Saturday, July 20, 2013

Ramadam Mubarak

To our  Islamic family.
At this time of potentiality,
At this moment of grace and power
May love prevail and may all prisoners held in political moves
Force fed by the enemy at the supreme time of fasting –
I am sorry
Please forgive me
I love you.

May the Grace and Power be yours in victory of Spirit imminently, before the close of the sacred time.
May all who have been subject to the vagaries and humane-less situations upheld by the Western governments may you find yourself rulers of your selves once again.

At this critical time – the fullness of my prayers is for peace and respect.

I know someone who was walking along the clay road one night and an owl swooped in front of her not once but three times.  Low down, close enough to reach out and touch.  When she looked up as it flew off the sky had changed. 
In a very subtle way.  And of course when one thing changes everything  else shifts.   
The winter sun would beckon her into its grasps. 
So beautiful to have a strongish winter sun. 
Hour upon hour  the two gazed at each other.   And amidst this adoration, this sphere of light  duplicated within.  .  This ever present light / warmth beating away.  Thought  replaced by fractal imagery and light.
The buttons that kept her engaged in the world had somehow just worn so smooth that nothing could press them, engage her, and bring her back to the world of thinking. 

A monk takes a bet that he can go into Samadhi for 10 years and the bet is that if he can he will get a really good horse.  So off he goes to his sacred space where he becomes nothing and no one. 
For all those full and new moons he just was without.  They would go and check on him through the years.
 On the appointed day a contingent of seniors went off to help him return to ‘life’.  This was done by deliberately chanting specific prayers and such.
He re-turned and one of the first things he asked was for his horse.
Can you imagine 10 years stillness and as soon as you open your eyes you return to the same state of mind as before.  That thought had not disappeared it was just resting.  So one can go into empty space and yet when returning it is the same mind that sees the world in the same way as it did before. 

Iona and I set off on an epic to be present for the birth of a 3rd grandchild.  The only way we could do this was by 24 hour long bus drives each way.  Each way was a journey where I really admired this young woman travelling with me.  Not an easy journey and yet with her company it was special and memorable in its own way.  Molly Grace arrived by grace and with grace.  And although my daughter has other children that call me granny – it was only on my return home that I actually became a grandmother.

When you have a child you immediately become a mother.  Occasionally you get a woman who births who does not become the mother – but it is rare.  You don’t have to become a mother you just are one upon the infants birth.

Two evenings before I departed from the grand children,  I had a dream where I was in the rain forest and a very small being knighted me with the branch of a vine.  I was then told to attend a ceremony homeward bound the night after I arrived home.  There had been no sleep whatsoever on the bus.  I came home, greeted animals and kids after a month’s absence, packed the ceremonial bag  and headed off on another journey.

The ceremony was in a place it had never been before.  Each ceremony I had experienced had been on a farm in the mountains.  Deep into stillness, very close to the stars.  Tonight we had driven into the city.   Cars racing by all the time.  Transience being a dominant quality.  The venue was an antique shop  just off the roadways.   There was a roaring welcoming fire outside and inside there was much stuff.  A crocodile skin stretched out on the stairs,  three huge buck heads on the wall.  Instead of our usual plastic chairs we had choices of all kinds of luxuries.  It was fascinating to see how the choices that were being made were not for the benefit of the group as they usually were but rather the desire for personal comfort.   All this stuff and its accordant history and that that attached to the energy of the objects.  I was really tired and questioned how I would do an all night ceremony.  But I was there and I over rode my basis sense.  Something said just go and sit by the fire, sing the songs out there but don’t sign up for this one.

I came very close to dying several times.    Just moving very slowly in a different direction.  There was no way I could regulate my breathe or hold myself at all.  It became apparent that there was a war happening and it was happening in me.  How could there be war anywhere but inside oneself.   Two forces, duality – warring in a way that would not allow the taking of prisoners.  I realized I was not either side but rather that which was watching/knowing the unfolding.  And because I was not vested in good or bad but rather observation there was no vested interest in any outcome.  For hours this went on – and all the time in the background there was the sweet Daime singing.    And then at a perfect moment in time,  Anna stood in front of me, raised her arms and just called me back.   This tiny woman turned on such a field of light energy that I found myself breathing and able to move again.  Slowly the animating force was resting, out of a fierce battle.   At that moment my ancestors spoke and congratulated me on being a grand mother.
I had become a grand mother.  Before I was just a granny.  Such an honour and priveledge to be an elder at a youngish age.  Most grateful for the initiation and for that which sustained me through it to be free of fear and be open and receptive to the inflow of energy.

