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  • The Artist Messenger: Clairvoyance Made Visible

Sam- A Spiritual Dream Speaks to the Artist

2/26/2015

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Whats been going on, not much and a lot. For one, love life is interesting and complicated. Its good to be with my Larry, the love of my life and my ex is also happy. Who knew both was possible? Devyn is happy that everyone is happy-- kids are not as complicated as we are. They just want security and joy. When it comes down to it, don't we all?

I had a dream about Sam a few months back. It was one of those dreams that stand out so much more than others that are sure to catch your attention with their reality and depth~ and this one definitely did, just as they planned. I say they because it seems there is a behind the scenes crew guiding me and giving hints and messages and even sometimes jokes. (yes, jokes.)

Sam was a racehorse, a huge one. He was black with some white in the middle of his forehead. I was a caretaker, one among many who worked at this training facility. Poor Sam was ignored and avoided by almost all traners, kept to an area by himself because of his temperamental nature. In the dream, I see this huge artwork sculpture of a creature and thought, “What a waste. All you need is to get that energy run out of you and you'll be fine. You're going to go crazy in here without any room to run.” I was the only one either brave enough or stupid enough to get into his area.

So, I gathered courage, his reins, saddle and snuck him out. The rest of the trainers were scared because I had this “loaded weapon” on reins and he was chomping at the bit. I made a deal with them that if I could get him to “keep me on”, that we would try his speed and see how he does and afterwards, I'd put him back no questions asked and the owners would be none the wiser.

So, we did. He went crazy, bolting out the gate so fast that I could barely hold on. After gathering my senses and getting a better grip, the speed was tremendous, as was the rush of flying on this massive animal's powerful back. When we jogged back to the timers, mouths were agape with wonder of his speed and realizations that he broke all previous records of the best racehorses on the premises.

The owners of the stables had come back early, so I rushed to put Sam back without cooling him down. Unbeknownst to me, they'd noticed his heavy breathing and thought that something was wrong with him and they trailored him up and took him to a vet. In their minds, he was so much trouble and if there was a new medical problem, they would terminate him.

I heard this and admitted to running him. I told them his speed and they couldn't believe it, even with the other witnesses. The end of the dream, we made a deal that I was allowed to be his trainer and jockey.

The dreams meaning: The first was the name... Sam was an acronym for Spirituality And Magic-- and would be what powered my art. The more I allowed of that to show through, the better my art and growth would be. The second meaning is that Sam was a symbol for Larry, a temperamental sort who required some folks to tread lightly, but who just wanted to run and win. (His drive and ambition was what kept him on track, too.)

So, all of that having been said, that is what I'm putting into my artwork: all the spirituality and magic that makes up my life :)

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The Story of a Rebirth

10/29/2013

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I can't believe I didn't write the Stag Dream down in this blog. Well, its not like my mind has been clear. But tonight, I have to get the story down so I can go to sleep. 

On September September 12, Stephen and I had the same dream about a White Stag. Here's what I put on facebook: "Y'all know metaphysical isn't unusual for me/us. If you're around me long, you know weird stuff happens, its part of my normal life and always has been. OK, so yesterday morning, I wake up from a weird dream and wonder what it has to do with anything. 

It fades into the daytime and I don't think much about it. Stephen said later: I had a weird dream as I was waking up, but i was awake. We took Mom home where she could "go" and not be in a hospital. We took her to her back porch. A huge stag, a buck was bowing down in front of Mom and he had does around him." 

I cut him off and asked "He was white or really light, too. Did yours have fuzz still on his antlers?" his eyes got big and he said yes. I asked if he was huge, I mean enormous and healthy-- and also welcoming her? He said yes, he was bringing peace. I said... and the antlers were rounded on the tips and there were does and babies around them, too. I know, I had the same dream. Something in the dream told me that it had something to do with Jesus."

I look up stags, white deer and found that they are messengers from the "otherworld" in Celtic tradition and also are symbols for Christ. Other names for the stag is "Hart". Her doctor's name is Hart and the trauma doc is named something like Hartlong. Here's what else we found: "Allegory/Moral
The stag is a symbol for Christ, who tramples and destroys the devil. As the stags crossing a river help each other, so should the Christian crossing from the worldly life to the spiritual life help others who grow weak or tired. As the stag is renewed and sheds its horns after drinking from the spring, so those who drink from the spring of the spirit are renewed and shed their sins." Here:http://bestiary.ca/beasts/beast162.htm

They gave her a breathing tube, a feeding tube and new antibiotics to give her all the resources available to fight this bug. So, lets hope the Stag opens a can of you know what on that devil ♥"


OK. Backstory: It was as if All of nature was welcoming her. The Stag wasn't Christ himself, but a manifestation of Christ Energy. Gosh, that sounds so weird, but thats what it told me. It was Majestic, frightening in the awe it carried. Light eminated around it and we were aware what a treasurable gift this was to experience. . 

