Not a mopping being…
… just a mopping experience
since this July,
with no end in sight,
for no reward but the
of our community debt
that had been growing
be asked to start
blessing through me
–me seemingly just toiling
outside closed apartment doors–
people who had been feeling higher
on the crumbling social ladder
by judging others
all these blessed
having human experiences
in a state of constant prayer.
Three years online today
Glowing with gratitude for
all our heavenly and earthly friends
💜 💜 💜
💜 💜 💜
Saint Francis of Assisi Taming the Wolf, by Steve Simon.
About this wonderful true story and this artist’s depiction of it, enjoy the video after the following Franciscan benediction, beloveds.
The most important step in regaining these skills of ours is believing in their naturalness and in the always available higher assistance for our remembrance, so that we trustingly ask our angels to help us navigate through the times ahead as one divinely responsible human family.
Gratitude for your own prayers,
Love and Courage always
through Leon and Plutonia
A Franciscan Benediction
May God bless us with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that we may live from deep within our hearts.
May God bless us with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of God’s creations
So that we may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless us with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger, and war,
So that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and
To turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless us with just enough foolishness
To believe that we can make a difference in the world,
So that we can do what others claim cannot be done:
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and all our neighbors who are poor.
L = Leon
M = Michael; a 70-year-old fruit vendor in our weekly market, whom I had not seen before and have not seen again since about two months ago, when our below-described encounter took place, in an initially inside-and-out cold morning.
M: (still talking to his previous male customer, to whom I believe he has just given away some fruit) “… Only your love; I want nothing else. And never mind them in high places; they cannot undo what we are.”
L: “Good morning.”
M: “Good morning.”
L: “60 cents per kilo, these oranges?” (He has better-looking ones on his bench, with 1 Euro per kilo)
M: “Yes; but allow me; you’re not buying anything unless you try first…” (in no time he takes a little knife and deftly peels a ripe orange, leaving its base for me to hold it by)
L: “No no, thanks, it’s not necessary…” (*I disagrrrowl*, goes my stomach)
M: “It’s OK, son” (offers it to me, turns to serve another customer, returns as I am swallowing the last mouthful of sweetest fragrant sunlight)
L: “May you always have its sweetness.”
M: “You too. Here (handing me a plastic bag); choose what you like.”
After a while I give him back a half-full bag to weigh, and as I am handing him a couple of coins and am about to thank him and leave, I feel him serenely staring at me…
M: “What is your name?”
L: (hesitating for a breath, a little overwhelmed by the somehow otherwordly, ageless radiance coming through this elderly man’s quietly kind demeanour) “Λέων.”
Μ: “Come here, Λέων (actually he comes round to me, to the customers’ side of the bench). Open your bag. These are from me. They are fine inside, it’s only their skin, see? Squeeze some nice juice out of them.”
L: “Thank you so much… If you knew how we are struggling…” (I cannot keep these words from flowing out of my heart; I feel like I am talking to an all-understanding, most compassionate angel in human form)
M: … (keeps on silently filling my bag, knows I am not whining or expecting any response, feels my gratitude and I… as we stand side by side… I feel his blessings enfold me like a warm blanket!)
L: “And your name?”
L: … (Michael? My guardian Archangel? Thank you Heaven for always hearing!) “Thank you so much Μιχάλη.”
M: “Be well, son.”
save all from
hunger and need
she wipes floors
fights on her own
Cooks meals for a
I had wealth
I’d help more souls”
These are the Ones
who have least
Our neighbour Eve
on Yule’s eve
Just some cookies
and a tealight
talked with her
first time in years
“My friend’s dying
Far from the Sun
so much Light
We Are Light
We Are the Sun
save all from
hunger and need
Leon From Hades to Light, January 2016
believe they own, control us.
Forgive them. Fear not. Our Light heals.
Love breaks all chains; works For us.
=-=-= / < 3 / =-=-=
Leon of SolitaryThinkers,
[Sleepstream] are a deeply atmospheric post-rock band from my hometown. The bassist who opens the following video, is also a mechanical engineer. With his gifted hands and creative mind, he repaired our old refrigerator in 2012 and it’s still going strong, thankfully; we couldn’t afford a new one. Bless you John; I looked familiar to you because we grew up by the same waterfront listening to the same music. We’d be brothers and bandmates, had my external life not always been [so unlivable]. We still dream up together a freer, more humane world.
