what a ridiculous personification this manifesting holographic thing is

saving cremation service sites? she has been very busy trying to make it easier on her sons but she is actually in full recognition that she knows they dont need to do that so she will do it anyway.

and making videos? what is she up to?

she seems to enjoy it.


she is preparing.

This is all Just a Silly Dream

The Old Man finds his Home....a story about real Love.................

The Old Man had decided to return to the village where he was born. It was time.
He had been gone for so long, decades, and had left as a young man.
He smiled as he sat on the bus that was bringing him back to his home,to his children, to his grandchildren.

He smiled with the smile of someone who knew far too much for anyone. He had plans, after all, plans that were a secret.Plans that no one in his family waiting for him could even begin to imagine.

He held his backpack close to his chest as he stared out the window of the bus. The rolling waves of telephone lines and grassy fields went by in a blur , the smells of humid soil he had long forgotten, and he knew he was smelling his old home. It wouldn't be long now. his daughter and her family were waiting for him at their house.

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The family owned a small home, enough to accomodate 3 children, 2 parents, and a very lazy dog whose presence resembled that  of a rug most of the day. An easy family, loud and unassuming, they were proud of their achievements and the mere fact that they owned a home. It was their dream, and the young couple patted each other every chance they could get, whether through a look or an actual pat, it did not matter. They had created their dream, and their children played happily within that dream. The idea that their dream would end never occurred to them, because as with all young people, dreams they think they accomplished do not end.

This was , however, an important day. Grandpa was coming back to stay. Not just stay, but to live with them, in a small room they had built onto the house.

The father was pounding his chest silently with pride, his carpentry was a work of art, at least in his mind. The room was small, but mother had made sure, made certain, that Grandpa's old desk and chair were there, and Grandpa's old bed, with a new mattress. Mother was smoothing the sheets and coverlet when one of the boy children ran into the room.

"This room smells old!" he declared.

"Well.." said the mother "It has many old things in it. Look, over there. That's Grandpa's desk. Go on over there. Put your nose inside it."

The boy child hesitated, then walked over with the brave stride of the ninja, his light sabre still held tightly in his hand...the desk was dangerous territory..

he opened the rolltop and whiffed loudly...

"Momma! it smells OLD!"

He waved at the  evil oldness  with his sabre and ran out of the room. There were more important things to do then smell the desk of an old old man.

The mother laughed. She closed her eyes and thought of her father, so close now, arriving any minute, really. She remembered him as he laughed, his booming voice as she sat on his lap and he showed her his silly drawings he made. The desk was the smell of him, the tobacco, the oaken wood, even the lead of the pencil he would write with.

This would be a good day. Her father was finally coming home. She felt like she was 6 years old again. She so hoped he would be happy now, living with her and her husband , and the children.It had been so long...since he had seen happiness. Yes, she thought firmly, we will make him happy again!


========================================================================

The bus had kicked up it's last breath of stony road. It sat humming as the driver carefully unloaded packages and luggage and bins of whatnots from beneath the belly of it's ageing carcass. The old man had fallen asleep and rubbed his eyes when he realized he had finally reached his destination.

"That would be 3 days, 2 in a crowded airplane and one on a bus" he figured.

He removed the letter from his pocket, from his daughter, and read it.

"Dear Daddy! John and I have decided we want you to live with us! the children are so happy! You must! You must get over all of this, get over it all, you cannot keep holding all of those feelings, I KNOW you will be happy here! You cannot keep being sad, I just will not allow it! You moved away and left us all and have been gone far too long!  Just stop! Come live with us John has built you your own room and I have all your things in there! You have to stop thinking about the past dad!!! Anyway, John and I want you to know your grandchildren better!! We still need you, dad!!"

The old man sighed. He put the letter back in his pocket. He had read it a thousand times, he knew it by heart. He kept referring to it to justify, to remind himself that perhaps his daughter was correct. Perhaps she knew something he did not know.. Perhaps he could live with them and forget it all, what he needed not to think of, what he needed to bury. Perhaps the sound of lively children would bring him home, whatever home was, and perhaps this was now home. He had been away for many years.

========================================================================
He stepped off the bus, and the Midwestern sunshine of August warmed his face. He heard a voice call his name . He turned, and saw a man waving to him, a man he did not recognize at first. Then he remembered. That is my daughter's husband. The old man smiled, he was tired. He smiled with the recognition that this might, just might, be home. ...............home..........
========================================================================

The drive was not long, but the old man did not recognize his town. "My town" his thought laughed "my town" as though he somehow owned it . No, it had changed, but that did not bother him. He expected it, he was a master of change, and more change. He had embraced 'change' long ago, it was his friend now, and did not bother him in the least. He was always amused when he watched the young people encounter 'change' and also a little saddened for them when they balked at it. "Oh, well. they will learn." he would tell himself. Then, he would laugh at his own ill-begotten wisdom. "I guess I am an old man!" he would laugh again. It came out as a half chuckle.

"Hey, what was that? You glad to be Home? I heard you laugh!" the son in law spoke....

The old man noticed that his son in law wanted to talk. Lively fellow. Around 35. Had his hair nipped short, the old man noticed. Liked things clean. The car was clean. smelled like it had just been waxed. The old man buttoned his own open shirt collar. Might as well shape up.
"Just glad to be home." the old man accomodated his frisky son in law.
10 minutes, just 10 minutes to 'home', thought the old man, as his son in law made conversation. One way.

"Yeah, boy oh boy the kids can't wait to see you..I know you saw them when they were born...but boy have they grown!! Josh is 10 now! 10! Can you believe it!!? and Sarah is 8! She is such a little princess, but she sure has your eyes! and then there is Camden. You know, I hated that name at first but your daughter loved it so I said Okay I'll go along with it. We call him Cam, he is 6  now,,....gosh it's gonna be great the kids have a big big surprise in store for you just you wait! And that room you have..well, listen don't you worry about a thing I made sure it was well insulated! You won't hear those kids or  the lawnmower...I like a neat lawn....Nothing worse than a messy lawn to me.....hah...I like to keep busy, when I'm not at work, and you do know I'm still teaching math at the middle school, right? I sure do have my hands full, and so does your daughter, let me tell you she is so busy with the kids and she works part time at the Farmer's Market but you already know that, right? She wrote you, she said, and look , there's our street, sure has changed, sure has changed, we have a 7-11 now one block away and that comes in handy let me tell you, but well, anyway, we sure are glad to have you here ..dad...I  feel like I can call you dad now, since my dad died, well, I sure could use a dad, and boy oh boy those kids sure need a grandpa! well, here we are!!"

The old man fumbled in his vest pocket as his son in law drove the car into a very neat and tidy driveway. "Here we are!" the son in law exclaimed loudly enough for the rest of the family to hear as he exited the vehicle.

The old man popped a 0.5 mg Xanax under his tongue. no one saw.

He was 'home'. home......
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The old man stepped out of the vehicle onto the asphalt driveway. He felt a bit wrinkled as he stared at the bright house, a bit frumpy as he fumbled with his worn backpack . This didn't feel right, he watched as his son in law , hands in the air clapping hurriedly for the rest of the family to announce their arrival. There was no red carpet, but a row of arrogant daisies standing like soldiers greeted him as he walked up the perfect sidewalk.  When the door to the home opened, he was glad he had taken the Xanax.

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"Daddy!!!!" shouted a young woman, dressed in a party frock...or was it a party dress? A dark haired young woman of about 33 years of age ran, stopped, clasped her hands to her chest in a slow motion pause, then her arms opened wide as she ran, and jumped straight at the old man as he stood there, still reeling from his bus ride and the long winded heartfelt verbiage of his son in law.

"Daddy!!" the old man felt  her arms around his neck now, kisses on his cheeks, her eyes were dark, she reminded him of something he felt once, many years ago.

He smiled. Yes, this was her. He remembered her. She had sat on his lap and he would sing to her.."knick knack paddywhack give the dog a bone, this old man came rolling home..."

The next lot were the children. They stood in the doorway, the 3 of them, watching their mother as she held the old man closely as their father laughed and bent down to retrieve the backpack the old man had dropped .

The oldest child nudged the 8 yr old. "That's our grandpa."

The 8 yr old shrugged. "I know, stupid."

The 6 yr old picked his nose. Then he ran to his mother. "Pick me up!"

As the old man was being hugged, he looked down at the littlest child and spoke to his daughter.

"Say, now who is that? Is that Cam? I'll bet that's Cam."

The mother let go of her daddy and picked up her youngest child.

"Cam! this is your grandpa! Give him a kiss!"

The small child hid his head in his mother's neck and whispered.
'no.'

"It's okay , Cam. You don't  have to kiss me. It's nice to meet you, Cam. And.." the Old Man waved to the other children.."It's nice to see all of you. Sarah, hello. Josh, hello. "

The children in the doorway waved back, somewhat , and settled onto the porch swing, to text their friends. "omg our grandpa is here he is going to live with us now gotta go so weird "......

