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Posts Tagged ‘Angels’

image from pattykikos.com

Sometimes things happen when we least expect it and in ways we could not have dreamed. This was one of those times. Intuition has guided me many times and this was one of those times.

On a lazy Sunday afternoon in the early summer, just before  school was due to finish for the year I was at home doing the usual things getting ready for the week ahead.  My son had walked to the local coffee shop to meet a friend…. for an iced coffee. They made really delicious iced coffees, perfect for a hot day.

About an hour or so after he had left there was an ear splitting screech of tires followed by a solid thump and then silence. An accident.  Something tugged at me from the moment the noise began that my son was ‘in trouble’. I knew he wasn’t hurt, so I knew he could not have been involved in the accident itself. Yet I also knew, beyond reason that the accident was the reason he was ‘in trouble’. My intuition was working overtime and screaming at me to get around there.

I grabbed my bag and keys and jumped into the car and drove around to the coffee shop. Without consciously thinking about it I had driven in the direction which would bring me to the opposite side of the road to the shopping centre which was not the usual way I would have gone.

As I drove up I could see a car, the passenger side on the road and the drivers side stopped against a small wall at an angle to the road. There were dozens of people standing in a semi circle back from the car.  I could see two heads above the  car, furthest away from where I parked. Walking quickly forward I recognised my son and his friend (D) standing in front of it, on the pathway, almost as though they were protecting it or the person inside.

About fifteen feet away from them was the biggest mountain of a man I had ever seen. He must have been seven feet tall and almost as wide. His arms were as big as small tree trunks and he was enraged.  Blood suffused his face and his muscles were knotted in cords in his arms and neck. In his hands was a large tree branch which had been broken off a small tree in the garden.  He was screaming at the boys to get out of the way or he would take their heads off too. He wanted the boy in the car (J) who was semi conscious and looked terrified.

I had never felt so proud of my son and his friend, who were facing down an enraged giant, protecting their friend and in real danger of being seriously hurt. The crowd, were silent and making no move to say or do anything to help. It took moments to assess the situation, and what could happen if it was not defused, and quickly. I was furious that the men  in the crowd would allow two teenage boys to stand in front of this enraged idiot and do nothing to help.

image from blogs.fanbox.com YES! He really was this big!

I marched (literally) between my son and this giant and stood there looking up at him. I could almost feel myself growing taller by the second as my blood pounded in my head.  I stared him in the eye and said. “Put that branch down, NOW”, in a strong but quiet tone.

For a moment he looked at me without an ounce of understanding in his eyes. Then he began shouting. “He could have killed a child”, “He could have hit another car”, “He had no business driving”, “If a child had been in the garden they could have been killed or hurt”. Each shout seemed louder than the one before, reverberating like thunder in the garden. Silence reigned elsewhere.

I said. “Put that branch down NOW, you are not going to hit anyone”.

He shouted,”If they don’t F****king move out of the way I’ll take their F***king heads off too, that goes for you too!”

My son tried to get me to move out of the way but that wasn’t going to happen. This man had lost any vestige of rationality and was not going to stand down for two teenage boys and the young fellow in the car was definitely going to be hurt if things did not change, and soon.

I took a step towards this giant, raised my finger and pointed it at him. Surprised he took a step back and looked a little unsure of himself. I said,”Put that damned branch down IMMEDIATELY, or you’ll be the one having his head taken off with it!”  Admittedly this was delivered with quite a bit more force.

There was silence for a minute and no-one moved. Again I raised my finger and he stepped back once more. “Drop it NOW, I said, RIGHT NOW!” The last word raised in a commanding tone.

With mumbling and muttering he dropped the branch, still shouting that children could have been hurt.

The only person hurt at this point was the young driver who was my son’s friend. There were no children in the street at all, none in the garden and the giant did not live there. Seeing him move off the two teenage guardians moved round to the side of the car to help their friend (J). He was awake and had been sitting petrified inside the car in the event this gargantuan man had taken out his friends and whoever was standing in front of him. He had no idea at that time that it was his friends mother.

