Image found on Google Images

It is funny. I began Yoga as a way to clear my mind, but also with the thought of learning to do the splits. I wanted a strong, controlled mind, but also a strong body without too much strain on my joints, hence something without weights, an activity I can do with my own body weight. My initial thought of learning the splits was on a physical level, until I learned the symbolism of Hanumanasana. Through the study of this posture, after 2 ½ years, I have come to understand the true meaning as to why I wanted to learn this pose. Lord Hanuman, ‘Monkey-King’, is said to be a great warrior, born from the wind. With his strong, elephant like legs, and with the guidance of the wind he was born from, he leaps over hills, mountains and rivers, removing obstacles in his path. He is a symbol of self-control, service and devotion to a cause, in disguise of a monkey – an animal of hyper energy and mischief. Hanuman is devoted to Rama, he whom he helped in the Battle of Lanka. Hanuman appeared to Rama in the time of disappear and destruction, and through his devotion and service, thought his high energy, strength and great leaps with assistance of the great winds, he helped Rama win the battle of ‘good and evil’, and to be reunited with his love, Sita.

‘Monkey-King’, the word, has been in my mind for sometime. I researched the world, and through the research I came across Lord Hanuman. An image of a statue with features of a monkey came to my mind, and I found the miniature statue online, but that particular image was sold out, so I bought a different figure of Hanuman, instead. With the find of this statue, my perspective of my current life situation changed, and the beginning of my ritual alter began. I imagined an alter with ‘spirit figurines’ for a few years now, and with ‘Monkey King’ as a central figure, my alter is in the process of creation. I even have an arrow necklace to place upon it, a symbol and connection to Rama that will surround the statue of Hanuman. I have a star pendent with a tiny diamond in its center, a guardian angel pendent too, to add to my alter, and a skull eraser that I used only once. I ordered a small pink baby in a baby carriage to symbolize my inner child that will be placed beside the monkey king. I have a pinky ring with two hands holding a heart, a symbol of love and togetherness, ‘helping hands’. With the alter creation, I felt a sense of release, a letting go of something old, to let in creative expression. To express my inner spirit eternally with images that have always been inside of me. My spirit alter is in its conception stage, ready to give birth to my spirit, my inner expression, the essence and creativity of ME.

P.S This insight came on the summer solstice, 06/21/17. I began 108 Sun Salutations (A), a symbol of the 108 Upanishads. I made it to 54 on the first day, did the next 54 the following day. I felt light and airy, calm, afterwards, and I still do. What a great way to start the summer.

P.S.S. My internship is ending. A new beginning is forming. I see a light at the end of this long, winding, tunnel of insecurity and fear. The end is near, it is near. I am nearly reborn. I will be ALIVE again.

P.S.S.S: I am Libra, my middle name is Ariel. I am balance and justice, and of the skies. No wonder Hanuman has greeted me, an ultimate symbol of the power of devotion, with the wind as his guide and strength. No wonder the whistle of the wind was my first post on this blog too. Hint hints. Wind, leaps, devotion. Peace and ❤

Native American Osage tribe: Wisdom of the Willow Tree

“We need to view it with a holistic perspective. In order to do that we need to work collectively so that we can become functional in a dysfunctional world.”

The wisdom of the willow still flows (9/12) ❤ ,

Featured image found on ‘s blog.

 Enjoy a tale about life, stated from a Willow. Click Hyper link to view:

The Wisdom of the Willow Tree

Some food for thought from Wikipedia on Osage nation. Of course Wikipedia isn’t a reliable source, but it may give you something to ponder anyhow. Also, for some true history on this tribe, view: Osage Nation

The Osage are descendants of cultures of indigenous peoples who had been in North America for thousands of years. Studies of their traditions and language show that they were part of a group of Dhegian-Siouan speaking people who lived in the Ohio River valley area, extending into present-day Kentucky. According to their own stories (common to other Dhegian-Siouan tribes, such as the Ponca, Omaha, Kaw and Quapaw), they migrated west as a result of war with the Iroquois and/or to reach more game.