================================================================

Dinner was always at 7 pm. Mother usually made the dinner, but Dad did , too. He liked to explain to the children, who weren't listening, how his own mother had always cut the ends off the sandwiches he ate as a child.

The Old Man had been shown his new room, which smelled of cedar, and a nice pine. He liked the smell. It reminded him of his childhood, and he closed his eyes and remembered walking through a forest after it rained, and the day he found a mushroom and brought it home and his mother told him it was a morel mushroom. She cooked it for him and he had never tasted anything quite so wonderful.

When he opened his eyes he was sitting on what had once been the bed he and his wife had shared.
He stared, then ran his finger across the rivelet of wooden beads that ran across the top of the headboard.

Yep. same bed. It had been polished. He remembered when it was dusty.

He also noticed his old desk had been brought out of storage. Where had they stored it? He wondered.

His daughter knocked a hesitant knock on the half open doorway to his new and improved room.

"Dad? Hi, hey! what do you think!! I put the desk in here! wow, we had 3 guys we know help us move it! I had it redone, tho....all the stains are gone..you know, the tobacco..ugh..all gone now, tho! of course, you can sort of still smell it..I left some FeBreze behind the desk in case ...I mean, in case..but, really..."his daughter sat down next to him...and took his hand..'Dad. This is Home now. You are Home.'

she smiled, and patted his right hand..

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He unpacked his backpack. 4 shirts, 3 pairs of trousers, underwear, and a box of pictures. wallet. pocketknife. toothbrush . sundry items.
He didn't own much. Not anymore. What was the point? He was 65, he had already done what all men do, he went to school, grew up, got married, had children, owned a home, became a widower...he had children.

He looked for his bottle of Xanax and took another one. "One for the road" he thought. "Just to get through dinner ".
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A flurry of activity followed.

Dinner would be outside, on the patio.

"Why do we have to eat outside???" the old man heard one child..which one was it, he amusedly wondered...they all sounded so similar...the old man decided it must be the 10 yr old...

"I hate eating outside! "

Shhhhhh! The Old Man heard his daughter scuffle towards the ill mannered voice...SHHHHH.."this is a celebration! Grandpa is here and we are going to make this his special day! He is going to love this. When you get old, you will be glad someone is there for you, mark my words, you will wish YOU had a nice dinner outside on the patio with your grandchildren, so , listen young man you will be there and don't you sulk you be nice to your grandpa he won't be alive much longer so behave and be quiet!"

the Old Man sat on the bed and laughed quietly. He wondered if they had already chosen where he would be buried.

He sat holding a smooth, round stone. He held it until it became warm. Perhaps this is my heart, he thought. My heart is this stone, and if I caress it it will come alive. He could feel his pulse as he held the stone tightly in his hand. It was as if the stone had actually begun to have a heartbeat.

"Silly old man" he said silently... tossed the stone onto the bed, and watched it become a stone again.
==================================================================

The dinner .

The Old Man was, of course, seated at the head of the table. His daughter made sure of that. She had attached balloons to his chair, which wavered precariously over the Old Man's head as he eyed the proceedings, all in his honour. He was not untouched, indeed, he was amazed at such a display of affection shown to him from so many who he had not seen for so long.

The lawn was impeccably mowed, even the grasses near the sidewalks were cut as though a barber had clipped them with a straight scissors.

The Old Man, feeling he should say something, complimented his son in law on the perfection of his gardening skills, but immediately regretted it when his son in law began to speak.

"Dad...I can still call you dad, right? I sure do love nature and it's when I am out here in nature that's when I'm about my best...I feed that grass only the best...honey, am I right? yeah. only the best. Heck , even the kids with their skateboards and trampolines and water balloons, well that lawn holds up...and..."

The Old Man half listened to his son in law, to be polite, and shared an occasional word with his daughter who did not sit down so much as she kept getting up to half run to the kitchen to bring him a glass of water, or a pitcher of iced tea, or a bowl of soup, or  a salad that she explained to him she had found on the Food Network, and as he watched them all, including the children who ate hurriedly as though they had never had a day's worth of food in their lives, except for the 6 yr old, who began chucking his bread at the dog's head, which the Old Man found amusing, as the dog didn't seem to mind one bit..

no, the Old Man was taken in by a large vine he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a vine next to the fence behind the garage where a riot of roses beckoned him like a siren on a lonely rock beckoning the sailors to their impending doom.

"Dad? Daddy? You didn't touch your chicken. Dad?"
The Old Man unstartled his thoughts.
"I'm sorry kiddo. Well, I don't eat chicken . The salad was delicious, however."

The Old Man saw his daughter look at her husband. He could feel their glance, like a taut bowstring, as they judged his words.

"Dad, you know, at your age it is important to eat. I broiled the chicken."
"That's right, dad!" the son in law piped in not to miss out on this discussion.."your heart will be fine with broiled chicken! "

The kids stopped texting and eating and looked strangely at the Old Man. They opened their cameras on their phones just in case he had a heart attack right there and then. It would play well on youtube.

"You know.",,said the Old Man.."I sure do appreciate everything, this fine dinner, my lovely room...gosh, what can I say? " he coughed, and the children were very disappointed when the cough was not a full blown cardiac arrest..

"What can I say except , thank you dear.." he looked straight at his daughter...'and you, son! what a lovely yard you have, I am so pleased to sit here in it..I am at a loss for words..." he smiled at his son in law, who smiled back , his arms crossed pleasingly across his chest.

"Yes, this has been a fine party!" remarked the Old Man.

A strange silence. Then, the Old Man pointed towards the Roses on the Vine.

"Say." the old man interrupted as the family sat around him, pleased at his gratitude.
"Say, where did that beautiful old vine come from? That is remarkable. I believe that is called a Seven Sister Rose..."

The Old Man turned and realized his daughter had just brought him a bowl of ice cream. He picked up his spoon.

"Oh. That." his son in law sat down, and pulled up a lawn chair next to the old man. Suddenly, his son in law, not known for whispering, actually whispered.

"That thing. That old vine. Well, it belongs to that OLD woman."

The Old Man ate his ice cream.

"THAT Old woman." his daughter chimed in, as she slapped away a mosquito. "That woman, the crazy one. "

The Old Man ate his ice cream. It was quite delicious by now.

"Dad? well. we won't let the kids go over there. The neighbours think she might be mentally ill, who knows. It's nothing you should concern yourself with. Dad? Dad, you want more ice cream?"

"Yes, please." the Old Man smiled.

The oldest child stopped punching his sister .

"Dad," his daughter sat down, forgetting about the ice cream.."I promise you , you will love this neighbourhood. There is a senior centre down the road..only a few blocks. They have dances! Or, of course, if you want to write again..remember those silly stories you told me as a child? I always thought you should write children's books, dad!! You aren't too old! You can volunteer, I know you like dogs! Dad? Dad? You listening?"

But the Old Man wasn't listening. The Old Man kept smelling those roses..........
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Weeks passed by and the Old Man didn't really notice. At his age a week was a day and a day was a week. Some days he sat inside and watched the sunlight play like childish shadows through venetian blinds in his small room.
Some days he would begin to remember and then jump up and , rather than punch his daughter's beautifully painted walls, he would help his son in law with the yardwork.

He contributed what he could, moneywise, his pension was secure and he felt a sense of ease when he could hand over a month's worth of pay to his children and grandchildren.

Even the grandchildren didn't mind him being there by now, they would ask him to help them with this, or that, and he actually enjoyed the youngest one , who taught him how to fingerpaint and make music with a paper toilet paper roll.
==================================================================

The Old Man took walks.

He walked by the senior centre, and it looked very much to him like a church, so he avoided it, because long ago he had learned to listen to his instincts, and even though his daughter continued to reassure him that the people inside were very nice, he just knew he would never go into that building.

There was only one house, however, he was intrigued by. Just one.

Oddly enough , it was the one house his daughter, and his son in law, advised him never to tarry! not in front of! or even go near!

It was the house with the roses.

He liked to call it that in his mind. "The Home of Roses". It felt correct, it even felt like a poem, when he walked by it. It was. Familiar. something drew him to it's presence.

One could barely see the house itself, it was not jutting up to the sidewalks like the other homes, but was relaxed, back, behind, hidden like a secret where pear and palm both met, where winding clematis and huckleberry twisted violently in an odd caress, where roses of every sort blasted through and scurried up wooden trellises, where rocks of all sorts peeked out of unpainted windows and butterflies swallowed the very air around the whole place. The Old Man watched, sometimes, as he heard cawcaws of blackbirds and the sorry moan of mourning doves and the keekeekee of cardinals and bluejays and the chitter of squirrels coming from the yard of the old house.

Nary a peep of humanoid was ever seen, but he knew someone lived there.

He knew because he could hear a kettle whistling at night . He would look at his clock.

2 am.

