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.

Our Dreams Persevered

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.”

Upside-down Funnel

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.

Gaia’s Whisper

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.”



Persistent Shadows

Morning Meds; 12 11 22

Sometimes a persistent shadow can seem to be some kind of darkness and appear to be bigger than our lives.

When we shine a light on darkness it must dissolve.

When we shine a light on a shadow, we can see what cast it.

Often it is not evil, it is unresolved pains, fears and hurts.

When seen as an unresolved issue we become bigger than the issue at hand.

Light reveals the unseen so it can be dealt with.

Our core essence is pure light and as we contact it our light reveals the answers we need.

We Color the Page

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.

Spiritual Archaeologists

Morning Meds 12 9 22

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.

Stop Comparing

Morning Meds 12 10 22  

If we always compare what we are receiving with what we were taught, it is difficult to change our beliefs.

At some point must choose to believe that the new we are receiving is valid.

We will always stay at the same place if the new must fit into the parameters of the old.

Tying the Hands of The Creator of All

Morning Meds 12 7 22

I wanted to heal you, but you didn’t believe I would.

I wanted to ease your pain, but you said it was your own.

I wanted you to feel forgiveness, but you thought you deserved the guilt.

I tried to share my unconditional love, but you were taught that it was earned.

You suffer so needlessly when I am always available to help.

You are my everything, there is not a part of you that isn’t a part of me, but my hands are tied, I can only be expressed to you through the way that you believe.

Persistent Traffic

Morning Meds; 12 6 22


Persistent traffic creates a rut of packed soil.
Persistent thoughts create a durable belief.
Our beliefs are how we choose to navigate our lives.
The statement, “I feel like I am in a rut,” may be a more accurate assessment of our thought patterns than we realize.
It is difficult to start a seed in packed earth.
Even if you fill the rut with fresh soil the hardpack beneath it will not allow the root to reach a depth that will allow survival in stressful times; often the hardpack needs to be broken up or removed.
We always have the choice of venturing onto a new path, one of our own design or even temporarily retracing the steps that others have provided.
Once you begin a new path no matter by whom it was created, it becomes your own, for it is our steps that clear the way.
It sometimes takes a while to see the path clearly and stressful times can detour your progress, but every time we challenge a belief that is no longer useful to us, we pick away at the hardpack and clear the way to a new path for ourselves.
Our ruts were created by choices, our way out of them is created in the same way.