Journey with a Rain​bow Warrior

who Walks Among the Trees

It is with much joy that I have decided to share my journal entries with you here on my website.  The entries are diverse, as is life, and you will be able to read the real-life accounts of my journey with the medicine.  Every now and then I will post what life was like before the medicine came into my life.  I will post an entry from my journal each week with the date of posting.  Blessings to each and every one of you.





October 20, 2021 / My family of pigs


Homesteading was on both our sides, my homesteading partner's and mine, so it made sense that when we found a patch of woodland, that we would start to clear it for our own homestead.  We were well versed in hard work, our lineage had made sure of that, and we put it to good use.  My partner grew up with a chainsaw in his hands, a necessary skill to have to start from scratch in the woodland that would be a future homestead.  The acreage was fully treed, in the middle of the woods, and we needed an area to grow a garden and build a house.  We rolled logs across skids we had made from felled trees, tagged to go to the local sawmill that would become the floor boards and beams for our house.  We cut tractor loads of firewood, burned piles of brush well into the night, and got up early the next morning to work full time regular jobs.  We were young, full of dreams and energy and hard work, and determination to take our plans and make them a reality.  Our house and outbuildings built, an outdoor area for pigs came next and a building for chickens.  We created our garden area with shovels and hours of hard digging work that unearthed more rocks than soil.  


We worked on our land and one thing lead to another and our homestead started to take shape.  One early Summer Saturday morning as I was walking down to the area we kept our pigs to check on our small daughter after having sent her with a container of scraps, I heard "me no like-a pigs", "me no like-a pigs."  She was waving her little hands out in front of her as if to carry home the point.  The scraps container, not in her hands, lay at one side of the pole fence, scraps half in and half out of the pen and the container still half full,  I could see that the introduction to the newly arrived pigs had not gone well. 


There's something about feeding and watering and brushing (gathering oake nuts and wild apples, making shelters from the rain and wind) and making hay bedding that makes you care and draw close to an animal and that closeness makes a part of you deeply and truly, care.  That is how we came to care for the animals that lived on our farm.  We wanted them to have as good a life as they possibly could, because, there was, in the end, the inevitable.  That's why you keep farm animals, right?  Deep down in my heart I did not want our animals to be used for food and I expressed that.  My partner, having grown up on a farm that kept many kinds of animals, and who depended on those animals for part of their income, and food for the Winter months, knew full well what happened in the Fall and had accepted it.  


We started off with two pigs, thinking one for us and one to sell.  But as we raised them and cared more and more for them, my heart became troubled.  My mind, as it wandered to how the end of my pigs lives would look, often couldn't finish the story.  I would become so upset and troubled I'd have to forget about it and go along with the feeding and caring for them without thinking about that part.  There comes a time in everyone's life, in any given situation, that a person is put on the front lines of a situation and it is them, and only them, that has to make a decision and take responsibility for what is to happen next.  I was there, and, I was sad about it.  There had been so much joy to drive around the country dirt roads to find the wild apple trees; we'd park our half ton truck underneath the trees so we could reach the apples and pick feed sack after feed sack.  We'd take them home and have them to feed to the pigs; I'd fill up a bucket with apples and walk with it down to the pen.  The pigs knew what I had in that bucket and they'd squeal and run toward their trough and each tried to crowd out the other to get the first apples that dropped down into the trough.  I'd while away the time watching them as they'd get an apple in their mouth, crack it into pieces and smack away at the deliciousness of it.  They'd snort and jab their head toward the other trying to get the same apple, and even though there were plenty of apples in the trough at once, they'd fight over just one.


Our pigs loved meal time and it was so much fun feeding them what they loved to eat and oake nuts were one of them.  We lived in what was called the oake hills so oake nuts were readily available and the pigs couldn't get enough of them.  It was a family affair when the oake nuts started dropping from the trees; we'd take our buckets and pick and pick, and then go feed them to the pigs.  Just like the apples, the pigs loved to crunch and munch on the oake nuts, and, I loved to watch and listen to them.  The pigs were getting fatter and it was Fall now and it was getting time and I knew it and I didn't want the time with them to end.  What happens when Fall turns to Winter and you don't have a building to keep your animals in?  What happens when you raised your animals for food and now you don't want this to happen?  


It seemed that anyone I talked to about how I was feeling just took it for granted that that was what you did; Fall came and the once living, loving, animals that you cared for all year long, died, and then you ate them.  Many tried to word it in a way that would make me okay with what would come next.  I couldn't even say the words most of the time, and neither could anyone else.  They'd say their words in a way that wasn't saying what actually happened.  They'd say their words in a way that if you yourself didn't know what you were talking about, wouldn't know for sure what they were talking about.  The words that were spoken were disguised and hidden as though as if you didn't say out loud what really happened, then it didn't!  


Here I was, at the end of the line, and I knew words weren't going to take action and action is what I was being asked to do because in everyone else's eyes that is what came next.  I didn't want that action to come next, I wanted to avoid it and for the life I had lived to this point, I had.  Growing up at my parent's house did not include raising animals; when we wanted meat we went to the store and bought it neatly wrapped in a package and it had names printed on it like 'hamburger' or 'cutlet' or 'steak' or 'pork'; not the words 'cow' or 'pig.'  I did not associate the meat that I grew up buying off a store shelf with these animals that I had lovingly raised and was now being asked to kill and eat.  


