Month June 2017

Light-Riders

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Above: If grass can grow through cement, love can find you!

So have faith in what you do. You agreed to be where you are. You shouldered what you are doing. Keep your eyes on the future, know that it exists, hold the space for it to happen gracefully & in its own time. Be a child, link your hands with those of the ascended beings who chose you, in all the world, to work with. Honor their trust & enlighten your world with the light they shine on you alone. Even if you have an audience of one & it is yourself, feel your work to be of such worth that the world will never see the like again.

Find your joy & swim around in it, get all wet’n’wild with it; never let it go. Bend time to your will for it is indeed malleable & willing to become the basket in which you place your most valued possessions. Volunteers don’t get to choose. Theirs is only to DO.

You are not of this planet; stop trying to think you can be an earthling. Accept who you are, faults, flaws, perfections & transcendences all together. Know that whoever sees your work benefits from it. If you are faithful to that which is your joy, if you remove ego from it, if you treat each speck of energy as tho it lights the torch the world will see by, you do it rightly.

Have the faith & trust in what you do – both your Lightworker duties and your Worldly ones. When you simply “Know That,” you pave the way for all to happen in the future. It may not be happening in this timeline. You may be fueling another, or setting up a future incarnation when you’ll be the one everyone looks to.

Love yourself, darlin’, it could be so different. Once you relax & stop two-stepping, you’ll make more steady forward progress. I know this to be true. I know pigs can’t fly, I know I don’t like flying very much, I know heights make me uncomfortable, but I also know with the same breath that I am a sylph in a peasant’s sturdy worker body, that I do fly every time I make a wish or see a star, that I love nothing more than to see out over the world and breathe it in/out as no one has ever done before.

Dear & Beloved friend, child, awesome worker of Light, I am holding you, I am holding onto you, I am breathing you. When you cannot find your way out of the tangle, I am busily clearing the path.

With all my love,

Carol

 

Daylight Spending Time (11/15/16)

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(From her to me – A Message from one of my Guides…)

This time change is more unsettling. No longer routine, it has you flexed & poised for a change which isn’t yet an event. You & everyone else out there are poised for the different, the new, the moveable feast & sitting, holding a knife & fork is frustrating when the food just doesn’t show up.

Yes, you do what is yours to do. You carry it forward as you go, since there’s really no going back. No matter how glamorous the life looked, it isn’t the reality you once escaped. And you are so well aware of that.

You recapture in small increments the deeds that brought satisfaction once. You find your favorite place in the sunny library on a brisk day, only to have the building announce it is closing in ten minutes just as you lay pen to paper. However, the conversation of twenty minutes which prevented you from writing was more important. Balance.

You don’t need a writing coach, you need an editor. You need someone to go thru the material & tell you what works in the world. Only on TV do first efforts bear fruit so emphatically. You’re still perceiving thru a glass darkly when your eyes see real light, changing & holy but when the rest of you feels shadowed. In this perception is great clarity, but also some confusion.

The desire for change brings it about, but it is not the change.

You have repeated & restated your priorities any number of times. This hasn’t effected any of them, though it has affected your way of thinking.

Yes, you remember so much. Your mind can be a razor blade & your words cut deeply. But I know you to be kind in your truth & careful in your telling of it. That’s what counts.

You have found many communities of comfort here, many more than anywhere else you’ve lived. Your true roots are here for the you of this moment, this date, and resident of this ever-particular now.

Carol, you’re old enough to know so much. Your memory & perceptions are prodigious. Your next calling will be one of such beauty & clarity it will be breathtaking.

So put your heart into your life, keep it front & center, hold it high as any standard ever could be. Keep your humor and don’t give up or relax your vigilance for a better life because no matter how good this one may be, there is always such available to you.

You don’t have to wrestle any bears or harness any giraffes. You only must remain steady in the expression of your gifts & be tender in your presentations of them to the world. You only have to celebrate who you are. All else is being taken care of in the most divine way.

Put your hands to work & your heart will work your hands. All you do shall be blessed & blessing. Be who & how you are: show up – walk into the water. It may seem shallow, but only for a little while longer. Soon its depth & richness will amaze you.

It really is ok to be who you are, doing what you’re doing. Rest in this so all else may flow forward.

