Album: LION

So I was going through some songs, and I found this playlist on youtube. I thought these songs had some beautiful words. I haven't listened to every one. They get a bit chaotic, noisy, and repetitive, about 2 minutes in, so that's as far as I went with most of them. My favorite were Bye bye Babylon, What I See, Lion, Welcome Resurrection, and It might Get loud. 

Brandon Lake - That's Who I Praise

Bess just texted me this good song by the same artist. We heard it on Pandora but couldn't find it. She did though. So Brandon Lake is today's Artist.

 

Two more beautiful songs

 Found a good bunch of songs, I'm just going to load them on here to keep as a scrapbook of good songs. 

Brandon Lake - Don't You Give Up On Me

I was showing my mom the Gratitude song this morning, when she found this one by the same artist. Really beautiful. Love it.

 

 

Gratitude

 

This is a beautiful painting my mom is working on for a lady. One of my gratitude moments with my mom, recently, was when I was cooking in the kitchen listening to music, while she was painting, when all of a sudden my mom started crying. I asked her what was wrong. And she said, "It's sad when you fall in love with the person in the painting."  It really touched me. And I think my mom is painting, herself. Her own truth.  One we might not always see . But the one, that is smiling, and wise. And there. And knowing. And beautiful. That's the mom I love. The mom who has had so many children, and taken care of them as best she knew how.  And loved them the best way she knew how. And I am grateful for her.

                          And I am grateful for this space.

Here.

I just wanted to pause. And paint a picture here too...

And feel myself, here, in this space with you.

These past week, moths years, have been something…haven't they?

Something….

Really something.

It seems a strange and curious and wonderful thing. This life.

And the more you feel, and see it, the more it seems to show itself to you.

And the more you feel.

A gift.

To feel. So much.

A gift, one that sometimes is hard to understand, and hold.

Yet it still is a gift.

And I pause here to say it.

My gratitude.

For life.

This light.

To be able to feel so much.

To feel what it is like to be alive.

To feel it all.

To know what it is like to feel love. Real and tangible.

A gift. So beautiful.

To see, and love.

So amazing.

                To look at the gemstone of humanity. The facets, the cuts in it that hit the light just right so light is reflected in every direction, and be amazed by it.

How incredible this life is.

And so, I say, with all humility. I’m grateful for the facets God has made in me. All the cuts, and pieces he’s shaved off, so light could reflect better.

                                I’m grateful for the story and stories God has woven in and through me, and ever so grateful for the gift of being able to see some of the patterns, so beautiful. It’s hard to even describe.

To see enough, to know, how beautiful life, and how valuable each soul is.   

And if we knew, and could feel ourselves, and each other, and spirit, better, how transformed the world would be. How beautiful it would be, because we would shield each other, instead of shame. We would love, instead of fight. If we could feel our hearts echoed in another, we would choose peace. We would. I know we would!

 We would create peace, by our very presence, because God would be with us, in us, in such a loving place.

  How beautiful gratitude is. For it takes it all, and sees the beauty in ashes, and mold, in youth, and age, it knows, and is the wisest of all the virtues.  My sister, Bess, is always showing me things to be grateful for.  My mother has always had a delight in nature, and her love, of it, has always delighted me.  How Grateful I am for sisters, and mothers, and all they have taught me, of love covering another, of loving and love, and more loving.

How grateful I am for fathers, and brothers. Though I feel most they have taught me from afar, the nowness, and real, isness of the Father of all, that knows no distance, and is always present. That God’s presence, provision, protection, truth, light, and love echoes in neighbors, and friends, and of an amazing love that goes beyond space or time, still finds a way, in every condition. A steady hand always holding me. Always. 

And how grateful I am for that.

            That God is good. That the designer is Good.

          That inside, we too are good.  That love is good.

              That you are, oh so good.

 And that without contrast, of being lost, we wouldn’t understand, how beautiful it is to be found. To come home.

     To know fracture, you know true healing.

