to wake up, how I shape my life around other people.

Great, heart opening affinity going on.  But tinged with telepathic connects of everyone else.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | November 3, 2012

5 minutes

5 minutes isn’t long enough to formulate thought although I had an accumulation of them from earlier today that are now all mired together.
I had that yesterday morning as well, when walking to Clara Barton to exercise. I’d wanted to contemplate a topic for my Ezine, but trying to access Spirit felt like being enveloped in Saran wrap.
A prevalence of thick, lower vibration(s). So much going on in the world, in this section of the country, in this family.
I just remembered one thing I wanted to talk about.
My husband’s doing a Buddhist compassion meditation where he feels all the sadness & suffering in the world and visualizes light towards them all.
As an empath, I feel this when he’s doing it – regardless of whether I’m in the same house or 10 miles away.
I didn’t know he was doing it, I just knew at times I would be overwhelmed with grief and non-functional. Difficult when we were meeting with the hospice nurse and he was downstairs meditating.
Thing is, I don’t feel the light. I just feel the suffering. And my plate is already full.
So I’m thinking. If you were married to a diabetic, would you fill your kitchen with sugary desserts? Maybe a better analogy is allergic to peanuts, and be making peanut butter.
It’s not pleasant.
Why not send out good feelings along with the light?
Being an empath is like living in an apartment building with too thin walls and hearing all your neighbors.
And having a partner who insists on doing drumming sessions as part of their spiritual practice.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | October 23, 2012

Enter Title Here

This morning I watched Ellen DeGeneres’ Commencement speech to Tulane’s 2009 “Katrina Class”. She mentioned two pivotal points of her life, one of which launched her first career, and another when she lost everything, prior to her current talk show. She said that even if she lost everything now, she’d still have herself.

I’ve been through similar times, one when my first marriage ended, and the second is now. I’ve been reflecting on these losses while I’m holding space as my mother dismantles her life.

Ironically, I lost the first draft of this post, which had some very eloquent prose about these losses (both my mother’s and mine).  I’d been thinking I’d have to edit the draft anyway, because it revealed things that perhaps should be kept back at this time.

I admired how my mother managed to rebuild her life after the devastation of divorce.  She got my little brother through high school, and held down a ‘government job’ through to retirement.  However she also never got married again, so she never quite regained the social (or financial status) from before.  She quietly and modestly maintained ties with her kids and grandkids, sent generous checks at birthdays, Christmas and in times of need.

I’m keenly aware how unfair it is that her life is ending this way, and how I’m the only kid who’s fallen on the sword…

But my tipping point came on the 12th when my ex had 3 cardiac arrests and was ‘non responsive’.  Our sons went to be with him.  My youngest called me before he flew there, I called the other and caught him in during a layover in Denver on the way there.  They both told me they’d call the next day.  I didn’t hear anything until the 15th, so I spent the weekend not knowing if they’d pulled the plug or what.

I’ve been able to do what I’m doing with Dorothy, because my kids had somewhere to go for holidays.  Suddenly, in anticipation of their father being dead, I’d have to figure out how to be there for  them.  We could fly out for Thanksgiving, because my brother’s coming down, but Christmas he’s in Taiwan.

It really impacted me, that I have no base, and nothing to give from.  I’m in the process of losing everything, and helpless to watch my kids about to lose everything, too.

But then, Monday, I heard he’d made it (I’d done Matrix, send out requests on FB for healing & prayers), but was still unconscious, so it wasn’t known the extend of the damage.

I started writing this I think before I heard again, on the 21st, that he’d woken up.  They figured out he’d either had a pulmonary embolism or an infection which had caused the cardiac arrest.  However he had no memory of anything, even going to the hospital.  It’s like he’d fallen asleep on a Thursday and woke up eight days later, in the hospital with tubes in him and too weak to walk.

Miraculous that he’s made it, frustrating because I’d hoped he’d have a groovy Near Death Experience and come back a changed man.  Instead he’s in the same denial he was when it happened, which will make all the lifestyle changes all the more painful and difficult to adopt.