Allright, so here it is October 28 and so much has gone on since then. If you continue reading FB (or this blog, lol), you'll see that there were ups and downs, denial, contradictions, declines, changing diapers- adult and a baby's, doling out morphine, dilaudid, atavan, a weeks worth of diarrhea diapers and MEDS that didn't touch it, nausea, throwing up, itching, with trial and error. I had told her over and over it was OK to go, we would be allright. She was so weak. 

She had such a hard time letting go, and this may be why: My Mom's life story

Now, this is what happened last night and today: 

Here is the actual link of what I wrote on facebook but below is copied and pasted. 
"This past weekend was spent telling Mom all I wanted her to know. We listened to CCR and Janis Joplin yesterday. I danced for her with Bun, made her comfortable and talked with her some more. I asked her, when she does go, please send me some vision to know that she is OK. Mom hung on and hung on.
 
Last night, from seeing her so pitiful for so long, I "nagged" her... "Mom, I love you so much and will miss you so much, but you've got so much more waiting for you that is beautiful beyond description- you've got Aunt Betty, Uncle Milford, Aunt Patty, Grandma and Dad waiting for you. There is so much joy and love waiting for you...PLEASE don't hang on to this little sick body that is too small for you. Don't think this is the best you're going to have. God has so much more for you, please accept it with open arms. But you're going to have to let go, first. Now, I'm going to sleep with you all night, and when I wake up, although I love you, please don't be in this little body anymore. Good night, Mommy, I love you." 

At 6 am, Stephen woke up, come in and checked on us. I was in the bed with her and could feel her heartbeat through the mattress. I went back to sleep. Sometime before 8 am, I heard a soft voice say: "She looks just like she did when she was alive." I thought it was Stephen, so I woke up and patted her... and she was gone. I don't know who that was, but it was a soft voice. 

So, I go tell Stephen. He comes into the kitchen and sees a Mama Deer and two older babies...... walking right up Mom's steps. Just like our shared dream in September. I cried and told Stephen "I told you they'd come for her. I guess The White Stag had showed up earlier." Stag is the symbol for Christ. Right now, I am so humbled that God, our Shared Source, saw fit to share this experience not only with me, but with him, too. No one would believe this. I am brought to my knees in the awe of this experience and validation. 

We are a part of All that Is and It is magnificent."

Medieval Bestiary : Stag
bestiary.caThe stag is the enemy of the snake. When the stag discovers a snake, it spits water into the hole where the snake hides, draws the snake out with its breath, and tramples it to death. If the stag is ill or old, it draws the snake out 
of hiding and swallows it. The stag then finds water and drinks la...

Occasionally, waves of sadness hit me so hard that it feels like someone is kicking in my throat. We had the most incredible journey with my Mom... filled with laughter, sadness, fear, anger and numbness. For her, the journey may have ended, but for me, it still goes on. 

And so will this relationship, I just know it. But those waves are a kicker. It will level you in a heartbeat-- and it doesn't care if you're in Walmart, church, a business meeting or dancing on the moon. When it hits, you don't have control over it. Just go with it and allow it to move through you... anything else is to block it and make loving and opening more difficult for you later. 

Thank you Mom for being the instrument for making me. You've touched the lives of so many and I am so honored to have you in my life. I love you. 

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We knew they would be coming for her. They never went up the steps to our knowledge before this... she'd been gone for months and we'd been back 10 days, so why do they go up the steps this particular day? To be the validation they knew about the safe passage. God bless.
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The Visit

10/13/2013

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Warning, adult language and really weird subject matter ahead. Stop now if you're not an adult or are either so narrowminded or conventional that information from "sensitives" scare you. You've been informed. 

Something odd happened tonight and, admittedly, I needed it :) I had a rough day. My Mom is awake, but she's not eating, she doesn't feel hungry. She says no to a feeding tube, says no to wanting to die, but says no to food by mouth. I mean to tell ya, it is a full time job making sure she eats something. 

Ok, so after today, I ended up pissed off. Most of the day was spent force-feeding mom, literally, with a syringe and ensure. I didn't want to do that, it felt disrespecting, but I kept asking her if she wanted to be ill from not eating (no), if she wanted to eat (yes), if she wanted to fix her low blood sugar (yes). She was so hypoglycemic that she was cold. I wasn't mean, I was stern and loving.