To know these things, you learn how beautiful a teacher is God.

               Ever present, running the whole show.

  How grateful I am for a compassionate creator, seeing how unconscious I have been most of my life. And yet, still spirit calls, always waiting, patiently for me to find the way.

                                Life, is so magical, and so beautiful, that words are just pointers to those places unseen to the eye, to heart places, God spaces.

                                And how beautiful a thankful heart, one that is sincere, and seasoned with the knowing that comes from compassion, empathy, experience, and dropping of ones own separateness, to know another.

I thank God for the story.

    For all the characters.

 For the ups, and downs.

For the clues along the way.

I thank God for the music, here, and always.

     That plays in the background and whispers hope in all the dark places.

         For helping to hold me through the fear, and loving me still.

 I thank God for spirit, the connecting love, that loves us all, each one, so beautifully, so personally, so unconditionally.             

 I thank God for all those he has set on my path.

 The helpers that help. And show me, and reveal that no need goes unnoticed. No. Not one.

 I am grateful for tears, and sorrow, two of the most precious gems of the heart, that keeps washing it open, keeps the light always flowing in, keeps me in remembrance of my soul, and home.

Grateful for the teachers of this earth, who show us the light and darkness, and reveal to ourselves revelations to learn from. How to love ourselves. Our real selves.

   Grateful for fathers, and mothers, and family, and brothers, and sisters, and lovers. For in them all we find reflections, and knowings, and wisdom, and love. Grateful, though I haven’t always seen it, the grace and coverings each one of them has been in my life, exactly when I needed it.

  Grateful guidance, and presences, and courage, and protection, and light to shine the way.

 Grateful for compassion, and companions, of all sorts.

 Grateful for the mystery, and the revealing. For in each soul, we find something beautiful, each story God has woven into us, so beautifully. If we knew it completely, we probably wouldn’t doubt, ever. Yet, we get to see it unfold, light, by light, and that is also so beautiful.

I am grateful for my soul sisters and sister and the light they bring into my life everyday. For reflections of grace too great for me to write down. 

I am grateful for a God of resurrection, with resurrection power.  To renew, and renew, and constantly revive me, and my heart, and soul, over, and over again. To see God revive so many things, my eyesight, my spirit, my heart, my mind, my music.

And to see it reflected in the world, and souls wake up even if it's just for a moment, is beautiful beyond words. 

I am Grateful for all the facets of life, and birth, and death, and renewal, for mess-ups, and mistakes, and for success, and failure. For in them all there is gems light to be found, and excavated.

 I am Grateful for the painting of my life, God has painted. For in it, I see, the interweaving of the divine. In it I see, the light, and color, and contrast, that every color, and every teardrop, and every rainbow, and everyone painted into it, are all created, made, painted by the master painter. All a masterpiece. All interconnected---a song,  a love story, woven, so perfectly.

 That the only hiccup comes when I forget.

 I am grateful for The Ah, So ness of this painting. That each color was painted with intention. And designed, orchestrated, and I…a facet in this painting. Thank God to know, and feel connected to the hand of the painter, for a moment, and then to all whole painting.  

  This.

      To feel ones heart.

    To feel love. And the truth of it.

 To feel the reflection of God’s love, that it changes how you see yourself, and those around you.  That moment by moment, you see spirit, the way, the truth, the light, the love, molding the story before your eyes, bringing laughter, and unity to places you never thought possible. Bringing music to broken hearts, and love to loveless places. Healing to hurts, hope to the hopeless, softness to the hard places, mending to the broken places, light to the darkness, flavor and seasoning enlivening places, warmth to the cold places, coolness to the too hot places, peace to the peace-less places, dreams to the dreamless, vision, to the vision-less, freedom to those captive, renewal, and redemption to all the parts in need of redeeming, seeing to the unseen souls, looking to those who hadn’t been looked at. Knowing to the unknown. Color, to the colorless. Hearing to those deaf. Eyes with those who had no seeing. Rhythm, and song, and unity to a world, in world that had forgotten its soul song, is now remembering how to dance.

