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Like summer sprinkles, warm feelings soothed me as I awoke to this morning’s dream and recorded it:

I’m homebound as I await knee surgery. A dear friend comes by with her black and white shaggy-haired dog. Immediately, the dog approaches me, nuzzles her head against my thigh. I lean over and stroke her soft head. She squeals with delight. I also learn of a heavily researched series featuring Jesus of Nazareth. It will be filmed in the Holy Land near the time of my surgery. I’m very excited. Not wanting to miss a single program, I inform my surgeon and his nurse.

My scheduled knee surgery suggests a correction of my hobbled spirit stunned by the global pandemic and glitches of my terminal illness; it attracts my Dreamer’s intervention to repair the corresponding disconnect within my psyche. Such is the mystery of its on-going care.

The dear friend, a carrier of the Sacred Feminine, suggests hands-on relating: both her soulful presence and her black and white shaggy-haired dog disrupt my brain fog and restore feelings. With her pet, I also squeal, and the fissures in my psych coalesce into wholeness. Yet, there is still more healing.

Jesus of Nazareth appears stirring dormant passions: Long an integral part of my spiritual landscape, especially during Gloucester directed retreats, I heed the call to reopen the gospels and interface them, anew, with my end time.

And the Holy Land, imaging Creator God’s continuous action in time/space, bespeaks the planet Earth in the throes of turmoil. This will work out, with valuable life lessons for all.

Gratitude to my Dreamer streams from my depths, keeps me humble. On my own, such repairs are impossible.

 

 

Throughout my life, psychic eruptions have enveloped my senses within bliss, have demanded unheard-of changes, and have assuaged monstrous fears. Such turnarounds veiled their Source for decades, and puppet-like, I followed, not without experiencing its strangeness and the raised eyebrows of those around me. Still I knew better than to renege and walked away from religious and marital vows, cities, careers, and some friends. With the continuing support of my dreams and my Jungian analyst, I finally retired in 2001 to compose a story from the pieces of my life.

And such a story it is. Slowly, the shadowy outlines of the Source have evolved into fuller awareness: this same Source that is guiding my end time’s growth, one day at a time; this same Source with whom I long for communion that won’t withdraw within the pockets of my psyche. From them, nasty naysayers still harass me, still fling refuse upon my thoughts and choices, still frame my eighty-four year as failure.

But that no longer works—given decades of chronic illness and pain that’s rendered me with half-life and scraped me hollow. Within that same emptiness now flourishes fresh saplings yearning for light and moisture. Such nurturing continues with each day’s willingness to do the drill, no matter how long it takes. Although still homebound, my trips to the Source are unlimited.

Hope abounds.

 

 

“Be still and know that I am God,” Yahweh says to Elijah, prophet and miracle worker huddled in the cave at Mount Horeb. “I’m not to be found in mighty winds, nor in earthquakes, nor in fires,” Yahweh adds.

Like Elijah fearful for his life, I am stressed.

Winds of gibberish, earthquakes of exploding shards, fires of angst still assail my psyche when left unguarded. Left behind are swathes of distortion related to the progression of my terminal illness and the illusion of being trapped in nothingness. Instincts clamor for fulfillment, at any cost while controlling the uncontrollable stresses to the max.

When under siege, I know to wait and grip my crucifix, hard. Within the madness slowly emerges the longed for stillness and I adjust to my new symptoms, awash in the wordless swirl of Creator-Love.

Such is my continuous spiritual growth as I await the deliverance of my old body—something I have to pass through.

So it’s about being still and praying …

 

 

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