I talked to many people in many different professions who raised their own animals and ate them for food as to how they went about the end of their animals lives.  Some killed their own, convinced that that was the most humane way.  I didn't find any of this humane but was trying to find a way that might somehow do what was expected and not really do it.  Sounds crazy right?  Not really; I find that when your soul is trying to tell you something and puts you in a situation that you have the power to make it go one way or the other, that no matter how hard it is or how many people are against you, you should go with what your soul is telling you.  What if your soul knows ones thing but your soul has not been acknowledged and you were raised expected to play along with what everyone else is doing?


It did happen that year but to soften the blow of the end of my pigs lives I was offered a way out that didn't involve transporting them to a facility and having their lives ended by complete strangers.  Their lives would be ended on the land where they were raised, in familiar surroundings, and by familiar people.  Somehow I thought this would soften the blow and not increase the distance between my soul and what was going on here, in the physical.  Four months passed before I could go near the meat in my freezer but slowly, slowly, the eggings on by others and myself got me past the difficult situation and time smoothed out the memory and I was able to eat it.


I was getting into the swing of homesteading; growing food for my family in our garden was a joy and a delight and I'd challenge myself to grow my garden bigger and better with each passing year.  We collected all the free resources we could get our hands on, seaweed, sawdust, and manure from our own chicken coop.  From the layers each day we'd gather fresh eggs and my heart glowed to watch my little daughters, baskets in hand, walking to the chicken coop to gather eggs.  I wished I could be a fly on the wall watching them picking the eggs up out of the nests and placing them in their baskets.  It was also a lot of fun to watch the chickens out in the grass foraging for bugs, or watch them as they went headlong after a moth.  If you were a bug or a blade of grass inside the chicken yard your days were numbered.  As with the pigs, the chickens days were also numbered.  It didn't seem at all right to me to have the beautiful feelings of caring for animals, the joy, the time whiled away just watching them do what came naturally, just be yanked away.  Walking by the pig pen to the garden and saying hello to the pigs and looking over on the other side and seeing the chickens pecking and scratching gave me a beautiful feeling.  To me, the end did not justify the life.


Our young daughters watch us and learned, day in and day out, the care we afforded each and every one of our animals.  We built a roost for our chickens, nests to lay their eggs, and a yard among the trees so they could have a place in the shade in the heat of the Summer.  They produced well for us and always kept us in a fresh supply of eggs.  But, there comes a time when chickens don't lay as many eggs.  Sometimes when their egg laying cycles are nearing completion, they don't lay anymore at all.  It's at this point in a chickens life that they are taken to what the acceptable phrase around our house came to be known as 'to market.'  My young daughters were on one particular trip to market.  I'd called many places to see if they'd take our chickens, to hear what the people sounded like, their practices, to see if they sounded like a nice place to take our well cared for chickens.  I was well versed in the demeanor of people, a watcher.  I could tell by the mannerisms, the facial display, the way a person walked, the tone of their voice, a certain expression, what was the goings on inside of that person.  I suppose it was due to the years of practice, studying those around me; when you don't engage and stay in silence, you can study unnoticed.


We loaded our chickens with care, as always, in cages, secured, and covered over the cages so the chickens wouldn't be freaked out by the trip and the wind.  Now, everything secure, we set out with them to market.  My daughters were satisfied, the chickens all nestled in their cages, secured, covered over, cared for just the way we did on the farm.  I could feel how they felt, like everything was being taken care of and I could tell their inside good feelings.  I wasn't expecting the ritz when we arrived, after all, it was a place of death, not life, but my young daughters, although wrapped in the knowing and comfort of the grownups having everything under control, knew that this place was different.  It did not have the warm fuzzy feeling they got when they were feeding their chickens grass through the fence on the farm.  


We turned up the long dirt driveway from the main road and into the yard in the back of the building.  It wasn't my standard of clean and there was no warm cozy feeling, just business being done; no greeting, no feeling, no smiles, no camaraderie, hardly an acknowledgement that we'd arrived.  They were robot-like, angry, intimidating, like they didn't want to be there, like this had been the last job in the world and they had to take it.  Our name was scribbled on a piece of paper with black marker, our chickens grabbed by the legs, turned upside down and if they pecked the picker upper they got a swat.  The people were rough and they were rough with our chickens.  One particular chicken did not comply with the rough handling and started flapping its wings and would not stop and that made the handler even angrier.  He grabbed it wherever he could get his hands on it and stuffed it angrily into a crate in a stack outside the processing room. 


The sound of the frightened squawking flapping chicken trying to get away and the handler trying not to lose control of it alerted my youngest daughter and she turned around to see what all the fuss was about.  It was just in time to see a member of her beloved family of chickens being roughly and angrily stuffed into a too small crate.  Our littlest daughter's face turned from contented to a brewing storm cloud, mimicking what we all were feeling and keeping inside.  Her feelings came bursting out, her little hands in fists raised by her side and she was furious at the man who had ill used her chicken and she was not afraid to show it.  She was like the stopper in a sink that had just been pulled and the outward burst allowed our feelings to join with hers.  Now all of us were outwardly expressing just exactly what we thought as we headed down the dirt road and in the direction of home.


I don't remember how it happened because there was a long stretch after raising pigs and chickens that year that we went to buying store-bought meat and eggs.  Maybe when something isn't resolved in your soul it comes back so the distance with the lining up of your soul and what's going on in the physical can be a little less.  I was going into the business of selling organics.  It was a lot to take on; I was raising a young family and working full time, but my children were in school and able to help around and were excited to help with the crafting of items to sell at the farmers market booth.  We'd established what our gardens needed in the Fall and Spring to grow abundantly and they grew so well that we had extra to sell.  At that point it occurred to me to grow organic meat for others.  I'd seen what the stores were asking for meat and eggs and what the people were getting for their money and knew I could do a lot better for them.  At times it would infuriate me that there was not better food for people to eat and I'd get angry at our government that they were not properly taking care of their own people.  I felt that the hard working people of our area deserved better so I was going to take on the responsibility of helping out.  