Who does this? Who sings in the middle of the night?

The Old man was becoming more intrigued.

Nonetheless, his family kept him busy. They took him to the park, where he sat on a bench and watched his grandchildren play and he even enjoyed it when they threw their soccer ball at him and told him to catch it.

====================================================================

Months passed by. The Old Man had settled into his room, he was, as he heard his daughter put it (she didn't know he was listening), 'waiting to be with mom, poor thing.'

Actually, he wasn't sure what to think of that. Young people often think they know what's best for those who get old, and they have very self assured presumptions about what old people think.

The Old Man was slightly amused by this, because he knew perfectly well that the young people, most of them anyway, would be old someday and then they would find out.

They are not old at all.

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The sky was a grey blue. That granite colour it gets when the clouds just barely cover the sun  and you know perfectly well the sun is there, but the only ones who can see it are pilots in huge 747s flying over you.  You are on the ground, you can't see it.

The Old Man was bored. The spring had not arrived and the winter had come and gone. He had watched the rosebush next door wondering if it was still alive. Well, of course it was, he said to himself, it is just dormant, as are all things in winter. Sleeping, waiting. Such a long wait.

The children were in school most of the day and the Old Man rarely saw his daughter or son in law, they were busy being parents, busy creating their dreams and desiring their destinies.

The Old Man looked at the rock sitting on his nightstand.

"I wish." he said. He held the rock tightly. "I wish."

He stood up, pulled his trousers on, his rubber boots, and large coat. His white beard, and white hair uncombed and unbrushed, he adjusted his glasses.

He went for a walk.

He walked next door.

He stood for a minute, held his rock tightly in his hand and made his last wish.

He walked, straight and slowly, up the stony moss path to the door of the crazy Old woman.

He knocked. There was no doorbell. As a matter of fact, there was no doorknob.
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The first sense was the chamomile. It was merely a wisp of smoke into his nostrils, but it embraced his brain like a lost memory, suddenly discovered.

He heard some shuffled, sound, no..maybe a tinkling, or a chiming...he could not place it..a hand opened the door. one inch.

The Old Man felt he should speak.

"I am from next door. I was wondering about your roses."

Then, as quickly as the door opened, it closed.

"Oh take as many as you want. " said the voice, laughing.

The Old Man was confused. He mumbled a thank you,

and he left.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next week he made an unpardonable mistake.
The Old Man, whilst eating dinner with his family, casually mentioned that he met the women next door, and that she was very happy to share her roses with them when gardening time began.

He realized his mistake when he heard his daughter drop her spatula on the floor as she was flipping potato pancakes.

"Dad!!!!! you WENT OVER THERE?? "

His son in law was not pleased. But tried to be understanding.

"Look, dad. I know a few police officers who would be more than willing to condemn that house and most of the neighbours....well..she should have been put in a home a long time ago....thats what they all say.."

The Old Man was puzzled "Who are 'they'?"

The son in law whispered.."THEY..the neighbours....ever since..well..."

The Old Man waited..

"ever since her son. Okay. That's it. her son. he died , okay? okay Dad? you happy now?? her son died. He was very young. You happy now?? Now don't tell the kids...they don't need to know!"

The Old Man sat back and put his hands behind his head. This was , well, odd.

"Allright." the Old Man said."Allright, you are telling me this  Old woman next door, her son died? yes?"

"YES!" the son in law wrung his hands like a bedevilled housewife . The Old Man noticed him quiver.

"We didn't want you to know, dad." his daughter stood in the kitchen door. "You don't need to remember things...."

The Old Man just watched them. Dinner was late. The children hadn't been called. He noticed his son in law was reaching for a bottle of cooking wine and pouring it into a plastic sippy cup. The potato pancakes began to burn.

Hmmm. thought the Old Man. Looks like the devil himself has a hold of these two.

The Old Man excused himself . The parents were now arguing in the kitchen and the children had still not come out of their bedrooms.

The Old Man knew what he had to do.

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The next day all was well again. The children were shuttled off to school, annoyed with little things as children often are, and the parents were perky after their 2nd cup of coffee. They did, however, warn the Old Man before they left.

"Dad...dad. Just stay home today. We don't want you to..well...remember..or be put off....or get hurt...just stay home, watch some TV! Hey dad..did you know they show Bonanza reruns all day? Remember you told us you LOVED Bonanza as a kid? Okay..okay dad....there's some mac and cheese in the fridge!!! Love you dad!!!"

and they left. It was easy, It was
simple.

Bye, Bye kids.
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The Old man combed his beard. He brushed his hair. He opened his backpack and pulled out the last of his belongings. It was a small package tied with a blue ribbon.
He carried the rock in his right hand pocket.

He went to the house where the roses were about to bloom.

This time, the smell was chocolate. It grasped him like a gentle caress.

"Hello? Hello?" the man knocked. This time on the window. He tried to see in, but a smoke was in the air inside.

Hello. the voice answered.

"I came to bring you something." the Old Man stated. this time, with an assurance he had not even heard in his own voice, ever.

The voice inside had never heard such an assurance before either. It hesitated, then answered.

"Is this something I need"? she asked. "Because I have everything I need , and I don't need anything else."

"Yes. " the Old Man sighed. "It is something you need. Something I need. Please, open the door, my old friend. Please let me in."

The door slowly opened.

The creak of it was delicious, that gentle groan of an old door that most people use WD40 to fix but this was a beautiful creak, a winding down sound of everything ancient and sacred. The Old Man adjusted his gaze.

Behind the teapot on the woodstove.. stood an Old Woman, and a sight he had never seen......., but suddenly remembered he had seen her a thousand times. In every painting of Venus, in every portrait in every sculpture of Artemis , Athena, Hecate , Diana, Isis, Sophia, in every beautiful image he had seen online of the starsystems of the Hubble telescope he knew this woman better than he knew himself, he knew this Old Woman very well indeed. He had known her forever. He knew her well. His mind balked at such a notion, but he could not stop staring.

Finally, after gratefully few painful moments, she spoke.

"Why are you here?" she asked. She was covered in paint. she had been painting, he realized. She must be an artist.

"Why are you here?" she asked again, this time more softly. She removed her teapot from the stove.

He could see her clearly now, her white hair was wild , it rose like clouds around her head. Her face looked at him as though she was watching him from a place where only angels had the audacity to tread.

He looked down at his shoes. Then he looked straight into her eyes.

"I am here.." he told her. "Because I needed to see you."

He removed his small package with the blue ribbon, and handed it to her.
"I have a picture I want to show you." The Old Man hesitated, he had not shown this picture to anyone. He felt as though time had stopped , that all the clocks in the world had stopped.

She looked at him, perplexed ,yet knowing.

"Show me what is in the package" the Old Woman laughed.

As she held the thin package , the Old Man unwrapped it carefully. It was thin paper, and it softly fell away from what was only a photograph.

The Old Woman sighed, and held the photograph of a young man, around 23 years of age, his face smiling at both of them as though he could see right into their hearts from the picture..

The Old Man spoke:

"That is my son. He was 23 when he died. I needed to give this to you. Please understand."

The Old Woman looked longingly at the photo, and sighed. She looked up at the Old Man, and then, took his hand as a mother leading a baby to learn it's first steps.

"Come. Come with me." she replied.

He followed her, and she carefully walked him into the next room.

The Old Man looked. He rubbed his eyes, he looked again. He was not afraid, but his heart was no longer stone. He could feel the pulse within him like a force, a tsunami of joy, rising with a gladness he had long forgotten.

On the walls of the Old Woman's room hung hundreds of paintings, paintings of angels, paintings of god, paintings of people, paintings of children, paintings of Gaia, Europa , star systems, exploding gems of wonder, and in the midst of the paintings , as the Old Man sat down in the worn chair in the midst of it all, he saw the painting that would change his life.

He saw the painting of the young man in the picture he had been carrying for so many years.

He saw his son, the painting sat squarely in the middle of the room, amidst the cherubim and seraphim, amidst the starry night clouds and cosmos, his son's face beamed with a special light from the framed painting that the Old Woman had created.

"How can..How can.." the Old Man could not speak.

The Old Woman walked up, and knelt beside the Old Man.

"Let me explain. " she said softly, as she touched his shaking hands with hers.

"My son comes to me, he also died...as you call it....but, you have already heard that from your family? That I am insane? Yes, I suppose so. I suppose to say that you speak with your children who no longer inhabit the body and freely live in absolute Joy, boundless Joy, Joy that we cannot even begin to imagine in this place..well, my son comes to me and tells me of it..and many will call that insane..
But, "The Old Woman pointed at the Old Man's son in the painting... "My son showed me this young man, in a dream...he told me, mother, this you must paint....this man....his father needs to know he is with me, and we are dancing in every star....his father needs to know...there is no death........"

The Old Man sat. As though hours or seconds passed, it did not matter.

He knew he was sitting in a miracle, and he had given up on miracles long long ago.