Scholars are divided as to whether they think the Osage and other groups left before the Beaver Wars of the Iroquois.[6] Some believe that the Osage started migrating west as early as 1200 CE. They attribute their style of government to effects of the long years of war with invading Iroquois. After resettling west of the Mississippi River, the Osage were sometimes allied with the Illiniwek and sometimes competing with them, as that tribe was also driven west of Illinois by warfare with the powerful Iroquois.[7]

Eventually the Osage and other Dhegian-Siouan peoples reached their historic lands, likely developing and splitting into the above tribes in the course of the migration to the Great Plains. By 1673, when they were recorded by the French, many of the Osage had settled near the Osage River in the western part of present-day Missouri. They were recorded in 1690 as having adopted the horse (a valuable resource often acquired through raids on other tribes.) The desire to acquire more horses contributed to their trading with the French.[6] They attacked and defeated indigenous Caddo tribes to establish dominance in the Plains region by 1750, with control “over half or more of Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Kansas,” which they maintained for nearly 150 years.[7] They lived near the Missouri River. Together with the Kiowa, Comanche, and Apache, they dominated western Oklahoma. They also lived near the Quapaw and Caddo in Arkansas.

The Osage held high rank among the old hunting tribes of the Great Plains. From their traditional homes in the woodlands of present-day Missouri and Arkansas, the Osage would make semi-annual buffalo hunting forays into the Great Plains to the west. They also hunted deer, rabbit, and other wild game in the central and eastern parts of their domain. The women cultivated varieties of corn, squash, and other vegetables near their villages, which they processed for food. They also harvested and processed nuts and wild berries. In their years of transition, the Osage had cultural practices that had elements of the cultures of both Woodland Native Americans and the Great Plains peoples.

Letting Go: Out with the Old, in with the…. Old?

Model in featured image: Julia Falcin

Check out my article at Harness magazine, a snip-bit from this post from 2015.


Inside A Soul

“The angels whisper words in my ear,
Words I need to hear,
They tell me to let go with no fear”

The past few years have been, at times, challenging, but over all rewarding. I am finding who I want to be, and who I am from within is finally reflecting on the outside. I now have purpose, direction, and self-determination. Many of my dreams and visions of my future are coming to clarity, and this is primarily due to changing thought processes and patterns of behavior.

This past year especially, I have learned to de-clutter, both around my home and within myself. I have let go of some past pattern of behaviors, changed my eating habits slightly, and exercise more. I cleaned out the closets in my home, and donated a lot of clothes to Goodwill. I began journaling, too, about my thoughts and memories. Writing down memories that…

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Willow Rose, Chapter 5

“Hello, children, welcome back, on this glorious snowy day in January (1464). Settle down comfortably with your warm wool blankets and hot green tea, under this bare willow tree, and I will continue my tale from yesterday.”

Willow Rose waits while the small group of aspiring monks and nuns, ten young children, ages ranging from five years to ten years, sit before her.

“And so, later on, when the sun began to set behind the mountain top, I went into my room, stained my lips the color red with a stick of oily red substance I purchased from a group of women who worked out of a cart, with many jingling jewels and midriffs showing. I thought to myself, this red color upon my lips, will be very appealing and pretty for my new employment. Remember, children, I am still ignorant and young at this point in the tale, and figure everyone I meet is good and has good intentions.

“Once my lips were red, my clothes neat and tidy upon my figure, I was off to the theatre to meet the elderly lady and to find out what my new profession will be.

“‘Goodbye Mother and Father, I am off to my meeting,” I said joyfully as I made my way to the door.

“My father was still sitting in his chair by the window, and my mother exited the kitchen to say goodbye to me and good luck. Before she spoke, though, she gasped and placed her hand upon her chest, and was about to state, here I am assuming, for me to remove this red substance off my lips, but one stern glance from my father told her silently to keep her lips shut. So, instead of voicing an objection, she kept her lips tightly shut in a thin line, and nodded to me and waved, a silent motion of good faith and luck, and went back into the kitchen, a safe haven to her, but a place I like to avoid.”

