Brownstonelit's Blog

9/20/2014

I do apologize for having not written before this, but academics come first this time of year, then then book…then the blog.

But just so that you know that things are still moving forward, I am very much into the book…Chapter Twenty-Seven to be exact. Can I share with you? Hmmmm…somethings right now must be saved for authorities.

But I can tell you this… while silence is golden, sometimes speaking out will let someone  know just how far you have come. So to the Stocking Strangler and his friend the Zodiac, let just say the the seventh victims have much to say.

She talks about your eyebrows. Why? Because she was focused on the spot in between them as you violated her. She talks about how your glasses kept sliding down your nose as you dry humped your way into history. She had a great deal else to say…about your clothes, the dimple in the middle of your chin- what you shoved in her mouth to keep her quiet. Things only you and she would know. Or maybe just you , her and… the detective still working the file.

Want to know more?

Let’s talk about December of 1962, shall we? Now what does this have  to do with Columbus in 1977?

Survey says…

_a_ _ _c _ _ _ n _!

You fill in the blanks- you always liked that sort of thing anyways.

But, before we give the store away, let’s talk about what happened shortly after Sophie Clark was murdered. Let’s talk about a trip to a rainy area in February of 1963. Do you remember that? You went out there to lay low for a while- to meet up with a man named Rick. A good friend no doubt.

Do you remember the secret handshake?

He took you in, showed you the ropes. You stayed with him until a few months later when you returned to ____________ . (I can fill that in…can you?)

Let’s talk  about your return to the South.

Let’s talk about your friend- your mentor… about the pool that used to be there, that is not now. Let’s talk about what lies beneath? Or rather… who?

Let’s talk about the necklace… the one your mother gave you?

You see…I have been busy!

So much more to come.

Lets talks about the “triad.”

Take a pencil…draw a pyramid. Name the top  point Boston. Name the bottom  left corner, California and the bottom right one Georgia.

So many clues, so little time!

9/9/2014

Today’s numerology is significant and on the heels of last night’s full moon…we must set our sights higher and be open to what the universe has in store for us…but first? An apology.

I know that it has been a number of days since prior postings and I want you to know that my absence has , while noted by many of my following–not meant to be insult, but due to overwhelming schedules–regrets. It is difficult in this slowly molting season to fill all roles as wife, mother, employee, student, author, investigator and spiritual adventurist, as the hours in my day are so limited. To add insult to injury, the universe after it asked me to endure constant construction and rehabilitative costs for said, asked that I prepare my house for a Realtor’s showing this last weekend, in which there was already no down time from obligations to be had. I did so, along with my husband, because the star s had foretold of a late summer sale and the relocation to the place of our dreams- a true find and a home that would keep me close to the action, segue to career advancements and new adventures. Armed with mops and momentum, I sallied forth and did everything that was needed and then more that I felt might be appreciated. We loaded all the dogs on the boat and took a cruise…a short one. So my question is simply… why?

Astrology has been forecasting a sale and a move for Taurus since March… all signs pointed to its necessity and its imminence and yet, here we are on the cusp of the end of my contract, the start of the  holiday season and while my current abode has undergone a number of radical changes- mostly thrust upon us through wear and tear, we are no closer to obtaining a contract, nor a new address that brings all those promise to fruition. At least, not for me.

The other Taurus in the family seems to be getting all my readings and has been played quite directly by every influence of the Tarot and the stars.

I am perplexed… and feel much like the character Ray Consella, in the movie, “Field of Dreams.”

The spirits are playing baseball in my cornfield and while I am trying not to scream at the top of my lungs, “What’s in it for me?” I am screaming…”What’s in it for me?”

How is it possible that so much work has warranted so little response? Where is my trip out into the cornfield? Why do the stars wish be to be only conduit and not destination?