The Old Woman was not moving. She sat at the foot of the Old Man's chair and sighed.

"Perhaps some tea."

Startled at her voice, the Old Man finally looked away from the painting of his son...and looked down at the face of the Old Woman.

It was the same face of Kuan Yin, Tara, the Madonna. He knew this face. It was the face of his childhood.

It was the face of God.

"No. no tea. " said the Old Man.

He stood up and gently helped the Old Woman to her feet.
He pulled her close to him, and felt her heart beat quietly against his .






'At last!'. the Old Man smiled to himself. 'I am Home!'

"Yes." the Old Woman said. "Yes. We have found each other. Our sons made sure of it."

And.........

The roses bloomed quite remarkably that spring.


( and both of Their sons danced around them in Joy, as they always had done, forever and ever and ever and ever....................)

The Universe begins to purge....

with the best of intentions , I asked the Light (call it whatever you want), to help me, as I do every second, especially before bed, to help me help me sleep and please purge the drama and old bullshit from my 'life' in this place.

sooooo...........the Universe threw out my biological sister.

good move, actually.


Now, I am not at all angry with her, it was a great source of amusement at this point to see her create yet another drama...but she stepped over the line, and I had to slap her away like a gnat.

Bye, sister.Love you, but I love marianne most of all.

when we are no longer in this ridiculous play, we will shake hands and thank each other for the roles we played. In the meantime, bye.

Luckily my biological brother has such a magnificent sense of humour that he had me laughing all morning at the whole thing. Thank God for him.

Joey, when is it my turn..awww, come on.....I am so tired of this scenery, the costumes. I don't have any lines anymore. I have to fake it all the time. I get tired of faking for people so I avoid them.

Come on you guys! I can sit in F27 for days and I still can't dump this thing.


enough!

Don't worry about me

My son called me last night....he worries about me

I must look pitiful to him! an old woman, sitting alone, retired, in a house.

Poor old thing.

He feels it is so unfair that I have no one to grow old with.

He feels it is so unfair (and he is unnerved also) that all I talk about is death.

I had to  gently explain to him that all of my presence in this place IS about death.

That death was the script I chose, to know it, to embrace it fully , to understand it.

It bothers him to no end.

"You act like you think about Joey all the time, I can't do that! " he tells me.

"I am still too angry to think about Joey!" he tells me.

Okay, son, I understand. I told him I had to break a few dishes and tell God to go fuck itself for a long time.

sometimes I still do.

"Surely you don't think of Joey 24 hours a day 7 days a week every second of the day??? even when you are with your grandson??"

Yes, son, I think of Joey all the time. there is not a time when I am not thinking of Joey.

I also had to explain to him that he is 35. even if all of these experiences had not occured, I am still 62 in linear time and one embraces the ideas and learns about death anyway.

I explained to him that I wrote this script and it seems to be about learning what death is.


He is not pleased with my words, but at least he is accepting.


He says my other son probably doesnt associate much with me because of my constant talk about death. He says they both don't want to deal with what happened to Joey.

Well, thats okay.

I have to.

I always will. I cannot change to please them.


I love them both as I love Joey. to Infinity and Beyond.

dreams

last night i dreamed i was being loved...as i fell asleep inside THIS dream i asked for them to come and help me , as i am annoyed with self appointed gurus and teachers and their opinions. I asked for them to come, the ones who Joey understands, and they showed me

a crazy wild woman and a beautiful one...and a man was in the dream who looked like Kevin Spacey...why do the symbols come as these guys I do not know..its silly

but the man had to choose the wild woman or the beautiful quiet one..

he chose to love the wild woman.

i was so pleased.

i was deeply appreciated in the dream and wholly loved. I liked the feeling and did not want to wake into this one.

i stayed in it as long as possible, but here i am again in this limited space of consciousness pretending to be a body.


so tired of it. soon,  soon. soon.

...

Waking up in 'the 3 dimensional consciousness' this morning to realize that telling my brain to not think was still 'thinking'. what a waste of time. saw i judged that,too. too much judgement going on.

watched a woman describe her near death experience and her choice to go back. she was vehement about going back to 'try again' even tho her 'body' had been declared legally dead.

this woke me up.

Joey chose to stay. he even came to his brother Bobby and told him, in a lucid dream 'There was no way I was going back there!'

see, it had nothing to do with me all along. My guilt, my assumed responsibility, none of it had to do with me.

Joey chose to stay. he wanted it , wanted it when he told Bobby that his father's hand reached out and told him 'Come on, son.'

so I carry around this guilt and absurd sense of responsibility every day for almost 7 years and suddenly today I realize Joey was his own consciousness in charge of his own choice to stay in this place or go.

I have not heard from him lately, even under the soft tutelage of the voice of Bob Monroe in meditation.

Perhaps this consciousness where I slog is too heavy for him. I dont know.

I do know she is a tired old puppet.

surrender, young lady surrender old girl.

dream about a lamb that asked me not to put it in the oven. everyone else wanted to eat the poor little thing, but i told it i wouldn't eat it or cook it. it was appreciative. 

yet another dream about innocent ones not being slaughtered.

dream within this dream i guess.

little marianne

the little girl called marianne seems to be sucking her thumb in fear today , as another of her children goes into surgery. I am getting to know her, she still fears she will be abandoned by something, and left alone. whenever either of her sons named Bobby and Mike travel or go about their own business, she seems to think she has some form of control over their journeys.

She is especially distraught because she knows very well she has no control ever since Joey decided to stop manifesting as a body.

My goodness, little child. Don't you know by now there is no death? that you have no control over the outcome of anyone in this dream?

I was told to hug her.

I just want her to go away.

OTOH maybe if I hug her, she will  disappear.

so, that is all this is.

say yes to it all.

surrender.

the whole dream is a blink .

no regrets.

no expectations.

laughter.

okay, Joey.

meditation

saw

orange stage shaped like flowing lotus, yellowish lights around it's dome...reaching out with petals....white seed inside glowing...

white tree full of blossoms with young girl sitting under it..blossoms coming down to cover her and fill up the screen.............


hey!! so many symbols.






PUNCH SOME MORE HOLES, PUNCH OUT THE THOUGHTS.

HOW TO COJOIN WITH THIS CONSCIOUSNESS ALL THE TIME WITHOUT THESE TAPES

see it all as symbols.

don't believe what anyone says.

;;;;;;;;;;;;;

why would this apparition call into the script ,a picture of joey on marianne's lap as a baby?

Did not know how hard that would hit this one....

why? to remind her that she is NOT THAT. she is NOT THAT. it exists as her apparition in every state of NON LINEAR time, it still exists but looking at her face she is so clueless...so clueless!!!

her ego is so sure she has it all in control.

poor manifestation. she is so clueless.

why did this one see that one?

to see the real one of the body

the one that lies with her mouth open last breath letting it out. 

to SEE it is nothing at all. nothing.

to SEE the puppet show.

put on the meditation tapes and draw!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! its all this one can do to UNdo seeing that one.

see her as she is, the puppet.

nothing. no thing. de=animate.

Joey to Pablo

I went to the movies this afternoon, and got so early that I decided to go to F12 while I waited. I "decided" to ask whether there was any message to you. This presence I identified as Joe (never saw clearly a face, but when I guessed who he was he didn't disagree) came. First I saw flying saucers - I don't know what they mean, but I hope they mean something to you. Then I asked whether there wasn't anything more specific, in words, and he said - ok, there is one word - the word will be in the movie you'll see. I asked how the hell would I know which specific word, and whether it could be a phrase, or a sentence. He just said "no, it's one word, and you'll know it". I said I felt his presence to be so happy, and he said I should tell you that, that he's very happy. 

Then I came back to C1 and went to see the movie ("Silver Linings Playbook"). In the first scene there was a word written on the wall, so I guessed this should be my (your) word, and, in fact, they keep saying this word in almost every damn scene, it's the main character's motto. It was that obvious after all! The word is Excelsior, which is the Latin for "higher", but it seems it's used in US with the sense of "ever upward". In the movie, the guy was in a deep bipolar crisis, and this was his motto to keep a positive attitude no matter what. I hope this all makes sense to you. 

Pablo's vision.


that very day I went to google and looked up the word Excelsior. I clicked on images. Spaceships. all over the page.

Neither Pablo or I knew that.

Joey knew I would look that up.

meditations and recoil

The other day in meditation, I was shown myself in many aspects. First, I saw a painfilled , grieving woman at the bottom of a shaft of yellowish white light. Yeah I recognized THAT one...around her were dancing lights of many colours..I knew they (Joey , Bob, everyone) were around that symbol with Joy to keep her safe....but then the grieving woman disappeared..she began to travel up the shaft..the light was bigger..

and she changed...into a pair of hands holding, with gentleness, a beautiful ball of white light....it was glowing, and being held very kindly as it went up, up...

and then the hands changed into a weaved basket...a little basket holding a baby....and I saw the baby so happy sitting in the basket, so happy. holding onto it as tho it was taking a balloon ride into the light...and as it went up, up...

it changed again..as the light reached the top of the shaft of itself, there was a lovely, compassionate women, angel, being, looking down at it all with so much love on it's face, as tho it was celebrating and accepting it all as it's own..
and i knew i was all that...connected as one, being shown not to disassociate from any of them. they are all that.

