tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31909140464155800172024-03-27T18:55:05.804-05:00"The Happy News Lady"TODAY IS ALL WE HAVEJulianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.comBlogger1149125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-72359353289700797122024-02-11T17:07:00.007-06:002024-02-11T17:10:59.701-06:00HENRY by Julianna Rowe<p><br /> LAST NIGHT, I MET <b>HENRY:</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My friend Jude and I were out about the local pubs one
evening. Jude had been on a one-man
mission for some time to find me a partner to spend my remaining days
with. Not that I asked. Jude had
entertained dating sites in my name, selfies……magazine ads, and computer sites,
all to no avail. Not that I am chopped
liver, but Jude lacks the qualities needed to write and or present me
properly. Heck, Jude couldn't even take
an appropriate photo of me. Not that I
offered him any assistance on his one-man plight because I didn’t care. It had
become a joke between friends. We all
wondered what would Jude come up with next.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One evening we were out and sitting at a large round table
with other friends. Most people in our
circle knew about Jude’s obsession with finding me a good man for whatever
reason. Our other friends were making
jokes because Jude had pointed to some younger men for me to consider. The responses
returned to him were more comical than his choices of youth for me.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And then I noticed two elderly men walking toward the
establishment. I looked at Jude and
pointed to one older man who had caught sight of me as well. I sent a smile directly into his space. Before the smile could ever arrive, Jude was
on him! Jude pointed to me as he
whispered God only knows what. At the same
moment, my smile hit and I received a genuine one back. As Jude returned to the table, the older
fellow and his buddy sat at a smaller round table within smiling distance. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“What did you say to him, Jude?” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“Oh, I told him you were looking for a man!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“You did not!”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“His name is Henry. The rest is up to you dear lady.”<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrlDZ-OPx0kSvf86qmoCL4Z_MQGh_xuRBjq2pkGhp3UjNSX03EZFg0Xq26tsN4BacewL0NoNNcUMe19mmNgwV04m5Nw46VtLb8xxGlQf9yC5BWm41-NVPvPh8HapoCeG2Uv_J38h4FBXDux2BDjU15vDQFNtaqSIptzrkDPQ-BnnMY2Pjh02ORNCOMI4/s296/Dick_Van_Dyke_2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="220" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrlDZ-OPx0kSvf86qmoCL4Z_MQGh_xuRBjq2pkGhp3UjNSX03EZFg0Xq26tsN4BacewL0NoNNcUMe19mmNgwV04m5Nw46VtLb8xxGlQf9yC5BWm41-NVPvPh8HapoCeG2Uv_J38h4FBXDux2BDjU15vDQFNtaqSIptzrkDPQ-BnnMY2Pjh02ORNCOMI4/s1600/Dick_Van_Dyke_2021.jpg" width="220" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I didn’t have to do anything because Henry excused himself
from his friend, walked over to me, leaned his tall lanky body over, and
whispered let's take a walk as he gently placed his arm under mine and helped
me to my feet and we walked. All chattering at our round table had ceased
including Jude’s whose incessant talk never stopped. They watched us walk away.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We walked and talked until we came upon a large old
Victorian house. Henry said come here,
look. What I saw was a line of electric
bikes hanging on racks that looked like old cow stanchions. Henry told me he invented them, the bikes. I said but no one is using them. He said, Right. We walked on and toward iron gates which he
opened and there before me was the most beautiful but uncared for
courtyard. Statues of a romantic nature //blessed
the area but were in dire need of cleaning. We passed and went into the
house. A woman was sitting in a chair
holding a basket. She appeared to be
Indian. Then a young man walked into the
room. I mentally guessed he was fourteen.
I looked over toward Henry with
questioning eyes. He responded that he
was the caretaker of these people. Then
a teenage girl walked in. I waited for
more to walk in but none did. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We walked the rest of the house with no words spoken. The home needed a woman’s touch as well as
some serious cleaning in all areas. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He said I want you to take care of them with me. Money is not an issue, you can do whatever
you wish with the house. I am signing it
over to you but I want you to know there may be problems. My children might try to take it away from
you upon my passing. I will do my best
to make sure that doesn’t happen. And
then he would do a little dance around me and smile with those beautiful white
teeth. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">He added I might have to take care of him as he was gaining
in years. I agreed without
hesitation. He looked just like Dick Van
Dyke. He danced just like him too.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, with one little walk, and a smile from deep in the
Universe, I knew I would never have to worry again about food, housing, cars,
tires, healthcare, or dirty nursing (dying mills) homes. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I was a born caretaker so this was perfect for me. Betty, the Indian was our cook and the other children were a joy. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I woke up HAPPY. I am
glad I met Henry and hope he will materialize into my space on Earth. Because Henry made me Happy. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-78325030276152501262023-11-26T14:49:00.005-06:002023-11-26T14:49:34.049-06:00Somewhere Beyond the Sea by Julianna Rowe <p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Somewhere Beyond the Sea</strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> by Julianna Rowe</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Good Morning, Flesh and Spirit! Beware where your thoughts and decisions can take you. Dead or ALIVE!</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Once Upon a Time, inside my head or outside, I know not “witch,” lived the beautiful land of Killarney, Ireland. The grasses around Killarney were the colors of every green and more in my hundred-and-eighty box of crayons from grade two. As I looked out over the hills and valleys, I saw what the quilt called Killarney Green indeed was. I wonder if I weren’t in space momentarily, peeking outside where I truly lived, looking at something unreal. Its beauty was not measured by what senses blessed my extreme intellectual level. Ah, maybe that is the culprit here? Or was I in space, having died of my previous matter of being? Either way, Killarney was my home now. Or so I thought.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The clothes that held my new body draped the ground. A long white apron covered part of the clothes, and they flowed weightless as the gentle winds of Killarney blew a mist of salty sea water across my milkin’ pure skin. I was pure, or was I? Since when did that occur? But it had, so I went with it because it felt PURE. Clean. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">And then I saw the others gathering items, busy like they each knew their intended jobs and did them. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">And still in the background were those scenic patchwork green acres of land with the sea in the distant background. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I looked like one of those Amish women.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Then, I observed a group of people sporadically painting a few rocks. They would stop on occasion looking at me for approval. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Somebody told me through spiritual communication that I had designed the rock painting and my permission was required, which I gave. My creations were a magnificent display of art blending into the landscape as though from the Gods through me. I was no longer in the long dress with the long white apron.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I heard a sound to my right and turned in wonderment at the sight. How could this be? A woman is lying in a stall in labor of child. But it is an animal stall, and she has trouble birthing her baby. There was no one to assist her. I continued to watch. One man came forth holding a tiny Bristol brush he instructed the other man how to use. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">He told him that if he gently brushed the area of the woman’s cervix, the infant child could be born without further pain and possible trauma.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The woman in labor had sent a message to her best friend to come and be with her, but the woman’s friend ignored her summons and went about her business of chores and happiness. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">She didn’t wish to be bothered by her friend’s pain.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The man, who appeared to be the overseer of birthing, explained to the woman this new procedure that should bring on the birthing with less difficulty. Telling her it would be somewhat uncomfortable, but the result would end the misery. She agreed, and he proceeded to bristle the cervical area. Within moments, a child was born in the animal stall in Killarney, Ireland. A land unknown to most.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">One day, the woman was walking her baby and came upon her friend, who had ignored her pleas for assistance in the birthing. The friend fell into deep despair, crying and begging forgiveness for her lack of caring. The woman forgave her friend, but the others did not. The community ostracized her because her heart proved she had merely gotten caught and was not repentant.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The man who lived in a room in Killarney viewed all the same things I was but said nothing, only watched as I did. Who was this man? But then, who was I? We were riding on the edge of a shooting star in a flash, and the scene changed. I was living in a different time and place once again. Somebody built this of cement. Possibly, I was transported to Italy. Or New Mexico? I always liked being in control of myself, but this was something I knew I had to let go of and ride the ride with. It wasn’t like I was in any river with crashing, frightening rapids. It was a trickling creek with tributaries the spirit had chosen for me to take off the main flow. It was most likely some form of learning or lesson, and so far, it had not caused me duress. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">At the least, that was my summation of this movie inside my head that wasn’t.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Inside my new stucco home, I felt safe. The man from Killarney was still with me but not in view, yet I could always feel his presence. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">There was a knock on my door. Before I could open it, a man of another nationality pushed the door in. Then, another man crept in behind him. They began pushing me around, and I was frightened. I told them I was calling the police, but they laughed when one of them took my phone. The man who cared for me opened a porthole in the room right out of midair. I could see him lying down on something when he mentally summoned me into the porthole, but not all the way. Somebody told me spiritually that if I went all the way, I wouldn’t be able to return. I did as he requested but stepped too far into his domain. I sat beside him and noticed a large tear in his left eye. He asked me if he could love me, and I said yes. His lips were wet and had the consistency of jello from many previous tears, all held in one packet next to his left eye. I placed my hand on his face and wiped the tear that told his sad story. He told me how much he loved me and everything would be alright. I kissed his very wet lips for a long time. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I was pulled back through the portal by the interference of the police, who had arrived needing to ask me more questions regarding the intruders. The man told me he would be watching and waiting for me. I asked him if he was dead. Or was I dead? He just stared at me with love, no words. For some reason, I was allowed back through the porthole.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The house belonged to my step-nana. She was well-to-do before she passed away. She also oversaw my walk through this self-made movie set of Heaven’s School. I knew not which. Maybe I was roaming in one of the twelve dimensions spirit told me of. Still, I was also to be careful not to step too far into other extensions of the Universe. In my estimation, that may have already happened. I wondered if I would get to choose “witch” one I preferred or if the Universe was in charge. I suspected the latter. And what if the man didn’t love me and was a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Either way, I had to continue the journey.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I was over-cleaning due to stress when three people talked me into traveling back to Ireland for a business deal. Something about my calling to write, so I agreed. While standing at the airport or what seemed like a train station, I felt the urge not to go. I never listened as I should have to the still, small voice. No, I preferred the loud, usually incorrect voices that seemed more REAL. The truth was quite the opposite. And so we arrived in Ireland, and I knew it was a mistake. We were not at the same beautiful Killarney but a stale building inside a cold apartment. It was a fear-filled moment.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I snuck a legal pad from the tenant, who convinced me to travel with them. I began writing to the man who said he loved me. The man had so many tears, but my pen would skip to where he couldn’t read my words. I grabbed another pen, and it did the same. I attempted to tell him my trouble, and he needed help. I folded the paper and addressed the envelope to “Somewhere beyond the sea.” The owner took it from me, saying she would ensure it was sent. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">My mind and heart vacillated between flesh and spirit, but I didn’t know it.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The man answered my letter with his spirit voice. He was upset I had left without warning, with no forethought of the dangers, whether it be dangers of the flesh or hazards of the spirit. Both existed. I kept apologizing, but he didn’t stop scolding me. He told me he would be back and to listen for him. He told me that he would give up and move if I didn’t stop searching for things outside my true path. I would not be able to find him. I heard him and took his words to heart. But I was still lost.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">In the meantime, this dimension I wished I were not in added a new twist. The female owner brought a dog into the larger of the rooms. She sat him down and asked me if I would like a puppy. I said I didn’t believe it was a good time for me to have a puppy, and that dog was not a puppy. She laughed a strange laugh like I used to hear a “witch” cackle when I was little. I decided words were not my friend then and stilled my fleshly voice. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Why weren’t people communicating in the spirit like the others all had? Oh God, where was I? Because it wasn’t Killarney, Ireland, by the beautiful patchwork hills and baby blue peaceful ocean with its mirrored surface reflecting the heavens and all its glories. No, I was in some downtown coal yard resembling Detroit's lousy section.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The woman continued. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">She told me she could get me a puppy from this male dog in less than two hours. I started to laugh when I realized her expression was for me to pretend, I believed. This was one of those times I imagined myself raising both arms and shouting.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">“Praise the Wicked Witch of all wisdom and knowledge!” </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">But of course, that was only in my imagination because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and needed to listen very carefully to find my way out. But it appeared it was not time yet.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">The witch lady injected a syringe into the back of the dog's skull. The dog felt no pain and did not flinch. I did not cringe out of fear of retaliation. I did not want a needle inserted into the back of my head so I could have puppies or babies or anything. I remained calm as she inserted the long needle into the brain of the male dog. He ejaculated sperm in the opposite direction than usual for a male dog. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">She cackled at her feat. The male dog had impregnated himself, and within minutes, she showed me an X-ray of five puppies in a sac inside the male dog. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">She cackled again, saying they would be born shortly and I could have my pic of the litter. I didn’t want a puppy. I wanted to go back to the dimension I was loved in. Not the one with evil men and police, women of the old days having babies in the barn, or where witches lived and caused fundamental and true horrors.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">And that is when I heard the voice of the man. He instructed me how to escape the witch's dimension and return to the train station</span><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">. I had accidentally taken the train to Ausch- “witch.” </strong><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Also known as Hell.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I did as directed and was home in a nanosecond or so. I stood in a void staring, going in a circle, searching for the man. I begged him to open the porthole again for me, but he didn’t. </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">Had I waited too long, and he moved away? </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I cried, pleaded, and threw myself on my knees in earnest prayer that he would return for me. Nothing. Was this it? </span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I was on my own. I sat on the grass and cried the same thick, heavy tears the man had. Why couldn’t I find him, and why couldn’t he see me? The loss and grief were unbearable.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">I opened my eyes, turned to the right, and pushed the clock button that lit up to say it was 8:06 a.m. No man loved me, no Ireland, no witch, no puppies, no train stations, and no help coming. Somebody sent the metaphors of a dream to help me decipher my mind and journey.</span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span data-preserver-spaces="true" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></p><p style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0e101a; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> </p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-60084835416306765862023-07-31T17:56:00.001-05:002023-07-31T17:56:10.120-05:00The Homeless "Lady" by Julianna Rowe<p> <b>The Homeless <i>“Lady” by Julianna Rowe</i></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Why am I drawn to that filthy homeless woman with her matted
hair like a dog that has never been cared for?
