Spirit Message of the Day – Time for Rest and Relaxation

“Everything has its season. Now is the time to put activity on hold while you rest.”

“The cold winter beckons you to slow down and put a ‘freeze’ on things that are not yet ready to bloom. It’s time for regeneration and hibernation. Forgo ambitious activity. A pregnant pause allows ideas to gestate; projects to shift and change; and relationships to go through a dreamy state of being, not going anywhere – not needing to.”

“This is also a time to put all your arguments on ice. Nothing beneficial will come from any of them. Self-care is the most important activity now…so reflect, read a good book, or get a massage. Rest and dream.”

“Nothing you can do right now will amount to anything substantial no matter how much you try, push, manipulate, or cajole. Life wants you to take a break. You need to do this now, lest you become exhausted and be forced to rest. What you need will be there for you when you emerge in the springtime. For now, winter has its own ideas for you. Wait for signs of spring.”

Today’s guidance is from The Enchanted Map Oracle Cards by Colette Baron-Reid.

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Spirit Message of the Day – Happy Heart Day 2012

Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson. 1809–1892

Summer Night

NOW sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:

The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.
Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,

And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.
Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,

And all thy heart lies open unto me.
Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. 

Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake:

So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.


Alfred Lord Tennyson
Lost Love
(From “In Memoriam”)

I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods; 

I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter’d by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes; 

Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest. 

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
 I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘T is better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.


The Dream
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.

Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere
There was a shutter loose- it screeched!

Swung in the wind- and no wind blowing-
I was afraid and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort-
And you were gone!  Cold as the dew,

Under my hand the moonlight lay!
Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter-
Ah, it is good to feel you there.


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Published in: on February 11, 2012 at 10:02  Comments (4)