I don't know how I'd forgotten what I went through raising animals in the past but somehow the need to provide good food, to show people the difference, overrode my memory and I started making plans to raise animals again.  Taking on the responsibility of raising something and carrying that through to the end to your customer, in my eyes, was a big deal.  What you say you are going to do, how you are going to raise that animal, and what you say the end product is is what I expected of myself.  That included going into a government inspected slaughterhouse.  Yes I could have unloaded my animals at the door, said see you later, and arrived later to pick up the finished product, delivered it to my customers, collected my money and that would have been that.  But I didn't.  


I had heard that some people didn't receive the same product at the finished end as they'd delivered and I couldn't take that chance.  I'd raised organic and no one else that I knew was doing it and I told my customers that that is what they'd be receiving.  How could I take money for something I'd told them was one way and then couldn't be sure that that is what they were getting?  I knew I had to follow my animals all the way through, meet the people eye to eye, and tag them myself.  My partner and I made plans that we would transport them ourselves, on the back of our truck, and with the most love and care that we could.  Our pigs didn't want to go.  We had a ramp from the truck bed to the ground for them to walk up on but they weren't going, they liked it where they were.  It was all they knew, raised together from small, cute little pigs, they'd become a family.  Sometimes they fought over food, sometimes rooting together in their yard, sometimes taking turns sloshing around in the bath we'd made for them for the really hot days.  


They all had their differences, some you just couldn't wait to see, they'd come running so fast to you that sometimes they couldn't make the corner to the food trough and you'd laugh at them trying to get their bearings.  Some of them showed off for us, and some of them seemed to be the head of the family.  Sometimes they would push each other around and sometimes all five would eat at the trough together.  They were all sizes, some long and lean, some shorter and fatter, some were a deep reddish color and some a lighter pink color.  All of them loved it when we scratched their backs or behind their ears; they absolutely couldn't get enough of it and we'd tire before they did.  Each one scrambled for it's own attention.  We were all they knew and the pig pen was their home and now we were asking them to leave and they didn't want to go.  Hours went by as my partner tried everything he could to coerce them up the ramp and into the back of the truck.  It seemed that when a pig was curious about the food that was sitting waiting for them on the back of the truck and they started up the ramp to check it out, the pig that we'd come to know as the head of the family would entice them back down.  They were looking out for each other and they knew that that thing on wheels would take them some place that wasn't their home. 


We had come to know the intelligence of the pigs as well as the way that they showed us their love.  We weren't just their meal ticket; there would be time spent with them outside of meal time and we knew they enjoyed our company just as much as we enjoyed theirs.  Sometimes there would be a grunt or a snort in acknowledgement of our time spent.  Our pig pen was outside in the great outdoors and we all had the enjoyment of the warm sunshine, and the summertime breezes blowing through the trees, and when we left the pig pen you couldn't help but feel like you'd kept company with something you cared for.  These pigs also had all these memories stored up inside of them.  I could see the intelligence in their eyes, the knowing.  They knew where they were going, and we knew they knew.  The difficulty in getting our pigs onto the back of the truck was harder than ever imagined but once the head of the family was on board the rest followed.  Finally we were ready for the road and the hour plus journey to get to where we would leave our pigs would feel like forever.  


We had apprehension built up inside of us with the difficult loading, not so much the physical part as the emotional, knowing that our pigs did not want to go and we knew it and that weighed heavy on us.  We were very aware of the difficulty of this journey and did not hold back expressing it.  My partner could see in the rear view mirror and I could see by looking back into the box of the truck what was going on; the pigs were incredibly uneasy with the transporting and they had several of the smaller pigs hidden beneath them.  We were stressed as we entered the area where we were to unload our pigs. We parked and went to see who was in charge to tell us where we should do the unloading.  As we walked across the yard to the main building we could hear squealing and barreling out from around the corner of one of the gates came a pig.  It was running for all it was worth and squealing at the top of it's lungs with two men charging after it.  It was coming straight for us so we walked to one side and let it pass, secretly hoping it would get away.  My soul was having a very difficult time with the entire situation.  It had been denied access here in the physical and that was creating a lot of stress.  As we drove into the barn where we  were to unload our pigs and lowered the tailgate to the truck we looked around for an unloading ramp, something that would bridge the distance between the tailgate and the ground.


As the owner neared our truck and noticed that we already had the tailgate lowered and before we could ask where the ramp was, he reached out and gave the pig closest to the edge of the tailgate a loud smack on the rump and sent it flying off the tailgate.  We were so shocked inside we were unable to speak as each one was swatted in the same manner as if they were his now, not ours.  We did not speak to him but when I looked into his eyes I saw a sinister arrogance toward us.  


It was not easy for me to arrive the next morning to watch my pigs go through the processing line but my responsibility to my customers was so deep and strong inside me that it pushed me to do it.  I'd spoke with the owner's son, the operator of the main floor and he had spoke with the inspector from the government  and they agreed that I could be there, the only woman in the entire processing area. 