Who knows.  Anyway, I asked for the kids to call me when they move him to Rehab, which should be today.  It’s understandable that they haven’t been more communicative, it’s been a roller coaster ride.  I’ve emailed & texted, but I wished I could do more.

Tying back to the start of all this…

I want to be a more stable parent, I want to have a place where my grandkids can come visit.  I want to be in a position that I can fly to wherever either kid is to visit them.  I want to be able to provide more.

I can’t be like my mom, the ultimate stabilizer.  I couldn’t hunker down and handle a government job for so many years.  I can keep being an entrepreneur and intend to create something from that…

There’s a phase of life when people start thinking about legacy and what they’re leaving behind.  I feel like whatever I’ve created so far has evaporated.  I value experiences over material things, I value human interaction, I prioritize my mother and my kids (I don’t know if they know it)…

anyway, I lost the emotional thread of this post a long time ago.  I’m just blathering now.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | September 30, 2012

Health, Judgement, Projections

Someone commented on diabetes as ‘an entirely preventable disease’. I think they were commenting on adult onset, diet controlled, but it also was a criticism.

When the person died (of emphysema, actually), they said ‘they would miss [them], but not mourn.”

Which really pissed me off, although I understood. There’s been several passages this month, and many of us have struggled with our own health problems.

Back in 2003 I had about 6 months of uncontrolled bleeding, which doctors initially feared was cancer and turned out to just be a fibroid. However, the ensuing roller coaster ride was the same. The tumor was golfball sized when they found it in May and softball sized when they looked again in August. They wanted to do surgery (civil war medicine: cut first & cauterize the wound).

No one could understand why I resisted. It was standard surgery, no big deal, 1 out of 5 women by the age of 65 will have had this same surgery (for non-cancerous reasons).

Back then there were fewer options but I wasn’t given any of the other ones by the medical profession. I had to research & find out on my own.

Long story short, I went totally alternative, diet and acupuncture, and the tumor shrank. The bleeding finally stopped when I stopped taking the prescription they’d given me for the bleeding (turns out it was what was causing my tumor to *grow*) and when I started taking iron – because I was ANEMIC from the blood loss.

In 2005 I had a mini-roller coaster ride when they found a mass in my breast and a cyst on my ovary. I went in for an ultrasound and a CT scan on the same day and the results were inconclusive. It so pissed me off that I haven’t been back to a doctor.

In 2006 I discovered that my left hip, which I had thought was higher than the other because the leg was longer (a naturapath/chiropractor had said something like that in 1997) had a fatty lump on it. I’m pretty certain it’s the same thing that two of my dogs have had.

So I avoid soy, yogurt, meat and poultry, anything that would affect my hormone balance and make the fibroid grow. I’m careful about my black tea intake since that seems to affect my breast lumps. The ovary aches once in a while, that could be because of ovulation. I’m 53 and any moment now I’ll go into menopause, so most of these problems will go away.

In this journey with my mother’s Alzheimer’s and two different kinds of cancer, I’ve learned so many things. Like her original prescriptions – a blood pressure medicine was given because she had ocular migraines. But she’s always had low blood pressure. We stopped it when she started hospice and a) she’s had no migraines and b) her blood pressure has averaged 110/60 every week.

Her cholesterol medicine, a nurse told me they prescribe it because they don’t think people will bother adjusting their diet. She’s been off that for 10 months as well.

I think they prescribe standard medicines when people get into their 50s when dietary changes would be better for them.

I learned from hospice nurses that there’s such things as ‘radiation and chemo induced cancer’. The original cancer is treated successfully by radiation and/or chemo, but the treatments cause cellular changes which stimulates new cancers.

I wonder if the radiation caused my mother’s additional tumors and gave her the raised marker for breast cancer. I wonder what would have happened if I’d refused the radiation and tried alternative methods.