I suspect there must be bugs in it.
Her hands are brown with dirt, and she is wearing layers of clothing
unfit for any human. My God, she has no
shoes. She sits inside a large cardboard box and I can see only one
blanket. That mangey dog that hangs
around her must be hers. I checked with
the doorman and he tells me they call her “Loose Lefty.” The story goes she used to sell herself on
occasion for food. That’s the loose part
anyway. Lefty? No one is sure where that came from. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">God, I live in this beautiful luxurious high-rise where I
can see her from a distance. Why am I drawn to watching her? I have a view of the
Hudson River and magnificent city lights in all directions. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I need to call my therapist.
I have become obsessed with her like that guy in the movie was with Siri.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Hell, I even bought a pair of high-power binoculars to watch
her. I am missing my lunch hours and am late for meetings due to my preoccupation with some dirty old homeless woman. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then one day I pulled out my binoculars to find she was gone.
All day I searched leaving my work unattended.
I was panicking.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She had become an integral part of my life, but why?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I noticed the dog was very nervous with her gone. I decided
to leave my post and binoculars and go to the homeless village where I started
asking questions. Where is she? Did she die, which for some crazy reason freaked
me out? Then I started checking hospitals but I had no name to offer but “Loose
Lefty.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I then went to every ambulance center asking every shift if
they picked up a homeless woman on 51<sup>st</sup> and 106<sup>th</sup> Street West.
I finally found out who picked her up
and what hospital they took her to.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had found her. She
was somewhat cleaned up but in bad shape and was treated with disrespect due
to her appearance. This angered me. So, I
physically picked her up from the hospital bed and carried her to my car. The hospital called the Police…. But the Police
had more pressing matters to tend to than that old woman. They said if I paid her bill, and I did, there
was no cause for alarm at that point. The fact is I threw the cash on the desk all
the while holding her before I had walked out.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I took her home. I called
an old girlfriend who came over and helped with her hair and bathed her. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> I bought her all-new
clothes and toiletries. At first, she
was talking like a street person in a rather rough manner, but then something
happened when she looked at herself in the mirror. Like she found who she used
to be, her old self that had class and had cared once upon a time. I even went and got the mangy dog and had him
cleaned up. She would not say who she was,
in fact, she didn’t talk too much. Although
she was quite excited about the dog.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A couple days later I went back to work leaving her on her
own in my apartment. While I was gone, she
became bored and started snooping thru my papers and photos. She saw something that shocked her, causing her
to run away. But she left the dog behind with me.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I came home to find her missing. I took the dog out and when I returned, I noticed
she had gone through the old scrapbooks my brother had left me. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I had not seen my mother since I was seven years old. It was then I found her pictures in the old scrapbook.
I threw it down and ran directly to the homeless village but she was not
there. They would not have recognized
her anyway with her new clothes and clean hair, not to mention she smelled
differently. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">It would be another four months before I found her again. I had
searched every homeless tent city, the underground homeless areas, under
railroad bridges, hospitals, and even the morgue, but then she had no name. I could
not go to the police because I had no name to offer to fill out a missing
person report. And then. On my walk home, there she was, sitting on a park
bench by herself in front of the high-rise Sentry Insurance building. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said, “Mother. It’s
okay Mother, it’s me, Christopher, come on, we are going home.”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And we both cried for a long time. I then realized she had run away because she
was embarrassed for me to see how she had allowed her life to end up, homeless
and existing in a large Cardboard Box. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And they lived happily ever after. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Of course, they did. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ax6slBTm_xBqrMXXTs1pb8yUiaVCM8P_bvw4HVI1iIPTYsATZhX2q6zloNT-WjrPyLEGkObI2f8OvFiBNx6V-NZNrZwQguJZT8fR6E8AHUusD8mhdta8iqP6hf1R5U4HxLmo0IbefbejrU3pyYXFF1WjRxrw8EpnKD-LH09tAOAEW6AYiuMNY1cyG1w/s957/Scan0024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="957" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Ax6slBTm_xBqrMXXTs1pb8yUiaVCM8P_bvw4HVI1iIPTYsATZhX2q6zloNT-WjrPyLEGkObI2f8OvFiBNx6V-NZNrZwQguJZT8fR6E8AHUusD8mhdta8iqP6hf1R5U4HxLmo0IbefbejrU3pyYXFF1WjRxrw8EpnKD-LH09tAOAEW6AYiuMNY1cyG1w/s320/Scan0024.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-88351673429669227172023-06-14T18:26:00.001-05:002023-06-14T18:26:15.992-05:00Numerology: An Overview by Julianna Rowe<p> A quick overview of the Greek Pythagoras System:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There are five numbers derived from the combination of first
your birthday, and then your name. These
are called:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->1)<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> 1- </span><!--[endif]-->The Lifepath Number (the total of the month, day
and year)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->2)<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> 2.- </span><!--[endif]-->The Birth-Day Number (the day of the month you were
born on)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->3)<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> 3.- </span><!--[endif]-->The Soul Number (this is the numeric value of
the vowels in your name)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->4)<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> 4.- </span><!--[endif]-->The Personality Number (which is the numeric
value of the consonants)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->5)<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> 5.- </span><!--[endif]-->The Power of the Name Number (the combination of
the Soul and Personality numbers)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->6)<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> 6.- </span><!--[endif]-->The Attitude Number (while it is not in the top
five numbers, it can provide insights into a person.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">In Numerology, all the numbers are
reduced to a single digit. For example:
19 becomes <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">1 + 9= 10 = 1 + 0 = 1. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">Using the Pythagoras Number
System, every letter of the alphabet is assigned a numeric value. The vowels go above the name you are adding
up, and the consonants below it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b>The Vowel Number is your Soul
Urge.</b> It’s what you feel on the
inside. People who know you may not see
it but you are aware of it internally. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b>The Consonant Number is your
Personality Number.</b> It’s how you
appear outside. It is what you show the world and how people perceive you.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b>And the third number is the
Power Name Number. </b>It’s the strength
of your name and lets us know who you are. The belief is that the universe
gives you your Birthday and your parents give you your name. This is the most important number in the
additions of your name. If this number
is not compatible with your Lifepath Number, I advise you to alter it to make your
life easier.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">The day you were born (<b>Birthday
Number</b>) because it is how you appear. This is the number that gives people
their first impression of you.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;">The <b>LifePath Number</b> is the
number you must fulfill in order to be truly happy.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b>The Destiny Number</b> tells
you what you will inevitably fulfill in your lifetime. This number may be different from the name
you are using today. But this vibration
will not be ignored so I suggest you find ways to use it to your advantage.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in;"><b>The Attitude Number</b> is how
you communicate to people. Whatever your attitude number, people will expect
you to operate from this vibration. If your Lifepath Number is different than
your Attitude Number, I suggest you let people know right away who you
are. Otherwise, they won’t have a
clue. Your Attitude Number will confuse
them.<o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-13990944219408805712023-06-10T11:42:00.001-05:002023-06-10T11:42:09.535-05:00 Author Interview of me: Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden to be continued:<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLw54GamrZCcecnuDFMLu7Tum8g3OoBPATsNBFP7iZUPFV31DL7ei8XfjYWgHSgdRE8edTIqh7MrgZweygWEF9q4KYBqzu3cvfNslKqYtaSwyOR9ZYyeDnHU5vNWH-WTMF5r5MLbtHarJ4A5V2jw-2N3xmWWmOomLL8yGp6P0nHuSWucB0tcfyQNJ/s2048/351115814_811617537275825_5381482589017767732_n%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1582" height="741" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLw54GamrZCcecnuDFMLu7Tum8g3OoBPATsNBFP7iZUPFV31DL7ei8XfjYWgHSgdRE8edTIqh7MrgZweygWEF9q4KYBqzu3cvfNslKqYtaSwyOR9ZYyeDnHU5vNWH-WTMF5r5MLbtHarJ4A5V2jw-2N3xmWWmOomLL8yGp6P0nHuSWucB0tcfyQNJ/w580-h741/351115814_811617537275825_5381482589017767732_n%20(1).jpg" width="580" /></a></div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-12926657277665221022023-06-07T08:26:00.003-05:002023-06-07T08:26:29.540-05:00Abducted: by Julianna Rowe<p> ABDUCTED: Property of Julianna Rowe</p><p> She was taken hostage at gunpoint by two men near a
convenience store. Blindfolded and taken to an underground location not far
outside the city. There were two of them, a man and I was the other person who was going to be
used for insurance leverage with the FBI as getaway pawns. The blindfolds were removed, and we were left
in an empty room with one window. I immediately went to the
window, only to see heavy vines blocking the view of a brick wall opposite the vine. Just then, the lock on the door
clicked and opened. A shorter man with a
bandana hiding his face entered with a tray of food. Actually, decent food. Two plates filled with hamburgers, french
fries, and apple pie. Another basket of fruit, soft drinks, napkins, and seasonings. I said out loud to the other prisoner.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">“What is going on here?” </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhCV8Q3uA_5Mx-JVWeVOrUndOtaFpsQR-_2Lho4nRqfTX0y9geTWZ1OMi2AYg2JTMBlBYkQpffAA8q5BrEkoouqpsRkcMN20KM1DGOaiCK30DTyuPeq1HjK3I9PbHiB7SffzkzHNDVvj-F-aRgSZpjPz2Z6S6dYABtVfkw7r7JbXeSI8ArfArcQgk/s612/istockphoto-1210827909-612x612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJhCV8Q3uA_5Mx-JVWeVOrUndOtaFpsQR-_2Lho4nRqfTX0y9geTWZ1OMi2AYg2JTMBlBYkQpffAA8q5BrEkoouqpsRkcMN20KM1DGOaiCK30DTyuPeq1HjK3I9PbHiB7SffzkzHNDVvj-F-aRgSZpjPz2Z6S6dYABtVfkw7r7JbXeSI8ArfArcQgk/s320/istockphoto-1210827909-612x612.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">But no one spoke. Food was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I went back to the window and tried
to open it. It had been painted
shut. Where were we? I recalled riding in an elevator, but did we
go up or down? There was obviously a brick building very close and what was with the
thick vines. They looked like the vines in the children’s book “Jack and the
Beanstalk.” But that couldn't be.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our captors had left utensils with our meal. I grabbed a bite of food, took the dull
knife to the window, and began loosening the years of dried paint holding
us prisoner. I knew they would be
returning soon for our dishes, so I continued vigorously pursuing our
escape to where I had no idea. If I got the window open, would I climb up or
down? There wouldn’t be much time for decision-making. I might as well have been climbing
into the abyss but at least it was freedom from what appeared to be imminent
death. I never was one to settle or go out without a fight. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">When I finally got the window loosened all the way around
and began to lift the heavy wood it groaned as though pain were surging thru
it. Like it was feeling the same opportunity I hoped to sense once I got it moving enough, but once again, it was stuck. I ran back to the food tray and grabbed the
squeeze bottle of catsup, squirted it onto each side of the window frame, and jiggled it to release the liquid into the side sliding crevices, and BINGO! It opened as it released one final groan feeling
its own personal freedom while allowing mine. I turned to my friend and said,
“Come on!” To which he just stood there
frozen.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I slithered out, looked down to see darkness, looked up and
saw light, and began climbing. I was not
in the best physical condition, but it didn’t matter. I was putting one foot in front of another
and when there wasn’t a vine in ladder formation, I grabbed and pulled myself
up until I found one. This truly did appear to be a Jack Beanstalk. I could only hope the ending would be as good
as the well-known old book. That is when my wandering mind was thrown back to
its pitiful dangerous senses by hearing a man’s gruff angry voice shouting for
the others that I had escaped. I could
feel the vibration of the presence of another human on my thick vine to freedom.
Fear was in great pursuit of me. I went faster and faster until I was gasping
for air. Stress gripped my throat like I was being strangled, and my lungs were
responding in pain but I could see the light from above coming closer. Maybe it was heaven, and I was dying? Would I die getting away from anyone holding
me against my will for their own benefit? I had lived through difficult life situations and
come out of them before and would again, even at my own death. Behind me only the crackling of the vines and the harsh heavy deep grunts of a
killer in pursuit of me. Why me? What
was the purpose, or was I simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? It didn’t
matter at that point. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My mind came back to reality when I jumped off the vine and
hit a real city cement sidewalk. No one was in sight and I was still gasping for the breath of life I needed to continue. There were buildings all around that
looked somewhat familiar, but there was no time to ponder it, only run, but I
couldn’t run. I saw two buildings with a small alley between where I
scurried to, stood, catching my breath
for a few seconds, and then onto and through the alley to a street with more
activity. I asked a passerby if I could
use their cell phone as I had been abducted.