So Life carries on in all her depths and heights.  In all her sacred times, the washing of the dishes, the insights, the reading of the news, the talking to friends, the gazing at the sun, the feeding of the family, the growing of the business.  Please have a look and give me some feedback on the project that has taken years to put together.  Well the product has been there but not this medium.

On that note it is the most beautiful winters day,  I think I am going to find a warm sunny spot and take in the rays.   Sending you all much love.   Peace.
And please leave a greeting.

 I don't know who created this image but she is a beautiful muse.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Finding the inner temple.

Stepping into eternity
I reach the inner temple
No-thing exists here
yet everything is present.
In the deepest stillness
I imbibe the silence.

One day I will return
until then.........

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Ah, these times we were warned of.

One of the books I rewarded my kids to read was Bill Bryson's - 'short history of nearly everything'.    The way they were rewarded was not by giving them something but by allowing them to resist a food item for a period of time decided mutually.  So let us say each child was allowed to choose one food that they absolutely refused to eat,  and they were given that freedom.   But it was only one food.  So as a small child Iona hated quite a few things but top of her list were peas and polenta.  So for one year she had polenta off her list.  With the reward system she would be able to knock peas off for 2 months as an example.   So for me it beats the standard western reward system of electronic gadgets.  If I had had the money I might well have followed that system.  This was just the one that unveiled itself to me.
Anyway what struck me most in the entire Bryson book - and there was so much that captivated me, but the most outstanding because it evoked immediate resonance was basically the idea that an ice age could come upon earth so very rapidly.   He noted that all it would take would be for the northern hemisphere to have an ongoing winter past spring and for the southern hemisphere to go into an early winter.   More than a foot of snow in Michigan,  Record snowfall hits north China,  Colorado shatters low temperature record,  and down south we have early winter snowfall in Lesotho.     I need to be beamed up about now because I don't do the cold,  I don't do absence of sun,  and I don't do suffering.

I have been unable to read anything at all on the Boston bombings.  My eyes met an image of a shredded leg and there was no resonance, there was no empathy,  there was just a feeling of you can fool me once but not twice.  And then it became clear to me that maybe the point of all these episodes is that there are so many untied, messy lies that after a while we just stop looking.  What do we do with the litany of falsehoods that we can all see and talk about.  Nothing, they remain on the web pages but they don't translate to hard core consequences.
I saw an image of Bush with his grand daughter and it evoked a feeling of incredulity.  How can someone, known to have caused the death of so many be walking around as a free and privileged man.  I could never apologise to the people of the world enough for this force's deeds and acts of horror.  But here he is posing, and Blair and Cheney, all these mass, mass murderers living lives of peace.  How is this possible?   Where is conseuence.
And I move out of equanimity because I feel so deeply for everyone wronged in this plane of existence.   Christianity came into being by turning mistakes into sins.  Honest mistakes become punishable crimes.  I can be a bus driver and through no intention purely through a disconnect in the matrix have an accident that kills many passengers and I stand trial.  I smoke a herb which balances my body, soul and mind and yet,  I can be be jailed for growing and medicating my self beyond the reaches of big pharma.  I can be forced to vaccinate my child by the state and indeed even forced to watch it die through radiation treatment.   And yet I can be a pedophile and walk free from court because my lawyers claim that due a brain tumour,  I downloaded images of violent child porn.  I can be arrested for saving my child from a feral gang using means at my disposal and yet drone operators who push the button and end the lives of hundreds are paid a salary.
It is such a bad , ridiculous script.  It could win any bad story competition.  No-0ne would buy it but it has become our reality and remains our reality unless we can move back within.

I think the frequencies right now are so jammed up by interference and that has such a profound effect on us.    And because of the craziness of the illusion I have found a way of detaching from it.    Despite the incoming winter,  I find myself unable to sleep indoors yet.   love the way that in that external womb I move into my own space.   There is no distraction,  no electrical vibration,  no sound of others,  no bumps of unconsciousness.   Just myself, my breath and the astral.   I want to hear the wind, I want to hear the rain falling,  I want to hear the random goose flying over in the middle of the night,  I want the honour of an owls visitation at night,  I want to feel the tent buffeting and I want to experience the lightening through the layers.  I want to feel the gratitude for the blankets.  I want to hear the first birds and the way they open the ceremony of the day.  I want to see the first rays of  light.  I want  the first thing that my feet touch in their nakedness is the cold bare earth.  I want to wrap my sarong around me and chatter my way inside to the comfort of hot tea and pets.  I want to light a fire and welcome the family as they meet the day and then sit on the kitchen step and worship the sun.