One note at a time.

                 And so, I say, a humble thank you.

              For I know enough to know, that whether seen, or unseen.

     Love, does not have only one container. It lives in temples that welcome it. And its power reaches beyond anything our human minds can comprehend. It is the stuff and fabric of creation. It doesn’t have walls, nor is something you can control. You allow it. And it creates you. The best you. And the best me. And the best world. Because that is what love is. The best of the best of the best. The light, of the light, of the light.

The knowing, of the knowing, and knowing, on into forever.

And we, who have tasted this knowing, this divine flow, this connection to the infinite, know that God is Good.

That love is the story.

And behind the paint.

Behind the music.

Within the folds of life itself.

God has signed his signature on every piece of work.

And I sign my name, here, too. With love. With a little gratitude mark, pointing as best I can, to best and most beautiful places seen, and unseen.

The heart.

The palace of God. That keeps its doors always open for me. Always there is someone to light the way there, always an angel in disguise keeping me in love with life, with God.                                                          

May its doors always welcome us in.                                       

     That is the place I am most grateful for.                                                                            

                                                              

Revelation Song

 

Bridge Over Troubled Water

 

Enya - May It Be

 

Megan Woods - The Truth

 

Phil Wickham - The Jesus Way

 

Plowshare prayer

There are so many people, so in need of love, truth, light and healing. Myself included. 

Sometimes it's easy to see other people's need for grace.

And forget to include myself in that.

Sometimes it's hard to see the truth behind all the masks. Sometimes it's hard to see that behind the stories we tell, usually there is great pain. 

A neighbor boy came by today, while I was playing koto in the sunshine. I had just bought a new/old koto with a beautiful covering. And the sound is so beautiful, and rich. I was really just appreciating the warm sun, and the beautiful sound.

The boy drove by on scooter, once, and then again, and he waved. And I waved back. He came over, and chatted. He told me stories, and he got this weird glint in his eye, and started telling me many naughty things he had done, or said he'd done, mostly I feel they weren't exactly true. It felt very---clouded.

 I believe his parents are divorced, and he doesn't have present mother to buffer his father's anger, and other naughty habits. And it is sometimes, so painful to feel into all of these things.

Painful to see at such a young age.

It feels like there are so many strong energies, and it causes something inside me to feel a great sorrow.   The many stories the mind tells itself. Trying to make sense of things.

Sometimes I have a hard time understanding many things.  

But I do understand that love is a beautiful thing.

The heart is my dwelling place. 

That is the highest realest thing I know.

And though the mind tells stories.

The heart knows that love is a beautiful space, a covering of grace despite all life's troubles.

This song found me today. My sister, Rochelle sent it to me. And it seems appropriate. 

For there are so many, so many hearts that are in need of great healing. Light, and truth, and presence, for a resurrection of all the beautiful bits of consciousness that forgot its goodness---a remembrance of the parts of our childhood selves, that knew we were worthy of love, and being loved, and that we are children of God.

Held always in his hands. 

A space of goodness. 

How beautiful it is when love is the space we dwell in.

How beautiful it is when love is loved. When healing, and peace is what we value. 

When children are loved. 

When we love ourselves. And give that truth away to each other.

 

   

Gods Promises | 100+ Healing Scriptures

 

The blessing---david arkenstone

 This song is so beautiful, and so meditative. For some reason my ear candling experiment upset me. Mostly because I wrote about whilst I was so exited about it, but didn't see all its hazards, didn't want anyone else to hurt their ears. And for myself, I had wax drip down into my ear, a little too warm. And that worried me, that it might not be good for someone else. I think it has pro/cons. But it's not super safe, I feel. 

 Perhaps there is something out there is more refined.

As for now, my ear candling, will be music. Best meditation. And warms the heart.

