What the Angels Want Me to Know

I told Carla about the angels I heard singing. (See previous post.)  

“Mom, they are definitely trying to reach you. What do you think they are trying to tell you?” 

“I don’t know,” I said. 

“Just be aware.  Don’t try too hard.  Let it come.  You’ll find out,” my 17-year old said.

So I have some maestros, or teachers, and they are trying to tell me something with supernantural signs.  Why me, and what could it be?  I am not gifted with extra abilities like my daughter.  What am I supposed to be doing with the regular abilities I have?  Or learning? Or understanding?

Maybe the answer is in my dreams.  They’ve been vivid lately, and full of detail.  Like the lady riding a white horse around and around in a circular arena. She had very long hair and was very competent on the horse.  She was standing on its back with her arms spread as the horse galloped.  She was naked but there was no shame to it.  My girls did this – volting - years ago when they were learning to ride.  The gal in the dream was very confident and I had the feeling of wanting my kids to see her.  Here’s what one dream interpretation site said:

To dream of a white horse signifies purity and good fortune. It indicates the image of a prince charming and his white horse coming to save the princess.

Horses symbolize strength, speed, and endurance. It also indicates having control over things and directing them towards your aim. 

To dream of a woman symbolizes love, nurture, caring, and passivity. It may represent your female side or your own mother.

I told my poet friend Fay about the angelic singing I’d heard the day before. 

“Angels are all around us,” Fay said. “I spoke to angels once through a medium.  They’re very bossy! My angel told me to get a pen and paper and write things down.  She said I would work in a store.  I thought,’ Me in a store?  I don’t think so.’”   We spoke in Garrison and Garrison book store in San Miguel.  She knew I saw the irony.  “And here I am, perfectly at home, surrounded by books.”

“Angels and spirits are trying to reach you because you are open.  And because you put a beautiful and honest work into the world,” Fay said. She gestured to my memoir, displayed on a Garrison and Garrison table.  Tears formed in my eyes.

Earlier that day a friend who’d lived in San Miguel when our kids were little, came into the spa to buy a second copy of my book for a friend.  “Almost finished your book. Wow.” my friend, Carmen, said drolly. “You really put yourself out there.”  Her tone was part respect, part repulsion. 

I focus on a text I picked up on Facebook earlier in the week that I keep going back to.  It was written by a Mayan leader who wants the world to know that 2012 is not the end of the world at all, but a time of great change as our planet moves into the World of the Fifth Sun. 

At sunrise on December 21, 2012 for the first time in 26,000 years the Sun rises to conjunct the intersection of the Milky Way and the plane of the ecliptic. This cosmic cross is considered to be an embodiment of the Sacred Tree, The Tree of Life, a tree remembered in all the world's spiritual traditions. 

I love thinking that a giant cross will be formed across the galaxy on my youngest daughter’s 16^th birthday.  I go back and read a favorite line from the Mayan leader. 

The element of the Fifth Sun is celestial.

Angels Singing

When I first had my ankle pinched, Carlos said maybe it was Mary, since she died of cancer, telling me to get checked for cancer.  Getting a cancer check I could do!  It would be an hour or two, and then done.  OK, I’ll get more than one!  I’ll check my breasts, my uterus.  Or maybe I’m supposed to be getting to those nine Masses.  I’ll pay for 9 Masses!  Any task that has a time limit, that doesn’t mean a lifestyle change.  Meditation, sheesh.  Here I am writing instead. Yes, Resistance is my middle name. 

Meantime, a couple of mornings ago, over coffee, I was telling Carlos about a dream I’d had in which a dog, probably our dog, vomited and in the huge mess, several sizes bigger than the dog itself, that came out I realized there were mesh bags containing animals without hair and two kittens who desperately needed to be released from the bags, or born.

I began to hear a sound, and I interrupted the part of my story where I do manage to free the kitties and hairless animals. It was singing.  The voices were high and clear and pure like voices from a boys’ choir.  All I could think was celestial song.  I stood by my kitchen counter, thinking, I am listening to angels.  I held my hand in the air for minutes, listening.  

“Hear that?” I asked my husband.

“Yeah,” he said, with furrowed brow. 

And then the sound changed.  Its high pitch lowered, and I realized I was listening to a pack of dogs barking. 

Perhaps weirder things have happened in my life but I sure don’t know when.  Was I suggestible because I had just read the article about the lady who speaks to angels, and written about her?  Do I need my ears cleaned, my head screwed on straight?  Or was I hearing a message of love?