We love you, dearest one.

Shine on, Beloved.

Shine on.

Angelina of the Violet Eyes

Remember Joy!

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THREE EXCLAMATORY POEMS

Remember Joy

And even if you weep, remember Joy

If lamentation fills the

Seeping hollows of your soul

Oozes from your pores

Pools at your feet to travel

Coldly to your neck

Submerging heart & soul & all between

In ice & damp

Remember Joy!

 For Joy lives underneath this moment

A narrow focus angling wider beam

To bathe you in a smile

Pastel as clouds on morning sky

Near as sunshine after pounding rain

Tremulous as a maiden taking hands with a new lover

For till you turn your attention to her spark

To fan it with your last despairing breath

She cannot tuck you in upon her bosom

Lay you down to rest, her steady gaze

Upon your lips, waiting out your smile

She will lift a callused, sturdy hand

To smooth your knitted brow

Or answer all your troublous winter questions

With an eyebrow quirked in query

Invitation in her eyes

A sparkling laugh to light

A fire in your belly

Remember Joy

For none of this is real as we would make it

Morning always comes; it’s non-negotiable

Spend not your heart to entrain Sorrow,

Joy’s younger sister, dressed in weeds & black

Give Joy the chance to take you in a wing’s flash

A child’s laugh or pierced shout of delight.

Her arms are always open till they close ‘round us

Resting her chin in neck-notch or atop our head

She offers all release, all dawning hope

Reclaiming scattered pieces of our soul

To knit anew in light

To set to shine as star at daybreak

Over all

 

Exhortation!

Set yourself to sea with a shout!

A push from shore

Blow into your sails to raise the wind

Of your being high above the pale water

Paddle for all you’re worth!

Recoup your claim upon this only world

Recant all sorrow, hunger, wanting

For life is not a patient yearn of waiting

For us to turn to her,

But wings toward us always

Beak full with all she’s gathered

Stuffing you to full as you scream, “More!”

 

Believe Wildly!

Set forth on quads & hamstrings, foursquare ‘pon two legs

Love with a candling heart, set afire to see by

Examine all your life

Illuminate the path ahead

Believe with your liver; trust all anger is undone

Believe with your whole soul all prayers are answered

As only you permit

Believe in love with both hands, with your skin

Believe in sorrow only as a salt to season joy

Return to sweetness in your spleen & stomach

Breathe the whole breath of life from your sinus cavities

To the lobes of your lungs

Believe! Step up & take this now upon you

A mantle of forever writ assured

On eyes & ears & brow

The runes of success dance within your aura

Don’t hesitate to claim them, brandish them

Shouting from the voice, lay claim to life

Alive & lived, not set aside in corners…

Believe your inner world as surely as the outer

Your dreams made solid, fierce, by hope.

Demand they show up, call in their presence

Surrender your will with your wrists & ankles

Submitting only to life & then to more of the same

Keep moving! Even as you stop to grasp a dream

The full moon rolls up onto your horizon

Believing only in the sun it follows forever

Believe with your wishbones!

Life is watching over you

Eternal & endless in a proud desire

To know you well, to serve you more of more

As you believe!

Ransom Notes

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I have come to believe that vanity, and not hearing, is the last sense to leave the expiring body. I settled into this physical shape as though it is the most comfortable in the world for me – and indeed, it is!

Once upon a time (that beginning making the tale worth the tell) I wished for a perfection of form, an enviable figure with a trim waist, bubble butt, hair down to here & legs up to there. Yet this body is the crowning achievement of my physical plane.

In 2009, I succumbed to peer pressure & went for a physical. The assistant measured my height at 5’1.” “Wait a minute,” I said, “I’m 5’2.” She didn’t even smile as she said, “Not anymore.” I could hear her thinking, “Another of these over-50’s with no understanding of shrinkage.” Wrong…I did know shrinkage, just thought it’d never apply to me! I knew it as dry fact, without the damper of experience.

“I can be as tall as I imagine myself to be,” I mumbled, standing under that slim metal measuring rod. Gravity, whether pulling me down or pushing (a late-arriving theory) can do its worst. I need not pay attention. My visual world pretty much ends at 5’3”, so if the item is on the top shelf, I don’t buy it until the younger (taller) attendants walk me back down the aisle to my etheric imprint to show it to me. “Up here, Ma’am, see?”

