THE TRUE LOVER

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OUT THERE IN THE WORLD COGNIZED BY MIND
 
THE LOVER IS UNSEEN AND RARELY SUSPECTED,
 
THE CARESSES ASSIGNED TO A SOURCE OTHER,
 
THE GIFTS TAKEN TO BE THEIR OWN PROGENY. 

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PEACE … Nelladell

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Favorite Experience Recorded in My Journal

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spidermums

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I loved riding along the California coast

… and enjoying the plants, so different from those of the desert and of the Midwest.

Five years before the events of this story Hubby had decided we would move back to the Midwest, and separation from folks who had given me support had been costly to my spiritual health.  Hubby felt that if I spent a couple of weeks back at the retreat on the coast I would be renewed.

He didn’t understand how I had changed in those five years.  He didn’t know that I no longer belonged in any sacred place because I would sully the vibrations.  He didn’t know, and he insisted that I go, and now it was the day of the flight.

It was a holy season, and I had enjoyed taking my time choosing flowers for it.  They were pale yellow daisies and soft white spider mums.  They were beautiful in my meditation room, arranged pure and simply with no greenery; and this morning, when I went in, my heart leaped seeing them.  My little mind knew that they must be a sign that I belonged here–not on the coast.

When Hubby led me outside I turned and saw what seemed to be a miracle nestled to the right of the door.  A couple of years before I had planted a two-foot circle of yellow daffodils there, and this day they were at the peak of their bloom but, this year, there were also wild blue and white jump-ups which had migrated over and crowded in among them and were also blooming zealously.   It was from heaven; certainly another sign that this was where I belonged, and I was miserable because of the desecration I was being forced to commit.

But  here I was, taking my beloved slow route up the coast.  The ocean and the exotic plants were there – right there — but the exultation that I thought I would never lose at seeing them was gone.

Finally I was standing at the gate, staring– and crying.  When I finally pushed it open I saw, nestled to the right of the door, a circle, about two feet across, of yellow daffodils with blue and white jump-ups crowded among them.  My mind, not quite overwhelmed, said, “How odd that such plants would be in this place. What a very strange coincidence.”

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JOHNNYJUMPUP

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I checked in, set my bag in front of my room and hurried to the darkened little chapel where I saw, spotlighted on the altar, an arrangement of pale yellow daisies and soft white spider mums, a pure and simple arrangement with no greenery; and my heart leaped at seeing them.

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Post script:  I have been unable to find a pic of jump-ups like these wild Ozark ones.  I was gifted the ones in our yard by a lady who was trying to stay the extinction of several wild flowers.  Those and their carbon copies in California are the only ones I’ve seen.

PEACE … Nelladell

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THE BOUQUET OF FLOWERS

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SONY DSC

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I’m telling you about the affair.

My single meeting with the man was clean and bright……and burned me down.
This car I was driving was one of a line of “fifty-dollar jobbies,” vehicles so decrepit that I know the long solo trip was necessary, though the reason for undertaking the adventure is now hidden behind the events of the affair.

I was still a couple of hours from home, and had decided to take a dirt road for a few miles. I don’t know what reason my mind gave for this decision. It wasn’t a shortcut and it didn’t dodge any traffic. I certainly knew no one there.  There is no logical explanation for me being on that barely-traveled lane with a car that suddenly wouldn’t run and with darkness coming on too fast.

I vaguely wondered what experience was awaiting me while I stood gazing at the dimming empty land which, in that moment, seemed vast.

Actually, the wait wasn’t too long, and the man who stopped happened to have a well-stocked toolbox in the trunk of his car. He took a while to get my car running, then advised me to follow him to his home, where he had the proper whatever-was-needed (memory fails on this, and it’s not in my notations) to make him feel that I would have a safer trip home. I did follow him to his home, which was near a log cabin which, in turn, was near the railroad tracks.

After I drank his iced tea while he again worked under the hood he disappeared into his house, and when he returned he gave me a folded paper with his phone number so I could call him if I had trouble on the rest of my trip.

