Downloads from Dawn for 2013 and Beyond

Archive for the ‘2012’ Category


Into the Canyon Love Came

Four years ago today I was in Havasu Canyon home of the Havasupai. The experience that follows is always more with me especially at this time. 

In 2009 my friend Karen Johnson and I backpacked into Havasu Canyon.  This area was unfamiliar to me yet many of the Havasupai still live in this remote western end of the Grand Canyon home of Havasu Falls’ blue-green waters. Traditionally considered the Guardians of the Grand Canyon, the tribe in 1919 was restricted to the area into which we hiked when the national park was designated.

When the anniversary of our trip rolls around each year, I’m especially mindful of a particular vision I was shown while at the Falls one day.Image

Each afternoon we’d make our way through the campground to the cool blue water, the gathering place of many campers in the mid-day heat. To the Havasupai these waters were healing and sacred.  Knowing this created tension for me as hikers often climbed the rocks and jumped turning these sacred grounds into a water park.

One afternoon while lying on my towel immersed in the sounds of the Falls and the people around me, I had a vision.  At first I was saw a five-pointed star. Then from the star’s center, a ramp came down as if someone walked from the star.  Then the star’s edges took a cloud-like shape and the star became a heart.  Slowly the heart separated into pieces then vanished.

I turned this over and over in my mind so as to not forget the symbols amidst the surrounding noise and distractions. I intuitively sensed I had been shown Sirius but I wasn’t sure and didn’t know why.

As I noted the vision, I was joined by a dog. I called to his owners as they played cards on their nearby blanket and asked his name.

“Moses,” they shared.

As soon as I heard “Moses” I knew I had seen Sirius for all I knew about Sirius is it’s called “The Dog Star.”  This four-legged, friendly confirmation affirmed my hunch.

I have kept this vision close since then and have wondered why, why, why it appeared to me.  Now I’m given a glimpse as I realize:

Into the canyon, Love came.

From the void where all appeared dark, Love came from the stars 

and Love on Earth was born. 

Love, Love came from the Stars to dwell in our bodies, minds, spirits and hearts.

Imagine the Shift of Earth’s people remembering we are each Love and we come from the Stars.

-Dawn! The Good News Muse 30 June 2013


Golden Hands and Golden Hearts

On the afternoon of June 11, 2012, exhaustion suddenly overcame me.  I have learned to listen when this occurs for I’m often given a message.  As soon as I closed my eyes, I saw an eye, an eye that I know is feminine because of its long lashes.   She had not appeared to me for some time.  This time though the eye was closed.  Within seconds it vanished then returned and was open.

This eye which I consider the feminine aspect of the Divine was quickly followed by a raccoon’s masked face.  A second soon joined it.  The faces of two young raccoons remained in my field of vision then vanished. They were replaced by a golden hand its palm facing upward extending from me as if I were offering my hand to someone or something.

I had seen raccoon eyes and the eye before but never a golden hand.   I noted this series of images and then returned to work.


Just over two weeks later as I concluded my morning walk, I heard Judy my neighbor calling my name.  She stood in her yard diagonally across the street animatedly shouting that she had an emergency.

Inside I smiled as I heard the phrase, “two baby raccoons.”  This was related to the vision. Curled in a plastic crate by another neighbor’s house were two young raccoons fast asleep.


Three of us stood over these sleeping youngsters and agreed it was wisest to leave them in hopes their mother returned.  I was relieved yet curious and torn because of the vision. Why had I seen the golden hand?  Was I to lend a hand?  This was the time of day usually reserved for my writing, yet it was all I could do to stay focused and not intervene.  Yet not intervening felt right.

The next morning we discovered the raccoons were gone.  Judy and I stood in the street and cheered. Then I went about my day wondering how this was connected to what I had been shown.

That afternoon Judy called again.  The prior day’s events were a prelude to an unfolding story.  The young raccoons had been found in the yard of our newest neighbor who had swiftly hired an animal trapping service.  A trapper had already arrived and for several hundred dollars caught one of the babies and left baited traps for the remaining one which had climbed a tree.  A third neighbor had asked the trapper what would be done with the baby.  The business owner said he would abide by federal guidelines. When asked if this meant he would kill the raccoon, the trapper reiterated he would “follow guidelines.”  This neighbor quickly searched for the guidelines and couldn’t clearly discern what the man really meant.  I then learned another local business used trapped raccoons for training hunting dogs.  This made me sick.