..............................................................

as I lay in meditation the other day I felt myself dreaming yet again..because the question is always...this is a dream...and i felt myself lying in the ground as tho I had been buried, and there was a kind hand above me, it spoke to me as tho attached to a person above me as I lay there and it said "You can continue dreaming this, or not, but remember you are never alone and are just dreaming...you can wake up anytime you want, we are always here..."

The other part of the meditation was to show me a picture of a green island floating in a sea of purple..it was like a painting..the purple sea/sky was behind it...but the island was lush..green..and inside of it was a little buddha figure in a seed..a pod of light...in a peaceful silence...in the ground....just floating inside the island, which was floating in the purple sky...they also said to me' you can paint this if you want'..

then they showed me a hand, a left hand...it had a little bunch of sand in the palm of the hand..it was white sand....and suddenly, the sand became white light..and it emanated out of the hand's palm....


slowly they heal my duality thinking, fears, and desires...slowly they fade..........





--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am noticing i cannot interact with anyone anymore. It is as tho I cannot relate to what it being said. falling into trust with the arms of them, of the source, yes...but the people who I meet within the context of this illusion i cannot be around now, if they appear i see the energy behind their words, not their words.

i hear them so easily make statements about this and that but it is like they are speaking another language..i cannot relate if they take this play seriously. I listen and hear nothing unless i listen to the energy. then i hear the real words.

if i read the words of someone who is called a sage, i can only relate to them if they have had their own child transition out of their bodies. Otherwise I do not trust their words.

I can only relate to near death experiencers, also, to some degree.


again, to trust those who will be sent, either in manifest 'form'  and know those not in manifest form are always here with the apparition of the 'grieving woman'.

So, My son in the 3 dimensional place is headed out on his own

after staying here with me for a year, he has come to a place within himself that has transcended, and needs to fly. This lesson is me again, holding on to air, accepting his adventure, and staying in that place of peace that Joey knows so well.

Mike is fine. He will have fun. Let him go, Marianne.

The ego balks with post traumatic drama. It thinks it is the body and wants to keep Mike's body here and protect him (from what?)...I sit in it and recognize the distress of the ego's fears and let them pass.

Trying to grasp at shadows and air, the ego is so full of shit. The conditioned mind.

Mike must fly and I watch him almost chirping as he readies himself for his new chapter.

and then remembering that the past present future are all in the same place. So we are all being born all dying all experiencing every moment of this dream at the same time.

Tap into that place, Marianne, the one that does not change. The Self with No Name. The One where Joey and Bob watch this play with amusement.

Tap in deeply, dear.

I love you Mike. Have a great adventure full of Joy.

sit still.

the sages say sit still. the sages say don't move. the sages say you are. you are. that is all. the sages say you are. i am. that is all. there is no other place but i am.


dont even know what love is. this me here posts that on FB and realizes it hasnt got a fucking clue.

the sages say the i am is love.

blind faith here.

watching the world explode in meditation

saw it destroyed, blowing up, like a nuclear holocaust or the sun just swallowing it up...very beautiful, slow motion ..or maybe it was being birthed...same thing. ....just fires of lava and explosions with no noise....quite beautiful...

and then flew over a city i do not know which one, where there were parking garages with funny cartoon characters painted onto the cement spaces..

and then a glimpse of a fly around the edge of the planet as a wave of clouds presented themselves wafting off the planet and the stars showed up in the background...



---------------------

i dont go in asking for joey now i think he must be busy. i go in with the word 'surrender'. i feel like i am bugging him or something. or counting on him too much.

some days i just dont want to be here

I already know it's just my ego talking, but I watched my little self looking up how many pills it would take to take myself over. Some days I watch 'her' do that, and know she is going to probably not do it, but there is some peace in knowing it can be done.

I couldn't do that to the other kids, though. But just knowing I can do it, gives me peace. If I want to stop this whole show, I can.

Every fucking sage out there has all the goddamned answers but not one , except for Mooji, has had a child stop using their body. I have no idea what happened to him, but it isn't happening to me.

I am just tired.

By the way, it takes 120 pills and 3 bottles of wine to do it.

I won't.

But if Bobby and Mike weren't here, I would.

throwing it out there

meditation all day but i am not satisfied...perhaps my ego is desiring. it is like i have hit a blockage. perhaps Joey feels i am aware enough not to show up now. or perhaps my ego needs to be hit by a nuclear bomb.

Ayahuasca.


sending it out there, already asked a friend online where to go.


the ego needs to be decimated. perhaps the nuclear strike is ayahuasca.

so be it if it is meant to be.

awaiting an answer from the universe.


destroying that illusory veil.


got to know my son.

..........

one of the discussion boards I visited was debating the concept of whether linear time exists. I had brought up the subject, foolishly again, that past present and future are all in the same place.

this bothers people a lot.

i do not begin to state i know i know this. i just know i was conditioned (even with a picture in my mind) of 'time' going from left to right, from birth thru death and a void on either side. I can draw the picture. i see it even now. i used to see it as a child. perhaps a nun showed it to me. i don't know. nuns told me a lot of crap. once a nun tried to explain infinity to me (so i would understand hell)..she told me to imagine a bird flying up to a large steel ball in the sky as large as the sun....every thousand years the bird would fly up there and flap it's wings once at the ball. she told me 'when that steel ball is demolished by the flapping of that bird every thousand years...well, thats how long eternity is!'....as a child i shuddered at the thought of such a long time...

now i am trying to picture the universe in layers, one inside the other, like little russian dolls....its not easy making a new picture of multi dimensions....i just know now that my 'eyes' and 'ears' pick up only the teeniest  spectrums of frequencies, and they are not to be trusted. they have been conditioned also. they lie all the time. 'oh that is a chair!' 'oh that is the sound of a truck!' but they do not wish to hear or see what else is going on they are lazy.

i have to close them off to 'hear' and 'see'. sometimes they flicker, tho, and out of the corner of the left eye i see something and then it goes away. i am so sure it is a figure. then it is gone. but not gone, my conditioned brain just ignores it. it has been taught to filter out everything as a security valve to keep me a decent member of society.

only when i paint or draw am i allowed to open the faucets up and let it come out and it is usually just taking energy and forming it.

which is all this all is anyway.

so Joey is the creator of his own form as a Joey in this place and he is still creating from his source connected to everything, as am I. both of us are sitting together making dreams and plays and it never ends. it just is.

i watch what the sages say online, so many of them i could fill a football stadium with them, but i dont necessarily take to heart any of it . i just read it and wonder what they mean because they are always talking thru their own filters. even mooji. even buddha. all of them. i just watch and listen and wait.


the more i do know, since there is no past present or future , is that none of this is at all serious and is a lot of silliness. it makes no sense and has no meaning whatsoever to it. i might as well be a flower for all the sense this makes.

trying not to get bogged down in it is another thing, if i am just energy formed as an illusory dream, the last thing i want is to slog thru it, might as well dance.

Joey seems to think so , too. I know he is okay but i want him to come and let me know again and again and i am filled with desire which , as the mighty sages say, is a no no.


so i just wait til i no longer do this dance as an 'i'.    


they also tell me to love myself. i have no idea what that means.



maybe i never loved marianne but i am going to take the leap of faith that she is loved somewhere within this mess of multidimensional universality. somewhere.


i envy anita moorjani , she knows now she is loved. she beams.

roller coaster

Reading all the statuses of sages can be very tiring. One says 'to merge with the source', the other says 'to watch from the observer but not to identify even with the observer'...

I 'sort' of get it...then I remember there is no 'I' so why am I typing the word 'I...' maybe words are limiting...yes, they are.

In the meantime, someone tells me 'You cuss too much.'

I say to him ' Does that bother you?'

He says "yes, sometimes.'

So I watch 'me' roll my eyes, and start to think, excuse me? I cuss too much? and I watch this apparition become annoyed with such a criticism. Then, I remember..oh....that's right. All criticism is bullshit. And I still decide not to speak to him for a while if he is going to criticize. Then I recognize how juvenile that reaction is. If he does not like that I cuss, then he can close his ears. It is his issue, not mine. I go to sleep laughing at this.

I still desire. I desire Joey to let me know what he is up to. I think of him every second. It is my whole world here in this apparition now to speak to him. There is no moment when he is not being thought of by me. I watch this and start to suffer, and I even watch that. I allow it to occur, whatever 'I' means, and then it occurs. I expect miracles all the time, and in that expectation I lose whatever is going on under my nose.  I want to hear from him all the time, so I put on the headphones and meditate and then I am displeased because my ego takes over and I do not hear from him .   When I do, I carry the gift for weeks in my pocket to keep me from sinking like a stone.    

