Remembering Places of Green

There's a dip in the road
on the way to my Grandmother's house
where the Willow tree bends its
long long leaves, on long long branches
down over the charcoal bitumen
Its trunk stuck deep into the creek bank mud
anchored well against the rush of
thunderstorm swellings
that spill over the road, making a river
the muddy wash and pebbles and stones
green fern, green algae, green leaves
in the dip in the road
on the way to my Grandmother's house.

We had two pine trees
out the front of my house
that had dark, black bark, rough and nubbly
it tore at my skin as I climbed
and my dress was far to good for climbing
but my bare feet gripped the trunk
and I could get up to the branches
by jumping up on the rocks
covered in lichen stains
where we'd catch green tree frogs
tiny ones, that skipped over my skin
onto my dress, to rest in my palm
then we'd scratch the bark off to let the
sap flow, and collect the amber gooey
to dry and use as treasure
from the pine trees
that were at the front of my house.

The rainforest was my favourite trip
because of the walk down the tracks
where I had to wear 'good shoes'
so they could get muddy
and then I could clean off
the rich red sludge

from the walk down the tracks
through the rainforest.

My tree was a 'leopard tree'
at the corner of the concrete slab
my Dad had layed years ago
next to the natural spring
at the back of our yard, near the fence
where I played with my brother's
cars and trucks and animals
making garages and houses in the
hollows of the tree roots
digging out the rich black and red soil
making roads with my spade
under my leopard tree
at the corner of the concrete slab.

The field that had clover patches with buzzing bees
and sweet smelling grass across the road
often threshed by the old man and
his loud, smelly tractor
where we'd make 'houses' of hay
not noticing that we'd scared
the black and brown snakes away
with our raucous playing,
racing the tricycle around,
"yahooing and carrying on" as
my parents used to say when
we came home from playing
on the field with clover patches and buzzing bees
and sweet smelling grass across the road.

Spirit Rescues

I've been dreaming up a storm since the Eclipse. MonDieu! The night of the flooding in Grantham I was 'hooned' into a vision. I had been deliberately not meditating because of all the calling out that was happening. I'd overwhelmed, so needed to step back and sort out home. Just on the edge of sleep someone swooped in and took me flying.

I do know I felt slightly irritated, adventurous, and curious as to why they'd done this kind of thing, coming in and extracting me uninvited. There was Purpose in this, but I didn't feel confident I was up to it. I relaxed, trusted in them, and went into the vision.

Taken to a highpoint in the sky overlooking the flooded landscape at the edge of sunset. The light peeping through a break of cloud on the horizon I saw the world as islands in water. Glinting light. Muddy colours and green everywhere. I saw rainbow shapes zooming up, turning, surveying and then swooping down quickly to the water. The savage rushing shown to me, but I know I wasn't near it, I was up high and safe. What where these rainbows doing? I looked and looked. One of them looked back to me, eyes met, and then I was 'on board' getting the 'birds-eye-view'. Down swiftly to the torrent, branches, trees, mud, things, and then the body. Broken and limp, caught in debris. Then, Pink and Violet 'fuzz' floating. I look down and see it caught in rainbow arms, or arm like shapes, as we soared higher and higher above it all.

Then the emotion. Then the feeling of utter exhaustion, utter depleted human energy, utter confusion. Rainbow shapes soothing the Pink and Violet fuzzy things. A retreat into slumber for it. A relaxing into the next journey.

I was being shown a Spirit Rescue.

So grateful. So overwhelmed with gratitude for being shown this thing that had been on my Mind and in my Heart. "who looks after the babies and the ones who aren't aware when they die? who shows them the way on?"

They are looked after. They are held in the arms of Angels and moved forward towards their New.

Solar Eclipse Dreams - White Spider and Webs

Ok, so a few months ago during 2010, I had a succession of spider related dreams.

(I should be writing up a report for a client but w t h...I want to do this instead, seems like that kind of day where things that 'should be' done are going to get shoved to the back of the line!)

This dream was sort of short, and it was set in my current house, in my current bedroom, so it was quite trippy to wake up. In this dream I was waking up in my bedroom, so I had this sense of confusion and displacement in Time when I actually did wake up 'for real'.

I am sleeping fitfully, and envisioning spiders in my dream (inside my dream) which wake me up. As I sit up in bed finally, ... I've tossed and turned for a while beforehand, ... I brush my head with my hands and something light and feathery is felt on the back of my hand as I run it through my hair.