Heartbroken I weighed whether I was to intervene and call my neighbor.  What if he was upset and told me this was none of my business?  I did not want to create hard feelings yet I had hard feelings related to what had already occurred.  Judy persisted and contacted with someone in the neighborhood who traps feral cats for neutering and spaying.  I was in my raised beds trying to dig my sorrow for the raccoons away when Judy and Cici arrived with a trap.  I feared it was too small but agreed to set it overnight in my yard in hopes of beating the business man to the remaining young raccoon.

The next morning, my trap was empty and I felt panic.  To ignore calling my new neighbor felt like I was ignoring the vision and the raccoon.  I had to reach out, extend a hand.

I suspect some people in small towns, like the one in which I grew up, think urban folk don’t know their neighbors.  This may be true for some neighborhoods but not Westwood.  Seven homes in my little ‘neck of the world,’ a dead end street in Nashville’s busy West End/Vanderbilt area, have been occupied by the same residents for going on twenty years.  We have an unofficial neighborhood watch when it comes to one another.  Our watch includes animals.

In talking with our newest neighbor, I explained that we’re accustomed to raccoons and opossums navigating our yards at night.   The new neighbors weren’t. They were frightened; concerned the raccoons would try to nest under their house.

I offered to reimburse my neighbor half of the fee he had already paid the trapping company if he would give me the young raccoon.  He confirmed it was in the cage and the business had been alerted.  Yet upon hearing of “Walden’s Puddle” he quickly agreed, not to taking my monetary offer, but to giving me the young raccoon if I could get it in time.

Imagine my joy when I found these dear eyes looking at me.

I called a fourth neighbor who helped me get the raccoon into small carrier she offered to the endeavor.

With the raccoon in the front seat, I made the thirty minute drive to “Walden’s Puddle” singing most of the way.  I sang and this dear, dear animal in return made a chirping, purring sound like my cat when she’s extremely content.  The raccoon, it seemed, sang back to me the entire way.

I had heard of “Walden’s Puddle” for years but had never taken an animal there.  As I handed over the young raccoon, a woman walked in with a fawn in her arms.  A Walden staff member checked its skin and confirmed her suspicion – dehydration.  The summer’s drought was impacting animals significantly.  The lack of water meant mothers couldn’t easily produce milk for their young.  The fawn had been in the middle of the road.  It did not move even when the woman parked and walked up to it.  It allowed her to take it into her arms and place it into her car.  A technician immediately took the fawn and I walked to my car realizing I was in heaven on Earth.

I’m one of those persons that knows a line to a song but never the entire song.  I drove back to Nashville with a line “We’ve got to get back to the garden” singing through my mind knowing Walden’s Puddle is a special part of Earth’s garden.

As I neared home, I called the neighborhood network to share our success and thank them for their help.  Unfortunately I learned the trapper was now trying to catch the mother raccoon.  Our neighbor had signed a 7 day contract and for whatever reason couldn’t or wouldn’t tell the man to not return even though the man had received payment in advance.

Our endeavor was not complete.  I stopped at the neighborhood hardware store to look into the cost of a large humane trap.  I learned the men at Hillsboro Hardware are part of my tribe as they shared of rescuing bunnies in their yards so their dogs couldn’t kill them.

As I paid for a trap, I heard playing on the store radio, “We’ve got to get back to the garden.”   The Universal ipod confirmed my journey.  Before leaving the store parking lot, I found the lyrics on-line.  I sat in my car smiling outside and inside as I came upon the line that reads:  We are golden.  And I thought of the golden hand in my vision.

My neighbors and those involved with Walden’s Puddle are golden.  My new neighbor is as well.  I called him again.  He agreed that if I used the new trap, I could render his traps harmless each night in hopes of my catching the mother.

Three mornings later I awoke to find her peering from the covered trap.