I'd never been inside an animal processing facility before.  Being there in person was a lot different than being on the phone asking questions about how the process worked and taking their word for it.  I had full view of everything and everyone who had a part in the processing, from beginning to end.  I'm what you would call a watcher, an observer.  I have an energy synthesis that enables me to see and feel in alignment with what a person is truly feeling inside.  I was taking in every single nuance of each person and animal and it was times like this that the energy kicked into high gear so even the slightest detail did not escape my sight.  We were instructed to go to the main floor.  The killing floor I call it, because that is what it is. 


Here I could see the pigs waiting in line, outside the main room, single file, moving slowly down a runway, the line moving only as fast as one was taken inside the swinging door.  Upon entering, a metal device was held on either side of it's head, to, what the man on the other end of the phone had said, to stun them.  "They don't know anything that's going on," he'd said.  But as I stood there and watched each pig take it's turn, electrical currents being held to both sides of it's head, the squealing filling the room, and as the pig was receiving the electricity into it's body it could not withstand it.  It fell to it's knees and then to the floor as the electricity took over it's natural senses and left it in a state of uncontrolled shaking and vibrating on the the floor.  The man with the glistening knife finished the job and as the blood spilled over the killing floor and toward the drains I looked to see where my family of pigs were in the queue.


I spotted them and at once my heart softened.  There they were, one behind the other.  I could feel their energy, their thoughts, their love still intact for one another but I could now also feel that their family unit did not include me.  It did not exclude me either but I was on one side and they were on the other and the in-between would transform both them, and me.  I could see one of the smaller ones looking ahead to the other members of its family and at once I could feel it's energy.  Still unaware of what was on the other side of the swinging door, it was looking with curiosity to the others to communicate to it what was going on up ahead.  There was a deep closeness to them now that I had not seen while they were on the farm and their physical forms faded.  I could now only pick up on their love and communication with each other and I did not feel any, whatsoever, ill feelings toward me.  During that time, in the line with other pigs they did not know, waiting for what was up ahead that they did not know, I could feel them existing for each other.  The love that existed between them in that line was greater than anything that was about to take place.


I thought it strange that the government inspector was standing with his back to all of the proceedings going on within the main building.  He stood with his clipboard in hand in the doorway of the large building, looking out into the beautiful Fall sunshine, chatting away with another man as though nothing at all was going on.  The processing line continued, one after another, after another, after another, and as our pigs made it to the end of the processing line, were taken off and carted to the cooler.  At that moment, from what I took to be the employees lunch room or office came barreling out of the door with a festival like atmosphere about him, a man with a robust attitude as though he were at a carnival and not the killing floor of a slaughterhouse.  He was wielding a rod of steel in one hand with an outstretched arm, and in the other hand, a butchers knife.  He was not hard to notice as he came out of the office area with this air, vigorously clinking the knife from one side of his steel to the other in a brandishing manner.  He had a tight kerchief covering his head and tied at the back with bare skin hardly visible with tattoos that went all the way up the sides of his neck.  If I'd been unaware of my soul watching the performances going on inside that building and had only the physical to carry me through, I might have run for cover.   As I approached him his demeanor changed and I spoke with him as to which pigs were mine and what colored tags to put on each one.  As I was speaking with this man the performance ceased.  He was not the only one whose soul was being suppressed to carry out their job that day.  There was the inspector with his back to the reality of what was going on, the man at the main table whose back and knees seemed it would go out at any moment and who wore the pain on his face.  There were the ones whose denial was written all over their faces in a fake sun shiny smile, and there were the angry ones that you didn't more than glance at to know that there were no words or gestures to comfort any part of them, just a quiet, silent acknowledgement that they existed.








October 19, 2021 / Rings and things


I had tried my hand at many things and was intrigued when I saw the stones with holes in them, fashioned into vases and lamps.  My stone making, vase making partner and I decided to take our craft to a market.  I'd seen the man several times at his station with the rings and things, set up further down the hall from our station but this particular day he was in the space next to us.  It was lunch time and there was a lull in the crowd going by and for some reason I decided to go take a look at this man's wares.  


I approached his display of rings and things and he nodded my presence, and as I was looking over his beautifully displayed works a ring jumped out at me.  In my world, when something jumps out at you it is asking for attention, this time, an exquisitely crafted ring.  I continued my gaze toward the other rings but the energy of that particular ring wouldn't let me look further.  Then it started, just like all the other times but this time in a busy market in front of a complete stranger!  "I carry rainbow warrior tree medicine," I said, still looking down as though talking to the rings and not to him but he was listening intently.  "There is one particular ring that wants you to hold it in your hand," I said.  He was still looking and listening intently at me as I was commentating and studying his rings.  Customers came to look at his display and I moved to the side but Spirit was in fully swing speaking through me.  In a low commentary I continued speaking as he tried to attend to his newly arrived customers and listening to me at the same time.  His attention was now directed at his customers but he was listening and watching me out of the corner of his eye.  The customers quickly continued onto the next station and I resumed my place at the center of his display and continued speaking what Spirit wanted to reveal to him.  


I asked if he would take the ring that was calling to him into the palm of his hand.  He hesitated, but just for a slight moment and then with a questioning curious look on his face while still studying mine, he took the ring and held it in his palm.  The energy started emanating from the ring as I spoke to him what was going to happen.  "You are going to feel something moving up your arm," I said as his eyes got bigger with the realization that something was indeed moving up his arm.  "I feel it," he said.  "Now it is at your elbow," I said, and now he and I were both in the energy of the medicine and the energy continued up his arm and to his shoulder and into the area of his back that needed attention.  We continued in this way, in the front of his station and curiously no one approached his display.  Spirit continued to speak to him through me, revealing insights into his own life all from the energy of that particular ring.  "That's incredible what you did," he said, and added, "I knew something special was going to happen to me today."  