(I quit doing Girl Scout troops when the third graders collectively looked down on me. I started training adults instead, where we were all around the same height.)

True, I never returned to a physician’s office. No need for more bad news, yeah? They seldom have tidings of great joy. In fact, their track record is quite incommensurate in that regard.

I call it compacting, or condensing, not shrinking. Semantics rule…I should know.

I’m not timing out, I’m indemnifying.

In the days when I had a cute little figure, when I bought for fashion at boutiques & trunk shows & fixed my hair for husbands, I didn’t really pay so much attention to vanity.

It was a fleeting time, to be sure, before the situation changed. The Pill put on ten pounds I’ve yet to lose 50 years later. The hysterectomy seemed to create lots of storage space for adipose. And since the area is stretchy to allow for growth; wait, I don’t want to go there. You’ll see no profile shots of me on this site. I didn’t think my female parts took up quite as much space as has become available.

This body is the go-to one. I wake up to reassemble it every morning, molecule by molecule. So what if it bulges here & there? This is why science invented elastic & necessity invented Spandex.

I burst into song to be free of single-minded vanity which reduces life to what actually fits & looks nice. Too limiting! It’s a burden I’d rather not bear. My smile weighs a lot less than the rest of me & that’s what counts. I love & honor fresh greens; I just prefer pasta.

The twinges & creaks concurrent with approaching seventy nourish the stellar joy of rising to walk two miles, attempting to dance my ass off now & again, & knowing I’m not competition for anything but a contest of wits.

Being a plushie surely stands out over all those Barbie’s.

I guess I’m still growing into me.

 

Off the Cuff & Up to Snuff

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Life rolls the dice as we sit at the table, playing the game. I don’t know all the card-playing mantras – seven come eleven & that…but I believe in living forward with a healthy dose of mystery pouring around the edges of any shades I’ve inadvertently drawn.

Dark never lasts. The light breaks through in the most unusual places. I find signs (literally) like the one above on Bullard Street in Silver City. The note on the door said they were in meditation session, so I could not explore further; however, I was quite satisfied with as much as I did find. We are all in need of grooming, four-legs & two-legs both. Wouldn’t you say?

We groom our lives incessantly, trying to get all the edges lined up, all the stripes aligned in colorful rows. We try to keep to the speed limits & see to our safety. We keep in touch with old friends as we discover new relationships. So we outpace the question “What’s in it for me?”

Circumstances morph to need. If you can unlearn old habits & pour energy into the more rewarding & fulfilling “new” ones, all circumstance can be satisfied. This is what is so intriguing about the Biblical phrase “And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins.” This would seem to be more difficult in practice. We age & our bodies are old wineskins… The new life we pour into them seems at first to create untenable situations. Where do we find strength to leave old relationships, to forge new ones, to remake what once held meaning into what we are called to do for fulfillment at this exact moment?

There doesn’t always seem to be a way through. An old adage from the Orient tells us “Be water. Flow” The teachings of Abraham (Esther Hicks) were at one time all about going downstream instead of fighting against the current. And this, Abraham repeatedly said, was so hard because as a culture, we do not feel we are in accomplishment unless we are fighting.

But fighting is part of the old paradigm. The new life pouring into the planet in the form of children who are aware of the the prism of love all must filter through shows us just one example. The expressiveness of our four-leg friends/mentors/companions is another. Every morning pries us open, begs us to allow in the untried, untested, new, while simply glossing over that stubborn “no!” we want to hide in corners & wail. Yes, species die off. Yes, trees are drying up. Yes, oceans are dying. But let’s all just sit in the space of Yes! long enough to understand that this same vacuum we see forming is abhorred by the continuum of Life living itself all around us in glory heretofore untold by history.

We are based in history without the references as to why & where our habits arose. We feel more comfortable to practice the old far more than the new & it’s time for that to stop. It’s time to welcome in the change we are invited to become. If those invited to be trees want to move into another life, we must needs understand this enough to help redirect their energy. We must fashion the new wineskins, hold ourselves open, allow the pouring overflow to fill us. We must groan through the growth process this engenders with the sure & certain trust we were fashioned to have this happen in precisely the manner it does.