I must have frightened them because they were gone in a flash. I asked the next person I saw and they handed
me their phone. I called my cell phone
number, hoping for an answer from someone I knew. I believe I was delirious or I would have dialed 9 1 1. And then I heard a voice on the other end answering my
phone. It was my abductor telling me
there was no escape, they had put trackers on my phone and everyone on my
contact list. If I tried to reach out
to anyone, I would be found. I handed the phone back to the stranger and began
running. I had no money, no vehicle, no
contacts. At this point, I knew where I
was and continued toward my home. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I woke up. That was a scary dream! </p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-66435809331653158132023-06-04T11:24:00.000-05:002023-06-04T11:24:02.970-05:00My French Life or.....? by Julianna Rowe<p> I saw this marvelous book at one of my client's homes. I
gently took it from its quiet resting place, leaning on another book named
Bloom. Humm, maybe that was a secret set-up code from beyond (for me!) I opened
it and found my eyes tearing up. I thought to myself, "What? What?" In
other words, what is causing you to cry?? I answered myself calmly. "I
never had a French Life, and I felt like I was looking right into one. Such an
appealing sight as I stood alone beside the old English brick fireplace. It was
like I should have or could have and still wished to." The tears were from
a life of struggle and survival and not in France. I'm not saying this to
bemoan myself because I've found and created my forms of life in France. I have
always gravitated toward French Country when decorating. I am a total romantic,
whether it is a white French mantel or a black iron chopping table. When a
creative person like me cannot travel to the real deal, she brings the real
deal home. I've accomplished a lot in my life. Sculpting, sewing, jewelry
making, writing, woodworking, painting, and drawing, all while raising five
children, working two and three jobs to provide them with everything they need
for a happy family home, not sure they will agree on the word happy, and always balancing where to put any leftover funds.
I won't laugh at that statement; no one except a single Mom with five children
would understand.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz6DCP3wiZ4-zy9NY3PgFvy65DoY3t1MZkTgY-dFIbCOPWfpiJ7VZcArwFUP01OrPgZ_rDJuppT0_sqHLh3cifJRPtlYuYKZ_81g9dlLxLU3QUGxW7sYDPJ0zhx_sqx1NK4PpO78ioSLsq8mef6PwqKqbPimLqirWD7IrgjdT5pGkkkfgWSQGR0eJC/s634/MyFrenchLife-thumb-480x634%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="479" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz6DCP3wiZ4-zy9NY3PgFvy65DoY3t1MZkTgY-dFIbCOPWfpiJ7VZcArwFUP01OrPgZ_rDJuppT0_sqHLh3cifJRPtlYuYKZ_81g9dlLxLU3QUGxW7sYDPJ0zhx_sqx1NK4PpO78ioSLsq8mef6PwqKqbPimLqirWD7IrgjdT5pGkkkfgWSQGR0eJC/s320/MyFrenchLife-thumb-480x634%20(1).jpg" width="242" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">None of this is to say I wouldn’t like to be walking on that
rainy day wearing black tights, a black dress, a black trench, and a black
umbrella, just as in the picture.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">While holding this book by Vicki Archer, I paused to read a
paragraph that caught my eye, or was my eye sent to this perfect page, the
perfect section just for me this day? So, to set this up, I will tell you She
and her husband purchased a small 50-acre farm unseen. Below are her thoughts
as they come upon it for the first time......<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">"The farmhouse in view was not in line with the one in
my imagination: What stood before us was derelict and in total disrepair. My
excitement never faltered for a moment - these were mere hurdles to be jumped.
My son, Paddy, whispered, "This is it, Mum. We've found it" My heart
was hammering in my chest, tears filled my eyes, my ability to speak vanished
and the momentous truth shook me like nothing before. If you believe there can
be a moment in time when everything in your life changes, then for me, this
moment had arrived.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I felt that way when each of my children were born. And once, when I was fifteen, I spent some
time on a ranch in Jacksonhole, Wyoming, and the Ski Resort town of Pinedale,
Wyoming. I have never lost the desire to live there, not ever. Otherwise, no
moments such as this family experienced. Their experience came through the book
like a spiritual awakening directly at me. Thus, the tears. Of joy, sadness,
loss, hope, or maybe I lived in France on that farm (Mas de Barnard, a
Provencal mas, farmhouse) in a past life! Yeah, that is probably it.<o:p></o:p></p>
<br />
<p class="MsoNormal">Labels: le coup de foundre (love at first site)<o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-33532795918908281772023-05-04T07:32:00.001-05:002023-05-04T07:32:20.754-05:00The Hitchhiker by Julianna Rowe <p> Out on Amazon soon. </p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Hitchhiker by Julianna Rowe Book #1</span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Cardboard Coffins is a series that takes place in 1966 while traveling the Old Mother Road Route 66 to Los Angeles. </span></b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvvjV_P3KmXWPzWpVoFTkGfVMWlumZFCzSl2kJTZ-cxqWAM-yDDdO6bo5jZTJcHCtMSr-OFZptATpmM4HT1kXcDRKQXytNrcPTYRZ64oYm-Q7NpZ89rHA9voa9rPUJjg6c-qVodnzx3n1chbyiFgVnG_VThBHSfP5pbfwXwW3C1Lnx6truJ_hdIii/s3750/The%20Hitchhiker%20BOOK%20COVER%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="3750" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEvvjV_P3KmXWPzWpVoFTkGfVMWlumZFCzSl2kJTZ-cxqWAM-yDDdO6bo5jZTJcHCtMSr-OFZptATpmM4HT1kXcDRKQXytNrcPTYRZ64oYm-Q7NpZ89rHA9voa9rPUJjg6c-qVodnzx3n1chbyiFgVnG_VThBHSfP5pbfwXwW3C1Lnx6truJ_hdIii/w640-h461/The%20Hitchhiker%20BOOK%20COVER%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><p class="MsoNormal">Chapter Ten “The Holding Cell”<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This sure as heck was no cardboard box. It was a cold gray holding cell and I was
hungry and angry and staving off a serious nervous breakdown I surely deserved
to have. At least I had convinced myself
I was justified in giving up. Surviving
had been my middle name most of my life.
Never giving up, always a smile no matter what. Yet the hitchhiker saga pulled me to a depth
I had never experienced. Not even the death
of my father had affected me in the way a total stranger named Roger had. And I didn’t even know his name. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That is when I met Bambi, a girl of the night working the
streets. Hence, a prostitute. She had
more rouge on her cheeks than I had ever seen on my old Grannie Gillie. Well, I am exaggerating some. Bambi would have been much prettier without
all that makeup. Nevertheless, she saw I
was in distress and she came over to offer kindness to me. Bambi told me not to worry. I would get to
see the Judge the following day and I was lucky it wasn’t Friday because Friday
meant no Judge until the following Monday.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I guess that was supposed to make me feel better but it
didn’t. I asked Bambi why I didn’t get
to make a phone call. I thought legally
they had to give me one phone call before putting me in the pokey. I told Bambi I didn’t even know why I was
there. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She laughed as in disbelief.
I reiterated to her I was not a lady of the night. That I had picked up a hitchhiker back in
Illinois and I thought he might be the reason why we got stopped by Johnny Law
who took my dog and my beautiful Pink Cadillac and I was so afraid they were
gone forever. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My story seemed to have shocked Bambi, but she told me to
relax because if I hadn’t committed any crimes, I should be alright. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Now as I look back, I realize why she was shocked at my
circumstances. And yes, I should have
been offered the option of a phone call.
She again had a puzzled look on her face regarding the fact I wasn’t
offered my legal right to a phone call.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The guards finally came with dinner which amounted to a hot
dog, peaches, some chocolate pudding, and a carton of warm milk. Most of which I could not consume due to an
allergy to milk so Bambi traded me her peaches for my pudding and milk which
lifted my spirits some as I could not recall when I had eaten last. That made me think of Duke and I started to
cry. Bambi put her arms around me and
rocked me like a little kid. I guess I
needed that.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then came the mats.
The guards had thrown them into the cell-like our livelihood meant
nothing to them. Like you throw a hunk
of meat at a captive lion at the zoo.
The mats were to sleep on as there were too many bodies for the number
of bunks in the holding cell. Naturally,
the weaker of the lot go to the floor and of course, that was me as in only the
strong survive which used to be my motto but had now exited the building. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Bambi opted to sleep next to me so she could watch for any
fights breaking out between the girls and which gave me a sense of
security. She could see how alone and
simply stressed out I was. My utter
exhaustion caused me to sleep right through the noise of the women of the night
and their constant drama until early morning.
They had been used to sleeping all day and working the streets all night
thus, the noise and bickering.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And then came breakfast which was atrocious. Slop with soggy white toast, a packet of jam,
and cold coffee.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I prayed for the time to pass quickly so I could tell the
Judge my story. But I did not have a
story. At the least, I would hear what
the charges against me were. And then it
began. Every single girl was taken to
the courtroom but me. My friend Bambi was gone.
I was all alone in that huge gray cell.
The only good part was no one would be staring at me when I used the
toilet. That degrading fact did not help
my depression. I had always been a very
private person when it came to bathroom activities. Therefore, this happening to me just added to
my hate and anger for Roger. Who the
heck was Roger anyway and why did I get arrested?<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">That is when the woman guard opened the cell door,
handcuffed me, and took me six floors down to Courtroom 107. Judge Sommers. As I stood before him trembling, he asked me
if I knew why I was there.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I said, “No sir I do not. All I know is I was traveling to
Los Angeles and picked up a hitchhiker in Illinois and ever since some very
strange things have happened to me, sir.
I had never been in any sort of trouble in all my life.”<o:p></o:p></p></h3>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-71082341399191872572023-04-20T14:50:00.001-05:002023-04-20T14:50:21.399-05:00Lifepath and Destiny Vibration FIVE by Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden<p>LifePath and <b>Destiny</b> 5 in Numerology......</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk_7g35AYQIXbwo9NmP0xRWX5aVtCU1igscZZf-ImhssHGqrZvr133itWma-N5_AfYchRn43xxVikUXGMIEIl21eIirB16n1pgwXDoqpaHZK5pFkOUs5MX7DUqznaoCC91h5gJSRXpsuK-ZEut0RFs0ElnUR-uRZpDfxWTxk6aXPV7Wjg6eSewoTp/s200/Photo_01572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="200" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRk_7g35AYQIXbwo9NmP0xRWX5aVtCU1igscZZf-ImhssHGqrZvr133itWma-N5_AfYchRn43xxVikUXGMIEIl21eIirB16n1pgwXDoqpaHZK5pFkOUs5MX7DUqznaoCC91h5gJSRXpsuK-ZEut0RFs0ElnUR-uRZpDfxWTxk6aXPV7Wjg6eSewoTp/s1600/Photo_01572.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">As you can see by these photos, a five-vibration needs
freedom! I am a frustrated nurturer caretaker who needs some action in her life! I have a 5 energy or vibration that loves freedom in all
areas in my <b>destiny placement</b>. That means in the additions of my full birth name given to
me by my parents (they fixed it so I was messed up
forever!), blame blame? Absolutely! Back
to my point. Our parents gave us our names
which give us the first three of five numbers of energies we will live by all our lives
unless we change our name. The last two
numbers come from the additions of our date of
birth, which many say God gave us. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Example: 10-13-1971 <b>Lifepath:</b> 1+1+3+1+9+7+1= <b>5</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am a person that
wants freedom and adventure, and private detective work. Yet I do none of that, which
makes me want to go join a soap opera or a circus due to total boredom. Who else takes weird photos of themselves for entertainment..... on the webcam.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTWVEP6zH4dvaivRNXaBjYhrJd7JOG74TTA5e3XBQbWAG1meNKhw1WAnkRiGhLJzfmhl4E874womk0T2YE9QaiQmiNb4bD08hZVqjkRGW4qaUoaEbXEt2azJML_XtBZXZIS2DibtSPg0HDSvHCZ_GOnrpCT_21t_pFN1IFxO2eDP0eOGxyj3EqMJ_/s200/Photo_00014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="200" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTWVEP6zH4dvaivRNXaBjYhrJd7JOG74TTA5e3XBQbWAG1meNKhw1WAnkRiGhLJzfmhl4E874womk0T2YE9QaiQmiNb4bD08hZVqjkRGW4qaUoaEbXEt2azJML_XtBZXZIS2DibtSPg0HDSvHCZ_GOnrpCT_21t_pFN1IFxO2eDP0eOGxyj3EqMJ_/s1600/Photo_00014.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Famous 5 lifepaths : Abraham Lincoln, Angelina Jolie, Bette Midler, Catherine
Zeta-Jones, Charles Barkley, Clark Gable, Coretta
Scott King, Dennis Quaid, Don Henley, Don Johnson, Helen Keller, Jackson Browne, Joe
Vitale, Liv Tyler, Michael Losier, Mick Jagger, Nancy Laine, Ron Howard, Steven
Spielberg, Wayne Parker, Willie Nelson</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>Those with a Life Path of 5 seek freedom above all else.