October 17, 2021 / The biker


Sometimes you have a dream that is so real that you think you were actually there, in the dream, and then you wake up and you can remember even the tiniest details.  This particular night's dream left me with more questions than answers.  I'd dreamt that the mahatma, disguised as a gigantic spider, except I could clearly tell that it was still the mahatma, was threatening to come get me.  He was a long ways off  but he was focused on me and I couldn't get my eyes off him.  Why was the mahatma, all gangly looking with long spidery legs, focused on me?  Why was I feeling threatened that he was coming to get me?  


I was trying to light a fire in a stove on the homestead where my Mother grew up and I was having a very difficult time.  You know those dreams where you're trying to do something and the frustration of not being able to do it?  The threat of the mahatma spider was very real and terrifying to me in that dream and he was moving from that great distance where I first saw him and he was headed my way!  It seemed imperative that I get that fire lit but no matter what I did I could not and that spider man was approaching now with speed.  I fumbled with matches that wouldn't work, I had too much in my hands, and I had a child in my arms.  I couldn't manuver lighting a fire and the distance between that gangly terrifying looking mahatma spider was getting increasingly smaller and smaller and the smaller the distance the greater the speed until I knew that if I didn't get that fire lit I'd be a gonner!  Then, at the very last second before he reached me, with a stick in my hand and a white cloth on the end I got it lit and the threatening gangly gigantic spider man disappeared!  


At that moment of vanishing I went in the house but outside the house I witnessed myself, two of me, both falling from the sky and on impact one went all the way into the earth and was not seen again and the other me went half way into the earth and stopped; one of the me's disappeared forever and the other one was here to stay.


It was a hot Summer day and my Mom's grass needed cutting.  We went to mow it for the clippings that we would bag and take to our farm; a good natural additive for our garden.  My partner went on ahead with the bags of clippings in the back of his truck and I came behind, a little later.  My children wanted to sit in the very back seats of the van that day for whatever reason and I was hot and tired from the afternoon of mowing and so without fussing over where they sat we headed home with them busily chattering away in the back seat.  


As we were nearing the crest of a hill I noticed ahead of me a motorcycle approaching a stop sign from a side street.   I anticipated him stopping and I would drive by.  He hesitated, only momentarily, but did not stop at the sign.  I was going normal speed  and was almost to where I had anticipated him stopping but at that point he attempted to sail out in front of me.  His motorcycle jerked and jumped and it was not a graceful manuver so I quickly slowed to allow him to make the adjustment and now he had managed to make it out in front of me.  I was waiting for him to shift and gain speed so I could regain my normal speed but instead he was swerving and looking down and didn't seem in control of his bike at all.  I gasped out loud as one of his swerves was directly toward a car and then he quickly brought it back to his side of the road.  He was still all over the road and he hadn't managed to make it shift into a higher gear and his head was looking down instead of up.  Then he found a gear and the motorcycle lurched forward and he was gaining speed.  I was so nervous at this point watching the antics of this man on this motorcycle so intensely that I barely knew I was driving myself.  


I wondered how long it was going to take him to gain control of the motorcycle, stop swerving all over the road, pick up speed and smooth things out but it was not looking promising.  After almost hitting the second car my whole being was now intently watching his every move and I slowed and allowed some distance between us.  


Then it happened, it was like an explosion.   I wasn't expecting it because I was still hoping and rooting for this man to find his difficulties and get that motorcycle riding along the road like any other.  It was like being in a dream when his body and motorcycle hit the oncoming car and the sound of it was a big bang and I saw his body and motorcycle go flying into the air.  I burst out loud with my reaction to what I was seeing and quickly pulled my van to the side of the road.  I put on my four-way flashers, grabbed my phone, and instructed my children to stay in the van.   I frantically called 911 as I ran as fast as I could to the body and the bike that was now laying in the middle of the road.  Out of the corner of my eye I caught the shocked look of the driver in the car that the biker had just hit and saw that he was able to make it to the side of the road and stop.  


All my energy, my focus, my instincts, went to the motionless man lying in the middle of the road.  His bike was laying just a few feet from him and fluids were starting to leak from it.  He was lying on his side with his back to me but as I was nearing him still I could see the extent of his injuries.  I stopped at the shock of it and then continued toward him.  I knelt down on the pavement and put my hand on his back and  said, "it's okay, I'm here, you're going to be okay."  I didn't know how he could be but I had hope too that he could hold on long enough for help to arrive.  "Can you hear me?" I asked him.  I could see a faint rise and fall of his chest but didn't know how, with the extent of his injuries, he could still be breathing, and then he moved his head.  On that hot July afternoon pavement he moved his head in response to my voice the only way he could, slowly, like every millisecond of moving his head counted.  He moved it up and down and so I continued to speak to him telling him he was going to be okay and that I was right there. I could feel the love and warmth of something greater than the situation we were in.  


By this time I had 911 on the line and was telling them what was going on.  I could see in one direction approaching cars and motioned to a bystander, "run up there as fast as you can and stop those cars."  He hesitated for a moment, "we have to get those cars stopped, I said, and he ran and was able to get the cars stopped a fair distance from where we were.  The vehicles behind us were stopped by my van with the flashing lights and the accident scene, there was no way by, we were taking up the entire road.  The fluids from the damaged motorcycle were approaching us and the man's face would be the first point of impact.  I had to get that bike out of there but how?  As I looked up, there was a big strong man staring down at us.  "Can you move that bike?" I asked.  He hesitated, like he didn't dare do anything at an accident scene, like he wasn't supposed to, as though he might jeopardize something.  I asked again, this time in a way that questioned whether or not he was physically capable of moving the motorcycle.  This time he picked it up, easily, and moved it out of the way.  