Then he handed me a bouquet of flowers.
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The first thing I did when I drove into our yard was to reach into my bag for the telephone number.  It wasn’t there, and a long search didn’t turn it up.  It didn’t seem to be anywhere.
Hubby, then a mechanic, was favorably impressed when he saw the new whatever-it-was under the hood.When I drove back to thank the strange man for his selfless act I couldn’t find the log cabin and I couldn’t find anyone who knew of a log cabin.
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But — I had the flowers.
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PEACE : Nelladell

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See if you’re interested in this —

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stones

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I just read something about the idea of learning

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… directly from nature’s “mindless” entities and it reminded me of a long-ago day with Jen.
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She couldn’t, it seemed, let an hour go by without asking something of an inanimate object.
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On that day she picked up a stone the size of the end of my little finger and said aloud, face shining, “Beloved little rock, what is your history?”
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Then she broke out laughing.
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When I asked her what was so funny she replied that it let her know in no uncertain terms that it was not a rock, but a piece of an ancient pot!
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You can read more about Jen and her activities here if you wish:
https://otherearsothertongues.wordpress.com/category/jen/

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Peace …  NELLADELL

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THEORY OF COLOR

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The afternoon before Easter Sunday

… we went to a favorite stream-side site high in Arizona’s Pinal Mountains to spend the night.

The purpose was to reserve the site for a large family gathering the next day.

My contribution was the eggs, a dozen of each of six colors, dyed using a standard egg coloring kit. I’d had help from the children in coloring the eggs and they had mixed the eggs so that the purple, for instance, had not all been taken from the same box.

Since the rest of the family was to arrive early in the morning with the children, I hid the eggs before going to sleep.

In the night we heard little animals in the bushes and supposed they were skunks, kin to the ones we had seen earlier, but didn’t investigate.  When morning came and the eggs hunted, we found none disturbed, except the purple ones, which were all broken, and the red/pink ones, of which there was nothing left but shells.  Or perhaps it was the other way round.  But it was the purple and pink/red which were out of business.

Perhaps it was a difference in chemical composition which made the colors more or less compatible with the vibrations of the skunks (if skunks it was), but it’s something else that made us go “Hmmm” at a time when we knew nothing at all about the subject of color theory.

Peace

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NEST OF ”FAIRIES”

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The ‘room’ about which I spoke as housing The Gypsy’s altar at Spirit Mesa was actually a tee pee.

It was 22 feet across, if I recall correctly.  (the little patio in THE BAD picture (https://otherearsothertongues.wordpress.com/category/spirit-mesa-photos/ ) was built where the tee pee had stood, and the white surrounding circle fit well within the space formerly covered by the rug in the tee pee.  The altar was a flat stone set up just inside the east-facing entrance.  There was a ‘berm’ in front of the tee pee entrance.  She had covered that berm with the most energetic stones of the area.  I included this picture link so you can see the little ‘berm.’

This is as The Gypsy told me:

A family visited.  Their small child leaped from the car yelling excitedly about fairies and ran to the tee pee yelling that the fairies went in there.  When inside, the child, whether through observation or intuition or deduction, said, they went out through the top, pointing to the smoke hole.

An aside: I remember reading that fairies were said sometimes to have nests in the space where the poles come together at the top of tee pees.

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Peace

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THE SINGING TREE

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The Gypsy introduced me

to a true singing tree.

We were walking at the base of Spirit Mesa among the junipers which are scattered over a wide area of this high desert where the Chaco Canyon people lived long ago.  She stopped and asked if I heard it — if I heard the tree singing.  I must have stood open-mouthed, because I did hear it — a breathy hum.  The tree stands almost touching its twin, but some walking around told me that the song definitely comes from this tree, not the other.
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I think I was too shocked at what I was hearing to do anything but look a question at her, and she said that she had a strong psychic impression that a long-ago shaman had spent a lot of time sitting in this spot — that he liked watching the sunset from there.  The idea is that that is the reason the tree sings.
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I’ve already written of the exact spot which I felt was the home of a line of Spirit Mesa shamans, and here are some unexplained photos I took there: https://otherearsothertongues.wordpress.com/category/spirit-mesa-photos/
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The old singing juniper is very close by.
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I kept a lawn chair under that tree, and there I listened to its song and watched sunsets and celebrated quiet joy.
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(More about The Gypsy can be found here:  https://otherearsothertongues.wordpress.com/category/the-gypsy/ )

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