Synchronicity is the Source of Consciousness
Time is the strands of past and future in our DNA, not the hands of time on a clock
I loved that, as soon as I walked in the time-honored door, profusely late, you were concerned that I’d gotten lost, in trouble, or something else.
Melt. Kiss.
Mmmmm. That’s the good stuff. I’m going there and staying in that sterling feeling. It’s a crack memory in my brain. No one can take it away. I keep a pile of those in a festive drawer for a rainy day.
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I’m stalking a case for spring in the autumn of my middle age.
My assembled energy is diametrically opposite that of needing the validation of an amassed group of imposters pretending to agree so they can drink together later.
It’s not that I don’t like the group, or that I don’t occasionally have a very dry martini, I just don’t viscerally need the group. They get exhumed energy from each other; even demand it threatening social castigation, as though there would be any real loss there.
I haven’t figured out how to affix myself to a rumbling male in my present condition.
In addition, my mephitic eighteen-year-old son will be moving out of the house soon to go on his way to sow his oats and beans. My peaceful environment is proliferating.
As I think back on the men/mates I’ve adored and who have adored me, as vain as that sounds, it was called love at the time and then it turned into territorial civil war and possessive jealousy.
I’m pretty sure that uncorked behavior is common and some couples like it that way but some don’t. I don’t.
It’s just that, in this new paradigm of sitting in my body and owning myself, that adoration doesn’t feel like it’s all it’s cracked up to be.
A man feels as though I’ve forged an alliance with a fawning cat whose nursing by pushing its paws into my chest.
Maybe it’s just the mood I’m in.
When a man starts to adore me he wants to own me, my time, and my body, like a puppy!
That’s been my experience with every man I’ve been with except this last guy I dated. At least he didn’t bug me. I know there are all the ideas about giving your mate the space they need, but then the real emotions of amorous desire creep in.
“I want you”, “I adore you”, “I need you”, “I love you”, “I miss you” becomes a medieval prison!
I used to think I wanted to be adored by a man with high self-esteem and all the pheromones I need to be turned on, but now I’m not so sure.
I love my life, my work, my friends, and my home. Maybe all of that adoration would be oppressive! I’d have to respond after all or that would be rude.
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The two are seemingly opposite but one is an illusion, the other Truth.
We speak of our bodies as having separate parts but we are one whole unit.
We say we are Mind, Body, Spirit but all three are one and the same.
The mind IS literally the body.
The body IS literally the mind.
The mind literally IS the spirit.
The spirit literally IS the mind.
The spirit literally IS the body.
The body literally IS the spirit.
Feeling and knowing this is living holism daily. I live this way and consequently, I have direct ears to Spirit through my mind, into my body. I have clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience, empathy, pretty much all of them. I live my intuition as a reality every day and it is confirmed by the quality and accuracy of my readings for others, the treatments I give my patients and the way people respond to me in public.
We are ONE whole human race, members of the body of GAIA.
We are one whole solar system, our Sun at its center.
We are one whole local galaxy, our galactic center in the Milky Way.
We are one whole universe of millions of species of life, Havona (Heaven) being Source and Center, God the Father and God the Mother at the helm.
Blessed Be.
(Thanks to everyone for all the likes on this. I love writing prose and will continue.)💜
I lose my gaze in a myriad of crystal snowflakes
wending their way to the earth.
I wonder if they could be the scads of tears, prayers, thoughts,
and meanderings of humans all over the Earth
who didn’t quite ascend their minds to the pure, white-hot, burning light of well-being to be absorbed by the sun?
The snows will always return until humans are magnetic and hot…
The snows return to earth under
the sacred gaze of bright cardinals robed in red and
chickadees who speechlessly honor and guard their sacred prayer.
Their temple is truly the bare tree,
The faithful, the crystals, kneeling to bow to the cold wind easing to a snail pace…
the evergreen, the stalwart, pounding, sacred heart of the earth who doesn’t even know what forgiveness is. It’s unnecessary.
Blessings to all the Earth’s living to be born again in the winter white.
©1/2/11 Lisa Townsend
Synchronicity is the Source of Consciousness 
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