The children giggle, because they know how Willow Rose’s noodles taste. The majority of the children present prefer the strange mushrooms growing in the courtyard than her crusty overcooked noodles, but they do not voice this to their mentor, for they respect her highly and enjoy her stories.

“My father than nodded to me in his silent, expressionless way, and stated ‘Good luck, then.’

“And off I went, exited my warm home into the chill of the evening. My spirit was high, full of unspoken possibilities and hopes for my future. I will soon be supporting myself. My parents will not have to worry about me any longer. Those were my thoughts as I made my way to the theatre, full of joy and innocent positivity.

“In time, before the moon was high in the sky, sky now a purple hue, I made it to the theatre. At its entrance I was greeted by the blacksmith who saw me just the other day. His wear is neat and clean, a white kimono and black hakama.

“‘Hello, young one, my you look lovely tonight. Okasan is in the dressing area of the theatre. Come, I will lead you there,’ said he with a pleasant smile. After those words he held his arm out for me to hold. I graciously accepted, and then was guided to the dressing room, pass the rows of seats partly full, as if people were arriving for a show, but the stage was bare.

“In the dressing room, sitting before a vanity with an obsidian mirror, was the elderly woman I saw yesterday, dressed in a royal blue kimono, with a white floral design, and matching hakama and obi, with a white collar around her neckline. She was beautiful to me, with fine lines around her lips and eyes, but the beauty of youth still in her soul shining through deep brown eyes. This is the one the man called Okasan, Mother. A name so familiar to me, for it reminded me of my own Mother, of security but strict discipline. I wondered, how will this Okasan be?

“She turned away from the vanity once her hair was wrapped neatly in a bun on top of her head. Her lips were in a thin line, and her gaze moved up and down, as she silently studied me.

“Come here, girl,” she spoke soft but firm, as she retrieved a long line of tweed from the inside of her obi.

“I slowly took the steps that led to be in front of her, my gaze directed at my feet as I hugged my arms around my chest.

“‘How old are you?’ she asked.

“15 years,’ was my simple response.

“She nodded. ‘Spread your arms wide as if you were a bird to take flight,’ said she as she stood up. I obeyed silently. She then proceeded to measure my arms, waist, and thighs. One eyebrow was lifted as she measured and lips perked up as she concentrated.

“‘You will do, your petite frame is perfect for what I have in mind. Your wear is just fine, too. You are my shikomi-san, and if you pass the schooling, you will be a maiko, and then one day a geisha. Come, the show will begin. You will soon see what it is to be a true geisha.” She then walked away, across the small room that held three vanities, and to a door that I did not notice before.

“I followed her, curious thoughts echoing in my mind, with many questions that I did not voice. A geisha? I have only heard tales of such women, some that relate to good morals and art, while others speak of bad morals and despicable behavior. Which tale is true?

“Through the door was the back of the stage, now dimly lit with lanterns, and before the closed curtains were placed three wooden armless chairs. The middle seat had a taiko placed before it.

“I stood beside Okasan, who remained standing with clasped hands before her hips. She let out one, tweet like whistle, and with that signal appeared a woman in elegant wear, but details of the wear were unclear, for there are only two lit lanterns behind the curtain, one on each far wall, creating shadows as the flames flickered. The woman appeared to seemingly out of nowhere, but I knew that was only an illusion, a door must have opened from the other side. The woman sat in the middle seat, and then appeared two other women, elegantly dressed with an instrument in hand. The woman who sat in the seat to the right placed a koto upon her lap, the one who sat to the left held a peculiar instrument that I learned later was called a pan’s flute, imported from Italy.

“Soon, the curtains were drawn, and the lantern lights shined upon the stage, helping me to view the three beauties clearly, and the view before me was magical.

“The young woman to the right had a taka shimada hair style and modest décor in her hair. Her face had a light layer of rice powder upon it. Around the eyes was a light layer of red dye. Her bottom lip was partly colored, top lip not colored. She wore a light yellow kimono and matching hakama with a red obi with white embroidery and matching collar. Upon her feet were okobos.

