Monday, March 30, 2015

Receiving Signs

Saturday night I lay in bed so weary and worn I asked aloud for a sign. I usually make my requests quietly in the pages of my journal or telepathically in my mind. In this particular moment, I loudly demanded a sign. I was tired in my core and in the moment didn't even know for what kind of sign I was asking or why. 

Sunday I awoke feeling like new and thought of the prior night's cry. I also recalled how before going to bed, I lay in the grass for the first time in a month. Communing with Earth, I felt at peace and connected yet by the time I made it to bed I just about shouted my request. Was feeling better my sign? 

Later in the day I drove to the country where I've a home surrounded with gardens. (The original owner was a Master Gardener.) I arrived with hesitation due to the two nights of twenty-degrees we had just experienced. With the same energy with which I demanded a sign, I had also begged the angels over my property to protect the emerging life there from cold's harm. I had telepathically demanded that the flowers remember the sun held in their roots as the freeze took hold of the area. 

I feared the emerging flowers would be frozen. Mrs. Stewart, Clarice as she was known, planted a variety of daffodils and I so wanted to see them this year. Truthfully I longed to see them this year. 

Acceptance and non-attachment are tricky for me. I wanted to be okay with frozen foliage, but frankly I didn't want to feel the sadness that mushy, limp daffodils and hyacinths would stir. 

I arrived to see Jerry unpacking his backpack and airing his tent from a weekend trip. I was happy to see him but I see him every day. I was happier to be greeted by the guests I only see once a year. Flourishing daffodils, bluebells, hyacinths, and trilliums all showed their colorful heads about the yard. Even now tears of joy come to my eyes as I type this for these precious beings only arrive once a year for such a short time. These aren't the flowers in the grocery or florist's shop. These are living entities with whom I've had a relationship for eight years. They were loved by the woman and man who planted them and are equally loved by Jerry and me. 

I walked around seeing "my sign" everywhere. The forsythia was in all its yellow glory. The lilac blossoms were thriving as were tiny bleeding heart blossoms, lily of the valley, Easter lilies, peonies and columbine. And the spiral of lavender bushes that looked dead over winter showed signs of green! 

These beautiful blossoms were my sign. My prayers of protection had been heard by the angels and spirits I experience in this place

I started not to share this story. My inner judge said, "Who am you to pray over plants when people are hungry, homeless and sick? Do the flowers really need your prayers?" 

They may not need them but they love them. I feel that just as I felt them loving me as I sang to them yesterday. And I know I need their joy in this world of guns, fracking, fighting, sex trafficking, GMO's, animal abuse, ecological degradation  corruption, hunger, homelessness, and such neglect. I need to feel the joy they bring me. I need to feel my prayers are heard just as I need their sweet scent in my face intermittently as I type. 

I only cut flowers in my yard when I feel a sense that I'm suppose to do so. Yesterday as I walked about I heard from the ones desirous of returning to the city with me. I sang and clipped as today I write and cry tears of joy as this bouquet of aliveness sits across from me. They remind me I am the Master Gardener in my life whether I'm offering prayers of love and care for me, my home or others or I'm pouring out my heart's love as I lie on the earth or dig in the dirt. Ultimately it is all about Love. 

Love, Love, Love, Love, Love. 
-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 30  March 2015
Enjoy the beauty of these seven varieties of daffodils.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Mystery's Messages in the Small Things

In mid-November as I was pulling out of my driveway, this leaf fell from the sky to my windshield as a light rain began. I immediately thought, "Love fell from the stars" and took this photo.
This was and is beauty to me especially since astrologically I am in my Venus Return. At the time of this photo, Venus and the Sun were together and I had just that day asked that all old emotion in me be excavated so I could be clear of everything holding me back from being my purest, truest self.

I received exactly what I requested. In the two weeks that followed, I was regularly awakened in the night feeling the rising up of emotions I had suppressed since childhood. I was navigating the Underworld within me.

Two weeks later, I looked down to see this heart shaped burning bush leaf on the rug to my morning writing space. It took my breath. I still have this leaf.
I knew Nature so loves me and I knew Love resides in the above and the below.

Pay attention to the small things.

Mystery's messages lie therein.
-Dawn, The Good News Muse 19 March 2015

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

Nature Speaks - How Do You Listen?

Yesterday I found a male cardinal someone had placed just behind the small brick wall in front of my home. I imagined their gently laying it under the burning bush because they sensed or knew I tend the birds whether they are living or dead.

