Storm

Turbulence creeping over East Peak of Wahatoya

Janice Walters reminds me that “not all is as it seems”. The Divine Realms and Gaia remain in a place of equilibrium and peace at all times, lighthearted and with a disarming “sense of humor”.

All is Well. We are safe no matter the situation.

Storm

by Janice Walters

The sky turned inside out.
Earth cried to be shriven.
The sacrament of baptism
from a cloudburst was given.

The mountains screamed lightning.
The plains cried thunder.
Dikes in the foothills
threatened to break asunder.

Wind took pity
shifting the raging vandal,
ushering in light
from sun’s votive candle.

Gaia laughed heartily
at this stormy time
reduced by naivety
to the lines of a rhyme.

Rough Landing

I’m not feeling very poetic now. My brain is short circuiting and yet I search for words to describe scenarios that float in the vast expanse of wilderness closing in on me. I stop now for a moment to butter Lindy’s english muffin and grab some water. Earth Mother is squeezing me with her messages and here in front of my laptop I will speak for Her:

Those of you with sensitivity have felt the shiftings, some subtle and some not so much. Sydney has a penchant for picking up the infections of my skin and deep injuries to my mantle. She has kept a brave face even though feeling the injuries to her own body as each of you feel because of the injuries, the polluting of my own body. For most of you of good heart, who have loved the Land, this is not on you but it affects you deeply. Those who deliberately pollute and rape me, you will not escape. The time frame to reverse your perverse actions is almost gone. For those who love the Land, be like the gypsies and nomads, the indigenous peoples, learn to pack up and move, pack up and move and you will find a way through the tumultuous times ahead of you. Covid is just the beginning, not brought on by me but by your service to self elite. A cycle of earthquakes in Taiwan and the west coast of Mexico, along the Ring of Fire was expected but will be amplified in the coming couple of years due to the damage to my internal organs. Who I am in Spirit is untouched. The waters are pristine and I am in perfect balance along my eternal spine. I embodied the Earth with my presence, my goal was to ground you in your mortal lifetimes upon my skins. Many of you are grounded and with me so I send this message again. Be ready to be as gypsies, be groups of peoples caravan-ing to pockets of safety with the like-minded, freedom loving, compassion filled populace. For those of you who live in the skies of your spirit, let down your landing gear and prepare for landing. You are strong enough to withstand the turbulences if you follow the messages from Spirit, able to detect those who would harm you and your loved ones and able to group together with compassion with the like-hearted and minded. The next few years will transition the infirm and very old ones. There will be elders who can move and make the trek. They will be those who hear the messages clearly. You will drop the contamination of the Matrix and its cheap, destructive, imprisoning technologies but technologies will be provided that are not tied to deception that will help you. Spirit must wipe clean the negative energies with its upgrading surges of Light. This will not affect those with light heartedness. So, no one goes untouched. Some will find this touch harmful and some will find it uplifting so this is the process of weeding out my garden. And it will happen everywhere. Everywhere. There is a general dismantling occurring now: an INCREASE in divorce, families splitting up, migration, losing of jobs and homes, illness, domestic abuse, mental illness, addiction, restricting of human rights, minorities being attacked and killed, fires, intense and frequent storms, hurricanes and tornados. Spirit and I are stirring the pot, breaking up old negative beliefs and patterns.

A note to Sydney: as an empath you have been susceptible to my injuries. On a daily basis, follow my movement meditations to buffer you and heal you in these times.

Me: Strap in your seatbelts. Put on your oxygen mask first so you can assist others. When you land, be prepared.

Photo by Jason Toevs on Pexels.com

Pink Champagne

by Janice Walters

Wahatoya: Breasts of the Earth: The East Peak

I have been toasted with pink champagne.
What more can the two of us gain?

We both have spoken, more or less,
and now with this morning’s soft caress,
you touch me to my very core
–largesse greater than ever before.

