a prayer

Use me Father, and when I rail against the effects, use me to greater advantage. I release any vision of how I believe my complete abandonment to Your will should look. I release any  human constructs of success and failure and good and evil and simply trust in You. I release myself from the trappings of this human mind and human world and simply exist in Joy and service. 

Make me a channel of Your Peace.

I ask with a begging and hopeful heart. I capitulate to you today and every day in every age. I Am your creature now, yesterday, and tomorrow. I choose You without compunction or regret, but with a faithfulness that transcends time.

All is in You hands. I place this human Karen at your mercy. I trust you will answer my heart's desire and release me from limiting beliefs and allow me to be of service to the All.

I have asked. I trust. I believe. I am grateful.

I Am a servant of the Light now and always until the end of time.

Amen. And it is so.

“Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof, but only say the word and my servant will be healed”

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

How I wish I were a baby

A baby born alone in the world

No mother

No father

No brother

No sister

How I wish to know the truth of me

Unadorned by others' perceptions of self, self, self

If born into a world empty of selves,

would food even be needed?

If born into a world empty of selves,

would body need clothes?

If born into a world empty of selves,

would words exist?

How I wish I were a baby 

who never taught herself

that she is Sin.

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof; only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

Pixelated patterns absorb 

separation

The orb hints 

there is an invisible sea

The divisive line 

obscures the Oneness

Addicted to 

the false 

personality

Pluck the false from the form

discover 

what covers the truth

underneath the constructed costume

exists

Soul, sameness, connection

Truth

Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed

BE

Did you know that you don't have to be you to Be?

That your personality and history and foibles and bumps are distracting you from your True Essence?

Did you know that if your personality and past and thoughts and wants and tears and fears were plucked out of your being you would still BE?

I bet you think that is boring.

I bet you think you would be a husk.

Sweet relief. 

I am a vessel and my personality is a construction I stuffed inside it, piece by piece, thought by thought, fear by fear.

Did you know that when you understand that any one could replace the one that you are, the one you thought you were loses its power?

It is true what they say.

It all exists inside you.

Be willing to take a vacation from the one that you think you are, and see that you are One.

When you lose You, you win.

So mote it Be, and so it Is.

Dear Puppet

Don't concern yourself with the puppeteer, Dear

Untangle the strings of the puppet and be free

For ultimately you will see Pinocchio's body

Is crafted from the wood of our Savior's tree

Don't concern yourself with their opinions, Dear

Close your eyes and ears to their taunts

For ultimately you will see that your body

Leads to Heaven when you follow its wants.

And when you throw away the script you've been given

The audience may boo and hiss at your show

Remember, Dear, the ones who berate you

Find joy when the puppet's nose grows.

If you remember anything, may it be this, Dear

A path has been hewn for your success

You may follow it or take on the challenge

Create a new path for those who are weary and crave rest.

Thank you dear Jesus for coming

Thank you for sowing the seeds of renewal

Thank you for carving a new way

Your body and blood are humanity's sacred fuel.

Real Choice

We create our own reality.

A truth I’ve been exploring, but now embody, just a bit more. It really is all in our perspective—our interpretation of events. 

I Am powerful. 

I Am powerless.

A choice.

I Am powerful because I dare to dream a reality that differs from the collective. And that reality comes to pass. Everything is true. 

Everything is true. 

We all see differently, but all see. Our perception, our evaluation, our emotions, our imagination, creates the scene.

I choose to believe I Am powerful.

I choose to believe I Am a creator of my experience.

I choose to believe that I Am a healer.

I choose to believe my soul is Huge and Glorious and Beautiful.

I choose to believe my husband and I are perfectly matched and that our marriage was made in heaven.

I choose to believe that all is helping me. 

I Am not alone.

I Am All One.

I meet myself again and again and again in every thought I choose to pursue.

In every thought I choose to discard, I create my path.

New thoughts, please. Preferably from the heart.

I invite in every magical hope and dream.

I invite in every fantastical, loving thought.

I invite in a new way of operating on this earth.

I invite my light body into my human body.

I flit, I float, I fly.

I thrive on earth and explore the rainbow sky.

I choose to choose.

I break free of old ways of being and soar.

Rabbit Hole

I Dive Into The Rabbit Hole

And the voices say it is time

But my attention goes to the apple

and the witch crows that it's mine.

