The Furious Spinner

Tonight I'm trying to clean up all my junk—and trying not to panic that I've got so much to do. Gotta get the rewrite of my novel out. Gotta finish the other book. Gotta, gotta, gotta. Gotta stop overdoing it.

Still can't talk. It's getting better, but I'm not going to talk tomorrow either, so I can really heal it. It's really rather liberating not talking And constricting at the same time. I hope it's warm tomorrow and not windy and I can sit out with my rosemary bush and listen and watch the swallows. And hummingbirds. Didn't see a single hummingbird today.

It's sprinkling out now. Nice gentle sound. Almost like the clouds are sighing. I used to call this kind of rain "cloud sweat." I hope it goes on for a little bit and cleans out the pollution in the gorge.

I should go to bed soon. As I was cleaning up, I found a letter from Linda. I hadn't lost it, but it was under some papers. Whenever I find something she had written to me, it feels as though she's giving me a message. Or like she's talking to me again. I don't know how to describe it. I just like it. Miss her. She would sometimes get "messages" for me as she was falling to sleep. I listened when she told me about them, but since I don't really believe in channeling—not that she would have ever called it that—I figured what she was hearing were just loving messages from herself to me, which was just fine with me. In the letter I found, written in 2001, she says she had a message for me or from me as she was falling to sleep: "You're going to the SW and you are happy, you have a drum and are wanting to or actually do dance naked in the moonlight, you have a lovely scarf or translucent cloth around your body...You actually smell the sage!" Of course all the time she knew me I couldn't smell a thing, so this was a wonderful message to get for me. She always said that something about the Southwest was like home to me. And she was right.

In another letter in the same envelope, she wrote, "In order to release yourself from the worry and fear you now feel, you must give up your expectations of events to come. These expectations appear real. Fear is: False Expectations Appearing Real. (Chuckles, giggles here LF)...You have 'forgotten to listen.' ."

The parenthetical asides were all hers, by the way.

Funny. I get this letter when I can't talk, so I have to listen. Well, I don't have to, but I'm trying to.

Thanks for the advice, my old sweetheart.

Labels: Linda

Posted by: Kim Antieau / 5/11/2007 09:44:00 PM

2 comments

2 Comments:

Linda was channeling all right -- straight from her heart. And she sends you the occasional reminder.

By  Kevin, at 8:44 PM  

Sister Kim Mermaid, methinks that Linda is still watching over you lovingly, although from a place beyond the fields we know. She sends you affectionate tokens and reminders when she knows you need them. BB, Cate

By  KerrdeLune (Cate), at 8:47 AM  

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