Unlike her baby, her initial response was upset.  She growled fiercely as I consoled her.  I squatted by the cage and said:  “I know it’s scary. Life on Earth can be hard.  When humans don’t understand the heart, it gets hard. Life gets hard and the heart gets hard.”  

I made the chirping sound the way its baby had talked to me hoping she would understand and said, “That’s the language your baby made.   It’s your first language.  I love you and am so sorry for what people have done because we have forgotten our first language.” 

At first as I spoke, the raccoon’s ears trembled.  Then I realized I had my journal in front of me, like a shield over my heart. I lay my journal aside and something shifted.  You may think I was imagining things but I saw the shift in the raccoon’s eyes.

I drove again from Nashville this time with a raccoon in a large trap in my back seat. Although she never chirped to me, she never growled after that first time.

What I ‘got’ or learned during that drive is something I am repeatedly taught by the animals I encounter.  I was so happy loving this animal yet there was a deeper love than mine in the car.  This animal loved me more than I could fathom more than I loved her.  We shared a bond that went beyond the moment.  I knew she appreciated my caring for her but most of all for caring about her children.

She seemed to say, “Thank you for extending the golden hand of your heart to my children and me.” 

The animals come here because they love us so.  They continue coming to Earth because they have a hope in us that many of us don’t even have in ourselves.  They are here partnering with us in this time of great unfolding Mystery as the feminine, feeling aspect of the Divine awakens.  They offer themselves to us in hopes that we might fully realize who we are.

Who are we?  We are golden.  We carry a golden heart from which we can at any moment extend a golden hand.   This is our first language when young, yet often like the mother raccoon, we learn to exhibit hostility and defensiveness rather than trust and love.  We learn to mask vulnerability like her initial grown hid her trembling ears.

What I know about myself, which may or may not be true for you, is when I forget my first language, Love, and don’t extend myself, to people or to the animals my heart begins to disconnect then gradually tune out and harden.

Our golden hearts have opportunities daily to extend ourselves, offering a hand to one another, to those we don’t know or think we know, to the animals and to Nature.  To do otherwise means we risk missing our reason for being alive.  To do otherwise, means we potentially miss our role in the greater awakening of Divine Love and getting “back to the garden” that is Earth.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse at 17 July 2012


My Mother, A Lion and The Divine Feminine

A prior vision of two lions, a male and a female, reminded me of another months ago involving a lion.  


In that vision I saw a beautiful lion made of light with a huge mane.  It dissolved and in its place was my mother’s face, her smiling, joyous face also made of light. I thought, ‘My mother has the love and courage of the lion.’

Months later the remembrance of this vision still makes me smile.

I smile yet wonder how many women are like my seventy-something Mother?  She represents so many throughout time assuming the role society suggested, devoting her life to family and trying to get everything just right.  I think of the female souls born in her time as courageous.  Do they realize their courage coming to Earth as carriers of the heart?  Do they see their beauty?  Do we see their beauty?

The root of the word courage is Latin and French for heart Yet courage is more associated with going into battle against an external enemy rather than standing and speaking for the heart.

In the book “Animal Speaks by Ted Andrews I read: “Lion represents the power of the female sun and the assertion of the feminine.”  There was a time when the lion and sun were considered symbols of the feminine.  Yet both, like courage, were co-opted and assumed by the powers of prior times.

How is it the symbolism of the lion, the sun and ultimately the feminine were taken over by the patriarchy and courage redefined?

During the times of the Roman coliseums thousands of lions were killed at the hands of the gladiators.  I’ve often wondered how a group of people could consider slaughter entertaining.  Were there women then who wanted to step forward and demand an end to such stunning loss?  Did any of them suggest to their husbands that killing animals for sport was not an act of courage?  I’ve similarly wondered how early American women in particular kept quiet as Native Americans were removed from their homes or as slaves brought here were then beaten into subservience.  And how did the women in Hitler’s Germany maintain quiet as millions upon millions were sent to concentration camps?

When I think of history, I want to know the history of the human heart and how it is we can be so dark?  How is it the carriers of Love over time were as a whole so silent?  What happened to the masculine that allowed such heartless seeming acts to unfold?

