The Awakening!

Ice age map of europe, red: maximum limit of W...

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The blood in Ralphie’s veins, which had turned to ice during the winter, is slowly starting to thaw out. When I wrinkle my nose, the coat of rime that covered it, cracks and what resembles minute shards of a tiny mirror tumble downwards. The rest of this mirror that reflected a dark and dreary landscape drip-drops to the floor of my hibernation cave. A ray of sunlight temporarily blinds my eyes that smile in recognition. A sparrow drops in to twitter its hello, singing a song of “Come out to Play!” My bones that I dared not move even a fraction of an inch during the ice-age, for fear of their shattering, they were so brittle, soak up the warmth like a tree branch does its sap.

The brain-freeze makes way for stirrings from my multi-sensory imagination. Ralphie shakes himself like a wet dog, trying to rid himself of the torrid fleas of winter memories that continue to pester him. The smell of honey and jasmine is in the air. A warmed-up rock pool offers a wonderful tub-like receptacle for Ralphie’s aching sinews. He draws comfort from the ancient wisdom of the surrounding rocks. The fluttery languid rhythm of aquamarine butterfly wings beating percussion of the wind reminds him to move his eyelids once in a while. He feels like new-born baby that still has to learn how to take his first steps.

Company!!! The smell of fresh bread and divine coffee makes the pool overflow with Ralphie’s drooling. These smells would quicken even the dead! A half-ling nymph helps him dress and feeds him. An invigorating neck massage follows. Ralphie fills his lungs with what seems like liquid air that gives him a of floating on the mild breeze.From up high his roving eyes take in the splendours of the kaleidoscopic flora, filled with flitting critters that go about their daily activities. Hello world, thank the Mother that spring is here.It is such a joy to feel alive once again!

The inkwell beckons. Ralphie sharpens his pen and sits down to regale you with more of his past and present mind-travels. Let the fun and games begin! He might even take this earthly vessel, which is his body, on the road again. Because the wanderlust is getting stronger and stronger. Maybe the time has come to go roust his friend Nigel, the busker, from his wintry perch and entice him to travel together once more…


Portal Magick

There is something delightfully unexpected going on here.  Ever since I began writing on Ralphie’s Portal, (thank you Ralphie) I have been having the most beautiful dreams and inspirational awakenings. In the last couple of weeks, there have been several occasions in which artfully crafted  poems have lined up and formed themselves within my sleeping mind, I am reciting when I awaken. I can never remember the words of the poems, but, I can recall the feelings that they manifest within my spirit.  These poems are living energy, they touch my heart as  gentle “creative” embraces within the predawn purple darkness of my sleeping room.  They are very fleshy, like “baby” kisses from bee stung lips that are riding upon the wings of an enchanted sort of spiral consciousness.

This morning I saw a womans face for the first time, she was smiling as she handed me a paper that she intended for me to recite, although, we were not speaking in words, there was a sisterly, familial telepathic understanding between the two of us. We were standing together, in perfect love and perfect trust, knowing the “heart” of the other was a heart well acquainted with nurture and healing. There was no doubt in the universe that we were sharing, that there was only certainty, only “knowing.”

Her face was very real, her skin was smoth, delicately pale and dewy, her eyes were deep-set, bejeweled emeralds. They were wise eyes, she knew many things. She was not young or old, her hair was dark and straight, it brushed her narrow shoulders, she was wearing a plain, dark ritual robe, her face and hands were very clean. Her aura was the color of a deep green and gold forest, she reminded me of an evergreen tree. 

She was familiar to me. I had known her for at least a thousand years, she was a kind, “elder soul”  There was a sense of earnest knowing in her green eyes.  She and I were happily busy together.  We were in a busy room filled with interesting “beings” that I could sense, but, not see. There was a feeling of “waiting to begin”  One chubby woman was a playful, merry sort. When she moved, bells jingled and  there was merry, ringing laughter. 

I have never been one that was prone to dreaming, this is very interesting.  Waking from these dreams is like emerging from a warm bath at first, and then there is a feeling that washes over me, that lonely feeling I get when I  finish the best book that I have ever read and there is this sense of loss for a while, as if I am losing a dear friend that I will miss everyday for the rest of my life.