Andrea the Spider Dream

Morning Meds 12 26 22

Dew drops on a spider’s web shimmering on the morning light.

Moments preserved in time to be visited again.

Drops of energy hanging on their eternal strands,

the concentric rings of recorded events.

Guarded by a giant spider, menacing but true of heart,

her sworn purpose to preserve the experiences we create.

Morning event.

To watch a new dew drop form, not from the top down,

but rising from the bottom upwards to attach its conical top.

Not formed from energy outside

but flowing from within by the thoughts we are living.

Introduction

I meet this spider in the pursuit of a dream,

looking for the lady clothed in a grey mist.

She was standing just beyond the vail of physical form,

holding and offering me a small square box.

My footsteps echoed as I neared the vail, alone in a chamber of silence.

Stepping through the vail, she stood to my left a giant looking down.

and with her above my head a giant spider her fangs and eyes poised.

I stepped back, becoming aware that the floor and the vail were no more,

just a narrow balcony with no rails.

Only darkness behind, beyond, and below

and a spider as large as house.

She straddled the center of an intricate web permeating space,

with a network of shimmering dew drops dangled from its silver cords.

The light of lives or a moment preserved in time.

She spoke, “They are all yours, yours to explore, your continuing history to which you continually add.”

“Why the form of a spider?” I ask, “It frightened me.

You are big enough to eat me.”

She replies, “It is not the form that matters it is the energy beneath the form and the information it carries with it.

I best represent what you need to see.”

Standing on my solitary perch, I ask, “What do I need do?”

“Jump.” She replies.

The spider to me is Andrea, though names like forms don’t matter.

My personal sentinel suspended on strands of woven time.

Spiritual Archaeologists

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As we as spiritual archaeologists dig through our past, the tombs of past events need not be continually revisited if all that was needed to be done energetically has been done.

Unnecessary digging in old graves can cause a stink.

Our visits to the past are often more for closure than for resurrections, although both are possible.

If an old find keeps surfacing despite our attempts to release it, then sometimes the energy beneath the find may need to be addressed.

The event may have been a symptom instead of a cause, usually once the cause is addressed the symptoms no longer linger.

The Cats Meow

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The miracle of life dances in our being, we take it for granted.

Our spiritual life is granted for we are eternal.

Our physical life is our desired gift.

“Oh, to be human,” whispered the whisperer.
“That’s the cat’s meow, not the pleasures of success, accomplishments and accumulated wealth.
It is the thrill of living.
To touch matter with your hand.
To feel the burn of cold and the swelter of heat.
To see the contrast of light and dark.
To watch matter, transform to meet your individual survival.
Birds flying, fish swimming, the interchange of oxygen and the interaction of the elements.
The assent of mountains to create valleys to hold the seas.
To watch energy, move in slow motion in a tangible way.
To watch life spark, grow and bloom.
To watch it clothe itself by transforming elements into living tissue.
To watch the precision of nature in its intelligence to propagate and thrive.
This is the thrill of incarnation.
This is what keeps you coming back.”

We Are Eternal

Morning Meds; 11 14 22

Returning to the stars we rise,

living vapors drawn aloft by convections call.

From levels of cool mortality, we re-engage with immortality.

Our husk’s ability to renew faded.

Our lives written on chalkboards wiped clear.

But we are eternal.

Each life is but a flash in eternity vastness,

Yet each is chronicled in the library of souls preserved for our revisit.

From a thought, to an act, to a single united cell, we grow, bloom and fade so our beauty can be regathered and shared again.

For we are eternal.

Parting the Vail

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Parting the vail between now and then


Peering through tattered curtains of memories persevered


Opacity turning translucent by mindful inquiry


Brief moments recorded like dreams


Lifetimes lived in another disguise

Endless Sea of Time

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We are more than we realize

Stronger than we seem

We are resilient as stone

Our eternal roots are as invasive as a weed

We have all eternity to draw upon if ever we doubt our strength

We have existed forever in some form or another

Consciousness shimmering, creating ripples within the endless sea of time

Eternities future is as endless as its past

 It is impossible to know the location of when or where we are

The only when or where that we can be certain of is our present moment

For in this moment, we somehow exist

This point of moment is of the most importance

For it is the only moment can we drop a pebble of choice and create a new ripple within our endless sea of time

Healers and Teachers

Morning Meds; 11 3 22

Our ability to heal ourselves is part of our incarnated package deal.

We often just need healers and teachers to point the way and remind us.

Healers and teachers often open the doors to our memories and help to remove our spiritual amnesia that we are born with.

They touch a part of us, and it is quickened.

Contact List

Morning Meds; 10 24 22

Everyone has many connections spread out through time, many of these are available to us through the right process.

Many of our past lives remain attached to us, but it is more like the contact list on your phone. They are just waiting to be remembered.

I wanted to use recalled instead of remembered, but it just didn’t seem right. Have a great day.