Twelve Holy Nights
Pray, Dear Ones, please pray. Or send your Positive energies for healing and hope.
He's not just a dog. He's THE DOG, right now. And I do totally respect his choices for staying in this world or going to the next, but it just doesn't seem to be the right time for other members of his packif her were to choose to go now. So, I'll jsut pray and Believe that All is well, all shall be well. And I've asked my own pack of angel-dogs and spirit-wolves to surround and support with healing, presence and power. I'm standing there, too, with open arms and heart.
These Twelve Holy Nights as they are called, according to ancient lore, are nights of dreams, understanding, heart yearnings, communication between the Holy and Here, and windows to clarity. I have been paying attention and remembering with almost hysterical attention to detail, the dreams of each night. They have color, sound, depth, storyline, differentiation, and elements of significance for my present situation. The one the night before last taught me about my present state of "being able to take care of myself" and dealing with whatever comes (so I hope and believe). In a nutshell, I was teaching up at St. Anne's again, but it was no longer a white, upper class yuppie neighborhood. The neighborhood and local population had become that of the public school in Montgomery. Alabama. Poverty, violence, some hopelessness. The principal at the school was the same one from back then-an Iron Maiden. I learned alot from her while she was my mentor for my principal's credential program at the time. In the dream, I witnessed the rape of a young black boy about 9 by three gang members. I was on the front steps of school in a bright yellow dress. Everyone else was in church. i had slipped across the street to pick something up in my 5th grade classroom and saw the rape happening in the car as they drove by. The kid's eyes met mine as they drove by and as they were hurting him.(NB: Interestingly enough, I was single, had no children or dogs of my own, and had no more brothers, sisters, and family in the neighborhood. Yet, I loved my job and my little cottage up there on Q. A.) I was wearing a bright, yellow dress that I had had in the 80's, one that I loved and that always called attention to me. I narked on the gang members to the police. The kid was both thankful and resentful that I had done this. His parents were not. They were pissed that someone had caused their boy more trouble. Only the kid and I knew that it was me that had turned the bad guys in. They were convicted and went to prison. The gang members began to seek out the person in the yellow dress to do her harm. Only three other women that day in the community had been wearing yellow dresses. The principal was one of them, too. I watched them corner her and she responded to their threats with grace and power. And they seemed to leave her alone as she locked herself back into the school, but I saw them slip a screwdriver unbeknownst to her under a sliding door so they could come back later. I also knew that eventually they would find out it had been me, and that didn't bother me. I knew I could take care of myself and I also knew that it didn't matter if I died. The other side of the Good-bye Door is a portal to Beloveds and Beauty, and it is just as REAL as this ordinary reality. More so. I have tasted it more than once. I have also "Seen" there on more than one occasion. It is not far. It is so close. It is a happy, pain-free Place.
Last night's Dream was about the adoption. In this reality this week, there were more emails from my social worker and the agency itself. They seem to be having trouble putting all the pieces of the present paperwork together, or even opening important stuff I sendback over the email. When that happens, I just make hard copies and hand-deliver them to the agency in Renton. Then they chase me in the parking lot saying that they don't have copies of other important pieces that I sent to the social worker WEEKS ago and could I get more copies of that. Then I get emails from teh social worker saying that they finally got stuff opened and not to worry about the other pieces of info..blah, blah, blah. And I am in this place of peace-can't describe it except to say that it is like standing on a big piece of green Alaskan jade rock in the middle of a river and watching all this swirl around me
and by me, knowing that if I stay on the rock, what I am waiting for will drop out of the sky to this spot exactly into my waiting arms and then I will hop off and off we will go. I have a great vantage point from there. I am not cold or lonely or bored. Just there and content with it. Last night's Dream was about just this. I went from being at the Field with the kittens and playing with them, to wanting to go to Gerald Ford's local funeral rites-something to do, not because I had any sort of feelings or even respect for him (although I do believe he was a decent man in a difficult spot). It was a "MUD DREAM". I left the funeral early and was walking home in the pouring rain with no coat and it was mud-where you can't move hardly at all-lifting your feet like they are encased in cement and then I got lost even though everything in the dream was extremely familiar (on Queen Anne again-go figure). When I couldn't find my way home, in the past I would have SCREAMED with rage and frustration until I woke up or kicked ass on someone or forced someone to show me how to get what I needed and wanted. this time, it was "Oh, okay. I'll just make myself comfortable under this warm overhang and go in to have a cup of coffee" until I can figure out another plan." And that's what I did. Hmmmm...
I'm sleeping alot. Sharing with friends alot. Savoring the restoration of spirit-alot. Looking forward to the movies today with taller than me kids...and lunch at Breadstick Heaven with Jacob!