Pre-flight / The Sail of Mary Celeste / They Flew in the Censored Skies / Cirrus Formed Antennae / The Nacre Top of The Sky / Chemtrail Borders I / Chemtrail Borders II / Lucy’s Dream’s An Overdose / Cycle 24. These are the nine superb tracks of Sleepstream’s sophomore album (please buy [here]) entitled They Flew in Censored Skies. A majestically melancholic work from these transcendental activists who through their lyrically powerful music express the ongoing heavy suffering of Greece and not only; we all fly in censored skies.
* * *
* * * *
An amazing financial miracle took place yesterday for a precious friend, a struggling and highly deserving soul sibling we have been enfolding in full-hearted prayers for their agonizing condition to change, the two of us as part of a group of synchronizing lightworking souls.
This friend won their court case unexpectedly even for their attorney, and although it will take some time for their payments to begin, they feel like reborn and now they enfold us themselves in unspeakable love and happiness!
They sent us a multiple-recipients message where they say to us all:
“I believe our creator knew that I needed to have a definite answer today in order to continue surviving my current living situation until the official word comes down. Thank you all for the loving support, the prayers, and the positive vibes. We can work miracles together and today is proof of our combined strength.”
Dear One, it is not wise for even your blogging identity to be revealed here. Do trust your Scorpionic Brother and Plutonic Sister who feel that you must be kept protected, your enthusiasm hidden, your soul strong to endure what you must until the beginning of this winter. We have no doubt that each member of this soul group agrees with this need for a quiet celebration and understands that this is partly why comments are closed for this post.
And partly because we are now kindly asking all of you to focus all your energies on drastically changing our own circumstances. It is time.
Our situation here is getting more precarious every day. We urgently need to pay off all our accumulated-and-still-accumulating-by-the-global-misanthropic-system debts (money is not their food, our souls are, so we are not feeding them at all), to make sure that our bedridden mother(-in-law) is taken good care of in a decent nursing home, to remove ourselves from the lives of those totally destructive relatives after paying them for services they have provided for their own blackmailing purposes, and to leave this falling-apart, hellward driven country as soon as possible, passing on its undying-inside-us sacredness from elsewhere.
All of this depends on money.
And the tragic truth is: there is no money for us to expect in any protestant-ethic-compliant way. No way we can find a job here. No allowance we are entitled to. No sort of pension we will ever have the right to for the monetarily insignificant wealth we have been producing as intellectual workers. No family inheritance other than debts. Not even any charity for us, once the little money we have runs out.
The time is ripe for our own back pay, as we have been humbly awakened to the necessary levels of wisdom to make a new beginning. What has been seeming as a colossal injustice or at the least a bookkeeping error on the Universe’s part, has served its purpose well by promoting our humility and our dedication to serving and uplifting our fellow travellers through this life, a soul purpose we cannot fulfill unless we survive physically. What we need is what we know can well come, but we cannot attract it on our own because of the disproportionate hostility directed against us and all the dark agendas that block our energies. What we need is a large sum of money through a lottery win. Our middle-aged lives are so neglected that require serious physical and mental recovery from the stresses of our long suffering, but we don’t have the temporal luxury of investing in our health. Even with a generous back pay, we will still be faced with dizzying amounts of heavy-responsibility karmic-clean-up work on many levels, but we will at least finally be able to start having some perspective of moving on, slowly recuperating, developing our skills and applying our experience constructively. We trust that the Divine will break through all the layers of money-laundering corruption in the only lottery company here, because we need a large sum of money through a lottery win now.
All we lovingly ask you to do, beloved people, is listen to this specially attuned music, get immersed in its beauty (you can close your eyes, as there is nothing but this static image in the following video) and allow this wonderful energy to flow our way for our material deprivation to be removed. Let us make this happen!
Until you hear from us again, please trust that we are safe and strong. Solitude is the homeland of the strong; silence is their prayer, said Ravignan. We keep our sanity by praying for you ourselves, reverently waiting for our spring, when the Sun’s warmth sprouts our seeds. You keep your soil moist now, for mustard seeds of faith are sprinkled over each one of us, and do not ever get fooled by any illusions into forgetting that we are miracles incarnate.
Blessed be your paths always!
Yours in Love and Light,
Leon and Plutonia
“Leon and Plutonia
are about to receive
a large sum of money.”
Here we go:
* * *
* * * *
Beloved David of Vancouver Visions honored me with a nomination for a wonderful challenge I cannot pass on due to our circumstances (on top of everything else, we are targets of the most horrible blackmail by a cousin who has set his sights on taking advantage of us), but David uplifted me so much on Day 2, that he inspired me to create and offer you a threefold sequence of image quotes.
