A Smilin' First Day Out

What a day! I woke up to with the memory of three dreams. The last segment was a dream with a horse I love named Mocha. I was watching Mocha rolling in the dirt near a stable with a much longer black and flowing mane than he has currently dancing around him, and he did a somersault! When I first saw him contorting his body for the maneuver I was concerned he might hurt himself. But not a chance. Mocha was in bliss. I should preface this dream by saying that in these last few months, I’ve been connecting with horses in a remarkable way. I’ve been spending time with two herds, and horses come in my dreams almost every night. These experiences have broadened my perception immeasurably, especially regarding the capability and awareness of our precious land whales, and their service the humanity. In fact, I read recently that horses, along with dogs and cats, are reputed to be one of three species that followed us “out of Oneness” (i.e., when we chose to dream of what it would be like to not know ourselves as Perfect Oneness), to serve when our desire came to restore our Divine memory. After experiences these past months, and with Simon for 10 years, I believe it.

I also dreamt of driving with, and then being at a party with, a celebrity couple. One part of the couple was beautiful and appeared quite content and present. The other part? Stone drunk and belligerent. Not a happy camper, and uncaring of their affect on anyone around them. A being still beautiful, but Self forgotten. One possible analysis? One symbolized Divine Mind. The other? Not adhering to their heart’s intuition.

In the third dream segment, I was walking alone along a roadway of an other-worldly feeling city made of stone. The stones of the city were shaped like bricks, but they felt far more ancient and smooth. And neutral in tone. All structures, buildings and walkways and roadways, were made of this same stone formed into rectangles. There was a lovely black woman getting out of a nice and shining vehicle, something like a black Rolls Royce of the British taxi cab sort. She was about to enter a building that felt like both a church and a restaurant that was familiar to me, though I cannot recall being inside the structure. I told the woman it was a good place to go. Then, I carried on walking, and there was a narrow pathway above the main road that felt more nature-like, the stone brick faded into a dirt pathway. I think I chose to take the path, though I didn’t know where it led. Hmmmmm….sounds familiar!

Back to the travels of the day…The Snoqualmie mountain pass report said wet and clear roads with fog patches east of the pass. Highly drivable without the traction tires required in recent days, so Simon and I headed out from Jeff’s at 10:00 AM. Goodbyes are poopie, but sweet. Poopie because I cannot take cherished souls with me, and because I have no idea when the next cribbage or backgammon game will occur. Sweet because everyone is with me already and always.

The day was filled the usual ubiquitous flow of license plates bearing the number 22. For years, I have seen this number everywhere in one form or another 22, or 229, 922, 226, 224, 223, 222, 221, 220, etc. And, not just on license plates. It’s all over almost every day. And I’m never, or at least rarely, looking for it. It catches my eye as cars pass by or pull in front of me, or at stoplights. I see it on clocks, and as the only mileposts I notice for hours, on pieces of mail, in advertisements, in telephone numbers. It is as though the number 22 magnetically draws my eye. I interpret the number as the angels saying all is well.

At a rest stop for Simon ball playing and other stuff, I decided to text an east coast dwelling friend and A Course in Miracles compatriot. I texted “U R Love” unsigned. The reply said, “Thanks! Who are you?” I looked at the origin of the message, and it said Elke, not Donna, the friend I thought I had texted. I laughed, knowing there are no mistakes, and texted back “Laura Bedford :O}” - with the smiley face. Elke called me right back. After a bit of cell phone signal mayhem, we connected, and she told me an incredible story a bit of drama she’d been experiencing. Her debit card had been compromised, and she’d been going through the lovely motions of sorting things out. Apparently she had just said to herself “It’s a good thing I know I am Love” (or something to that effect). As she was having this thought my text message arrived! We talked and laughed together for a bit. Then, Elke called me back about 10 minutes later even more excited and stunned. After we had hung up, someone she didn’t know, who’s life she had unknowingly touched deeply, came up to her and told her she had literally helped saved their life during a very dark time. Then she got into her car where a song was playing all about only Love being real. (Please note, Elke could tell this story more precisely, but the gist was this amazing string of U R Love events this afternoon! And I was given the blessing of being an unwitting conduit.)

Then, I witnessed a gorgeous doe bounding through the snow.