Pray, Dear Ones, please pray. Or send your Positive energies for healing and hope.
He's not just a dog. He's THE DOG, right now. And I do totally respect his choices for staying in this world or going to the next, but it just doesn't seem to be the right time for other members of his packif her were to choose to go now. So, I'll jsut pray and Believe that All is well, all shall be well. And I've asked my own pack of angel-dogs and spirit-wolves to surround and support with healing, presence and power. I'm standing there, too, with open arms and heart.
These Twelve Holy Nights as they are called, according to ancient lore, are nights of dreams, understanding, heart yearnings, communication between the Holy and Here, and windows to clarity. I have been paying attention and remembering with almost hysterical attention to detail, the dreams of each night. They have color, sound, depth, storyline, differentiation, and elements of significance for my present situation. The one the night before last taught me about my present state of "being able to take care of myself" and dealing with whatever comes (so I hope and believe). In a nutshell, I was teaching up at St. Anne's again, but it was no longer a white, upper class yuppie neighborhood. The neighborhood and local population had become that of the public school in Montgomery. Alabama. Poverty, violence, some hopelessness. The principal at the school was the same one from back then-an Iron Maiden. I learned alot from her while she was my mentor for my principal's credential program at the time. In the dream, I witnessed the rape of a young black boy about 9 by three gang members. I was on the front steps of school in a bright yellow dress. Everyone else was in church. i had slipped across the street to pick something up in my 5th grade classroom and saw the rape happening in the car as they drove by. The kid's eyes met mine as they drove by and as they were hurting him.(NB: Interestingly enough, I was single, had no children or dogs of my own, and had no more brothers, sisters, and family in the neighborhood. Yet, I loved my job and my little cottage up there on Q. A.) I was wearing a bright, yellow dress that I had had in the 80's, one that I loved and that always called attention to me. I narked on the gang members to the police. The kid was both thankful and resentful that I had done this. His parents were not. They were pissed that someone had caused their boy more trouble. Only the kid and I knew that it was me that had turned the bad guys in. They were convicted and went to prison. The gang members began to seek out the person in the yellow dress to do her harm. Only three other women that day in the community had been wearing yellow dresses. The principal was one of them, too. I watched them corner her and she responded to their threats with grace and power. And they seemed to leave her alone as she locked herself back into the school, but I saw them slip a screwdriver unbeknownst to her under a sliding door so they could come back later. I also knew that eventually they would find out it had been me, and that didn't bother me. I knew I could take care of myself and I also knew that it didn't matter if I died. The other side of the Good-bye Door is a portal to Beloveds and Beauty, and it is just as REAL as this ordinary reality. More so. I have tasted it more than once. I have also "Seen" there on more than one occasion. It is not far. It is so close. It is a happy, pain-free Place.
Last night's Dream was about the adoption. In this reality this week, there were more emails from my social worker and the agency itself. They seem to be having trouble putting all the pieces of the present paperwork together, or even opening important stuff I sendback over the email. When that happens, I just make hard copies and hand-deliver them to the agency in Renton. Then they chase me in the parking lot saying that they don't have copies of other important pieces that I sent to the social worker WEEKS ago and could I get more copies of that. Then I get emails from teh social worker saying that they finally got stuff opened and not to worry about the other pieces of info..blah, blah, blah. And I am in this place of peace-can't describe it except to say that it is like standing on a big piece of green Alaskan jade rock in the middle of a river and watching all this swirl around me
and by me, knowing that if I stay on the rock, what I am waiting for will drop out of the sky to this spot exactly into my waiting arms and then I will hop off and off we will go. I have a great vantage point from there. I am not cold or lonely or bored. Just there and content with it. Last night's Dream was about just this. I went from being at the Field with the kittens and playing with them, to wanting to go to Gerald Ford's local funeral rites-something to do, not because I had any sort of feelings or even respect for him (although I do believe he was a decent man in a difficult spot). It was a "MUD DREAM". I left the funeral early and was walking home in the pouring rain with no coat and it was mud-where you can't move hardly at all-lifting your feet like they are encased in cement and then I got lost even though everything in the dream was extremely familiar (on Queen Anne again-go figure). When I couldn't find my way home, in the past I would have SCREAMED with rage and frustration until I woke up or kicked ass on someone or forced someone to show me how to get what I needed and wanted. this time, it was "Oh, okay. I'll just make myself comfortable under this warm overhang and go in to have a cup of coffee" until I can figure out another plan." And that's what I did. Hmmmm...
I'm sleeping alot. Sharing with friends alot. Savoring the restoration of spirit-alot. Looking forward to the movies today with taller than me kids...and lunch at Breadstick Heaven with Jacob!
posted by MihErn @ 8:09 AM
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