Under the stars at day's end, I smudged and blessed this beautiful, bright red bird then placed it in the ferns in the back yard. This area has been the final resting place of many birds, snakes and animals. I laid sprigs of lavender on its body, then covered it with leaves. I asked its kin to receive it as well as continue coming to Earth to gift us with their beauty and song.

Then I asked two things I had never previously done. I asked the fern fairies to honor it as well and I asked for renewed vitality for those of my human kin that needed it as well as their recognizing the beauty of their self-importance. (Ted Andrews in the book "Animal Speaks" writes that cardinal represents renewed vitality through recognition of one's self-importance.)

This morning only a sprig of lavender remained where I had placed the cardinal. 
This happened once before when I had left a large, black snake in the same place. The next morning, just like this one, the animal was gone yet the leaves appeared unmoved. 

This morning I imagined the fern fairies wearing cardinal's red feathers and the cardinal feeling great joy. Then I sat in my writing chair next to the ferns. 

At some point I glanced down to find a portion of a turtle's shell at my feet. Upon seeing its details, I immediately had three associations.  I saw a portal, then ripples made by a pebble tossed into a pond and lastly a spider's web. The fairies had left me a gift. A gift with many messages. 
Earth is a portal. And my simple, mindful actions, whether blessing an animal or my fellow human kin, create unseen ripples in energy's field by which a new web is being weaved. I held this treasure for quiet awhile. Even now as night is here, it lays across from me. In my world, this is quite the gift. 

Moses had a burning bush. 

Nature is my burning bush, a testament to the presence of the Divine leading me step-by-step in this journey called Life. (I later read in "Animal Speaks" that turtles are associated with doorways to the fairy realm!) 

Take time to notice and be mindful of the messages Nature has for you. Pay attention to your intuitive hits. Trust yourself. Take your time. Listen. Look. See. 
-Dawn, The Good News Muse 17 March, 2015

Friday, March 13, 2015

In Honor of Pi

For the Audio version of this story is HERE.

In late October 2011, I saw the familiar stones at the Stonehenge Golf Course east of Nashville and thought, 'That looks like pi.'  I had golfed there previously and never thought this. I wasn't even sure what pi meant. I mentally made a note of what to me felt like a sign.

Two weeks passed and I felt compelled to drive to the country overnight for the 11/10/11 Full Moon.

Early the next morning before my drive back into Nashville, the moon still hung in the southwestern sky.  I had never before made a quick round trip like this and was only returning to the city because a friend invited me to join her for an 11-11-11 ritual at the Bicentennial Mall.

Nearing Nashville, a traffic jam forced me to take an exit I had never taken as I tried to wind my way into downtown.  For some reason at that exit I felt led to invite any lingering energy related to sorrow and suffering to join us for the ritual.  When these ideas show up, I don't question.  I trust.  I spoke aloud asking that the residual pain of the Native Americans, slaves and civil war soldiers in this area join me.

I felt like I was on a mission that I could not have anticipated moments prior.  The road curved slightly and I was suddenly on a street leading straight into downtown. I was running late. To my surprise policemen were stationed waving me and other cars through at each red-light. It was as if they knew I was on a mission.

I arrived at the Bicentennial Mall yet was delayed there due to cars parked everywhere. I found a parking place and had a choice. I could run ahead and join my friend who waved to me half-way down the mall or I could start at the beginning where Tennessee's rivers and towns are mapped out in stone.

With a vase of summer's last zinnias in hand, a bottle of Glastonbury water in my pocket and great love in my heart, I started at the map of Tennessee. I honored four communities to which I feel connected by placing a zinnia one each one's name. Then I gave one to a homeless man bearing witness to my ritual from a nearby picnic table.

Next were the fountains representing Tennessee's rivers. At that time the fountains had not been working since the May flood of 2010. I hurriedly walked past each river wanting to catch my friends before remembering the sacred water from Glastonbury, England in my pocket. I stood at the Eastern  end of the state and blessed every river especially the Wolf River because wolves are such teachers and have willingly suffered so much and the Buffalo on which I grew up.

When I arrived at the grassy area that fills the mid-section, I realized the policeman had been on a mission. They were clearing traffic for the Veteran's Day parade. Before me were civil war encampment scenes with cannons, costumed people and pyramid shaped tents. Something about this was perfect for 11-11-11 as we began the shift from control and conquest to greater cooperation and compassion.

