As We Walk Upon The Water

 The Truth is a Resonant Frequency. Sounding above and beyond and within all experience. Like a blanket of The Absolute, it cloaks us in our pursuit of It. The Truth is,  I have been negligent. I muddy my Waters repeatedly. Even As I pray for my Lotus to be fed. There are two worlds, insistent, inside me. One seeks my attention. The other, attentively, seeks me. I confess that my hallways are muddied. I do not understand all events that play out on my screen.  Separation is always the Highlighted Theme. I should really be grateful. For this is the healing of which I have dreamed.  This could all serve as grain for the the hungering bowl of the search for enlightenment. Deep bread of sustenance. On what will I feed? I am an amalgam of need. Playing roles I've carved out. I go forth in this world seeing "others" beside me. Separate and foreign. Miles apart. When viewed from a doorway where judgement presides over Heart. If I cast guilt upon you, I bind you to me. ...

 Hail.  Mary.  Seat of Grace. Deep Womb of Heaven.  Holding Space. Empathic Love flows from Your face,  redeeming us through Your embrace. Thy Mercy is Upon Us. We are the children of the One. We labor forth Thy Kingdom Come In endless Birthings of the Son Who resurrects Within Us. Make us this day Thy daily bread Our Spirits and our footsteps led To Bless these Altars where we're fed As we, in offering, Bow our heads. Shining. Mary. Conscious Sea. I Vow to Pray beside You. I Pray that I may one day Be A ceaseless living Rosary A Bead of Higher Frequency A Mala strung from Inner Luminosity. Holy Mary. Seat of Light. May we Become The Answer  To your prayers for Inner Sight. As we give Birth to Heaven's Child  Through Hallowed Wombs now Vast and Wild Our inner landscapes Newly Born and Reconciled.  I raise my hands to help you hold the Child. As we embrace the Heaven that's been with us all the while. And tenderness becomes the Breath we use to Ble...

 So, I have the Flu. Or, the Flu has me. And I am restless yet in need of rest. Oftentimes writing serves as  elixir to me.  If I can find it inside me to choose the right frequency, hum the right melody, find the right words to sustain us both. It is my medicine. Offered for our mutual well being, when properly mixed. I love a good acronym. But the word "Flu" does not lend itself to poetry. The alchemy is slippery. At first I went with: Feeling Like Underachieving. But that just didn't sound nice. Then I went with: Feeling Less Ubiquitous. But, I'll get back to that. Finally I went with: Not. Covid. Although my test is still in the mail, and this is less than alphabetically correct, I settled on this acronym as chosen mantra. Ubiquitous is a wonderful word. I am newly inspired by its power and purpose.  It means omnipresent, existing everywhere, present and appearing. As I reached for this word, it reached back to me.  As in energy. As in Medicine.  As in ...

My car has gas in it today. And in sub zero weather she started the moment I asked. My eyes could see the key's. My feet could work the pedals. I was leaving to purchase supplies that were needed with money I had, to bring home to the home that I live in. My thoughts noticed all of these blessings. And understood well All the infinite blessings that made up the moment that held me knee deep in my thoughts. The word Zen is a cloak for deep Peace. And Amen testifies to the Truth that it's already so....all my "please's" turn into my "thank you's" ....wherever I go.

 I agonized over what to title this writing. I labored over it for days. Titles are so important. I longed to give proper credit where credit is due. I could easily have called it: "The Zen of the Road Within Us."  Or  "Traveling Altars" Or  "Breadcrumbs on the Water." Sometimes The Muse is mighty.  She comes like a living force and speaks to me in downloads of fully formed concepts and deep understanding. At other times, she leaves me breadcrumbs on the water. In bite sized morsels. Leaving me half starving for a taste of the Truth she comes to offer. She teases me. Showing me images like a kaleidescope. Colors so brilliant, that just one strand could offer you the fullness of a much longed for meal. If only I could find the words. This whole journey started at the feet of the Nuns of Saint Ursula of Saint Clare. It was from the Ursuline Nuns of the small Catholic elementary school of Saint Clare, that I would receive the foundation for all further educat...