The bells chime
Stars explode
Brahma breathes
and i lie in my tent and pray:

father/mother god
great spirit
we have come to the days which will be tolerated no more
a new earth is in the birthing process
and in that violence, the earth will shake,
shudder and roar.

help us to  help each other
in remembering the truth of Existence
the truth of Harmony
the truth of Being.

help us feel no fear
but only trust and know joy that the walls of limitation
are crumbling
and a new way of being
awaits us all.

help us hold the light of love
here on the physical plane
and may we  all, in these times,
find our inner peace.

and thanking you mother/father god
for the honour of being present
at this transition, in this moment in time
and may all become aware of the true state of being
available right here and right now

Today is the favoured play date of the Illuminati.
Smudge your homes,  drum your drums, sing your voices,  pray your prayers.

Monday, April 15, 2013


Page after page of gushing tributes to a woman who would have done better in correctional services.  And photos of her grief stricken children.  Mark Thatcher being behind a coup d'etat in Africa.  How quickly the papers forget if you are a well heeled member of society.  You can kill millions and yet still earn a fortune as  a peace envoy.  This is the depth of the insanity.

The bomb went off in Boston, except now they are saying it was not a bomb.  And already, as quickly as Sandy Hook was exposed as a false flag, so is this.    I spent five minutes reading and then just gave up, gave in, surrendered .
I cannot continue casting my eyes in the direction of this very sordid, squalid play that maya has laid out in front of me.
I consciously choose to focus on the light within and avoid this illusory soul trap.
Turning off the machine and heading to the internal mountains.  Adjusting the frequency, up till now one could play along, and tip a toe into the water, but now it is drown time.

These are the crux times.  Now is the time that we have prepared for.  If you don't know how to go in and find the peace , I suggest you make it your absolute priority - for the walls are crumbling, and the earth will shake - and our inner convictions are going to be the only attributes towards sanity and perseverance.

Wishing you all love, strength and TRUTH.
The TRUTH will set us free -  breathe deeply now.
I love you all. 

 "Redemption Song"

Old pirates, yes, they rob I;
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my hand was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look? Ooh!
Some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfil de book.

Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever have:
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs;
Redemption songs.

Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery;
None but ourselves can free our mind.
Wo! Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them-a can-a stop-a the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Yes, some say it's just a part of it:
We've got to fulfill the book.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom? -
'Cause all I ever had:
Redemption songs -
All I ever had:
Redemption songs:
These songs of freedom,
Songs of freedom. 

Bob Marley.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Contriteness arrives.

I find myself seeking the shores of our collected resonance.
When I alight on the pages of my warrior tribe – there is always an immediate feel of re-connection.

I am unable to watch the smoke and mirrors any more.   From rage, to incredulity to I just can't do this anymore.  Firstly it just stopped satisfying my human curiosity and secondly because it was just like stale socks.
So my time spent online is mainly on our website and on a  Brazilian Portuguese language site -   and other times popping in to visit.  Where is Chicory?  I hope Nina is warm?  Where is Zoner – months since he appeared at a gathering.  Bholonath – the wise elder- the shower of the ways,   Troutclans  capturing in words what every kid at school should have to study.  Life in creation.  is Erin dancing now?   And then those who don’t have their own soapbox and yet come as beautiful visitors.   Scrap,  Turey,  Neil.  I know -  but I still look for him. 

Yesterday morning I was watering the front of the garden, when a huge grape truck overtook another seriously huge grape truck, on a narrow road, in the middle of a village and so very nearly swiped me.  And when I went off balance I remember holding the hosepipe directly through the open window and spraying the driver and screaming ‘ you fucking arsehole’ – which reminds me where is Timster? 

Some time ago I wrote about the old pope and obama-and I had the pope and some others peeling themselves off in retardants from the oil spill.  Pontification on my loathing of the catholic church was  tangible to all senses.    Even taste.   We had all seen images of Pope Rat looking like the evil shit he is.  Defending the priests above the children leaves very little credit to your name. He failed the basic test of not being an example to one human being let alone over a billion souls.  Religious leader who does nothing to protect innocence and purity.   Hmmmmm.  But we all knew that.  

