Life on the beach, time for prophesying to begin

     She rises within and says: I am a broad beach, an inlet, a tide pool amongst the rocks at the edge of the eternal sea.
     The tide comes in, bringing with it and depositing it's secret treasures and trinkets to be considered, mulled over, picked apart and analyzed, played with and delighted in.
     The tide goes out and the feast begins. From land and air and from even out of the seas herself they come. They pick over and through what was left with me.
     Am I only ever to be walked over and harvested from? No one can dwell upon me, they only visit and experience enjoyment or launch their boats out from before me. I cannot become a forest or a mountain for the sea sends in her tide again and again to reclaim me. What else could a beach ever be?
    This beach is the leading edge of creation. It is where the beasts and birds meet the most sacred, where they bask in the sun, frolic in the waters and leave gifts to the sea and the sun. Come.
     Gone are the days of the mountains, of the higher learning and higher thinking, detached from the rest of reality. Come are the days at the beach. Come are the days of playing in the sun and frolicking in the waters. Come is the exchange of gifts. Come is my love to claim and reclaim, time and time again: "I want her! I love her! She is my beach! She is my home within my creation! She is my lover and my friend!"
     And so the prophesying begins........

From amongst the darkest depths of consciousness I have come, year after year, cycle after cycle, up and up and up. We "work the fields" all summer, tending our hearts and minds and bodies, our families and communities, fertilizing and watering with what we are given. Then the fall begins. The books are opened and the harvest begins, we reap what we sew. Once the harvest is in we celebrate and feast and rest. Then we divy up the harvest, what will stored, what will be given. The feast of Trumpets, The Feast of Tabernacles and Solstice (Christmas). Prophesy tells us what the harvest is, what is already written and it has not failed yet.
         8:8:8 Lion's Gate, the last work of the summer. What did we do with that which we were given? Did we use it to water our gardens? In these circles, yes, of course. Here there is dedication to up building, encouraging, loving bringing together, weeding and separating, nurturing and playing, thanking.
         So now the harvest is brought in: prophesying and understanding, gifts of the spirit: knowing, seeing, sensing, healing, family. Bonds are released. Abundance of all forms comes in.
        Rest, relaxation, celebration., appreciation.
        The exchange of gifts, spiritual and physical.
         Incubation.
         Spring, when the new life truly begins and the butterfly takes flight.

Now comes he who cleanses. He who oppresses, compresses, and refines that which has been brought in. In come fear and dread and ecstatic cleansing. In comes practical application. In comes the mind. In comes the question: has my work been done? Is it time to merely just play with these things, a light-hearted jaunt in history, the making and remembering? Will this lion lay down with his lamb?
    For this one the seasons have been relentless. Shall they now become refreshing? Has ease truly set in? If relief coming in the form of? "Yes" is whispered a passionate promise. And the devotion rises within.