 I live in a wee, small house, on a giant lot, flanked by towering trees. The tall trees are Sentry, enduring far more than the winds of this century. They are giants of beauty. Rooted in the fertile, ancient soils of wisdom's ways. My house is 100 years old. She is small but mighty. Compact and sturdy. Still wearing original parts. Though tiny, she offers a coziness of space. She is more like the Dwelling place of a Hobbit, nestled deep in the green of the Shire. Set far back from the busy city street, she is respite and sanctuary. And as any proper habitat for Hobbits would do, she has come complete with a Wizard next door. My Wizard's name is Tim. Though he is Saint Tim, to me. He's rather a fine combination of Gandalf the Grey, meets John the Baptist, meets Francis the beloved of Assisi. He is a full spectrum, deep prism Prophet. St. Tim of the Shire would protest such labels. He does not seek out any fanfare or accolades. He just simply and quietly shovels my driveway....

 I have a small, black cat named Shanti. A rescue from the litter of a feral cat Mother. A Mother not unlike me. And so, I believe, we are kin of sorts. I taught him to come for his meals when I chanted the old Sanskrit prayer, "Om Shanti Shanti".  But he knows me by Heart now and such things are not necessary. The word "Shanti" means Peace. Ironically, this is the one thing he longs for. Shanti and I can converse telepathically. As I prepare to go into a daily meditation, I need speak no words out loud. From whatever perch he sits upon to survey his kingdom, once I go into The Silence Within, Shanti comes to accompany me.  He is well versed in The Silence I seek. He comes prepared to assist. Without hesitation, he leaps to my lap and assumes his own Prayer Pose. Head bowed. Arms and legs extended down the length of my own. He purrs me into the Peace we were both born to Be. My loved ones fear I tell tall tails. They have never seen this "Shanti" of whom I...

 Have you any idea The vast rays of Starlight That had to align at this time To become Daily Bread Where you now bow your head? -The Farmer who Planted the Seed. -The Carpenter crafting the wood to prepare you a Seat. -The Architect Dreaming the Dwelling Space where you now eat. Have you any idea how such proper Grace Could Grace us With Presence  In Awe of this Place Where Blessing Requested Is Blessing Received Long before we sit down at these Tables  To Eat.

 The Whole of Winter is a Tabernacle Tapestry.  A living Altar speaking Spirit through Her Winds. Always, She draws me in.  And leads me Home. I have to find the Warmth from deep Within my Bones. The endless gray of Day's. The leafless Trees. In constant interplay That moves me to my Knees. There is Such Beauty Here. Once I release the fear. Allowing Winter's Wisdom to ignite what Burns in me. The Candle's Lit Within. Warming what Breathes in me. And I become a Willow Weeping only  Songs of Blessing To Caress the View I See. Crystal Eternity Dancing before my eyes Here in these Winter Skies. Reflecting Altars of The Holy that Reside in me Once I step In To View What Winter always Knew.

 I have often been accused of wearing rose colored glasses. I assure you this is not the case. I wear prescription lenses. With Rainbow Prisms to Refract the Light. This eases the blurring of the Two Worlds I See. I may need an adjustment soon. But writing you these words helps me reestablish my Focus. To "Refract" is a Verb meaning: Changing the Direction of a Ray of Light as it enters at an angle. Refraction, then, is the Bending of Light as it moves from one substance or medium to the next. I Pray to be a Medium of Substance. Sending You only wild Rays of our Innocent Purity. I Am Choosing to stay Focused. While on this Earth, there may always be, two worlds I see. One is erupting in insanity. The Other - Calm and Tranquil and Translucent as a Droplet of Infinity. I must Choose the World that Lives inside of me. The One I offer You, each time our Souls may Speak. If I could write prescriptions I would offer you my Rainbow Prism Lense. So You could Bend the Light with me An...

 I am Channeling The Muse Who's come To Call. Who wants to Share the Beauty Of it All. Who wants to Inspire and Guide You. Rekindle the Fire Inside You. And Walk Like An Angel Beside You. By these Words May I Bless You and Keep You. By these Words May I Honor Your Name and the fact that You came. By these Words May I Love You and Hold You. Shining Light on the Truth You Proclaim. By these Words May I lend You such Grace That assures you safekeeping inside of this Space And holds out a Hand of Thanksgiving  To Thank You for Walking with me in this place.

 Writing is like Dentistry.  It can be painful but necessary. Certain Roots may be Exposed. It can offer us something to Chew on. Something Nutritious that fills us and Serves. Whether Shaken or Stirred. Writing leaves one vulnerable and open to examination. Trusting the Good Doctor to Be Kind with The Truth. I cut my own teeth on the Wisdom of others, where my lips formed their  Prayers of Response. My Wisdom teeth long since extracted, I am left now with only these Words. And a Prayer that upon inspection, they may one day be suitable for  Teething.  And other such Mysteries of that which Grows Within Us. And that which seeks Relief.