The tragedy had occurred simply because J’s mother had asked him to go to the local shop for some milk. Instead of tying his joggers he had simply opened the laces and slipped them on. As he left the car park his foot slipped in his shoe and the laces wrapped around the accelerator and brake pedal. He could neither stop from accelerating nor brake. Fighting the car he swerved across the road and up onto the footpath making a semi circle on the front of the garden and clipping the small tree breaking off the branch our giant wanted to use. Hitting the tree caused him to hit his head on the side window and knock himself senseless for a few minutes.  His mothers new car was quite a mess.

The crowd was still there as the police drove up. Statements were taken from everyone, including many of the onlookers. I knew many of them. So did my son. All our children attended the same school and yet no-one was willing to talk to this half crazed lunatic once he picked up a branch. I was ashamed for them, embarrassed that they did not have the moral fortitude to defend two young boys, even if they were tall teenagers.

I understand that the situation could easily have ended differently. There was no telling how he would react to my commands, although I’m told I was a fearsome sight standing there.  Not bad for someone only five foot seven.

There is no logical explanation for the feeling I had which prompted me to go to the shop. Nothing happened to tell me my son would be defending his friend that day. What might have happened if I hadn’t heeded my gut instinct, my intuition?  It  has never led me astray, not once in many years. I think I will continue to listen to whatever guides me in these times. Intuition, angels, spiritual protection, whatever it is, it is powerful and wondrous. I am grateful it comes to me when needed.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. “    – Hamlet (1.5.166-7), Hamlet to Horatio

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I often stop and wonder why

I love to lay here watchingSunrise Aug 2. 3 (Copy)

High up in the sky

I find it comforting

Staring so high

Upon the clouds so different

All floating by

Thin wispy streamers

Heading somewhere

Or candyfloss tufts

Just wandering by

Coloured by the sunDSCN2266 (Copy)

Pink, lemon, blue or white

And big boiling thunderheads

Ponderously hanging there

Waiting with glee to share

Rain, hail or snow

Upon my hair

All without a single care.

Sunset 23 June. 8 (Copy)

“O it is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
To make the shifting clouds be what you please.”    ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

As children we spend hours gazing at the clouds, making stories of knights and dragons and castles with our imagination. There were angels and fairies and faces of all kinds. Summertime fun was to lay in the sun and watch the world drift by making stories of danger and romance and saving the day or being rescued. It was a world and time of possibilities, all linked to our imagination.

We seem too busy now to take five minutes and turn our face to the heavens. What delights we have denied ourselves in the name of being adults.  It is a pastime free for any to share, age is no barrier. I have watched the changing heavens and been mesmerised by the beauty, the colour, and seen the faces return for my imagination to soar. You can too.

I wish everyone “Happy sky gazing and storytelling”, a free gift with blessings for all.

Ciao, Susan x

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Let me paint you a picture.

image from cheezburger.com

The day began like most days…. the realisation by slow increments that it is daylight and there is a need, almost an urgency, to attend to certain bodily functions. A low groan makes itself heard and as your eyes are painstakingly cracked open once more a blurry visage appears in the small field of your vision. An angel from somewhere has appeared and manoeuvres you into a seated position, legs are swung around and after a pregnant pause you heave and are heaved into a standing position. An uncoordinated marionette staggers to the bathroom and in due time reappears and the return journey is replayed much like the first half of the sequence.

image from david-procter.mysupadupa.com –

Tea arrives and the humanizing process has begun. This is usually the time the sunglasses appear so that the eyes can be opened a little further. The first tablets appear and are ingested.  Strange noises, groans and half formed words slide past strangely numb lips.  Decoding this strange language takes skill but the angel seems to understand, more pills are swallowed and the angel then fades into the distance after ensuring you are properly propped up by a mound of pillows, neck braced to stop you twisting into a pretzel and silence reigns one more.