The day that he resigned a whole lot of pieces fell into place.
So efficient is the human memory system.
The first memory was of when the financial woes of Spain were really tightening.  Major austerity protests and such.  The pope was due for a visit and the govt surprisingly made a move to cancel the visit stating that the costs of him being there were so great – largely due the security that would be needed.   The people were angry and this was not the time for papal grandeur.   Blow me down  online is an image of him with a purple sky filled with lightening behind him and the most menacing sky you could imagine.  There he was with all the pomp and ceremony.  Supposedly against gay marriage but dressed in the most vile of drag.   The link to a revolutionary who lived for 40 days without food in the desert?  I don’t think so.  But there he is sitting  like a king and a lord when a bolt of wind lifts his …zucchetto ……off his head and blows it away. 

This memory takes me to a you tube link-  whereby the pope was at a gathering …………
Cardinals from everywhere were there.  In front of him was an affable young man, and then he came behind sort of shuffling.   Smiling.  Shaking one hand and then the next, and then the next, and then the next  and about the 14th the cardinal simply averted eye contact.  My thought upon seeing that was ooops that is a  bit of bad protocol.  Then the second cardinal did the same thing.  The fourth went as far as to withdraw his hands onto his chest.    This was extremely significant.   I spent hours musing what it must have been like to be present and to witness that and how quickly did the tongues wag.

And so I typed into the search bar of  current  omniscience  - ‘more about the pope’s rebuttal by cardinals.  There is a name for a sign from God when a pope should no longer be a pope and one of them is if the sacred zuchetto blows off his head.  I did not make this up.  So looking back now for a link to substantiate this, on the  1st google page the first three hits are how he nearly had his zucchetto blown off but then a few down you get the story of not only how it had blown off but how it was never found.

The next memory that emerges is Christmas at the Vatican.  Ho, ho ho.   A crazed woman apparently runs right up to him and knocks him over.    How this happened is a mystery or perhaps an act of God.    With the security he has.  He even has a pope mobile which is incidentally bulletproof, bombproof,  gas and germ proof.   Must be a much loved man.  And the final data bank retrieval is of the pope once more dressed in drag on the balcony of the whatever and he releases a dove of peace and as it flies up a seagull attacks it.  This is photographed by the world media.

Which brings us to the moment that the pope announces his resignation due to age.
Bullshit he was fired.   There was a coup.   A well contained,  no leak coup.  And the day he resigned of course there is that infamous image of the three bolts of lightning to strike the dome of St Peter.

And then a new pope needed to be chosen.
Forums were awash with talk of the next pope being the last pope and being the anti Christ and on an on -  and his name would be Peter.   Speculation was rife.  Odds on Francis were 25 to 1.

I imagine the cardinals at the last session had a weight on them of substance and import.   Since 21/12/2012 it has become apparent everywhere that truth is emerging.    New energies are needed, redemption if called upon – contriteness becomes key.     In my imaginings I felt the presence at that gathering to be divinely guided for the first time in a long time.   I don’t believe you voted this time for allegiance or favour, I believe one had no choice but to vote for Truth and Love – and that was what happened.

So a little after 7pm on the 13 -03 – 2013 Pope Francis was announced.     The black smoke turned white and a seagull sat on the chimney out of which the smoke came.  Perchance even the same seagull that had attacked the dove a short while before.
The new pope :
Chooses the name, not of someone of power or influence but of a  selfless saint whose being was purity of intention .
He refuses to stay in the Vatican palace.
 He speaks against  greed.
Paid his own bills during the enclave.
Cancels his news paper subscription himself. (Okay, I am a detail person).
His first sermon  finds him placing a simple bunches of flowers at Mary’s alter and spending time in silent prayer.    The Embracing  of the Divine Feminine.  
Over Easter he chooses to watch the feet of prisoners at a remand center in Rome.
He also broke with tradition and watched a muslim woman's feet.
And in each image I see absolutely no ego.
This man is able to  be humble.
Tonight I saw an image of him prostate on the floor of the church.
In total humility.
All eyes watching, he reminds us what faith is actually about.

It is so rare for us to see true transformation that I long for this to be an example.
Not about being catholic or not, or Christian or not, or anything – just that Life can
at this moment in time, bring someone forth, through those most murky dark  passages of power and privilege that embodies light.

I wish him a papalcy of transformation and redemption.

And another reason I wrote this blog today, was my dad, sent me an email the other day asking for the address.  And I am so touched that I wanted to welcome him here directly - welcome dad – welcome to these pages – so good to have you here.

