Morning Med; 1 1 23
Help me choose to walk through the corridor between form and its reflection,
to the point of inflection,
to the now before inception,
to the fluctuating caldron of energy from which all things spring.
Let me learn to choose wisely,
to choose kindness over strife,
to choose love despite fear,
to choose the light above the shadows.
Morning Meds; 1 29 23
Chocolate, Berries, and Bean Pie
Dream
Three men face each other in a face-to-face circle, they are wearing an old style but modern clothing and they are arguing.
This is what I heard, “There is going to be a war now!”
“Three generations, a stitch out of time, like a chocolate, berries, and bean pie.”
End of dream.
My impression was that there must be a sequence of order when people are born and one of the three gentlemen was born out of sequence.
I didn’t think there was much I could do about that, definitely above my pay grade and it didn’t sound very plausible.
I don’t think that is something someone would screw up.
I definitely didn’t want it to apply to me, sounded like more problem-solving skills than I want to muster.
I didn’t get much when I followed it.
By looking up chocolate, berries, and bean as separate ingredients I found that all three are good signs in a dream.
Cocao is even drunk as a spiritual enlightenment tool in some cultures.
After I was done following the dream and as I started to work on some writing interests, the dream made sense.
A Facebook site I follow put up a goal challenge for the new year and being unable to settle on one goal I am chasing five separate interests.
Some on a daily basis and some that I want to do at least something on during the new month.
A stitch in time speaks of not neglecting something important because things are easier to do when they are fresh and before they create a problem.
The three people are my interests all arguing their case as to how important they are.
All three are great interests, but maybe not as a piece of pie.
While I was making my breakfast I looked out my window to the south and there were three large Crows in this large open lot that borders my yard.
They were close together and each of them walked away from the others almost as if the three people in my dream all turned about face and separated.
The message of the dream is, the farther I walk toward one goal the farther walk away from another.
Gifts from beyond.
The question for me is what is it telling me?
Cool dream.
Morning Meds; 1 23 23
Why is imagination our greatest spiritual gift?
There is nothing made by man that didn’t pass through our gift of imagination first.
It is our greatest tool of individuality for we create for ourselves based on our experiences.
If we are not satisfied with our creations we can always imagine change.
Fighting our creations creates struggles, to accept our handiwork as our handiwork allows us to alter our works of creativity.
If we want peaceful surroundings we must use peaceful means to create them.
It is always the energy beneath the form that animates it.
Morning Meds 1 14 23
Many people believe that to have a pleasant afterlife we need the gift of forgiveness.
To make our time on Earth more pleasant we need to give ourselves the gift of forgiveness.
Not forgiving ourselves creates a world clouded by shame.
This cloud hides all the wonderful traits we possess and creates unnecessary boundaries.
Our core is 100% Source energy.
With the cloud removed, we are free to be our true selves.
Morning Meds; 12 27 22
Like a Christmas tree adorned with clear glass balls our future possibilities hang before us.
Every foreseeable and unforeseeable outcome suspended in time, waiting to form.
Each living possibility waiting to expand as it is directed.
Each event or thought birthed by us or those around us affect the contents of all the balls.
They continually adjust to the flurry of change.
Change is brought on by numerous events, but we tend to fixate on the most dramatic,
and fail to see the little changes that proceeded it.
Our future goals can seem to be unreachable.
It seems some dramatic huge event must happen to bring it to fruition.
Start making the little changes and all related possibilities in your possibility balls will change with it.
A steady process of changes in the right direction will allow the dramatic event to expand.
Thoughts are always the predecessor to change, a change in thought will affect more balls than by action alone.
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.
Morning Meds; 12 17 22
Transactions of commitments written on the clouds of time.
Our spoken words preserving a place for us to return to so we can accomplish our dreams.
We sketch our future with our thoughts, and shade and detail it with our choices, but no matter how we get diverted, the dream remains.
(A quotation from a Unity book)
“You can always begin again.”
Morning Meds; 12 16 22
Searching within is like entering an upside-down funnel.
We begin to realize that what we have access to, is continually expanding.
Worlds within worlds, nesting dolls of possibilities each larger than the one before.
We are so much more that we were taught to believe and so much more than we can imagine.
Much like Alice’s trip down the rabbit’s hole.
Morning Meds 12 15 22
The caterpillar tugged at the silken chord that it had spun within its form.
Steadily weaving a blanket of warmth to clothe him as he slept.
Gaia stopped to admire the work.
The caterpillar felt her presence and asked,
“How can I become a butterfly?
I don’t have a clue!
There must be so much to learn if I ever hope to fly and look at me, not a single wing.
I been working oh so hard, but I feel too tired to continue.
I’m sorry that I crawl so slow and that my wings won’t grow, but after a snooze I will get back at it.”
Gaia smiled some warn sun light down and whispered with her wind.
“It’s a natural process, it is not something you do, it will just happen.
You relax and take a little nap.
Soon, after you have rested from your struggles, you will get to stretch your wings and float upon my whisper.”
Morning Meds; 12 8 22
Traditionally we see our Gods through words visualized, an outline of form we color with our thoughts.
These outlines were passed down from elders to youth and from receiver to written page and many truths were and are preserved through this tradition.
The youth adapt the pictures to the procession of change and pass them down again.
The forms of God that were too ridged to conform to change fade away, lost to the transition.
These written words are an attempt to stall change and preserve a moment so others can gain, but the Creator Of All, the All There IS is too grand to be fully contained in ancient scripts or carved stones.
The All There IS is a living presence always coming to us, adapting to our needs and is never a distant stranger waiting for our approach, for we are one.
Meditative Imagery 