There is nothing more than wanting to know my son as he is now. Nothing but that takes precedence. 

to my children and friends

I write this to assure you that I know I will never die. My sons, you seem so afraid of that, and I promise you faithfully down to every fibre of my be-ing, that there is no death. You check on me as though I were some precious glass bowl, about to shatter. I have already shattered, and there is no bowl, I am the very air you breathe when I die, and I know I am already gone, but you still see my body , which is merely a teeny bit of me imagining myself into a glass bowl. I never died, was never born. I just am. The person you called Mom was a fellow traveler on a journey with you and she is very much alive all the time. You got caught up in the image I was projecting as 'Marianne' and 'Mom' but she was just a temporary image. I know you think you will miss her. Its okay if you do , but believe me, she never left.

Listen to me, listen to me while I speak now. There is something so great running this whole 'show'. It tells me, while I am using this image, to laugh. It tells me, while I am using this image, not to worry. It tells me, while I sit here in this image, that there is no death, that everyone you see wearing their 'images' are all part of the same thing, something magnificent and full of happiness. Do not regret, do not have guilt, do not fight against the ocean that you are. All of us will drop these images of ourselves, and do not have fear. Fear is being afraid of that magnificent ocean of Love that we all are.

I am still going to be the mom you know, but I will be the most powerful essence of what you 'remember' the image as. I sometimes feel her in meditation and she is every good thing I ever was. Remember when I played a clown and danced and acted silly? She (me) is still that and more. I know this now. All of the crazy things you remember Mom doing was and is the essence of the Mom that continues ..I am a tiny part of that essence of my magnificence while being in this image called a 'body'.

I chose every moment of this show. Always remember I chose it all. I chose to have all of you come here and be my sons for a while. I chose to be a mom, it is part of my essence, to protect and love the innocent. I also chose to learn many things. To learn this was a little play we are all experiencing. To learn I am a part of something so much larger than this place.

There is no separation between us and never will be. We are all in the same place at the same time. Your body is not who you are, totally. It is a projection , like the image on a camera. YOU are the camera, the real YOU is just thinking yourself up. Its pretty glorious!! You can relax, now . You can just ride through this whole thing like a little kid on a scooter and let the wind carry you along, because you, too, will not die. Your bodies may get old (don't worry, it is fun) but they are just teeny weeny itty bitty parts of a bigger YOU that runs the show. That bigger YOU is attached to everything, IS everything. You will still be Mike and Bobby, you will still be the best of the Mike and Bobby I know.

Both of you have hearts so big and loving. Both of you are such gentle souls!! That is who you are, those huge gentle loving souls shining through those bodies I see. I see it so clearly.

You can stop worrying, you are already going to be fine. Nothing can hurt you, no one can harm you. Not the real YOU that runs this show. That is the YOU that is attached to me, and Joey and Daddy and everyone in the light. NO one can hurt you, nothing can harm who you really are.

I wish I could show you how beautiful you both look to me when I see you.


Remember, everything is perfect. Everyone is perfect. You are perfect. Relax. Don't be afraid of anything, do not be afraid when my body is no longer being used. I will still be here. I already know that. Joey and Dad are here.

There are so many dimensions going on around you, its amazing. You are just blinded sometimes by that little image called a body. It filters out what we are all taught to filter out. Mom found a way to pop the cork on that filter. Mom can hook up now,even using this body, to undo the filter. If you want to hook up , listen to me in your dreams (the good ones of me are real!) and also meditate. Throw OUT your thoughts and let the GOOD stuff come in. Thoughts and worry only get in the way.

watch for synchronicity....events that feed into one another..evolve and show you the whys of why they are happening. Try not to judge ANY occurrence as 'good' or 'bad'....just let them be............

When your brother Joey decided it was his time to stop imagining himself using a body, is when I knew I couldn't commit suicide by stopping my own body.....because of the two of you I had to continue using the imaginary body I have...but guess what..I DID commit suicide....while still using this imaginary body..I made it die ! I saw it for what it really is, and THAT is what killed it. Now I use it like an old coat . I don't need it at all, but I just use it until it wears out. I KNOW it is not who I really am.


I had to dump it, my sons, because I needed to know how your brother was. So, you still see it now, but you think 'oh no, she will go away if she drops her body!'

Not true! I will be bigger than EVER when I drop my body. I will still BE!

We do not die, Bobby and Mike, we always are and always will be. we go home. You can look down at your own bodies and say 'Oh they are just temporary apparitions I am having of myself!'......really!!

It is freedom. It means you are never old , it means you are always free and this little small teeny blip of 'time' is all this is, a blip.


I will  ALWAYS BE WITH YOU.


always always know that. and stop worrying.


Love Mom

fear or love

love seems to be centered around compassion.
this time, compassion comes without attachment.
as i told ellyn yesterday, when joey stopped using his body as a suit,
my house burned down.

it burned down but instead of rebuilding it i just stood on the destruction and continued the lighting of the fires.

i could not put it back anymore.
i only went halfway when bob and scott left their bodies. i went as far as i would allow, and took out of it what had to be taken from the experience to make this place  bearable.
with joey, the unbearable could only be bearable if i lost it all.

the bottle of pills could not be my way out. nope. bobby and mike did not need to go thru that.

caught between a rock and a hard place.

the two worlds i had been taught existed had to be joined.

i used to be compassionate, but with attachment.
now, this is a dream, and still compassionate but none of this is more than a transitory state of imagination.

as i told ellyn...when your child is lost in the warehouse, and you cannot find him, you tear down every inch of that warehouse, because your love is so great for that child you will keep tearing til there is not one inch of that warehouse left.

and then you dive in and start digging under the warehouse.

i know joey is happy now. i am holding onto that like a tether of a silver rope flung down to keep me in a place of non despair, despair i had been taught was the only choice i had. it is not.

joey and bob and the rest of them, as pablo says, are with me and watching. i trust ellyn, and pablo, who seem to be these two souls i am so blessed to be gifted to know.

i went to sleep last night with the gratitude of a saint, thanking them all for sending me these 2 souls to help me now. thanking them for those gifts, thanking them for being there for me .

i have had visions come of my friend and they were powerful. pablo says it is no longer possible to dismiss them.


why do i still think they are not real when so many have been real? even before the monroe institute for so long things came thru and i dismissed them.

ellyn and i spoke of fear and how it is pervasive in its way of being so familiar to people they do not want to let go of what it creates.

it seems so lonely sometimes, to be in this place where i sink under to ask questions and find answers and bring that consciousness into this place and then want to share it with people because ..i guess i still do not trust what i see inside. how much more do i need to have happen to learn to trust?

i think of my other 2 sons and want them to know this is not all there is, but this is my journey and when i share it with them i think they think i am crazy or fooling myself when i tell them i know joey did not die, no one dies, nothing dies. even tho joey came to them even stronger than me, i wonder what they think of all this.

they are both so different and yet so the same. one is quiet and says little, the other is he who goes out there and conquers the world like a soldier. both are who they are. should i concern myself with them, when they are on their own  journey? is it my business? i just want them to be happy.

but i should know better now i should i should i keep shoulding all over myself. that all is well. no matter what.

my higher self /god hung up on me in meditation yesterday when i asked ..why would you do any of this in this thick dimension? this is just stupid. i always ask that. the bliss better be damned good to keep me from asking that when i dump my body.

am i now destined to go thru my friend's dumping her body?  i saw it.

ellyn said we chose this consciousness to compare. to add contrast to the painting. i know about that when i paint. when i need to add depth. i told her, well, thats stupid. why would we do that when we are prebirth bliss? because we get bored with bliss? wtf?

she laughed. i suppose i might as well laugh because none of this makes sense. today i go to a friend's home and let her hear the hemi sync cd's. i suppose this is why i still hang around here.

for my other sons, for my grandson, for a smile and giggle to someone. joey says that is all it is.

just a smile and a little laughter and looking at someone and telling them they are loved.

pablo said he saw me in a ceremony in a vision and i had graduated...in his filter of a catholic church..like , some ceremony i recall well when i was a little girl and carried wheat stalks in a white dress at Saint Peter and Paul...i liked churches, i liked staring at the stained glass windows...i think my paintings come from that staring, plus i liked Latin...because the mystery was there ...and i wanted to know what the mystery was..

did i graduate? wtf? i have no idea. maybe i am just insane. thats okay, so is everyone.

man i am glad my linear time body is almost 62. frees me up from a lot. i would never want it to be at 30 again and be facing this whole scenario.

ellyn said the reason joey took such a bite out of this place is because he knew he would be dumping his body at 23.

but i intend to use this thing and remove the veil that does not exist. been doing that for way too long, now its time to dive even further. there is no veil.

tired

i often feel joey is laughing at me. so now i have had even more confirmation that he is happy and it is just that simple.

if i dont get it by now i am insane.
but everyone seems to be anyway.

mooji says to choose and so i do. i do not want people around and yet i am terribly lonely for people who understand. even the most arduous spiritual types seems seriously hell bent on reaching some nirvana and that only makes me roll my eyes when no one is laughing.

if i cannot love hitler i do not know how to love.

everyone tells me there is a veil and i dont believe them for a second.

joey tells me to be more patient but i have an issue with patience when it comes to destroying the illusion of a veil.

maybe i should just jump straight in to the ayahuasca

oh phoo..my ego needs to keep out of this, everything will just open up on its own.

i have no idea why i am still in this town.

i keep dreaming of houses and i live there and have to move and cannot see my gardens grow.

i am so tired.

and lonely.

and i can feel joey and bob laughing with kindness at me.

i give up.

in the morning

This play has become boring. "I" stay as a presence merely to accomodate my other 2 'sons' who share this journey as fellow souls along this pathway. Joey asked me to. And so, this puppet continues the play.