Another song that found me

 

Giants

 

Unity

So, I thought I'd stop and take a snapshot of the abundance that has just floated in and is always such a fun surprise. 

Gifts that come.

Without any effort.

Just brought in. 

Beautiful things.

 Things I didn't now I liked.

When things like that happen, it feels like Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and Birthdays wrapped into one. 

And so abundant. 

My wonderful heart friend neighbor brought over a tea, on the 31st to help with headaches.  

She also made a shepherds pie. And we had a great feast.

Her husband sent my sister, and I a card, he drew. He is an amazing artist, and has a good soul, I believe.  He has had a hard life, and has been incarcerated, since he was young. He has beautiful handwriting, he's written several books. And our friend loves him. That I know.  I know she has appreciated the wisdom he has learned, by being where he is, and his is doing his best where he is at. I know she loves him dearly.  And seeing how unconditional she is, is beautiful. And that is beautiful to me. She is a good example of a mother. Loving.

I sent him a letter telling him of our summer adventures.  He also sent us another letter, and this beautiful picture of  woman, with an amethyst on her forehead.

What else has floated in.

So much...

My Sister Laurie found a place where they try not to waste food, and brought down heaps of chocolate chips, tons. And boxes and boxes of of sunflower lecithin.  

Tons!

So now we are mixing it with all our smoothies. And it's been quite fun. It's very good for you.

At the bird center, a man gave us flute-whistles and two harmonicas, and a kalimba.

 My neighbor who we've given massages to, came by with a squash that my mom had been craving. The kind she had just wanted.

My niece and Sister Holy came by, and brought by loads, of food---their neighbor harvests stuff that's a bit old at stores. And gives it away.

And it was good stuff.

Avocados, so many.

Kombucha. My sister and I love komucha.

 Almond milk.

Cake, and pastries. 

Cheese, so much cheese (this is from the cheese plant they get for a dollar a pound) 

Salsa, 

Dip.

So much.

So much overflowing that It's a little crazy.

So much so, it's a fun thing to get to re-gift to someone who needs, or wants it.

It feels like we've become a port, to receive, and also re-gift things. 

How fun it is. 

A thanksgiving feast.

Onions.

So much abundant harvest. That we didn't have to grow.

 And not just food. Moments to be seen, and digested. Beautiful snapshots of God showing off.

When they brought all this harvest, my niece brought her daughter Madeline down, (short for Mary Magdalene) who was just Christened at church the last Sunday before this one. She's so cute, and has red hair. I got to hold her, and she smiled, and giggled. So cute. I held her until she fell asleep. And just holding her, was interesting, because the heat we generated was a lot. 

After her her christening at he Church, there was 60 people crowded in my nieces little house. And it was so muchy.....

It was so, so many humans. But Bess and I hung out with the kids, and that was alright. But tiring. 

On the way home, we spied our neighbors house, covered in birds. I had my camera, so I thought I'd share it. It here. 

When I showed it to my mom, all she could say, was that's a lot bird poop going to be on that house. 

 

Seeing those birds on the roof, was one of my favorite bits about the trip. And sitting with my nieces out in a different old house next to the main, one, where they started a fire in the fireplace, and we sang a bit, and visited.

So, something randomly, and cute, was the gift they brought over--- this kombucha bottle caught my eye. 

Like spirit handed me a gift.

 

Some of the words on the bottle were so cute.  

"All the unexpected things that happen along the way. 

The synergy of music.

Transcends the sum of  its individual parts.  

Music has the power to bring us together and make us feel our most alive. The beats we dance to. The new friends we meet. "

Can you hear it, Inside this bottle is a synergistic symphony of beneficial microorganisms working concert to create the perfect kombucha. Their musical creation is the soundtrack to our health and happiness. 

 As I hold hands with my brothers and sisters, we are connected through, love compassion, and kindness. Our bond is built with respect, and equality, for e are stronger together than apart. The power of our unity allows us to overcome adversity negativity, and division.