All through the seasons and gifted years,
you’ve made me laugh, and brought me tears.
We’ve found a place that speaks our worth
dwelling on this, our Gaia Earth.

East Peak this morning I can see
the Taoist flow in you and me.
More than amity, our connection;
Sweet and intimate is our affection.

I toast you back with pink champagne.
What more can the two of us possibly gain?

My View

It is with the feeling of gratitude I present to you, a gifted poet from my Homeland of Huerfano County, Colorado.

Wahatoya: Breasts of the Earth Photo by JW September 2022

It is a humble view,

seen from a small cottage

set in a hollow

beside a rough country road.

 

It is my view,

one that I alone can see,

hindered (or helped)

by my unique perspectives.

 

Two peaks rise on the horizon.

They speak to me.

I listen,

and then I write for you.

 

Other mountains dwell here.

From every direction they stare,

but I rarely hear them speak.

I listen only when they shout.

 

Wahatoya.

Twin Peaks.

Breasts of the Earth.

Spanish Peaks.

 

Names are many for my

mountains.

Like a woman;

maiden, married, divorced,

widowed,

their names change with

circumstance.

 

But always, they are there,

anchoring the earth

(and probably me)

as we seek our equilibrium.

 

My gratitude must seem

insignificant

to something so much greater

than anything I have ever known.

–More than I could be.

 

Perhaps my role is simply

as a mirror to these mountains.

In writing my poems I will give to

you

a gift from Colorado.

Janice Walters © September 2022

Janice Walter’s Bio

Fifty years ago, a 16 year old girl was encouraged by a Creative Writing/English teacher to put together a collection of poetry and submit it for publication. She did. It was published and a small number were sold. The girl grew older, life happened, poetry was put on a shelf and only once in a while did it beckon her. She sought to “live” poetry and not just write it. Of course, that girl was me. (Janice Walters) Today, I still live my poetry, but perhaps having a few more years than the girl I used to be, I dared to pick up my pen and write once more. I have been sharing poetry inspired by the Twin Peaks of Southern Colorado. My intention is to follow them through the seasons, take some drives with my husband, Ben and snap more photos. And of course, write more poetry. Thank you to all the Huerfano Community friends and those personal family and friends who have been so positive in their comments, likes and loves. I am anticipating a collection being put together and perhaps sent off to some poetry contests that will publish the work, if I can win. Otherwise, I just may self-publish. No one knows the future, but because of such a generous response from Huerfano County, my (new) family, and friends, I’m going to try…After all, isn’t trying the best part of this journey called life?
 
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Realized Love

So, what is it?

It is the unconditional love of Source made real on Earth.

It is FELT LOVE.

It’s the love a mother FEELS when she is willing to

trade places with her unborn baby if that’s what it takes.

It’s the love a fire fighter FEELS when he risks his life to save another.

Hey, what about the other side of the coin?

It’s the remorse you FEEL when you REALIZE

you have caused pain to another. It’s the AHA moment when

you see your part in causing a disaster episode in your life

and the life of others. And then back to an airy-fairy

episode in your life: the love you FEEL when you

sense everyone and everything on Earth is you.

So why aren’t you in Heaven tiptoeing through the tulips then?

Yeah, why are you here? Come-on, there’s gotta be a reason?

Well, here you can really FEEL stuff. If Heaven is the cake, then

our feelings are the icing. It’s so delish to sink your toes

into warm sand as salty waves lick between them.

Don’t you think that God wants to FEEL that?

No, you say that Heaven is already perfect?

Yeah, but once you taste the icing, it’s like you can’t go back

to plain perfect cake again, get my drift?

Heaven is the field of potential for All That Is.

And you and me here on Earth sluggin through the traffic,

we are realizing that potential. Oh great. So when our bodies

wear out from fighting the traffic and we get beamed up, Scotty

what do we do with all this potential we face

when the elevator door opens?

I think we add an octave of felt texture to the swirling Painting.