I walked through this scene and offered zinnias to many of those in costume.  Each person accepted my offering.  I placed one on an old ironing board that was part of a homestead and another on a cannon, symbols of the feminine and masculine.  I was born a bit late to be a flower child yet I felt like an emissary of Mother Earth leaving the beauty of love evidenced by flowers at stops along the Mall.

By the time I reached the bell towers, it felt like the zinnias were my loaves and fishes.  They seemed to multiply as I had given them away.  I reached the bell towers and joined my friend and two others who were already meditating.  We sat in the center of the towers with the zinnias, water and other honored objects in the middle of us.  My friend played her Peruvian flute as I quietly invited the suffering I gathered to be transmuted and leave this plane.

As I sat receiving love from below and above and sending it out to all, Spirit sent a test to ensure I was clear of judgement and fear.  A man announced an artillery demonstration at the small stage down the mall just in front of us.

During each pause as a gun was fired, a man on a microphone spoke. At one point he referenced "warfare maturing in order to neutralize the field." This was the perfect.  Love is the greatest neutralizer.  Throughout time it has neutralized hate and fear.

To make this even more perfect, my friend played "Amazing Grace" on her flute.  This experience truly was Amazing Grace.

We parted ways and I drove home.  That afternoon while still in Nashville as I went through the mail, I saw the symbol for pi (II) on two different things.  Then as I sat in the car awaiting Jerry and flipping through a home goods catalog, there it was again. The pi symbol was on the face of a clock.

When I receive messages synchronistically like this, I intentionally don't research them. To do so usually puts me in a heady thinking space which takes me from an intuitive listening place.

Late that afternoon for the first time in all our years of leaving Nashville, Jerry drove out of town on a state highway rather than the interstate.  He didn't know of my driving into town on an alternative route.  As we left town, I again invited the energies of suffering from this area to join us.

Later under the 11-11-11 moon, we offered a ritual honoring all souls that have known earthly pain.  With sage, lavender, zinnias and Glastonbury water, we honored the French and all those burned at the stake. We called in the Native Americans torn from the Mother land they loved as well as those killed in the Holocaust. We called in those connected to the land we now live on whose prior lives have been hard as well as veterans who have died in wars. We honored the dark man, all those from Africa and other countries who were enslaved and we honored the dark man within - the shadow of humankind that has caused harm to others as well as ignoring Mother Earth and her children.

The winds were fierce as they often are that time of year in this particular area.  This was exactly how it is suppose to be as winds cleared the energy of suffering and sorrow that had joined us and came up from the valley below us. I sensed the ancestors above us joining in this profound ritual that spontaneously unfolded through listening to intuition. And I remembered those zinnias at the Bicentennial Mall.  I had left powerful little flowering portals with starry centers all along the mall.

The next morning we drove into Cookeville for the Art Prowl. I should have known since this was the 11th Annual Art Prowl that my story had not ended.

The first piece of art at the first venue I entered, Poets on the Square, took my breath.

Pi in the Sky by Kevin Courtney Delaney could have been the only piece I saw that day.  The Universe and God through this man affirmed the entire last twenty-four hours from Nashville's Bicentennial Mall to my rural yard.

I ordered a print and spent the rest of my day somewhat distracted wondering what pi really meant.  Upon arriving home, I broke my rule and went on-line in hopes of gaining an understanding.  I still didn't get it. I could not cognitively make connections. There was something missing in my brain or in what I read.

Two weeks later at Thanksgiving dinner in Iowa, I sat by Jerry's teenage niece. I asked what she enjoyed in school.  As soon as she said, "Math" I asked if she knew about Pi. Her eyes brightened.  We went to another room. With pen and paper, Abbey explained pi in her way and it clicked.  I got the message I needed when she said, "Pi goes on for infinity."

Infinity !

That's when I knew the beauty of Pi in the Sky and the rituals for transmuting sorrow and helping it pass on 11-11-11.  I was being shown infinity really is in the sky.

To solidify that I GOT this, the next day in a rural Iowa bookstore I found a paperback of which many had read but I had not. It's title? The Life of Pi.

There is life in Pi. Life never ends. Love never ends. We change form but we and love go on and on. Those who leave us are never really gone. We are connected through Pi throughout infinity to all we have loved.
-Dawn, The Good News Muse 14 March 2015

To Photo Shop or Not

I consider myself non-judgmental (much of the time) but I may need to rethink that. Or maybe there's a line between judgement and just plain curious. Here's what got me thinking along these lines......