I spoke to the man laying in front of me with words of encouragement, that I was there with him and that he was going to be okay.  "Are you hanging in there?" I asked, and again, a nod of his head up and down.  Here was this soul, with seeming little left to continue with in the physical, communicating with me.  By this time a crowd had gathered but I was still so intently focused on the man that I didn't realize how many people were there.  I heard shouts of encouragement for him to hang in there and that he could do it and that they were rooting for him.  One person from the crowd, seeing the extent of his injuries, brought blankets to cover him.  Gratitude well up inside of me and poured out to this person for having the compassion to see the situation and responding with decency and respect for the condition he was in.   


At that point I remembered the people in the other car.  I had forgotten about them.  I didn't know if they were okay or not, this man and I were absorbed in fighting for his own life and it was like nothing else existed.  It seemed like a long time there in the road with the biker but I knew rescue vehicles were on their way and could hear the sound of the sirens now in the distance.  I was becoming more aware of the goings on around me and knew that very soon there would be people arriving to help.  "There are people coming to help you," I said to him.  "They're coming to take care of you and you are going to be in good hands," I said, and I continued to rub his back and speak with him so he knew I was still there.  "I'm going to be leaving soon but I am leaving you in good hands and I won't leave until they get here,"  I said.  Again he understood and nodded in acknowledgement.  Then in an instant, from somewhere in the distance, a long ways off, I heard him call her name and somewhere inside me I knew he was on his way to God.




October 14, 2021 / Mom's secret


I had asked her to pray with me about something, "come in here," she said.  My Mom wasn't about to join hands with me and pray out in the open or in front of people or in an area where someone might appear or that we might be overheard.  When we engaged in this way she would always want to go to a room with a door.  "Will you pray with me?" I asked.  It was as if she'd been doing this all her life.  "I see his face," she said.  "Who's face?" I asked.  As I asked her to describe the face and as she did I asked, "is it Jesus?"   She shrugged her shoulders.  To me there was no denying it because of the way she described him.  The aura of light around his head, the way she was taking her hands and showing me how soft and beautiful his face was, describing his lips, his cheek bones, the awe and wonder she was expressing and lost in a sublime blissful state, I though it had to be him.  When we'd finished praying I was in awe that my Mom was able to have these clear visions as naturally as walking down the street.  "Have you always been able to do this Mom?" I asked.  It blew me away that she could do this so easily and I wondered why she wasn't doing this full time and she replied, "I didn't think it was a big deal."  I pressed her on it because I knew how many people she could help if it was known and she replied, "we'll just keep this between us."


My Mom was open to praying with me anytime I asked, if  we were able to do it in a secret spot.  On this one particular day I asked Mom if she would pray with me for a dear friend.  She  had tragically taken her own life and I felt a heaviness about her spirit that I couldn't understand.  Her partner had called me to tell me the devastating news and she was also feeling the disconnectedness of her departed partner and herself.  They had had that special kind of relationship that their acute intuitiveness could tell if something was wrong with the other; even when they lived with an ocean between them.  "I can't find her spirit," her partner said, "I can't find it and it's troubling me."  I knew what she meant because I couldn't find it either.  When something happens in the physical and I connect to the spirit I can fell the energy of that spirit.  This time neither of us could and it was bothering us very much. 

 

I explained the situation to my Mom and asked if she would pray with me to try to find out why I was having this deeply troubling feeling.  As we went to one of the back rooms and joined hands and called for Yeshua to help us understand why I was having a hard time connecting to my friends spirit, we could feel a very heavy troubled energy.  Yeshua instructed us to pour all of our love out to my dear departed friend and so we joined hands and poured our love out to her.  "She's still in her body," I said.  "Mom, do you feel that?" I  asked.  She nodded her head in agreement, she too was feeling the same thing, that her soul was still in her body.  Because of the traumatic circumstances of her death she had not been able to release herself and pass to the spirit realm.  Yeshua was explaining this to us and guiding us what to do.  "Keep pouring out all your love to her,"  Yeshua instructed.  We poured out our love again and we became aware that she was responding, as if her spirit was only now waking up to what had happened.  As her awareness of what had happened became greater and greater she saw where she was and both my Mom and I could feel her starting to stir.  We were instructed to keep pouring our love into her and as my dear friend became more and more aware of where she was, she began to rise.  "Mom, she can feel the love," I said and we could feel she was responding to the love we were pouring into her.  The continued pouring out of love  from me and my Mom to my dear friend was enabling her to become more and more aware of what had happened and where she was.  She continued to rise and as she rose more and more we could tell she would soon be out of our hands and into the hands of the spirit world.  My Mom and I checked in with each other.  "She's gone isn't she?"  I asked.  My Mom nodded her head in agreement, "yes," she said, "she's passed over."  It was one of the most incredible healings I have ever been part of; maybe  it was because I was in the company of two incredible healers.



