Tag: Meditation

Gotta Be This Tall

Morning Meds; 7 19 22

I was raised to believe that God would only use you if you were worthy.

If you aren’t the saintly type and choose to believe this it is true, it sure can limit opportunities.

Some of these old beliefs are hard to shake.

What still lingers in the shadows of your soul?

What voices whisper lies of dread?

Those unaddressed conclusions are based on bogus information.

Old rules and codes of conduct glorified for the point of control raised up as unreachable standards.

A measuring stick that you must be this tall to ride this ride…

I don’t think whoever or whatever created us is really that picky.

Love isn’t. Love is inclusive, tolerant, and accepting.

Don’t let misinformation hold you hostage.

Ready To Go

Morning Meds; 7 18 19

I have had trouble with my blood pressure.

I mainly use diet and herbs to keep it down.

I have gotten very lax about it.

I had had a rough day, went to bed early really exhausted.

I thought it was most likely my bp.

I didn’t check it because I really didn’t want to know.

It had been high enough to be life threatening.

When I woke up, I checked it, and it was up there.

This is my dream.

I’m lying on a tile floor in a mall and two teenage girls walk up to me and one of them kisses me on my forehead. (?)

I think to myself, “Wow, they really do love me.” in the since of confirmation, not surprise.

Next, I’m standing by my garage/shop. (common location in my dreams, personal life)

I am trying to rearrange and make more room in my garage.

I look up and see a silhouette of a person in a 1930’s broad brimmed hat carrying a large cloth sack.

It’s slung over his shoulder like a Santa bag.

He’s walking across the sky above me.

He enters from the east, (future) I am facing north (spiritual).

He turns toward the south (present time) and I walk parallel with him, down a hill.

I’m on a sidewalk, he’s still up in the sky.

I have a camera taking a picture. (dream books say, means pay attention to something, I think recording memories).

There are two, 3 to 4 years old girls just down the hill and I am pointing to the man in the sky and telling them to look, because I know they will never get to see this again. (?)

We follow the figure all the way southward down the hill.

The figure gets ahead of us and crosses from the east toward the west and disappears. (how the sun travels in one day)

I walk back up the hill and I get back to the garage and say to myself “Oh screw it, I’m going to keep on doing what I’m doing” and I started to clean out the garage.

I wanted to rearrange to make more room.

I instantly knew there was no more room. (I had nothing else I really needed to do)

I saw a snow sled in front of me with a stocking cap and gloves neatly hanging on it. (Everything was in order)

I looked back to the sky and now there were two silhouettes walking together towards the north.

One of the girls said, “He’s learning how to do the balloons.” (balloons of ascension?)

If you trace the first man path, it ended up making the letter z (last letter in the alphabet)

The snow sled speaks of winter, the last season.

As I meditated on it this morning, I realized I had witnessed my passing.

From a family kiss of love, (laying on a slab) to whomever or whatever will come to escort me home.

I took my herbs this morning, a whole bunch.

As I meditated and interpreted, I realized that, I don’t think I have anything to fear, everything’s in order.

What a great gift.

The first question that came to mind after that was, have I shown enough love in this lifetime?

It wasn’t that I would be judged, it was just a legitimate concern.

I believe we will want to know the answer to that when we pass.

Love is the most important thing.

Dreams are a gift of guidance.

Keep track of the symbols, they speak volumes.

Sitting In a Puddle

Morning Meds; 7 17 22

The alchemist dipped the wooden bucket into the storage tank of water and poured the water onto the stone floor. The water gathered itself together to form a small puddle.

“Sit down in the puddle.” he said to the apprentice.

The apprentice looked from the alchemist to the puddle and back to the alchemist and slowly stooped down and removed his shoes and socks.

Untying his tunic, he draped it over a nearby chair.

Stripped to his undergarments he stepped into the puddle and sat cross legged, whipping the water from his hands, he placed them on his knees.

The alchemist spoke, “Sit in the puddle until you become one with the water. Sit until you are the bottomless sea you truly are.

Your spirit, your essence has no size for it is formless.

The essence of this water is formless too.

It is just an expression of Consciousness, conjured here by us to meet our imagined wants.