“The lady in the center was older, nearing middle age it seemed. Her hair style was a subushi shimada and she had no décor in her hair, nor make up upon her face, and her eyebrows were long, not short like the ladies sitting at her sides. Her kimono and matching hakama was a plain color of off white, and around her waist was a thin white obi, nearly blending in with the attire. Upon her feet were getas. She placed her palms upon the taiko and waited for the signal to begin.

“The woman seated to the left had a taka shimada hairstyle and no decorations in her hair. Her top lip was colored red, light layer of rice powder upon her skin, and a light shade of rose on her cheeks. She wore a plain off-white color obi with red fringe around the edges and a light pink kimono with matching hakama. In her hands was the peculiar pan’s flute. The women’s lips were perked, appearing like a flower bud.

“A flower bud, like you. A rose bud,” says one girl of the age of six with a giggle. The other children laugh at her pun.

Willow Rose smiles with humor at the children. “Yes, a bit like me. Now, let me continue,”

The children fall silent.

“The audience applaud as the curtains were drawn open, then were silent, waiting in anticipation for the performer to enter the stage. I felt the quiet excitement of the audience, because I too had the same curious excitement, ready to view how the performance will go.

“The lady with the taiko began a gentle rhythm, matching the beating of the humans’ hearts present in the room, a mesmerizing rhythm that drew you into another place. Then the Koto joins in, soon pan’s flute too. Now all were being played in unison, in a tune indescribable with words. The beat of the taiko, the light whistle of the pan’s flute, and the tinging of the Koto as it’s being plucked upon a young woman’s lap was enough to put joyful tears to your eyes, or possibly sad tears, depending how the music moved you.

“The curtain to the far left of the stage was slightly moved, as if a gentle breeze was present only in that spot. At first, no one was there, but soon an image did appear, as if out of nowhere, and that image was breathtaking and unforgettable to me.”

Two  of the children present shift in their seated positions, their bums sore from sitting for so long.

“The image was of a young woman dressed in an elaborate floral designed, bright pink kimono with matching hakama, a deep red obi with white floral design, tied in big a elaborate bow in back, and a taka shimada hairstyle with intricate décor of combs, beads, and cherry blossoms. She had one palm on her left hip, and in her right hand was a hand fan, fanned out, over her face, extenuating her elaborate hairstyle. Her eyes, that which were painted a strip of red over white powered face, was all that showed.

“She swayed her hips to the music and then began a dance, with hips swaying, feet lightly shuffling in okobos. As she moved she removed the fan from her face, showing lips perked like a flower bud, lips partly colored red. She fluttered her eyelashes momentarily, as her hips and arms waved gently. The long hanging sleeves created the illusion of a wave like breeze. A taiki, koto, and the pan’s flute were heard in the distance as this maiko danced. She did not speak, nor hum, nor sing, only danced, swayed her arms, and made subtle expressions with her eyes only, and kept her lips in a perked fashion. Her body, the way she swayed her arms, modestly swayed her head, and moved across the stage with a grace that takes years to master in such high, hard to balance in getas.

“Each time she came to the corner or edge of the stage she bowed in silent gratitude. One man in the center front row seat raised his hands momentarily above his head when she bowed before him. I noticed this man’s affectionate smile to the young woman dancing so elegantly, modestly, telling a story with her body of her home Koya, and how she came to be the woman present. From where I stood I could tell the man is wearing a yellow kimono, elegantly made; it must have been made of silk the way it shined in the dim light of the lanterns. He must have been a man of high class. In fact, all present appeared to be of higher caste. I wondered, what does this all mean to me? I only come from a modest background, a family of rice farmers and merchants, what good will I be here, to the people who appear high caste? And these women in their elaborate wear… how can I, of modest and humble wear and nature, fit in with such extravagance?

“The show ended, but my wonderment did not. The ladies exited the stage on opposite side, disappeared in a mysterious part of the theatre not in my sight, created the illusion of disappearing in thin air, a mysterious aura deepening the dramatic performance. The audience clapped in glee, the excitement of a great performance filled the air.

“Okasan took my arm and guided me back to the dressing area, where we sat alone once more. I told her of my thoughts, of my humble beginnings, and my curiosity of what it means to be a geisha, and the different paths I’ve heard of.