They are adventurers, have a restless nature, and
are on the go, constantly seeking change and variety in life. They have a free spirit
and need to have variety in their day. If they do not live the adventure, their lives become
way too dramatic. They love meeting new people, trying new things, and living
life for today, and curiosity leads them to
constantly try to find the answers to life's questions. “Conservative” is a word that is
probably never used to describe them, as they love taking risks and hate routine and
repetition. Fives have a hard time settling down and have a fear of
being trapped or smothered in a relationship. Their
love of freedom extends beyond concern only for their own freedom, and they have a
genuine concern for the freedom and welfare of others. Although Fives are extremely
compassionate, their focus on adventure and curiosity can also distract them and keep them
from being aware of the feelings of those around them. Furthermore, because they are always seeking the next adventure, their
life can lack direction, and this can cause them to become discontent and impatient. Fives are very persuasive and excel at motivating people, which makes them ideal candidates to become salesmen.
Any career requiring travel is also a great fit for those with Life Path number 5 since it will keep them away from the routine of
many other jobs. Otherwise, they may feel a sense of restlessness if they get stuck in a
mundane or repetitive job environment. Fives are also very
versatile, which makes many other career choices suitable for them. A person with a lot of 5's in their chart will want to be
their own boss. This person will not enjoy working a 9 to
5 job where they have to report to someone else each day. Life path number 5 is the number of freedom and change.
Below are some key points you might want to take
into consideration to help you on your path …</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Aim for a career that lets you have adventures. You are
capable of great originality in both thought and action.
You could do something as dramatic as being a photographer for National
Geographic or as simple as being a flight attendant. You can be self-indulgent, especially if you let yourself
get bored. Allow yourself to enjoy your spirit of
adventure, and you'll be able to find excitement in a walk around the block. If you can't travel, at least try new restaurants. You are sensual but don't bask in it. Don't forget to learn
about yourself and other people while you explore.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">lifepath 5 explanation from:
http://theseventhlifepath.com/numerology<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I am not a 5 Lifepath, rather I have the destiny energy 5 which will follow me all of my life until I fulfill it. (I am a lifepath 4, needer of security that holds back the 5.)</p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-65424215065409242652023-04-14T14:38:00.001-05:002023-04-14T14:38:09.340-05:00Lifepath 4: The Need for Security/Teacher<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><a href="https://www.thehappynewslady.com/2012/04/life-path-4-need-for-securityby-diane.html" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Life Path 4 .......The Need for Security....</a> <br /></h3><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">You can find out what your lifepath number is by adding the day - month - and year you were born.</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">God gave you your date of birth and your parents gave you your name. The first three numbers in the</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">additions of numerology are from your parents...not to be discussed until later. The next two numbers</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">are from God and this one might be yours! Let's say your date of birth is 11 - 12 - 1988. You would</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> add 1 + 1 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 9 + 8 + 8 = 31 = 4<br />People with a Life Path number 4 are the worker bees of society. If your Life Path is a 4 you are</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> determined, practical, and hard-working. Down-to-earth is a term that is probably often used to</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> describe you. You find hard work rewarding and don't look for the easy way to the top or to find</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> success. Not only do you work hard yourself, but you expect the same from those around you.<br /><br />The Fours like to be organized, and to put things back in their " proper place" … it is one of their</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> strong points, and they feel better able to tackle challenges if they have a solid plan in place</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> beforehand. They tend to be set in their ways and are drawn to leading an orderly life ie. "a place</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> for everything and everything in its place." Home is their haven, and if their home environment</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> appears sloppy and unkempt, that is a sign that a Life Path 4 person is not doing well.<br /><br />They are usually very cerebral and need to find ways to relax their minds. Otherwise, great ideas</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> live and die in their heads. They have a strong sense of right and wrong, are very honest, and</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> value honesty in others. Four’s dreams are based on reality and they never question that you will</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> have to work hard to make them come true. Loyal and very dependable, they make an excellent</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">friend or partner but may have just a small circle of friends.<br /><br />On the negative side, Fours can be so set in their ways that they can often come across as</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">stubborn, rigid, or too serious. They also have a tendency to overlook tact and let their true feelings</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> be known to all those around them, which can sometimes turn other people away from them. </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">Although practical and good planners, Fours are extremely cautious and don't deviate much from</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> their master plan, and because of this can sometimes miss opportunities that arise because they</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> don't act on them quickly enough.<br /><br />Life path number 4 is about putting all the pieces together, it is a builder number. You are grounded,</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> serious, hardworking, analytical, practical, and disciplined. Below are some key points you might want</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"> to take into consideration to help you on your path …<br /><br /><i>You are the practical, content one in the crowd. You are probably drawn to building or construction,</i></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><i> although you would also be a good lawyer, mechanic, engineer, or accountant. Whatever path you</i></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><i> choose, don't hesitate to teach those around you.<br /><br />Don't let yourself get bored. You have a tendency towards complacency when you think</i></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><i> everything is under control. Don't let it blind you to new opportunities and projects.<br /><br />You'll lean towards depression and fatigue if you don't get enough fun and relaxation. Relaxing</i></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><i> isn't one of your talents, so do something active to recharge. Go to Disneyland and see how many</i></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><i> rides you can do in one day. Backpacking might be just the thing for you.<br /><br />You would probably enjoy volunteering in some way. Look for something that lets you pass on </i></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><i>your skills to others.</i><br /><em>(this information from: <a href="http://theseventhlifepath.com/" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;">http://theseventhlifepath.com</a></em><br /><br />Important people with the lifepath 4:<br /><br /><dd>Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bernie "BJ" Dohrmann, <a class="body_linkSM" href="http://www.tokenrock.com/numerology/files/report-gates.pdf" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Bill Gates</a>, Billy Graham, <a class="body_linkSM" href="http://www.tokenrock.com/numerology/files/report-bono.pdf" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Bono</a>, Brad Pitt,</dd><dd> Bryan Adams **, Caroline Myss, Dale Earnhardt **, Dean Martin **, Demi Moore, Elton John,</dd><dd> Frank Sinatra, Gary Craig, Jewel, John Assaraf **, John Kerry **, Marie Curie, Montel Williams,</dd><dd>Nicole Kidman, Norm Shealy, <a class="body_linkSM" href="http://www.tokenrock.com/numerology/sample_report.php#oprah" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;">Oprah Winfrey</a>, Sir Paul McCartney **<a class="body_linkSM" href="http://www.tokenrock.com/numerology/sample_report.php#branson" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;">Sir Richard Branson</a> **</dd><dd> </dd>The people with the asterisks are 22 lifepaths. They are here to change society in a master way.</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">They are chosen ones to change the world. If they cannot their 22 turns BACK into a 4 vibration.</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">My Daughter Lindz is a 4 Lifepath. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufrjAFSPNxPEtjjplUV83H80V2KhsJ9SjkYn3SaN8_PB3oOI9LzB753CU1mLZryKUcZHxf5wHeSwTHeBbez69H-ULu0mxw3ddEeA_42ghPqz0NyI8sE6UAKCjTwpEf79hA0kYBCrnIVRNQlDoGwjOimqgLAKq46suhITK-DtKBbGElXqiYTldHghe/s1680/61479007_10158368103962542_8725695072252723200_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1680" data-original-width="1120" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufrjAFSPNxPEtjjplUV83H80V2KhsJ9SjkYn3SaN8_PB3oOI9LzB753CU1mLZryKUcZHxf5wHeSwTHeBbez69H-ULu0mxw3ddEeA_42ghPqz0NyI8sE6UAKCjTwpEf79hA0kYBCrnIVRNQlDoGwjOimqgLAKq46suhITK-DtKBbGElXqiYTldHghe/s320/61479007_10158368103962542_8725695072252723200_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1573932147229796175" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;"><br /></div>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-67472619241778508092023-04-11T15:09:00.002-05:002023-04-11T15:09:16.656-05:00Lifepath # Three: Nuumerology <p> Lifepath 3.... Numerology....... by Juliana Rowe aka D.Ogden </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">To find out your lifepath: Add the day of your birth
and year of birth. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For instance: Hillary Rodham Clinton was born on October 26th,
1947: <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">10 + 26 + 1947 = 1983 = 21 = 3)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b>People with a Life Path number 3</b> have a very high level of
creativity and self-expression. This abundance of creative energy, and the ease with which
they are able to communicate in all areas, both
written word and verbal, could lead them to become a poet, actors, writers, artists, or musicians.
In fact, many writers, radio broadcasters, actors, singers, performers, and counselors share
this life path number. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMSTl1lS833ABZ3uh50s97ENUylAuSXav6wNtPjqOFWbv-f2xqQXVPAa-gFUzhaV-UWgBJaR2pWr2vKH5zhpTorEtSxbf8jBKZg5EvPCHtIPL0rYLfXKsOkMFHC0i2fi7SZsU433_yJi8LoISD2qGRieEpGldcXpVgl9PSuWNyYKyQtZGKqNSEloK/s2048/Farren4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="921" data-original-width="2048" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMSTl1lS833ABZ3uh50s97ENUylAuSXav6wNtPjqOFWbv-f2xqQXVPAa-gFUzhaV-UWgBJaR2pWr2vKH5zhpTorEtSxbf8jBKZg5EvPCHtIPL0rYLfXKsOkMFHC0i2fi7SZsU433_yJi8LoISD2qGRieEpGldcXpVgl9PSuWNyYKyQtZGKqNSEloK/s320/Farren4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>That is my son #4. He is a Lifepath 3.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Threes are optimistic, extremely generous, and giving souls,
and are able to find positivity in everything around
them. People like to be around them, not only because of these qualities, but also because
Threes have charismatic personalities, are great listeners, and are very conscious of other
people's feelings and emotions. They can easily put the people around them at ease and make
them feel comfortable. Because they enjoy living life to the fullest, Threes tend
to live life for today and not worry about tomorrow. They
have a hard time taking responsibilities seriously, and probably aren't very good with money,
partly because they feel so positive about life they figure everything will work itself out
fine. This can sometimes lead those with a Life Path of 3 to live
superficially, a lack of
direction in their life, and procrastinate. When they are hurt emotionally, threes tend to withdraw and
become moody, and can sometimes make biting
comments to lash out at people around them. They can be manic-depressive if they do
not use their creative energy and tend to exaggerate the truth.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Life path number 3 is a strong vibration, one of creative
self-expression, independence, playfulness, and
communication. Below are some key points you might want to take into consideration to help
you on your path …You have to be who you are. You are a joyful spirit, and
probably talented, witty, and charming. Don't settle for the
superficial, but use those qualities as ways to dive deeper into your own soul. Aim for a career that lets you express yourself. You could
head for entertaining, but you would also be a great designer, jeweler, writer, or
hairdresser. You're good at seeing the overall structure of whatever you're working on. Remain open-minded.
Do the essential things first, then look for the frosting. Don't be afraid to
be ambitious.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">From: www.tokenrock.com <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Alan Alda, Alec Baldwin, Andrew Weil, Barbara Walters, Bill
Cosby, Bob Vadas, Christina Aguilera, David Bowie, Enya,
Hillary Clinton, Jack Welch, Jimmy Buffett, Jodie Foster, John Travolta, Josh Grobin, Linda
McCartney, Mary J Blige, Melanie Griffith, Pierce Brosnan, Scott Baio, Shania Twain, Snoop
Dogg, Sonny Barger</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> www.seventhlifepath.com</p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-4054716757492444072023-04-09T12:29:00.002-05:002023-04-09T18:18:30.786-05:00Numerology Lifepath 2<p> Lifepath 2.... Numerology by Julianna
Rowe aka Diane O </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdognVWLczKTdsjsdF-vTqL3lNY7NxxOWGu_8zf_7AV6bOEs6C1cVgcKEzGhahBJU9HaXIya9ep_05wL0lydXGzkh0EsBDk0WJpzVQ6kX97wJevy3k85GsPGSsl_e2spUjArueFUzGY99d0VM4xdZobRwA9SqNtzQrGLgorVcWu3mLLLi-Blt4ucp/s320/Grace%20009.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhdognVWLczKTdsjsdF-vTqL3lNY7NxxOWGu_8zf_7AV6bOEs6C1cVgcKEzGhahBJU9HaXIya9ep_05wL0lydXGzkh0EsBDk0WJpzVQ6kX97wJevy3k85GsPGSsl_e2spUjArueFUzGY99d0VM4xdZobRwA9SqNtzQrGLgorVcWu3mLLLi-Blt4ucp/s1600/Grace%20009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p> </o:p>First of all that is my dog! She
hates conflict too. And the handsome man is my son who has a Lifepath 2. To find out your Lifepath number and the
energies you carry with you all your life... add the month, day,
and year you were born. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">September 21, 1978 9 + 2 + 1 + 1 + 9 + 7 + 9 = 11 = 2 <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">God gave you the day you were
born! Well, unless some doctor decided
to induce you early for whatever I hope Godly reason. And your parents gave you your name so you
can blame them if you've had a hell of a
life. Actually, all you have to do is
change your name. Or change one letter of it! If you are married to a 2
lifepath just know that person needs to know they are loved. They are mediators. They do not like conflict and
are sensitive!</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">The following information is
learned from Glynis Has Your Number book which can be ordered online at her website with the same name. She is amazing at explaining numerology in a
very understanding manner.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Lifepath 2 Vibration: The Mediator </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHeWsQoPuWwfWeySX6jeCMfVv-WOvcSpROcgoIXR885UVI9zxjpkeW6fpTYQTHtYZ_aLFFXKvIkCgXL1AVo63pXQO88Zn3T_RKv5jxOGt9yvqcSkvh6sFXLY66P7s7WgSMCSrA-z3VghnZRETE9dxUO55y_miaqpRFjpcX28IXmL5ccCQYutJ_9LU/s320/Cody%20Ogden%20573.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="214" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUHeWsQoPuWwfWeySX6jeCMfVv-WOvcSpROcgoIXR885UVI9zxjpkeW6fpTYQTHtYZ_aLFFXKvIkCgXL1AVo63pXQO88Zn3T_RKv5jxOGt9yvqcSkvh6sFXLY66P7s7WgSMCSrA-z3VghnZRETE9dxUO55y_miaqpRFjpcX28IXmL5ccCQYutJ_9LU/s1600/Cody%20Ogden%20573.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">This person is someone who is
seeking harmony in life. They do not
want conflict. Music has an especially soothing effect on them. They are easygoing. They look for love. If you want someone who is affectionate, you should seek a
2 lifepath number because they do like hugs and kisses.
