Gratitude Monday - Crystal Clear Edition

Today I am grateful for a number of things, including the reminder to make offerings to the Wee Folk.

Here's what happened:

Last week on Facebook friend Virginia Lee shared a post from the Fae Propaganda Department. It made me smile and intrigued me to find out more on its page.

I did, and in the course of it read comments including one from a woman who said when things went missing in her former home she'd have to put an offering of chocolate on top of the refrigerator. The missing item was found about a half-hour later.

This nibbled at my mind. I'd been looking for a quartz crystal to put back on my computer desk. I'd swapped it out for another a few months earlier as it needed to be cleansed and recharged. I knew where I'd put it to recharge. It wasn't there.

This sent me on a hunt to all the likely places, then the unlikely places, and then the likely places again with a few stops at where it ought to be.

So when I read the comment I thought I'd try it. It's always good to provide a little something for the Wee Folk when they are about. Things going missing can be an indication of that.

I considered briefly what to offer, but chocolate was on my mind. I briefly considered not putting out my favourite, but that is wrong on every level. One must give one's best. The Wee Folk know when it isn't.

My favourite chocolate is Lindt Mint. It has gotten expensive so I am careful about how often I have it. There was no question in my mind. Lindt Mint or I shouldn't even bother.

I took a square of it, wrapped it in wax paper, and set it on top of the refrigerator.  I don't think the site is mandatory, but it was in my mind so that is what I did.

About two hours later I looked again at where the crystal ought to be. Then turned around and looked between the TV screen and sound bar.

There it was. And I even thought I remembered putting it there.

 I'd seen this location many times for a variety of reasons over the past month or two. My eyes had swept over this location many times during the search.

And that's not all.

The next day I reached into my sock drawer and drew out a lone black sock. I have two other  pair from a set of three pair I bought together. One sock of one pair had been missing for more than a year. But on this occasion I reached in again toward the back and pulled out a second single black sock of the same make and model.

The other two pair from the set were accounted for. This was the missing sock.

I said thank you and found myself quite tickled over the events.

A few other things have come about for us since I put out the offering. Another one specific to me was the other day in Sobeys as I was grocery shopping I found Lindt chocolate bars, including mint, on sale for $3 each,

I am grateful for all of these including to VL for putting me on to the Fae Propaganda Department. It is even helping me with a rewrite of an old manuscript.

It might be a good idea to offer a little something to the Wee Folk, whether anything is missing or not. It certainly can't hurt.

Gratitude Monday--What The Bunny Brought

Today is Easter Monday and I see by the calendar that it is not marked as a holiday any longer.
It may still be considered so by some business, but it will escape most notice as most things are closed anyway.
What it does do is give us a chance to quietly reflect, if we wish, on what's happened, how the world has changed, and which changes are likely to stick.
I have no idea what will last and what will revert. I'm open to waiting and seeing.

What I can say is the the Easter Bunny brought a quiet enough weekend that the birds seem louder and can be heard from farther away. Without constant traffic to muffle their song they pierce the silence in a manner that is so uncommon as to border the unsettling.
The chickadees sound happier and I have heard a merlin call twice now in the past few days. The other morning it seemed like it was several blocks to the north. In the past I doubt I would have heard it.
We see wildlife roaming in cities. We will probably seem more plants growing because we aren't walking on them. We're already seeing clearer air and water.
The Bunny brought a reminder that given the opportunity Nature will reclaim what it lost.
I hope we learn the lesson well.

Why We Do It

"Reality is what I say it is. Do you hear me?" The project boss looked down the bump slits on his face toward the subordinate. "Do you?"

"It's hard to define reality," A. argued. "There is no one reality. On that planet, like everyone on it, there are different versions of it."

"You know that, and I know that, and everyone else on board knows it, but," he swiveled around in his floor glider and fixed his amygdaline eyes somewhere past the subordinate's face. "But they don't know it. And it is best if they don't figure it out for several more generations."

"That's your story, boss. I think they are ready."

"Reality there is a group agreement they work with. It is best for them in their puny excuse for development. Anything else is more than the majority can handle. Now get back to work. There's a sample couple in the north quadrant who are asking uncomfortable questions. Deal with it."

"Deal with it, boss?"

"Shut them up. Or feed some confusing blather into their minds. Make it real enough to be almost believable."

"You mean set them up to fail?"

"I mean set them up with a nonsense version of the truth. We're not ready to be known."

