Archives for category: Nature

7 angels

7 angels

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shifting perspective

mind's eye differences

differences

sitting in the sun

sitting in the sun

ink hand background-small

ink hand

Day 3 of the 5-Day Art Challenge….

Ink sketches. I doodled several in 2001, while sitting in a hot vendor’s booth in an art show in North Georgia. Architecture meets the landscape, sliding along trickles of fountain-pen ink.

I bet you can guess which one was done years later while sitting in some rather boring CEU lectures about building materials… fountain pen on watercolor paper.

The others just came along on a whim…

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A potted rose geranium lives on my back stoop. Surprisingly.

I didn’t expect it to make it through the winter; in fact, I didn’t expect it to make it through last summer. It’s tall and lanky, gangling about the corner of the brick wall. The leaves waited until August to begin growing less than 4 inches apart. I let it shiver in drought throughout the winter.

But yesterday afternoon, I noticed that each branch wears a tiara of soft green buds… and a few blossoms are beginning to peek through their capes of green.

I smile, for nature’s resilience and the ever-flowing cycle of the seasons.


jellyfish

Choosing Pain and Mortality

15 March 2014

Lately I’ve been feeling a quandary about experiencing pain. Is it a choice we make?

I’m aging, I can accept that: it’s pretty undeniable when your body clearly changes, showing signs of wear and increase. I can also accept that aging might be alright… Except in my case, it seems to hurt.

No need for detail on that here, because the point of this post is to explore a decision that seems to be facing me.

Over the past few years, I’ve visited a few conventional Western medical doctors out of curiosity, to learn what they can tell me about any causes of the pain from their point of view. Not much news, aside from of course hearing once again that I need to lose weight, get more exercise, and eat foods that doctors believe help lower cholesterol. Seems simple enough.

The dilemma is that when I do these things, I feel worse and it hurts. A lot.

Again, I’ll spare you the detail. The choice looms between following conventional recommendations that might prolong my life, or continuing with approaches arising from intuition and my Guides.

If I follow the first, I can pat myself on the back for “doing everything I can” in the eyes of others, and learn to enjoy hardly being able to move when I wake each morning, continuing to creak throughout the day. Day to day life becomes what… a quality of [large] enduring?

If I follow the intuition and inner guidance, I go back to eating the cholesterol-laden red meat and rich cheese (along with all the wonderfully “healthy” things I eat), and drinking alcohol. I know, sounds crazy, but after a couple years of experimentation, these keep the pain at bay sufficiently for me to manage the exercise part without much complaint.

I feel the spectre of “family responsibility” hovering over me like a magpie waiting to peck at my head if I don’t do what others expect.

My gut tells me that’s no reason to hobble along a path that’s just, well, longer. Not necessarily better. Hmm.

On the other hand, if I continue to follow my gut, I might not be here in ten years. Or sooner (which, come to think of it, is of course true for all of us anyway…).

I have no fear of death. I love my family. So… and but… why choose pain? Why choose pain (or any debilitating discomfort, including emotional) for a still uncertain outcome or lifespan?

Why choose any route that’s torturous just because that’s what others do, or it’s accepted?

I’m sure many folks have found themselves in this spot and worked through it, whether for them it was about life-partner and gender choices or religion or politics or career… But I admit I never thought of it as being willing to choose a possibly more rapidly approaching death, over pain.

Something happened this week that drove this home for me and brought these words to the surface. I received, online, some lab results from some bloodwork, and for 36 hours I thought I had Chronic Kidney Disease and perhaps 10 years to live. Fortunately, it turned out that I read one of the numbers wrong (folks with numerical dyslexia really shouldn’t read lab results alone…). But what floored me was that I was okay with thinking “Wow, this really might end before I’m in my 90’s. What a relief.”

Oops.

No, I’m not suicidal, and my depression is soundly in remission. I don’t hate life. I’m okay. Again, I love my family.

The results of my meditation experiences have brought me to this place of irony: Once we understand that this one lifetime is but a moment in an eternity of experience, and our families in this life are our friends and lovers and enemies in other lives, and that we will certainly see them again soon, death takes on a whole new significance. It becomes not the end. This is what I have seen, what I know and feel in my bones, more deeply than anything else I know.

