What a comfortable chair. Good to be back. Duc thinks so, too – all curled up on his cushion beside my laptop, toasting under the lamp.
Duc obsessed for three days so intensely that he was away for 18 hours at one point. When he came in, he would conduct a five minute investigation, sniffing for some scent that was apparently absent. Rabbit? Raccoon? My cuddly angora feline transformed into his ancestral panther persona. Finally, a few nights later, I arrived home to a large, beheaded rat on my door mat. The tail, attached to its fat, small-dog sized body, was over a foot long.
Duc has been on R & R since the trophy kill and has not stopped purring. I’m changing the name on his house outside to Sir Duc le Chat.
We experienced rains heavier than I’ve seen before. The other morning, I had to forgo my morning walk to prepare for a gathering. Dressed and ready to meet with good friends, I walked outside to a flood in my yard and driveway. Water rushed over the culvert, flooding the street and cutting new routes to escape down the hill.
Fortunately, using a grass whip, I was able to finally clear the the debris from the culvert’s opening. Branches had plummeted down the ditch. Evidently my innocuous trickling stream had been a raging torrent for some hours according to the erosion. The incredible power of water. Which is worse: Too much or too little?
At times when “blue jobs” demand my immediate attention, I want my Dad to suddenly appear with solid advice and a strong arm. I want his reassuring hug that we simply need to proceed “slow and steady”. His wisdom has carried me through blizzards, mountain climbing, highways covered with ice, floods, and a broken heart. Age and experience has no bearing on my vulnerability. It thrives. I admit unabashedly that I would have given my eye tooth to have him by my side.
A close second would be one of my big brothers who both loathe ferries. Or, one of my many nephews who can handle blue jobs just as well as their grandfather.
Sprinkled amongst the episodes in blue, I’ve managed to coax pink morsels into my repertoire. Baking, making vegetable lentil soup, studying the Law of One, meditating, visiting with special people, helping with office work and marvelling over the awesome invitations I’ve been receiving for Christmas.
Providing Intuitive Messaging for people causes time to pass faster than a bullet train in Japan. I cherish each minute. A time of intense love from the Guides, there seems a sense of deep bonding with the person asking for the session. One of the sessions was so filled with peace and joy that I’m left with a sense of having been gifted with a bundle.
So many contacts now come through email, over the phone, on Skype and with Gmail’s new phone service. I’m learning to accept a closeness that is not hatched in person, even if it’s with people I love who are grieving the loss of loved ones. One of my close friends, J., whose mother recently died, is hosting two of her brothers for a few days. In exploring their grief together, they discovered new feelings. They could not come up with a word on which they could hang those feelings. They knew Sarah didn’t want to live any longer. They were relieved that she no longer suffered pain.
“So what have we lost, really?” J. asked.
“A masthead?” I asked.
“A masthead…” she said.
“As orphans, we no longer have the layer of protection between us and our own deaths. Now we, too, are vulnerable.”
Orphan status haunts so easily, so involuntarily, during emergencies, around grief and a whole bunch at Christmastime.
So, my Beloveds. After a few years of practice, I ought to know what to do. I can give.
Giving with sensitivity, love and compassion opens hearts. Who cares the degree? Give to blow out the temptation to believe in separateness. Give to trump up the courage to let humans see your vulnerabilities in all their glory. Give so others can become willing to expose theirs. Give so loving souls have a place to love back. Give so invitations turn armor into an intimacy that sustains souls into perpetuity.
I can do that. To whatever degree.
Love does not need to be defended, only given. Love does not need to be defended, only lived. With gratitude for all who give in partnership with the Infinite Mercy of The One.