Also that same night, of the gift of unity kombucha, pandora was playing this song. So I believe the message of that day, the snapshot. 

Unity.

There have been so many of these little gifts. And I don't know if I can remember them all to document. But I'll try to write the ones that stand out. Last month, on the 9th, our neighbor that invited us to all the music events of the past year, invited us again, to a Utah symphony. And gave us four tickets. 

We decided to go, and they gave t shirts away. 

 What was interesting about this concert, was that they were very skilled. 

And Bess and I were having fun commenting back and forth about the way the violinist played. And just experiencing it together.

When all of a sudden this guy randomly, in-between songs, comes over, and says, "You two are too noisy. Please be quiet!"

It was such a moment of shame for us.

We felt real bad. He was clear across the way, and I didn't quite understand that he could hear us. Maybe see us pointing a bit. 

Well, Bess and wanted to get up and leave. 

We hadn't thought we were noisy. Either way, I closed my eyes, and tried breathing slow, and tried not to feel the shame, as it seems anytime we Bess and I are together, people think we are noisy. And it was the feeling of it, felt violent. Or something of that nature. It just was hard. 

As I feel shooshed so much of the time. I don't know how to not feel shooshed. 

I just think our energy is noisy. Maybe?

Either way, I asked God to help me not be angry back in my heart. And we both thought back to the times we'd been the person who'd shooshed someone who didn't deserve it. 

 But it was hard--- the expansive me, felt smalled. Childish so much of the time.

Bess and I both tried not to close our hearts. And forgive. 

At the end, it was funny because there was a raffle, and I guess the guy who'd shooshed us, Won tickets to the next concert. 

He stood up, and Bess and I got a good look. And we both wanted to not rub shoulders again. But as it turns out, as we were walking out, and visiting, he found us in the parking lot.

And he apologized, and gave Bess a side hug.

And that was amazing too. That he had the awareness to say he was sorry.

He said he gets angry, and his kids were being noisy. And either way...Bess and I went home, a little confused. 

We hadn't planned on even going to this concert. We'd seen the advertisements, and said that unless God brought us there, we wouldn't go because the tickets were more expensive than we wanted to pay. 

And since mom didn't want to go, and my brother doesn't like concerts, Bess gave the two extra tickets to some friends in Fillmore.

 

So many bits, and knowings, and snapshots that seem like Spirit is saying, "Hi. I wanted  to stop in, and confirm that the music is still playing. Love is still singing. Just so you remember. God is still sovereign, conducting this whole show. Spirit is just sending you a little message to let you know, so you don't forget. That the grand conductor, is still at the front.

Still waving his hand.

And the angels are always singing.

Listen.

Hear the music. Feel the unity of the song that is being sung.

Even if you can't see it.

Your higher self sees.

And loves.

And always knows.

And holds space always open. 

But sometimes the me here. That sees the close up things.

Sometimes feels very confused.

And feels the close up things. Knows enough to know that love is the only place to look from. 

And that piece by piece, seeing by seeing.

Knowing by knowing.

We look through each others lenses to more fully understand, from all perspectives God's view. All the facets of life.

And give back the best snapshot of God we can while on this earth.

Sometimes God is smiling. Sometimes sad.

Sometimes doesn't know. Sometimes is lost. Sometimes is found.

 All pictures. But the best picture, think. Is when were are all together, in heart.

And maybe the photographer, takes a moment to zoom out.

To see all the eyes, and faces looking back at him.

And waits until everyone is focused on one point, waits until there are more smiles than frowns. 

Waits for those real bits to take a picture of.

To put on the wall. To remember the face of God, the family tree of humanity.

And give back what it is that is seen.

And so, as I try to have clear seeing.

I step back from the crowd, and stand in my heart. It is the only place I know where to stand. Where to see from.

To see with the eyes of humility, and unity, simultaneously with the sovereignty of the heart.

Into the knowing, of the one.

All things are dancing in God’s way. And perhaps, I was born, to maybe see it.

