Curly Sue

Had a peregrine falcon in a meditation some days ago find this today on Internet:

In the Native American traditions the peregrine falcon is associated with past life recall and can show us how to dive into ourselves without fear. It holds the medicine of precision, timing, grace, patience and acute mental perception. It teaches those with this medicine how to use their mental capabilities to the fullest, move in harmony with their own rhythm and strike with force when necessary.

Dreamcatcher

PRAYER WHEEL
by Maria Yracébûrû

Ancient Ones, Keepers of Knowledge, guide my heart and bless my tongue with words of hope and love. Ancient Ones, may I speak only with reverence. Hear my prayer, that others remember, Sacred Law. Chajala Nakía, Healing Snake of the South, be my inspiration. My dreams guide me. I take my first step toward the Dream Reality.

I have sympathy for those in fear. I have compassion for others’ lessons. Chajala Hada’didla, Healing Thunderbeings of the South West, fill me and infuse me with your glorious radiance. The power of healing is mine. All of today’s opportunities are easy, because I choose so.

I build my life on Tlish Diyan principles. May it be a good building when my work is complete. Chajala Eo’to’to, Healing Bear of the West, send forth in a blaze of glory the declaration of my triumphant emergence from the restrictions of all physical limitation. I need never go back again. I am spared that. My destiny lies in the future. I am certain it brings all that I desire, and more. I realize that past days have ended. I face each new day, the coming twenty four hours, with hope and courage.

Chajala Dolee’atee, Healing Little Ones of the North West, I, who have known ignorance, bigotry and injustice live to be a shining example of unconditional love and pure intent. The patterns I weave with my life are complex, full of intricate detail and knots. I go at my own pace, taking one stitch at a time. It is the perfect fit for my overall design. I take my lessons in stride. I accept what comes as part of Spirit’s plan for my spiritual growth.

Chajala Tuma, Healing Buffalo of the North, who has been an inspiration and sacred overseer of many of my incarnations, a deep breath invites the inner strength to move through me. I feel the exhilaration of Spirit’s power. I know the excitement of growth and peace. I feel that Spirit’s power is mine. I am able to face anything through that power.

Chajala Kachiñas, Healing Master Teachers of the North East, liberate me from any limitation that keeps me from fulfilling my highest good. I am never given more than I, and my higher power, can handle. The flow of Spirit comes to me through many channels. I function on the spiritual plane as well as on the material plane.

Chajala Itzá, Healing Eagle of the East, who has been my teacher, guardian and protector since time immortal, the lessons of love increase my rapture. I dwell with Spirit at the center of my life. I keep that inner peace at the center of my being.

Chajala Nohwiza’ye, Healing Ancestors of the South East, fill me with the desire to know and experience the hidden wisdom of the ages. A deep breath invites the inner strength to move through me. I feel the exhilaration of Spirit’s power. I know the excitement of growth and peace. May I be a help to discouraged people. May I have the courage to help bring about what the weary world needs but does not know how to get.

Chajala Yusn, Healing Giver of All Life from Above, universal teacher and bearer of truth and wisdom, be my inspiration. Depression must be coddled to maintain it. I choose to move beyond it, by kicking it off my train. I enjoy the results. May I be used by Spirit to lighten many burdens. May many souls be helped through my efforts.

Chajala Esonkñhsendehé, Healing Changing Mother from Below, infuse me with all the healing energy, love and compassion of your wondrous nature. I am grateful for my lessons today and know all is well. I reach forward and upward. May my character be changed by this reaching upward for the things of Spirit.

Chajala Pinu’u, Healing Higher Power of Myself from Within, I endeavor to personify hope and inspiration in my manner, speech and actions. When I am uncomfortable with certain people, and the feelings don’t leave, I consider what might transmute the energy. I open myself to the way and ask to be shown the steps necessary. I am patient. I accept the limitless and eternal Spirit. May this Power express itself in my life.

Chajala Bidáá, Healing Higher Power of the Light of All That Is, for whom I feel such great affinity, guide and sustain me in my quest for truth and creative powers. How great is my influence today! I go forth feeling love. I choose to ? it guarantees an enjoyable day for me and everyone I meet. I will not be held back. I let Spirit lead me forward. In my heart beats the Beauty Way, pulsing with each breath I take. In my thoughts burns the Eternal Fire, Spirit’s light to show the way. In my soul is the Sacred Way, the power to obtain lies within. Heartbeat of Esonkñhsendehé, Fire of Yusn, Power of Bidáá, my connection is strong.
Daaiina, and so it is.
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This spoke to my soul today :-)

Love Jessica

This song has haunted me all day. Can´t get it out of my mind *smile*

Fly me to the moon

Somebody

Enjoy the silence

More Gibran

More from Gibran ….

The White Torch
BY
Khalil Gibran

The month of Nisan had nearly passed. I continued to visit the home of Farris Effendi and to meet Selma in that beautiful garden, gazing upon her beauty, marvelling at her intelligence, and hearing the stillness of sorrow. I felt an invisible hand drawing me to her.

Every visit gave me a new meaning to her beauty and a new insight into her sweet spirit, Until she became a book whose pages I could understand and whose praises I could sing, but which I could never finish reading. A woman whom Providence has provided with beauty of spirit and body is a truth, at the same time both open and secret, which we can understand only by love, and touch only by virtue; and when we attempt to describe such a woman she disappears like vapour.

Selma Karamy had bodily and spiritual beauty, but how can I describe her to one who never knew her? Can a dead man remember the singing of a nightingale and the fragrance of a rose and the sigh of a brook? Can a prisoner who is heavily loaded with shackles follow the breeze of the dawn? Is not silence more painful than death? Does pride prevent me from describing Selma in plain words since I cannot draw her truthfully with luminous colours? A hungry man in a desert will not refuse to eat dry bread if Heaven does not shower him with manna and quails.

In her white silk dress, Selma was slender as a ray of moonlight coming through the window. She walked gracefully and rhythmically. Her voice was low and sweet; words fell from her lips like drops of dew falling from the petals of flowers when they are disturbed by the wind.

But Selma’s face! No words can describe its expression, reflecting first great internal suffering, then heavenly exaltation.

The beauty of Selma’s face was not classic; it was like a dream of revelation which cannot be measured or bound or copied by the brush of a painter or the chisel of a sculptor. Selma’s beauty was not in her golden hair, but in the virtue of purity which surrounded it; not in her large eyes, but in the light which emanated from them; not in her red lips, but in the sweetness of her words; not in her ivory neck, but in its slight bow to the front. Nor was it in her perfect figure, but in the nobility of her spirit, burning like a white torch between earth and sky. her beauty was like a gift of poetry. But poets care unhappy people, for, no matter how high their spirits reach, they will still be enclosed in an envelope of tears.

Selma was deeply thoughtful rather than talkative, and her silence was a kind of music that carried one to a world of dreams and made him listen to the throbbing of his heart, and see the ghosts of his thoughts and feelings standing before him, looking him in the eyes.

She wore a cloak of deep sorrow through her life, which increased her strange beauty and dignity, as a tree in blossom is more lovely when seen through the mist of dawn.

Sorrow linked her spirit and mine, as if each saw in the other’s face what the heart was feeling and heard the echo of a hidden voice. God had made two bodies in one, and separation could be nothing but agony.

The sorrowful spirit finds rest when united with a similar one. They join affectionately, as a stranger is cheered when he sees another stranger in a strange land. Hearts that are united through the medium of sorrow will not be separated by the glory of happiness. Love that is cleansed by tears will remain externally pure and beautiful.
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Just wonderful :-)