Eventually, you regain more recognition of your surroundings. The strange dream of running with wolves fades into the background, although the vision of a pair of wolves eyes remains, “You are being looked after by the wolves”. Such a strange thought to surface with, but at least the lucidity is returning. I have yet to work out the meaning of the strange dream which is till with me and has nothing to do with what followed..

Eating is not a topic I discuss often these days. Food, once a delight to all the senses, now requires a  tentative approach, taking into account all the strange gastronomic reactions that may hide for the unwary.  For some time we have been trying to work out what we can do to start the (my) day with something nutritious but which will not cause the unwelcome havoc other food has caused.

Eggs! Gods gift to the ill, small children and the elderly. So my grandmother always told me. They have been eulogised and vilified over the years.  Right – we have a beginning. We have recently gone glutton free – oh, sorry, that should be gluten-free, and have found some very nice gluten-free muffins. We, that is my chief cook, suggested a nutritious home-made version of (don’t spank me) the McMuffin!  Gluten free muffin, organic eggs and bacon. Hmm, I think we may have a winner.

Oh yes! Glorious yummy, decadent golden goodness.  Beautiful firm cooked egg white and soft runny golden yolk, crispy dry fried bacon and a toasted muffin. Ooh – aaahhh, so scrumptious.  Sorry, too tasty to stop for a photo!

image from nookandpantry.blogspot.com –

Now for days I have been served this delicious and nutritious start to my day… whatever time that happened to be. More often than not it is Ray’s lunch, but I’m not complaining, not at all.  I slowly nibble my muffin and ease into the deliciousness of food sitting sweetly in my tummy and start to feel human again.

Eggs are delightful and entertaining fare.  I have watched as Ray tucks heartily into his muffin and been rewarded by the golden yolk spurting out and hitting his lap; (must not laugh, must not laugh), followed a couple of days later by it shooting out toward him and hitting his lapel and chin, (must not laugh, must not laugh).  There is a very good reason for not laughing. I have found, to my dismay, that if I start to laugh I forget to chew and swallowing a half chewed morsel can cause coughing and spluttering and all sorts of unpleasantness.  I’ve taken the reminder as a warning to not feel smug because I haven’t had a problem with my yolks. (Bad, bad move, now I’ve “put the wood on things”).

This morning, well today, was a complete farce from beginning to end.  Everything progressed as usual until the Ray Muffin arrived. I’m nibbling away and Ray is tucking in. As his teeth come together there is a brilliant yellow  stream spraying out the side of his muffin and up his arm.  Not content with that, the surprise made him bite his cheek. D’oh and Double ouch!  I’m feeling chipper, no yolky mess here. Big mistake, smugness is not a good thing. I’m still nibbling, haven’t hit the golden yolk yet.

OMG! A huge spray of hot, golden yolk flies out of my muffin and hits me squarely in the chest, rapidly running down and congealing into a sticky mess on my shirt. Icky! Looking with affronted dismay at my lost yolk, Ray dissolves into laughter. I’m not sure who or what to be more affronted by, Ray for laughing, or the loss of my beautiful yolk. Oh, the revenge of the eggceptional Ray Muffin.

No, this is neither Ray nor I, but I’m sure you get the gist of the mornings farcical nature. To conclude this homage to the revenge of the humble egg I found this humorous anecdote.

“So familiar are eggs to us, however, that in the eighteenth century they were referred to as cackling farts, on the basis that chickens cackled all the time and eggs came out of the back of them.”
Mark Forsyth, The Horologicon: A Day’s Jaunt Through the Lost Words of the English Language

Mystery, if such there was has been solved. It was “Eggceptional Holmes”.

