Someone Has to Look After the Youthful Wild Boys

I am moving back into my night dreams through a liminal state. I see board pieces from a previous dream fall away. Then I am watching and I am part of these bears birthing from a cave. It is intense and hard work to be birthed past this membrane that has been nurturing us to full fruition. We are joined together in an unwavering movement of birth. As witness it is rather beautiful to watch the form taking place. I love the faces of these Bears. I travel as witness for a time watching them shake their fur into being. They stay together as pack which seems evolutionary or a uniqueness on a soul level.

Then that sensation of softening into an expanse comes in. Kind of felt like how you step from indoor space to outdoor space with quiet and deeper awareness. Now I am in a dream of exodus. There has been a happening and what could be salvaged was in a covered space. We are refugees and must travel onward to find a new home.  I am having to assert myself to get my dyne that my mother gave me. I take note that it is the same blanket I am sleeping with in my physical body in bed. A man announces that we all need a towel, which has me thinking of Douglas Adams. Maybe this is dimensional upheaval? I am asked to hold vigilance for a few young wild boys. This is not a new request as I often accept responsibility for the young wild boys. We land the night on a strange landscape where the grass is red. The sky is becoming more available to our senses. The boys wish to bunk in a cave. I am done arguing that this is not a good idea, they should stay with the others on the open grassland. I stay just outside the cave so I can watch them and help watch for the openings in the sky. I see one is digging in some small cupboard built into the cave. He finds this strange spider like creature that is plastic and goes to scare the other boys. I see the live one under the cupboard wake up, it is a trap. The hand sized spider like creature moves to go after the boy. I run, putting on my work gloves and grab the thing and kill it. That's it! Look at what happens when you are reckless in play. I make them go to the open grassland and the whole dream feels safe now. This clan is making it's way and I am delighted at the many options toward open sky. I stay until dawn. It is a good sun.

Image: thoughtco.com

An Ancient Calm

Last night when she licked my face to startle me awake I was not so grateful. I put on my warmest clothes and went for a walk in the milky light, full moon so bright. The walk took us around the shed and down a walkway beside the marshy patch. It was when I stepped into the place of trees, I finally grew gratitude for this puppy who woke me. 

Back inside I slipped under that cozy blanket into a wakeful sleep. The hypnagogic is filled with animals again and I was peaceful enough to hold that flow without becoming overwhelmed. I entered this state of being from the state of being brought to me on my moonwalk. I continued the practice of calming beyond alerting to every animal rushing by. My curiosity entered me and grabbed attention toward a most unusual deer. She lay there so calm in the rush of animals.

Before the experiences of the deeper dreaming, my being in the liminal prepared my senses into a focus for the next field of being. It is not unlike putting on a warm coat for a wintery moonwalk about the farm. Breathing into that warm pause I notice her antlers reforming. I hold my attention to the “Fearn” letters. Now there instead of antlers is a message. All my senses, like a warm blanket gathered to listen, “I will take you to the alder tree. The doorway opens with the sound of my hooves. Ride with me now. Ride.”  It was a smooth ride, the sensation shift was not unlike going from the outside into my home space. I dropped my thicker coat of consciousness. Then dropping bare feet onto the warm moss, I pause into that sensation. To be awake in my dream body not as solid as the physical, seems to afford me a deeper sensual connection. The brook here filters only the freshest of babbling sounds, touching the ancient stones. My hiraeth is at ease. This is a much-needed respite from the loud tumult of modernity’s fears. This, I carry back into my day. The moon gently bows to the sun lit time. This an ancient calm that does not shout, nor worry, I carry back with in me. I carry it back to the sun time of my physical body. It is a warm, steady sensation, fluid upon the ancient stones, song steady and I part ways from the chaos of modernity’s fears.

Image by Semka

Traveling the Stars

I sat with the old man. I the dreamer and me the dreaming one, loves him.  When I first met him in my travels, my stubborn mind got that aha of ease that is abounding radiance. As it is among the stars, place is without travel, it is one experience into another. I first experienced him in the bush country. I like it there on nights where the clear fresh twinkle of stars touches my senses as I breath air on this playground called Earth. My mind, less stubborn now, whispers of unbounded radiance, "It’s not  like we all weren’t part of it all along". It’s so easy to love unbounded when another steps in to share.  When one or more from my species twinkles back the eye of their star, wow! There is this aliveness here, on the playground always speaking, sharing, yearning it’s love outward.  He reminds me into my wholeness to lead with my heart. Sitting with him I experience an infectious luminosity that grows easiest in all living beings, in the sharing of presence. He speaks all different ways and I laugh at the accents and words he wears. 

I say this,

Words from the clinging of that hierarchy of value placed on living beings feels like vomit to me. I see it sometimes as a chain around the heart and step back to avoid the vomit that comes from the chain.

