By the Garden Gate

By the Garden Gate by Preston "Bud" Morris
Ronda and Mark

Reya, from After the Gold Puppy, was on a walk down Nostalgia Avenue a week or so ago. She invited us to post old photos of our own journey down that street. The blast of emotion that hit me upon opening the first of my many, many boxes of photos (no, they are not organized as I would like) smacked my gluteus maximus down hard into the seat of The Way Back Machine. It spun me into the past like a Whirling Dervish. For the next few posts I'll display photos and memories of my origins.

My father was a photographer. Out of the earliest files in my brain, flew images of him and his camera. Inseparable. The cameras changed over the years but he always seemed to stay the same. Calm. Quiet. Tall. Dark. Creative. Strong. Consistent. Reliable. A teacher. Yep, great qualities for a dad. Any dad. My dad.

In addition to his private photography business, he worked as a photo finisher in the days before 1-hour photo kiosks and digital photography. Sometimes he would take my brother and I to work with him. We always were excited and thought he was giving us a special day. But, in retrospect, my mom probably had to do something and he got stuck with us. Early in the morning, we would go to the retail store where he worked and pick up bags of film people had dropped off. Then we went around to other businesses around town that had film drop-offs. He always took us inside with him and proudly introduced us as he picked up unprocessed film and deposited the previous days finished photos.

With a box full of canvas, zippered bags and us in tow, he would take us to a little hamburger stand for lunch. Then we headed several miles out of town to the lab where he would develop all of those pictures. As we watched, he would open those zippered bags, dump out the little, metal, cylindrical tins with rubber caps holding spools of film. Into the dark room, with its special light that wouldn't ruin the film, we would go. He would open the tins, look at the negatives that looked like they were from a Reverse Bizarro World where light is dark and dark is light, and begin his magic alchemy.

I don't really remember what he did with the negatives, but some how he embedded the images from the negative film onto paper. Then with his magic trays of clear potion, he moved the pieces of paper from tray to tray with tongs. In the last tray, the paper started changing from plain white to, at first, faint, ghostly underwater images to, at last, exact replicas of living people and solid matter. Taking the photos out of the solution, he hung them by clips, on a long wire stretched across the room, to dry. The chemical smell of photo developer still makes me happy and is forever linked with my father.

Unbeknownst to us, he, apparently, had been submitting pictures to different contests and magazines over the years. While he was alive, the only affirmation of his work came from his family and local clients. He died in 1977 of a massive coronary. About 20 plus years after his death, my mother received a royalty check from the American Greeting Card Company for $125 for the top photo. It is called By the Garden Gate and is of me and my brother, Mark, at my Aunt Dot's house in Stockton, California.

We tried to find out what they were going to use his picture for, but never received a reply to our query. But, within a year after the check was received, all those mugs, cards and items featuring a little girl and a little boy, dressed in cute clothes, started appearing for sale. We'll never know for sure but, we think it was dad's photograph they used for their promotion.

I got a visit from dad on All Hallows. It was a very soft and gentle meeting. He just sat on the edge of my bed and looked at me for a while. Then he held out his hand and my mother joined him. They haven't been together for over 30 years. No words were spoken but, I could feel their love, strong and truer than ever. Just because people are gone doesn't mean they're not with us. Immortality is often far different than we think.

Preston "Bud" Morris, high school graduation picture, age 18

Yppah Neewollah!

Me and my brother, Mark, approximately 1958 or 1959

This coming Saturday is Halloween. Hallows, Hallowmas, Samhain or All Hallows Eve is the final jewel in the crown of the year. At this time, the power of the year is represented by the crone. Wise and strong, she is symbolic of honoring the aging process and individual work. With the death of the year, comes rebirth and renewal at Yule. This is a wonderful time to affirm what you want in your life for the coming year.

Vail, Colorado

The veils between worlds is thinnest on this night. The air is alive with the possibility of connecting with people, loved ones and pets that have passed on to the afterlife. In ancient texts, it is written that those who have been deceased for at least a year and one day may come back to visit. I always try to communicate with the dead on this night. So far, I don't recollect any visitations. I usually fall asleep and have a vague sense that there is something I should remember. Maybe, just maybe, this time I will retain the memory of who comes to call. I really, really want to know that we connected.

