Posted December 31, 2008 at 16:17 (General)
Good Morning!
Over the last several weeks I have begun to notice something very interesting. A pattern that I am beginning to recognize, but yet unsure if it can be altered or not.
I am finding that on the days that I do readings, my creativity seems to be lacking. I could have been working on a project before doing a reading and all kind of creativity flows, but after the reading(s) it seems to be gone, I can remember what I was doing, what wanted to do but the spark itself was missing.
I have also noticed that the energies for readings is enhanced and more powerful when I have been creative just before the reading. Like the joy of my soul is carried into the spiritual connection of the reading.
It makes me wonder if this muscle just needs to be trained and developed or if I have just used up all my energies in the readings. I do not like the idea of being limited in my creativity, but being aware that the flow is not as open after readings can also eliminate frustration. I will continue to observe the process and if it appears that there is no changing it, then I will simply do the creative work earlier in the day and possibly move readings later into the day.
I have found on a personal level that my heart sings and dances with the joy for me when I am being expressive. When I am doing readings it is like being wrapped in a warm coccoon connected to everything through divine love. This gives me a wonderful understanding to being individual and being part of the whole.
Hugs,
Sharon Renae
The Crying Tree
Posted December 21, 2008 at 12:29 (General)
I am in my craft room, my intent is to create, to play, to accomplish nothing in particular.
I hear the high pitch screaming. The moaning, uncontrolable misery. I look out the window behind me. I see it, the city has cut a tree. It wails and cries. The other trees mourn in sychronization, the activity of the birds and squirrels has stopped.
This beautiful tree, a Live Oak, has been stripped. It now stands as an obelisk, no branches, no covering, naked. I sense its humility. It was proud in its existence. I was drawn much like a compulsion to go to the tree and offer comfort. I could not be concerned about my own embarrassement or what a passing stranger might think.
As I got closer to the tree its silent screams grew louder, more piercing. It is hard for me to think that this cannot be heard. The tree, now knowing fear, felt vulnerable. It was threatened by my approach, rightfully so.
I reached out and touched it, it scream, shrill and piercing, sadden the very depths of my soul. It could not understand the "why" of it. It could not understand what it had done in its being to have been torn apart, and yet left to suffer the indignity of not knowing if its life was over. It was concerned what would happen to the life it offered protection to. How now would it protect itself?
The trees around it suffered as well, not knowing what other change might occur and what would happen if they were no longer able to serve their purpose.
I could do nothing, other than send the love from the deepest part of myself. I could not offer it promises or certainty of life. I was helpless. I did what I knew to do and asked the heavens to embrace this tree in light and love, and that it might once more know what it is.
The world is powerful in its presence, alive, living and breathing. I appreciate what if offers me. I am not always so conscious of what was sacrificed for my comfort. Today I appreciate the sacrifice and the life that gave itself over for my comfort.
Hugs,
Sharon Renae