If you find you’re guilty of some sin, make amends. Make Amens – sum them up & bring these to closure so refreshing, novel, au courant (coeur = heart) that fresh information can manifest. If the trees die, look for what now grows there. If old habits have packed up their heavy trunks & laid these by the door as you walk out, leave them behind.

Try it. Close your eyes, press on the lids lightly, envision what you would rather have take place & pour the new wine of your beautiful Light energy into your refashioning life. It can be easy if you don’t make it hard. It can be done if you start somewhere, lay something down, pick something else up. I told a friend to write a love letter to his ailing knees & he wrote back to ask, “What should I write?” I replied, “This is your task. Find a pen, smooth out the paper in front of you & begin.”

All we need is at hand. Reach for it! Give life permission to stomp something out so that making new wine becomes all there is to do. I can’t tell you how to do it – I can only suggest that it has worked throughout time. I can tell you there are paths through the forest waiting for your feet; footprints in sand which fit only your size eights, ideas which only you make manifest & bring into fruition. This is the promise we are given. This is the talent we are not permitted to pull a bushel over anymore.

When everything else is closing in, walk on. Expand, try, seek & bring the finding close enough to inhale. Breathe life in & allow it to explore your body with the love it bears for you.

Smile, too, & don’t forget to have some fun with it. No one can hold us down when it is our time to fly. And at times that may mean mean jumping off the cliff to see if the wings work. Determine what you want to be & become who you are, leaving behind who you think you were.

Find Your Yes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Home Sweet Home (Revisited)

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I have lived in many places – sometimes – if not usually – in the very same town. The stretch between being in one place and the other can make it feel like I’m living in two different universes. Already in Hillsboro, I’ve moved once again after landing late March.

Living at the Barbershop Motel was like living in an Edward Hopper painting – you know, the one where faded people sit in chairs at open-all-night bars (look up “Nighthawks”) or sitting by themselves somewhere, seeming as though waiting for life to stop by for a visit.

I have felt for a long time that life has better things to do than come by my door. A singular encounter released me from the motel. What a growth opportunity this has been! It was joyous, fun, enlarging & definitely extraordinary.

You see, I believe in alternative stuff…disinformation, “fake news”, all kinds of breathy pulsating topics which are sidereal to what’s often called mainstream. I am not sure I believe in any-much anymore except one-to-one conversational laybys with friends who have history with me. And the event which propelled me from the “Hopper Effect” was highly spiritual in nature. But, the details aren’t to be listed here & the cover story will serve.

I came to New Mexico for one reason; to help others. So long as I can live rent-free somewhere, I can afford to live. Ha! I’ll bet many of you reading this could say the same. I am free from “earning” a conventional living. I am one of those seniors now affording to live on about $1,000 each month of Social Security. The government has generously given me cost-of-living-raises of $3 per year since I took early retirement seven years back. I am exploring the altered state of not having a regular job to report to. If I curtail pretty much anything which costs me money, I can make this work. Once the credit cards are paid up, I’ll be relatively wealthy.

This is simplified since I live in a town with only antique stores, no bank, no bodega, one café where the food is mostly selections from a menu I don’t eat, one wine bar (I don’t drink) – imagine! No Starbucks, no Walgreens, no fast-food or retail outlets, no movie theatres… An outstanding all-volunteer library is up the hill. Some of the most spectacular scenery in the world is nine miles away (Gila National Wilderness), everyone in town is a Master of something. We have artists, natural food growers, writers, engineers of all description – but in the end, we’re all old farts who live in a town of 150 where the list of what we would seem not to have stretches much farther than what we do. But how much would you pay for peace of mind, knowing your neighbors, uninterrupted sunlight, cool nights & no cell service downtown?

You have attained “favor” here if you have a tree to park the car beneath & can remember what day the Pickin’ Circle meets to play outside the Black Range Vineyards Wine Bar. I have attained my own favor because I know the people on my street (which is, by the way, is the main drag among three others.)

