Archive for March, 2011

Fred and Ginger: Too Hot to Handle

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as long as your thoughts rest on his and hers, yours and mine, and so on..you will never have real love. love does not exist in duality. love is the force that makes you ONE with your mate. in love there is no score card. love is not a game to win or lose. love is everything and until you see love as everything…you will continue to have nothing. -sst

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every seven years every cell in the body turns over and your organs can be completely renewed…. if you change your habits and lifestyle now you can heal anything and everything. God didn’t make an inept machine…He made a divine being capable of self renewing in the light of His love. trust in divine love as a powerful healing tool. pray for an open heart that can be opened and renewed by the hand of God instead of the hand of man. man is not God but a child of God. Let the power of our source heal the body of our existence.-sst

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a person can be happy living in one room with someone they love but couldn’t be happy in a palace with someone they don’t. once you know real love that’s all that matters. happiness is simple. happiness is love….that’s what real wealth is all about. love is simple. -sst

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“My Favorite Things”

The love of my life, my Owen JOSEPH, my beautiful O…I love you so..forever and ever in time and in eternity in CHRIST in us. I do. Amen.- Shannan Suzzette

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No More Words: A Journal Of My Mother Anne Morrow Lindbergh -by Reeve Lindbergh

After suffering several strokes, Anne Morrow Lindbergh (who died this year) spent the last year of her life in Vermont, on the farm of her daughter Reeve’s family. Just as Anne undertook Gift from the Sea in 1955 as a spiritual recon, so Reeve (Under a Wing) here explores her feelings about her visibly aging mother. Early on, Reeve dreams she’s sitting on a railway bench flanked by two women: the vibrant mother of decades earlier and the ghostly incarnation living with her now. “You just have to take care of her,” her “real” mother tells her. “Taking care” is not about feeding and bathing (the domain of some extraordinary Buddhist caregivers), but witnessing her transition from old age into death.


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Dearly Beloved

(people don’t need more methods to understand love, truth, honor, happiness, and peace…they need more heart and more courage to share their honesty through the journals of their soul -sst) 

Dearly Beloved -by Anne Morrow Lindbergh

This classic book, first published in 1962 and long out of print, illuminates the truths behind marriage, not with easy optimism, but with perception, compassion, candor, and courage.

Product Description
A June wedding sets the scene for Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s bestselling novel, Dearly Beloved. The ceremony is a great moment during which the “gathered together” survey not just this couple, this occasion, but their own lives, hopes, and fears. As the family and guests follow the familiar marriage service, they are stirred to new insights-on love, on marriage, and on all the stages of development involved. For the young and eager bridesmaid and best man, marriage still lies ahead; but for the mothers of the bride and groom, and for friends and relatives, the sight of the young couple and the words of the minister evoke more troubling thoughts and deeper questions. Anne Morrow Lindbergh wisely chose the framework of a wedding as a meditation on togetherness to contrast the questions she contemplated on solitude in her bestselling classic Gift from the Sea. The novel’s structure also gave her scope for her reflections-some of them autobiographical-and intuitions about the most crucial of human relationships, reflections she calls “a theme and variations.” This classic book, first published in 1962 and long out of print, illuminates the truths behind marriage, not with easy optimism, but with perception, compassion, candor, and courage.
About the Author
Anne Morrow Lindbergh was born in 1906 to financier, diplomat, and U.S. Senator Dwight W. Morrow and poet and women’s education advocate Elizabeth Cutter Morrow. In the winter of 1927, Anne met the famous aviator Charles A. Lindbergh. They were soon married and Charles taught Anne how to fly. She became the first licensed woman glider pilot in the United States. Recognized as an important contributor to the aeronautical and aerospace fields, Anne was also inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame. However, Anne was best known as the author of 13 books including Gift from the Sea, reflections on her travels with her husband, and personal diaries. Anne retired to Connecticut after her husband’s death in 1974, where she lived until her death in 2001.


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edward said that all relationships are mergers. most are just not clear in their intent or offering capability. he said it is just easier to say, “this is what I have to offer and this is what I want in return. then, everybody is clear about the intentions and obligations of the relationship and it is not muddied with romantic notions that are simply irrelevent childish illusions. when all needs are met and satisfied by both parties then the relationship between two adults can develop in a secure environment with no doubts as to the boundaries, intentions, and desired fulfillment of both parties. that is a mature outlook, clear and to the point. a sincere respectful love grows in that ground of security and that is what a mature man offers a woman. women need a mature man to make them feel safe and free and that is our job.” …… well, edward has always been right. when the boundaries and intentions are not clear to either party, the relationship flounders like a fish out of water and offers no real secure basis for growth or a sustainable happiness for the future. clarity, discernment, and pure conscious intention comes with maturity and financial security. a man who is financially secure knows how to secure a woman he desires. that is true. edward is always right. -sst

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June 27, 2009

No Words…..