October 11, 2021 / The Inner force


Sometimes in life things happen, sometimes many things beyond our seeming control, and sometimes they can happen so quickly that we seem to get swept along with them.  Sometimes they can carry us to a place and deposit us on the other side of them.  As we sit there on the other side of the happenings we try to make sense of all the things that are now somewhere behind us.  Then as life goes along and we try to cope with the present with the past still not sorted in our minds, things can feel like a big, jumbled, mess.  Sometimes we can sort it out, if we have the tools to do it, and, sometimes, we can't.  There are times in the 'going along with life' that this 'mess' will press a person to be sorted.  Some responses to the mess might be, "leave me alone" "go away" "not right now, later" "I will when I get some downtime" "sometime I'll take time to deal with this."  The 'mess' is patient and waits and waits for a break in the hectic and again asks for attention and the response is usually the same.  Sometimes the 'mess' makes people angry because it won't go away.  Sometimes it makes people agitated because they thought it went away but it is still there.  Sometimes it gives people anxiety because they thought it went away but while they were trying to relax it came barreling out from behind and announced that it was still present.  Sometimes it causes great stress and an abundance of fear because some people can feel it following them.  


She said it felt like a dark cloud that she could feel coming from up overhead and she could feel the doom and gloom of it.  She knew beyond a doubt that it would consume her if she did not take her medication.  She was afraid for her life if she did not have the medication to get her through these times.  "That tree over there,"  I pointed to her to look halfway up the hill.  "It's calling to you, do you want to go see what it has to say?"  She smiled, it was one of those smiles that lights up the whole world and it was also a knowing smile.  The medicine was starting up, as it did when there was a healing about to happen and sometimes it happened like this, right out of the blue.  One minute we were pitch forking seaweed and the next, a tree comes into view calling out for us to come.   


Halfway up the hill we went and I was guided to the middle of a group of trees.  I placed my hands on the ones out in front of me and the words started.  "Come over here and stand, looking this way, they want you to put your hands here and close your eyes and imagine being totally protected and looked after."  I had no idea what this was about but I knew it was about her and I knew there was a gift about to be revealed.  She was perfectly willing and excited to be in the company of the trees and the healing energies.  As the healing started to unfold I could tell she was not a stranger to mystical energies, she was not afraid and was willing to allow the energy of the trees to come to her.  As soon as she felt the first small wave of energy she was elated and in awe and was willing to keep going to see where it would lead.  


The dark energies she had spoken of were coming, she could feel them overhead and they were coming to take her over.  But the tree energy had something different in store for her; they were going to move her through it.  They were going to show her how to overcome the dark forces that she hadn't been able to fight on her own.  Now the trees had taken over my words and I was speaking to her for them; showing and guiding what was going to happen before it did so she was prepared for when the darkness seemed too dark.  It was coming from above as she said it did and now the energy from the trees were showing her what to do with her arms, her mind, how to think, what to say, where to draw her energy from to fight it.  They were showing her how to maneuver, how to stand in her own power and not to allow this dark force to move her from it.  And now the black was right above her head, and now it was moving down over her, and she was standing her ground, and she was moving through it and not breaking down.  The black was turning to gray and then to a pale gray and now she was smiling and feeling her powerful self and feeling that she was more powerful than it.  As it was moving down over her and she was standing her ground it was getting  paler and paler, and then it was gone.  "Unbelievable," she said, "that was incredible."  We spoke about the experience and that when and if the darkness were to come again, she would know what to do.



October 7, 2021 / Healing hands and words


It was automatic; my hands just seemed to know where to be placed and the words just came out, describing what was about to take place.  The guys back was in bad shape, he'd been in pain for days, excruciating pain, and the painkillers he was taking weren't working.  A doctors visit and tests revealed that he had bulging discs and he left the doctor's office with some good strong painkillers and advice that time would fix it. 

 

A couple of weeks had passed; there's something about constant pain, it's exhausting, and debilitating, and time  passes oh-so-slow.  Something was pushing me to help, to speed the healing and alleviate the pain.  Being a friend, and experiencing a healing from me before, he asked if I would heal his back.  I'd done only emotional healing to that point and I was hesitant; he was confident I could help, I was not.  As soon as I agreed it started, my hands automatically knew where to go, what to do, and the words just spilled out describing what was happening inside.  Up one side, bringing good energy in, down the other side, releasing the bad.  Forth five minutes passed like seconds, me, totally immersed in the healing energy and guided by a force that I knew from a long time ago.  When the energies subsided and I knew the healing was complete I spoke that he could get up, that I was finished, but he didn't respond.  He had fallen asleep.  I left and he told me later that he had slept for hours afterward and felt a lot better when he woke.  He continued to improve and healed completely in half the normal time.



October 5, 2021 / Cognito


My record keeping and organizational skills enabled me to hardly ever be out of work.  This particular instance was a store and cafe, a lovely little nook on the outskirts of the city.  They needed someone to organize and to put some systems in place so things could run smoothly and they were already in full swing.  Almost instinctively the forgiveness mantra (my description for it but the original masterpiece can be viewed here: https://honest2goodness.org.uk/True_Forgiveness_exercise.htm ) started.  I did not know why I had been called to this particular location  but there was a job to do and I had accepted it and so I started.  During this time I became very aware that the forgiveness mantra was appearing more and more frequent and it would stay for longer periods of time.  Sometimes the energies would become so intense that the moments seemed like they would never end.  There was something being healed there in that space and I knew I had to stay with it and work at the same time.  At times Spirit would have me on such a high frequency that I felt like if anyone had taken a picture  it would have shown me simply staring at my work.  


It was a busy day in the store with lots of people coming and going so full staff was on and there was much hustle and bustle all about me.  There was deep concern in her voice when I overheard it, "I have a lump and they want me to have a mammogram," she said.  I looked with concern in  her direction and she looked back acknowledging me.  Right away there was something inside me that wanted to help and I knew that feeling very well.  How does a record keeper, working at a computer and filing systems and hired for organizational duties within a business now launch into a healing in the middle of one of the busiest days of the week with all available spaces taken?  


