 |
| Photo by Ben Wicks on Unsplash |
One of the first unusually vivid dreams I can recall was a dream I had in high school.
In this odd, but memorable dream, a single bright section of an orange transformed into a tiny infant right before my eyes. At the mall a few days later, I saw an album in a record store window. On its cover was a dreamy sort of image of a baby. The name of the album was Tangerine Dream.
I made the connection and bought it on the spot.
Later, listening to my new album through my headphones, I had a vision. In it, a group of men in dark robes were trudging up a hill. Behind them, a grove of trees had been cut down, and on each stump a man had been beheaded.
I had an interest in King Arthur from an early which may be why I recognized the men as Druids. Given that interest, I'm sure a lot of people would just chalk a vision like that up to imagination, but because I have aphantasia visions are few and far between for me (and those I do have are not deliberately self-generated). So it was unusual for me to see any kind imagery in any state.
What really got my attention however was the emotion I felt.
The scene was grisly, but I wasn't the least bit horrified. Instead, as the hauntingly beautiful music built to its crescendo, I felt a bittersweet sense of loss. I understood those retreating figures. I knew their way of life was ending and that loss moved me.
It wasn't until many years later, that my interest in Celtic spirituality would move me to become a member of the OBOD (Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids).
Did my dream and the resulting vision predict this interest? Or is there something genetic that travels downstream through time that speaks to us? Or is it only coincidence?
That is the mystery.
____________You can visit the OBOD website at Druidry.org
 |
| A beautiful picture taking on a truly perfect day. Even if I didn't see it then. Next time I will. |
Today is Sunday, January 1st, 2017.
Today is number one of seven.
Today is number one of twelve.
Today is number one of thirty-one.
Today is the first day of 2017 and 2017 is 2 + 0 + 1 + 7 = 10. And numerologically 10 is 1 + 0 = 1. Making today number one of the next ten years.
And because I was born in 1957, today is the first day of the first year in the sixth decade of my life.
So, because I wanted to be ready, it made sense to me to wake up today, at 4 AM, and make coffee and open up my journal. Not the new journal, I'd bought in honor of the new year, mind you. But the old the journal I'd begun in Fall of 2016 because in that journal there were 24 empty pages remaining.
So, because I wanted to be ready, it made sense to me to wake up today, at 4 AM, and make coffee and open up my journal. Not the new journal, I'd bought in honor of the new year, mind you. But the old the journal I'd begun in Fall of 2016 because in that journal there were 24 empty pages remaining.
The new journal was right there next to my chair and the pull of starting fresh was strong. My first inclination was to close the old journal and turn my back on the old year and the season past and make a new start. But those 24 empty pages called to me. And I realized that it wasn't about wasting paper. It was about a space that had to be acknowledged.
That space between the old and the new is always the same for me and, whenever I encounter it, I'm reminded of a trapeze artist, letting go of the old bar and hurtling through thin air in the direction of the new one. I think of how everyone always has to let go of whatever it is we've been holding onto and trust - even though there is no hard guarantee that the next thing will be there when we need it.
Leading up to that space I worry about what will happen and think long and hard about how it can all go wrong. But once I'm in it, the uncertainty and fear fade. All at once I remember how vitally important that space is. In and of itself.
It is not the space of letting go, although in those 24 no longer empty journal pages I did just that. And it isn't the space of moving forward, either, even though towards the end of those 24 pages I did that too.
Instead, it is a space that is moving and still and empty and full all at the same time. It is a space of courage and of faith. A space of transition. A space where anything is possible and everything is in is motion.
So I encourage everyone to take stock of what was, by most accounts, a very trying year. I encourage everyone to sort it out and let it go and make that jump. I encourage everyone to embrace the space between what was and what will be. Because that space is freedom.
This year I realized that I have been lying about my favorite season for years. The blazing glory of Northeast Pennsylvania fall foliage aside, my favorite season is not autumn. It is winter.
Hope is a commitment we make to ourselves. There is something about the darkness this season brings, something about the way it almost overpowers the light, that helps us see just how much that light means. I believe that this is why we light yule logs and Menorahs and Christmas lights.
The contrast between indoor coziness and exterior misery has something to do with this, I'm sure. But the real reason I love winter is because of the absolute clarity that this time of year brings. It is a clarity that doesn't come from books or journaling or other people. It is a clarity that comes straight from the source.
And here is an example. Standing on the edge of my snow covered lawn, I hear a crow call from the woods and a moment later another responds and even before the words come, I know something I didn't know before.
A few years ago I came in from another cold lawn and wrote that it takes determination to make a go of winter in Northeast PA. But the truth is that it takes more than determination - it takes hope. And just now, out in the wet snow, I realized something I should have figured out a long time ago.
Hope is a commitment we make to ourselves. There is something about the darkness this season brings, something about the way it almost overpowers the light, that helps us see just how much that light means. I believe that this is why we light yule logs and Menorahs and Christmas lights.