Being a Taurus I am mostly averse to change and yet I have been chomping at the bit for real and substantial change for years. Odd, isn’t it? Having been through the gates of Hell and back, as though of you who have read my last book will note…I am still eager for further movement. Not necessarily in my structure, but most definitely in my career and these cases. Having climbed Jacob’s pillar, so to speak, I am anxious for that pivotal stepping stone for major breakthroughs. With both eager momentum and anxietal hesitation…I walk the fence and beg for governed movement, but where are the stars when I need them? Why do they speak for others and not for me?

“Patience,” I hear. “Have faith,” I hear and yet all I feel like are the buzzards who sit in the trees above me and chuckle, “Patience my ass…let’s go kill something!”

In other words, I grow weary of reading the stars for everybody else, without sense of their guidance being for me. But you ask- isn’t what you have already the best there is? Can you possibly belittle the miracle that is already yours? Guidance by the angels?

No…I cherish that, but some days they ask so much of my faith and like a petulant child I say, ‘stop toying with me!’ If you say this or that will happen, then by God let’s be on about it! And within that same breath, I know that timing is everything and that any delay or departure in its arrival, is meant for my own and the greater good. So how does one parse this kind of impatience with faith?

If you have faith and nothing happens, do you then blame yourself because if you had only had MORE faith…it would have happened? Or do we only delude ourselves with faith…marking time as it were, providing ourselves and the universe with every possible reason and rationalization why things haven’t happened until it happens? And what if it doesn’t? is there a sense of being unworthy?

The real question is- have I been clear in what I want? Maybe that is the real catch? Even in real estate matters?

Do I love my little cottage by the sea, so to speak? Yes. It is smaller than I am accustomed to, but in its simplicity it provides me with comfort and proximity to the certain treasures in my life. Is the view not one of eternal awe and inspiration? Yes… So why do I lust for things like bookshelves and quiet nooks for furniture I seldom use? What does the monster of more sometimes grip my sensibilities and tell me I need rooms for children who no longer live among me…or for panoramic picture windows that look upon more bucolic settings than the one I left behind years ago?  What is this madness that covets the scenery of my hour drive while it begs for driveways that bring my job closer and my time in travel shorter?

Can one grow weary of paradise? Or is it that by introducing the mere thought of change, the cosmos has altered my perception of paradise and now convinced I have somehow neglected a higher calling… hyperventilated my intellectual equilibrium into thinking it cannot survive now without it? This change- this need to be in constant motion?

Is it because I am eager to serve and think that because the universe suggested change, I must  therefore adhere?!

As odd a departure as this must seem to you, it takes up the many tiny corners of my mind late at night when I cannot sleep for placing furniture in homes I will never come to own, for writing words in speeches I will never get to give and receptions I know I am meant to attend and yet see no invitation has yet arrived. I so thought by now that Charley’s case would be splashed across other venues- his killers caught or at least cornered! The book, in grander setting than simply the monitor on my computer screen would be heralded as the precursor to another and another and…The book was for Charley- the therapy of it all for me and yet I have I learned nothing?

I read the stars, count the numbers, watch the cards and hollow out my ego to the best of my ability to serve those less fortunate and still what I receive is a bargain for more faith. But when does that run out? When does the world bleed back into the behavior and the spirit fail to make the last ferry to resolution? 9/9…where does all this go, if it goes nowhere?

Hundreds of pages into the new book I catch myself and ask- how many years of my life will this take from me? The book is entitled, “THE HARVEST” and so I understand, that it–like I, today lie emotionally fallow in some distant field awaiting our equal fates. Do not misunderstand; it is not about the changing of a house or the changing of a status- it is about the recognition of intent…not mine- but of the universe’s. I feel as though my angel song must be playing across the skies…”WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” I am not so much lost as simply misdirected this a day, but worry that faith cannot continually spend its energies divining everybody else’s directives and yet not be able to see to the end of my own.

So I ask a favor…nay, beg a boon of the cosmos and ask that the angels, on this most solemn numerical combination of 9/9,  that screams…”Get to work, Lightworker!’ Either cut the cords of overt expectation from my being to all out there that will never be… or bind me quick to what needs be done so that we both can be on about the greater good and business of my divine path!