Unless all their other numbers are moving them away from it, it's their
natural way. They are mediators and dislike
conflict and will do whatever it takes to avoid it. If there are two people in their lives fighting, they'll
try to fix it. 2's tend to be
psychic. They have dreams that tend to come true. They also experience deja vu. It's never a problem for them to follow; they don't have to be a leader. Because of
their natural psychic ability, they tend to be good at astrology, Numerology, tarot reading, tea
leaf reading, and "I Ching." They also are
good at counseling and social work. They have tremendous compassion for people,
and 2's don't like to be alone.
They crave unconditional love and make great parents, who tend to be
friends with their children.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">2's don't need the spotlight.
They'll do the job. As a matter of fact,
they are the type of number that would donate to a
charity in secret. They would just do it
out of the kindness of their heart. 2's need to bring people
together and they're the ones to see when looking for anything from a dentist to a
carpenter. They know everyone and love
to help them out. The only time a 2 gets angry is if they feel
pushed or threatened. Otherwise, they are
easygoing.
If you look into their eyes, you can just see what good people they
are. That's just where they come from. The flip side of a 2 is that every so often
you might meet a 2 who feels they do everything for everybody and they feel
drained. Yet if you know them
personally, you may feel they are giving themselves too
much credit. So simply, if you look at a
number (and I tend to go towards the positive of who they are), there are two sides -- the positive and the
negative. I still think it's important,
when it comes to a 2, to keep in mind
that they are here to love others and to be loved in return. If you work with them, they will definitely come through for you. 2's have to be careful not to take on the problems of
the people they love. My (Glynis McCants) analogy for the 2 is that if they saw someone in a well, and
the person said, "Help me," the 2 would jump in and ask, "What's wrong?" only to
look up and say, "Oh God now we're both in here."So it's important for the 2 to
have passionate empathy but to stand back and say, "Okay I'm sorry that
happened, but it's your problem. I'll
help as best I can but I'm not going to get in it with
you." 2's have to be careful not to place themselves at another's disposal because eventually, they
will get angry and resentful. 2 often worries about what others think of them. Of course, you have to stop and say,
"What people think of me is none of my business." 2's have to let
these criticisms be like water off a duck's back. It's important that the 2 keeps the peace, but not
at the cost of their sanity. When a situation gets too extreme
-- and the 2 is surrounded by emotional vampires, who are taking all their energy - It's OK to
just walk away. Otherwise, what you
don't deal with mentally will eventually attack you
physically, and that's why 2's can wind up with physical problems. 2 vibrations, although they do
tend to be peacemakers and seek harmony when they feel threatened or pushed to the wall and get
upset, it is like a volcano erupting.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Famous people with Lifepath 2: Information gathered from www.tokenrock.com <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Al Gore * Barack Obama * Bill Clinton * Bob Hope Colin Powell * Jackie Kennedy *Jennifer Aniston</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Madonna* Meg Ryan* Michael Jordan * Prince Charles * Richard Burton* Robert Monroe *</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">Ronald Reagan * Rose Kennedy * Rush Limbaugh * Terri Irwin * Tim McGraw *</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">If you would like to know your lifepath send me your name and date of birth at: </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">dianeogden.ogden@gmail.com</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><br /></h3>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-24657314301696807032023-04-08T08:46:00.003-05:002023-04-08T08:46:22.138-05:00Lifepath #9 in Numerology<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVfRAkP2-_VSQLxXf94FwYJe7oJ05B8JuuEzKalk1KP7uK6BXFruivfdueoF1yqVB22gwk0HQ8x8maGP_SI3iXrMVa6iOCRh5YVCZM4mk3TyfctqqgYwhJoe3whPje7IE59eyUBZ7LZpbym6EuUrqbq8b8c49UkflC44DXaL8y3v1DD6xufhiHsEC/s1024/elvis_presley_12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinVfRAkP2-_VSQLxXf94FwYJe7oJ05B8JuuEzKalk1KP7uK6BXFruivfdueoF1yqVB22gwk0HQ8x8maGP_SI3iXrMVa6iOCRh5YVCZM4mk3TyfctqqgYwhJoe3whPje7IE59eyUBZ7LZpbym6EuUrqbq8b8c49UkflC44DXaL8y3v1DD6xufhiHsEC/s320/elvis_presley_12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><br /></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><a href="https://www.thehappynewslady.com/2012/03/numerology-9-lifepath-by-diane-ogden.html" style="color: #336699; text-decoration-line: none;">Numerology 9 LifePath ......</a></h3><div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.5px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1.5em;"><div class="post-header-line-1"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5862601960556713549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">You can find out what your lifepath is by adding up the month/day/year. <br />Example: 11-22-1947 1 + 1 + 2 + 2 + 1 + 9 + 4 + 7 = 27 = 9<br /><br />The 9 lifepath energy is a humanitarian. A giver. Executive Leader. The 9 usually also has issues with</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5862601960556713549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">one or both parents where they feel either abandoned or totally responsible for one or both parents. </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5862601960556713549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">They have an attachment to their original family and need to let go of them. And sometimes the </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5862601960556713549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">9 lifepath shows signs that someone has messed with their confidence. The 9 needs to be needed. </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5862601960556713549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">9's are always taking care of people. But, many times they live in the past. 9's need to lighten up </div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5862601960556713549" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 888px;">and forgive themselves for being human. They need to stay positive. 9's make good <b>writers,</b> reporters, doctors, nurses, lecturers, artists, illustrators, and social workers.<br /><br />Rock Hudson = 9 lifepath<br />Tom Jones = 9 Lifepath <br />Lisa Marie Presley = 9 Lifepath<br />Lance Armstrong = 9 Lifepath<br />Anthony Hopkins = 9 Lifepath<br />Garth Brooks = 9 Lifepath<br />Shirley MacClaine = 9 Lifepath<br />Camilla Parker Bowles = 9 Lifepath<br />Frank Lloyd Wright = 9 Lifepath<br />Ricky Martin = 9 Lifepath<br />Mahatma Gandhi = 9 Lifepath<br />Whitney Houston = 9 Lifepath<br />Robin Williams - 9 Lifepath<br />Kurt Russell = 9 Lifepath<br />Harrison Ford = 9 Lifepath<br />Elvis Presley = 9 Lifepath plus his name adds up to 22 master number<br />Bob Marley = 9 Lifepath<br />Ricky Nelson = 9 Lifepath<br />Jimi Hendrix = 9 Lifepath<br />George Burns = 9 Lifepath<br />Alan Greenspan = 9 Lifepath<br />Charles Lindbergh = 9 Lifepath<br /><b>Me = Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden = 9 Lifepath</b><br /><br />Some of my information is learned from the book: <em>Glynis Has Your Number</em><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-57549547433608277252023-04-06T18:57:00.001-05:002023-04-06T18:57:49.228-05:00At The Heart of all TRAUMA..... ( by Jeff Foster)<p> </p><div style="background-color: white; color: #1c1e21; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><div class="x1cy8zhl x78zum5 x1q0g3np xod5an3 x1pi30zi x1swvt13 xz9dl7a" style="align-items: flex-start; display: flex; flex-direction: row; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 12px; padding-left: 16px; padding-right: 16px; padding-top: 12px;"><div class="x1iyjqo2" style="flex-grow: 1; font-family: inherit;"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u" style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: -5px; margin-top: -5px;"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xi81zsa x1yc453h" color="var(--secondary-text)" dir="auto" style="display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; line-height: 1.3333; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><h4 class="x1heor9g x1qlqyl8 x1pd3egz x1a2a7pz x1gslohp x1yc453h" id=":rmb:" style="color: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; font-weight: inherit; margin: 4px 0px 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px;"><span class="xt0psk2" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv xzsf02u x1s688f" href="https://www.facebook.com/LifeWithoutACentre?__cft__[0]=AZUBrFJSHxX8SI7zxpk8NmVngCv3ecM12_PacfyaXrmT_Rrs9E9WIqii9qpOzG6B7zQ1HAxmBBt9n2QIJY4ux7r_f6cQp36Ubd6mc4EDXmI30Q5A6DX1YISSl8ku7rfpczWWMMYjaRwzWGloh_2HZak8OBsU-QOY7n2fX4Z3jAxE9BHS_-e1mQsi7F7PwAa1GtE&__tn__=-UC%2CP-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-weight: 600; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeff Foster (www.lifewithoutacentre.com)</span></a></span></h4></span></div><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x x4zkp8e x676frb x1nxh6w3 x1sibtaa xo1l8bm xi81zsa x1yc453h" color="var(--secondary-text)" dir="auto" style="display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.8125rem; line-height: 1.2308; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><span id=":rmc:" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="x4k7w5x x1h91t0o x1h9r5lt xv2umb2 x1beo9mf xaigb6o x12ejxvf x3igimt xarpa2k xedcshv x1lytzrv x1t2pt76 x7ja8zs x1qrby5j x1jfb8zj" style="align-items: inherit; align-self: inherit; display: inherit; flex-direction: inherit; flex: inherit; font-family: inherit; height: inherit; max-height: inherit; max-width: inherit; min-height: inherit; min-width: inherit; place-content: inherit; width: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;"><span aria-labelledby=":rmj:" class="x1rg5ohu x6ikm8r x10wlt62 x16dsc37 xt0b8zv" style="display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; overflow: hidden; vertical-align: top;"><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1g77sc7" style="cursor: inherit; display: flex; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 0; position: relative;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz x1heor9g xt0b8zv xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/LifeWithoutACentre/posts/pfbid02ECajZp67GgMo8pePLxX9dqCk8w9uMcXA1C4V6wAzNBRhkDb9CpcxE2YUnb8XpMnSl?__cft__[0]=AZUBrFJSHxX8SI7zxpk8NmVngCv3ecM12_PacfyaXrmT_Rrs9E9WIqii9qpOzG6B7zQ1HAxmBBt9n2QIJY4ux7r_f6cQp36Ubd6mc4EDXmI30Q5A6DX1YISSl8ku7rfpczWWMMYjaRwzWGloh_2HZak8OBsU-QOY7n2fX4Z3jAxE9BHS_-e1mQsi7F7PwAa1GtE&__tn__=%2CO%2CP-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation;" tabindex="0"><span class="x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x13rv6gb urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 28; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">o</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xlmi2g5 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 35; position: absolute; top: 3em;">s</span><span class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x8onsx5 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 48; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">r</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1sjo555 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 10; position: absolute; top: 3em;">S</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xi695je urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 14; position: absolute; top: 3em;">p</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xax70vg urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 57; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">d</span><span class="x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xgeagd7 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 46; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">o</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1o75cna urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 49; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">e</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x9ek82g urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 1; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">t</span><span class="xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1vqz4hg urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 33; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">n</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x4pqqfc urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 54; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">t</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xde8tdn urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 52; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">t</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1meexak urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 55; position: absolute; top: 3em;">0</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x434fd urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 20; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">u</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1pt730z urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 47; position: absolute; top: 3em;">h</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x2r4l8e urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 8; position: absolute; top: 3em;">c</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1pvdv19 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 45; position: absolute; top: 3em;">h</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xal98gn urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 16; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">l</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1n901it urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 13; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">u</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xd1zjae urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 27; position: absolute; top: 3em;">8</span><span class="x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1nicfno urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 59; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">g</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xv5skbt urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 30; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">4</span><span class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1eopwuj" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 23; position: relative; text-decoration: inherit;">2</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x7zgzr6 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 56; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">u</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x8o8amb urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 43; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">m</span><span class="xmper1u x15bjb6t xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1o7lsid urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 15; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">a</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x14yy4lh urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 2; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">l</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xzfnrur urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 42; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">m</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xwmoq1i urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 18; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">m</span><span class="xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x8az3br urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 32; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">6</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x4ffpxb urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 51; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">l</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x7txf1f urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 24; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">m</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1hzvdaj" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 34; position: relative;">h</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xclvua8 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 60; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">4</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xdc8zo0 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 53; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">4</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xt3tw32 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 26; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">l</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xnlcnb7 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 31; position: absolute; top: 3em;">3</span><span class="xmper1u x15bjb6t xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1xxvtuq urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 38; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">1</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xsmz2so urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 37; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">u</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1h3rv7z urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 5; position: absolute; top: 3em;">h</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xnt8be4 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 29; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">m</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1hrcb2b urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 6; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">5</span><span class="xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1wx7m7v urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 50; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">6</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x182iqb8 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 4; position: absolute; top: 3em;">c</span><span class="xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xpchg7c urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 40; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">f</span><span class="xmper1u x15bjb6t xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1ihsnu5 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 44; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">i</span><span class="xmper1u x1qlqyl8 x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1esxh7v urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 7; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">2</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1ee9ax4 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 39; position: absolute; top: 3em;">0</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x16kj9vd urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 22; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">u</span><span class="xmper1u x15bjb6t xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xhp99yf urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; font-family: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 41; position: absolute; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">a</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xccpzn3 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 58; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">5</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1ocldi urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 12; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">u</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1162wnf urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 25; position: absolute; top: 3em;">c</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 xo1ph6p urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 3; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">t</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1g88jzi urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 11; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">t</span><span class="x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1r8a4m5 xi7du73 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1wa695h urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 36; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em; vertical-align: inherit;">m</span><span class="xmper1u xt0psk2 xjb2p0i x1qlqyl8 x15bjb6t x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x1iapmwa urhKlDoA ydCy" style="cursor: inherit; display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; order: 9; position: absolute; top: 3em;">h</span><span class="xjb2p0i x1r8a4m5 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x4g1k81 urhKlDoA ydCy" style="font-family: inherit; order: 21; position: absolute; text-decoration: inherit; top: 3em;">l</span><span class="xt0psk2 x1qlqyl8 x1n2onr6 x17ihmo5 x36lzlx urhKlDoA ydCy" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: inherit; order: 19; position: absolute; top: 3em;">c</span></a></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div></div></div><div class="xqcrz7y x78zum5 x1qx5ct2 x1y1aw1k x1sxyh0 xwib8y2 xurb0ha xw4jnvo" style="align-self: flex-start; display: flex; font-family: inherit; height: 20px; padding: 8px; width: 20px;"><div style="font-family: inherit;"><div aria-expanded="false" aria-haspopup="menu" aria-label="Actions for this post" class="x1i10hfl x1qjc9v5 xjqpnuy xa49m3k xqeqjp1 x2hbi6w x9f619 x1ypdohk xdl72j9 x2lah0s xe8uvvx x2lwn1j xeuugli x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1ja2u2z x1t137rt x1o1ewxj x3x9cwd x1e5q0jg x13rtm0m x1q0g3np x87ps6o x1lku1pv x1a2a7pz xjyslct xjbqb8w x13fuv20 xu3j5b3 x1q0q8m5 x26u7qi x972fbf xcfux6l x1qhh985 xm0m39n x3nfvp2 xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x1n2onr6 x3ajldb x194ut8o x1vzenxt xd7ygy7 xt298gk x1xhcax0 x1s928wv x10pfhc2 x1j6awrg x1v53gu8 x1tfg27r xitxdhh" role="button" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; 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color: #1c1e21; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><div class="x1iorvi4 x1pi30zi x1swvt13 x1l90r2v" data-ad-comet-preview="message" data-ad-preview="message" id=":rmd:" style="font-family: inherit; padding: 4px 16px 16px;"><div class="x78zum5 xdt5ytf xz62fqu x16ldp7u" style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: -5px; margin-top: -5px;"><div class="xu06os2 x1ok221b" style="font-family: inherit; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u x1yc453h" color="var(--primary-text)" dir="auto" style="display: block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0.9375rem; line-height: 1.3333; max-width: 100%; min-width: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; word-break: break-word;"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xdj266r x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">AT THE HEART OF ALL TRAUMA</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">At the heart of all trauma, a terrible sense of isolation, disconnection, loneliness.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Follow your trauma to its devastating core, friend, to its heart of darkness, and you will inevitably meet the abandonment wound, the pain of all pains.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>Abandoned by mother, father. Forgotten and misunderstood by the world. Cast out of heaven and separated from the Godhead. Divided from life.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Of course, it’s an illusion. You were never separate from the mountains, the forests, the diamond drops of morning dew. You were never broken, never rotten at your core, never separate from the One. You were always loved. The terrible heart of darkness was always your own exquisitely beautiful heart of light, so fragile, so powerful, so loveable, so real.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Ultimately others cannot save us. Each of us are called to confront our aloneness, dive into the heart of our trauma, and find solace and sanctuary there. Others can hold our trembling hands but they cannot travel for us. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">There is no external saviour, and the lie of love is that another human being - parent, partner, guru or god - can complete you.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">No. Your completeness is in your brokenness. We cannot save each other but we can weep together, walk together, share our terror, our horror, our shame, our hope and our awe. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Walking in the forest at dawn, our eyes meet. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I recognise your longing as my own.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Love is a recognition. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">- Jeff Foster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0d55795xMpm41-Nk4lbhqyENbD-MUrWkOYeIEV0ZBYRLfX7-94AktKFPzDMKCfvBDKL4L_qk9csg4rumsv05WTr1dtQMZcYQrw6c2tzrszJOQZfHYe7GRKK8-8mfQPYqyUDhIkrU7Dm3CM8M053wl5UATK0AgNkkoSrmDbQelRReEJb_juMBWyAT/s640/339112516_6063504793717723_4060249298189150267_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN0d55795xMpm41-Nk4lbhqyENbD-MUrWkOYeIEV0ZBYRLfX7-94AktKFPzDMKCfvBDKL4L_qk9csg4rumsv05WTr1dtQMZcYQrw6c2tzrszJOQZfHYe7GRKK8-8mfQPYqyUDhIkrU7Dm3CM8M053wl5UATK0AgNkkoSrmDbQelRReEJb_juMBWyAT/w512-h640/339112516_6063504793717723_4060249298189150267_n.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /></div></div></span></div></div></div></div></div>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-46467597974705066942023-04-05T19:57:00.005-05:002023-04-05T19:57:51.780-05:00A POEM BY JUDGE DENNIS CHALLEEN <p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> My Firstborn Son Lives in a Small Box, a Cell</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></b></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">By Judge Dennis Challeen</span><br /></b><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to have self-worth<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgZ7W-pBOrGffsVNlO1UXtRLsh8sIXR_ljcvdZJras4C0lCy6YgqlauUBPhKbg4pToG-2W4ijndtmmqUaZhlL5cj9Mpe62-KCDuy6__sRT6aUO2flEkLlYX2vWMfLGvhDHGC7GGpmIda51iZCWxzOxO-Vp8Zb0feh19Z3kAnvIHOOp3bvOjAdsqY1/s400/DanTheseWalls%20001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="287" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgZ7W-pBOrGffsVNlO1UXtRLsh8sIXR_ljcvdZJras4C0lCy6YgqlauUBPhKbg4pToG-2W4ijndtmmqUaZhlL5cj9Mpe62-KCDuy6__sRT6aUO2flEkLlYX2vWMfLGvhDHGC7GGpmIda51iZCWxzOxO-Vp8Zb0feh19Z3kAnvIHOOp3bvOjAdsqY1/w288-h400/DanTheseWalls%20001.jpg" width="288" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">So we destroy their self-worth<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to be responsible<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we take away all responsibility<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to be positive and constructive<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we degrade them and make them useless<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to be trustworthy<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we put them where there is no trust<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to be non-violent<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we put them where violence is all around them<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to be kind and loving people<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we subject them to hatred and cruelty<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to quit being the tough guy<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we put them where the tough guy is respected<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to quit hanging around losers<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we put all the losers under one roof<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to quit exploiting us<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we put them where they exploit each other<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">We want them to take control of their lives, own problems
and quit being a parasite...<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">So we make them totally dependent on us</span><o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-24170449758821351382023-04-04T13:10:00.000-05:002023-04-04T13:10:18.457-05:00Gut Instincts........ by Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden<p> </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifwjhnO8uCvCGm-63Dh8-hnVAoA9cT7b38xxKTvno4lA0csS8qJ1AYZvLi27RpET84zwkxL9chhFhnTEBR-hqM5XJXSTPVh1DkH3HIzxtTBT0VUkoWhcp93tSUMxmQrrsF1pDfUA0eM__XckcY7fonU2F-4jOE0HSCRTiYAf7a71o2yZVp--2NLkx/s400/heart-strings-da2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="273" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhifwjhnO8uCvCGm-63Dh8-hnVAoA9cT7b38xxKTvno4lA0csS8qJ1AYZvLi27RpET84zwkxL9chhFhnTEBR-hqM5XJXSTPVh1DkH3HIzxtTBT0VUkoWhcp93tSUMxmQrrsF1pDfUA0eM__XckcY7fonU2F-4jOE0HSCRTiYAf7a71o2yZVp--2NLkx/s320/heart-strings-da2.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>My friend and mentor always told me to make decisions using
my "gut." You know, as in "gut instincts?" Well, it stinks
alright because what starts in my head ends up like scrambled eggs or Humpty
Dumpty that can't get put back together again....Or like a big ball of
unraveling string. And we are all learning or have learned that what we think
is what we get. Oh great, now I can think about how I can be put back together
again, like Humpty or Scrambled Eggs. If made incorrectly without following the
"gut instinct," some decisions could have those not-so-good
consequences. Yikes...how to cut the ball of unraveling string that leads to
the heart and causes heart strings, and those strings don't live too far from
the poor "gut" that is trying to unravel the mess and come out with a
clear answer.<br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes I don't do anything regarding a decision that
allows life to decide for me...again, not-so-good, I have found out through
trial and error. How much error can the mind and body handle? Pretty much from
my experience. Not that I wish to experience such again. Letting life make my
journey vs. mwah, that is!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> So, is my gut half
full or half empty? Or is my brain half full or half empty? Don't answer that!</p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfj-Dlvbps1qpNCwSSsok2KcDAQUuq-iItqoWjVlM85mBknDLqtH4jrfhgY9Tg31Aa1_ELr5T6sfVlDn5a70T6MAM_rBgOOPH0srDZoBV5mJI7_3QIbHd_pgPzu_uWB1jdZEDtseBKGlIyoFJneGBDY-TFMqa55Rcogdogv7aR7zNBfy3rmIP7qSO/s1920/WIN_20210611_21_55_36_Pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfj-Dlvbps1qpNCwSSsok2KcDAQUuq-iItqoWjVlM85mBknDLqtH4jrfhgY9Tg31Aa1_ELr5T6sfVlDn5a70T6MAM_rBgOOPH0srDZoBV5mJI7_3QIbHd_pgPzu_uWB1jdZEDtseBKGlIyoFJneGBDY-TFMqa55Rcogdogv7aR7zNBfy3rmIP7qSO/s320/WIN_20210611_21_55_36_Pro.jpg" width="320" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><br />Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-72544799824026042712023-04-03T16:16:00.002-05:002023-04-03T16:16:45.612-05:00The Thorny Stem Keep the blossom Alive By Julianna Rowe aka, Diane Ogden<p class="MsoNormal">The Thorny Stem</p><p class="MsoNormal">I often work out of my car, so listening to Audio Books has
replaced negative politics and talk radio. The last book was a true story by
Richard Paul Evans called "Finding Noel." It wasn't hostile, but I
cried while driving around the city for four hours while listening to that
book. Well, one hour of it, anyway. Richard's Mother died. No one could find
him; therefore, he missed her funeral. That was just the beginning of this four-hour
story. Richard decided to end his life after losing his scholarship, his job,
his fiance of four years, and then his Mother when a young girl came upon him
in the middle of a snowstorm. Yes, he fell in love with her. Her name was Macy,
and her Mother died when she was 6. The Father was a drug addict. Therefore,
she was separated from her baby sister Noel, age 4. The prominent family
adopted Noel, and somebody beat Macy constantly at her new home. Macy ran away,
and a woman named Jo saved Macy from a shelter on Thanksgiving years later.
(Sure, right, Thanksgiving!)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKYVMInG58Axb23_OehVBl0D__qwi-2ZYFnhBs3TelqSHVUm9ZoK3XKFcWNxe9Jtq4ZqS6SKQlsGiovBEvC6Z2Bou7inUmPqV1YgXpg_dP_N0bSqaNcRvF4Y7eydECNmXiUZaKq78gPH-hNuP9JR9nqccD-Ix6aHOkaAWEXuul8D5DKm9bd1n8oS4/s320/tommyesblognatashap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="320" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKYVMInG58Axb23_OehVBl0D__qwi-2ZYFnhBs3TelqSHVUm9ZoK3XKFcWNxe9Jtq4ZqS6SKQlsGiovBEvC6Z2Bou7inUmPqV1YgXpg_dP_N0bSqaNcRvF4Y7eydECNmXiUZaKq78gPH-hNuP9JR9nqccD-Ix6aHOkaAWEXuul8D5DKm9bd1n8oS4/s1600/tommyesblognatashap.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Richard talked Macy into finding her long-lost sister after
he was hired to play guitar at the Java Junction, where she worked. To cut this
short, Jo adopted Macy even tho she was an adult. Jo died of Cancer....Noel found Macy.....they
had each been given a Christmas Ornament from their natural Mother before she
died, with Noel written on it. Noel accidentally broke hers while in college
and found a letter from her real Mother inside telling Noel the truth that her
adoptive family refused to do. The girls figured their dead Mother made the ornament
break. I believe that. Richard found out his Father wasn't his Father while
visiting his Mother's grave. Stu, the stand-in "Father," showed
Richard a gravestone that belonged to his real Father and the man his Mother had
loved all her life. He was killed in Vietnam and was an avid guitar player. (Go
figure)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">And that is why Stu never treated Richard very well. Ah Ha!
