July 2015 archive

Land of Roses

Our Lady of the Night by Sister Marie-Pierre Semler

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? – May Oliver

I went to Bulgaria, the land of roses, and looked for her there, my rose, the one that could heal my heart.

I felt so alone among people, and I did not know how not to feel that way. I felt there was still ice in me, and a dark blue night, even though at many levels I was happy.

I walked through the day, quietly looking for her. I tried to remember her in everything I did, hoping it would bring me closer to her light, and yet there was something in me resisting, resisting giving up the world to find her.

All I wanted was for my heart to be healed, to not feel so cold. I was learning to trust, one step at the time.

I walked with her in quiet meditation, and she showed herself in little moments, reminding me of how much I yearned for her, to feel deeply loved.

I walked by gift shops and saw images of her. I bought rose tea and rose oil and thought of her. I walked by a church dedicated to her, and saw red roses growing over a white fence. I sat with her in silence, hoping to understand.

I walked and gathered things in my heart, little gems to carry with me. I talked to people and I saw the light in them, as they spoke of their dreams.

Now I’m back among quiet whispering trees, and a stillness that has its own voice, and I think of her, remembering her, and she seems closer than before, smiling softly.

I wonder how my journey will end, how I will know I’m healed, and I feel it will end with her, with following her, and giving up my pain.

A Lucid Dream

burnejones23I had a beautiful dream last night, which made me linger in bed as long as I could, going through every detail that I could remember.

Sometimes I feel I’m given special dreams when I feel bad about myself, when I wish to change. Maybe it’s a gift, a way to help me move forward.

Before going to bed I saw something beautiful that touched me, and maybe it opened me up to go somewhere new in my dreams, someplace with meaning, soul and beauty.

I saw my dad, and I was so happy to be with him again. We hugged, and I cried. He looked wonderful, younger, his hair more black than it was when he died. 

At some point I realized I was dreaming. I looked around me, amazed at the clarity of the mountains.

I went to a place that was very familiar to me, and yet I had never been there, at least not in this lifetime. Has that ever happened to you?

I’m curious about what is going on in realms beyond this one, what I could discover there. Those places feel so close, like stepping through a doorway, slipping behind the veil. 

I yearn for more clarity in my dreams, and mystical experiences while asleep in my bed; to wake up with a sense of magic. 

Rose Painted Dress

seabois- Émile Vernon (1872 - 1919) - Fille au citronnier,detail.I bought a dress from a lovely second hand shop. A dress I had told myself not to buy because when would I wear it? I had to be sensible, and thrifty, and I had anyway just bought a new skirt.

But the dress looked at me, and I looked back, and I wondered why no one had bought it yet. It made me nervous, all this checking back to see if it was still there, and I started thinking that maybe it was waiting for me. So I bought it, and it arrived in such a sweet, personal package, wrapped in gold paper, adorned with small, dried flowers.

It’s like a piece of art, a rose painted dress, handmade I think, and maybe one of a kind? I tried it on, and of course frowned at myself in the mirror, as we often do, but still it was very pretty. I draped it across a chair and there it stayed, like a sweet touch of color in my small, pale apartment. Just looking at it made me soften and smile.


I went to Bulgaria, the land of roses, and I wore my dress in the wedding of two dear friends. I felt pretty, a little insecure, and at the same time more like myself than I usually feel at parties. I feel that clothes too have an energy, and rose seemed fitting for a wedding, for love.

I’m drawn to roses. I need them to heal, to find my path. Lately I’ve been making oat porridge for breakfast, with yogurt and rose honey drizzled on top, and it’s just wonderful.

It won’t be long now before I’ll be picking wild roses by the ocean edge, that open space I love so much. I can taste the salt air even now, see the vast blue sky across the sea. 

Maybe You’re a Rose

Maybe you’re a rose, a beautiful rose just waiting to bloom, to open in the morning light, dew drops glittering on petals, whispering of beauty hidden, and places unknown. 

An Evening Swim

930a9e7866caa750ae432c7a2ea7b5a4I went for a swim, in the black lake, under a golden pink sky, the sun already hidden behind the mountains.

I was frustrated, a little upset, and I felt I needed the water, that I belong in the water, and I went for my first swim this year, quietly moving through the silky black waves, wanting to empty myself from all thought and feelings, wanting to find some peace.

Standing on the rocks I hesitated, the darkness in the water frightening me. There is no light in the lake, and going below the surface I can see nothing, and I have a fear of something grabbing me, pulling me under. I don’t trust I am safe. I always think something terrible might happen, and yet standing on the rocks I felt the presence of the Goddess, and I softened a little, not feeling I needed to be so hard inside. Something told me to just wade into the water, to not hesitate, not fear the cold, and I did, more or less. I walked into it without waiting, and fell into a swim, happily moving towards that golden sky.