What I have seen directly contradicts what’s generally accepted by the culture I live in. And it offers me more freedom to choose how to follow the path I’m on. I know this path will continue into my next life, just as it currently continues into my other lives. And I will never be lost. I think that’s totally cool.

So the choice seems simple, actually.

I reflect that in the past ten years I’ve made similar choices about other decisions, but they were all somehow different, perhaps leading up to this one. And this one probably leads to another.

So here we go, you and I, in this dream together. I’m going to take the path that resonates with my deepest being, and enjoy my time here to the fullest. I’m happy you’ve joined me for the moment, and I look forward to continuing this manifestation as long as we can.

Who knows what delights and lessons our next encounter may bring.


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such a puzzle, to find the sun…


Normally, I would put a post like this on one of my more esoteric blogs.

But there’s a strong current flowing lately: “integration”. So I’m rolling the strangeness out into the “public face”. If you enjoy it, please check out my other sites. There’s more where this came from… ;)

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Message from Oracle about Atlantis, sharing a Meditation experience at the Beach as well as some background on Vesú’s location, and some Ghost Radar.
 

I’m going to execute some more integration with this post. Trying to pull together some of the items on the list I shared earlier in the week. I’ll put the Ghost Radar at the end, and before that I’ll share the actual message from Oracle. I’ll start, however, with a description of part of my day yesterday, including some info to help explain the significance of Vesú. I can tell this one is going to get quite lengthy, so if you wish to skip ahead to the message from Oracle, just scroll down to the bold title and quotes…

As part of my reaching out to meet people here in Jacksonville and my putting more effort into developing my writing skills, I’ve joined a writing circle here which is a satellite of Women Writing for (a) Change. We’re doing a read-around this coming week, so I’ve chosen to use my Meditation experience as a piece to develop for that meeting. I’ll share that first.

Mickler’s Beach, 22 February 2014

I arrived at Mickler’s and joined the gathering of unknown friends and families, out for a sunny if chilly and windy lounge, celebrating a moment of warmth and high tide.

I had already spent the week feeling particularly bloated and middle-aged (and not currently perceiving these as virtues in any sense), so it seemed a little odd to me that there were about a dozen clusters of equally pale and bloated middle-aged folks on the sand, relaxing back into metal and canvas chairs. I paused, a bit taken aback. There was something odd about how they all looked so similar – and so much like how I felt. And they were all looking at me, from behind their sunshades. They seemed to be together, only pretending to be there as separate groups. (Note to self – I really shouldn’t read an entire Sci-Fi thriller in a single evening, not good for the mind .) After a moment I realized they were actually turned that way so they were facing the sun. Relief.

Regaining my stride I made my way to the water’s edge, noticing there were virtually no shells. Unusual? Maybe not for high tide… But I had come there to collect shells… The wind and choppy water had scalloped the sand and shell layers into low hills, so I walked along them rhythmically, making my way to my favorite spot. Shells started to appear, and I noticed today’s theme offered a few thin, well-worn oyster sheets with holes. I bet Babjij will [nodded] enjoy stringing these into window ornaments…

I found my seat. I had already filled my small plastic tub about a third full. I sat down heavily (like bloated middle-aged women often do) [difference] and took a look around. The water [agree] chopped and swirled under the beating of a mild nor’easter, the surf clashing amongst itself, churning up sand and murkiness. But it was beautiful. The vista to the East was particularly interesting and mysterious, quite layered.

Swathes of gray to dull-orange sand and shells stacked their way to the water’s edge, and there the foam and surf plopped and flapped like watery green pancakes with whipped cream. The sand bar lurked beneath the high tide, casting a golden underlayer to the near surf, and then beyond the water sank into the more dull emerald green of greater depths. Towards the horizon, the clouds hung rather low, not quite touching the chopped white peaks. They kept their distance, but once they found their level, they too joined in with the streaking and smearing of themselves across the sky. Finally, approaching the heavens, they began to fluff and cavort and drift, and the brilliant blue peeking through reminded me that I could find Emptiness in the chaos.

I scooped up some sand and some more shell-coulis into the little container, and as it filled I began to shake and tap it, encouraging it all to settle and make room for more companions. Gazing out over the waves as I tapped, I found myself holding the box with focused intention, and mantras began to play about my lips.