Not long ago at the bank, it happened again. The greeter at the BOA, the one I don't frequent but have as of late, walked up to me and said, "Do you only have a deposit?" 

I smiled, nodded and said, "Yes." I nearly began walking toward her assuming she was about to write a deposit slip for me the way the greeter does at the BOA in my 'hood. 

Instead this young woman said, "The ATM is just behind you." 

From her look I could tell she saw my look, because her smile vanished before I said, "I prefer people over ATM's." 

I stood in the line and met the gentleman in front of me when what I really wanted to do was ask this woman about her looks, not her look. 

Yes, I wondered how she really looked beneath the mask of make-up. Trust me it was a mask and I'm not knocking make-up. (A handful of folks, or maybe more, have probably looked at me and thought I could benefit from make-up. Or they've been curious as to why I don't.)

I wear lip gloss and blush at times but have worn foundation all of four times in the last 5 years - once for Wendy's wedding, once for a video, and twice now for auditions. 

The man in front of me agreed he liked the personal touch of human tellers as well. I shared the last time I stood in line at this particular bank after being encouraged to go to the ATM. That time, I commented on the teller's necklace and learned it was a St. Christopher that had been blessed by Pope Francis. No one was behind me so she and I talked about our appreciation for him. I told her he was enough to make me consider becoming Catholic. In my world, ours was a beautiful exchange confirming I had made the choice best for me, standing in line rather than using a machine. 

After the banking encounter, I ventured to Whole Body. I made a return and as I walked out I passed a boy of five or six with his mother. He was talking and pointing to the magazine rack. The word  "air brushed" stopped me as he continued pointing. His mother bent down trying to understand. 

I understood. This child of six at the most was telling his mother that the thin woman on the magazine cover had been air brushed. I looked at the mother and said, "Your son is wise and he's right." 

Then I added, "Just about everything on magazines and ads are air brushed these days. Actually I'm beginning to think even people are air brushed." 

She looked at me a bit strange. Afterwards I wished I had gotten down eye level with this young soul and said, "Don't ever let anyone air brush who you are! You be You not what you're told to be or think you're suppose to be."

This brief interaction circled me back around to the woman in the bank. 

What's up with our society and world really? 

Fast isn't necessarily better. Machines cannot deliver the personal touch. (I definitely don't want a drone delivering my pizza as I read recently was in the works.) Beauty is only skin deep and in the eye of the beholder. The personal always tops photo-shopped (unless I'm a marketer trying to sell something.) Foundation is an interesting word choice for what we women put on our face. 

And I am curious as to how women and girls spend time putting on make-up, some a lot more than others, covering up how they really look because a magazine, a mother, a model, a societal mode tells them to. 

I'm curious. Are you? 
-Dawn, The Good News Muse 13 March 2015

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Dear Winter

"Dear Winter" in Audio. Click HERE.

Dear Winter,

Here you are near your end and many are so very glad. (I write near your end because you and I know it's not uncommon for you to swing through even the south in March or April.)

I'm guessing you've heard. You've been a most tweeted and talked about guest. Similar to last year you've gone viral multiple times. You've trended more than Miley or Kim. You've been all over Facebook, the papers and media. Your offspring, Remus, Pandora and Neptune, made headlines.  The Weather Channel might hardly exist without you. You have stimulated the economies of bread, milk and plumbing companies.

Many have moaned about you as water pipes have burst. I am grateful to have shut the water off each night and drained the pipes.  Except for the night we forgot and our bathroom became a temporary lake, I have not moaned in the typical way.  I do wonder as to the salt scattered about our roads and its effect on our watersheds in ways we are unaware and seem to not care.  I have wondered who owns Metro's salt contract and if the authorities are so afraid of lawsuits that they over salt the roads more than my grandparents did their food.

In the mid-west, my mother-in-law didn't see the grass in her front yard for weeks. About that, I would definitely moan.

Winter, I dreaded you so much so that I once told Jerry I would be living elsewhere when you came around again. At the time I really meant it. I just didn't know where.

After that pronouncement, months passed. Your sibling Spring arrived and stayed and stayed.  Summer came late and left earlier than usual. Fall took a chapter from Spring as its visit was prolonged. Then you came and I had not moved.  Well, I actually I did move.

In looking back, I became a morning one instead of a moaning one thanks to moves I made.

