217 God Grant Me the Patience

The Serenity Prayer. Grandma F loved it, and then Mom also quoted it. For years, we had a small plaque on the wall that had some strange looking, cartoon birds, declaring the words.

As I write, I really can’t remember what stories have already been told.  Sometimes I sneak over to the blog site, and do a word search, but that is often inaccurate.  

The stories we tell are retold by the mind.  We live inside a set of stories.  Some have some physical history.  Some are fully imaginary.  And most are created in combination, some of what the majority of people would call “fact”, with added juicy content created by emotional reaction and fake memory.

This year, “fake news” was a new term, strangely used in irony.  The mind adores fake news.  It creates our lives around the theme. 

In my reality, I woke several times last night.  I sat with the Creator’s change in seasons, the moment where we move toward the light.  I prayed for the planet, felt love streaming around and through me, drifted between the realms.  It was two.  I went back to sleep.

Dreams drifted in and out.  There was an old white house that supposedly belonged to my Grandpa Plumb.  The wall was open, apparently without reason.  There was an enormous staircase next to the space, against the missing wall, as if someone removed the other half of a duplex. 

Someone was trying to get the renter to comment on whether to repaint the exterior, whether to sell it, or continue to rent.  She showed no interest whatsoever in making any comment.

Another dream had a home that reminded me of the Granite Falls house.  There was this teaching element to the dream.  The theme was that “men need a space”, like a man cave perhaps.  I was working with Courtney’s husband, a distant relative if he happened to still be related.  At the end of the dream, I was exasperated by two kids that lived there, that they had made a deal to help out, had enjoyed a day off beforehand, and were now refusing to follow through on what would take five minutes to do.  They were not James’ kids, but representations of humanity.

Why do I remember these strange specifics?  What do they mean about the processes of my subconscious?  Is it any different than what I perceive as fact?

Photo of a lake with sun shining on the forest brown orange color with text of Serenity Prayer in white
The Serenity Prayer for Patience

When I finished the night, my first thoughts of the morning came.  The Serenity Prayer.  Grandma F loved it, and then Mom also quoted it.  For years, we had a small plaque on the wall that had some strange looking, cartoon birds, declaring the words.  Maybe my mind is using the prayer to remind me of their love!

The Serenity Prayer is an interpretation.  It is not in the Bible.  The probable basis, Philippians 4:6-7 (International Standard) reads: 

Never worry about anything. Instead, in every situation let your petitions be made known to God through prayers and requests, with thanksgiving.  Then God’s peace, which goes far beyond anything we can imagine, will guard your hearts and minds in union with the Messiah Jesus.

Gratitude.  Praying for the good of all.  Thanksgiving.  My hope is that we all meet this inner serenity, that everyone can access the love that I felt from my mother and grandmother, and that we all find union with the highest form of love.

177 Sleep Poetry

milky way galaxy during nighttime
Photo by Hristo Fidanov on Pexels.com

When the night is there, but you will not sleep,
And there is no point of counting sheep, 
The brain spins tales, with no woolen ends,
And the thoughts are strange with twists and bends.

The heart delights in a journey told,
Of memories and stories of old,
Of the clarity of a challenged mind,
The Duality intertwined.

Fight not, the nights of little rest,
Use them for the Eternal’s best
Interest and your own as well,
Because each of us has tales to tell.

Pick up the project, journal, or art,
Let the progress come from your heart,
You are chosen to do take this flight,
No better time than the dark of night.

28. Insane Cone Posse

Cone.  Like pine cone, fir cone, evergreen tree cone.  I was out again today, tackling the “raking of the cones”.  My dad’s property is 3/4 of an acre, which isn’t very large when you compare it to the Granite Falls house.  BUT there are trees that feel that it is their exclusive right and occupation to solidly cover the ground, unfortunately lawn, with cones.

This may seem inconsequential, but the abundance fills wheel barrows, barrows with an s.  Not once a year, or twice a year, but constantly.

Fir cones
Collection of fir cones  Photographer: Tatniz.

My theory is that the conifers in last year’s California fires sent some sort of tree mail to the Washington trees. “Prepare to die!”  In Scouts, we learned that forest fires pop the cones and send out seeds to create the new generation.

Many things in my days are pointing to ancestry and lineage.  Yesterday in Reiki, the vision appeared of an enormous tree on the hill.  We visited it in the current time line, and then saw the generations return to the same place, honoring the tree (the ancestors).  

We are one.  We are joined in the continuum, never to die, always to be a part of the Eternal.  The cones remind us of our evolving grace.  What a beautiful awareness.  

22. Let Them Truckers Roll

It’s a ’70 reference.  You probably were ‘yet to be born’.

I can remember a snippet of today’s dream.  Never before have I been two people and a watcher.  The watcher is the one that doesn’t have a body, that is just awareness.  It’s like being engrossed in the big screen, observing the events.  There is someone observing.  But we don’t put much thought into that form of self.  It’s always there.  Or, maybe, better said, it is always what we truly are.

Back in the dream, I was talking to someone, explaining something.  I appeared human, female, probably the me I know right now.

Michele-Plumb-Stowell-Let Them Trucks RollAnd I was looking at another form of me, a guy sitting in the driver’s seat of a still yet rumbling semi truck. I could see his/my left ear, and the buzz cut hair of the back left of his head, the semi’s rear view mirror, all far up from my vantage point on the ground.

The man had ribbon loops that mimicked children’s tree ornaments hung over that ear.  They dangled paper cut outs, art work, “earrings” his grandchildren hung, my grandchildren hung.

We’ve all laughed about dream interpretation.  A book on my shelf is notorious for presenting opposing views.  “X means that you should embrace change and move forward.  Alternatively, it may target you to be cautious and contemplate rather than take action at this time.”  I totally made that up, but it is accurate beyond laughter.

I looked up semi trucks on the internet.  That is even dicier than the book, because random folks write all kinds of nonsense and call it prophetic.  This is the one I choose for today, that feels accurate enough:  “You have size, largeness, and power and at the same time you will be burdened by your responsibility.”  (dream-meaning.net) No brainer.

And the earrings?  Because they are earrings, they speak of wealth, prosperity, and ancestry.  I love this, because the crafty grandkids spin this with longevity, adding the progeny element.  

Look to your layers.  Remember your watcher.  Focus on God in three persons.  It will all make sense some day.