At that moment there was a lull and I gathered all of my courage and walked over to her and asked if she would like to receive healing for her lump.  She looked at me and didn't answer, just silence, but her eyes spoke to me and I knew she had heard my question.  She was a deeply intuitive person and she knew the depth of my asking almost at once.  She agreed and we stepped into the tiny area with the curtain and I called for Yeshua in my usual way.  Yeshua guided my hands to the point on her back where I was to direct the energy and the healing took place right there.  As the energies subsided I told her I was finished and as she slowly turned around to look at me the look on her face told me she knew she had been in the presence of something very powerful.  There was a deep silence and knowing between us.  "Thank you," she said.  


We went back to work in our usual fashion and a little later she asked, "should I go for the mammogram?"  Inside me I could feel a great welling up of energy at the mention of the word and I answered, "no, there is no need."  She was having doubt about the mammogram and was apprehensive about going to get it.  There was no more mention of what happened that day until about a week later I heard her answer to someone on the phone, "no, I didn't get the results back yet but I know it's going to be okay."  She must have been pressed by the caller because she repeated, "I just know."



October 3, 2021 / Heal hands and words

Spirit is prompting me to continue writing so I will write as these promptings come (which seem to be more than one a week).


It started out as any normal emotional healing session does; talking about how she was feeling, the energies (doing what they'd come to do, transform) high, and, as always,  gifts bestowed as the healing session unfolded.  Sometimes there were tears, sometimes gasps or ah ha moments as answers to questions were being revealed.  As the session ended and I was gratefully accepting an offer of a cup of tea something else happened, quite casually, as we were speaking of everyday life.  She had this nudge to mention something that was bothering her, a physical ailment.  It was something that, although she'd mentioned it to several doctors, none seemed to think it was a serious issue.  She knew it was, and her failed attempts to get her doctors to recognize her concern about it did not convince her own intuition that it did not need to be addressed.

 

As our casual conversation continued something happened.  "It's starting," I said, "something's happening."  I could feel my hands and the energy and the words start back up.  Surprised, and knowing the initial session had seemingly ended (and not being aware that a physical ailment would be part of the session), I wasn't sure what the sudden start up in energy was all about.  She came and sat down on a stool in front of me wondering what was going on.  "Yeshua," I said, "is that you?"  "I think it's Yeshua," I said.   At that instant my hands went to her upper leg, "that's where the lump is," she said.  I did not know she had a lump in her leg but she was very concerned that it had been there for far longer than she was comfortable with.  The pink, then deep purple, them crimson billowy clouds appeared (as they often do when angelic presences arrive during healing sessions) and the energy became intense.  "It's getting warm, really warm," she said.  "What is?" I asked.  "My leg, where the lump is," she said.  "Yeshua is here," I said, "he's healing it for you."  The words started and the angelic energies spilled into our space and she could feel the heat of the healing of the lump.  It surprised us both and the energies got so intense we weren't sure where next they might take us, they were that strong.  Yeshua's words came through, "angelic energies are going to heal this for you."  The energies were coming through my hands and words faster than I could physically comprehend.  I left the awareness of physically sitting in a chair in front of her and became completely engulfed in the intensity of the now deeply crimson billowing clouds of angelic energy.  The waves of color were pouring into the spot on her leg where the lump was.


A few days later I received an excited and grateful message to say that the lump had noticeably decreased in size.  Another few days passed and  I received another message to say that the lump had decreased in size again.



October 1, 2021 / My Near Life Experience  

 

I can only describe it as being in a dark, cold, empty tunnel and light is nowhere to be seen.  Then, from way off in a distance comes the most indescribable band of warm, bright, colorful energy stretching farther than the eye can see.  It comes and surrounds you and brings you to the most aliveness and greatest love you have ever known possible.  This indescribable love  went far beyond all the earthly things I had come to know and dearly love as my life;  my little daughters, cherished and loved beyond imagining, my beautiful comfortable home, and the people and adventures . When that instant arrived  had I been asked to leave and go with it, it would have been very difficult to make the decision to stay.  

                                                                             

My journey to the surface had begun; I was as far down as I could go, rock bottom some called it, but as I began to climb to the surface, helpers arrived.  This aliveness that had engulfed me in the colorful energy wave gave me the will to fight to climb up.  Through the layers that had been piled high on top of me by the con (I will explain the con in another journal entry) I climbed.  The con would bring fear and send its own troops to try to convince me that the direction I was taking was the wrong one.  The con had many allies; guilt came in droves, shame wasn't far behind, and fear was always present. 

 

As I started making my way up a very powerful ally joined me, love.  Love's army was more powerful than the cons army and the more connected I became to it the bigger it got.  Joy came, incredible joy that made way for gratitude and with it the indescribable presence of freedom.  The normal activities that I had enjoyed under cons watch were now more alive, different.  I was more in control of them now and as I took my normal walking route up the dirt road I noticed something strange about the trees.  Certain ones looked like they were standing upside down and they seemed to be trying to tell me something.  Were they trying to get my attention?  I noticed them, couldn't help but notice them; why were they seemingly upside down and yet others looked quite normally right side up?  They were expressing themselves and asking me to do the same and showing me what areas of my life needed work.  I was waking back up to the guidance of the trees, teachings that had started a long time ago, a forgotten memory of a time when a little girl sat among the trees sailing her leaf boats down a brook.

                                 


        





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