Because in the midst of darkness, we need to remember that light is hope and that hope is a promise we must keep.
This year, a relationship I used to believe in is in trouble and people I care about are trying to make their way through a very difficult holiday. Words are my gift but in this words have failed me.
So I light a candle and I remind myself that even if no one else can see it right now that's okay because there are times when they did and there will be times when they will again.
And I know that, eventually, we will all get a chance to keep that flame going and that this year it is my turn to hold the light.
For me, one synchronicity is never enough. So I always set an intention to receive three.
The last intention I set was about my book. Not the "Be Your Own Card Reader" ebook that pretty much wrote itself but the big book - the full-length nonfiction book on energetic beings and the messages they share.
Writing this book has been challenging for me. While, the the information is there, putting it into context has been surprisingly hard.
There are a lot of reasons why this is the case. One has to do with the way I receive my information. For me, communication comes spontaneously most of the time whether it comes in dreams, waking visions or inner voice communications. As a general rule, I do not do Q & A style channeling sessions.
On one hand, I like receiving these out of nowhere communications. Allowing the information to drop in spontaneously means that there is very little of me in it and to me that is validating. But operating in the manner means that I don't get an answer to every question. And there has been a question I needed answered.
It was where is this information coming from? And who are my guides exactly?
It was where is this information coming from? And who are my guides exactly?
They are real to me because the experience they share is evidential. By this I mean that it checks out. And the info they have given me on themselves checks out too. I have learned things from them about history and geography and mythology that I just plain didn't know before they told me.
I needed to know. So I asked. And three synchronicities followed.
The first synchronicity came at the last place I would have expected - the October MUFON UFO conference in Philadelphia PA. In a way it was odd that I even ended up at the convention. I don't remember how I heard about it. But somehow I knew that I had to go.
Sitting in the audience, I was surprised to hear that while many of the speakers did think of extraterrestrials in the traditional 3D way, others saw them as energetic beings trying to help the planet earth.
This struck a chord because, just a few weeks earlier I'd received a specific and completely out of the blue message about extraterrestrial beings. In that message, I was told that as highly advanced beings ETs have the ability to appear to us as energy beings and that they have been doing this since the very beginning.
On the long ride home, it occurred to me that, my message and the convention information I'd heard had created my first synchronicity.
This struck a chord because, just a few weeks earlier I'd received a specific and completely out of the blue message about extraterrestrial beings. In that message, I was told that as highly advanced beings ETs have the ability to appear to us as energy beings and that they have been doing this since the very beginning.
On the long ride home, it occurred to me that, my message and the convention information I'd heard had created my first synchronicity.
My next experience involved a very trustworthy friend who shared her own personal extraterrestrial experience, explaining that it was something she never talks about but decided to share with me after reading something I'd posted. Her experience was seemingly 3D but she experienced energetic communication as well.
I was touched by her courage and impressed by her absolute credibility. It occurred to me that of all the accounts I have heard this was completely believable to me because I knew and trusted the person involved. This, I realized, was synchronicity number two.
I was touched by her courage and impressed by her absolute credibility. It occurred to me that of all the accounts I have heard this was completely believable to me because I knew and trusted the person involved. This, I realized, was synchronicity number two.
The third synchronicity happened when my friend Tara dropped by unexpectedly to exchange tarot readings.
One of the cards that came up when she read for me was the Hermit card. As Tara looked at the card, she had a vision of a red Merkaba star and clearly saw red lines transporting the energy from one point to the next. A few moments, later she pulled a card from the Doreen Virtue Ascended Master deck that had a very similar image.
One of the cards that came up when she read for me was the Hermit card. As Tara looked at the card, she had a vision of a red Merkaba star and clearly saw red lines transporting the energy from one point to the next. A few moments, later she pulled a card from the Doreen Virtue Ascended Master deck that had a very similar image.
A Merkaba, as you may know, is considered to be an energetic vehicle capable of transporting someone to the higher dimensions by some - or an alien space craft by others. That both these concepts are represented by the Merkaba mirrored the information I'd already received.
Oddly, this is where all of this began for eight years ago. First I met my guides in the dream I call the Spirit Dream. Then I began to have experiences I could not explain. When I began to read New Age and channeled material those experiences intensified.
For me, however, there was too much about the New Age approach that felt a lot like imagination. I didn't want imagination. I wanted the truth and for me the truth has high standards. Now I can see that I wasn't wrong to have standards. I was just wrong to feel like I couldn't deal with so-called New Age concepts in my own way.
So here I am. Having come full circle, right back to the place that I started from in 2008, thinking about Pleiadians and Sirians and ancient aliens and angelic beings and energetic communication and DNA activation and all of that crazy stuff. Except that it isn't crazy. It's real.
And I guess it's taken that long for me to get to a place where I have the courage to believe, and write about, something that a lot of people don't understand or might even make fun of. Good for me.
* To read more about the Hermit please see the following post on my favorite tarot card: Happy World Tarot Day: Please Pick a Card!