Let your soul listen beyond the words, see beyond the images, ride beyond the waves of this music, and you will feel the following extracts from three different works of the same transcendentalist harmonizing into the One majestic cycle of our divine incarnations and light connections, awakening your higher consciousness, healing you.
Thank you, David, and all Dear Ones with whom I have lost external contact. I cannot even be reading anymore, but I see you in my heart, and our meaningfully struggling life here is a constant prayer for you all.
Showers of blessings
from and through
your grateful Leon
* * * *
* * *
This is a sequel post to my Divinity in each other poem, Dear Ones.
I am showing you below three photographs I took while feeding some homeless little felines, to whom their mom gave birth in our neighborhood in the bitter cold of winter. They are homeless and motherless now. She was squashed by a car. Ugly. This drama on the asphalt, her soul had nothing to do with; beautiful Light.
You are seeing five of a litter of originally nine stray kittens; at least two more must still be alive, but they were not around this time I offered them my love and a little food. Three of them are ill; sneezing and coughing all the time; some have skin problems, too. I pray for their protection, but we can only rarely be feeding them. I am grateful to Plutonia for making me feel ashamed of myself for not honoring a bit the meaning of my real Greek name (“Champion of the Downtrodden):
“Yes, we have a stack of unpaid bills, our apartment’s cold, we are dying. Who freezes more? Won’t they die first? Fetch a bag of those discount croquettes or forget about dinner yourself! You’ll go out and offer them a little meal late at night, when the neighbours don’t see.”
The loveliest twelfth-house Virgo Moon-Plutonian she is. And then, alarmed by us through the aether, started feeding them an older lady who comes with her rattling old car and worn clothes, as well as a couple of blessed kids who give away some of their meager (you can tell) pocket money to offer these cuties a juicy can of cat food. But they’d also need a vet. I hope at least we won’t have to face again the awful situation that took place here a few years ago, when someone poisoned every single stray cat in our area -we have quite a few abandoned-due-to-the-crisis dogs, too, but they obviously didn’t piss off that troubled soul-, as if they were harming anyone; and then we got overrun by nice fat rats munching on car wiring; precious to one another on all levels we are.
Look at them souls of Light, struggling to continue blessing us. They are still too young, even the healthier ones, to be chasing those rodents. Friendly little guys purring in choir, climbing on your jeans, miaowing your heart to pieces that you can’t offer them the home they need and deserve. I am there, too; in their eyes and little hearts.
The video after these paragraphs is essentially complementary to my prequel poem and to the message of this even more Scorpionic post. What you are going to see is intense, but I assure you that it is not brutal at all. Others are: those who perpetrate crimes inside scientific laboratories, those who throw cruelty-extracted findings to our faces in mellow prime-time objectivity, so that we can be mentally drugged. I wouldn’t encourage you to push yourselves, or let anyone push you, into listening to dark music, but you can trust me and watch this one through. It is not upsetting for sensationalism, not disturbing in a gory way, the montage is very careful and respectful, the lyrics deep and thought-provoking. Abattoir, a British word of French origin, means “slaughterhouse”. With Archaic Rhetoric is meant the distorted use of the Greek language by Western science; scientia in Latin means “knowledge”; we know nothing correctly with this science. Through the Greek language we would, but the Greek language is dying because its speakers are, as such or altogether.
Not only all animals, even rocks have souls of divine essence; the big ones in the sky, gods and goddesses they are, showering us with blessings, because we are all fragments of God on our way back home. Notice Leonardo da Vinci’s quote at the end of the video. Try to not consume too much flesh, but by all means listen to your bodies’ needs, respect and love them as sacred vehicles and connect with this sacredness. Pray, in a nutshell; purify and energize your food, silently if you feel you will be judged, by offering thanks for the lives that are given for your own, animal and plant lives alike. Water is also alive, it feels what we feel and its crystals change with our emotions, so hold the glass in your hands and Bless the Water; thank it and make it sparkle with joy before it becomes a grateful part of you. You don’t need any special techniques or to be in tune with any religion. This power is inside us, we exude it, it is our focused heart energy which gives life to whatever we touch, even if we find ourselves in the deepest of dungeons. This is real science, Dear Ones, not poetic moonshine, but these scientific findings are silenced. Prayer does fine tune our bodies, prayer does strengthen our souls. It suffices to place a palm gratefully upon your chest for a moment, before enjoying your sustaining meal or snack. Yes, today we are fed with lab-grown misery instead of happy animal flesh, with genetically modified organisms instead of healing ancient seeds and plants, but prayer always makes a huge difference in purifying and transforming everything, until we can live on sun gazing or spirit alone again.