Indoors I placed clear lights around the windows of the room in which I write, meditate and work. They still brighten that room to this day because regardless of the season I decided their gentle glow evoked peace.

Outside I placed a chair near the neighbor's fence by the ferns and Japanese maple.

We moved to this spot of Nashville Earth with its fence and house the year of the Nashville Ice Storm.  We enjoyed five days at least without power. We bundled up , ate out some and walked. We walked a lot.  Then they began cutting the trees after that ice storm.  This stimulated the economies of cutting companies contracted from out of state as well as the anger of those of us who love trees.  And of course there hasn't been an ice storm of that magnitude since until this year and this years didn't rival '94.

I have lived in this house for twenty years and thanks to you, Winter, I finally found this place where every morning I went to my office as it was dubbed.  I and two blankets, a scarf, hat, gloves, two pair of long underwear with pen, paper, coffee, camera and often a burning candle settled into a chair.  On a handful of rainy mornings, an umbrella became my roof.
My "office" 
Surrounded by colleagues, I watched, listened and wrote even when it snowed.

External distractions, caused me to nearly miss half of you these last two years. The after-Christmas fight between Jerry and me nearly did me in. To those with tough skins who don't feel connected to Nature, this will not make sense. I awoke one morning to find he had raked and mulched all my leaves. He didn't know I was attached to the Japanese maple leaves all around my office floor. He was helping, picking up. I was stunned. It took me two days to recover. I got down on my knees as did he and gathered leaves, Nature's carpeting, to scatter at my feet. Carpeting was laid, we made up and I returned to work. This year the water company has been laying a new line for the last two months. Their jackhammers can be heard like a giant woodpecker throughout the neighborhood. It took me a month to realize their noise was why I had avoided being outside.

And speaking of woodpeckers, one of their kin, a Great Northern Flicker has been daily company to me this winter and last. I think he left this week as have the juncos. I still feel the joy from that December day these winter visitors arrived. That same joy will be stirred soon by hummingbirds.

Great Northern Flicker (woodpecker's kin)

Chipmunk has reappeared as has a bunny. I finally saw a vole, kin I suspect to the frozen one I laid to rest our first single digit day.

Winter, you have reminded me of Ice Ages past. Early cave man didn't have groceries to which to run and stock up.  I have pondered what it was like for people then.  I have imagined the Ice Age of the heart melting in our world today.

I have felt kin to AudubonAldo and Ansel while noting and photographing the visiting birds, the plants holding their own in various shades of brown and green as well as the trees anchoring my office walls and towering over me.

Oh and I can't forget the other towering Beings.

Bundled like a human burrito, Sun has towered over me many days and I have felt its energy inside me as I've never before experienced it.  While at night, Jupiter, Sirius, the Pleaides and Orion's belt have faithfully proceeded over my office gifting my colleagues and me with energy.

Winter, do you feel my joy and my deep gratitude? You have given me parts of me that I didn't even know were missing. And though I will enjoy not wearing long underwear daily and I've already been outside barefoot this week, I will, like the juncos, so miss you.

Some people probably look at gray-haired, fifty-five year old me and think I am nearer my end than my beginning.  What they don't know is thanks to you, I am in my beginning, for you have allowed me to find this outer place that has revealed to me the inner places.

I SO love you,
The Good News Muse 
11 March 2015

I wrote this in my office this morning then happened to look left while packing up to head inside. I started not to pick up the scrap nearby but was curious. What was this? I turned over this piece of plastic from ferns planted years ago and read: Pictum (the fern name).  Of course I thought, 'Yes, I picked em' these beautiful colleagues with which to hang out  this Winter. And for that I am so gratetful.

Monday, March 9, 2015

The Elements - Inspired by Blue and Gray

I've seen this scene from our bedroom a multitude of mornings, but never before have the words "blue and gray" crossed my mind until yesterday. 

I glanced outside while reading as those two colors came from nowhere, which is always somewhere.  They were quickly followed by "the civil war."

I am no history buff and only did well in history class because I could memorize the facts required on tests. Had something specific occurred on March 8 during the Civil War? 

I grabbed my computer and instantly learned the battle between the Merrimack and Monitor began March 8, 1862.  I vaguely knew these terms but had no idea what happened. My search took me to various sites where I learned this was the first meeting in battle of ironclad warships, quite different from their wooden ancestors, and neither side actually won. The Merrimack had been rebuilt with much of its wooden structure replaced by iron and the Monitor was reminiscent of the submarines to come as it was primarily under water.