Sleeping a lot in this dream. 12 hours of linear time spent in sleep as a sluggish puppet, but, then , look at the dogs. They sleep, so shall this puppet.

Mornings, that part of the play, waking into this dream once again and dreading it. Walking the puppet outside to take the dogs out, when

this morning the voice inside like a wind said " SEE. THE. GOD. IN. EVERYTHING. IT RUNS THROUGH EVERYTHING."

 and i looked at the snow through these puppet eyes, and the twigs and branches sticking out of the ground, and watched the crows caw through the grey sky and saw it all like a stopped. postcard. a stopped. picture. but underneath was flowing a force .

look underneath this shallow picture, there is a force.

look behind the puppet. focus on the force behind the puppet and the props.

and see .

Testing...

I seem to be getting tested. This temporary vessel that labelled itself 'Marianne' keeps to itself, mostly, except for an occasional occurence when it drives somewhere or meets someone.

yesterday it received a phone call from a distraught woman who is manifesting as a 70 yr old. She wants to save the world. She went on and on about her concerns, her weariness, her vocal retribution about 'fracking' in Michigan, her worries, her this and that.

This 'Marianne' just listened, but there was no one listening more than that. The test is this :Does this Marianne thing get hooked into the drama of the play?

No.

It just sort of wanders through it. It is like living on another planet with this kind of test.

Part of this 'Marianne' thing wanted to tell the woman "This is not real." But it didn't , because she needs it to be 'real' now. This is her journey. None of my business.

The world is already perfect, Marianne wanted to tell her.

marianne kept still.

It is like living on a planet where everyone thinks the earth is flat and you know it is round.

The test also came when the grandchild decided not to manifest.

Only for a day did 'Marianne' grieve.because I knew the baby is fine. The grief was 'Marianne's' expectations.


The tests seem to suggest that 'Marianne' is becoming tinier and tinier until she is like a dandelion head blowing away and there is one little seed left.

The tests come and I am always surprised that the 'Marianne' does not hook into the drama of the play.

no grandchild using a body

the baby decided not to use a body / "We are sorry, honey" says the doctor "You lost it."

Now I know why Joey wants me to continue my 'presence' here for Bobby and Mike.

all in all, the little soul decided not to come here. the body did not fit.

I love you, little soul.


grandma.

just let go

Received a kind word from a man named Ron Russo, who  told me that when he drowned as a young man, he felt himself in the thick mud under the river he was drowning in, and he struggled and struggled until he finally...just...let....go....and then, the peace took over.

He was trying to tell me that my son is in incredible peace...but instead, he told me what I needed.

Last night I decided not to struggle anymore.

I lay down and said fuck it. I am done.

The dream sent to me in the sleeping was Mike and Bobby as little boys, and they needed care, so I cared for them. And, I was able to care for them.

Joey did not show up as a little boy, as he has in the past, where I cannot care for him or his brothers.

I woke up into this waking dream without that feeling of being a terrible mother who cannot care for her children properly as I have in the past.

I woke up with the feeling of being in a place where Joey does not need for me to care for him, but the others are still in the place and need me in some way.

I see Bobby's face when he calls me online, and he looks at me with great love as a child looks at a mother, my face must look like his mother, some aspect of me comforts him now.

And Mike told me, when I related to him I have dreams of feeling unloved.."Mom..if you only knew how loved you are..."

So maybe Joey was just saying...and this comes through to  me a bit.."You are there for them now, and I am okay...quit struggling..."

Grandchild

The play is sending another grandchild to play a part in it all, and I have evidently chosen to be a 'grandmother' again, that is the play, and the props are in place.

People near and far are rejoicing and justifying  their own ego boats they are in by telling me how wonderful it is to be born and manifest a body and how lucky it is to be experiencing this.

I am very joyous that the Light is manifesting as a body called my grandchildren, and will welcome it with love and attention and enjoy the gift of the soul of this little one who chose to come from the Ocean of Light and Love and divinely inhale this dimension with this body I, too, have manifested.

I wonder why, though, no celebration occurs when the body is no longer manifested.

All I heard when my son stopped using the body was gloom from other people.

I hear only from those who have stopped using their bodies , such as near death experiencers, a celebration for my son.

I will surround myself with those people who celebrate his birth out of a body , and back home again with his father.

I live alone and speak to no one here. There is no slight flirtation now with surrendering to everything, and disappearing. There is no tip toeing around with spiritual books but still hanging onto any of this anymore.

Everything must go.

I have very little energy for the play and find myself, as I am in the body, pretending far too much to accomodate other people in their need for me to feed the justifications of their ego boats. How silly, when the ice could break underneath them at anytime as they paddle furiously with their names and positions and assurance that their bodies are who they are.

so, I do not answer the phone or have people around, and prefer the dogs , who ask for nothing, and the birds , who ask for nothing, and the cats, who ask for nothing. I lay on the bed with the dogs and sleep. It is enough. I feel myself wanting to call the movers to clear my home of what little is left of the furniture that has appeared, and clear away the props. The less of 'me', the more of God. The more of Joey, who knows God better than I can even consider.

The only thing keeping me from chucking it all is the non human animals, who I have taken on as friends, who count on me to keep them warm and love them. as they do for me.

I am totally alone, and yet surrounded by Joey and Bob and those who no longer use their bodies, and I speak with them always, because they are who I trust implicitly and will always lead this body into a right state.

I cannot even leave the house easily, I hide inside this containment, and know it is not real and there is no reason to leave unless a pull comes to do so. When I do, I am never really anywhere but in a state of not being there. There is no place. No place is everywhere. I know I am not seeing anything more then a limited spectrum of a conditioned mind.

I will be the grandmother, and do it well, because the innocent must be loved and laughed with and cared for and are so close to the angels. That is what shows up, and I love the innocent that show up at my door, and embrace them .

This body will not manifest soon enough in linear time, and so it is merely a conditioned mind that sees it as a hindrance, but sometimes I feel this inner struggle as tho a bird in a cage is trying to release itself and it jumps around inside looking for an exit. but no doors open and the bird has to settle down and accept it.

I ask Joey every morning in this space to send me something palatable to get through it, and he does. I ask him and his father and all of them to stay with me, I am so close. yet not in their understanding, yet.

lay down.

I keep seeing people out of the right corner of my eye. I am heading down again, but at least I am aware of it and just watching it from some other place.

They seem to come around when I need them . so be it.

Dreams come and go, the latest is a recurring dream of being stuck in a building and getting off of elevators on all the wrong floors and not being able to escape.

Then there are the house dreams, beautiful houses I cannot stay in and keep planting flowers and gardens and then am rushed away to another home where I cannot stay. and the little creatures that live with me cannot be saved. They beg me to mother them and I try but cannot save them.

The first dream I remember as a 4 yr old child is when I dreamt I walked through the mirror in the dining room, and entered a world of many rooms, all of them bedrooms with beautiful places to lay down.

Perhaps that was my best dream. Going through the mirror.

No one would believe me if I told them I saw a large object shaped like a tube with bright lights on it in the sky when I was a 6 yr old. No one would believe me if I told them it had lights all along the side of it and hovered over my back meadows as a little girl.

So I dont tell people that.

I am tired of dreams of archetypes like Robin Williams who reject me as a lover.. Talk about annoying. I am only rejecting myself anyway.

Dreams I am not lovable enough are very annoying.

Only once did I have one where I knew something beloved was there and loving me.

The feeling I had when I woke up to this dream was joy.

I am tired of this play and even though I chose the play and wrote the script and have to let it play out, I am still tired of the part.

I am told I will not even care I did it when I no longer manifest as a body . I guess I will  trust what the near death experiencers say to me. They are all I have now to trust, to what extent I can trust them.

I can trust Mooji's words more. He knows some things.

