Archangel Haniel’s message for you:

My Heart Leaps Up


by William Wordsworth
My heart leaps up when I behold


A rainbow in the sky:


So was it when my life began;


So is it now I am a man;


So be it when I shall grow old,


Or let me die!


The Child is father of the man;


And I could wish my days to be


Bound each to each by natural piety.
“My Heart Leaps Up” by William Wordsworth.

Public domain. 

Hi Jeanne,

Archangel Haniel’s Message For You Today:

“I ask you to notice the natural world coming alive. As you connect with the environment surrounding you, you too burst forth with a renewed vitality. The plants offer their support and guidance to you. Just as I am always with you, the essence of the land also consistently works to support you. Give thanks to the land that offers you food, grounding, and shelter.”

Your Angel Number For Today:

8 – The 8 vibration fosters abundance as you begin to grow personally and spiritually. You are becoming aware of the divinity in things beyond yourself. You notice God in the people you meet, the animals you see, the trees surrounding your home. It was all created to nurture your soul. There is oneness in all of life.

Action Steps:
Bring signs of life into your home like flowers, greenery, or a wreath. Cook with herbs. Let these be reminders of the beauty of plant life.

Affirmation Of The Day:

“As I am a part of nature I embrace my season of growing, I am planting seeds that will one day need sowing.”

Love & Blessings,

laughter and howl

 

Nurture
by Maxine Kumin

From a documentary on marsupials I learn
that a pillowcase makes a fine
substitute pouch for an orphaned kangaroo.
I am drawn to such dramas of animal rescue.
They are warm in the throat. I suffer, the critic proclaims,
from an overabundance of maternal genes.
Bring me your fallen fledgling, your bummer lamb,
lead the abused, the starvelings, into my barn.
Advise the hunted deer to leap into my corn.
And had there been a wild child—
filthy and fierce as a ferret, he is called
in one nineteenth-century account—
a wild child to love, it is safe to assume,
given my fireside inked with paw prints,
there would have been room.
Think of the language we two, same and not-same,
might have constructed from sign,
scratch, grimace, grunt, vowel:
Laughter our first noun, and our long verb, howl.
 
“Nurture” by Maxine Kumin from Selected Poems: 1960-1990. W. W. Norton, © 1997. Reprinted with the permission of the estate of Maxine Kumin.

 

It’s the birthday of the author Helen Churchill Candee, née Hungerford, in New York City (1858). One of her early books was a how-to guide, How Women May Earn a Living (1900). Her husband, Edward Candee, was abusive, and she eventually took the children and left him. As a single working mother, she wanted to make sure that other women could find ways to support themselves without relying on men. She wrote books on decorative arts, and also published a novel, An Oklahoma Romance, in 1901.
Once she was established as a writer, Candee moved to Washington, D.C., and became one of the first professional interior decorators; several high-powered politicians, including Theodore Roosevelt, were her clients.
She was in Europe early in 1912 when she received word that her son, Harold, had been injured in an accident. Naturally, she wanted to return home as soon as possible. From Cherbourg, she boarded a brand new luxury liner, the RMS Titanic, bound for New York. When the ship struck an iceberg near midnight on April 14 and began to sink, Candee boarded Lifeboat Six, under the command of quartermaster Robert Hitchens. She tried to persuade him to go back after the ship went down, to search for any survivors, but he refused. She wrote a dramatized account of the voyage for Collier’s Weekly magazine, about an unnamed man and woman. The story, called “Sealed Orders,” included a romantic sunset visit to the bow of the great ship, and it may have inspired parts of James Cameron’s movie Titanic (1997).

Riddle#31 Ancestors

Dreams, it has been said, were the first poems and stories told around the fire in ancient tribal cultures. Jan Hutchinson

We gather, holding baskets
filled with fruit;
seeds and juices
of our loins.

Breasts ready to succor,
feet to serve,
ears to learn
what nurture needs.

Umbilical still grows,
Twists its lullabies;
In and out of sleep
and baths and blankets’ cover.

Become Your Father

:

“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist after one grows up.”
Pablo Picasso
1 Peter 1:24:
“All our greatness is like a flower that droops and falls; but the Word of the Lord will last forever: Jesus, the Living Christ!”

Look within
Locate your light!
Nurture it!

Create!
Inquire!
Ponder!

When you fade
Open the portal
To eternity

Your Father
Brother
Soul song!