"I don't see what purpose that serves."

"If you want something, you think about it. Or they do. What they don't understand is the corollary; if you don't want something, you think about how much you don't want it. The Universe makes no distinction. You get what you think about."

"I understand that, but, oh, I see. They'll think about us. It's preparatory. Sneaky, but it will work."

"That's why we do it."

A Light Bulb Moment

The lounge quickly became the meeting area not just for the subordinates, but for actual meetings. The boss said it was easier that way. Less formal.

"I've heard the questions and I comprehend why you are worried. It's the whole forgetting thing you have to do. What happens if I forget too well?

"Nothing, that's what. Both meanings, too. Either enough of you forget so well that the wake up encoding is ignored and then nothing happens this round. Or you go along in your lives, wake up as designed, and the world changes. That means, nothing is wrong. Nothing bad happened. "

B. piped up from the middle of the lounge chairs. "So no matter how much we 'go local' it's all right? We're going in to disarm them in the good way. Change up the mess they made and get  them back on the path that fear lured them away from yet no matter if we fail or succeed it's all right? You can see why this might be confusing."

"I can and it is. The point is the world you're entering must be entirely your world until you, that is, it, is ready. The way down there must be your second nature. You need to live among them in their way, like I've told you, before you can see why it has to change. It takes one to change one, as it might be said."

More murmuring from the crowd. The boss relaxed a little. "Like the joke down there goes, how many people does it take to change a light bulb?"

They waited. No one asked.

"Only one, but the light has to want to change."

Polite nodding followed by laughter followed by lost looks of confusion.

"Be the light that wants to change."

Courage

"Come child, let me take you out and away for a while. It'll remind you what you're doing this for. And it will give you courage."

"Courage, grandma? Don't I have it already?

"Of course you do, child. This will remind you of it, and of the truth. That tends to be forgotten later on. This way, when you think of the things you'll be thinking about, you'll see what you're thinking about."

"Grandma, you're confusing me. Can't we stay here? I like it next to you. I want to hear more about my triggers and what I'm to do with them when they're pulled."

"We'll be back, love. This is what you've asked me to do. You've forgotten that you arranged this."

I didn't remember that at all. What I did remember was how warm and safe it was next to her and I sure didn't want anything to stop that. "Maybe we could just have a summer scene?"

The thin creature beside me laughed a gently, almost tinkling laugh. I hardly ever heard her laugh. When I did it made me feel so happy like a warm cover over me keeping away the plans I'd made, the experiences I'd selected, and the very possible ostracizing I'd face.

"We'll use any scene you wish, child. After we get back."

We whooshed away. Out of the cocoon and past the sky out to the cosmos and beyond. We kept going, kept whooshing until all the stars and planets melted into one great light. We rolled and soared and rolled some more as great wells of energy rose up through us and around us until eventually if we'd been breathing, we'd have been breathless.

The scene around me was astounding. Familiar in one sense and completely foreign in another. I felt like a five year old and an adult as the two consciousness inside me fought for supremacy. Fought to see who was the most moved.

I relaxed. Child me, in her wonder, won. "Grandma, what is this place? It's so beautiful."

Lights burst and twinkled in a deep blue while lights in orange and yellow and purple and the other colours, the ones beyond the spectrum that earth eyes can't see, danced around us to the music that surrounded them.

"Can you hear it, child? Use your inner ear."

The knowing, the contact, the long golden cord that connects everything with everyone at every time. Where was it? Did I still have it? Adult me worried while child me took over again.
"I hear it. I hear it. The high hum. Oh, it's so beautiful. I don't want to ever leave."

"This is what you keep inside you, child. This is what connects you. It is what gives you courage when the darkness of youth and ignorance try to shut you down and force you to live within its comfortable limitations."

Lights streaked by. A great well of energy and love flowed through me, illuminating my body and beside me, grandma's body became incandescent.

"Look, child," and she pointed finger toward a small dot of light so far away. "Remember that. In the great scope of infinity, remember that. It will reinforce your courage. You know what courage is?"

"Tell me, grandma."

"It's the thing you do when your mind tells you not to, but you know it's right so you do it anyway. Will you remember that, child? It'll be the message in your heart that says do it anyway."

"Will I hear this when I do? I want to."

She didn't say anything. Instead she reached for my hand and we were back in the cozy place and it was raining outside. A glorious downpour with rivers cascading off the ends of the roof.

"I'll remember, grandma."

"I know you will, child."