Oh wounded bird. Will you ever fly again, and will it be a spectacular flight of overcoming or will it be a flight home?
Oh wounded bird you are still so young. So full of life that has been misplaced. Why are your wings held to your sides?
Who holds them there?
What unseen thing forces you to deviate from your nature?
To spend your life sitting on that branch without even a nest only to watch the world around you move on,
never stopping yet …..you can not do what you long for. To fly.
Oh wounded bird, your soul longs to feel the warmth of the sun, the fresh air against your feathers,
and your wings stretched wide in a flight of freedom.
Oh little bird, tuck yourself back against the tree, hide yourself in the leaves,
and cover yourself for the night. Tomorrow is another day.
Perhaps tomorrow you will take off and never look back.
It’s now 6 am. That means that the west coast is at 4 am and the east coast at 7 am right now. I often think of things like that. People are bustling around on the east coast and still sleeping in LA. Well, some are anyway.
Regardless. I’m laying on my bed looking at my painting of “My Sweet Rose” by Waterhouse. Not my favorite art but I had to purchase it for some reason. Maybe its the simplicity or the stillness. It’s peaceful. Maybe it makes me feel in tune with nature. Who knows. On the other wall a photo of a man at a piano. Smoke coming out his nostrils and mouth. Relaxed, and the old white tank top the man is wearing is the comfort that I’d like to find in everyday life. Worn in, broken in. Comfortable. I’d like to find that person called a soul mate. Someone I’ve known before in other lifetimes. Why does it seem that there is always some kind of obstacle or wedge or circumstance that keeps people apart. I have to relinquish my hopes sometimes. I have to drop my head and let the tears spill onto my legs. I could be given the chance to walk right up but I’d never do that. I suppose I believe too much in fate. If it’s mean to be it will be, if not, then I suppose another lifetime then.
I’ve always loved the movie “Somewhere in Time” It’s been my favorite since I saw it when I was very little. I cried the first time I saw it and I still cry when I watch it. The only thing worth much in this world is love. Love is what matters. A person can hide behind anything. A mask, liquor, drugs, wealth, fame, or walls and over everything, above everything one thing remains. Love. Love endures forever. Through lifetimes, and years, and eternity. …..The Taj Mahal is still standing.
Just a post to say once again it’s not what it seems. No matter how much you want it to be.
Stop making a sad mess.
Just stop and take a moment
It’s not the one you think it is
Stop, breathe, stand still
What you’re searching for is getting ready to happen. Stop concentrating on the signs you think are there, and realize and think about all the signs that say it’s not the one.
I’m debating on writing a book. My own past life recall, and including how others can tune into their own recall. Great news is that I will be accountable for better grammar than on this blog . LOL. It would be nice to give back to others and instead of your ever popular “past lives, do I have one book”. I could reach out to those that have struggled with this issue a for a while. Curious no? For nothing more than hearing some girl talk about reincarnation. You can’t say it wouldn’t be interesting, or run of the mill
while laying down in bed I had a very eerie feeling come over me. I do not know if eerie is the right word. It’s like a knowing something is not right with someone. You don’t know who but you somehow know it isn’t Your family.
it won’t leave me be. I hate it wheit this happens.
I just woke up from a dream. This name was not only written on a piece of paper in my dream, but the name was said into my ear in my dream too. If anyone has insight write to me.
It’s funny at midnight – the things you can see. The corner street lamp puts out a glow and those same golden leaves can be seen. Every few minutes …falling to the ground. Effortlessly they fall. In the distance a dog can be heard barking, and then the moment of solitude I mean complete solitude. When things go quiet in the night.
Oh when we were younger and scorned in love. we always wanted the beautiful girl or handsome guy. Never to have it.
We get older and by chance we find ourselves being welcomed by those that would have scorned us when we were young.
How flattering and oh how our emotions and egos feel for once in our lives – they feel good! it’s all so “written in the stars” it just has to be! Then years fly by and we realize love is important. What we felt was love, only bit at us again.
When oh when will be choose the right path. When will things give us what we really want. True love. Not love that is fleeting. Not love that is a lie masking itself as “YES this is the one!” Oh to wake up and find that we to still search. We want it so much we will see and take anything as a sign. We want that kind of love so much we are blinded.
It isn’t hard to see the depth of native American spirituality just by looking at their handmade craft works. Native American spirituality includes a strong reverence for animal life, the environment, and each other.
Native American spirituality is not the same as the religion of most people. Organized religious meetings are not a part of native American spirituality. History shows that originally, native American spirituality was more of a way of daily life.
Native American spirituality is not the same for every tribe. Native American spirituality includes rituals that represent hunting and growing of earth’s produce, which was such a prevalent way of life for native Americans. History shows that native American spirituality included many ceremonies and rituals that were practiced before, and even after hunting expeditions. It was thought that native American spirituality in this way would insure continued success in hunting.
History shows that in general, the white man viewed native American spirituality to be nothing more than a bunch of superstitions and old wife tales. Tribal leaders who practiced native American spirituality were sometimes subjected to a jail term of thirty years. The United States and Canadian governments forcibly tried to change the way native American spirituality was practiced by converting them to their so called suitable religions.
History also shows that certain tribes had leaders called Shaman, who were responsible for overseeing native American spirituality. History shows that native American spirituality held that spirits entered the Shaman’s body during ceremonies, and by beating drums and chanting, the process would be more successful. Native American spirituality caused the tribes to believe that the Shaman could tell why a hunting expedition did not turn out successfully, or why sicknesses affected some in the camp.
Native American spirituality commonly employed beliefs that spirit creatures controlled the weather, hence the reason for the rain dance and other similar rituals.
History shows that part of some native American spirituality held that animals were originally humans, and they share the same ancestors. Several differing beliefs exist in native American spirituality about life after death.
At reaching the age of puberty, young boys traveled outside the camp into the wilderness, where they could receive a vision of native American spirituality that would guide them as they finished reaching adulthood, and continuing on throughout life. Females did not go through this type of native American spirituality.
The part of native American spirituality that was called the Sun dance was a religious ritual to pray for continual life, that of humans and the earth’s bounty. The Sun dance also brought good health, friendship with other tribes, and thanked the Creator who oversaw native American spirituality.
The main feature of native American spirituality, no matter which tribe is the relationship of man with the land.
(Oh and Native American jewerly is quite remarkable and interesting to me. It always had flaws in it. )
FACING west, from California’s shores,
Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound,
I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the
land of migrations, look afar,
Look off the shores of my Western Sea—the circle almost circled;
For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere,
From Asia—from the north—from the God, the sage, and the hero,
From the south—from the flowery peninsulas, and the spice islands;
Long having wander’d since—round the earth having wander’d,
Now I face home again—very pleas’d and joyous;
(But where is what I started for, so long ago?
And why is it yet unfound?)
When I was 14 years old and being a misfit in school, I went to a bookstore – one of the bookstores that most kids didn’t venture into. I was excited because it was different. There was incense and music and books you didn’t find in regular bookstores. It was thrilling. I still love going there. Anyway when I went into the store, an older woman was coming out. She looked right at me and said ” Find the man who is searching his roots. Find the man who is searching for wisdom.” I just stared at her. She moved past me, and before she could get out the door she said, “You have many things in common with this man. Don’t be afraid to try no matter how difficult.”
I never tried, but it happened. He’s in and out of my life now. The monster has a way of touring us all. In love two ships passing in the night. Our secret.