Lughnasadh: Druid Tree Workings

 

Even though I adore reading and reviewing books (specific genres I might add), I rarely repost other’s articles and blogs. Well, it’s high time I do because there are so many amazing people out there expressing and sharing their thoughts and practices on nature, consciousness, evolutionary maps and spiritual growth. So here, for the first time in my world, is a repost from The Druid’s Garden. Thank you!

Lughnasadh: Fruits, Flowers & Guardians

I’m not much of a gardener, in practice anyway. And little did I know, the garden would at some point in my life become a truly wondrous thing…especially here in Washington State where everything grows with Findhorn magic.

I humbly learned and planted various things gradually over the years: first in small containers on a very hot balcony, to a small back alley plot behind my loft studio–both in Santa Fe; next in containers on a concrete slab surrounded by a weed filled back yard, to a lovely back deck–both in rental homes in the South Sound area of Washington state.

Some years it was flowers and herbs, others it was zucchini, kale & lettuces.

 

 

 

 

This year I focused on rosemary, lavender, a few flowers in the front yard and two tomato plants that my neighbor started…the first bright red reward is starting to make its appearance through the leaves.

And talking about flowers, the roses here are prolific and beyond incredible. Thank you Thomas & Margaret for holding magical space here all these years. Rest easily, Rikki has now taken up residence as guardian of the gate, calling in dragon flies, bees and humming birds, not to mention the mice, moles & voles. He’s in kit-kat heaven!

A last tomato mention: If I only planted two, where did all these other plants come from?

Cherries & Heirlooms Line the Walkway

Wow!

Celebrating Lughnasadh

right through

the first day of Equinox: September 22, 2017

Happy First Harvest

 

 

Pick-Up Sticks: Parables from Many Dimensions

Paraphrased From the Bible:

A teacher is walking through the desert, his students all around him. Suddenly, a horse jumps  gallantly off a nearby outcropping onto the path in front of the group. The man sitting astride is enthusiastic to find the teacher. “You must come teacher. Your friend is dying!” The teacher keeps walking. “Teacher, the family said you are a friend and their brother needs help. He is dying!” The teacher looks up at the man on the horse with gratitude for the information. His students are baffled by his non-challance, gossiping amongst themselves, yet the teacher continues to walk in the same direction away from his friend. Later, about three days later to be almost exact, the teacher arrives at his friend’s tomb and begins to invoke the divine, bringing him back to life in front of a large group of people.

Paraphrased From “She, Understanding Feminine Psychology,” part of the triad: “He,” “She” & “We,” by Robert A. Johnson.

A woman on her last legs to enlightenment crosses paths with a bent and tired old man carrying a bundle of wood on his back. She watches as the man loses his balance, all the wood falling to the ground. It’s her choice, her final test, whether to stay and help him pick up the wood or to walk on.

Taken From Life:

A mentor asks a student to live in her studio while they train together. The student uses all the mentor’s supplies and resources, though she has enough of her own untapped resources to share with the mentor. The student doesn’t know that she and her mentor are actually equals in this way, though the mentor sees the truth. This is the only real difference between the student and the mentor.

One day, after the student’s resources were as fully cultivated in this environment as they ever would be, the mentor asks the student to leave, giving the student very short notice. The student can’t believe it. “I love it here,” she cries out. “I don’t want to leave; this is my home now!” The mentor has no sympathy and pretends not to care. “You aren’t the right person to continue here. I am looking for someone who can be truly present in this place,” the mentor replies. Of course this angers the student and she stomps off, never to look back; well almost never. The student becomes very successful and soon surpasses the mentor, though she is grateful and humble.

Taken From Life:

A student was happily living her life after a trip to see family for one month. One day after she’d returned to her home, she received a call about her father being ill in the hospital. She was in communication with each member of her family, every day. No matter how many times she contacted them about the status of her father, no one returned her calls.

Extended family and long-time family friends started calling to ask her what was going on and why she wasn’t “home” with her father.  In fact, two of the women in her brother’s family, who lived down the street from her parents, called ranting about a lack of communication and wanted the student to make it better for them. 

One of the women raged at the student, “It’s your job! You should be here to take care of your mother while your father is ill. Your brother is stressed and now I have to handle all this for you!”

“What can I possibly do,” the student asked. “I can’t get any more information than you and I live 1500 miles away.”

Fear and guilt immediately pulsed through her body and her mind started roiling. Reactively she wondered, “should I go back and do my job?” This was her typical response and normally she would have fallen into the obligation she’d carried her whole life.

This time, she did not act. Instead, she waited for the emotions to pass, eventually sending a message to the two women. ”I no longer pick up sticks!”

