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It was not just lunch, but a colorwheel of nutrition: varied greens of steamed kale, asparagus, and zucchini, orange of carrot slices, brushed gold of chicken patty, white of sliced apples with rosy skins, and buttered seeds-and-grain-toast, served upon a Botanical Garden dinner plate.

What caught my eye, though, were the zucchini slices, each patterned with small flower-like seeds filling three distinct segments—Such uniformity spoke of the hidden hand of Creator God, also empowering other hands—growers, pickers, processors, truckers, handlers filling bins at super markets, those of my personal shopper Linda and my caregiver Sharon—to provide this nutritious lunch for my waning heath.

Such ruminations stem from my continued study of Mary Oliver. In her poem Sometimes, she writes:

Instructions for living life://Pay attention./Be astonished./Tell about it. 

Because this daily imperative impresses itself upon me, the Heartwhisperings blogs continue. This is not of my doing, I assure you.

 

What happened to the summer? How did August 24th happen? Last March’s alarm over the Covid-19 pandemic has petered down to anecdotal reports. And it feels like last November’s hospice sign-up occurred two weeks ago. Like trick mirrors at a carnival, Planet Earth’s vertigo fuels caricatures of reality. How not to be duped, maintain balance, and not topple over?

Is anyone paying attention?

This is a bit of a stretch but could we be enclosed in a Time Machine, its throttles set at full tilt toward the future? Who or what sits at the controls? For what reason? Within the depths of emerging technologies lies darkness, too opaque to penetrate and only surface when convenient for the agenda of the global puppeteers.

Indeed, such sleight-of-hand appears to be the new normal and few are aware of the paradigm shift disabling our senses, watering down our values, and scarping our dreams. Like frogs slow boiling over low heat, we will eventually lose our life if measures to stay conscious are not rigorously taken.

“But that requires effort—takes me away from my nightly Netflix,” you might hear. “I much prefer hanging out with buddies of like mind. That’s all the support I need. Do leave me alone.”

Such attitudes cry in the face of Spirit’s passion to companion us in truth. And only within truth’s ambiance do we discover ultimate meaning for getting out of bed each morning to face each day’s challenges.

This is especially the case in waiting, with my eyes wide open, for the next insight to explore, then blog. Eternal life can’t be that far away, but maybe it is.

 

 

At 11 P.M., I awoke with this shocking dream:

It is night. A wealthy, mean-spirited old man lives alone in his country estate. A solitary lamp illumines the great room in which he lounges upon an oversized wingback chair, his crop of white hair tangled about his large ears. His thick lips suck a cigar, its juice darkening the creases around his mouth. Because his health is failing, he needs help with personal care. Within the shadows, numerous young women, clad only in bikinis, await their turn to be interviewed. Each must kneel before him and allow him to fondle their breasts and other body parts. I’ve no recall of having been touched, but I was hired.

Disgust forced me to end the dream by returning to consciousness. I could not bear to see myself in service to Evil, the wealthy, mean-spirited old man hiding out in my psyche. Such corresponds to the archetype of the Negative Animus as discovered by Dr. C. J. Jung in his analytical psychology in the early 1900s. I still shudder with the implications of this dream, especially having lived within its thrall for much of my life.

That the Beast is still around unnerves me.

After I reflected upon my entrapment in the dream and short-circuiting its momentum, I resorted to composing a different ending. I returned to that great room, shielded my eyes from the wealthy, mean-spirited old man, grabbed my purse, ran out the front door of the country estate, found my car under the waning moon, and raced home, still panting. Only deeper consciousness in the present will prevent further entrapments. For that I rely totally upon Precious God.

 

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