“She listened in silence to me. Once my worries were off my chest, she stated, ‘there are two paths one can walk on, child, and one path is good the other is bad. There is a middle path, chosen by a selected few, that tries to have a balance between the two paths, to blend it into one, to see past the perceived reality of social conditioning. But that middle path is not studied at my theatre, nor is the path of bad intentions. This school I run is not for the prostitutes or women of no discipline, faith, or education. I am a teacher, and I choose to instruct you on what it means to be a lady in Koya, and how to serve the gentlemen of the highest caste, and provide pleasant and clean entertainment. You may choose the path of good intentions, bad intentions, or the one I do not speak of, the middle way. One path you will have a mentor, me, and the others you will have to find direction on your own. It is up to you, the choice is always yours. So, decide dear one, which path would you like to tell your parents you will follow?

“And that is all for today, you will hear my response tomorrow.”

The children groaned as they left the sitting area before the willow tree, to rejoin the duties of the day.


Willow Rose, a character I had in a game called Renaissance Kingdoms. The game has three ‘kingdoms’ connected to the renaissance era: Europe, Japan, and Aztec. This character is Japanese, from Shogun Kingdoms. I connected the main role plays I had there, gathered them into a document, and a collection of tales were created. This is, Chapter one, of Willow Rose, an imaginative piece of me, who kept me sane in years of confusion (February 2007 to August 2016). I Have edit the post only a little, you may take note as I post the chapters, the improvement of my writing style. Stay tuned for more throughout the year, one chapter per month. Enjoy. Further tales will include my other characters, Arial de Grey and High Priestess.

Dream Journal Entry 11: Dialectical Discussion in Dreams

Collective works – C.G. Jung

During the process … the dialectical discussion leads logically to a meeting between the [individual] and his shadow the dark half of the psyche which we invariably get rid by means of projection: either by burdening our neighbors with all the faults which we obviously have ourselves, or the casting our sign upon a divine mediator with the aid of contrito or the milder attrition.

Contrito – is “perfect” repentance; attrito – is “imperfect” repentance. The former regards sin as the opposite of the highest good; the latter rejects in not only on accounting mocked and hideous nature but also from fear of punishment.

7.28.2011: I am recalling a dream I wrote down over a year ago. I’ll transfer the exact words here: 2/4/10: Jasper (character from Twilight) was after me in this dream. I was at my dad’s house, I ran there. He followed and looked at me (from the side walk as I reached the door) as if I were his prey. He waited on the sidewalk, knowing I wouldn’t run for long. When I opened the door Alice was there, she smelt me and got that same look in her eyes as Jasper had, I was now both their prey. As she took a step forward I woke up, scared, but not scared to stay awake.

(I must have just watched one of the Twilight movies when I had this dream, lol)

Spirit Walks and Nature Talks, #4: Still Hunting

Log book – still hunting – entry 1 – experience time “20 mins” – 11:36 am – 11:50 am – 7.8.15

Saw: over 20 doves, 10 sparrows, 5 orange headed sparrows, and 2 humming birds, a yellow butterfly, tiny flying bug

Feeling: calm, unsure, drained but a releasing of tension, feeling of mind expanding

Doves: 1 male per 3 female, 1 male wooing a dove; hierarchy system, each dove had its place and feeding area; social but only with each other. Ignored the sparrows when feeding upon ground. One adolescent dove was ignored by adults. It stayed close to female, seemed nervous, trying to find a place to fit in.

Sparrows: social, skittish, curious, playful, feed in trees (higher ground) more so than on ground; doves are around rocks, using beaks to peck and find seed; sparrows stay where bare dirt reside, less rocks, and prefer the trees when feeding – dove feed upon ground; sparrows social and accepting of each other and appear less aggressive to their specie, compared to the dove. I feel dove may be an older species compared to the sparrow. Dove (larger) = move dove than sparrows – dove are dominant and possessive, sparrows are not. They can live in same area – co-exist together.

Trees move differently with the breeze based on it species (2 tree species I saw (Palm, fig, and 1 other I don’t know name of)

Fig – barely moved with breeze due to being smaller.