Adventures of Samba

Samba is a whale. He’s an Orca, and just for fun, he sometimes likes to go by the name, “ThrillerWhale!”

He just loves to lay on his back on the surface of the Sea, his eyes closed, soaking up the sun, kicking his fins, rolling over to blow and breathe, then rolling onto his back again, just reee-laxing.

Samba says this is the best way to reminisce…and whales have incredible memories so there’s lots to reminisce about! In fact, you probably already know this, Whales are the Record Keepers of all life in our Galaxy throughout eternity!

Mmmmm. Floating. Dreaming. Feels so luxurious. Samba re-membered his life before water, before swimming. It was his big journey, a once in a lifetime adventure.

A huge cluster of stars and planets appeared in his dream. They were filled with amazing beings who loved the Earth, humans and all who live here. Samba has always been great friends with the faeries and other Earthly elementals, even when he was a Starling high in the sky, and especially now that he’s a Whale swimming the wide open Seas.

Somehow, the sea was a lot like the sky.

He remembered his first really grand wish. During his baby Star years, Samba was gazing around the Galaxy and wished upon the bigger Stars for a visit to Earth one day. Suddenly, before he could blink even once in surprise, Samba’s little Star body started to jiggle and quake.

All the tethers between his aura and his Star Friends began to let go all around him. Even the strands that linked him to the planets were getting loose. And smack in the middle of all the links, his connection to the Sirius Sun broke free and he began faaaaalling from the sky!

By now you’ve probably guessed, that was the night Samba’s journey to Earth began.

And more to come as Samba the Great Orca from Heaven continues to dream.

Kicks in the Wind

“Finally,” she said. “A moment to myself. No more communication from any source. It’s been a long month.”

Spent, Sara went down on the bed, into the milieu of propped-up pillows placed ever so carefully, in just the right way to create some neutrality for her aching back. Her landing on that cushy cloud of white and green was not graceful. Yet it didn’t matter that the pillows squished out from underneath her body, flattening into a bumpy pile of sponge. Anything to allow her back a reprieve from all the hard work it had been doing was welcome. She couldn’t wait to be still, clear her mind and relax her body, releasing all the thoughts that came to her, everyday, from places mostly unknown, save the few that she’d experienced over and over through the years.

Those, in some strange and self-defeating way, were her constant companions. Most shrinks, most friends, and most anyone who’d offered professional assistance over the years-certainly all the ministers-wanted to make Sara out to be in denial or a state of delusion, even dissociated. She knew though, these were not her thoughts. In fact, they were often the thoughts of those so-called friends and professionals, violently projected onto Sara where they froze in time and space, collecting the dust of similar thoughts that rode in on the wind.

It had now been close to three weeks since one of those bludgeonings had come in on the breeze in the restaurant during brunch one morning. And like many of the negative thoughts that appeared on Sara’s radar, this one was accompanied by a swift kick. That day it went right to the sacrum and lumbar spine, the precise point where her vulnerability had been all her life.

“It’s truly amazing to me, that after all this time, they don’t know I’m paying attention!” Sara laughed to herself. “But maybe the joke’s on me. After all, I keep taking it,” she said it with the wonder of a new perspective. “What would people think or do if I spoke up every time they kicked me?!” Something in that was actually pretty funny.

Sometimes those kicks and throttles came like buckshot from an unknown someone’s rogue spray, yet those who knew her, those whom she knew, focused and aimed. Something in the connection between she and many people—call it Karma if it makes you feel better— highlighted the bull’s eye that was tattooed on her body or somewhere in her aura. Sara wasn’t quite sure where it really existed. This one was no less on the mark, and this was friendly fire, so to speak.

“Maybe it’s my fault,” Sara said it casually to her friend Nora that day in between sips of their favorite chai tea. “Maybe I’m just masochistic enough, or guilty enough, that I point, saying, ‘it’s right here! Just a little to the right and up. There you go! Now you’re on target!’”

Anyway, this night, with all the pillows around her, she really wanted to drift off to sleep like she had several nights before, with a smile on her face, love in her heart, and two sweeeeet, sweet kit cats at the foot of the bed.

“Ah. That feels good,” she was settling in to clear energy and then read for a bit before she turned out the lights.

Twang! Sara’s tendons and ligaments actually sounded off as her neck lost all muscle control and her head snapped back. “Aughfff. Whoa, where’d that come from?” Sara said it aloud but softly to the cats, wondering why her neck was suddenly hinged back and stuck in place. “It’s never come at me like this before–from the front!”

—————————————–

“I need your help,” it came as whisper to the light beings she knew were up there beyond that familiar black cloud. “I need your help, please help me. Why am I being challenged so much in this life?” Sara went to sleep with hopelessness in her voice and the old familiar loneliness in her heart.

