Vision

"Among the racing stars,
Upon the arms of light,
The path of sprouting green is made…"

The Silver Eye
Unlocking the Pyramid Texts
Susan Brind Morrow

I am Becoming. Folding inward. Unfolding and pulsing back again. I abandon the process of cultural lock and key.  The River knows no directional flow with Source to the Becoming.

I am Being and do not abandon the play of keys. Holding to my nature I sense. Holding to my nature I grow voice in the fertile silence. The River knows coming and going with Source in the Being.

This world sensual, Being and Becoming. For you, I will not abandon my nature. I drape myself in my robe of stars. Walking bare foot on Earth, often I fall to my knees.

Unbinding the clinging mind, cultural Becoming and Being will cease to be a prison.

In great times of strife and darkness, the brightest of stars are born. In great times of strife and darkness, each family, each nation a bright star. New constellations pattern the skies.

Where Does My Anger Go?

Where are our memorials to the Women Warriors?

It is not only men of war that overcome flashbacks.

How many raped come home and thrive, how many do not?

My anger rises within the silencing of women.

My anger rises in the unsafe spaces of intolerance of speech.

Who can listen to an angry woman talking about being raped?

The victims voice we feed and then,

We go no further to the heroic welcoming home parties.

We stay ignorant and stupid.

She's exaggerating. She wanted him to play rough. She's making it up.

And what of the platform from childhood rape, when we push correctness of memory?

Where is the broader understanding of the truth of flashbacks?

My anger bends away from Fuck You!

My anger turns into determination.

I have made it home and whole,

I am an open and safe space for you.

I have a vision.

One step at a time, 

Into the creative flow,

Gathering energy as I go into community, We are

there beyond the anger and victim games.
We are a safe community toward wholeness, whispering

If you need to say Fuck You, say it .

We will hold that hand and nurture you home.

Being

Quit some years ago I met a man because I wanted to learn from him. Several years before I met him I slid into being a lucid dreamer. In those days I went from Beauty to horror to mundane through out the night. I reached out into community and discovered a dream group. It was a style that helped some. I went to yoga, learned about nutrition, mediatated, became a Nia instructor, expanded my religious understandings, drummed, danced, went to sweat lodges, studied science, read poetry, drank tequila, and play wrote. I say play wrote because I never could get past the overshadowing of my own thought that I was not capable of becoming a writer. All I did before I met this teacher helped some.

Now because I was befriended. Because the intentional community he organized and facilitated did not crumble under my chaos, but held as I did the work. Because his words were so humanly flawed, not perfect, and so brilliant and perfect. Because I know I don't know all the
Be- Causes, language and writing are as equally awake in me as my dreaming. I have a few other people in my life whose Being holds safe brillant lit spaces for my growth. On my walk this morning in a fit of gratitude and humbleness, I flicked away the dull thought, "How can I ever pay this teacher back"?

Now I take my Being into play with all the luscious sensations, chores and synchronicities of the day. I have the greatest initiation to bring into play for when I drift awake into the night. I can say it's prayer at the altar of dreaming. I feel anticipation like a child before she is able to unwrap her christmas presents. Oh how I love to play!

Prayer Is Bridges of the Imaginal Mind

I am not sure I know many people who's lives have not experienced the brush stroke of prayer. We call out to possibility from the warmest places of heart and spirit. We join forces into re-creation from the long time voice of prayer. Now it is the age of expansion and growth. Now it is a time when the imaginal mind brings the creative force, out of isolation. Prayer is not the only modality the imaginal mind has. We are in a time of expanding our daily practices from those vital fires of Beauty and Love. We brilliantly lead with this mindedness in hand with our logical minded skills. Humanity sometimes storming and sometimes as a warm gentle breeze, makes it's way here into this expansion.

I know my imaginal mind brings forth from a co-creation of my imagination and structures, instructions, inspirations and play from the Divine. Robert Moss's writings have been the most helpful for me. "The imaginal realm is a fundamental ground of knowledge and experience. In this realm human imagination meets intelligences from higher realities, and they co-construct places of healing, instruction and initiation. Here ideas and powers beyond the grasp of the ordinary human mind - call them archetypes, tutelary spirits, gods or daimons - take on guises humans can begin to perceive and understand." He writes of the advances in hard science, especially in the field of psychoneuroimmunology that "supply overwhelming evidence that the body believes in images, and that our thoughts and feelings can make us sick or make us well." Instinctually and practical sense wise, who of us does not know the thoughts and feelings that can heal? Robert goes on to say, "There is a world between time and eternity with structures created by thought that outlast anything on earth."