We enliven it, harmonize something new into the mix.

Heaven grows even more delish.

Because of you and me.

DISROBE

Just look around at the world.

What do you see?

Sharp corners. Sharp angles.

A world built that way

because our eyes

see that way,

informed by injury.

Others are dangerous

because our eyes

see that way,

informed by injury,

entrenched in shame.

We seek the bandages of belief

in religion, political parties,

science, computer generated life,

avatars replacing organic beingness.

Our senses project ourselves as fragile,

informed by injury so we

hide behind the bandages of

suits, ties and trendy dresses.

Our senses form beliefs

informed by injury.

We dress the world in fear.

The Metaverse is here,

an artificial escape from injury,

spitting us out into a fake heaven.

Will we drown in it?

Bravely plunge off the high dive

of your experience.

You will be there at the bottom

to catch yourself.

Your soul doesn’t believe in your injuries.

It only sees your badges of courage.

Your soul reminds you that

your injuries are

scabs ready to peel off showing

new skin, new life.

DISROBE

Photo by Victoria Borodinova on Pexels.com

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

From: Poet’s Corner/Esquina Poetica

Story Time: A musical called Gillian

Gillian is a seven-year-old girl who cannot sit in school. She continually gets up, gets distracted, flies with thoughts, and doesn’t follow lessons. Her teachers worry about her, punish her, scold her, reward the few times that she is attentive, but nothing. Gillian does not know how to sit and cannot be attentive.

When she comes home, her mother punishes her too. So not only does Gillian have bad grades and punishment at school, but she also suffers from them at home.

One day, Gillian’s mother is called to school. The lady, sad as someone waiting for bad news, takes her hand and goes to the interview room. The teachers speak of illness, of an obvious disorder. Maybe it’s hyperactivity or maybe she needs a medication.

During the interview an old teacher arrives who knows the little girl. He asks all the adults, mother and colleagues, to follow him into an adjoining room from where she can still be seen. As he leaves, he tells Gillian that they will be back soon and turns on an old radio with music.

As the girl is alone in the room, she immediately gets up and begins to move up and down chasing the music in the air with her feet and her heart. The teacher smiles as the colleagues and the mother look at him between confusion and compassion, as is often done with the old. So he says:

“See? Gillian is not sick, Gillian is a dancer!”

He recommends that her mother take her to a dance class and that her colleagues make her dance from time to time. She attends her first lesson and when she gets home she tells her mother:

“Everyone is like me, no one can sit there.”

In 1981, after a career as a dancer, opening her own dance academy and receiving international recognition for her art, Gillian Lynne became the choreographer of the musical “Cats,” both in London and Broadway. She also directed and choreographed the Vienna production.

Hopefully all “different” children find adults capable of welcoming them for who they are and not for what they lack.

Long live the differences, the little black sheep and the misunderstood. They are the ones who create beauty in this world.

“And those who were seen dancing, were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

The Sinner’s Knot

Could God have set us up to

make mistakes?

Could we have agreed to it?

Here there are weird kinds of

choices, many that are Catch-22,

slamming you between

a rock and a hard place.

On purpose, the knot just

gets tighter and tighter.

But once you stop struggling and

take your last breath,

you pop yourself out of Time,

you become a free, flowing path

and guess what,

you’re still breathing.

You see clearly now, how you tied the Knot

to plummet yourself over the waterfall

of suffocation in order to wake up

enough to remember

that you chose this imperfect stranglehold

to set yourself free.

So you would know what free means.

Mistakes and imperfection are not the same.

Mistakes grow you into the flow of realized love.

Then you can know of the imperfect perfection

of the beating of your heart.

Life’s What You Make It

Dear God,

please stop me from worshipping at the Altar of the Past.

“You’re seeing a bit of the Truth, now, aren’t you?”

Uh huh.

“What else are you seeing?”

I am seeing that I like to worship at The Altar of Trauma too.

“Why is that?”