Ciao,

Susan

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“I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.”    David Benioff, City of Thieves

In between bouts of insomnia or restless sleep due to the nasty bug reactions I’m having, I am now sleeping really soundly.  That in itself may not seem like a big deal, but for someone who has spent the past decade sleeping in micro nana naps it really is something special.  It also means that I’m dreaming again, and an even greater gift is that I’m remembering them.  Of course that doesn’t mean they’re all full of fluff and puppies, there are some quite unreal and surreal dreams happening too. That’s what happened the other night.

The evening had been really nice but unremarkable. We had watched a little light tv and read for a short time before lights out.  I remember hearing the birds calling at one point, which I thought was quite unusual. Way off in the background I heard an owl calling and thought that he had upset the local Currawongs.  At least that’s what I thought at the time.

I suddenly found myself deep in a dream, a dream I remember vividly even now.

Even though it was daylight I could hear an Owl calling softly on the breeze.

I was ‘with’ a group of young people who were on a final outing before they finished their high school year.  It was a special trip to what appeared to be an island. There were sandy tracks and a largish building like an old timber schoolroom with tables and chairs inside. There were room dividers and blackboards on the walls, chalk on the side table and of course a teacher. I don’t remember how we reached the island, we were simply there.

The strange thing was the ‘teacher’ wasn’t teaching a normal subject. They were talking about preparing for entering the ‘real world’, the ‘adult world’ and how they needed to prepare themselves to ‘fit in’.  The girls were being told how to wear the correct clothes, make up and how to speak correctly when they were ‘outside’.  The boys on the other hand were off on the other side of the room being spoken to by a man, who I presumed was a male ‘teacher’. At times there would be some noise, laughter that was quieted and then one of the boys would vanish ouside.

It all seemed fairly normal…… but there was such an air of unreality to it that I started to take a little more notice.  Even though I was there, no one spoke directly to me. I could see the girls scribbling and doodling on pieces of paper but I didn’t have a seat, nor was I ‘teaching’. I was, in a very real sense, simply an observer.  It was almost as though I was watching over them and yet I couldn’t work out why, and all the time I could hear the Owl mournfully calling.

The girls were getting restlesss. They wanted to return, although I had no clear idea where they were returning to. The ‘teacher’ was starting to look a little menacing, which was more a feeling than anything she did.  However I noticed that the boys who had gone outside hadn’t made a reappearnace.  It felt really strange to be moving towards the doorway. I wasn’t walking, there was no sound of footsteps on the wooden floor. In fact, the entire time I had been there I couldn’t recall any sound of footsteps on the floor. The only sounds were those of the youths as they talked amongst themselves and became more unhappy at staying where they were.

As I went outside I heard a strange thumping noise and the sound of soft crying.  Rounding the side of the building I was met with a horrific sight. One boy was crouched in a tight ball near the building, trying to stifle his sobs. Meanwhile there was a thud which brought my eyes round to a scene from a torture chamber, but in a terrifying modern setting.

There was a contraption fixed to a tree which was hauling an old car body into the air by thick ropes. After an achingly long time, or so it seemed to me, there was a clunck as a ratchet let loose and the car body dropped onto the other boy kneeling in the sand. His head disappeared inside the car body, the car itself seeming to rest on his shoulders.  Although I gasped there was no reaction from the man, and the boy simply sobbed softly. In horror I saw the car body rise and the boys head reappeared. He seemed unhurt, his clothing torn, but scared almost beyond endurance.

Hearing a noise inside I turned to look through the door. Inside I was met by an eerie sight. All the schoolkids were arrayed around the table, exactly as they had been when I first saw them. Behind each person was the spirit of that child in ghostly outline.  They were all sitting there smiling happily, yet of the two adults, the ‘teachers’ there was no sign at all.

The only sound I could hear was the soft hoot of an owl telling me all was well in the world. He was keeping his watch and all was well.

I cannot explain my dream, perhaps over time the meaning will come to me. Until then, perhaps you may have an idea. Perhaps its message is meant for…. you?

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that won’t believe.

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbeliever’s fright.” William Blake quotes

All is well in the world. We are all being looked after.  Blessings.   Susan xx

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