Roses

There's something fascinating going on in my bedroom. Not that - I'm a respectable widow lady, remember :)
Two months ago a very nice man in my life brought me roses on Valentine's Day. I never get tired of roses, even the force-fed, scentless variety we get in winter. I'll take them all. This was an especially lovely and large bouquet of pale pink roses so I divided them up putting them in different vases in the living room, in the dining room and in my bedroom.
They looked wonderful, really softening and lightening a room up in winter. I tried to keep them going as long as I could by snipping the stems off every so often so they could drink better - at least I think that's what they're doing. 
In about ten days their petals were dropping like large pink snow flakes and a day or so later I took them out of their vases, kissed them goodbye and sent them to the compost pile. All except for the roses in my bedroom.
This vase of roses was placed beside my son's picture on my dressing table. Along with a silver heart he gave me once and a heart-shaped stone I found on the edge of the Eagle River outside the apartment he lived in in Colorado - on the day I scattered a handfull of his ashes into the rapids there. These roses are still pink, still alive and have dropped none of their petals - six weeks or so after the others all died. This happens all the time. My house always has fresh flowers in it and there is always a vase of flowers beside Drew's picture. And they alway outlive the others by months. 
I've taken the light factor, the temperature differences between rooms and everything else I can think of into consideration, and I can come up with no earthly reason why they always outlive the others.
Thank you, sweet Drew.
 

'Tis the Season

Hi Everyone,
I've missed you and the blog which has taken a back seat  lately (as some of my BFFs have) for the reason that I'm working day and night with pre-publishing articles and blogs for Llewellyn's various sites, and giving "By Morning's Light" a last once-over before it goes into print in about two weeks time. 
My house is screaming for attention and I fear it could be put on the "Condemned - Keep OUT" list if there 're any health inspectors roaming my neighborhood. A layer of dust has settled in  and so have a contingent of Stink Bugs leaving obnoxious little foot prints and poop splats on my wood floors. There are also a few of their dead comrades lying toes up here and there where I've gotten up from the computer, grabbed my fly swatter and "Offed" them en passent. I thought that would hold their numbers down at least until the next time I get up from the computer. But I swear the little crappers - like pine trees in fear of extinction - started producing multiple loads of baby bugs. So this morning I went after them and the dust in earnest. We'll see how that works.
I have no sympathy for them. I had a friend once who whenever she swatted a bug of any kind would roll her eyes to Heaven and say, "Go to Jesus." I can't dig up that sort of guilt at all I'm afraid, but for years she added a few colorful strokes to the painting of My Life. She went to Heaven herself not long ago, and I'm sure she's with Jesus - probably surrounded by a jillion thankful little bugs. For me, I hope there's a Bug Heaven somewhere and I hope it's a long way from mine.
Back to the computer!
Hang in there everyone, you never know what's coming next. I hope it's sometthing GREAT! 

  

Curiouser and Curiouser

The strangest thing is happening.

While I'm avidly following Llewellyn's publishing process through it's release of my book "By Morning's Light," in June, I've been writing the next book and something very peculiar is happening.

This book (no title yet) is about reincarnation. It isn't a sequel to "Morning's Light". This book was created  ostensibly as a novel. The characters and the events are all make believe. I've never met the people or their dramas - that I know of -  although they could be compilations of a lot of people and events I may have known. Who knows? It has two themes. One is a love story, Ahhhhh ... the second theme throws a flood light on the possibility of past lives and how they intertwine with the present. Both themes fill bookcases in most bookstores and I know you're familiar with what I'm talking about.

My book is set in two different milleniae on two different continents - one ancient and one modern. A lot of research has gone into the ancient place because I've never been there even in modern times, and because middle school history skipped a heck of the a lot of the really interesting stuff and the stuff they taught wasn't worth reading when I was thirteen.

The strange thing is that when I pick an event and a place to stage it in, I begin to write it and later discover that I've placed the event in the exact spot where such an event took place eons ago! It happens over and over. While I'm creating, I'm picturing and describing an area that I can later pinpoint on maps, ancient and modern. I've picked it out of my imagination, I think - but then the research confirms what I seemed to know. Right down to the tree that grows by the front door! You'll see.  :) I seem to know exactly where I am.

So, am I "creating" while "imagining" the story? Or am I "channelling" it or remembering a past life?   

Curiouser and curiouser! I'll keep you posted.

Figuring Out the Energy Crisis

Here's something else I've been thinking about concerning this energetic body of ours.While acknowledging that this body human is far more than a set of arms and legs, one head (if you're lucky) and a torso with all the necessary inside parts to keep things running smoothly, I have often been stunned at the way the ethereal or energetic body can influence all of its physical components.
Take a bout of depression for example. As you know, this can really throw a wrench into the works. Depression happens to me when I'm emotionally running on empty.(I can't discuss the really serious and heartbreaking condition of clinical depression because I'm no doctor.) I'm thinking about  the occasional blues when I'm feeling bummed out.
I don't feel like eating, don't want to talk to anyone, don't want to go anywhere or see anyone. Just leave me alone. Bug off! Take your jollies and flush 'em!
My thoughts and emotions have done this. And to make matters worse prehaps they've even teamed up with physical exhaustion. Everything interacts. Now my eyes are leaking. My lungs are drawing in this bad energy and exhaling deep sighs. All I want to do is sleep. Well you can if you like. But have some chocolate first. Chocolate perks everything up.
And then there is the good stuff. You've won the lottery! Maybe you've won a contract you've worked your patootie off to get - your ship's come in! You've fallen in love. OMG You're on top of the world - you want to shout it from the roof tops. You want to tell everyone the good news and then you discover that you love everyone around you. OMG Your emotions have done this. Isn't it great? You're bung full of energy and you can take on the world if you have to.
The side effect of both these extremes is that which ever energy you're holding effects those around you. Doesn't it. Notice how your blues can throw a whole household into a funk. And your joy can lift the world. Suddenly everyone around you is smiling.
The other thing is that the blues create toxicity within our human selves while happiness releases endorphins that produce multi molecules of well- being. I want some of that. You can take the other away waiter, it's CORKED!  Unfortunately we can't always order up what we want.
What I know though, is this: inner balance can be achieved by periods of inner silence which rests my mind and body and allows me to breathe in all the goodness that exists around me. I reject the negativity, I don't allow it into this special retreat of mine. And I especially love Three Musketeers bars.
Try it. Clear you mind, breathe deeply and just BE. Just be with you. Be your own best friend - and eat more choclit.        
Cheers everyone!