Even today I wonder how people consider dog fighting and sex trafficking entertaining. (Bear with me here.)  The past winter, I’ve learned how ignorant and in the dark I’ve been of events in my own Tennessee backyard.

In late November, Animal Rescue Corp rescued sixty dogs in “Operation Broken Chain” on Nashville’s outskirts in a large dog fighting operation.  Dog fighting in itself is cruel and abusive, yet I did not know until this rescue that owners kill the dog that looses unless it is killed in the fight.

The same week while on-line seeking another website, I came across a sex trafficking website for  End Slavery TN helping young women on the road to healing who have escaped traffickers.  I clicked on an interview in which a young woman named Hope told her story.  She bravely explained how she and others were made to crawl unclothed across a stage with dog collars around their necks before an audience.  Then they were graded on their performances sexually.  What?!!!

How, how, how can a person find entertainment in watching fights between dogs, man’s best friend, or seeing man’s helpmate, woman, treated with such horror and disdain?

What has happened to the human heart, soul and brain?  Has the collective heart over time experienced so much pain that we’ve become anesthetized on some level? Have those of us who are sensitive found it easier to turn away?  I thought of the phrase: “Out of sight.  Out of mind.”  Given this, it’s not a stretch to ‘out of heart’ is it?

More specifically what has happened to my heart?  How have I neglected this story for two months?  Is it as simple as fearing people will cringe or be uncomfortable upon reading this?  Where is my courage?

Months ago after noting the vision of the lion and my mother, I also wrote of a scene from childhood that at the time entered my mind, a scene to which I was witness as a preteen.  My mother wanted to sing in the church choir and somehow my father, who only went to church episodically, learned of this.  He condescendingly told her, “You just want to be seen.”

I now think, ‘Excuse me.  My mother just wanted to sing, yet is there something so wrong with wanting to be seen?’

In our house there was.  My father was one of the most kind, caring and generous men in our community.  The receiving line to express condolences when he died was outside the door of the funeral home until past closing time.  As is not uncommon, my father was not fully the person in public that he was at home.  He cared for us materially yet he could be condescending and controlling especially of my mother.  Sharing through song would have been a means of expressing her joy, finding her voice and being in her heart.  Yet that moment of giving in to my father was one of many I suspect in which she disconnected from her beauty and her voice.

My father wasn’t born a controller. He was first controlled by his parents as they feared their only child might die.  Penned in the lines of his baby book I have read of my grandparents’ fear that he would die of whooping cough.

Vulnerable and afraid, they never loosened their grip on my father nor did he stand up to them.  Even late in life my grandfather followed my father an adult about town keeping tabs on his whereabouts.  Today this is called stalking.  I suspect feeling out of control and ashamed in relation to his father prompted my father to be more controlling at home rather than encounter my grandfather’s rage.

My father was controlled and became a controller.  It wasn’t until he could no longer control a cancer diagnosis that he became vulnerable.

Four decades later, the past mingles with the present as I experience the effects of the father of my childhood residing in me.  On the next page in my journal, the day after I noted the vision, I wrote of coming across a You Tube video of a singer who had won “The Voice.”  Not watching much tv, I didn’t know what “The Voice” actually was.  The telling thought I confided in these private paper pages was, ‘If my father hadn’t been so controlling or my mother hadn’t listened to him, I might have been a singer or certainly have had an easier time having my voice.’

Expressing myself through stories may appear easy, yet with stories such as this I spend weeks, months, discerning what to write, trying to get my message perfectly clear so as to ensure I won’t be judged.  In trying to protect myself from judgment, I distance from my heart and voice.

Just as my father didn’t want my mother stepping outside his comfort zone the controller now in me likewise doesn’t want me stepping beyond my box. My enemy is internal. My battle isn’t with swords or guns but with subtle embedded beliefs.  The frightened masculine in me tries to exert control as it fears my being seen, being vulnerable.

Yet aren’t we at our most vulnerable when revealing our insides?  Doesn’t fully inhabiting our hearts mean being vulnerable and open to everything including pain?  Aren’t we at our most powerful when we live and speak from our insides?   