I sat feeling plugged in to a deep powerful circuit of energy flowing from the water and sky into my hands, circulating through my body and out my lips as the gifts from the planet collected their charge and resonated together. I found myself quite far away, hovering out over the surface of the water, just beyond where I could no longer see, and I wanted to stay there. The sound of the waves blended with the wind into white noise that dissolved, and my mind felt drawn out, out, towards the horizon.

I thought of Babjij, and remembered shared moments and connections. How had I managed to forget? It seems I’m good at forgetting when I’d do better to remember, and good at remembering when I’d do better to forget. Now was the moment, however, to just sit. I invited the sea to bless the gifts I planned to send to my dear friend who felt so far away.

I took a deep breath and tried to focus… on what? I had been feeling a bit inadequate in my mindfulness, and quite vulnerable as a result. How far could I stray from a certain path and still know that I was on course? Watching the waves soothed my mind, and I relished the sensation of the breeze rushing through my clothes and around my skin; I could feel strands of chill and warmth, mingled together like strands of cable, cooling and heating me at the same time. I wondered if I was having a hot flash, and if not, how would a hot flash feel, sitting here in the brilliant sun and brisk wind?

Still, I continued the mantras, bringing my attention back to the sounds, the sequence, the significance.

The quiet tug continued. I thought of how the waters flowed together, and my soft gaze caught glints of white somewhere between the water’s surface and the clouds. A ship? A bird? Let it go. Let it go. It didn’t matter. The sand and the shells and the sound mattered. Let the glimmers pass…

Then a dark crescent burst from the chop and splashed. My eyes, distracted, followed the subsiding foam. A dolphin. And again. I tried to keep my eyes unfocused, concentrating on chanting under my breath, and still holding my awareness of movement on the water. It felt like a small pod, maybe just one or two… I expected them to move on down the shoreline, and I returned to my mantras.

But they came back. Or stayed. In any case, it was clear to me that it was no coincidence for them to appear, in light of what I was doing. They frolicked before my half-seeing eyes, and felt a twinge of jealousy.

You can swim and swim, anywhere you want to go, just about… Look, your food is right there, surrounding you! Hello! Hello! You can go up, or down, round and round… And I sit here on the beach watching. I have to buy my food and prepare it. I have to find shelter and spend my days working so that I can maintain that situation. Am I missing something? I’m grateful… But your life seems so simple… I yearn…

I felt their friendliness, their timeliness, and their message. They had come to say hello to Babjij’s sand and shells. And there was something else they wanted me to know, but all I could sense was a light-hearted whisper. More to come…

Eventually the dolphins moved on, and I, like the creaking middle-aged woman that I seem destined to portray, lifted my non-bouyant body and made my way back home.

Shortly after I got home, as soon as I sat down to write, my phone rang and it was a call from a dear friend I had been wishing to talk to that day. I vaguely mentioned my trip to the beach, but the conversation veered more towards how this friend was sensing that something was not quite right with me.

We talked about work, where I’m living now, how I’m trying to balance between what I need to do to keep myself here, and the real reason I’m here. That reason had been escaping me, yet tickling my consciousness as if a long curly hair had drifted onto my bare back. I was frustrated.

The friend asked if I wanted to hear what they might be picking up on about the situation. Of course! Please help!

Are you sure?

Absolutely.

So I listened, nodded, agreed. Yep, spot on.

But what do I do about it? That’s the puzzle.

Of course recognizing the “problem” is the first step… So we accomplished that. Now: What to do when I feel completely flummoxed about how to respond and shift the situation? Generally, I need someone else to chime in with fresh insight.

My friend mentioned that, as part of remembering a role as a scientist in Atlantis, they had identified a spot in the Atlantic Ocean that was also remembered as the location of an Atlantean Temple Complex. We began to speculate about how far that might be from where I live in Ponte Vedra Beach. “Sure,” I said, “I’d love for you to send me a Google Earth link that shows me that location! Maybe it’s nearby!”

We ended the call, and I decided to go ahead and open up Google Earth myself, to pushpin my location so we could compare. I dropped the pin and labeled it “Leslee’s Vortex”, at a place where I always feel drawn to sit – the same place I had sat that afternoon. I emailed a screenshot off to my friend. Pretty soon I got another call.