I say I will not eat it

I will not be tricked into sleep

I've fallen for these games before

I am no longer among the sheep.

I hear the distant humming

The Heigh-Ho's are coming nearer

A pick-ax is thrust into my hands

But my attention goes to the mirror.

I marvel at the faces I see

And wonder who's the most fair

A voice chimes in that its time to work

It's time to do my share.

I enter the underground cavern

Emeshed in darkness and stone

I heave my pick-ax up

And carve a path that leads to home.

 

The dwarves are here to ground me

I thank them for their care

They say they will keep me safe

From the evil witch's snare.

 

I pass up gems and diamonds

I trod on ruby saphire and gold

The hewning of the path

Is the treasure for the bold.

 

I will no longer be the simpleton

I am not here to sate and please 

I will not labor in your quarry

I will not ingest poison and disease.

 

The feather falls to the table

The paper crisp and white and clear

It's time the voices say again

To Be every face inside the mirror.

 

Mirror Mirror on the wall

Who's the fairest of them all?

 

Magic Mirror on the wall

Who's the fairest of them all?

 

We are all One

Every murderer

Lives inside our bones

Every child molester

Speaks with our same tones.

Until we see through the smoke screen

Until we understand the game

We are every player in the play

Our characters all the same.

Mercy is the way out of the construct.

Love is the exit from the theatre.

Try to set us all free

Understand you are each face in every mirror.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Animus

My mind's eye shows me the archetype
Stoic, wise, quiet—the cure.
Allowing me to lead the way
Why I fear him, I am not sure.

I embrace him in my dreams,
Entwine our hands and limbs
I explore the landscape of his being
He quietly allows my human whims.

I like him
I ask him questions
I amuse him
He asks me no questions

If I listen, he gives me answers
If I remember to be aware
I see the me
That my animus is
Free

I will embrace this gentle giant
I know not what it is I fear
He isn't mean or cruel or angry
He is a man I am happy to be near.

He shelters me from others
He allows me to lead the way
I know now he is the sun
My animus, my protector, my Day.

I wonder how to show him that I'm ready to be one?
I wonder how I show him the work that I have done?

I invite him to speak up

Give me words and actions and thoughts
Marry the Moon and Sun.
No longer all alone
Time to be All One.

Come to me Apollo.
Reside inside my air.
I pray to be united
An end to the sweet pair.
Come to my Apollo
I beg of you to live
Inside the sea of me
My reluctance please forgive

I know not what I do

To shun a part of me
Makes no sense

I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness

Unite

Come to me
I forgive myself my reluctance

I know not what I do

To shun a part of me
Makes no sense

I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness

Unite

I come to you.

Time

Time! What are you doing in my chest?
Get out! Your ticking has confused me.
Your ticking has silenced my heart!
No longer.
I unwind you.
I remove your numbers from your face.
I take the arrows and use them to pierce the lie you have told humanity.
Puncture.
Dissolve.
A mystery I solve.
I Am a sign of a brand new time.
It doesn’t tick or tock.

Hickory Dickery Dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The Clock struck One
And Down he run
hickory
Dickery
Dock

Hickory
Dickery
Dock
I dismantle the clock
I smash the face with a rock
I bend the hands of time
I demand and live a new rhyme
I uncover the forsaken’s crime
And fashion a new way to be
Every breath a Now moment
We’re free

The numbers evaporate into the ether
The hypnotic tick tock goes away
In the silence I hear an old whisper
Exit and Exist
night fuses with day.
Clasp hands and celebrate the Way
In our dreams, we find what we pray

Is it the calendar that led us astray?
Have we captured ourselves?
Are we our own Stonehenge?
Have we fabricated our own decay
By delineating night from the day?

Time! Time.
You have served a purpose,
But I give you notice
Your lifespan ends right Now
For you have spun a pretty lie
That I with authority disavow
You will not stamp my ticket
Or dictate a thing called age
You will not line my face
Or put to sleep my inner sage.

I Am the rainbow bridge.
I unite the day and night.
I untie the knot of time
I walk the dreamscape without impunity
With every step I foster unity
I may have been born on the shortest day
But it reminds me that the dreams of sleep
Are bigger than the lies of time
Exit and Exist
Allow
Your heart hurts
I will heal it
I burn the sands of time
They become my looking glass
I am free.

