One with the Elements (Message #34)

This is Oran
Your brother and your kin.

Please know that life goes on ever so. We will transform we will become one with the elements. With the stars. Such earthly sadness for the souls so quickly lost in the tsunami in Japan. They have already been recaptured by star light. They are forming new planets and worlds.

Where does the spirit go? Does all matter decay upon this earth that herself is slowly dying and transforming? No not all. Some matter becomes gaseous and forms again elsewhere. Some matter heals Mother Earth. Other matter joins the heavens again it becomes the stars and planets you cannot see yet. We are sorted, spirit matter. We are all reclaimed.

Go now,

Oran

The Stillness of the River Within You (Message #30)

Where [is] the light of peace. You are that lighthouse in the dark for so many. You are an example of the true light and love of God. People sometimes have trouble with that word-- God. Why is this? Because we have let the extremes of the meaning pollute the true meaning. God is the power you give to it. What is it? You. Me. All.

Realize that for some, God is the thing in the sky. A statue in a church. God is not outside of you. God IS you. Those seeking a father, a person instructing them on every matter seek someone to control them. To explain at every turn, "This is bad to do." "This is good to do." "You are a sinner. REPENT!" The God in you need be the only counsel you seek. That inner knowing. The voice calling you from the inland shore. Yes. God is this. The stillness of the river within you. Seek not the man or the woman who tell you where and what God is. You already know. Now practice this knowing and find thy peace.

Go now.
Your Brother,
Oran

(Draws the chapel, the cross, the shores of Mull and choppy seas betwix.)

The Earth. Our Waters.

Hello Friends,

I have found myself pretty troubled lately, still in transition, and craving time to sit with my experiences. There are many messages to come. They still come-- though I have taken a pause from writing, until I feel calm. Steady. I hope that day comes soon. Right now, I am sitting with my memories.

I did make the journey to Iona, I sat in Saint Oran's Chapel. My heart becomes so full with the thought of being there. I sat in silence, with only the howling wind and the rain.

Iona on a clear day, November, 2010.

I look at these pictures, the shores of a fairly isolated beach, green marble pebbles, the water, so very blue. As I walked Iona, felt the sand under my feet, there seemed to be no trace of the blood of the monks spilled there. But, I couldn't staring out across the water, wondering what it must have been like to see Viking ships on the water approaching the shore.

Iona . . . some of the oldest rocks on Earth are here. . .


My mind now flashes to the coastal waters I know very well. Coastal waters now bathed in crude oil. I am still in shock. I see the oil pouring through the gash in Mother's body. I see the oil pour from her like blood. She is in shock. I am also in shock.

This is a hard lesson. When the oil makes it to Florida, where I grew up, near where my father is buried, it will follow the nor'easter wind patterns, if they rise. These are the same, powerful winds that brought the slave ships to us, (or sank them). This is a physical AND a metaphysical disaster, and like my Granny used to say, "Goodbye ain't always gone. . . " We must reconcile the past, as the Vikings and the monks did on Iona. It took 1,000 years, but the water is washed clean of blood. The waters there are restored.

To hear the head of British Petroleum say that, "the environmental damage will be minimal" does not take into account the the past, the future, or anything else. We're ALL in it now-- and we're going to learn from this, hold ourselves accountable, because we all have something to do with this hunger for oil. An extreme learning curve up ahead.


I need courage. Courage to continue . . .

Spring has arrived

Hello my friends,

So many starts and stops.
I have been growing, living, trusting, running. . .

November 2009 I made it to Iona. Three busses, two ferries, and a mile walk in the dark to my deserted but lovely hostel. I spent four days on the island, in driving rain, surrounded by my thoughts. The silence, the relentless amounts of peace that such a level of silence can bring. I got to spend some time in Saint Oran's Chapel, and I'll never forget that time of communion. I'll upload some pics in my upcoming posts.

Also, in the month of November, my father died. It's a long story. He was dying as I sat in Saint Oran's Chapel, unbeknownst to me. I said prayers for my father, and my family, on both sides of the divide. I was not able to be with my father when he left this earth, but I did spend time with in on Iona. I am so grateful for that.

More to come.