Because here she is, still walking around and for the most part taking care of her self, 10 months after being put on hospice. Her Alzheimer’s has advanced, and some of that is due to a procedure I put her through thinking it would help her.

My judgment of the medical profession is no different than someone’s judgment of diabetes being entirely preventable.

Whose to say if having a super healthy diet would prevent all disease. People can still drop dead of torn aortas, undetectable things. Cancer is environmental as well.

How can one sister die of breast cancer in her 60s and another live to 97 with nothing at all (that I know of, could be she just didn’t talk about it).

How can we say early detection saves lives when sometimes people die of the treatment rather than cancer. Surgery, chemo, radiation weakens already weakened immune systems. If the tumor is slow growing why not take a couple months on a total alkaline diet first?

There are bigger reasons people create things. Many capable women who are used to taking care of everyone and everything, end up in the hospital because they don’t take car of themselves or resist being taken care of.

Whose to say why someone choses to exit early or exit a particular way for a particular reason? Dying is not a bad thing, short lives aren’t less valuable than long ones. Some lives are marathons, some are sprints.

There’s more to say about all of this, but it’s time for me to go home…

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | September 23, 2012

All the people

This morning I watched a video by Jacob Barnett, age 13, math genius. At age 9 he expanded on Einstein’s theory of relativity. He’s now an astrophysicist.

However, at age 2 he was diagnosed as autistic; his parents were told he would never speak, never learn. He has some humorous comments about this, but I wonder about all the other autistic children out there who are stuck in special ed classes, not able to sneak into college classes or express their potential.

I flashed on Jill Bolte Taylor, a brain scientist who had a stroke. She was able to recover and write a book about her experience, but I think about all those other stroke victims out there being treated as vegetables, when there’s a conscious human being inside.

A year or so ago I read about a couple in Australia who were allowed to hold their stillborn fetus, and after an hour or so, it came back to life. I can’t find the link to that story, but in searching for it came across this one, a mother in Argentina went to say goodbye to her stillborn infant and found it alive in the morgue three hours later. I think about all those babies out there who just need a little more time to start breathing, that are discarded by hospitals.

This is a far reaching topic. People whose validity and intelligence are dismissed by their differences, infants who aren’t expected to live, people who are seen as vegetables because they’re in a coma… how many people have the plug pulled on them because they’re considered ‘brain dead’?

Human potential marginalized and institutionalized or, worse, let die.

But that is me, viewing humanity, from the human level. That’s invalidating Spirit, and the infinite power and potential in each individual. Each one of us is Infinite and Powerful, and we create our circumstances, including being born, and how we die. None of us are victims, but neither are we to blame for what befalls us (because there isn’t any fault to be blamed).

If we live only moments, or aren’t even born, that’s what we designed for our present incarnation. If we have a stroke, go into a coma, and have the plug pulled on us, that’s how we chose to exit. If we’re a genius trapped within a body that cannot communicate or function, we designed that dilemma.

We are more powerful than who we are, and what we manifest. We are the playwright, the director, and the actor. And when we have exited the stage, and shuffled off this mortal coil, we won’t be gone. We’ll be more of who We are, we’ll fully integrate into our Expanded Self, back into the sea of Universal Love.

We will be more alive (Allison Dubois says ‘they say we’re the dead ones)!

You don’t need to wait until you pass to experience that aliveness. This is encouragement to get out there and live that way here and now. Live as your Expanded Self manifesting through this body with all it’s wonderful imperfections. Be compassionately detached from other’s creations, as they are Infinitely Powerful, too.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | September 12, 2012

Ideas to Blog About

I’ve started this 30 day challenge and already I cannot stand it.
Today’s assignment was 10 Top Tips (I wrote 4 Reasons Why I’m Not Writing A Commercially Focused Blog)
The 2nd email was “Ideas To Blog About”
If you don’t have any ideas and just want to be a blogger, don’t.
It’s like wanting to be a painter but can’t think of what to paint.
Wanting to be a musician but not playing an instrument, or a composer with no idea for a tune.
An Actor with no interest in auditioning or memorizing lines.