This puddle is as deep as a bottomless sea.

Your spirit, your essence is also Consciousness, and it has no dimensions, volume nor form.

Your essence can be as large as a universe or as small as a gnat.

It conforms to your desires, those things you misinterpret as needs.

It expands or retracts according to the necessity of experienced need.

Universes exist in a drop of water both physically and consciously, we just fail to see.

We fail to realize and recognize our formlessness and the formlessness around us.

We fail to see the abilities and the nature of our essence.

We recognize our oneness with the water and the water recognizes its oneness with us through our shared Consciousness and formlessness.

It is comparable to a birthright, although we have existed forever.

We do not earn rewards, nor do we have them stripped away.

Our human ups and downs are our own doings.

They follow the trail our thoughts and beliefs construct before us.

They are part of this human experience, and this human experience is a mere fraction of what is available to us.

We struggle because we don’t realize we don’t have to.”

Preparing a Place for Our Dreams

Morning Meds; 7 16 22

A garden crop can’t thrive unless the soil is prepared for its arrival.

We envision dreams to pursue and often question why they are so slow to appear.

We seldom spend time visualizing the world that would support our dreams.

Humanity’s Malice

Morning Med; 7 15 19  

On 7 11 2019. I dreamt I was standing in a wasteland on the northern edge of a huge city.

I don’t know which.

I was alone standing by a cargo container; I thought it was my home. 

I had to relieve myself, but I heard voices to the east, so I walked to the west side of the container to be out of view. 

To the west I could see people walking in and out of manmade square doored underground cavities. 

They were a long way away. 

I never looked to the south, towards the city, but I knew it was in decay. 

Looking to the north I could tell that I was in large crater, but I couldn’t see beyond the rim. 

In the crater to the northwest, about one hundred yards away, I could see the remnants of what looked like a baseball backstop. 

One tall pipe leaning to the southwest, a shorter pipe leaning against it, so it looked like an upside-down letter y. 

My dreams always have an access point anymore and when I meditate on that point, they work like doors opening up useful information. 

There was debris beneath the y shaped symbol, and I knew it was covering an opening, the debris was not my own. 

The dream left me feeling very alone and lonely when awoke.  

I meditated on it a bit Sunday morning but didn’t go to the access point.  

I got two different thoughts.

1. Sand is the bones of mountains strewn on beaches, waiting to return to the depths of the sea to be pressed back into mountains. 

2. We walk on the bones of our ancestors, their sparks of memory rise like warm vapors intermingling back into our volume of energy. 

They both seemed like strange thoughts.

When I started meditating this morning and was immediately back into the dream, only the whole crater was covered with human bones. I walked towards the y through the remains to move the debris and uncovered a gravestone, that said, “Humanity’s Malice.”

I thought well shit, we’ve blown ourselves up. 

I have yet to decide whether to go in or not. 

………

Humanity’s Malice

Strewn bones 

Like landscaper’s stones

Crunching, crunching 

Neath my feet.

The stench of malice lingers. 

Stranded survivors

Standing in darkened doors

Surveying the decay

Lonely and afraid.

Don’t know if it was a time before 

Or a time to come,

Or a season

or a cycle in time.

The debris removed from a point of access.

A cut stone beneath

Bearing the words

“Humanity’s Malice”  

The Wind Carries the Whispers of the Tree

Morning Meds; 7 14 19

I am a huge tree I am and will always be.

My branches reach beyond the stars,

My roots to the heart of God.

I’ve weathered every storm that’s blown.

I’ve healed as oft I’ve broke.

Transcended every season.

Awoke from every sleep.

My branches spread across all time.

I’ve sheltered all who come,

Protecting from the heat or cold.

No one was turned away.

My roots are covered with infinite nods,

Past lives of existence stored,

The wisdom of all lives ever lived,

Flowing throughout my veins.

I’ve released my pollen to the wind

As she walked along my limbs.

Freely given, a gift of love,

It’s how all life begins.

Be the tree you’re meant to be.

Spread your branches wide.

Offer protection,

Offer love,

Remember, you are Divine.

You are a huge tree.

You are and always will be.

How do I know your worth?

We are one, you are me, I am you.

Our roots grow from the same seed.