Malcolm Gladwell, in his book, The Tipping Point, writes a chapter on how 150 is an optimum number of people to have in your circle – whether social or employment. There are 150 people in this town. Internet data will inform you we’re a “statistical entity” with a population of 120 as of 7/16. Guess we’ve had another gold rush if the numbers are up by 30 in a year!

It’s unusual to hear children unless the “grands” are visiting. In a town this size, everyone becomes a character worthy of their own sitcom. Most of the women are gray-haired, most of the men have beards or handlebar moustaches. There’s a tiny stable on the upper corner with a white horse & her two companion miniature horses. At the diagonal opposite is a road which is crossed by Percha Creek when it rains (which it seldom does.) Our town park could fit in a backyard.

I love it here.

Tonight I am headed to a concert with Randy Granger, a world-class musician who plays any number of instruments with whole-hearted soul. It’s outdoors under the white-pointed black sky. I will even have to look for a jacket to wear! I’ll see & greet neighbors, enjoy the tunes & drive the nine miles home in the altered state only live performance can create.

Cheers!

 

 

 

Life is a Scavenger Hunt (11 Poems)

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Life is a Scavenger Hunt

A leaf

A flute

Being in the presence of the lion

As differing from its photo.

Behind inter-twining gates

Breakthrough

(Brake-through)

The whole world moves on the wind

Shifting north to west to south

Where are we &

Where are we willing to go?

A wind’s message

Telegraphed by leaves

Danced in boughs.

The birds don’t worry on wind

Tho made of only spun-lace bone & color

Riding feathers upon it.

 

Before I get off the subject

I didn’t even know I was on,

Even as my pen brushes the page

More dirt settles upon it

I write crunching words

 

The wind taps this tree

Thrums that one

Shivers of its voice

Measure density

In a code far too random for comprehension

Yet I’m reading every movement.

 

This could have had such a different ending

Instead of these hasty walls

Thrown up between –

Barriers of denial

Relating to levels of anger & fear

I let it all go

One petal at a time.

They love me,

They love me not.

 

Washed Tin

It’s a busy street here

When two people pass one another

To either side, one walking a dog.

My heart is simply full of itself

With many lives to live,

Gaily leaping timelines,

So much potential

The designated “poof!” of hours…

Yanked from quantum entanglement

To seem a moment’s solitary

Accomplishment (hitting the “play” button often)

It all had to happen, though

Forgiveness unforgiven.

Momentary gaps in the thinking it through.

Beleaguered & beyond redemption.

Befriended by ascension

The wavelength to be on

Find-able

A smoother ride than along

The coast road.

 

I couldn’t answer the phone

I was buttering my hands

Um, yep, butter

Too long to explain

Not for everyone anyway

Tho more than a few would favor.

 

The glasses shatter on the fireplace,

Finalizing the celebration

But out come the broom & dustpan

The tinkling pour into the trash

Will it be replaced?

A decision for another day.

The two sides of every offering.

 

I have lost you

You who could have stayed far longer

To talk me into eternity

One way or the next

To talk me over the imaginary hurdles

I have created on my own

Spun simply & from loneliness

Your skin was soft from sleep

When I touched you to say

“I didn’t know you were sleeping.”

I dream of you now, con permisso.

 

 Living Divinity individually

Imagining duality

So, of course, a Singularity can occur.

 

I keep re/de/fining who I am

I’ve belonged to me for too long a time

I powerfully experience your turning-away

Do we cash out each other as we have been cashiered?

We tried this once before

To extreme disappointment.

I had One Escapade

But never saw the Devil I spat at…

I don’t have the nitty-gritty

Of being the fly on the wall.

Then he was summarily ejected from present company

Like a bullet, only one shot taken.

In his absence, we had no electricity for a while.

Without refrigeration, I am still frozen out for four days

From any/all conversation.

Until the PTB decide to sit me at a table

Pulling up chairs for accusation & disappointment,

Until I stand to say your life is not mine

And until you have lived it,

Do not accuse.

 

There’s a story here to tell

Untold & unafraid of itself

A love story stripping all else bare

To use the energy of the bones

I reminded her of an old friend

From voice inflection to flip-flops

So many interlocking pieces

With no interlocution.

Witness to sin

Condemned without trial

Or understanding

Yet walking free from it all.