It takes practice to bring about a wholeness of mind. It takes practice. I find a heart full of wonder (Does not the kingdom belong to the child?) works well to recognize and open the doors into these realms. As Robert suggests, " You may enter through the gate of dreams, or the gate of death or on nights when you drop your body like a bathrobe." Forming sight into synchronicities grows the imaginal mind and paths into and from the day. Action brightens and eases this expansion of the human mind. Hand in hand we grow.

Flashlighting From The Imaginal Realm

I have no interest in the reader who might wish to gaslight this reality. Those readers who's mind is speaking, "bullshit piece of new age weirdness", I hope will stop reading at this sentence. I am interested in the reader that knows this reality or is open to experiencing it.

This is the realm of reality I speak from, "The Imaginal Realm is a fundamental ground of knowledge and experience. In this realm human imagination meets intelligences from higher realities, and co-construct places of healing, instruction and initiation. Here the ideas and powers beyond the grasp of the ordinary human mind - call them archetypes, tutelary spirits, gods or daimons - take on guises humans can begin to perceive and understand. "
Robert Moss
Blog post Wednesday October 24, 2018
Mysterious Realities: An Interview about Many Worlds, parallel lives, kairomany and dream travel

My dream: I am prey, a rabbit I suspect. I am running at an alarming rate through the underbrush. My very human dreamers mind talks, "There is no thought here. Only alarm." I notice my body in bed is being affected. I wake softly into the inbetween and relax my physical body. Then back into the dream. I am now the predator, a golden eagle. I am flying away and up. Such a luscious sensation of ease and what? My human mind, or perhaps some spirit helper, throws up an image to associate all these sensations into. I see a cast iron skillet mounted on a rooftop. As we land on it I jump from the body of this animal to watch. I see the eagle flapping her wings. I see talons holding and the beak ripping. I look behind the wings flapping and an image of windows in M.C. Escher style are closing and opening. Past the image are lights of a soft glow with the patterns creating from their movements. I can see the patterns into a cohesive design of beauty growing .

Feeling upon waking: high alert, not alarmed, restless

Reality Check: I get up to go to my own bedroom to sleep. It's 1:00 am. Eric gets up and we both see a light pulsing, brighter then dimmer in my bed room. I muster up my courage and before I step in the light stops. When I go to attempt sleep my dog jumps out of bed three times. She is not only barking as she peers out of the kitchen window, she is doing this unusually howling sound. We go outside once between 2:00 and 3:00 to stand under a clear sky and blustery wind. This morning Eric goes in to check what was making that light go on and off. He couldn't find any visual solution and suggests it was the humidifier. I haven't turned that on all week I say. He goes back to his work in his office, but my mind is still in what if mode.

If this was your experience...

Image: Audubon Society

Divining

One of my favorite geniuses is the skill of bringing the seen and unseen into story. We are the ones who tell the stories and from story we travel. We remember. We know. From story all the layers of our senses come alive. Some stories from the clinging to defensive fears and hate do not come alive but bring early death. Story is our ticket to many looks and voices. Story is a double edged sword that can grow the mind vital and free, or stunt it into servitude. Story is that stroke of genius that is the precursor to creation of form.

I will share with you my morning world. I have my story from this experience. If this resonates with you, I invite you to divine your own story from it's many signs and voices.

Before I step outside I wonder if the wind is too strong and mischievous today. I tuck myself along the christmas tree grove, protected from the wind. I sit and read about ancient Egypt. After I finish I go to reading a report from an active dream sister. Next I take to walking with my dog into the groove. The wind is strong from the NW. The clouds are moving fast along the clear blue canvas. I see the hawk fly easy just above the tree tops and laugh feeling this is a clear helping wind, not mischievous after all. I look directly North, hearing and seeing the geese as my dog takes off in a run. I run with her shouting and laughing into the NW until she stops. When she turns back running toward me I see a rather fresh deer leg in her mouth.

Galactic Birth Marks

My dreams have shifted a bit into an astral/galactic theme. This is from last nights dream.

I am a young member of an intergalactic team.  We observe and investigate births. I am learning how to detect five patterns of birth. When a birth happens in at least one of these conditions I am responsible for placing the stone. In what feels analogous to a kitchen I discover a birth about to happen. My vision is localized so all I observe is a wall surface that looks metallic but is not fully solid, nor is it cold. Some one from the group who has not entered this space, reviews the five designs or conditions with me. I find this one forming from the first set. I reach my hand into a space that feels of Love and Beauty. I bring forth that vibration cupped in my hands into this kitchen feeling space. I hold my hands steady, cupped until a stone forms. I write on the stone knowing that this provides something like a beacon and protective field. I know there is something like an archangel, or perhaps more like a warrior/fairy goddess mother that will come when needed or called by this being about to be birthed.