Oddly, this is where all of this began for eight years ago. First I met my guides in the dream I call the Spirit Dream. Then I began to have experiences I could not explain. When I began to read New Age and channeled material those experiences intensified.
For me, however, there was too much about the New Age approach that felt a lot like imagination. I didn't want imagination. I wanted the truth and for me the truth has high standards. Now I can see that I wasn't wrong to have standards. I was just wrong to feel like I couldn't deal with so-called New Age concepts in my own way.
So here I am. Having come full circle, right back to the place that I started from in 2008, thinking about Pleiadians and Sirians and ancient aliens and angelic beings and energetic communication and DNA activation and all of that crazy stuff. Except that it isn't crazy. It's real.
And I guess it's taken that long for me to get to a place where I have the courage to believe, and write about, something that a lot of people don't understand or might even make fun of. Good for me.
* To read more about the Hermit please see the following post on my favorite tarot card: Happy World Tarot Day: Please Pick a Card!
I was asleep in my room when I heard (through sleep) a loud knocking or pounding. I was counting the knocks evidently half asleep and not really aware I was counting because I heard myself say, that's 13. And as soon as I said it, my entire body was flooded with fear.
It was the fear which woke me up completely. I'm not sure if I opened my eyes or if I had had them open all along in the dark but I see that the room has somehow filled up with light. Seeing the light reassures me. The fear evaporates.
The illumination in the room is white-out bright and the light itself is dense and diffuse at the same time like a spotlight in the dark - much brighter of course but of that same hazy quality. The light is so white and so bright that it obscures the contents of the room though not quite completely. Underneath the brilliance, I make out the form of my bedroom - the blaze of the mirror, the shape of the furniture, walls, windows, drapes.
The illumination in the room is white-out bright and the light itself is dense and diffuse at the same time like a spotlight in the dark - much brighter of course but of that same hazy quality. The light is so white and so bright that it obscures the contents of the room though not quite completely. Underneath the brilliance, I make out the form of my bedroom - the blaze of the mirror, the shape of the furniture, walls, windows, drapes.
I watch the light for some time, feeling no need to analyze or understand it. Finally I drift off to sleep.
Rebecca was the last "witch" to be hung as a result of the infamous trials in Salem Village (now Danvers, Massachusetts). She was 71 years old, in ill-health and so hard of hearing that she could not respond correctly to the questions she was asked.
The evidence against her came in the form of "spectral evidence" or psychic "apparitions" perceivable only to her accusers. Such evidence was allowable under English law in the trial of accused witches only. Other special legal conditions granted in English witch trials included the testimony of children, statements of sworn enemies, and evidence presented by those who owed money to the accused.
After readings my great aunt's testimony and Shirley Jackson's wonderful book, The Witchcraft of Salem Village, I feel certain that Rebecca did not have malicious bone in her body and was absolutely innocent of the "spectral torture" of the young girls who testified against her. Instead, she was a gentle warm-hearted woman, loved by her family and community, less vulnerable to slander than many of the accused but a victim nonetheless.
She was not, of course, the only only one to suffer.
She was not, of course, the only only one to suffer.
Of the 200+ people (most of whom were women) accused at Salem, twenty were put to death. Nineteen of these twenty, including Rebecca and her sister Sarah, maintained their innocence right up to the time that they were hung. A single victim, Giles Corey, refused to speak throughout his trial (because a plea would lead to forfeiture his land) and was, for that crime, sentenced to be crushed to death by heavy stones.
Rebecca was remembered for her courage on the gallows. I like to think that, as a Christian, she held a strong conviction that she was going to a better place - and that this was a place her accusers were unlikely to see. Even so, the months of hardship and dread in a primitive prison and the ultimate terror of Gallows Hill must have been almost impossible to bear.
Seeing Rebecca's home and the beautiful farm she and her family carved from the wilderness was a moving experience. Just that morning we had been in Salem proper walking with the crowds, smiling at the costumes, and enjoying the many witch-themed shops. The night before, I had stood with an large, boisterous group of people, in the center of town, taking photos of the Samantha Stevens statue - enjoying the high spirits and outright celebration of all things witchy.
Walking the same path Rebecca walked so long ago, however, made me see all of that in a different, and unexpected, light.
The most conservative of estimates tell us that an estimated 100,000 people, and most likely more, were put to death as a result of the witch hunts that spread across Europe and the colonies in an approximate three hundred year period (1450 to 1750). While some of these people did practice some version of the Craft, all were innocent, in my opinion, of the curses and murders of which they were accused.
 |
| Bewitched |
 |
| The Nurse Homestead |
 |
| Grounds |
 |
| Folding Rope Bed - Note 14 Inch Floor Board from Virgin Forest |
 |
| Candle Making. Something still done in our family :) |
 |
| Kitchen Garden |
 |
| Rebecca's Memorial |
 |
| Rebecca's Likely Headstone |
 |
| Outside Author and Witch Christian Day's Salem Shop |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Translate
Social Icons