Today the sun is healing me, revitalizing me, and empowering me as I write this note. The West has won my heart with its ever-present light and dance of elements. The sky moves through me like a sand painting, beautifully etched in brilliant colors in my mind’s eye, then quickly replaced by a grey cloth covering of memories filled with heavy drops of cleansing water.

I miss him, but this too passes quickly back into a great light of warmth holding me still in the moment of now. I have learned to surf these moods and write them out like colors and tones harmonically healing me in a symphony of nature’s music. Love is ever-present in me and pouring through the veins of time. I write words but words cannot describe the essence of life, love, or God that I feel.

God is what I have come to know in this year of musing through a traveler’s soul. I came to quest my nature. Solid? I don’t know. Stable? I don’t know. Real? What is reality? I don’t know.

The artist surfaced and spoke to me in a language of lyrical discontent. Colors rambled on like ribbons flowing out of me. Circling words, thoughts, images, sounds, scents, memories of vulnerabilities imprisoned in a cellar of silence. I walked through the winds of Kansas and prayed at the foot of an ancient alter of Our Holy Mother… click click take me home…but what did that mean? Home was never solid, stable, or real….home was never safe. Never as safe as the tornado that I could see. Never as safe as the winter storm that banks us in a coat of coldness. Never as safe as the flood that rises and gives you time to swim. Home was never a safe place to bare my soul and open my heart.

So many new people I have come to meet this year call the wind their home and plant their roots in the soil of faith alone. All the world is unstable now. All the world is reframing their sense of what matters, their sense of what is truly solid and stable.

I have learned to surf new oceans of deeper emotions. The thoughts that used to tumble me into the depths of despair are looked upon now with a greater respect for lessons learned from a compulsive haste. Escaping reality is an illusion. We must all face the voice of our programmers sometime in life. We must all find the courage to surf alone and become our own authority.

Here in the West, I have found the solid ground of my own soul rooted in the shifting sands of time. For the first time I feel my life is mine and there is nothing more to fear. Life and death move their waves through me without the useless noise of chaos or drama.

I wrote words when I was a child, both harsh and sweet, based on dreams of going to a place where life was pleasant and people were genuine. I wrote words yet I spoke very few. Silence was what I sought. Silence was what I needed. Heaven was the voice I heard in my heart, yet the neon noise in my mind was so loud that my world became a carnival. Psychologically undermining spirits folded their arms around my life until my words were gone. Vacancy and dead silence entombed me. Buried alive. Not the kind of silence that God offers us in life.

Words were once my friends I met on the page. They danced with me in a lyrical flow. They traveled with me on great adventures and they urged me to honor the greatness of divinity in my own soul. My words wanted to be written. They wanted life.

Yet, as I aged, my fear of words grew strong as the words that were used to program me as a child clung to the lyrical creative threads in my mind like a southern kudzu mountain and emerged as animated monsters whenever I activated a dream of happiness and potential. These programmed words were not my friends at all. They were harsh, angry, and frightening. They had harsh angry voices attached to them that thundered with marching lightening bolts through my head. All creative action and happy words stopped for those storms.

No monster is greater than the monster you know. Thus, our words are taken into a family cellar and held in chains of fears until a holy light replaces the darkness in our minds. Until we hear the words of a real love.

Love needs no words in truth. Love flows into us on a holy veil of goodness and truth by chance, by fate, by God. Love saves our words and welcomes us into a holy silence of freedom. We need silence to know ourselves. We need silence to hear the voice of God.

God does not program us to be disempowered by fear and fright. How would the world flourish if fear were God’s only intent for creation. No. Seeds of fear are not God’s plantings for fear cannot bear the fruits of love.

Love is the seed of God’s light and from that light we are born into new words of sweet, holy joy, and creative abundance. This is what I have found to be true for me.

The landscape of the West moves me to walk in the silence of my soul with God as my friend on the page and in my heart. God moves our hand with goodness and joy not with a crippled pain of resentful obstinance and fear.

I have words now, still harsh at times and indulgently sweet at other times, yet now the days of endless sunshine and spots of rain clouds give me great space and sky to let the monsters dance away in their turbulent winds and I am not bound to follow them or be silenced by storms any longer.

Storms carry a beautiful destruction with them from which comes a gentle peace and a renewed vitality for life. Wisdom is in the words of silence and the heart of love. God speaks in tongues that are all around us and moving through us if we only open to the moment of His creative breath.

I offer you all the suggestion that love is always present in the landscape of our heart no matter how dense the air of our cellar of family darkness and secrets may seem. The light shines through the tiniest cracks and nature finds its way to the cleansing waters of truth eventually. Truth sets us free to be who we are in our soul. Listen for your sounds of silence and hear the words of your divine truth. You are loved forever and always. God is always with us in our heart and in our prayers.

Love is in the echo…

(c) shannan suzzette taylor

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