The Redeeming Blood of Christ

My feet pound the pavement

I trudge on the lonely road

I remember Jesus’s payment

My heavy heart carries the load

I feel it even now

As I write this

Poor, stressed out organ

How you beat

And I wonder at the people who can’t feel

But are ever ready to lay their sins at Jesus’s feet

Get up! Lazy wretches! Time to walk!

Time to feel! Time to Live!

Heal the Heel!

Do you cling to the myth that Jesus saved you?

You are Him, take a step, become the meal!

The power of the Eucharist has been forgotten

The wine that you drink is your own blood!

I wonder how the ritual became so distorted

Who is benefitting from the story of the flood?

Tap in to the you that still remembers

The Glory of the Only One you could Be

Wake up your sinew and your atoms

Unlock the truth that proclaims YOU the mystery!

Perhaps I Am tired of the apathy

Perhaps I Am confounded by the lack of sight

Perhaps I Am claiming back my power

For every Being who has forgotten they are Light!

Awaken! Hearken! Rememember!

You are a Living Sign!

One Man’s Dying and Rising,

Proves that you too are the Bread and the Wine!

Take back your Power

They can not have it!

I say it with Authority

It is so!

If I’ve met your eye in life or dream

You now remember

And no longer fear any foe.

If God is for you,

Who could be against you?

Revisit the old proverbs with a new eye.

When the last of you wakes up to your Divine Potential,

No longer will the ones who came to wake you have to die.

Will you continue to crucify your saviours?

Is that the role you really want to play?

Hypocrites! Weak and lazy sinners?

Does that really resonate and have the power to sway?

Dare to believe you are powerful.

Exactly who and what you were always meant to be.

The Pollyanna in me remembers a way of Being

And she is here to awaken the truth of the Three.

You are worthy of change, humans!

You are worthy of change!!!

My heart aches, my heart aches, my heart aches.

I smash your chains,

I smash your chains,

I smash your chains.

If I could jump into your cells, I would remake them. 

But the key to your prison

Lies in your heart.

So I sew another punctured spirit

I pull the patches 

And begin back at the start.

And if I wonder what I’m doing here

I will forgive me

I answered a cosmic call

It is time to awaken every spirit

It is time to be who we were before the fall.

Silence

 Silence calls to me

Wasted words do harm

Talking heads upset my heart

I seek a silent charm.

Echoes of remorse live inside me

I seek the root but find no source

Am I the culprit of the feeling?

Have I unknowingly altered course?

Or am I traveling the straight and narrow

On the high road where I wish to be

My heart and throat signal unalignment

I wish to be the best of me

So I will sit in my discomfort

Unsure again of the when or why

If I am not reaching my potential

I patiently await a brand new eye

And with this eye I may see more clearly

Or with this eye new truths may be revealed

Or with this eye love may be my life-blood

Or with this eye even more may be concealed

An ache in the heart is a good thing

It speaks of a truth that once hides

A story was told

A life that was sold

For comfort that tricks and derides

Choose to foster some love there

Declare a bright future day

Being able to rest in emotion

Is proof that you Are the Way

I must remember that I Am not guilty

I must believe that my desire to do no harm is the key

I must remember that intention is everything

I must remember that I am more than just Me

I must remember that the puzzle is in motion

I must trust that the pieces know their place

I must try to live in my heart

And make space for the whole human race

I came to hold God’s people in my heart

I can be the ALL

I can

There is room enough in my heart for those who cannot remember their divinity

I Am a vessel for those lost in the dream

I make more room and allow more in

I accept all hearts who have been tricked by the message of Sin

Pain is not a sin

Disappointment is not a sin

Despair is not a sin

Grief is not a sin

Worry is not a sin

Disbelief is not a sin

We are not failing, my People!

We are not wrong or perverse!

We are simply living in a foggy understanding

Believing our humanity is a curse. 

Weakness is our strength.

Open up—feel.

Release the curse of judgment.

It is time to be your own meal.

You are the bread and the wine

Made of the night and the day

You are the same as the stars

Your bones the roadmap and the Way.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Be still.

Rest.

Dream.

Dream.

Rest.

Wait.

You do not know the date, but I tell you it is near.

You do not know the date, but I say you are a Seer.

The time is here for the harvesting.

The gathering store into barns.

The harvest is plenty.

Laborers are few.

Come with me into the fields.

Your arms may grow weary.

Your shoes will wear thin.

Come with me into the fields.