Individuals like Hope and groups like End Slavery TN and Animal Rescue Corp embody the original intent of courage.  They  stand and speak for the heart.  They embody the early symbolism of the Lion.  These groups and individuals aren’t just rescuing young women and animals; they are excavating and reviving the heart on a quantum level. They are integral to the rising Divine Feminine as is my Mother who continues to express joy and love in spite of numerous losses and changes over the last seven years.

What if the Divine has been awaiting this time, a time when all of us, women and men alike, have the opportunity to remember and own the feminine energies we hold, not to control, compete with or suppress the masculine, but to engage with compassion and  find our Voice as we stand and speak for the heart.  It is time to be seen, to demand  an end to dog fighting, animal abuse and sex trafficking.  It is time to reclaim the original meaning of courage and not speak in hate but with firm compassion from our hearts.

Can you imagine it?   What if we are in this time writing a new chapter in the history of the Heart?

I believe it is written in the stars and this is the time to fulfill our part.

Can you sense courage stirring, stirring in your heart?

(I just learned earlier tonight that Hope in the video I saw earlier is on Channel 2 WKRN in Nashville in the morning, Sat. Feb. 16 at either 6 or 8:00.)

Dawn, The Good News Muse, 15 Feb. 2013

The Year of the Snake – The Healing Power of Venom

As the Chinese New Year began recently and I learned this is the Year of the Snake I immediately thought of a vision I had last August.

I was shown the fuchsia face of a man in the stars.  Something about him immediately reminded me of former vice-president Cheney yet I knew it wasn’t him.  His face vanished and an elephant’s trunk appeared.  It then vanished and was replaced by a huge snake reminiscent of the one in the Harry Potter series.  It crawled into my field of vision in the stars then opened its mouth just like in the movie.

Everything went black.  Then a fuchsia heart shape appeared.  I could feel it pulsing energy to me, feeding and invigorating me, as I recorded the vision and wondered what it meant.

I sensed the snake represented the Divine Feminine enveloping the man as the word transmutation came to mind.  Yet I wondered, ‘Who was the man?’

Twenty-days later I came home from being out of town for a week.  I was sorting the mail and newspapers saved for us by a neighbor.  The story and photos on the front page of the Tennessean from two days prior literally took my breath.

There on the cover of our local paper was the man in my vision sitting atop an elephant he had killed.  The stories heading read: “He takes hunting to an extreme.”  The reporter told of a local sixty-year old who after a health scare in 1999 decided to hunt “dangerous” animals.  The story referred to animals of course as ‘game’ but this was no game to me.  This man hunts my children, an elephant and leopard in Zimbabwe, a brown bear in Russia, a hippopotamus, zebra, fox, every deer imaginable and thousands of fowl.

I did not want to read the story.  Even now to write of it brings tears to my eyes.  Yet to avoid it was to neglect the vision and resist listening for its message.

So I read.  And I have  read the story again and again this week listening, still listening wanting to discern why this was delivered to me by the Universe and the newspaper man.

The local hunter invoked God in defending his pastime quoting scripture from Genesis where God told Noah that every moving thing that lived was food for him and his family.  I thought, ‘I bet God wants to take that back.  Surely he had no idea Earth would become so overrun with people, people who would crowd out and kill off creation with a hunting arsenal like this mans.’

The writer relates how local school children in one village were dismissed from school when the hunter killed the hippopotamus, so they could gather meat for their families from the bed of his truck.  Similarly the elephant fed 100 people in a village for over a month.  I read this yet thought, “Why not use your passion and money to teach these villagers something that would last a lifetime that they could pass on to their children, something that didn’t involve killing the endangered animals of God’s earth?”

The writer quoted him as saying, “Everything I do, I do to an extreme.

And this is where the story comes around to me – to me, to you, to the snake and the fuchsia heart here in the year of the Snake.  We are here to love to the extreme. 

I knew the August afternoon of the vision that I was to follow the example of the snake, to ingest the traits of this person I find most disturbing in order to transmute the negative in him as well as myself.  The Snake as a Divine symbol says, “Hold the all of who this man is as well as yourself in Love.”