“Leslee, I got your email, and drew a line from “Leslee’s Vortex” to the Temple Complex. You’re not going to believe this, but it’s due east of your spot.

I talked them through making a screenshot to send to me, and we got that shared, still on the call together.

My spot, give or take a little, is at 30°09’ 54.42”N, 81°21’23.08”W. The Temple Complex location is at 30°09’57.89”N, 79°53’49.52”W. In Google Earth, it’s just west of a crescent shape you can see south of the Stetson Mesa. It’s 87.35 miles from shore.

Pretty exciting stuff! Still… what’s the point? Yes, I know I’m supposed to be here. It’s been referred to as my “Next Assignment”. But why?

All of a sudden, I heard my friend draw a deep breath, almost a gasp, and I recognized that sound. Oracle had arrived.

ORACLE MESSAGE

(This message came from Oracle through a friend yesterday, while we were talking about why I’m in Jacksonville, and what’s happening with Cities of Light… My friend prefers to remain anonymous for now, but has clear memories of having been a scientist in Atlantis…)

“Leslee, your soul has the codes. Your soul has the codes.

“Your friend’s job is planetary balancing; yours is to provide a conduit for energy that is needed to activate locations. Your background in architecture is not accidental. You may not function in this role as an actual architect, because there are others perhaps more skilled at accomplishing that in this instance.

“At this time, what is needed is for you to take your pendulum – the one that is a toroid, looks like a tornado, a vortex pulling downwards – and program the water. Ask to be connected to that energy. Send that energy into the water. Because you know, when you program one molecule of water, it all becomes programmed.

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(From Leslee: I went and got it while my friend was talking. It swung wildly in a “yes”: strong agreement with what I was hearing. Meanwhile, as I listened I was reminded of how I had been captivated the previous evening, watching my tea leaves as I swirled my tall cylindrical glass teapot. The herbs and leaves had swirled upwards from the bottom, rather than the water forming a vortex on the surface. I had gotten an image of how a maelstrom generates from the bottom of the ocean, not the surface…)

“That’s your assignment. That’s why you’re here. You can fulfill your assignment by programming the water. Program the entire ocean. Use your right hand. First program the pendulum – the metal and the minerals. Program them with love and gratitude. Intentfully send that energy east, into the Atlantic.

“Ask to receive what you need to receive from the Temple Complex, and transfer it through the sand and the water. Call upon the devas of the sand, the beach, and the water, and the dolphins.

“Send your Heart Codes to the Temple Complex.”

Oracle slipped from prominence, my friend relaxed, and we continued to discuss what had come through. It was suggested that I go into the water to do the programming, and I immediately exclaimed, “Damn! Do you know how cold that water is right now?!?!?”, but my friend persisted.

I guess I’ll be getting some new galoshes soon. It’s raining right now, even thundering and lightning. Energy has shifted. Program one drop of water…

So I intend to do that tonight.

 

POSTCRIPT: Oops! It totally forot to add the part about Vesu! It feels like this post is long enough, so I will explain more soon…

Ghost Radar today so far (23 February 2014): [modern air-force process brain flight mountain slight simple abort growth moving Nevada  ]

Ghost Radar yesterday (22 February, 2014), while all of the above was going on: [white-dragons Michigan focus Sally sum word independent pile presence lips Akhenaten concise Ukraine game temperature line stitch onto judge wherever accomplish say aboard / use natural linked layers nitrogen planet sexual-energy radiant wild blind themselves sleep particularly organization drew been scale nodded difference agree equator behind ]


low tide micklers

 

build me a bridge

so I may return

after I venture where the gentle waves curl

and when I am bones

beneath the sea

may my prow crest like mountains on shores

 

(Late afternoon 19 January 2014, low tide at Mickler’s Beach, Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida. From a distance the shards of a wrecked boat hull in a tide pool {home to several clumps of starfish} looked like a miniature mountain range floating on the water…)


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We’ve had some strong weather coming in the past few days, so last night I paid a visit to the beach at dusk. The full-ish moon is hiding – do you see it?

The orange barricade netting on the right is to protect a sea turtle nest… This photo was taken about an hour into high tide, so I’d say the chances that the nest is still there this morning are, well… Maybe those little guys are ready to hatch.

The post on the far right is for a beach volleyball net.