Authentic Me

Dash away the cobwebs

Clear away debris

Unveil Authentic Karen

Show her face to me

She can only be offended
By mismatched tongue and heart
When that propensity lives within her
True and false must break apart

Burn away the one who thinks
She isn’t enough as she is
Gust away the one
Who still believes in sin

The only flaw in her is the one she can’t embrace
She must look into the mirror and accept each and every face
Sink into me, transform me, help me to remember
I Am the baby born on the 21st day of December
My innocence is my perfection
My soul untarnished and sin free
I release the habits of the world
I come back to the One I was always meant to be

Sing to me Apollo
I sink into your tune
I lay my body on top of yours
And form in my new cocoon

I mourn for those trapped in the smoke
I came down for the ones tricked by the mirrors
I invoke the Blood of the Lamb
I awake the powerful, archaic Seers

I look the slavers in the eye
I do not fear you
Nor do I hate you
You too are not free
I came not only for the chattle
But for the ones who trapped Essence
And lived off energy
You have had your place in this story
And now is your exit, your fall
But your God has still not forsaken you
You are embraced in the perfection of the All

Thought

Drum your dreams

Pulsate your passion

The rhythm of thought retreats and refashions

Look to the wildlife

Soak in their song

Wisdom and majesty resound in the throng

The circus of life 

Has order and rules

The performer forgets that earth is a school

Lay down your head 

Connect with the wise

The makers of costumes hint to the prize

The idea that this can all be a game

Ordered and structured with a plan and an aim

Is hard for the human to believe and to care

The world has taught her that magic is rare

Meet the eyes of the people

Listen with focus

Connection is real, fear Hocus Pocus

Punch the liars with fists strengthened in love

You are the very one you pray to Above

He calls you to remember you are made of His bone

The Creator of All in every vibration and tone

Let go of judgement

Release lack, release fear

Rename the Sinner

See yourself in the Mirror.

The Watcher

The body wastes away and the eyes dim and the Watcher calls for peace.

The Watchers meet each other's eyes.

Words drift away

Inadequate, stupid words 

Suddenly the Watcher knows how much of her life is inadequate and stupid. 

She twines her fingers with the end of the road body

She prays her soul twines with the One who travels on

"Take me with you" she begs. She takes out her thread and needle and stitches herself to his shadow.

A new journey sounds so sweet to her.

"Take me with you!" she demands. 

Binding herself as best she can to the promise of reunion with the One who made her

She bows her head

"Soon you will have more room; with what will you fill it?" her voice asks. She swats the question away.

We are all Watchers.

Witnesses of fabulous folly, fatigued by the inadequate and stupid fabric of our lives

She plunges her needle into the Father's Shadow

"I will not be left behind," she shouts. "I will not live like this another day."

Her Voice persists. "With what will you fill the upcoming space?"

"I will twine my body with my husbands," she answers, unthinkingly.

"Good choice."

That gets her attention. 

"It is?" 

She wonders. She rarely gives the right answer the first time. Or the second. Or the third.

"Yes. It is. That is your destiny."

Soak me up, Moonbeam. Caress me. I sink into your arms and rest rest rest. 

Splay me out, Sun. Flay the layers of inadequate and stupid and rid me of my excess skin. 

A sputtering cough catches her attention. The Watcher engaged--enraged to be steeped in stupid.

She answers with a tone. Discovers the power of the moan. The healing of the groan.

Sun and Moon meet for a dance. 

"My romance is my destiny?" she questions. It seems too easy. "It can't be that easy."

Absorb me Apollo. 

I sink into you easily and happily and completely. 

"Are you sure I am not escaping?" she asks. 

"Oh human. Why are you so convinced it is supposed to be hard?"

As she Watches the Father sleep away from her, she ponders the question. 

"I just like the idea of sinking into him so much, that I feel as if it can't possibly be the answer."

She looks at the wasted frame, a snapshot of her life newly recorded.

She gets it. The lesson. All that matters is the perfection of connection.

For in this moment she knows she will want her own Watchers one day, one day, one day 

An Unconventional Obituary

Paul David Bednarowski, husband of Lois Bednarowski and father of Katy (Tony) Madson, Sara Sullivan, Karen (Ronnie) Mullins, and Paul (Shannon) Bednarowski, brother of Keith (Mary) Bednarowski and Tom (Mary)Bednarowski, grandfather to Anthony Madson (30), Elizabeth Madson (22), Emily Madson (21) Emma Bednarowski (17), George Mullins (17), Lucy Mullins (15), Ellie Bednarowski (14), Mary Lois Sullivan (14), and Mae Mullins (12) and great friend to many, passed away on October 19th at the age of 78 in his Fairhope home. Paul was preceded in death by his beloved parents Paul and Irene Bednarowski.