And write it down.

And see, how everything was orchestrated perfectly for you to wake up. Look, see, the music of spirit calls.

Even in the unconsciousness of humanity. If there is one soul looking.

One heart knowing.

God is.

Gathering all the parts of his body.

And loves each peace.

So many of us. I see we all did what we did, with the light we had to see by. And even when we have light, sometimes we don’t understand what it is we are seeing.

And so, I see that there is great need in this world for presences, and compassion.

A going back to those things that are soft, and real, and slow.

To reclaim our childhood, and our raw playful, ways of compassion, and sharing, and curiosity, and wonder.

To give back to ourselves those missing pieces that somehow got lost, or stolen. And so mostly, as I look, and see, my heart shows me things.

Knowings.

It opens itself up, like a playground, and sees how much need there is for space.

A safe place to play.

Grace.

And heart.

A mind rooted in God, and great humility.

And a higher seeing, from a heavenly mind.

Apples

 

Dear blog,

 

Hi...

My body is has been feeling so hot...

My heart so hot. 

Especially when go out with people, my body feels like it heats up. It's sometimes a bit uncomfy. 

I don't know how else to explain it.

It feels like my temple is cleaning itself.

For a minute, all is quiet. And it feels like these past few days have been holy days, days to look at and see, and have greater perspective on all that has happened.

Sometimes I feel strange. Because I feel afraid to communicate, or express myself. It seems so natural to share things with some people. And other times, not so much. 

So my throat chakra feels in need of balance. To allow my own truth, and a safe space in me to communicate. And it's something I get annoyed about. The best I know, is to be with my own fearful inner child, and allow the isnness of how I feel, without making it need to be different.

And I think, perhaps, the best is for me to look and listen without feeling that I have to push away words. Nor gather them in.

But look.

And that causes me to feel a bit better.

I had these huge guilt feelings, that didn't even make sense. It sounds silly but these feelings we so big. 

And yet they came and visited, and it was so not fun. But I see, that sometimes, my greatest truth, and the greatest truth anyone has ever spoken to me, was being a soft and spacious presence, that allowed and loved and just looked.

And what peace allowing brings.  

 My higher self. Who is wise, and spacious, and kind, and speaks truth with greater presence, is my solace, the throat chakra of inner stillness.

And that, is the greatest truth I've ever heard spoken.

Love, and grace. Light.

The trigger for some of these feelings, was I was wanting to load the truck full of branches that my brother had left on the lawn, he'd started trimming the trees. And I thought I should load them in the truck, and take them to the dump. 

It was dusk at the time, and I thought I'd just do it, and let Bessie rest, as she was in her zen place, and so much of the time is having to dance in form. 

So, I went alone, though I get a little scared, and afraid of going places alone, especially at dusk. But I told myself, that I am never alone, and it seemed like the right thing to do, so we could have a truck in case we needed to drive somewhere, because our other car randomly got a flat. 

So I went and unloaded the truck. There was another human there, a little odd seeming, but otherwise, alright. 

I unloaded it. 

But as I was driving home, I remembered my sister, and brother said they were giving away a bunch of apples at the church.

We all like apples, so I went, without telling anyone. I thought I'd be back pretty fast.

But when I pulled up, my uncle was there, helping, my neighbor, and the bishop, give away this huge bin of big, beautiful apples. 

I think he does this every year.

 These three, my uncle, A lawyer. One the current bishop. One past bishop, into politics, and farming.

Three people that have had a lot of influence in our community. Apples. 

And three people that I'd finally gotten to know a bit better this past year. Especially my uncle, who I have felt more connected to than I ever have at any other time in my life, as Bess and I have gotten to know him a bit better, than when we were kids, at least I feel through chiors, and music, we've shared a seeing space, where the heart shines through, more than the forms that we once took.

I was just going to get some apples, and go right back home. 

But I paused, and looked at them, and thought that I should stay, for a bit longer. I realized that they might need help loading apples. So I got in the truck, and helped box, and bag them. 