The morning light shows me this infinitely delicate open weave web, strung above my bed, all the way across the ceiling of my room. Its pearly bright white. Just brilliant. I'm inbetween freaking out about the spider that's made this and completely in awe of how beautiful it is. I get up slowly stroking the fine sticky weave, and move around to the door of the bedroom.

I see a white spider in the web, and its not so big at all, so I leave it, and watch its shiny back, like a crab's shell. It fascinates me. Then a caramel coloured spider moves out of the 'funnel' in the web, and this one starts to move towards me at the door of the room. I see myself squash it, but it doesn't die. Then I'm freeze framing back to the same point where I see it emerge from the funnel of the web that's oddly come down right next to the bed in the middle of the floor, and each time I get the choice to watch it, move, see where it goes,...or kill it. This repeats and repeats. Each option opening to me again and again.

I wake up (for real) and feel quite odd not to see my spider web festoon above the bed.
Angelina is wailing for attention (at times she wakes up noisily) and even so, I'm drawn to the spot on the other side of the bed where the caramel coloured spider was. Its not there, there is nothing here but my bedroom, and the sweaty skin of a turbulent night.

frost covered webs in my mother-in-laws garden...she sent me these before solstice 2010,    and I thought they were just beautiful :) This is about the look of the webs that were festooned above the bed, but the web there was all one big one, with a funnel coming down to the floor on one side of the bed...

I've been struggling with the presumption that money equals waste. That people with lots of money waste it on crappy things like champagne and clothes, silly parties for their children where they don't interact with them, its all just to impress other people. Wealth isn't that to me, but I'm equating wealthy life with money, and money with wealthy life. And so if I eschew a money filled life I subconsciously fulfill my own sense of integrity, in a very fuqd way. Subconscious sabotage of the Wealth manifestation. I kill that caramel coloured spider just because its not 'pure white', and I'm even slightly worried about integrity too.
Webs are significant and that they are so big is also significant. I feel like I  am in a constant state of creation, preparation, action and yet not completing things. It all looks beautiful, but its busy and time consuming. I want to get to the place where the spider finishes her web, sits back to catch a few flies to feast on, and mate with the next available male that wanders around. ;]

The new mantra for 2011 for Chinut

This is taken from Mystic Medusa's Thrive Guide for 2011...she's brill :)
As an Aquarian, Scorpio Rising...I just need as much hoodoo as I can functionally take in and utilise. Anyone got some spare memory banks for a brain?

Solar Eclipse Dreams - Raggedy Hippy Guide

Have to write this down even though it doesn't seem to want to fade ...

In this dream I am in a country town in a time past, but it felt like somewhere just a bit further out from 'suburbia'. There were still lots of wooden houses, sheds and buildings that kind of 'homestead' like construction, and the people looked like they were 19th Century Australian immigrants. All homespun cotton and thick wool britches. The 'town' itself was tiny and quiet. Just a few streets with only one two storey building 'down the road' a bit. It was out of my sight but I knew it was there. The gum trees were still around. The land hand not been cleared, and the houses where slat shaks here and there, joined by dirt roads.

What clearly comes to mind is the texture of the roads. They are pathways about a two carts wide, and there are semi dried tracks all the way through them...as if it had rained hard a day or two ago, and the earth was drying out to a travelling ability for people and carts.

I meet up with some people and find they are friends. We chat, talk about travelling somewhere for something. The town is very quiet, these are the only people I see and they are standing under the awning of their shak. There is no-one in the street. As I turn to walk away I am for some unknown reason feeling like I need to get out of there quickly. Urgency begins to take over and I examine a white drawstring sack I've loaded up with stuff. Lolling that onto my back I trudge up the road and into the bush. The weather is hot and sunny, and I look forward to trees covering the road so I can get some shade, but as I walk the sun beats down on me, heating me, my skin seems to burn beneath my cotton shirt.

Raggedy Hippy Guide meets me there. He's kind of intensely perfect. His beard is short but his hair is long and caught up here and there with knots and ties. He's even got it shoved up under his hat which at first I think is like a Derby style, but when I get closer to him I see its a bashed up thing, torn and sun bleached. We greet each other, he lifts his hand to point at a coach on the road. Its full of beautiful dresses, chiffony things, with rouches and frills, rosettes and petticoats. Real girly stuf. The coach does not seem to have anyone about it. There are other things in there and we seem to put some of the smaller items in our bags.