 Even tumultuous Waves are made of Holy Water. Even dry Shores hold the Kiss of Fresh Springs in their sparkling Sands. Do not let the Storms of the Rivers confuse you. They are Baptismal. Calling you forward. Moving you on. Through the great Sea of Mystery Shining inside You Sparkling and Holy Reflecting the journey of Light As it moves Across  Water While Held  In the Deep Of the Fluid Still Waters Beneath.

 My Mother has become my Child. Our labor has been difficult and painful. I have had to bare down, and breathe, and ride the contractions. Eventually, We Arrived. There are so many shadows inside me. Seeking safe passage to Light. She has helped me to see them. All the labels and longings, false notions and great expectations I've heaped onto Her are exhausting. I Released them all with the final push of Her birth inside me. These words I write with are really quite impossible carriers of Truth. They are inadequate containers. They are too many and too few and not nearly enough. Let's just take the word "Mother"  for instance. So provocative. Such an Invocation. Holding only the meaning of He Who Speaks It to She Who Hears It to We Who Inhabit It. There are initials we use that are also conductors of vast emotion. At times they evoke great waves of tender compassion.  They are initials such as:  CHF.  MS.  ALS. But my Mother has C.O.P.D.  It is not so ...

 I had to see the eye Doctor today. And not a moment too soon. It has been so long since I could afford the luxury of such care. And that has proven quite costly. Things have started happening. Images have been appearing on my screen. Images I could not make sense of, reconcile or understand. For a moment there it all got so blurry. I thought I saw a world on fire. A world gone mad. A world in peril. I've had to catch myself from time to time. And Choose to Focus. So as not to lose Sight. The loop of dramas and calamities played endlessly before me. But this False Evidence Appearing Real, is what the Doctor sought to Heal. For things were not as they had seemed, and clearer Sight could be redeemed. Proper Vision Care is Vital. And of great consequence. The good Doctor assures me. There are Clouds in my eyes. But there is Remedy. With a shift of precision We'll make the incision And come back into View. Clear Sighted and Keen My Vision Redeemed By removing the Clouds that had da...

 America I beg of Thee Use this as Opportunity Become the One you claim to be Choose well your future History We leave Our Children legacies That Echo through our Shining Seas Their footsteps lie in you and me Establishing in Unity A Brand New Possibility Restoring Soul Supremacy Safeguarding Heart and Dignity America Choose what you See And who you hope to one day Be The day is now It's Midnight on the dawning Of Our Remedy.

 I have a painting that hangs on my bedroom wall. It was painted by a dear friend long ago by the Voice in her Heart. It is a painting of Mother Mary of Nazareth. Walking On Water. There is an old Greek word often associated with Her. The word, "Theotokos",  means God-Bearer. When I go to Her, as I often do, She teaches me fiercely and softly. The folds of Her robes contain every Mystery yet to unravel. She assures me that My Sons are Holy, too. And that God is born anew each day inside us all  each time His Breath is Blessed by the Yes of an Inhale. My boys were given the impossible task of being born to a mother who had not yet fully incarnated. In their younger years I was always in search of that something, someway, somewhere, out there...that would lead me Home. The years have taught me.  If only I'd learned to sit still in the midst of their stained glass eyes...all my longings would cease. My Sons keep getting on airplanes. I am grateful for their daring thems...

 I have been in the process of trying to offer my inner landscapes on pages through writing. This is done As a Prayer and Communion. To share in the journey. To billow forth love onto God. Through you. I offer these Prayers as Sanctuary and Daily Sabbath and Safe Havens of rest and reflection. I must tell you here, that I kneel at all Altars where Love is revered as Truth, and Truth unfolds as knowledge of the fact that we are already Free. As a subscriber to the Voice for God in all the languages that God may speak.....I receive many messages in my email inbox. Now, keeping in mind my new daily prayer...which is breadcrumb offerings I give to you from the Voice of the Soul of my Heart.... Here is the first message I was sent today... "I was in the Spirit on the Lord's day, and I heard behind me a loud voice like the sound of a trumpet, saying, "Write in a book what you see, and send it to the seven churches." Revelation 1:10 NASB Now I do not claim to be a Prophet. ...