I am tired.I need to lay down for a while.

the baby

Went inside today to check on the new baby that is now going to be a grandchild of mine in this 'here' consciousness..sometimes I go in 'looking' and then when I do not look I get it.

A little girl with blondish curly hair with her brother holding her arm. She was wearing a dress of white and blue and laughing.

I had the vision in 2007 of the spirit boy (little Andy) and girl holding hands. I do not know what to make of any of this, so I wont make anything of it.

I saw nothing but shadows when I went in, when I asked the baby to let me see through it's eyes. I surrounded it with light, the uterus and the light was all around. I surrounded the whole earth with the same light.

I felt no issue to concern myself with. Saw again a pair of lovers, saw embrace. Dont know what that means.

Started towards a door.

Saw a membrane of sorts. Red. Started to analyze it and it disappeared.

Stop analyzing.

Whatever will be will just arise.

Lighten up.

obituary just for the heck of it

My dearest ones:

Please be aware that I did not die. Please be aware that there is no death. Yes, I always Am. I still Am. You are merely grieving the temporary vessel of manifestation you called 'Marianne'. That was a costume, and it was only used for a temporary period. It is perfectly alright to grieve it, if you must, but you are grieving a coat I wore.

I understand you may have been taught differently, and therefore feel the need to grieve. I honour that need, but announce once again to you that I did not die, and neither will you.

I assure you  I always Am, and always have been, and always will Be.

To my sons who still manifest as bodies: please know I am always with you and I am also in celebration now as I have fully returned Home to where we all come from. I am in the Light and so are you, but your beliefs and bodies may keep you in limitation as to this. You are aware that I tried very hard in meditation to access that, to understand, while using my body, to fully be aware of the Love that your brother Joey and your father are in. I knew the body was a temporary manifestation, and was in preparation. That is all. I had to learn to 'die' so I could actually let the body 'die'. Remember, no one is just their 'body'.

This place was just a passing through for a little while.

I love you always. There is NO separation between us, even though you may think this. Do not believe there is separation. There is not. Just because you cannot see my body does not mean I am gone. Do NOT believe that nonsense.

Close your eyes and listen to your heart and your love for me, and I will always be with you.

Regret nothing. ! Always celebrate our short journey as we chose each other to be mother and sons even before we became 'bodies' in this place. We chose it for a reason.

Follow your hearts! Follow what you love the most! Follow the bliss that makes you happy!


Have no fear. When fear arises it is always false. It is bullshit! There is nothing but laughter and love and JOY that runs the whole show here. Remember that you are never alone, and are always with me and dad and Joey.  ALWAYS REMEMBER YOU ARE ALWAYS SURROUNDED BY OUR LOVE.

I always am and you always are. The 'earth' play we were in is just a temporary play for a wee bit. Don't take it seriously.

I will be there when it is your time to make the journey home. I promise. I am with you now.

I love you to infinity and beyond and you know that. When you feel that, it is me.

As I was dying today

as I was dying this morning as I listened to the second from last of the Monroe Going Home tapes,  I felt a sudden shift in this place and felt myself in a tunnel filled with stars my old star field friend but this time whirling thru it and everytime I started to whirl thru it the only thought that kept me going was the feeling of love for Joey it made it go faster

and when I started to think about anything else I would go bacwards, back. but when I started thinking of the Love I had for Joey I went forward and then


all black. a void. the deepest ever. a blackness so black and a quiet so quiet/


and the ego said 'You cannot go here'

and I said
shut up, my son went here, I will go here.

and then the Cd stopped.


I sat in a place of peace with that all day and tried to recreate it with the same CD but I could not because it wasnt meant to be a second time, you cannot recreate the experience because you want to, thats something desire says, so I accepted the next meditation. Nonetheless it has never been this far in.

Iiiii

obliterated

listening to the cds' of Going Home by Bob Monroe . this last one. obliterated.

who needs Kali I painted her out.

when was reaching into the void the ego said you dont want to go there and said to ego

my son went there i will go there quit being silly you go there

and expanded

feel 100000000000000000times infinity feet wide and tall

something something

pAINTING KALI

The art never lies does it. so this play this form called marianne has been doing this since it was a little child. even at 19 yrs old painting the walls of the bedroom with reclining goddesses and especially why did i paint a tombstone with the words 'Life is a Jest and all things show it, I thought so once and now I know it.'

and the woman I knew who warned me in theater school not to question the fabric of the universe or i would go insane. silly girl.

painting Kali as with all the paintings starts with the essence of the energy to incarnate her she has to be solid but moving she is firm but slashing she stands on my corpse with monstrous strength but she is pregnant with possibilities she is laughing maniacally because it is necessary for her to do her work to allow the light to break in and for the form to recycle

the abstract portion of her first then on to the detail and the first time 6 arms must be solidified onto a body but they must all be in motion with the task of slashing away all that which must be destroyed

just have fun doing this, marianne self, she is having fun cutting you to  pieces at warp  speed

i want to hear thunder come from the painting

vivid dreams

at the sleeping state, wildly vivid as each character archetype that was once considered a need or a want, and a desire, are being burned off one by one

something is going on behind the scenes of this play

a swath of characters are being destroyed and rearranged into something else

want, desire, approval, need, all in their costumes are being slaughtered

waking into this waking state i can feel them burnt off and a little more clarity occurs


perhaps Kali heard my call

there are no rules

Diving in

someone asked me on the ACISTE forum if I had the discipline to meditate and demand 'show me' for 30 minutes a day.

try hours.

when one's child leaves the residence of their body, you dive in after them, while still inhabiting the body. you do not half dive or maybe dive or touch the water with your toes.

you fucking dive to the deepest possible place

and it gets deeper and deeper the more you dive


starting to feel the body turning into waves these past few sessions. hands starting to lift off.

saw my own face looking at my own face

waiting for the new CDs to arrive from monroe. got to dive in deeper. water is too shallow at f12 f15 now.

dont follow anyone elses path just start a new one through the bramble that no one believes you can get through.

deep jungle i dreamed of in 1984 in south haven as i cut my way through the jungle looking for the answer to what love was?

yeah now i know what that dream meant.

quit asking them

Well, I asked a whole shitload of people who have had NDE's if they would grieve at all if one of their children crossed out of their bodies, and all I got was a shitload of different answers.

I mean, these people were THERE in the LIGHT and LOVE and they still cannot say no, I would not, perhaps it would soften it a bit but they cannot tell if they would grieve, or maybe they would, or whatever.

I compare this quest I have to know that LOVE my son is in to the same concerns I had when I sent him to a school. First, I checked out the school to make sure it was safe, to make sure the teachers were good, to make sure he was in a safe and loving environment.

Now I am supposed to merely take it on 'good faith' that he is in a safe and loving environment without having even attended the damned place and checked it out! Horseshit!

Either I am allowed to know the LOVE he is in, or I spend the rest of this play waiting to get out of this play. Not one moment of peace will occur until I know. I am aware that means a hellishly awful time in this play.

But I am done trying to make the play palatable. Only one thing will make it palatable, and that is to know the LOVE my son is in. Anything else is bullshit.

At least I have the weary knowledge that eventually I will know. It will mean my last silly breath in this animated corpse, but at least I know I am headed in that direction.

In the meantime, learning to make Purgatory palatable enough to muddle through.

stop.

impatience has a way of tiring one out, which is a good thing because one has to stop and give up.

some guy posted to let the rose bloom on it's own and try not to force it.
paradox is that the rose already bloomed but like a star that already died and one just sees the light now, same thing. nature teaches.

of course, nature is only what is inside of me anyway showing itself on the outside.

then that makes every thing a divine moment, i guess. everything becomes divine.

too tired to fight god now. might as well play video games.

throwing it away

so much anger today so much anger. watching the cupboards bang and screaming at the dogs and slamming the cleaner around.

laid down and threw it all away down the black hole, everything, threw marianne down again, threw all the concepts of children, grandchildren, the whole thing down the hole and asked for one thing ..to let it go..what is holding me to it? the me part? what won't let go? throw it all down!! all of it. let her die , please but something is holding on to something

just the ego talking they will tell me, all the well meaning people out there who assure me of their own happiness. but they live in the place of lala land where nothing disappears down their rabbit hole and they think they are exempt. boy will they be surprised.

woman calls me today to tell me her daughter won a prestigious academic award. all the power of bringing up some aspect of a 'self' occurs, and tell her 'thats wonderful, tell your daughter that i am happy for her' but then the weariness of that 'self' coming up was too much. i wont answer the phone , too much 'self' occuring with that, people who want marianne back.

what is holding on? why won't it just go? go go gogogogogogogo away marianne. disappear. go!!! get rid of her. throw her out.

saw visions of puppets on strings being handled by cloud beings, their hands holding the many many many puppets, little dolls walking and gesticulating about from the cloud people's hands who held the puppets wires and wood attachments and made them dance. dance, puppets, walk around here and there.

some of the puppets dropped and lay there.

so thats how it is.

stupid puppet show.