He says this,

“It ain’t no good this better then you

It ain’t worth a spit in the bucket

So I’m choosen

Love

And Again Love and again…

It ain’t easy, but it sure is livin

This choosin

I choose my battle

Spit out when I have to

It ain’t a thing I am wantin to be

More or less or... then who I am

You best watch what happens when you are steppin back

Don’t be clingin to the chain of thought”

He draws closer to me and we don’t move an inch.

“When you step back, stay deep inside until that chain holds no power

You have no time for drama in your daily affirmations

Your mind can close doors as easily as it opens them

You share this playground with All that is Now

Play nice”

Love

When I was in girl scouts my Mom was one of our leaders. On an outing we stopped for ice cream and a Woman, perhaps homeless, stopped to talk with me. My Mom waved me over observably concerned. She said something around the lines of “that woman could be dangerous”. I wanted to finish listening to this woman’s story. I reassured Mom that it would be ok, she had eyes on me the whole time. Nothing bad was going to happen. I went back to finish our conversation and asked the Woman why people might be afraid of her. I remember she gave me this brilliant answer. I listened to a few of her stories and saw and felt Beauty. I will never forget what she said to me when I went to go rejoin the group. “I Love you little one.” I knew that love and spoke it back to her. This was the first time that I can remember sensing fear, attached to a thought, attached to a larger fearful collective thinking from my Mom.  I knew it wasn’t healthy how Mom acted on this thought form she was attached to. I am talking health, not bad or good.

I do believe Love and Beauty are of the same field “that arises from the grammar of the world”, and therefore connected deeply to Creator. I believe the human heart easily grows within this field. I am wondering if those that have long practiced acting from this relationship of heart and say this ancient creator force, have a steady Beauty about them. I am not talking personality trait. I have met too many grumpy old farts holding a steady pulse within this Way. I am not talking about Beauty in the sense of that Barbie Doll beauty that Hollywood throws up like some monster factory for profit. That is not Beauty.  

John O’Donahue wrote a lovely book called Beauty. The one comment I don’t agree with is when he says, Beauty does not linger, it only visits.   I find it similar to how Carlo Rovelli in his book The Order of Time, writes about linear time “not being of the grammar of the world”, but arises from it. I believe there is an undeniable coupling of Love and Beauty that play in the relational experiences of this world.  

I am no longer surprised by the warm safety and pulsing Beauty that is present in my intentional community of active dreamers. The foundation that we hold to is communication from a steady diet of welcoming play as we speak,” If It Were Me.” How fantastic really this is. We listen to one story in the Lightning Dream Game fashion and we want to hear all the stories that are brought in from the inspiration of that one story.  I hear and understand more of what it is to be a Thunderer with this Lightning dream work. This basic communication system frees us from that harsh dualistic banter that I find has taken the stage in our corporate news media stations. It feels like throw up to me. I wonder about individuals stuck in dualistic thinking constantly bantering, me vs you, or us vs them or she vs he. Perhaps making it a habit to act from fear attached to a thought, attached to a larger fearful collective thinking form creates this style of speech. Speech being an action, I find this an unhealthy habit of action. Habits can always be changed. The swiftest path for me to Re Member myself to Love and Beauty is to access my child.  Children are my favorite teachers.

A Pilgrimage and the Remaking of the Obelisk
(Writing from Dreams)

On a pilgrimage with a small group that I can feel but not see, I wake up walking toward a townhouse in a cityscape. I have the map in my mind of the hostels that will take us in along the way. I walk up the steps and knock on the door. A man in a shower robe answers. My mind from this life with my body in bed dreaming this dream whispers, He looks like that painting I saw of Seth. I will call this mind Patty in this telling of the story. The round faced man looks at me and announces that I must have the wrong house. Another one that I travel with presents an Obelisk about six feet tall. I am that one now bringing the Obelisk out that we easily carry in the style of Mary Poppins or Hermione Granger. It is a new Obelisk, re-made from a ceremony of woman placing corners stones of unique colors.  We say, We are here to see "bla,bla". The man in the robe says, "Oh you mean the Doctor. Yes please come in."

We enter and make our way down the spiral steps to a cavernous area lit from the pool of water. I feel familiarity and that lovely longing stirring. I am slower, more graceful a form here. I slip into the waters and see my sisters break away into several personalities to swim in the water. Our collective sensation is that we have been traveling too long without immersing in the waters. Now I am scanning for a companion I have known most of my Being. As I reach out through time I find him slipping into this cavernous pool here where the water is such a peaceful glow. He is in his new Avatar body and I notice I have a new one also. Our skin is white and seems to glow with the waters when immersed. We spend time in conversation about our travels and discoveries. Then we join in a warm love making. Our hips joined together offering upward immersed in the glow of these waters. I step out of the water and put on clothing, unlike my traveling clothes. I walk up the stairs to a different dream space. Entering a TV room just left of the front door,  I see two younger sisters to Patty. They are watching their favorite show. One sister looks like herself and the other doesn't look like herself. I say hello, but don't stay to watch the program.