It's not hard to pinpoint the special qualities Paul brought to the lives of those who knew and loved him. All describe him as a dependable source of steady and powerful love. His children remember calling out "Daddy's home!" and racing to the front door, where he set down his briefcase and opened his arms to receive big hugs at the 6 o'clock family reunion. After a quick change of clothes (that smelled of what the young kids later learned was unique to the paper mill), family dinner was had, board games played, wrestling engaged in, and tissues collected after a family viewing of The Waltons or Little House on the Prairie. Later, as the kids got older, Algebra tutoring replaced the board games (there were still tears!) and family dinners were worked around soccer, basketball, football and volleyball practices and games, which were sometimes coached and always attended by this quiet, thoughtful, well-loved man.

As a husband, (what a husband!) the 56 years are seen by Lois as the greatest gift of her life. Supported, loved, and appreciated by Paul who was always willing to say "yes" to her wants and whims, whether that meant putting on a rhinestone belt buckle and square dancing on Friday nights, traveling to foreign lands, donning a tuxedo and dancing past his 9 o'clock bedtime, Lois can't imagine a life without her best friend and perfect partner. It will be hard and awful and lonely, but she strives to rest in appreciation and gratitude for the many years of love, and pats herself on the back for choosing such a wonderful father for her children and grandfather for their children. Well-done Lois! 

His brothers recall a cribbage-loving Paul who won and lost many a quarter over the span of at least 70 of his 78 years of life. Shelled peanuts (they all loved peanuts!) and beverages (they all loved wine and beer!) and math (why did they all love math?!) equaled long nights of laughter and camaraderie. His brothers were his friends. His brothers already miss him. 

And so do his friend-friends. Too numerous to name, but they are many: his old school-friends from Menasha, WI; his college friends from the University of Wisconsin; his Scott paper friends (did we mention his 33 years of working for Scott Paper Company/KC?); his investment club friends; his supper club friends; his volunteer friends from Thomas Hospital; his Quail Creek friends, his St. Vincent DePaul friends, his church friends; the Packer Nation! we could go on and on. We lost a good man, didn't we? It's ok. We will see him again.

And we know that is true because above all, Paul was a man of faith. His mother prayed the rosary at his bedside as he spent two long years bedridden from rheumatic fever. His brother his faithful favorite playmate, his parents supporting him in prayer, Paul learned patience and gratitude (and math!) at home in the loving arms of his family. And as he lived by faith, so he died, with his loving family gathered around him praying the rosary. Can you imagine that? Isn't it wonderful? As Mary was assumed into heaven, Paul took his last breath, and it was sad, but also beautiful.

Is there more to say? Of course there is, but we don't need to go on because you knew him. You will recount your own stories of Paul as you sit with your friends and families at dinner, take out your cribbage boards at home, and watch the Packers roll into the Super Bowl year after year (it could happen!) His family thanks you for being a rich part of his life. We are all better for knowing him, and that is enough. 

Please join us as we celebrate his life at his home parish St. Lawrence Catholic Church in Fairhope, AL, on Saturday October 29, 2022. Visitation will be held in the St. Lawrence Room, with mass at 11 o'clock, and a luncheon reception in the St. Lawrence room at 12 o'clock. All are welcome.

Daddy

 His little children giggle as he Fe Fi Fo Fum's up the stairs

His giant's laugh deep and delicious as we await our goodnight prayers

Tucking us in tight, little mummies in our beds

Wrapping us in love with sweet kisses on our heads

Oh Daddy. How impeccably you have lived your life. Your shoulders broad and strong supporting your children and your wife. 

We are so grateful.

So grateful, Daddy

And proud. Proud of this man who put us on those broad shoulders so we could see the parade of life. Keeping us safe and rooted as he showed us the possibilities that lay before us. Offering us the world, while anchoring us to safety. Sweet safety. 

What a gift Daddy.

Thank you.

It is easy to be brave when you have a father who loves you.

It is easy to be generous when you have a father who loves you.

It is easy to be bold when you have a father who loves you.

