Old Stories…Old Writings…Older Dreams

Are you ready for this one?  They sent me back for a little while. Seems my kid, and few hundred other people, need me here. Being an angel is hard work, but fun too.

Last time we visited I told you that I was far away. So far that I could barely hear her tears and way to out there to make the music play. Yesterday ‘She’ sent me back to the this 3D world so I could do some more work. I think maybe it was my last lifetime, not sure. Anyway, the clock has played a few songs again, making my daughter smile a bit.

Funny mom.  But it was really good to get that nudging again.

Raven 1The only way I know to help people is through writing. Scribbling down random thoughts, pulling up old stories from long ago, while sitting quietly with my coffee.  Here is a story I started a long time ago called Second Chances–it’s just an excerpt–but the Raven seems to be important these days.

“I am your keeper, Captain”, she said, “I am called Raven.”

Jer checked his hand movement, turned it into a smart salute. Glad to know that, ma’am. Laughter tinged his voice. “My name’s Callan, Jer Callan.”

“We know who you are, Captain – and why you are here.” She turned with fluid race. “Follow me please.”

Jer eyed her slender body as she moved away and caught the notion of hand to neck breach. He gaped as the wall dissolved. He ducked through the opening but kept a watchful eye on the surrounding ripples. The sponge of his brain absorbed each minute detail as they twisted and turned along a serpentine corridor. That’s the third niche we’ve passed so far, he thought. Wonder what they’re for. He felt a sudden pressure.

“Those are the homes of our Gods, Captain,” Raven answered. She pointed up and to the left. “I take my name from that one.”

“Looks like an ordinary Raven—bird!”

“You have seen this God, Captain?” Her voice faltered. “None on our planet have been so privileged, although he is very powerful.” She stopped suddenly. “We are here. Enter please.”

Stories are healing. There are so many of them out there taking the form of books, blogs, websites, movies, plays, etc. Have you ever wondered about the minds that create these stories? I have a bit more insight now, but it always amazed me how they could create an entire world on paper.

Each morning you awake, pure of heart and mind. Each morning is also followed by night. In this world (humanness) night is perceived as scary, evil, dangerous. Don’t get me wrong, the moon is equally as powerful as the sun. It is feminine and without it there would be no balance.

You walk through the rotation of the sun, gathering images along the way. The stories shared by others; war, poverty, birth and death, all  create a story in your soul. If you let only the horror and sadness root–take hold–your humanness struggles to find happiness and love, or worse….finds it false.

moon_bird There is a veil (several really) but one that protects what ‘She’ has created. It wraps around you like a warm winter blanket, like being in a mother’s womb. It is only when you damage that veil (violence, hatred, chemicals) that your life, your humanness changes.

Be careful.

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1 Comment

March 26, 2014 · 9:50 am

One response to “Old Stories…Old Writings…Older Dreams

  1. Reblogged this on Life Textures and commented:

    I’ve been thinking about my mom these past few weeks. The music clock has been playing a lot more. Re-read her blog and…well read for yourself if you haven’t already.

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