When I published the last post, WordPress put up a quote from Isaac Asimov, “Writing Is Just Thinking With Your Fingers”.

If you can’t think with your fingers, don’t write.

On the other hand, my husband, who’s an architect, photographer, and model railroad enthusiast (& Tibetan Buddhist), is a pretty fair writer. It just takes him forever to put out a paragraph. Like all day. Or several days. He’s a muser and a scribbler and then his paragraph comes out sounding really good.

Me? If it makes it through spellcheck, it gets published. But I edit as I go along. The other day I wrote a post and actually changed sentences around.

The whole point of doing this challenge was to write more. I’d been doing 1 blog entry a week, for my Mystic Musings Ezine (posted on my Adventures In Density & Effort blogger blog), and about 1 blog entry a month on my Surrender Dorothy: Adventures in Alzheimer’s and Dementia.

I started my weekly Mystic Musings back in 2003 when I was recovering from having a fibroid that caused uncontrolled bleeding for 6 months. I manage to treat it alternatively and avoid a hysterectomy (the *only* solution given by Western Medicine at the time). But I looked at why I grew a golfball sized tumor on my uterus (which grew to softball sized in 2 months due to Western Medicine prescribed treatment) in the first place. Women get fibroids at all ages, but mostly in their 40s, medically due to hormonal fluctuations and they go away at menopause.

We grow tumors on our uteruses when we stop growing babies. I looked at how I was expressing my creativity, how I never finished my 3rd novel, and decided to start writing again. My weekly Ezine Mystic Mysings was the result.

(I’d also stopped journaling, and really didn’t start doing that again until now).

Taking care of my mother, I’ve had a resurgence of bleeding problems, nothing like the horrible 6 months back in 2003. I’m now 53 and had regular periods until I started caring for my mother. I’d controlled it by diet; not eating soy, yogurt, too much dairy, no meat or chicken, nothing with hormones…

This previous year I’ve had weeks of spotting, some of which I can point to eating a yoghurt, drinking chai lattes almost daily (=lots of milk), being anemic (it clears up when I take Flourodix iron daily).

But it also points to blocked creativity. My work has slowed, I’ve suspended my radio show, I’m no longer putting out marketing emails, tweets & FB posts 3-5x a week.

Instead I spend way too much time on FB & Twitter in between cajoling my mother to take her meds, use oxygen, or go for a walk (we were doing “field trips” 1x a week, but this last procedure really set her back).

This week I’ve noticed having zero connection to Source, but I suspect that’s because my Aunt died and I’m in the swirl of the collective family’s vibration… most of whom are very religious, devout, practicing Christians (at least 4 ministers, off the top of my head)… but that’s a different focus.

God vs Source is a different blog post. Hey, an idea for Friday’s Mystic Musings.

Time to get my mother dinner.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | September 9, 2012

Poverty Of The Mind

This morning on FB a woman in Israel posted this trailer for a movie coming out next month. “The Line” explores the poverty line, where people living below struggle to rise above, where people above struggle not to fall below.

Some ignorant snot, I assume in Europe, said something to the effect that their poverty wasn’t about money but about not being awake.

The movie triggered memories for me, when a white, formerly middle class, guy goes ‘shopping’ at the Food Bank.

At the Food Bank on Vashon, when I first went there, they gave out bags of food. Larger families got bigger bags. I’d lie about how many kids I had so I could get a gallon of milk instead of a 1/2 gallon. I’d go through the bag and leave behind items my family wouldn’t use, so someone else could have them.

One day I noticed a sign on the wall listing income guidelines for using the food bank. I’d had no idea that my income fell so far below what was considered poverty level. I hadn’t even thought about poverty level, until then.