“Why can’t I see you? Why can’t this be finished? I’ve worked so hard,” Sara was crying now. The tears came freely; it was the only outlet. Her back was too fragile to sob as deeply and convulsively as she really wanted, and needed.

“THREE, THREE, THREE! Three, three, three!” she chanted, doing the simplest possible proactive thing she could imagine, fading into a night of desperation. More softly now, “three, three, three.”

It’s All in the Numbers

Sara fell asleep with joy written all over her face. She felt in her bones, and for the first time in, well, maybe years, she awakened with budding enthusiasm for a new day.

“Finally!” She threw off the covers, stood naked in her bedroom window, exclaiming it to the world. “I woke up!” Something really subtle had happened the day before, yet the resulting shift in her deepest sense of herself was dramatic.

Five years before, her mentor Serge had mentioned a key to her, something she needed to find before she could unlock the power of her destiny.

“There’s a hidden key someplace; your own key, hidden very well before you were born. You not only hid it well, you encoded its location in something very simple. So simple, you’ll laugh aloud when you figure it out because it was always right in front of your face.” He laughed in amusement and never called again.

It had been almost 5 years since she’d spoken to him.

About a month ago Sara had a faint glimmer of memory—a baby star of truth in her mind that led her down what she thought was an ego path. In fact, as she sat her computer each day looking up meanings and symbology for the Triple Goddess, she was faintly ashamed at how she might have come to this conclusion so she stopped looking. It took another few weeks to get back to the task because she honestly figured it was all born from insecurity and self-loathing, a need for some outer reflection that she was okay.

“It was true,” she thought to herself. “I was right, it was born out of neediness and feeling unsupported. “I was searching for a reason to like myself, yet in the long run it didn’t matter why. All that matters is finding the links that lead me to my own personal key!” She was light and joyous, flitting around like a hummingbird.

The key was hidden in her birthdate numerology: 3-3-3. There were only 18, maybe 20 possibilities for three three’s. People born with that combination of numbers still would have to have been born after 1900. Before that, they would already be dead.

It was the sign of the Ascended Masters.

Copyright 2012 The Energetic Connection

Agreements

It was time.

Sara was both elated and fully spent after months of moving energy, shifting out of the old morphogenic field, the one she’d occupied with all her old friends.  She broke the agreements they’d made, just like they’d all said they would, long ago, in another world.

And because of that preparation, she could access the incredible golden light of the angelic realms more frequently now, whereas in the past, she’d only known, or maybe she’d always just pretended they were there.

Today she was both celebrating and testing the waters by taking a great chance going to lunch with someone still tied to that past. She’d be brushing up against the edge of that old territory with a friend who wasn’t really part of the destiny she’d collided with back in the winter months, yet it was someone who’d been pulled into the surging currents along the periphery of that energy field a few years back. Hovering in the outer rings all this time, the woman had only recently begun to navigate the maelstrom of its center.

Tables now fully turned, it was a strange set of circumstances at best. Sara was the outcast and this woman was in her place, with her old friends, taking up the space in her old field of influence. It was like meeting the new girlfriend of an ex-husband.

And even though Sara wanted nothing to do with that old group, she leaped out of the car, practically running to the restaurant door, enthusiastic about her lunch with Teresa. It had been three months since their last meeting, back when everything was still ripe and painfully acute.

Smiling, she scanned the restaurant, her energy field searching for that friendly signal or a vibration she remembered. “Where is she?” Nothing felt familiar, none of the old bright-eyed energy wafted through the air to meet her today. “Oh, there she is,” Sara’s hand went up immediately to wave hello when saw the face.

There, in the back corner was Teresa, standing up slowly, avoiding eye contact as she shuffled forward in flip-flops and a baggy old sun dress. As she approached, Sara noticed there was no make-up, not even a hint of mascara. Teresa’s posture was saggy and her sun-tanned skin looked wrinkled well beyond her 40 years.

She could feel the others’ presence hiding within Teresa. They were in her words and the tone of her voice, her mannerisms and the masculine way she held herself, and mostly in her lack of receptivity. There was a coldness in her eyes, maybe a deadness; at the very least her eyes were vacant and hard.

Later that same day, Sara glided into the underworld where she met her guides. Wordlessly, the instruction came through loud and clear.

“Go to the place where it all began, “ they said it in unison. “Speak from your soul to theirs. Break the agreements once again and remind them of their oaths to the Creators. You are to be alone now, learning to embrace your essence and your power within. They are three, because you are three and you always have been three.” It was like a song or a chant as the tones of their voices harmonized the information without words.  Three guides, three old friends, three of Sara. “The missing piece can be found in your commitment to the triple Goddess.