Good news is that after doing that, she was more alert and felt better. I just took the syringe and wiggled it in her mouth, through clenched lips and all, and gave her a squirt to the inside of her cheek. I'm used to this stuff with dealing with Devyn's GERD and that NAAAASTY meds the docs gave him. He had quit eating at all when he was 7 months old from the pain that esophagitis had caused due to the acid repeatedly burning his throat.

So I get home and I'm mad. Maybe it was justified. Maybe it was a pity party. How long is it going to be for me to have a life of my own? Am I willing to continue this at the expense of my little boy? Haven't I suffered enough by saving her life over and over? Hasn't she suffered enough? What fresh hell is this to work so hard to get someone to survive when they say they want to, but all their actions are going against survivability? And finally, just open your mouth and eat, dammit! I don't deny I want to spend the time helping her survive or saving her, but get with the program. (And, yes, I know that her mind is inhibited by toxins, but it doesn't make the feelings any better.)

Knot in stomach, heart in vice, I go to paint. Dev's having some sleep, I start writing all I feel and what I want to say on the canvas and start getting ideas of what its going to be. The letters' lines are going to cue me in on color change. Plus, I'm letting the poison out onto the canvas so it doesn't mess with me later. 

I take a break and walk outside and hear a bell, one sound, over and over. It feels like someone is trying to get my attention. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I feel someone there. All of a sudden, I was compelled to say "I know you're here, I just wish I could see you." I then started to feel the other person's protectiveness and that I'm never alone. They don't want this dilemma for me or us. But I get the distinct impression it isn't one of my blood relatives. 

I ask Stephen who it might be on his side: the person is protective, not to the I'll take your head off extreme, but by way of getting in between an experience and the person and shield the person. He said that sounded like his Mom. "the person is also very "polite" and would never invite themselves in... they're waiting on being welcomed in. They're not boat rockers, but they wouldn't hesitate to be fierce if they needed to" so, I said it outloud... "hey here, Mom Hill, go ahead and come in. I hope you know you're always welcome here."

With that, I went to get a cup to make some putty and didn't think any more of it. While I was getting the cup, I was overcome with motherly love, all these feelings at once just flooded in like a tsunami... all for Stephen and what he was doing with his life, how he was handling things, how well he loved, what kind of father and husband he was. I was so full of sentimentality, pride and joy (like he was MY son!) for him that I started crying. For me, thinking of my husband as a child, my child, just doesn't happen.  

I stopped what I was doing and went to tell him I was sure it was his Mom and couldn't get out what (I?) she was feeling for him because I was crying too much. I AM NOT A CRIER. I listen to slipknot, I take blows like a champ- get ticked off about situations, not hard, but not mushy, either. Sensitive, yes, empathic and compassionate, but not this.
 
Finally, all I could do was hug him and tell him how wonderful he was and that she was so so so proud of him. She was proud of his choices . He was just a good man. 

I got ahold of myself and told him that was why she was outside, she didn't want to intrude (thats one of the feelings I got) and that if he wanted to be alone with her, he could go outside. Seemed fitting that was where she was "concentrated" seeing as how he was taking out the garbage a minute or so ago. 

Stephen got some things and went outside. And, apparently, so did she... because the tidal wave was gone. I was done and was by myself to do what I wanted and my mind was quiet. What was left in her wake was contentment, gratitude, serenity. Something I'd needed all day long. What a huge gift to the both of us.... she is still mothering both of us :)

I've always considered, probably because of my upbringing and the shame surrounding that-- that I was not the kind of girl one takes home to mama. But oddly enough, as blunt, wild, bossy, outspoken and fun as I can be, but I got the distinct impression she did approve of me :)  I am honored. 
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Eavesdropping on Angels' Conversations: Nope, its no secret that artists are weird

5/21/2013

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I really think I dreamed about the Oklahoma City tornado last night before it happened. Proof, I even posted about it here on facebook before it happened. Yes, call me a kook, but I do believe in paranormal perception, 6th senses, esp, whatever you want to call it.  I think its one of God's gifts that we all have to some degree. Read about brain wave activity and what is linked to psychic things here.

I watch Theresa Caputo on Long Island Medium and she's helped me so much to realize and guide whats going on sometimes, much more than when this stuff was hush-hush. She's incredibly gifted and I wish I knew how to "let it go". I translate too much. I need to just describe and shut up about it.

Anyway, I had a terrible dream last night/this morning or so. It was so vivid and here is what was in it:

There was some huge cataclysmic event in which people were grabbing other people's kids and "hiding them" because they knew "it" was coming. It seemed important that I know that they knew "it" was going to happen.