Later on, I came upon a car with a young man clearly waving for help. My immediate response was to turn on my right blinker and slow Pegasus (my noble steed of a truck). Then the ole fear thought showed up, so, though I slowed down, I passed him by. But, as Source would have it, I couldn’t help stopping, and so had some distance to back up! I suppose I’m highly sensitive to such calls, knowing it could be me waving for assistance. I did a double take, almost pulling away, when, after I stopped, the man reached back into his car and looked to put something in his pocket and then pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt. In response, I locked my doors, and rolled down the window, prepared for a fast getaway. Turns out it was a wonderful, lovely young couple, both originally from Russia, traveling to explore their new hometown. V was just hired to a new position, he was showing his wife where they would be living. They had run out of gas. I was bursting with happiness. I loved that I didn’t need mechanical skills to be of assistance, and, most of all, I love Russians! Always have. Alexander Solzhenitsyn was like my all-time favorite author as a young girl. Yep, a midwest pre-teen consumed with a thirst for knowledge about the gulag and Cancer Wards in the Soviet Union! I loved the idea of all things Russian, and the depth of the Russian soul. I would fantasize about living in a tiny apartment, studying and discussing things of import with loads of people around, lots of love, and while resources would clearly be scarce, all that was available would be shared with all with love. I would eventually major in political science, with an emphasis in Russian studies. The only reason I didn’t study in St. Petersburg (Leningrad when I was in school) was because I didn’t want to work as hard as was necessary to learn the Russian language. But, I couldn’t get enough of writing the Cyrillic alphabet, or spending the five minutes it took to say numbers like 1983 in Russian. Word meanings and forming sentences were far less interesting to me than forming the beautiful letters. Ancient fantasies and long forgotten memories were awakened this wintry day of 2009.

V, R and I cleared out my overstuffed passenger seat for R, and V piled in the backseat with shaking Simon for a trek to the nearest petrol stand. Along the way, R and I asked each other lots of questions. I ended up talking a lot since she was an exceptional interviewer. I get so excited when I meet new people and we embark on adventure, I can barely stand it! We exchanged emails, so perhaps I’ll be able to learn more of her story. I loved when R said something to the effect that there are no accidents. She also asked almost immediately if I was a Christian. I said I wasn’t so much into organized religion because of the misunderstood sin, fear, guilt, judgment thingy, but that I was a major Jesus freak - the Love Dude - and pulled out a gorgeous drawing I have of the Ancient Man holding a glowing golden globe in front of His Heart. I said we share the same message…that we are whole, innocent and perfect and nothin’ else, and we’re merely dreamin’ up all the other goop, and that the guilt and judgment devices keep the dream intact, and that we dreamin’ “elves” can wake up anytime we decide to only love and overlook all sleepin’ error, no matter what, even if weez walkin’ away from this or that error. Oh, you know how I can go on about such things. And create even longer sentences. Turns out they’ve done some missionary work!

The evening closed at a great little motel in Moses Lake, WA called Lakeshore Resort and Motel. On the shores of…you guessed it….Moses Lake (or at least I would imagine that’s the lake’s name). I highly recommend it if you’re in the neighborhood. A perfect traveling rate, and keenly friendly. After check-in, a dear sister-of-my-heart Sue called, and we had a transformational conversation to top off an already wondrous day.

Simon is ready to sleep, or at least get lots of tummy scratches, and this posting turned out to be a whole lot longer than I expected it to be. You are starlight. Hopin’ your days are filled only with beauty and wonder and abundance! Blessings Eternal!

Reminding myself that I am not the Do'er (Thank God!)

Greetings!

I hope this report finds you smiling in gratitude for You!

I spent the day packing up my truck and taking care of few more logistics. I've been feeling extreme gratitude for friends who are willing to assist with the more worldly things...like forwarding stranded mail, and helping me hoist the cargo carrier on top of Pegasus (Simon's and my sacred white horse chariot), and a few sweet dinners and games of cribbage and backgammon. Speaking of horses, also known to me as landwhales, I spent a few hours at Animals as Natural Therapy with their perfect horse herd. I am madly in love with the herd (and all herds), and have a special relationship with a sweet Arabian gelding named Mocha. Wouldn't you know this Lover of Chocolate and Coffee would end up in a love affair with a horse named Mocha. (Simon's not jealous as I think the three of us have been companions before. And besides, both of these guys know all about Oneness, and keep trying to remind me :O)

So, as you have probably surmised, I remain in Bellingham for the moment. Reason. Mountain pass reports urge caution and traction tires on slushy, icy roads. Snow levels are hovering around 4500', but rain is predicted beginning tomorrow (Thursday) evening, so departure is imminent. In Bellingham, we're finally back to balmy temps after a long cold spell. This latest warming due to a tropical flow from the south.

So, not that you're wondering or anything, but, just in case, here's what's up on Laura's quest of quests. The lesson I'm hearing a lot at the moment is to remember to rest my mind A LOT. And, to remember I am not the Do'er, except of my confused mind. And to NOT feel guilty when I forget to remember all this stuff, but just to return to Love's sanity as often as I remember.