And it felt good helping, and seeing each other. And I felt for a moment we were just loading apples. And it was nice, doing a thing together. Something real. Sharing a space. 

Here there wasn't a politician, a lawyer, or a Bishop. 

But just us.

Apples.

And a shared space.

And that was nice.

Boys, much like my neighbors, digging in the garden. 

My uncle is learning the guitar, and we had fun talking about a guitar player musician called um... somebody Jimmy Emmanuel? I may remember in a minute.

I didn't leave until the apples were all in boxes, and bags. And they let me take some home, and some to my neighbor Amelia.

Around this time, I realized, I'd been gone for a little too long. And it was getting dark. And my mom, and sister were probably freaking out, because I had the only working car, and I had been gone for a while.

And they wouldn't have known where I was at, other than that I had gone to the dump.

I had my phone with me, while I was taking apples to Amelia, and tried calling home, and had seen I'd missed a call from my sister. 

Amelia didn't come to the door, so I left the apples. Bess didn't answer.

So hurried home.

And oh boy. Bess and mom were real worried, and I felt bad, as I had just gotten really into the moment, of loading apples. 

Sometimes I forget to communicate. Sometimes I get real focused.

Either way, I apologized. And realized my error, and totally would have been scared too if Bess hadn't told me where she'd be at. 

I guess she and Ameila were both ready to look for me. And my mom was real worried too.

They were pumped full of adrenaline.  

Oh dear. I totally understood their angst. And mostly, I realized that I am lucky to have people in my life, that worry about me.

Though, I don't know what happened, because later night I felt a strange overwhelming sense of guilt just float in.

Wow. It was interesting. I don't know if that's the right word. But it wasn't fun. No.

It was huge.

Like it had triggered a junk drawer of just old feelings of shame, and guilt. And where did it come from?

It was loud. And said I shouldn't have helped with the apples. And that I'd forgotten to wash my hands after the dump. And a boat load of things.

Things that were out were way out of proportion.

Stuff my higher self totally saw as just junk drawer stuff. 

Yet visitors like these are loud.

Should have's....

Should have washed hands kept floating in my mind over and over. It was a little paranoid. Too much.

Where was this all coming from?

Should haves.

Yet...

Sitting with it was like sitting with all my childhood should haves, halfs.

And just sitting with it was hard.  This mind storm. That pulls on things, and says so much. The funny thing is, I realize that this is old stuff.

But higher self, told me better. 

And sat with me. 

And the visitors, eventually came, and left. 

The heart knows better. 

 The higher seeing knows better.

And they are the keepers of God's temple. Not imposters.

And all the split pieces, the internal lawyer, and politician and Bishop, are the product of a split mind. And under grace, under that tree, and the fruit is oneness.

Under grace, masks fall off.

And the space within each is seen.

Grace washes all hands, and all feet, and covers all things. This union, and fruit, is beautiful.

It wasn't so much anything that happened. 

But an old energy came to be looked at, and asked integrated back into better seeing. 

The pieces of myself that needed a better looking at.

The tree lost boys of my own consciousness. 

Something that needed healing. 

My own politician, Lawer, and Bishop, and me being a space for that.

My higher self, my heart, parenting some part of me, bringing back pieces of my own self back to my own tree.

That under the tree of grace, and love, and truth, the trinity of spirit,  

Religion, the law, and the rulers, are absorbed back into union, of love. Back into a family of one.

That we are all one.

That we are just gathering apples, under the tree of grace. We are all one family.

We are one. One heart.

No need for splitting or cutting.

And sometimes we come home late.

And sometimes we forget to communicate.

And sometimes we don't always have perfectly clean hands.

But its our hearts that count.

And we are all trying. All trying to do better.

To see better.

And in heart, we see we are all the same tree, the same fruit, the same branches. 

And the music brings us together to clear that which we aren't. So we remember the family tree we came from.