The thing that was happening was so bad that sheltering really didn't matter. What was coming, I didn't know. (I do lucid dreaming in which I can actually "think" in my dream and I thought it was a world war, a volcano or an asteroid because people were running to bunker-type bomb shelters.) I've never lived in tornado prone areas, so basements and bomb shelters are foreign to me.

The devastation was going to be so huge that most wouldn't survive, and the ones who did survive were walking around in disbelief that they did. All these people were just walking around, looking at familiar objects like.. zombies or something.

I kept hearing, or being infused with the knowledge that "There were two storms before this one".

Anyway people were trying to hide children so they would be safe.
We, this couple,  weren't "supposed" to be able to survive, but the children were because they were in this other area (we were separated and I didn't know why).

I then turned into one of the children at a school (I somehow turn into all characters in my dreams and see their perspectives) and I was a child, one among many, in a room with cinder-block walls. Water was coming in and I got hit from behind by what I thought was a wave, but all I knew was I was catapulted toward the wall and remember thinking, "Please God, let me go through that one window to the high left because I don't want to go straight through that cinder block wall.

These children were there in that space (it felt like "on purpose") so they would go quickly. I didn't know why they should go quickly... my brain made up some excuse why in that they didn't want them to suffer. I don't even know who they are. 

I turned into another adult who couldn't figure out why people had their hands in the air and dry dirt was puffing and flying around in the air (again, I thought this meant an eruption of some sort, after all, ash is dirt and we live on the west coast.) I saw a black wedge shaped thing that I thought was smoke or an ash cloud.

Anyway, I switched back into the child in the cinder block building area. Water came into where we were and I was trying to hold the hand of another child. That "chapter" of the dream ended abruptly and I was another character. I didn't get anything else out of that, no last moments, no nothing.

Onward, I turned into a parent (myself?) and saw fire, something on the ground was hot and coming "up"(gas lines?) and cars crumpled and mangled and abandoned. My vehicle was gone, nothing worked and I couldn't figure out how to get my child. Everything was obliterated. I saw a car that was in shape to perhaps drive, noticed that the seatbelt had been ripped and there was blood on it.

I felt the seatbelt and then started screaming with the realization that someone had been strapped in it when it was torn apart and knew that it had to be an immense force that could rip that kind of material. I thought that the person wasn't in one piece because the chances were good that he or she ripped before the belt material. It was obvious that the person wasn't alive anymore.

I turned into another child who managed to hide in a cage-like area with other children at another school. He was warning other children to not go "out there". I don't think this one had a shelter or they managed to get out of the group. They weren't supposed to survive, but they did. They were in a small, enclosed space, forgotten storage behind the school.

I saw wood panels, something that looked like boxes or wooden crates and chicken wire. It was perhaps part of the school, perhaps not but so close it could be an outbuilding. Dogs came... they were afraid of the dogs and didn't want to say anything. Some dogs didn't seem tame. One had black inside his mouth as he was barking at me.

We were afraid of how we would survive AFTER having survived the initial onslaught. They thought their parents were dead and that the dogs would bite them, so they remained hidden and quiet. (I hope there are no children who are hiding, afraid of the rescue dogs out there. I never thought of them being big and scary to kids before.)

I then turned into that other person who had seen the seatbelt. I started screaming to find my child, that I had to get "where" he was because I knew the people who had him would keep him safe, but I just couldn't get there. 

Somehow, then Moss Point popped in the dream??? And then something about the importance of the survival of the children under the age of five. (I guess that would mean preschool kids, who WEREN'T in school would be ok.) Then I was running through New Orleans and people, survivors, were sleeping outside because it was hot and they had no electricity.

I heard Devyn running upstairs and I woke up.

Two storms before this one. Two storms before this one. What keeps getting me is that there really WERE two storms that took this path, almost exactly, before this one. One in 1999 and the other in 2003.
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    Linda Hill

    I am a life long artist, divorced from a 20 year marriage and a Mommy to a gorgeous little boy  for  3 years.

    I love God Consciousness, love to give and love the human spirit in all its forms. Nothing separates us, separation is an illusion.

    Its taken me a long time to feel comfortable in my own skin, scars and all. A past of neglect and sometimes abuse gave me issues I have to work through, sometimes here.

    What helped me most is to truly love and help others. You can't give what you don't have, but by giving, you will find that you already have all that you could ever wish for.

    My art, blog and life has been about "owning" myself along with all the mixed blessings that come with this thing we call life.

    Like the Velveteen Rabbit, I have become REAL.




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