 If the Body is Temple to the Soul  Then the eyes are its Stained Glass Windows. And that's where you'll find my Children. I've been trying to find the right colors and hues, the right prisms and spectrums to paint into words that embrace them long after I'm gone. But how do you wrap love like that in a word long enough to endure great expanses of time...that collapse to align with the ever and always eternal. Have you ever seen sunlight awaken in rays through a stained glass window? The Windows make Way for the Light. That is what they are born for. They empty themselves of all shadow, yet they know the true Wisdom of Clouds. Even Clouds contain Light.  I have learned every possible thing of importance while the eyes of my children looked back into mine. They've taught me all I've ever truly needed to know.   They've been High Priest and Counsel. Physician and Alchemist. Tender and Merciful bearers of Light. They forgive me and hold me and trust me, even as...

 So Here we are.  At the Beginning. Arriving. Reflecting. And I will take a very deep breath, before sharing with you my very first steps in Walking On Water. Not long ago, the Love of my Life left this world. By his own hand.  He threw himself on his sword. Some call that suicide.  But I know the deeper truth of such exits, and wish to broadcast my love and compassion to all who've arrived at this particular doorway. On either side. Some would say that I dishonor him by writing these words. But that would not be possible. For He is the very metal and scope of the DNA inside me that is forged by Life to become the Heart of Honor. Precisely one week after his entrance into next door realms, another beloved decided to exit through the same doorway. But this did not come to pass. And the tumultuous waters of the shipwreck were stilled on her behalf. On Earth I was given a "trauma team". And I will always be grateful. But that's also when the first steps occurred. Upon h...

 I've come to think of my blogs as broadcast towers. Billowing. Love. Onto. God. Through your eyes. That's what we're all doing anyways. We're broadcasting through our thoughts. We're relaying our points of reflection. Spilling our perspectives out into the great Sea of Consciousness. Swimming in the infinite Oneness as we beam forth the view from a Wave.  What will we Wave at today? What signal will we send forth to ripple the Waters? As the points of View of God, we are in Divine Dialogue at all times. Sending and Receiving. What is the message we send forth this day? What is our Vision of the World we Behold, as we View it as Reflections of Divinity? We are continually reporting our impressions of it all back to Home Base.  I choose at all times to be mindful of Billowing. Love. Onto. God. Billowing is soft. Like a Cloud. Or a Pillow. It is allowing and comforting and spacious. It can be a container for Tears. And Rest. And Dreams of Sky. And Oceans made of Raind...

 I am such a devotee of T.S. Eliot that I know the initials stand for Thomas Stearns. I admittedly confess that at times I have no idea what he's talking about. And yet, the way he says it, leaves me begging for more. He leaves me breadcrumbs leading into the forest deep. And then he leaves me there. Where I never knew I belonged. Alone and wrapped in the mystery. He mentions at times, the wild roses, that "have the look of roses that are looked at." And he points out "the life of significant soil". "The life of significant soil." Oh to be such a thing! Maybe blog posts are like park benches where I can offer breadcrumbs to those who pass me by. Breadcrumbs of the communion of Being. Served with the Holy Water of Deep, ridiculous, impossible and unbearable Hope...The kind of Hope that the falling leaves whisper down through the root of the Trees.. The Hope that feeds the Life of significant soil.

 I am new to the realm of the blogosphere. One day I may tell you about my perilous journey towards this landing place. I may tell you about the free blog hosting that only cost me $40, or the little Tablet that could - and could not. But I will leave that for another day. For Today, I have gratefully been reminded, is a Sabbath Day. There is no better word for what I hope you will encounter on these pages. It is you who have brought me here, you who have led me and guided me towards Altars of Hope, and encounters with the Mystery. Life is fueled by utter Holiness. It is the inherent fire of it all...perpetually burning, though at times, in our weariness, overlooked. Here, on these pages, we will look more closely at the wonder of it all. We will bow our Hearts, and thank each other, for noticing the vast expanse of Heaven. Right Here before us and shining deep within us. On Earth As It Is. My beloved friend shared these perfect words with me this morning. I share them with you bel...

 Sometimes. Things just take time. And deep breathing. And friends offering mighty winds to your weary sails. Sometimes. Things are born in still waters of deep patience and perseverance. The Waters know the way and will show us,  if we dare ourselves to dive. Thank you for sitting with me here  on these pages.  I hope to offer you Breadcrumbs of deep Communion. To strengthen and nourish you as you Journey through great Oceans and Rivers of Life. Unfurling in Mystery. Leading us ever and always to where we now stand. To the Home of the Heart, where the Journey began. These are Breadcrumbs of fervent Thanksgiving. For the Wonders this Journey contains.  The deep Eddies and rippling Whirlpools. The Tides that roll out to the Shores of all that which Remains. Take my hand as We Journey Together. And Our One Heart Proclaims its Amen.