Then earlier this week I came across the latest National Geographic buried beneath a pile of papers.  I had not yet looked at it. I glanced at the cover and saw what I knew was a message for me.  A story headline in the bottom corner read: The Healing Power of Venom.  

My breath was taken.  Immediately I knew what I consider poisonous in this man is here to activate the power of my heart creating a healing venom for him and for me.

If I had to rely on myself alone I could not respond to the Call of this vision.  Yet I nor we do this alone.  The Heart of the Universe that pulsed energy to me, whether you call it God, Great Spirit or Goddess. feeds us if we are open to holding the abuses and violations of this world that stem from shame, ignorance, arrogance and self-hate.

Is there anything more beautiful in this Year of the Snake than transforming the poisons in our world into venom that heals?  Is there anything more beautiful than loving in extreme in this profound way?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse, 15 Feb. 2013


Are You A Willing Weaver?

Early this Spring one afternoon sleep over came me and I lay down.  As soon as I closed my eyes a fuchsia spider crawled into my black field of vision.  The spider itself then turned black as my field of vision turned fuchsia. I watched the little black spider crawl upward. As it got to an edge the Universe appeared and spider vanished as it crawled into the stars.  The scene then began to move away from me. As it did, I realized the Universe was in an eye, a woman’s eye which I think of as the Divine Feminine.

For days I tried to figure this out. What was I being told?

Something has shifted in my brain over the last year. For a long time I blamed it on surgery nearly two years ago then on nearing menopause.  Now I sense it’s part of another shift, a shift from my thinking the way I’m accustomed to listening deeply and intuitively.

Days passed and a month later, I snapped this photo of our clematis. This is the most beautiful it’s been in the nearly twenty years since we planted it.

After taking the photo I saw the spider and immediately thought of my vision as well as another last Fall when I was in the stars and saw a black hole or portal holding what I knew was the uncreated energy in the Universe making itself available to us now for conscious creation.

This speck of a spider so near the clematis’ center looked right at me and suddenly I knew what it was telling me:  “This is where I crawled to in the Universe. I am at that energy center making available for all who are willing weavers new energy for this Time, energy of Love wanting to come into the Earthly realm, but I need willing weavers.”

I’m a willing weaver most days yet there are times when I still go unconscious, struggle and disconnect.

Spider says: Give me the strands of what you call fear, your uncertainty and apprehension and let us hold them in Love for you do not do this alone.  I sit at the portal ready to weave with all on Earth and through the Universe the energy of compassion and love.”

Are you a willing weaver?

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 21 June 2012

Reposted 24 January 2013


Lions of Light – A Vision from the Night

(This vision was originally posted 11/19/12 at “Imagine the Shift” another of my sites.)
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Last night I saw lions of light.  As I lay in bed, I was suddenly in the Universe.  In the stars appeared the face of a lion. Its mane and features were outlined in faint white lines of energy’s light.  Then to the right of the male appeared a female lioness, her face was similarly outlined in what I knew was energy’s white light.

Two lions male and female symbols of courage, strength, loyalty and honor showed themselves in the stars. And I knew I was being shown the presence of the Divine Masculine and Divine Feminine arriving in this time.

Never before have we had this degree of opportunity for both masculine and feminine energies to be present on Earth in partnership, strength, vulnerability and balance within each of us and between each of us.

These lions and lines of light are making themselves available to us to awaken the lines of light of which we’re made so we may carry the energy of the lions and their courage, love and strength.

Imagine the Shift this brings.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse 19 November 2012 & 17 January 2013

We Are Dream Catchers

This morning I awoke seeing a background of black covered in white dots. At first I slightly panicked.  Was something wrong with my eyes?  Then the white lines began connecting the dots.

Like a giant etch a-sketch, an intricate spider web was formed in the blackness.  I knew I was being shown that we are connected. Image

The web reminded me of a Native American dream catcher.  I realized this was perfect.  We are Dream Catchers.  Our interconnectedness allows us to catch the dream, the Big Dream for this Time.

-Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift

12 January 2013