Our gentle giant of a man has been our safe haven. His sweetness tempered by sharp thought and intentional integrity. Steady. He has been the foundation for the statues his children chisel, as his father before him, and those who follow down the line of ancestral love. We all become giants, one by one by one, until we are All One.

You have crafted a man who is easy to love

Your choices, your thoughts aligned with above

Your faith, your actions, the man that you are

Have placed in the sky a new guiding star

Your children and grandchildren have a beacon to guide 

The path hewn by you is straight and it's wide

We have room to traverse the road as we choose

Safe in the life you have paved, choice by choice, groove by groove

We follow the road, free to skip, free to run

Thank you Daddy. You don't even know what you've done.

But I see the power of the path you have hewn

I see the power of your life's steady tune

I know the choices you could have made

I celebrate the life and the price that you've paid

So Daddy, know now that your love is our fuel

Rest in the knowledge there is no more to do

You've won the race that man races each day

You've crafted a life leading your children to the Way.

I love you dad. We all do-so so so much. Thank you for being you. Thank you for millions of hugs and supportive words, and coaching moments, and education and freedom and safety and sound advice and compassionate listening. For everything. You are a powerful being of Light and we are grateful. Well-done, Daddy!! Well-done. 

Do not give in to feet on the ground thinking

Do not give in to "feet on the ground thinking"

Bastian did not keep his feet on the ground

 

What if life is a dream and death wakes you up?

Dreams. Beliefs. Openness. Balance.

I am here to bridge the night and day. The dream-world is real. More real than the awake- on- earth world. What is the goal that I cannot remember?

Look to the clues.

Books. Movies.

Neverending Story. Cloud Atlas. The Starless Sea. Enders Game. Slumdog Millionaire. Labyrinth. A Journey of Souls. Inception.

Allowing coincidences to be roadmaps. A story within a story within a story. Reincarnation. "You have no power over me." Energy as food. Choices. Trickery. Journeys. 

Tell me a story.

Once there was a little girl who saw orbs float out of her closet. She watched them warily and they lulled her to sleep. She felt safe under the covers and in her bed.

One day, upset with life, she went to the creek and sat on a large rock. She felt sorry for herself. She was alone and misunderstood, which probably was not true-true, but her belief made it so. She was startled out of her ruminating when a muskrat (was it a muskrat?) zoomed past her in a path just under the embankment. She rushed home to safety. She did not like that she had not known about the animal. That, combined with the snake she had found under a rock one day, kept her out of the creek. She was done exploring. Scared of the unknown.

She did not see the orbs again until she was a woman in her forties (was she really a woman?)

They came slowly, so not to startle her. They were staticky sparks. Then orbs. Then orbs with faces. She welcomed them back--not scared now. 

"Is she ready to go back to the creek?" they wonder. 

She contemplates. Does she want to lift up rocks and see snakes? Does she want to see unknown creatures that she does not suspect?

What a question!

She wants to say YES, but she is cautioned to acquiesce so readily. But she does want to say yes and she knows that counts for something.

She lifts up rocks in her dreams. She encounters the unknown creatures in her dreams. She explores in her dreams and does not fear. 

Why is life so scary when she knows in her heart that dreams are more perilous? 

"Just do it!" she decides. "Live." And so she does. She lifts up rocks and allows the snake to bite her hand. "Oh," she says, "your poison cannot kill me. I wonder what else I have been taught to fear that is not true."

She meets a porcupine that shoots its quills at her. She is taken to a healer and all is well. "That was not so bad," she thinks. 

She sees a man about to strike her with his mighty fist. He is angry and violent and manly. Two protectors fly in and fight in her stead. "I am sorry I was late," says one man, and she assures him he was right on time.

She wanders where she does not know the way. She enters doors and exits doors. She climbs rickety staircases and she exits down down down into dark and dank basements. 

She lives to dream another dream. "Can I bring this courage to the waking world?" she wonders. 

She wants to want to. And that makes all the difference.

Now tell me a truth.

7

7 means completeness and perfection. 

The number 7 represents the bridge between the human world and the heavens. It is the symbol of faith, spiritual awareness, and awakening.

Now! I mean it! I really, really mean it!

The Devil Lived Backwards

Why does the idea of hell persist?

Jesus met with the devil in the Bible, and was tested three times. What is the truth of this? Who is this devil exactly? If evil is living backwards, must one just rearrange their thoughts and actions to change the alchemy of their being. Is every one who lives backwards a devil, and simply one choice away from heaven?

