One week’s passing of angelic wings — aloof of the physical presence of mourners view — inner workings for deeper peace.
On the third day — the death of a faded memory — disorientated with a deeper understanding of old ways — reintegration of new amidst the chaotic kyphosis of a primordial new beginning.
Mother having traveled — returning home — Father finding his footing without a crutch of saintly proportion. Closure of this mid-day chapter book — leaving the author empty-handed — no pen in hand.
Let me sit here a little longer — thoughts of the creator’s silent admiration — for all things creepy crawly to whistling high flyers. Witnessing the birth of another wren — chirping for mother and father — fill our bellies with all you know.
Smokey Joe was whispering — the past to ether’s burial grounds — breathing in new life — new chapters awaiting Great Mysteries universal consciousness attuning kiss.
Visitors song — high-pitch screeching subsonic tune — an ancient story of the Creator burning feather’s from a bird wishing to watch over the night. Right on time — my little friend — caught in the mystery of your presence circling over me.
Smokey Joe and author rejoicing in open — fields of unknown made known — death to rebirth — ending to new beginnings — returning home. Message heard — witnessed in the flutter of nightly watchers — seen with deeper sight — into the unknown.
Listening to the countless people in our circles, how their lives are upside-down. Passing of a loved one, loss of a career, lack of means meeting ends, world chaos collectively pressure cooking until a great pop.
On the verge of an unknown, riddled by fear, encouraging a great purge of letting go, bat pays a visit. Bat reminding us to let go of that which holds us back, stealthy flying into the inner shadows of the night.
Trust in the messengers song, once cursed — now gifted with a higher call to service — self-gratification knowing that we are the watchers over the night.
~Ani Po
Thank you Marilyn Glover, and the whole Third-Eye-Gypsy family, for holding this sacred space.
Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.
Billy lived in a small farmhouse in a remote area, with a farmhouse and a barn to store hay for the animals. On this particular day, the shadows were more apparent, and the air was dense with heaviness.
Remaining true to self, bright as the morning sun, Billy needed to blend in. Not diminishing his light but disguising himself so as not to bring too much discomfort to the others.
He has a lifetime of experience blending in, as he had to learn to fit in with his immediate family, caught in the traps and temptations of the day.
One day in particular, Billy entered the farmhouse, and Mama was sleeping on the couch with a cat atop her blanket. Billy could also communicate with animals.
“You need to blend in and not raise too much confusion. We will sit with Mama and comfort her until she has gained her strength.”
I can shift into a dog, but will you join me?
Cat was happy to play along and shifted into a dog with Billy.
Such an odd dog you chose. The first of its kind that I am aware of. Your snout is extra long, and your hair length is exquisite.
With a commotion outside, Billy returned to human form. Heading outside to investigate, firstly checking in on the barn. Everything was as the day before, but a stall was emptied of its furry ball of surprise.
Exiting the barn, Billy is greeted by two bear cubs.
“Follow us.”
Leading Billy to a scene where Papa and the local sheriff are discussing a recent poacher attacking a brown bear. Sheriff accused Papa of capturing and housing the brown bear in the barn.
“There you are. Come here, Billy. The sheriff would like to ask you some questions.”
“Have you seen any brown bears recently?”
No.
“Is your family keeping a brown bear captive?”
No.
Billy did not divulge that Uncle Tommy, also with the gift of shapeshifting, recently fell ill. At the time of illness, he had shifted into a bear. When he became sick, he was stuck in bear form.
“Thank you, Billy, for your time. And thank you, Bill, for keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.”
Sheriff left. Billy and Papa went into the pen area, where Uncle Tommy was laying, half-human, half-bear.
The family did not know what was happening to Uncle Tommy, so they kept him in the barn. Seeing a half-human-half-animal was daunting to them, and they wanted to keep him safe until they could get the answers they needed.
Billy knew what was wrong with him. One, because he had the gift. Also, he was able to communicate with Tommy telepathically.
“I’m sick, Billy. I am stuck in this form. I need to get Osho root to heal the bear and return to my normal ability.”
He needs Osho root Papa.
“How do you know this, Billy?”
I can communicate with him, and we both have the same gift.
“What gift?”
Shapeshifting. We can turn into any animal or anything for that matter.
That day, Billy came out to Papa.
“Well, go on then. Find this Osho root so we can sort this out. We will talk about these gifts later.”
My mother is currently transitioning from the physical world. During a recent visit with my son, we sat with her. We chatted with Mom and Dad about what the future will bring.
When it was time to go, my son sat before her, giving her permission to go. “I release you from any ties to this place.”
His conversation was enough to stir my heart into song.
Dad, you better sit down. I want to sing for you and Nana.
“What? What do you mean?”
Today’s events have sparked memories and future holdings, collectively bringing them to son. My heart needs to sing at this time.
Dad sat down; my son knew what was needed.
We held hands, and I began to sing.
My heart spoke its true nature while visions of my childhood through the present day flashed before my inner sight.
With tears in everyone’s eyes, Mom asked what the song meant.
It was a song of gratitude for a lifetime of memories shared. Gratitude for the developed gifts I received and for all those times I had to keep quiet. The song then transitioned into All will be ok, you are safe.
That day, I came out to my father. Not knowing how he would react to ancient dialect, but I was pleasantly surprised (not really…as the vibration goes where it needs to go) at my father’s reception to heart song.
We held one another, and he thanked me for being right where I needed to be and always listening to those voices I could not hear.
This dream was a reply to this recent event. As dreams often do, characters are exchanged, and scenes overlap for further interpretation.
, and the whole Third-Eye-Gypsy family, for holding this sacred space.
Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder, and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and, more importantly, the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.
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