Feeling: anticipation of more chapters to come

Reality Check: 1. When I shared this with my younger sisters, the one that didn't look like herself told me she had been playing mermaids with her grandson the day before. What was intriguing is that they had never watched a mermaid show and her grandson decided she should play the evil mermaid. Evil to my grand nephew means being chased and caught and chased again. 2. There is a whole other story that I slipped into and I witness the re-making of the Obelisk among women. 3. I have dreamt of a spirit home for me where there is a pool in it that has a feel of this level of dreaming.

Question: I don't understand what I wrote, "...and see my sisters break away into several personalities." The sisters I am referring to are those I am traveling with. I am thinking it has to do with Avatar bodies? What does the Seth series say about personalities?
                How do I work on getting better at recognizing words I speak in dreams? I often wake and it's all bla bla. I do retain a conceptual understanding when I wake from languages I can not re speak here.

Research: Robert Moss writes about Seth as describing himself as, "I am an energy personality essence, no longer focused in physical matter... " This from Robert's interesting blog post, The inner psychic combustion that gave us a great multidimensional teacher:.

This Land My Home

I love how the horizon surrounds me in 360 degree vision on this prairie farm. Much happens along the edges. In those early hours where time is still and the portals open wide, I wake to the sound track "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." I drift back into the dreaming state and am greeted by some ancient veil maker, the Gatekeeper, who offers me my choice of thickness and style. You choose, I say to the Gatekeeper.  I wrap myself in the thin, milky white moon light. Veiled now, I travel onward.

I wake up to my body in bed and go out with our puppy for a moon walk. I am wrapped in hygge, all cozy in my inherited Mother's thick dyne. I heard the moon passes the beehive cluster this week. There it was like some half eaten milky cookie, all lit up and at home in the deep dark clear sky this land supports. The clearer the deep, the easier one sees the light of others. I don't have a favorite phase of the moon anymore.

On my second walk around the farm I went to the apple tree. The sun joined the moon in the vast prairie sky.  On this land horizons and grasses ripple whisperings of Spirit. We are not only Sky country, we are of the Winds here. The Buffalo, guardians of Earth, are sure footed and easily hold the land for the Wind and Sky. The sensation of trees, expressing the wind this sunny morning, felt like the times I stood on the Pacific beach shore with the waves thundering in. The Thunderers, there on the horizon, are whispering their support in the wind, a cautionary voice to any wintery monsters who might wish to jump in prematurely.

On my way back to my house I walked past you old sad red barn, knowing it is not my place to restore you. None the less I pray for your restoration into new bright stories for the families that may come to live on this land. Always I wonder where the scholarships are for all the old barns across this midwestern farm country. Those whose hinges are coming apart, dropping doors or windows to the ground could use more then a fresh coat of paint. So much could be done with a barn. I pass the silo and think surely there are scholarships for renewal and inventive projects for all the old farm buildings. Back into the house now. I finish my writing and I am thrilled to discover my new sexy editor has time to read it.  

The Beginning of the Return of the Giants

Once upon a long long time ago our ancestors talked stories of Giants. This was after the Giants had left the world to linger in that in between space that supports the world in the same magical way love does. It came to pass that a younger daughter of a Miller, raised in Norway where stories of Giants still lingered, discovered a passage and the real of in between. Modern day physics talks about it in the word dimension, in between seems a more specific wording.

As Waymir grew she dreamt with the Giants and came into her own way, transforming into a Giant herself in the in between space where the mind awakens to soul's senses.  Once when she was grown and a mother of two she was gifted with a magic frame of all the children who had touched her life so deeply. In that deep knowing way of her heart carried this frame into the world of Giants. Giants are known to be grand protectors of children.

Each night that Waymir brought the frame through, a golden canvas with in it's boarders grew. When the canvas was complete , the Giants taught her how to stir it into the flow and pulse with the river that imbues all life in the universe. It took her many visits before she broke from the enamored spell of being able to do this. No longered enamored she felt a Joy to stay the luscious sensation of the river flow within. All life was there pulsing fresh, vibrant in the sensations of Soul.

The Giants gathered around her now with curiosity. What would she do with this skill to thrive as she stirred the golden liquid alive? Waymir came into her name as she grew the skill of holding awareness here and with her small body in bed a sleep. I will step into it she announced. I wish to explore the different states and it's lands. She started with the big blue planet many call Earth. This was the beginning of the stirring of the Giants back into the worlds.