Palm – swayed in a fan like fashion, side to side

Other – moved in a dancing, wavy circle like fashion, but subtly; it is a playful species that greets all, good backyard tree.

Different species of flowers, plants, and trees move differently with the breeze

Check out Nature-Speak by Ted Andrews for more about connecting to your self through nature’s silent messages.

Willow Rose, Chapter 4

Days flutter by, on the wings of a butterfly


“I went out into the world with a fierce spirit, eager to please my father and make a woman of myself, to obtain a profession to create my own prosperity,” speaks Willow to the children gathered before her beneath the Willow tree, on the first day of the newest year.

“Each day, for 1 whole moon, my father gave me a few coins so I can purchase nourishment on my hunt for professional freedom. But instead of talking to professional individuals, who have mastered the different professions, I saved these coins to purchase a beautiful outfit, in hopes that my wear will attract the profession I so desired.

“So each day, for 30 days, I pocketed the coins my father gave me. I ventured out in the morning light, and came home in the evening glow, and each time my father would ask me in an eager tone, ‘What did you learn today?’ And each time I would respond with a light shrug, ‘Nothing new.’

“Days went by with this normality, robotic in its nature, but my father kept his faith in his Willow Rose.

“On the 30th day, I had enough coin to purchase the attire I so desired, the attire I wear to this day, for it has not worn out. The material seems to be made with magic threads of lace and velvet.”

Willow stands up before the children and does a short twirl so they can take in her attire which is: green sugegasa to keep the sun out of her eyes and off her fair skin, a green woman’s kimono, green hakama, and a pair of red chikatabis, and a red obi. The children gasp and giggle in delight. A small girl of age 4 states, “You look like a Geisha, a Willow Geisha.” The girl giggles at her light hearted joke, her cheeks turning a rosy red as she does so.

Willow smiles warmly at the child as she takes her former seat beneath the willow, for the child spoke a truth without realizing.

Willow continues her tale. “On the 30th evening I returned home. From the wooden rocking chair he sat at, with a linen sheet over his lap, his typical evening seat, my father raised his eyebrows with thin lined lips as he looked me up and down. But, for my father never spoke words of judgment, he uttered the familiar words, ‘Did you learn anything new today?’ And I responded my response with a light shrug, ‘Nothing new.’

“But the following day something special did happen. As I was strolling the streets of Koya, humming a happy tune in my new elegant wear, a man came up to me carrying a forging hammer, muscular arms sweaty from the morning’s work. His brows were furrowed.

“My heart began pounding in anxiety, for I have no idea why this man would look at me so. After a few silent moments the man spoke.

“‘Your music has disturbed my work,’” He said warmly, in a soft tone I was not expecting from a man with his physique.

“I let out a sigh of relief, and my tense shoulders relaxed. ‘Pardon me, sir, I am just humming a happy tune for this special day. Despite the chill in the air, the scent of Spring is here. I saw the first, tiny speck of green, beneath the willow tree last eve.’

“The man only nodded as he looked me up and down, ignoring my bantering. I went on, ‘I am looking for professional work, so that I can one day support myself. I am looking for the kind that will bring enjoyment to my heart and to those I hold dear. Do you know of one?’”

“The man smiled proudly, eager to hear my innocent words. ‘That is exactly what I came up to you about. Your attire and youthful appearance is perfect for a show of entertainment. Would you like a profession where you can be your beautiful self, in elegant wear, to perform and entertain the masses?’

“I smiled broadly to the man and said in an eager tone, ‘Oh yes, I would enjoy that so.’ I fluttered my eyelashes then at the man, not to be flirtatious, it’s just a tick I have when I am excited.

“The man smiled slyly, but course I was too innocent to notice, but his sly smile quickly faded into a friendly one. ‘My boss will fill you in on the details.’

“And so I was introduced to an elderly lady, who pinched my cheeks and bum, while examining my waist. She nodded in approval and stated, “You begin tonight, come here at this time,” and she gave me a slip of parchment with the address of our local theatre upon it.

The children looked at one another, some murmured to each other. Willow waits in patience for the children to turn their attention on to her once more. Soon, all were quiet, eager to hear more.