“Namaste”, exchange the tigress and the baby high priestess in my previous poem post.
“What divinity in each other? We tragically fail to see it!” growls the amazing Angela Gossow. The ex-vocalist of Arch Enemy was born to orthodox Christian parents in Germany, saw them divorce when she was 17, their business go bankrupt, herself become both anorexic and bulimic, so don’t rush to label her as a berserk barbarian if you’ve never listened to this type of vocals before, and yes, from a woman; a feisty daughter of the Goddess she is, and a highly charged Scorpio lady. You will hear only her masterfully trained harshness, not the mezzo-soprano voice with which she interacts with her live audiences. This watery graveness comes from her Scorpio stellium (Sun, Mars, Venus on top of one another) and her Moon-Saturn conjunction in Cancer. She is a vegan, a deeply spiritual atheist, and also an anarchist lady; allow me to offer you my very first post on the true meaning of anarchy: Because We Cannot Stop For Death.
Cruelty really is unbeautifiable, and there is too much of it in this world. There is no feeding the human population without evil rituals covered up as food industry; no beauty industry without animal-testing; no modern medicine without the horrors of WWII concentration-camp experiments; no education without misleading; educere means “lead out” and we are being led out of our true selves here, but I beseech you, my younger friends, to be showing respect to the people who are teaching you something while struggling to preserve their own and Your dignity. I know the agony because I used to teach once, too; loved each one of my students, hated every minute of having to function in these teaching/learning environments I was not destined for, felt like breaking down and weeping in front of those kids and with them for the torture of their minds and hearts, like roaring back with fury at the few ones that blindly hated me as a representative of a soulless system none of us devised or voted for.
But we can Be soul wherever we are. So many of us, whatever our places in this life, have been torturing ourselves in various ways trying to find relief, because we have an unconscious connection to all suffering in the seamless field of energy. We can move to conscious empathy together. “I understand you and I love you”; say this to at least one person in your life, and then to as many as you can. Spread the word beyond words; think this into people: Bless you; Bless you; Bless you. To every passer-by on the street, send a golden ray of heart light; to every little bird on a tree, the same. Don’t squish that spider (love you Holly; read this people; the amazing Bardic Amazon has her Sun, Mercury, Uranus and North Node all in Scorpio)! Don’t hate yourself if you do! Always love with your all.
Truth without love is brutality;
love without truth is hypocrisy
(Warren W. Wiersbe).
This video oozes both truth and love,
and despair for the absence of it.
If it stretches you a bit,
we are holding hands.
We are safe.
Keep the message please.
Caged tigers, stray kittens, lab rats
Are Us; we are One Universal Soul.
We are here to be loving and protecting
one another, all beings, always.
Stay with me after this.
Alright my sweethearts, let me escort you back into the bright light with something joyously soothing now, but on the same wavelength of deep emotion. The difference is that this one is a male in a male-dominated world, and he has not gone through Angela Gossow’s types of hardship. The composer of Love is All, my fellow countryman Γιάννης Χρυσομάλλης who moved from Kalamata to the United States at 18, the famous Yanni, is also a Scorpio, this one with a four-planet stellium; Sun, Venus, Mercury, Saturn, all in the mystical zodiac sign of death and rebirth. Come now, dance with me and enjoy this slideshow; let these adorable animals remind us how we are meant to be keeping each other truly alive.
Daniel, my Sun-Mercurian-Neptunian Scorpio Brother, what you published for me yesterday, I will be sacredly holding within my soul for countless lifetimes to come. Our meeting here is an episode after a long series of preceding ones in the timelessness of the Divine.
More about this, for all of you my sweet souls, in my new static page Remember.
I thank you for all your precious time, and I pray you are always protected and uplifted. Love is All.
And for those of you into astrology
who have not yet come across
some basics of mine I have shared,
I, Leon of SolitaryThinkers, am not a Scorpio Sun;
I am a Leo Sun (and Mars and Midheaven),
but I have my natal Moon and Neptune there, and not only;
at the moment of my birth this time around,
the forceful constellation of Scorpius
was rising on the eastern horizon of the sky.
* * *
This post started out as a comment, a reply to Clarissa and Cheryl under my previous reblog post. I decided that its place is here, so it can be seen by a few more Dear Ones my heart aches that I cannot visibly honor as much as I would like to.
You are all life savers and I am on meadows of heaven with each one of you.