It appears my Grandmother Lewis got married when she was pregnant with my aunt. It's impossible to know now (or maybe not with science being what it is) but I can't help but wonder if my grandma's husband, my grandfather, is the father of my Auntie Anne. And I wonder all of this only because I have the sense my grandma Lewis hasn't moved on to the light. I feel like she may cling to me, and wonder if she latches onto my energy in a way to avoid her divinity.

I know this is a strange and fanciful thought.

My sister Sara believes that Grandma moved on to heaven, stating that Grandma was religious and made pilgrimages to Jerusalem and other holy sites. I have a ring from one of these trips--I will find it and wear it.

So so so much of life is unknown. Discernment is needed. Looking inward, nebulous. I find I must return to the energetic awakening I had seven years ago--my prostate form on the floor, buzzing and expansive and the knowing, the knowing! that I Am Huge, and beautiful, and the universe. I must remember crying out over and over "I didn't know" and "I will hold God's people in my heart." I know if this moment was commonplace it would lose power, so I resign myself to remember the memory of it when I wonder if I Am fanciful and dramatic. When looking at the lives of saints and mystics, it seems to be a pattern; a few wondrous moments of revelation sparsely scattered throughout a life where the human endeavors to embody the wisdom and joy. The pain is in the loss of momentary certainty that fleetingly visits the dreamer.

It appears that some poets revisit the experience in nature and become expert at finding echoes of divinity in the daily experience. My guides seem to wish this for me. My moments come in my dreams, when I look into a dream beings eyes and See, truly See, that they are real and sentient. Impossible to prove, which seems to speak to another lesson my guides seem to keep in my awareness--pride and humility. Any awareness is not earned, not achieved. It may be marveled at, but not exploited. Sigh. I wonder how Pride and Humility have played out in my past lives.

Past lives. Progress made.

So often I dream of schools and plays and amusement parks. When will I get it through my thick skull that life on Earth is about experience? Why does life on Earth not inspire Passion in Me?

Dreams

Visions

Orbs

Insights

Wisdom

Past lives

Energy Healing

These are what inspire passion. Where does that all fit in to my story? How can these interests ignite Love in me? The idea that there is more pecks at me. How can I open up that truth to heal the people? I court inspiration. I court grace.

The devil doesn't have to be defeated, the devil needs to be redirected. The letters need to rearranged--the components are the same, it is the composition that is faulty. Sweet alchemy. Let me Love you, Devil. Let me look into your eyes and remind you what you are made of. We share the same ingredients--we are made of the same stuff. Put down your mantel; abandon this track. Do not simply follow in the footsteps of past choices. I see you. You do not fool me, Friend. I will not leave you orphaned. You too will be raised up on the last day. And though genius lies in eternal patience. I offer you my hand now. I Am not greater than love. Love is not greater than me. People tell me of evil and darkness and I do not deny it exists, I simply desire to rearrange the letters of the words.

The people that walk in darkness have seen a great light. For those who dwell in dark and sin, a light has shown. For a child is born this day. Rejoice. Rejoice. Daughters of Zion awake. The glory of God is born.

I Am that child. You are that child. We All are that child.

So is it any wonder that I find apathy in the human ideas of accomplishment? I cling to Ronnie, who echoes love so perfectly--reflects my love. Why would I want to leave his arms? Do I dare to believe that I Am changing the world as I dream at night? That I Am enough. If there was a book to write, I would write it. A cause to champion,I would rally. A new idea to germinate and foster, I would plant it. I know I have the desire to be what I have committed to be, yet I have amnesia.

As in the Matrix, once the pill has been swallowed, there is no way to un-know. Once a certain milestone has been reached, the way behind the dreamer is no longer an option. All the knowing and security of the past is ripped away, and the baby dreamer finds herself swimming in a sea of yesterday's ideas, struggling for buoyancy and squinting into the path ahead, searching for companions who can help support the new Wisdoms, the new Possibilities. How many babies will it take, I wonder?

If I am still stuck and powerless in limiting beliefs, I ask for guidance now. I know I do not know much. I try to believe that I am not alone and that unseen beings are supporting me in my growth and journey. I call upon beings of light and love to remind me of my path, my Godly intention, and my power to love.

All is well. All is well. All is always well.

So mote it be and so it is.