The owners or protectors of the coach have been laying in wait, hiding, and then they pounce on us. We are chased and move up the road, through the bushland to a building. I think its an abandoned barn. We hide and time passes. We have moved on up the road to a small creek. My mind is asking why the trap was set. I can't understand it, but its not important anymore.

The creek place looks like a dip in the road near a park Mum and Dad used to take me to with the family when I was very little. The creek would often flood and we would be told not to go near it. We'd of course go down to have a look before coming back to the park to play cricket on the road strip. It was always a quiet park and we always had it to ourselves.

At the creek, Raggedy Hippy Guide washes and bathes in the water. I do too. We're so filthy and muddy, sweaty and hot, with red earth in all our clothes and in our hair, stuck into our pores, under our nails, in our ears. It takes ages to clean up. We work at our cleansing then we simply make love. This is my Guide for the rest of the journey I am told. He's with me, we're together now. That's it.

The blissful image of us lying naked on the creek bank, a bed of reeds underneath us and our washed clothes hung on plants and trees surrounding us. A fire crackles nearby and the sun is setting making a serene display of blue and orange. I think of how blue his eyes are, how nicely his dark dark hair goes with them, and this curly smile too. He sighs and lays back. And I fall asleep again, waking up in this life here now.

What are we, ... really.

I've come through an amazing few months of intense busyness.

On the face of it I've been plugging away, using my knowledge and insight, my talent and ability to produce 'work' that other people find valuable. This is all good. Below, inside, where the blood flows. synapses snap and the sparkles are hidden, there's been a lot going on.

Seems we're all trying to find out what we are here for, who we are, what we 'need to do', 'how to' get ahead, avoid this or that, get this or that, accomplish, succeed, survive, thrive. And some of us just want a day with a decent pot of tea and some grass to walk on.

Being an Aquarian I do love to source Knowledge and be the source for anyone else.
Being a Rat I love to accumulate and look after my family as I perceive 'family' to be. Rats are pretty sociable.
If I was to psycho analyse (oh heaven forbid) myself, with regard to what I know of these celestial associations, I may intimate that my need for information and the subsequent storing of it, 'hoarding' would be more correct, is directly related to the birth connections of the galaxy I am in.

Thinking more on that I'd expect my Mind to trip into the scientific aspects of 'life on earth' and reason that we are the only known conscious life form around these parts...and what is it about Earth that is special enough to hold us so lovingly in her arms?, so far in space, so cold 'outside' and yet here we are, warm in her embrace. "A powerful Force of Love is keeping us here" said Daniel Vitalis in his latest talk about Water and its significance on this planet, and its molecular make up that is present throughout 'space' as we know it. ("It's Life, Jim..." etc) He gave a good summary of the miracle of our existence, all associated with Water. It made me ponder the effort I put into 'the business', and the connections to quite desperate people that come from those associations.

And so it goes round. The swing from hoping fervently that life is not as futile as I feel it to be, to great euphoria and blissful contentment from just viewing a leaf outside. I think I'm feeling resonances from other people's disappointment, despondency, lack of direction and such. It doesn't feel like it comes from me...I don't 'like' that way of thinking, and it seems like my head is getting invaded with sentences and phrases of utter helplessness. I get angry and I rail at it. That kind of defeatest talk gets my blood going, makes my eyes water and my heart sore too. I have the guiltiest feeling of considerable elistism too. I despise a weakness, a perceived weakness, but, I despise it in myself just as fervently as I do in others. I guess that's where the compassion grows from. One day I hope it takes over.

I wrote in my diary today 'Do you act like the foods you eat' thinking I'll do a blogpost about factory food and processing etc for HTC..., but what I think I meant was, 'Do I resonate what I consume?'
Has this scryingfest of the last few months made me resonate a frequency of doubt and solution searching? is there a layer of fear in this kind of behaviour? do I even want to do it anymore??

Happy 2011,.. whoopee.
Looking forward to Clarity, Integrity, Release and Abundance in Beautiful Forms.
:)
Life's good really. Life's great actually. Beautiful children, connections to great people, loving family, stimulation, ascension :) and all the things that make a life 'go on'.