Because Mom and Dad loved me that way?

“In the past?”

Uh huh.

“Well now, in the forever now, here in my Land, they love you with gentle kisses and hugs. Can you forgive them for their mistakes on Earth? Can you begin to see that letting go and forgiving was the plan all along so mistakes were written into the Plan for Life on Earth, in the first place?”

It’s hard to wrap my head around that. I think my brain cells are dying.

“I hope so. Only your heart, Our Heart, can understand and forgive.”

I don’t think my heart is beating anymore.

“But you talk about My Heart on your website. It’s why your website exists.”

Gee, your right.

“Take your pulse, now.”

Oh, ok….I do have a pulse…my heart is beating.

“Every time you find yourself worshipping at the altar of the past, put your fingers on your wrist and count out the morse code of my Love. Even if the code misses a beat, it doesn’t matter. I’m here in your heart beat until you come home to rest in my Heart Beat. The truth is you never left. You live inside me, inside my Heart Beat but you forgot.”

Wow. Wow. I’m feeling better. I don’t talk with you very often. I like it.

“Put your fingers on your pulse and we’ll talk more often, ok?

Ok. Love you, God.

“I love you too. And remember, everyone loves you too as you love them. And everyone lives in you as you live in them as you all live in me.”

Yeah, everything is all right.

It Takes Courage

THE NEST OF INTIMACY
by Jeff Foster
 
It takes courage to listen to someone as they share their joy, fear, anger and pain. To be soft and receptive as you listen. To be aware of your own defenses – your impulses and urges to attack or withdraw, to suppress yourself or suppress the other – and just stay present, and receive ‘what is’. To hear another’s truth, without trying to fix them or advise them, without trying to change their experience in any way. To hear their joy and their pain, their disappointment and their anger too. To hear the effect something you said or did had on them, even if that triggers a big discomfort in you, even if it makes you feel ashamed, or guilty, or afraid. To be aware of your triggers, to honour them, to breathe into them, to let them into the light, to bless them with awareness, but to keep listening. To make it safe for your friend or partner to be vulnerable, to step into their own courage, to tell their truth, the truth that hurts, the truth that frees, the truth that heals. To give them as much space as they need to share. To hold them as they break, as they burn, as they confess, as they tremble with fear or joy. To give them that gift. The gift of relational safety. The gift of active listening.
 
And it takes courage to speak up, too! To be clear and assertive and direct, yet remain open and delicate. To listen as you speak. To say “no” when you mean no, and “yes” when you mean yes. To tell your raw truth. To let your friend, family member or partner know what is okay for you and what is not, what hurts and what brings joy, what angers you and what makes you feel loved. To let them know if they’ve crossed an invisible line with you, violated a boundary of yours. Maybe they just didn’t know. We are not each other’s mind-readers. To speak your raw honest vulnerability, without blaming them or shaming them, without name-calling, without attack, but without protecting them from your vision either. It is a fine line for sure, and it requires presence, and slowness, and great humility, and a willingness to drop the need to be ‘right’.
 
It takes courage to break a life-long addiction to people-pleasing, to putting the feelings and needs of others before your own, to “protecting” the other from your truth, to silencing or shaming yourself in order to avoid conflict or rejection.
It takes courage to a break a life-long addiction to narcissistic self-absorption, to putting your own feelings and needs before someone else’s, to silencing or trying to change someone in order to avoid your own pain, rejection and fear of abandonment.
It takes courage to be fully present with another and fully present with yourself.
 
This is the highest possibility of relationship: To weave together a co-created nest of presence, where we both feel safe to share our authentic selves. Where we break codependent bonds, stop trying to control or save or each other, or protect each other from the pain and loss and ecstasy of living, and speak our messy truths, taking fierce ownership of our own pain and joy, our own thoughts and feelings, our own urges and desires, our own values and passions.
In a nest like this, true love can surely blossom.
 
– Jeff Foster