I am learning yet again, that "I am not the Do'er" is a sweet and gentle reminder to never not trust the inner prompt. And, to remember that I am always safe and provided for no matter what happens, and that I am not separate from anything. Anything at all. Holy, holy, holy. The world in my mind sure does have other ideas about that one sometimes!!!

I embark, as usual, with heartfelt peace and joy mixed with false trepidation. Ah the non-dual, but appearing dual, existence of the impossible dream! I continue strengthening my determination to fall even more totally in love with Love (and that's everything), whilst releasing the fear of it within my mind! What a journey! Like, dude man, why couldn't I have chosen a treasure hunt for a lost tomb in Egypt or Mexico or exploring a coral reef off some tropical isle, or spending my time staring in the sky waiting to see the super nova I am sure will occur within my lifetime. No! I go for the Big Kahuna of Awakening!

'ceppin ain't no regrets. I love this journey. (And if I feel an inner prompt, I could do those other things, too. Time is Love, and Love is Time after all.)

As Love would have it, this evening, while having a moment of feeling more false trepidation than peace in (appearing to) leave that which I love (dear friends and horses and landscapes of northwesty clouds, the play of light, water, islands, mountains and trees and valleys and...and...and), I received enormous comfort when I discovered the following gem on Regina Dawn Akers' website (Regina scribed Holy Spirit's Interpretation of the New Testament). Reading what follows led to a deep, cleansing breath. Check out this Single, Quiet Thought from Holy Spirit.

The spiritual path
is a path of knowing
one step at a time
as knowing is revealed.
Therefore the spiritual path
is also a path of not-knowing.

One who knows
with the proud, proud mind
is not open to revealing.

Revealed-knowing
without mind-knowing
is the unfolding of the spiritual path.


Gotta love synchronicity! By the way, here's Regina's website if you're ever looking for more gems and an exquisite library of teaching recordings that are manna from Heaven for the mistaken, confused mind: http://reginadawnakers.com)

Thanks for checking in!

TAKE VERY GOOD CARE & SWEET DREAMS!

Message for my snoozin' self: I pray without ceasing

“Eeeegads!,” as my Gram always says! As I prepare to head eastward across the continent through blustery winter weather, I am reminded to watch my mind closely and to remember "I pray without ceasing." (ref: A Course in Miracles, Song of Prayer).

It ain't called "Homework" for nothing that's fer sure! Especially since I am to remember that every single deeply felt thought-feeling, conscious or unconscious is quite literally a prayer. This is what you're saying, right Gram? Now I get why teachers use gold stars, even when assignments were sometimes confusing and hard to grade. They have amnesia just like me, so they didn't understand the original assignment either.

Holy Divine Undoing of Crap! This is all just like my lion pooping dream the other night! So I guess I just keep trying to remember that each of my deeply felt prayer-thought-feelings (PTFs for short from now on...) is literally causing a manifestation into form, and that this is the law of attraction fully understood. I am learning that I must never forget that war in the world is a result of my very own misaligned PTFs. Woah! Just as beauty in form is the manifestation of my loving PTFs. (I like that idea much better.) So, you're telling me that PTFs are exactly and only why the world appears in the way it appears. Peace and pain. Peace and pain. Peace and pain. The whole bloody, happy and unhappy dream! Right on dude.

So let me get this another way. I am to remember that, without exception, we are ONE MIND having ONE SHARED EXPERIENCE, and that is why a single tree or a mountain or a plate of hummus is seen by all eyes, because there is actually only One Eye. And, it's a Perfect Eye. And, you're telling me the-mean-kind-of-eye doesn't exist except within my very own dreamin' mind, like Sauron in Lord of the Rings. And, that my buying into the Sauron-mean-eye as being outside me causes the appearance of the mean eye to appear manifest within the dream, and lots of bloody, painful battles to (appear to) occur. You're telling me my very own projections of guilt and judgment are causing this!

Hmmmm...that's going to go over real well in some circles, and not so great in others. People have been evicted from their bodies for saying such things. A few vivid stories come immediately to mind. Yet, you're saying this is why it is profoundly important to witness my PTFs, and to identify those that are not peaceful in any way, and that this information is worth the "risk" of sharing, so that those with the ears to hear (hopefully me), will one day hear well enough.