Wood   Metal   Water   Earth   Fire 

I thought of the elements involved in making theses ships and something a stranger said to me during the recent ice storm.  As I dropped my car off at the airport, a gentleman and I had a brief exchange regarding the storm that had just passed through Tennessee. He said, "The elements have some responsibility. They are trying to get our attention." This was a kindred spirit. I agreed, got on my plane for a brief flight and eventually had lunch in the hotel restaurant where I was attending a conference. That restaurant just happened to be named "Elements."

Earth's precious elements have served us for eons. Even during weather crises, the elements serve to help us connect with one another when we are open to it. This was evidenced during Nashville's 2010 flood and the recent ice storm on the Cumberland Plateau as folks from various churches and zip codes crossed social divides to help those in need.

Wood    Metal    Water    Earth    Fire

Fire's energy broke open the nut birthing the great wood sculpture called oak out my window as fire and water made steam propelling these great metal beings I glimpsed through history's window.  

We've the opportunity and gift, the responsibility and challenge of using and harnessing the elements with greater consciousness. What gets in our way? How is it difference and opposition so easily divide? In some people's minds, the blue and gray still fight.

Then I thought of the colors - blue and gray.

Blue represents the throat chakra, the center of voice and will.  Gray is what we are challenged to hold each day as we navigate the issues and differences that create tension rather than resort to black and white. 

If those who died in the civil war were around today, what might they voice regarding the consequences of war such as never seeing their loved ones again? If they could get our attention, like a weather crisis does, what might they say as to our divisiveness?

May we use the elements of our daily life and honor the elements of Earth so that wars are fewer and our differences don't as easily divide us.
-Dawn, The Good News Muse 9 March 2015

The Extraordinary In the Ordinary

Do you notice how the extraordinary is embedded in the ordinary?

Many mornings I am attitudinally challenged, but one recent morning was especially intriguing since Jerry and I talked the night prior about my having a morning ritual before getting out of bed.  I immediately knew the essential oil I would inhale before my feet hit the floor. I had not used it in a year or more.  I found it, slipped the bottle under my pillow and fell asleep only to be awakened by the prolonged alarm Jerry forgot to turn off when he got out of bed.

The blaring sound didn't help with easing into my day in a different way.  I grumpily took the essence from under my pillow, forgot to use it and headed downstairs. As I waited for water to boil, I began to work on the top of my new outdoor mug. In trying to get the flip top back on track, I had broken the entire lid. I don't spend money easily and the most expensive mug I've ever bought was suddenly not functional for cold mornings outside.

I then turned off the boiling tea water just in time to see the essential oil bottle nearby land in the floor. The "Heart of God*" broke. Its contents spilled to the floor

The Heart of God was broken.  

Tears welled in my eyes. I knew immediately this is a big part of my challenge in getting out of bed each morning. My heart gets broken and I don't always own my sorrow.  To make matters worse I try to protect or shield my heart to ensure brokenness doesn't occur again. 

I cleaned up the mess and took out bird seed while the tea steeped. On the deck, I bent down to tussle the herbs' green heads forgetting I had an open container of seed tucked in the crook of my arm. Seed was now all over the deck. 

These were not the rituals I had planned to get my day off to a better start yet they were exactly what I needed.

As I pondered the cup, the Heart of God and spilled seed, this creation story came to me. 

The cup appeared empty though in quantum science terms it was filled with invisible energy since nothing is ever really empty. The Divine took the lid off so to speak eons ago and Creation's energy came tumbling out. Humans eventually showed up on the scene and in time God's heart was broken. How could it not be looking at how the earth and her kin are treated as well as people living impoverished, neglected and trafficked.

Yet seed was on the deck. 

In baseball terms, this gave me great hope for the seed on deck represented new souls and old souls ready for a do-over, awaiting their turn at Earth's home plate. Seed on the deck reminded me of opportunities awaiting, opportunities of which I'm unaware but am being prepared. Seed on the deck represented all things new and ready to grow - ideas, inspiration and hope.

As the alarm clock of these times blares, I am grateful for the seed on deck. I am grateful for the extraordinary messages I see and hear in my ordinary life. And although I know I am episodically cause for Divine grief, I also know I am balm for that grief as well.

Pay attention to how the extraordinary arrives in your life. There are secrets hidden everywhere.

*Click HERE for information on Belva Cunningham's line of "Scentered" line of essential oils. 

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 9 March 2015