Friday, February 8, 2013

An early morning treasure hunt

It is my birthday.
My beautiful daughter Iona wakes up early, makes breakfast for me and presents it so beautifully.
With so much love and enjoyment.
I am then led outside where I have my own treasure hunt.  The kittens follow us.
First she leads me to under the sweet chestnut , then to pigeon hok and landing up at the little plant I love most.  And there under the Santa Maria was a bag and in that bag was a glass picture frame in a heart shaped box.  She has changed the picture in it several times already.  Like a hand version of the digital photo frame.   First she put in a picture of me on Mount Aranachula, a year before her birth.  My hands are in a position of prayer and I was so fully in the vortex the entire time I was there.  So it was interesting that she chose that.  She then put in a picture of Tyler and Pia- well drawing representations of them.  Now there is a tree with the sun rising to the left.  All her drawings – her showcase.

I get a lift into town and I sit in the back.  I like sitting in the back.  I lose the need to sort of parent and co captain.  So I just sat back and really focus on the landscape.  It is the most beautiful summer day.   The vines have created a thick tapestry of green.  And I will drop any pontification at this point because it would detract from the magnificence.  The sky is startling blue with an occasional very white cloud contrasting.  I spot a few leaves becoming autumnal, an ever such slight chill once the sun is gone.  I see so clearly how blessed I am.  I live in the most beautiful landscape imaginable.  Open, surrounded my mountains.  I feel this grace.  I see my friends in the front of the car and again I am aware of the blessings.  The tarred road, the eagles and crows flying overhead, the scent of fecundity everywhere.  The honey bees here still happy as there is no cell tower nearby.  And the more we drive the deeper I sink into that transformative space of gratitude.  

I arrive home unpack produce and head to Lesley.  She is slumped into a funny shape and it is hard to contort her into a normal pattern.   Apparently morphia does that.   I don’t know what to do, I have never been with someone so close to death before.  Not human.  So I did what I always do with dying animals – I sing to them.  But this time was different.  This time I had the Daime songs and what is more with all the ceremonies in December my voice had strengthened and I knew the songs quite well, which makes a difference.  So I sang the English ones, and each one was as if the collective of the community was present in that space.  The voice was the whole.  I sang and I sang and I sang.
There is wilde dagga outside her bedroom window and a birdbath.  So whenever she opens her eyes there is a sunbird or a dove.   And her eyes shine.  She tries to talk and I tell her she really does not need to and she with relief goes back to pure awareness in her beautiful garden.
With the healing sun pouring its light onto the vegetation. 

I take myself off to the well.  
The dark space in the heated village.
 A place guaranteed to allow silence.    There were 5 candles around the well and 3 candles against the wall. 
Donged the gong also 53 times, one for each sun rotation.   It took a long time.  A very long time and yet each vibration was equally profound.   Iona is reading this as I write and she tells me that there are also 53 countries in Africa and that I donged for them to.  Yeah why not.  With a lot of love.


Ricky made me a carrot cake with lemon icing and a friend took me to dinner.  
And in the past where birthdays were somehow a distant memory of the birth process and suddenly realizing in the process remembering that I was already forgetting, I was already been sucked away from the source.  There was always on that astrological date a contraction.  This year a round of gratitude brought on a totally different experience.  Pieter was away, so that old patterning was also deactivated.
I love it when the parasitic mind gets caught before it spins the web of illusion.
And I must also love it when I am spinning within the illusion because I can only get what I ask for.
Because of yes being the only word.   It takes away the potential arising of victim hood and something at the mercy of something outside of oneself.  Making each interaction worthy and of value   something unfolds whenever I go out on my walks now. A phrase arises and the phrase that arises is
 I am that.
Upon seeing the leaf –  I am that.
Upon seeing the snail – I am that.
Upon seeing the honey sucker or septic tank sucker – I am that. 
I am everything I happen upon. 
 And I am the sun in the midday and as it sets.  I am the moon and the starts, the sea and the wind.    Makes the walking even more magical – something I thought was not possible.  For an hour a day.

I come here to write this and I just know all the right buttons for a picture to enter my mind about the world right now.   I see massive snow storms, earthquakes, volcanic rumblings. 
The earth has to shake – she has to shake herself free.
We are all protected.
We are not these bodies.
We are pure light – there is a collective re-remembering of this.
And the fear lessens and we find ourselves liberated from the paradigm of limitation and loss.  We find ourselves spending more time in awe at the infinite possibilities of being.  We start to laugh more, laugh deeper.  And it is not because life got any easier it is just that we start to see that we have been looking in the wrong places for spirit.

On that note I think it is time to step outside into the village and see who I bump into.  See who is painted in the canvas.
Just one long adventure…………..
Ever changing,  devotional………
 So much awakening ......

The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Buddha