Well, all ended happily....Macy and Richard married and had three children.
What's my point?<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">My dream was to help children who needed love by adopting
them. So I did that for a few years. In fact, both of my precious foster girls
graduated, have had children, and are doing well. People don't realize what these children go
through, but I seem to understand.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">At the end of Richard's book, he says we "fixate on the
blossoms.....when it is the thorny stem that keeps the blossom alive." It
keeps the plant alive only to get a few blossoms throughout its life. I say we
are the same as the rose. We must learn to appreciate the everyday thorns
because without them there is no life and no blossoms, ever.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b>Don't ya hate it when people try to give you a fast rundown of a book they just read! Me too!</b></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">photo from NatashaP at www.flickr.com<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgMkYV1BxhIgYUeIwcewWi1Eyb8jrJl1CrV60FDuKKmfJ_wJWun9HQqdGq4LF_2FXGMeeQ4JNdkvfZ2CoO6T10sdJ57SpVM_UJPRvn1NoL-sP5Y03w-q-2JC_xwqKZ4Qh9dx5jDRll9wmOTVxgCBIZAbU2i7LRqPvkdHVVRsniqi5wsiTF3ExS0VT/s1920/WIN_20210722_07_22_10_Pro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgMkYV1BxhIgYUeIwcewWi1Eyb8jrJl1CrV60FDuKKmfJ_wJWun9HQqdGq4LF_2FXGMeeQ4JNdkvfZ2CoO6T10sdJ57SpVM_UJPRvn1NoL-sP5Y03w-q-2JC_xwqKZ4Qh9dx5jDRll9wmOTVxgCBIZAbU2i7LRqPvkdHVVRsniqi5wsiTF3ExS0VT/s320/WIN_20210722_07_22_10_Pro.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-12233247958060578272023-04-01T13:59:00.000-05:002023-04-01T13:59:07.783-05:00I Ate Dog Food! By Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhus-OAZ_Li5OlwL4xuzhn5ssiu-c0aDoEYq1iIqTploOp4ICBLKLUNEoUIQmAtSJXjCcT8B-nMeBjhD1p-ZIq65oKXBhUPqEs9NqxmkB7tF2fOCm5dyFcxrDoEYRDboiHTiL07B6ui4IMF5H2cdDvWTKc1ktk_UhHsAuhwWQLhNLtmrc8a07vwmHIJ/s1600/Corn-beef-hash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhus-OAZ_Li5OlwL4xuzhn5ssiu-c0aDoEYq1iIqTploOp4ICBLKLUNEoUIQmAtSJXjCcT8B-nMeBjhD1p-ZIq65oKXBhUPqEs9NqxmkB7tF2fOCm5dyFcxrDoEYRDboiHTiL07B6ui4IMF5H2cdDvWTKc1ktk_UhHsAuhwWQLhNLtmrc8a07vwmHIJ/w400-h266/Corn-beef-hash.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>While I was grocery shopping the other day, which is more
like preparing for outer space travel considering the prices and choices versus
the average pocketbook, I decided to buy a "can" of beef hash. God
only knows why I did that because I don't eat canned beef hash. I eat organic
foods and some Healthy Choice dinners and so on. But there it was this morning
in the pan with the egg. Then the scent came rushing upwards (like at take-off)
into all my senses, and those senses said, "Dog food!" I swear it
smelled like the cheap cans of dog food I used to occasionally heat up for my
dog Gracie Allen. Even her organic dog food smelled better than this beef hash
smelled. So I made a conscious decision to attempt to eat it, thinking maybe it
was purchased out of some beautiful hidden memory from childhood or one of the
better minutes of one of my better marriages. Not! It smelled and tasted like lousy
dog food, and I will never buy it or eat it again unless it is all there is to
go with the bread we will get in the depression bread lines. </p><p>Eeewww. Stop that
talk!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-51274565051614425712023-03-30T18:46:00.002-05:002023-03-30T18:46:12.804-05:00Fruit Cake Lady! by Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">My helper and I arrive at my Psychiatrist Client's home around noon. Upon arrival, we see she is home which never happens. You see we have never met her, she hired me sight unseen.</span><br style="font-size: 14.85px;" /><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">So in we go.... After all the greetings and more salutations, we comment on the wonderful aroma in the air. The psychiatrist says, "Mother is visiting (age 90) and making her famous fruitcake. If you are lucky you will leave with one, and if you are not you won't." <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqnqbUtQ-StkP22dp64s8dsfTDXSSu5JSDGCa5UHIkWz2qLbN3pwA5UWGKDaOmf8nIoxISKhjLe73TfQ0973sVGZHuLz6nHe8WYKYWmEKqDNrxBAOXZyXSk79Jkbji0Tk5q-feHUInYDhxm_TQYX_4mBvp44BiOMRcGMzZiJwITHOJL7fPDu4FB4ao/s410/fainting_couch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="410" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqnqbUtQ-StkP22dp64s8dsfTDXSSu5JSDGCa5UHIkWz2qLbN3pwA5UWGKDaOmf8nIoxISKhjLe73TfQ0973sVGZHuLz6nHe8WYKYWmEKqDNrxBAOXZyXSk79Jkbji0Tk5q-feHUInYDhxm_TQYX_4mBvp44BiOMRcGMzZiJwITHOJL7fPDu4FB4ao/w320-h219/fainting_couch1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">My helper and I finished our work, all the time believing we might get to share the physical sense of said aroma. As I silently watched Grandma sitting in her rocking chair reading, and secretly wondering why she hadn't gotten up to wrap up those two mini fruitcake loaves for us. But there was time. Then I made it a point to tell her I was going to finish up the foyer on my way out. She said it was nice meeting us and we responded likewise. We left and quietly walked to my car....still in great hopes the old lady would hail us back to retrieve two wonderful fruit cakes. Instead, I looked at my helper and said. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">"I guess we aren't lucky huh?" </span></h3><div><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></div><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">My helper said. </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">"Guess not!" </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">All the time I was thinking about what a weird and wrong thing for a psychiatrist to say to us. Just in case Grand </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style="font-size: 14.85px;">Mommie</span><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"> Dearest did not give us a fruitcake, which in fact happened! </span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">I know we are lucky anyway.... just thought the comment interesting. What would the shrinks shrink say was her reason? Wait a minute....you don't think that unlucky thing had anything to do with me forgetting to rinse the pan I made my ham and cheese omelet in this morning, do you? I took one bite and tasted Dawn dish soap. The dog wouldn't even eat it! Yeh, that was a stretch.</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;"><br /></span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;"><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">Or, I better speak to that unlucky stream of words someone sent me and erase it from my Facebook just in case! No more losing fruitcakes for me. My guard is up! </span></h3><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 14.85px;">People can be so interesting! One cannot take anything personally! Lucky me.</span></div>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-64204400272592805422023-03-27T20:25:00.003-05:002023-03-27T20:25:36.840-05:00Observe Dont Absorb by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">About thirty-some-odd years ago,
I gave my heart to pull a family back together.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKX0LYBVjiMis_hj402xumkCnngaFpfpaYQv7qYHPj4l67x4X_bgXZ9KqYLc8__6TsPp7wfZQFPC3YRq91ItMI778iAcWDECJ9O1EjruYQQuy317WwLWwoxjERdRKrq1pTtK1CaHoyc9qB4H7ZQFdFMNhLFSU_nvX59Pknrfpmp9Imp1-j3263o_9Q/s400/001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="291" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKX0LYBVjiMis_hj402xumkCnngaFpfpaYQv7qYHPj4l67x4X_bgXZ9KqYLc8__6TsPp7wfZQFPC3YRq91ItMI778iAcWDECJ9O1EjruYQQuy317WwLWwoxjERdRKrq1pTtK1CaHoyc9qB4H7ZQFdFMNhLFSU_nvX59Pknrfpmp9Imp1-j3263o_9Q/s320/001.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>My mentor
always told me to be an observer and not a participant! Obviously, I didn't listen. It doesn't matter the
reason the family was torn apart, but it was. I forgave, gave, pulled, plugged,
and lost most of myself on that darn journey, only to discover they wouldn't change
at anything I did. Nope, not, nadda. Incredibly stubborn Germans and Norwegians,
and then add some of the "dead people" generational
cells that LOVE to carry on the crap....and that they do with
magnificence. (Wouldnt want to give them too much glory) <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">There came a time back then when I
decided to divorce my emotions from all of them before my heart took a
dive, and one of my kinfolks might try for the last win and bury me in the dirt vs. cremation as I had requested. That particular kin fed me things I was
allergic to, so why wouldn't that specific person bury me in the dirt? That person
would so that they could have a big luncheon dealie to show off. That's what
Lutherans do, you know. Big luncheons for the living after the dying.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Back to my point. D I V O R C
E.....where is George Jones's wife when I need her! What was her name? It starts with
L...no a T, Tammy Wynette. D I V O R C E. Even though my divorce was a divorce
of emotions, it still stood for a legal and final separation. My mentor told me that
I should maintain decency and kindness when I got divorced. She said, "Treat it like you would
treat the Grocery Store Checker Boy!" With decency and
kindness. Most people can barely do that in everyday family situations.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I say
dysfunctional families are more like an egg. They "start out ass-es,"
and they stay ass-es. If you read my blog posts, you know how I dislike the raw egg laying in the pan
with that white milky umbilical cord waiting for me to eat it. I don't, and I won't!
Family is the same! We start with the umbilical cord, and someone cuts it, but
the spiritual milky cloudy (ghosts) still try to hang on and hang out! Some can
let them go, some cannot, and some try to work around the darn things. (The Ghosts,
I mean) I did that, and it didn't work. I did do something wrong. I tried
too hard. I should have OBSERVED only and saved myself.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Today was another should have OBSERVED only day. I wanted to play like Marie Osmond and drive up the coast
(we have no coast) until there was no end or I ran out of gas. It was a long
day—lots of "Stinkin Thinkin" and a lot of Drama from the Mama like a soap opera. (Obviously, I absorbed) I like
creativity, not so much drama. I had a lifetime of it, and enough is enough.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">I’m emotionally ready for: "Paper or Plastic?" Easy peasy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It's a new day, a good day, because I learned to observe not absorb. </p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-67328592879489356642023-03-25T15:14:00.000-05:002023-03-25T15:14:27.012-05:00Which Dating Site? by Julianna Rowe aka Diane Ogden<p> Which Dating Site? by
Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>My sister-in-law urged me to join a dating site, so I
did. She once told me to get a job
selling insurance, so I did, and I was very successful. She tells me all the time that I am not in
charge. God is. Her Dad tells her that, so she passes it on to me. Not sure why
because I know that. Back to match.com,
Silver Singles, E Harmony, and or OurTime. So I filled out the questionnaire and answered
everything as truthfully as possible without scaring anyone off, then submitted
nine photos. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_AR4zAURmbRljZ1zMPeKVqs-h_O0YIpdGCp10q_WljwmgPXD-z8syc32WRCjCow7xYWrg3dw9afwSvNR901Hef8dJJH8ihJDCYvpoC3AX3RjNKU1FysGQwsa5Cjrs6dX3Kn2Pe1l8_j-slDYIk_gnrE8P2o1dvnY-CF5BI5ZOHTFrMDbmjyewTLd/s640/Photo_00641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_AR4zAURmbRljZ1zMPeKVqs-h_O0YIpdGCp10q_WljwmgPXD-z8syc32WRCjCow7xYWrg3dw9afwSvNR901Hef8dJJH8ihJDCYvpoC3AX3RjNKU1FysGQwsa5Cjrs6dX3Kn2Pe1l8_j-slDYIk_gnrE8P2o1dvnY-CF5BI5ZOHTFrMDbmjyewTLd/s320/Photo_00641.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">The main photo is me with
my hair in rollers. I just had to do
it. The good pics were only a click away
if the prospective man could handle the rollers. And so, they did click away, that is. </p><p class="MsoNormal">I met up with one fellow, certainly not a
"gentleman," as he asked me what I would like, and I said, "Ice
Tea," which, after two hours, I had never received. No manners!
I almost forgot; one of the first things he said to me was, "Do you
have to wear those glasses?" <b><span style="color: red;">RED FLAG!</span></b><span style="color: red;"> </span>Need I say more? And he wanted me to go snowshoeing
in the woods. I could borrow his sister's
snow shoes. Seriously? No, thank you... If I couldn't get ice tea
out of him, I am liable not to get back out of the woods with any help from him
what-so-ever. And fishing? Nope, he should have friends by now, men who
like to be quiet and watch a string hang in the water for hours. I would be working on my 25,000 woman words a
day and scaring the fish away! </p><p class="MsoNormal">The next
guy never stopped talking about the roller photo. He didn't understand why I would do such a thing. First of all, he had no sense of humor. If he got 220
emails, he would also put up an ugly one first. But of course, I didn’t want to
say that. He then told me I must not like adoration. So yes, I looked
it up. </p><p class="MsoNormal">Adoration: The act of paying
honor, as to a divine being; worship. Reverent homage. Fervent and devoted
love. And after ten emails with him, it was still under discussion, so, I
deleted the "pretty boy."</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I haven't given up, but so far, 85% of them want a slender,
athletic body-toned woman. <b>Yet they look
like they are about to deliver. Twins
that is. </b> Men! They just don't care about what's under the
boob....its all about the boobs. I am
not fat, and I have boobs and a heart under one of 'em that will continue
looking for a nice fellow that will go fishing <u>without me</u>. I'm just not that into it. And the more I think about it, I might not be
that into this dating site crap either.