Dear Ones Clarissa and Cheryl,
I cannot but stand in humble awe before this universal synchronicity; in grateful admiration and adoration before you together here coming to save me as I had become a ranting little thing feeling utterly useless again, reaching the threshold of destructiveness. All I could think about was giving up, because I’d had enough of everything, myself included, when I received your responses here and started coming back to my senses. My considerately expressed despair might still cause you to feel some sadness; I apologize for this, and I pray that together we can continue transmuting our heaviness to perseverance and commitment to our missions in this world, as far away from them as the externals of our lives may seem to be leading us. Here is a warm threefold hug before we go on. I love you my sisters. I am so grateful to you, and for the weighty soul contract the three of us have obviously signed.
Thank you so much for your caring deep concern for Plutonia, Clarissa. And Cheryl, it’s perfectly OK that you didn’t mention her in your first comment; no sort of failure on your part. You always bless her just as my love for you always blesses all members of your family. Plutonia has never personally exchanged a word in English with anyone, but Clarissa has a Hadean connection to her because of both their challenging twelfth houses (my own gloom springs from elsewhere and is just as evident as my optimistic sunshininess, as I only have a protective Jupiter in my twelfth house touching on my Ascendant), whereas you have sensed Plutonia’s detachment from our blog and you never cease supporting her through me. I appreciate very much that we all do our best to be dancing harmoniously together. Above any other function our blogs may be serving, fostering a true heart family is the most important.
Blogging is over for Plutonia my sweethearts. At least until we find some sort of place in this world. It is the least of our problems that we have only this one ancient desktop computer which takes forever to load a simple page or save a large document and let alone play any video steadily, an anytime-about-to-collapse machine with which we have to be taking care of all sorts of authority-related obligations for ourselves and her mother in two countries.
Plutonia is very depressed. This trip in Germany she had not even asked for, did not help at all. Our life is all the more painful now after we both felt the hollows of those relatives’ spirits waiting to be filled also by us. They felt it too, albeit mostly on a barely conscious level, so I never give up hope that they, too, attract miracles for us all.
These excellent insights of Bethany Webster’s, the worst scenarios in her The Rupture of the Mother Line article, are only mildly hinting to what my Beloved has been going through all her life. She has not read it yet, and I don’t know if she ever will at all, because she doesn’t feel any words can help her anymore. She desperately needs action and we are so trapped here. She is a broken woman and still breathing here inside these four walls thanks to my light, which is often struggling to not be becoming a destructive fire. Her mother who still lives in another town, is a gravely damaged soul, something I had recognized right from the very start. I do not shy away from such problems, I would have left my last breath right after my first if I did, but I am such a misplaced healer, so like a fish out of the water without the ashram Plutonia sees I am really cut out to be working in, and in that respect she sometimes painfully wonders what I ever wanted a wife for, given also that my talents have always been so out of place in this German colony of a country, where her mother moved into in the seventies, in order be hailed like a queen come from the civilized world to enlighten the savages. She ascribes to her genuinely humanitarian daughter much of her failure to rule, and now her heavily drugged mind will not even consider the possibility that she has completed her lessons for this lifetime. Not that anything will change for the better if she leaves. It is getting harder and harder for the two of us to be feeling that our roles in each other’s lives have any worldly perspective. In material terms I have nothing to offer, and waiting to win the lottery sucks. We are so exhausted, our bodies ageing fast, and whatever blogging I manage to be accomplishing here is only life-saving with me disappearing in front of the screen in a separate room while she spends lonely days and nights on the couch in front of an old TV with just a few free channels. In the best case, I bathe myself in a paradise lake and can only bring back to her some bottles of healing water, whereas in the worst case I dump on her all my frustrations, feeling I have created an emotional mess in other people’s hearts, or simply suffering with their plights in a way almost incomprehensible to her when we ourselves don’t know if we will wake up to see another day. Or if we even want to. Too often before falling asleep have we prayed together to not wake up here again.
We deeply love one another, but we always have to struggle against almost uncontrollable negativity.
(Let me reverse these secondary sentences; the other way around is better for the always-half-full-glass type of person that I am: )
We always have to struggle against almost uncontrollable negativity, but we deeply love one another.
And you. We wouldn’t still be here without you, and I couldn’t love you more if you were my own blood sisters, girls. There is no need for you now to craft any replies here. After all, this is my reply to you. So let me kiss these two pairs of itchy-fingered hands calm and reassure you that whatever happens, all will be well for us all, as we work towards a desperately needed, loving matriarchy, of which we already experience the silent transition phase.
I thank you beyond eternity for embracing this honest fool of a brother, and one another, Cheryl and Clarissa, my saturnized beloved ones.
Every day praying for blessings in your lives,
I am on meadows of heaven with you.
Love and Hugs,