I get it. I really do get it. PTFs that are not peaceful literally keep the impossible dream of pain and suffering intact. So, when I feel fear or dread or guilt, or any other such feeling inside the body, or think a deeply felt thought against anyone, including myself, and even if I cannot find words to associate with powerful sensations inside the body, I am to immediately turn the PTF over to Divine Love for healing rather than feed my ego’s resistance to healing the PTF of its misalignment. Cool. Then, I am to rest, accept and trust whatever happens, even if I'm a little perplexed by what happens next. Okay.

Thanks...You Know Who...for never stop reminding me. And, as always, I am to return inward to my heart, which will always guide well and true, even if the guidance causes me and/or others discomfort for a time. And, of course, if I forget to pay attention to my PTFs, I am not to worry and to remember the following:

Nothing real
can be threatened.
Nothing unreal exists.
Herein lies the
peace of God.
(A Course in Miracles)

In other words, the Holy Undoing of Crap Inside of Me wants forgetful me to know that I merely delay my awakening when I forget to do the process above. Since, duh, that which God created cannot truly be harmed since I am not actually a body, and, therefore, cannot be killed! Thank you Jesus for taking on that teaching lesson. You're braver than I. (Incidentally, the Holy Undoing of Crap Inside of Me doesn't really care all that much if I call "The Big Love" by such a name as long as I get the message...and, most especially, as long as I don't feel guilty about it.)

So, to recap for my snoozing, forgetful self, as much as I can remember, I am to NOT pile more guilt on myself or on anyone else when I forget to watch my PTFs, or if "others" appear frustrated with me. I am merely to do my Homework to the best of my ability in order to get Home.

I must admit, not piling on guilt sure does seem to help me feel better and kinder, and to have a happier dream in the meantime.

The end. Okay, not really, not quite yet. Rather, it is yet another sweet now moment of willingness to remember I never left paradise.


Huge adventuring smiles!

The Pink Sky Kid

Until some young age, I, Laura Renee Bedford, Midwest kid with frizzy blonde hair, experienced the sky as pink. I do not know exactly how old I was when the sky changed color, but I remember trying desperately to understand what had happened, and I remember staring into the sky waiting for it to change back from blue to pink. When I asked my dad about this turn of events, and then inquired with others, it was obvious that no one else had been seeing a pink sky. This was somewhat unsettling. “What else weren’t they seeing properly,” I wondered, as only a child can wonder.

About twenty-two linear years after the sky incident, while living at a yoga center based around the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda, another resident and I were preparing dinner, talking about “God.” My friend echoed the words of a long-departed teacher, “This is the most dead we ever get.” In that moment, the world dissolved. A palpation of liberation passed through my body. I exhaled enormously and unconsciously, an instinctive, volcanically cleansing release. Upon hearing those eight simple words--that I would come to realize later freak out most people--I was stunned to my core with recognition. It was as if I had been waiting for this confirmation for a very long time, and I celebrated with a grin.

For my whole life, an inner smile has come easy to me. Yet, just as easily, between gleeful bouts, have come intensely soulful pleadings for God to come and get me. Right now.

God hasn’t come to get me. Not in the way I expected anyway. And now I know why. This is my story of learning how to remember it was I who chose to forget God, but not really. I have always been at home and simply dreaming.

It is an honest tale. I don’t say it’s true, only because only the Truth is true, and I don’t remember, at least entirely, what Truth is, but I do know this much. I know the Truth is Perfect Love.

Can We Pause the Game?

“Can we pause the game? I have to go potty.” My three-year-old nephew said it during our game of Chutes & Ladders. When he issued his game pausing request, I froze, dumb struck. He repeated his request. Auntie Laura regained her composure, smiled deeply and said "of course, of course!" And off he went. His softly spoken words had stirred the deepest recesses of my soul. At first I couldn't identify the gold, then it came. “Can we pause the game? I have to go potty,” is the story of my search for Truth.

To elaborate...

When I turned 29 the axis of my world tilted. An early mid-life crisis? The proverbial astrological “Saturn returns?” (For the astrologically disinclined, Saturn is a planet that takes approximately 29 years to return to the same place within one's birth chart, and this planet is considered the taskmaster of one's life.) Numerologists might say I was transitioning from my youth phase into my power phase that takes place in one's late 20's.

In many ways, at 29, I should have been happy by any western definition of "success," yet I could no longer deny or manage an internal longing for something far, far more that was now manifesting as growing discontent, and a return to the questions of my childhood. It was time for a quest of a different sort...to explore the ultimate paradox: why fear and suffering and brutality existed in a world where such experiences should be impossible if God was real.

At 29, I needed to pause the game. I needed a potty break.

That was 1992. Now, at age 46, the quest has deepened and lightened immeasurably. Yet, there is more to be done in remembering there is nothing at all to be done.