“She is gestating inside you, yet to be born.”

 

Copyright 2012 The Energetic Connection

Falling

Both the sea and sky roiled in anger as Sara watched through the window from her seat above the cliff.

She was a passenger in her own car and the symbolism really pissed her off.

“What’s wrong with me? Why do I continue to choose men who abuse me? Why can’t I just stand up, tell the truth and walk away?” She knew the answer, yet wasn’t ready to face it.

This lookout was the place they’d made love and as well, the place where war had broken out repetitively.

Sometime in the middle of their relationship, one of his ex-girlfriends came to Sara with a story about how Daniel had taken her on a romantic drive into the country one day. Unexpectedly he’d begun yelling and flailing at her, the car swerving towards a death crash with every swing of his arm. His profanities and accusations had sliced her to the bone before he’d finally spun the car around in a gravel turnout on some old unmarked highway and told her to get out. When she wouldn’t, he’d reached over, opened the door and pushed her onto the ground, speeding away.

Today, on the edge of the western sea, Sara sat motionless in the car as she always did during her visions, until she was rousted by a hot foreign energy breathing into her face.

“I just don’t get these visions of yours and honestly I don’t believe you even have them!” He turned toward her, his large frame hovering, his arms practically engulfing her after slapping both the dashboard and the head rest. She had no place to go, she couldn’t even turn fast enough to open the door and run.

And the only real safety she would ever have from Daniel and all the other men who came before him, was deep self-inquiry and fearless reflection about her past choices. The only real safety was to make the only choice she knew she needed to make.

Little did her conscious mind know that night, she would be awakened abruptly in the early morning hours by a swift kick to her low back. Little had she ever envisioned as a possibility, she would awaken a second time that morning, in the hospital, with the man who’d beaten her sitting by her side, holding her hand, crying into the stiff white hospital sheets.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012

Monsters in the Night

Sara spent a lot of time dreaming.

Daily yoga sessions helped her stay in this world.

Only then would she allow herself to relax her mind and go into the visions again. Only at the end, in Savasana. Today it was a remembering of something past, something about her brother.

Fully awake and aware, she drifted easily into another dimension, to the bathroom in the house where she and her little brother lived when they were in grammar school.

In the early hours before dawn, it was usually the screams that framed the scene and its timing, letting her know where and when. Besides, her brother had finally stopped screaming when they moved out of that house, leading Sara to believe it was over, forever. And even as an adult exploring the horrors of the past, this was one of the most frightening experiences Sara had ever remembered.

Bursting through the bathroom doorway, she saw an awfully familiar sight. That beautiful 3-year-old towhead turned around so fast, she could hear his spine bones crunching. “Ouggghh.” Sara wanted to throw up.

What came out his mouth as his head spun was unintelligible, though the wave of ice-cold air blasting out of his mouth was an obvious command. The intentions of whatever had consumed her brother was most certainly malevolent.

Watching that contorted little face and the agony in his eyes, she heard the fear in his moans deep underneath that frigid message. Staring still, frozen in space, she knew he was in there somewhere, so she waited, listening to the cries of a little boy held captive by a beast in his own body.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012

Memoirs of a 12-year-old

Sara lay sleeping in her grandparents guest bed, dreaming of all the mod, wide-striped clothing and colorful little plastic things she wanted at the K-Mart down on the corner. Wandering through that store alone, by herself, was freedom.

Soon her dreams were disturbed by a deep cringing in her bones and an ache in her groin, like she wanted to jump out of her skin and run, a feeling she’d noticed first on that day, in that bed.

Imprisoned in a body consumed with bone cringes and groin aches that came and went over the years in different situations, she found many ways to avoid her Mother. Sometimes the pain arose when the woman wanted to kiss her hello or goodbye, other times while hugging closely, and strangely, always while her Mother ate. Sara couldn’t bear to be in her presence as she watched the chomping and talking, all with her mouth open, food falling from that horrible trench in her face.

She became an unwilling expert in dimensional shifts.

Sara talked about these discombobulated feelings with therapists, spiritual teachers, psychic readers and friends during 20-plus years of self-exploration. Sometimes even a few pictures would appear as her words carved out the emotional scene, winding-up her body so tensely, her head would shake.

Out of all those people, and all those years, no one really understood what she was trying to say until her brother mentioned something off-hand one day. Nearly 40 years after that first benchmark before middle school, she’d found someone who used the very same words, about the very same circumstances, to describe how he felt.

It was a body memory, just like hers. And right there, from inside the boy who had terrorized her as a witness to his own horrific experiences, was the first part of her long-awaited answer, someone who finally and forever, understood.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012