I was also on Food Stamps, I got $238 a month to feed my kids. Food Stamps bought food but nothing else, and I had no money for non-food items like dish soap or toilet paper. The Food Bank gave out 1 roll per family per week, and I needed two. Pretty bad, not being able to afford toilet paper! Now, when I go into fancy hotel restrooms and notice extra rooms, I think, dang, why didn’t I know about this place back then, I could have gotten a roll of TP from here!

Couldn’t afford trash pickup, nor dump fees, so took my weekly bag of trash to a local park. One of the parks had a playing field and my kid had practice there, one week I discovered the raccoons had gotten into the trash and there were my tampons strewn about the grass.

Back then, food stamps came in voucher packs like ferry tickets. The Thriftway employees were really snotty about them. You tended to shop at the other grocery store, my ex-husband refers to it as ‘The Loser Store” (although he shops there sometimes, too), as it was more accepting.

The first time I went to the Food Bank it felt miraculous. I was so grateful to be able to feed my kids. I was so appreciative of their generosity. They gave out turkey at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and it could supply a week’s worth of meals.

It was also great to go off of Food Stamps and great to quit using the Food Bank.

So, I have a hard time with snotty Europeans with their socialized everything making snotty remarks about Americans being asleep. I also having a hard time with my Republican relatives who think everyone using Food Stamps is spending their money on $100 cell phones or other things, using the system.

Nobody asks to experience that kind of deprivation and shame.

And it has nothing to do with being asleep or awake. I was a spiritual teacher for 20+ years when I went through this experience. I went through it wide awake. It was a great ego-blasting experience, but I wasn’t less awake prior to that, certainly not less awake than someone who hasn’t gone below the poverty line.

You (your personality) can’t control things occurring that create you being on Food Stamps. The way the economy has been in recent years, more people are falling below the poverty line that never, ever would have expected to before. Your education, your family background, doesn’t stop you from getting laid off, your business going bankrupt. There is no good or bad to it, it happens.

Our parents and grandparents experience this during the Great Depression, and in Europe after the Great War, but they didn’t pass this piece of information on. They passed on a compulsive need to turn off lights and to save leftovers, but they should have passed on the lack of judgement.

Instead there’s a stigma about accepting government handouts, that there’s something deficient or wrong with people who have receive them.

Bless those that judge, bless them with the opportunity to walk in the shoes of those they judge.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | September 9, 2012

Transmuting Damage

This morning as I was walking I was musing about people who were abused as kids. Emotional abuse is the most insidious; it destroys the soul, yet leaves no physical evidence.

When anyone dies, patterns come to the surface. It has a ripple effect throughout their family.

This week I’ve had ‘stuff’ floating about, looking at people who are “successful”, comparing myself.

I chose the path of the mystic. I wouldn’t have made it through Law School. It wasn’t my interest to get a Master’s in anything. I’ve lived a creative life, an artist’s life. If I’d persisted in acting, I suspect it would have looked the same. I would have written more, however.

Where it fits in the family patterns is that I’ve lived beneath the radar. Don’t be noticed, you’ll be kidnapped or killed. Certainly don’t be more successful, or successful at all. And yet do something that a parent can be proud of. Or at least understand.

I made choices to prioritize people. I delayed gratification *years* to provide stability for my kids. And I did a piss poor job of it, in some ways. In other ways, I did a remarkable job, all things considered.

Anyway, this morning it occurred to me I could transmute the damage.

There’s a quote that I can’t quite remember (nor remember who said it, but Shakti Gawain is coming to mind), to do with our manifesting our light through physical form. The lamps don’t have to be perfect or pure, the light shines through in a more interesting way when they’re not.

The image that comes to mind is a leaded, stained glass window.

Another thought is how people live through abuse without becoming abusers. Without perpetuating the abuse.

Tonight as I write this I just want to leave everything. When I finish this midwifing gig, who knows when that will be, I just want to take off. I still want to stay connected to my kids, but that’s it.

Future, no past.

…another thread from this morning was realizing this world was created by explorers. Not just Christopher Columbus or John Glenn, but millions of explorers, who discovered the nooks and crannies, to be followed by pioneers who made habitable spaces.