Sorry sister-in-law, this is like too much work. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But I am keeping the door open for a fellow who would like good
conversation, laughter, a dance in the kitchen, wandering around the grocery
store together, dinner out on occasion,
and a road trip to anywhere. Rollers not included. <o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-25008018761437554002023-03-22T18:50:00.002-05:002023-03-22T18:50:18.327-05:00The Cleaning Lady...... Will Never Tell! by Julianna Rowe<p> I have a business called "A Green Experience,"
which means my clients choose to have their homes cleaned using all natural
Green (cleaning) supplies. I have seen everything from "erp," and I
don't mean Wyatt, in bathroom trash containers, to enough dog hair from one
cleaning to make forty wigs. OK, so four wigs. <b>But I'll never tell.</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEb03u04NKtjOGo0slra85nBbLLtYgRvC2J25cJGI4cp2A6JVlFdjEQXMKUOemSjx1FsOimBymsECeZ-1RiP4M4TP0asoYH9ZSLrpYkgdOjkQoZVHKCSVdPoUpGTprQIqRNsWdF_2TZYn6C9c-VZzLfPxePHrWtQl-1I82pkXx-n2Wze1M4hBgQ4N/s320/Dianecleaninglady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCEb03u04NKtjOGo0slra85nBbLLtYgRvC2J25cJGI4cp2A6JVlFdjEQXMKUOemSjx1FsOimBymsECeZ-1RiP4M4TP0asoYH9ZSLrpYkgdOjkQoZVHKCSVdPoUpGTprQIqRNsWdF_2TZYn6C9c-VZzLfPxePHrWtQl-1I82pkXx-n2Wze1M4hBgQ4N/s1600/Dianecleaninglady.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">The other day, one of my clients approached my daughter, who
occasionally worked with me, and asked her if she could clean the Green cleaner
off his toilet seat after cleaning it with said Green cleaner.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She said, "Sure, but why?" He said, "Because
I got stuck to it!"<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I couldn't stop laughing because I wanted so badly to say,
"No, it is not the Green Cleaner. It's that you sit too long, sir!<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">You have stacks of magazines, crossword puzzles, and pens,
heck it looks like an office next to the toilet. My Grandpa used to say,
"Either sit there and think or sit there and stink." Sorry, but he
was an old Farmer, and when I was just old enough to read, I saw that written
(a tad differently) on the outhouse wall.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">There was an old Sears Catalog in Pa's outhouse for the
purpose of wiping. I crumpled the pages and rubbed them together to soften them
for obvious reasons. I was six years old!! If you have never wiped with a piece
of paper, you have missed out on a piece of life. But then, I have never used a
leaf, and I don't figure I have missed out on a darn thing.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">OK, so back to what I have seen. Sweat so thick on walking
machines it is yellow; no, I won't clean that up! I have seen closets I
wouldn't let the cleaning lady see. Now I know why my friends always cleaned up
before the cleaning lady came. I love seeing a beautiful black flat stove top
someone used like they were cooking over a campfire. And I am supposed to figure
out how to get a quarter of an inch of black crust off it<b>. But I'll never
tell</b>. How about teenager's rooms where you can't see the floor for the
clothes and glasses of water and bowls and trash and SPIDERS? One of my clients
tells me I forgot to dust off the top of the furnace regulator. Yet the inside
of the closet looks like a trash bin. <b>But I'll never tell</b>. Once, I even
got fired for cleaning the cat's water fountain, which was unfit for carp...
You have to laugh at that one.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Then there are those people who have been blessed
financially but don't take care of what they were blessed with...I am speaking
of the tangible items their money buys them. I am in awe of the number of shoes
people have, the organic foods, the pottery and artwork, the remodeling, the
closets bigger than my bedroom, the seven bathrooms, and so on, <b>but I'll
never tell.</b> I don't mind, I get to people watch, which is one of my
favorite pass times, and I get paid for it. I keep in mind that I nurture a
home, which is my job. Whatever they do with it beyond that, I can only watch
for the humor of it all.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The above Photo is not of me! Don't you wish, and so do I!
And note that this bottom picture was a bad day after the toilet went over and
down the steps! Cute socks, huh?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_A8o8QnUSaAbJMVAiyCkQUiYb466f2BHOa3a1BWBPrF6BKSeheOtF9wzMFIDdQ0pOKEqdZXxylVZb6gJmXrkoR1Pl8htaLEWM24-dMf_9NOSHSP-sm2PQ3WHMdgzRrgZDc9_LFWj5M30UmnC0wKd6vMiMkLEOm0DWbk1Ut5cExxFeZarqFJj0HQqk/s320/DianeMom_after_the_toilet_went_over!__02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="185" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_A8o8QnUSaAbJMVAiyCkQUiYb466f2BHOa3a1BWBPrF6BKSeheOtF9wzMFIDdQ0pOKEqdZXxylVZb6gJmXrkoR1Pl8htaLEWM24-dMf_9NOSHSP-sm2PQ3WHMdgzRrgZDc9_LFWj5M30UmnC0wKd6vMiMkLEOm0DWbk1Ut5cExxFeZarqFJj0HQqk/s1600/DianeMom_after_the_toilet_went_over!__02.jpg" width="185" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-74504457928631661802023-03-21T15:24:00.002-05:002023-03-21T15:24:36.314-05:00Cardboard Coffins, Amarillo. Coming out soon on Amazon. by Julianna Rowe<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0jgK7HfxX5McyvVU4szpJyc7tdoVi9_nhdM83oKyA2qLETAFnORHCKV76w_pUqHlIbPqiIbjAKAKRkjUC1UNecXxQF6cSPR7bzgmb1zJbt54y9cIxOCAoQKtqHev9YPmNQppaPn3yIXRDlG3EASX_D5Tu3nYcXSK6NVpLn5AvOYWmp8essEmpDR9/s1077/Screenshot_20230125_144522_Messenger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="735" data-original-width="1077" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM0jgK7HfxX5McyvVU4szpJyc7tdoVi9_nhdM83oKyA2qLETAFnORHCKV76w_pUqHlIbPqiIbjAKAKRkjUC1UNecXxQF6cSPR7bzgmb1zJbt54y9cIxOCAoQKtqHev9YPmNQppaPn3yIXRDlG3EASX_D5Tu3nYcXSK6NVpLn5AvOYWmp8essEmpDR9/w640-h436/Screenshot_20230125_144522_Messenger.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-78395329322394044402023-03-17T17:48:00.001-05:002023-03-17T17:48:12.806-05:00Boobs That Speak! by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane Ogden<p> Boobs That Speak............... by Julianna Rowe, aka Diane
Ogden</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Okay, so don't you think the boobs on this page are speaking?
They are Madonna-type boobs. And Oh-eM-
Gee, look at those girdles. God said to
gird up your loins, and some designers totally misunderstood. Not sure what the good book says about
boobs... oh yeah.. in Solomon:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle. Your neck is like an ivory tower. Your eyes
are the pools of Heshbon by the gate of Bath Rabbim. Your nose is like the
tower of Lebanon, looking toward Damascus. Your head crowns you like Mount Carmel. Your
hair is like a royal tapestry; its tresses hold the king captive. How beautiful and pleasing you are, O love,
with your delights! Your stature is like
the palm, and your breasts are like fruit clusters. I said, "I will climb the palm tree and
take hold of its fruit." So may your breasts be like the clusters of the
vine. The fragrance of your breath is like apples.<o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavo9glqWwT06G8drf1qU41NwgHSy5VfbMBoxppgqFyJbsiK9JMSOsXiIiFyYKN_efK-lKdf1WrRhi7MC2po9Y1npuk8JNOQIvyX4qcq6M0suGsSJ1HYhwHKM4PiHn-5QbeihMahSgrjc2QcNlbBQg97sRoykAdO2wsz1XqzErLzaesYSWcb3KFQml/s640/antiquegirdle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="250" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavo9glqWwT06G8drf1qU41NwgHSy5VfbMBoxppgqFyJbsiK9JMSOsXiIiFyYKN_efK-lKdf1WrRhi7MC2po9Y1npuk8JNOQIvyX4qcq6M0suGsSJ1HYhwHKM4PiHn-5QbeihMahSgrjc2QcNlbBQg97sRoykAdO2wsz1XqzErLzaesYSWcb3KFQml/w156-h400/antiquegirdle.jpg" width="156" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">Well, let me say
those breasts inside that armor do not appear like fawns, or twins of a
gazelle, or clusters of the vine. You
think? I wore a bra similar to that in high
school, and I wore a girdle, but it had separate leg openings. In fact, I wore
it to Prom, where it was not removed sometime after midnight like most other
girls' girdles were. Or am I lying? I can’t imagine getting that thing off anyway
in the back seat of a 57 Chevy. If I remember correctly, it looks or feels
like putting your trying to put your hand into a single-finger cot. Or like trying to put your car in the
dryer...for lack of a better "splainatory." You could get one leg in
and then forget about getting the other one in.
It had to be two at a time, and then pull up with all your might. I know that is what caused my back issues.
LOL. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> And check out the
price. $7.50. Nothing costs $7.50 anymore. I can't buy a pair
of socks for that price. Or a dozen organic
eggs. Or a bar of good chocolate. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Whoever came up with such nonsense for us women. Who? Who said it was okay to truss women like a
workhorse? A good bra (brassier) is one
thing, but bullet shooters an altogether a different deal. I am surprised Christian Grey didn't use
these girdles and brasseries on Anastasia Steele in 50 Shades of Grey. That is how I view them. Like painful equipment before sex. Yup......just like Prom for millions of girls
back in the '50s. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> I was searching for
some photos from the 40's (I wasn't born then). Yes, you were. Okay, so it was
the LATE 40s, and I ran across these two pictures I knew I would have to save
for a blog post. And here it is. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> At least the latest
in girdles are not painful. They are
called SPANX... hum, back to the 50
Shades of Grey again! I seem to have
hit on something. Yes, I read the book and
watched the movie. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyleEeEqzSmuxU7jR28KRX132JmpbKlL1Mj_KnChFL6UWkCJOns8BVP4TBNk4Mex4Rihxzew3x4Z3cGgSTZoSCRM667Kl8mgXisJWKW-w7ZlXAzuSmfdjMMydQ3fnmkvluKRG3v6T3SnP8QQ7E-Uuf1INPXKuPxdUwvM81Xwwz089gcpPuZGD2t9rd/s640/antiquegirdle2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="238" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyleEeEqzSmuxU7jR28KRX132JmpbKlL1Mj_KnChFL6UWkCJOns8BVP4TBNk4Mex4Rihxzew3x4Z3cGgSTZoSCRM667Kl8mgXisJWKW-w7ZlXAzuSmfdjMMydQ3fnmkvluKRG3v6T3SnP8QQ7E-Uuf1INPXKuPxdUwvM81Xwwz089gcpPuZGD2t9rd/w149-h400/antiquegirdle2.jpg" width="149" /></a></div><br />Notice the caption under the photo below: <b><i>"YOURS FOR A GLORIFIED LIFETIME.”</i> </b> L O L
And then under that line, it says:
<i><b>With LIFE'S magic fit, all the way.</b></i> I am laughing silly at how they put these
words together. Keywords are just like on the internet now in 2023! MAGIC, ALL THE WAY (back in the 50's, when a
person heard "all the way," it meant sex. Hey, did you guys "go all the
way?" It meant intercourse. No, that is the truth. Cross my heart. Funny me, that's the name of a brassier. Wait, it's Cross Your Heart—more keywords
tuned for more significant sales. How about one called, Cross Your Fawns? I better not be making funnies about the
Bible. Erase Erase<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Until next time, be safe, be happy, and get rich so you can
buy Spanx. They don't hurt. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Later's<o:p></o:p></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3190914046415580017.post-86652364630049223822023-03-15T07:34:00.002-05:002023-03-15T07:34:50.797-05:00The Hitchhiker By Julianna Rowe<p> Coming Soon: </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HNG96UYDGAEM0s9aZKXcE6vA1Dn7VJt8O2P-OXZyz4zPnV1QSuEOCaXlotT0Igy1Ef8jSqcsEG-IrR4G1nln0AjgnyfLrrItr3T58-i6ysP3G3o6U0jtKjq8qq5X9EtQeN0V-yjtb5dvO04XzCXmBVZCw6FM6tlqI-hJ46TmjvxnUgzl8WDGlneP/s3750/The%20Hitchhiker%20BOOK%20COVER%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="3750" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1HNG96UYDGAEM0s9aZKXcE6vA1Dn7VJt8O2P-OXZyz4zPnV1QSuEOCaXlotT0Igy1Ef8jSqcsEG-IrR4G1nln0AjgnyfLrrItr3T58-i6ysP3G3o6U0jtKjq8qq5X9EtQeN0V-yjtb5dvO04XzCXmBVZCw6FM6tlqI-hJ46TmjvxnUgzl8WDGlneP/w640-h460/The%20Hitchhiker%20BOOK%20COVER%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Julianna Rowehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16555289943899585382noreply@blogger.com0