And now a story for the season. My sister's mother-in-law, R, shared this ghost story with me after she read my post, Ghostown.

"By the way, not too long after my sister, "M", passed away, before we moved up here, my daughter "T" had a visit from her one night. "T" told me the next morning that "M" was just standing in the doorway looking at her and smiling. "T" said she was not scared and pretty soon "M" faded away. "T" went back to sleep. I told "T" that her Aunt "M" probably just wanted to say goodbye to her one last time. "M" and "T" always had a close relationship while she was alive. I had a chance to say goodbye to "M" while she was at UCLA Medical Hospital but "T" wasn't with me."

Thanks for sharing this story with me, R. How about any one else? Have you, or someone you know, had an experience that falls outside the range of "normal"?

Vail, Colorado

Archangel Michael Swords of Light

While in Vail, Colorado, we did lots of energy and healing work. In some of the work, we used Archangel Michael Swords of Light. The swords are composed of selenite. It is also called satin spar. Many people know it more commonly as alabaster. They are custom made. A picture of Archangel Michael along with a statement from him, affirming the importance of spiritual work, channeled through Edward Cayce, is embedded within the handle of each wand. They also contain mementos and energy from three different gurus. The swords are alive with vortexes of energy. The vortexes, similar to chakras, emanate energy and colorful light. They are Divine instruments for healers and beings wishing to work with Light for their own benefit.

Selenite is composed of calcium sulfate. Its crystal structure is tabular and it has striations running lengthwise. Originally, selenite crystals formed in clay beds or near hot springs. The selenite, of which these custom wands are created, comes from South Africa.

The swords quickly activate and open the third-eye, crown, and 8th through 14th chakras. The intensity of the energy, as it runs through the selenite, is stronger than almost any other crystal for working with the upper chakras. It can balance and automatically adjust the speed and rotation of the chakras. It is one of the keys to unlocking the etheric chakras and can clear blockages in the energy field. It is ideal for healers because it is perfect for energetic clearing and purification. The Swords of Light can direct high frequency energy into the body to promote physical, emotional and spiritual healing. It is said that when selenite opens the third eye, or inner eye, the spiritual world enters. When other stones and crystals are place on the wand, their strength is greatly magnified.

Having a healing session with one of these instruments is totally mind blowing. I held it over my heart center with both hands wrapped around the hilt. Four other healers stood around me as I lay on a massage table and directed the Creator's source energy through the sword and into my physical and energetic bodies. What I felt is hard to describe. Buzzing. Tingling. Travel back into the time of primordial creation. Timelessness. Peace. Swimming in the Milky Way and beyond. Buzz Lightyear's got nothin' on me. Neither does Major Tom. Back in the day, you would think I was smokin' wacky tabaccy or drinkin' Electric Kool-Aid. But, now days, just give me some selenite, crystals and a couple of powerful energy workers and I'm off. And...I really didn't want to come back. Truly, Planet Earth is a great place to explore but I'm finding there are many, many other places that are also fun to visit.

I don't own one of these fine tools, yet, as they start around $300 and go way up from there. Many of the healers that attended the conference bought them while there. Many others brought their swords with them for the express purpose of doing this work. There were Archangel Michael Swords of Light Healing Sessions going on all over the place for days. In fact, I was surprised that they are so easy to get through airport security. But they are sold with cardboard containers that have capped ends, similar to what you would carry a fishing pole in, except they are shorter. Still...I can only imagine what the airline workers think when the send them through the x-ray machines.