Explorers don’t leave much of a trace, except maybe a trail in the wilderness. They light the way so others know what they can expand to (towards).

And then I realize much I am struggling with is horse shit. I’ve written books, I’ve written blogs, I’ve recorded radio shows, I’ve taught classes, I’ve given readings and energetic transformations, I’ve touched peoples lives. I may not be famous, I may not be Allison Janney on the West Wing, but I have done something. It just looks different than most folks’ imprints in this world.

I haven’t forgiven the abuse, amends haven’t been made to me. I haven’t forgotten it, and I was there when things happened when others weren’t. I’ve set it aside to do the right thing, to move forward.

I’d really like to be Eckhart Tolle or Byron Katie with all of this. Transmute myself and come out the other end, living in the world not of the world, more mystical than before.

Piss. Wish this tour of duty were over, and yet don’t, since it would mean the death of my mother. Just hunker down for the duration, stay in integrity with my main purpose, which is to help my mother live until she dies, to hold space for her process, to do the right thing, the best thing for her.

Doesn’t help to look beyond now. Have to go through it to get out the other side.

If this were an Ezine article it would have a more graceful ending. It’s a journal entry so it ends like this.

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | July 25, 2012

Much to think about

Just finished nearly 3 hours at the doctor’s.  We’re in the bathroom in the lobby.  They drained 1.5 liters of fluid from her lung.  I took a picture on my phone.  I may post it if I can figure out how.

Talked about pleurodesis, the dr. was going to schedule for Friday but we have tickets to Pirates of Penzance on Saturday (quality of life) so we decided to drain today and schedule next week.  

It was difficult for Dorothy, when her lung started expanding again. 

The doctor called me into his office after the follow up Xray and showed the difference from December, March, May, June and now.  There’s a lot of “involvement’ inside the lung that could be causing her symptoms.  He’s hesitant about putting her through pleurodesis procedure (it would be an ordeal, after today that is clear) when it it may not do any good.

He asked about medications, I said they’d prescribed morphine and Lorazepam, which he said was like valium.  I said I wasn’t giving them to her because the symptoms are memory loss.  

He said, to the effect, that it’s time now, that memory loss vs. lung involvement relief, see what I mean?

I’ve lost my verbal acuity with all of this.  It’s an awful lot to face, seeing how spider webby the inside of her lung looked

Makes me question not fighting it.  Yet I know the chemos would have done her in earlier.

When I’ve read people who have passed, I can tell if they were on a lot of medication (I can tell the difference between illicit drugs, alcohol, or morphine from hospice).  Morphine causes difficulty with communication after passing, I don’t know why.  It’s not what i’d expect, since when people die they immediately become spirit.  It’s the body that gets the morphine.  But I see an energetic influence.  Maybe it depends on how much morphine.  

Anyway.  Dorothy’s ready to leave the bathroom.  

Posted by: modernmysticmusings | January 18, 2011

Tree Time

(c)2011 Joan M. Newcomb

Last December 21st we had a Full Moon eclipse that was fully visible over my part of the planet. I stayed up hours past my bedtime to watch it. It took a good half hour for the moon to get covered, and clouds threatened to cover up the whole thing (which they did, once the moon was fully eclipsed).

I sat shivering out in my garden in the moonlight, and became aware of trees.

We have some 100ft Douglas Firs living on our land, and there, in the middle of the night, I sensed their Presence. Their energy was incredibly slow moving. Dorothy MacLean said that the Deva of Trees told her they were the ‘lungs of the world’, breathing out oxygen for us. They also seem to me to be the elephants of the plant kingdom. Ancient, wise, living in a different way of time passing.

Watching the video below, I got the sense that a year for us is like a day for Trees. Each season is a portion of their ‘day’.

They’re the Witnesses of life passing, they don’t move, they observe. Watch and see what I mean:

A year in 2 minutes – timelapsed film from Norway, showing one patch of woods over a years duration

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