“I eagerly went home to my father, despite the fact it is only high noon. I ran up the mountain path, adrenaline running in my veins, ignoring the pain in my thighs from the strenuous fast paced hike.

“‘Father, Father!’ I shouted as I rushed through the open door of my family home, forgetting the time of day.

“‘Dear child why the shouting?’ my mother asked sternly as she wipes her hands off on the apron around her waist as she was exiting the kitchen area of our home. ‘And why are you home so early?’”

“I smiled broadly, and handed over her the address on the parchment. ‘A lady gave this to me, and stated to meet her at this address. This will be my new profession I feel.’

“My mother read the address, and knew immediately what it was, but said nothing. She looked at me with raised, furrowed brows, and stated, ‘Hmph, well. We will see what your father has to say about it. Now, run a long then. I am busy in the kitchen.

“And off I went to join my merry thoughts beneath the willow tree until my beloved father returned home.

“‘Father, Father!,” stated I as I ran up to him later that evening, barely giving him the chance to close the door behind him.

‘My Willow Rose, you are home early today. Did you learn anything new today?’ he asked me in a tired, hoarse tone. His eyes were droopy now that I recall, but at that moment my eyes were blind with naivety and wonder from the note I received today.

“I nodded my head happily and stated ‘I learned something new. A lady spoke to me. I feel this address is for my future profession.” And here I handed him the note with the address up on it.

“He was quiet for a long while, taking in the address of the theatre. In time he did say after a nod, “All will be well, then. You may go tonight,’ and handed me back the parchment before exiting the living area to change into evening wear.

“Now, little ones. The rest of the tale will be told tomorrow. Come on now, the sun is high, let us eat some udon and rice.” All the children, cheerfully chattering away, followed Willow Rose to the Shrine Temple to eat their midday meal.


Willow Rose, a character I had in a game called Renaissance Kingdoms. The game has three ‘kingdoms’ connected to the renaissance era: Europe, Japan, and Aztec. This character is Japanese, from Shogun Kingdoms. I connected the main role plays I had there, gathered them into a document, and a collection of tales were created. This is, Chapter one, of Willow Rose, an imaginative piece of me, who kept me sane in years of confusion (February 2007 to August 2016). I Have edit the post only a little, you may take note as I post the chapters, the improvement of my writing style. Stay tuned for more throughout the year, one chapter per month. Enjoy. Further tales will include my other characters, Arial de Grey and High Priestess.

Dream Journal 10: Hermetic philosophy

Collective works – Jung

Nor should it be taken for granted that dream sequences are subject to any governing principle. The process of development proves on closer inspection to be cyclic or spiral. We might draw a parallel between such spiral courses and the processes in planets: in fact the planet motive tree, flower, ect., frequently recurs in these dreams and fantasies and is also spontaneously drawn or painted. In alchemy the tree is the symbol of Hermetic philosophy.

A series of dreams which contain numerous symbols of the center or goal. The development of these symbols is almost the equivalent or a healing process. The center goal or justification signifies salvation. The justification of such comes from the dreams themselves, because these contain references to religious phenomena. These processes are concerned with the religious-creating archetypes.

[7.28.2011]I’m recalling another dream now, one I had say… some time last April, I am not sure. I am unsure how this dream began. I was being chased around town by a killer who was recently on the news. He is a rapist killer. He was a short fat man with a receding hairline. He dress up as a clown to lure his victims. I remember now, he was in my pantry in beginning of dream. I was in my kitchen. It was a clown then, I left the house, it started running down the street, scene then changed to a busy street in town. I crossed and entered a diner that we don’t have in town. I sat down at the bar. A waiter asked what I wanted. I said ‘nothing. I am hiding from a killer’. The man didn’t seem to believe me. Then the killer entered the diner, now out of his clown suit. The waiter apparently didn’t recognize the man from the TV, because he went up to the man and asked what he wanted. The man gave me a devilish grin. I got up and hurriedly left the restaurant and ran down the street. The man soon caught up to me. I was running but not fast enough. Scene changed to a hotel room the man took me to. I woke up before getting raped…