"Be still, my children! Bow thine heads, that the Lord of the Way make
known unto you that have been chosen for service in this period when there is
the need of that spirit being made manifest in the Earth, that the way may be
known to those that seek the Light! For the glory of the Father will be made
manifest through you that are faithful unto the calling where-in thou hast
been called. Ye that have named the name make known in thy daily walks
of life, in the little acts of the lessons that have been building in thine own
experience, through those associations of self in meditation and prayer, that
this way may be known among men: for He calls all--whosoever will may
come--and He stands at the door of thine own conscience, that ye may be
aware the scepter has not departed from Israel, nor have His ways been
in vain: for today, ye will harken, the way is open--I, Michael, call on
thee!"

Archangel Michael's statement channeled through Edgar Cayce on
September 4, 1932

Vail, Colorado: Portal to the Fifth Dimension

We traveled to Vail, Colorado. The purpose? To spend a week tasting the living of life in the Fifth Dimension. Nearly 500 beings strong, we tugged off the veil of forgetfulness and wove ourselves into the warp and the woof of an energy grid several Masters spent nearly 30 years making.

The Fifth Dimension, like love, is a state of being. Once you try to describe it, you are lost in your mental body, your mind, and not your heart. The heart center, like Vail for that week, is also a portal to the Fifth Dimension. It is not a place you can get to with your physical body. You can travel in your Mercaba, a vehicle of light, if you have one. Or, you can simply slow your thoughts, open your heart, slip into its center and you are there.

Enter the Zero Point--the point of nothingness. In the Fifth Dimension, there is very little need for verbal communication--communication is telepathic. There is no complaining or yearning. There is a lightness of being...an ease that makes our Third Dimensional existence feel heavy and cumbersome, like living life in a clumsy space suit. A realm of all things and no things. Everything and nothing. All potentiality and no potentiality. Pure space. Shiva.

As a massage therapist, I spend most of my work day in a very relaxed, altered state. But, boy howdy, spending a week in such grace is splendidly blissful. The trick is to make it last. To not let the heaviness of this dimension weigh us down. We are truly multi-dimensional beings. There are so many dimensions beyond the Fifth to visit that the very thought makes my eyes bug and my neurons short circuit.

Well, enough blithering for one day. Time to enter my elevator and hit the "UP" button. Who knows what dimension I'll visit next?

Wonderland Wit

This is my last post before I fly to Vail, Colorado on Saturday morning. I may try a little mobile blogging to see if I can figure it out. I still can not make comments on my blog, and a few others, from my mobile device. If anyone knows why, please let me know. I hope I will be able to post because it is beautiful in Vail.

Anyway, before I go, I'll give you peek at life in The Wonderland.

After sliding down the Rabbit Hole into the inner sanctum of Wonderland, I remark to the Wonder Husband, "Gosh, there's a little nip in the air tonight."

Wonder Husband: Why? Did you take your top off?

I wonder how funny Wonder Husband will look with his dinner rolling off his head?

I'm thinkin' VEWY, VEWY FUNNY!

A Bottle of Red and a Bottle of White

A Bottle of Red and a Bottle of White is an original song that was written and performed by The Receivers on Saturday night. To dispel the doom of Dreary, Dreary First of Oct, the band put on a party. It was a Not So Dreary Third of Oct as there was plenty of outdoor rock.

Youngsters, oldsters, and animals, raising a defiant finger (or paw) to the intruding stormy weather, partied together in the style which is our custom.



That little bit of rain did nothing to squelch the good times and spirits.

In the Wonderland, just as our elders raised us to rock, so we have raised our young. They, in turn, pass on the tradition to their babies. Families that party together, grow hearty together.

For those about to ROCK, we salute you!

Dreary, Dreary First of Oct

In all life, there is balance...duality. Day and night. Love and hate. Sweet and sour. Happiness and sadness. And, as it is in life, so it is in the Wonderland. If you remember "Happy, Happy First of May Outdoor F***ing Starts Today," have you considered that all things must come to an end?

Today is that sad, end of times. "Dreary, Dreary first of Oct...now there's no more outdoor c*ck."

Although...we are going to a First of Oct party this weekend. And if the weather warms up a bit, maybe...just maybe, we can extend the season another few days. Oh, don't worry. It wouldn't be a group thing. We, in the Wonderland, are a little too modest (and saggy) for such shenanigans.