BlogBlast For Peace 2018 ~ Dona Nobis Pacem

Welcome to the 2018 launch of Blog4Peace. We are an international group of bloggers and social media gurus who promote the cause of peace on our blogs, websites and pages. Click one of the links above to get your own peace globe and join us. It’s an amazing day on the Internet! Our theme this year is the power of words. Here’s my peace post. I’ll be by soon to read yours!
Words in Blue Kyanite
If there are stories to be told in heaven, let them be these. 

Let them be told as these have been told. Let verse and lyric rhyme as old saints do on the eve of great awakenings. Lean your ear toward what matters most and listen as spirits mutter sacred texts and beautiful songs. Stretched across the throne of the world from the top of heaven’s doorstep, words can still reach earth.  Stretched across the world’s doorstep in many homes and hovels today, words can still reach heaven. And you will say them again. And again. And again. That’s what storytellers do. That’s what peace bloggers do.
For you see, words are not only powerful for the content and wisdom they bring to bear; they are powerful for the reason they came to bear. There is no great catharsis, no sudden shift in the universe, no real progressive change in the world without storytellers. And you thought your chapter was over? Let me tell you something…it doesn’t end until you tell it to end. He had this twinkle you see….A spark of something that resided deep inside the brilliance of his mind. Something that glowed with kindness, documenting years on earth like centimeter markings on a ruler.  My Papa. He is the one who inspired me to write in the first place. He is the one who left me with an earth marble full of continents and rivers and mountains. He left me the whole world. 


And his hammer.Words are not the only tools we have.  He needed it to make things. I need it to smash my fingers. He understood hammers. I do not. 
 .
I’ve been asking him lately, in my dreams and in my mind, what story he wants to tell today on November 4th, because he always give me a nudge. And all I am hearing from him is that he wants me  – and you – to tell our stories. Now. Not his. Ours.  
 It is the most basic of human needs – the power and joy of connection. Of being heard. Of being heard!!!  Not because someone is shouting, anyone can start a movement if they’re loud enough, but because purposeful intent behind mightily built well-chosen words is strong enough to make a whisper ripple across seven continents and twenty-five rivers and still be understood on the highest mountain peak a thousand miles away.That’s what Papa’s marble did for me. That’s what your words do for the world each and every year.
And while there was serendipity and more than a few God winks to get the ball rolling (so to speak), the discovery of the marble only served to help me understand that in this life there are no coincidences. Every person you meet brings their energy, their intent, right smack-dab into your personal space…sometimes so close you want to (and should) run away and hide from it when things don’t feel right. That is discernment. Others bring the healing you need when you didn’t even know you needed to call a healer.


That is grace.
Which brings me to my friend.  It happened at the beginning of a new school year.  I bent over in agony when I heard the news, so unexpected it was, so cutting. It was a physical pain in the caverns of my body. I could hear the bones break in my brain.  I didn’t expect to feel her loss so viscerally. Peacefully housed in pine she lay weeping and exhausted no more. She was free. I was not.


I was afraid.And angryLet’s be real. My life was full of complaining. And whining. And posturing. And planning. And pondering. And procrastinating. And even whining to myself that complaining would do me in.  I was even tired of my own complaining! I’ve been tired and exhausted this year. Not.peaceful.at.all.
And there she was. Asleep forever in a cold pine box full of peace. Not even fifty years old. My heart broke for the losses and pain she endured on planet earth. 
I was at the crossroads between terror and panic. Would I be next? Would my body betray me as well? Can I live up to the example of courage she set?  Could I maintain this pace and keep my health intact? After all, she was the strongest person I knew. Heart-stopping, constricting air-depleting suffocation. Did I mention the fear?  Even so, I felt guilty for focusing on myself when it wasn’t about me at all. 
What was her story? She spoke loudly from the pine box. The silence was maddening. Knock it off, Mimi, and listen up! I can’t remember one single meeting, one single instance, one day or second or smile that was wasted on her. She made me better and sometimes made me mad doing it. Oh, but she didn’t know it. And she had no patience for my histrionic nature. She didn’t waste time worrying about how other people perceived her, whether or not she hurt your feelings, or how you arrived at any conclusion without her. She was too busy living strongly while she was dying slowly.
You knew you were in the presence of someone who knew what it meant to inhale and exhale with intent every single day. You knew, somehow you knew, that time spent with her were masterclasses in how to live fully.Image result for blue kyanite

Could there be a better time to shake up the world than on the day you decide to die? She shook up my world! Yes, I said decideI know that I know that I know (as my grandmother would say) that some people decide it is their day to die. Ascended gurus manage to mark the hour quite regularly. When it’s time for the body to give up its usefulness, it’s time to give up the ghost and take up a new identity somewhere else. 
And so my friend became my catalyst for change in a year that began in fear. That happens when you see someone you just talked to reposing in a pine box too soon. 
**Excuse me, Miss Pencil Skirt, said the doctor…but I don’t think you’re breathing quite right** 
 Fear is a simply a jumping off place. “What you do in this moment will determine everything,” whispered the Voice of reason.
I decided to change my words. Starting with my thinking
I wrote pages of self-talk: I will not tolerate pity. I will not tolerate blame. I will not tolerate complaining. I will not abide negativity. I will not entertain anger. I will not surrender to bitterness. I can breathe I can breathe I can breathe I can breathe…. 

“Gather your strength,” whispered Spirit. “Gather strength for yourself.”  I wanted to live well. I needed to love myself well enough to gather my strength and heal. Those who live well, by default love well. 

Image result for pyrophyllite images
Pyrophyllite

 I mean the kind of love that makes you sweat, requires your blood, makes you live in it, slog through it, talk about it, wade in it, fall down under the weight of it until you can’t even breathe because that devastating love is so full of itself. Have you ever come to a pivotal moment in your life when days were so dreary you’d rather feel something than nothing at all?  Your lungs are tight from holding back the light that so desperately wants to get in…but you can’t exhale well enough to inhale?  Stress will do that to a person. At least that’s what the doctor told me. What? What?? I can’t breeeaaatheee?? 
“No, Miss Pencil Skirt, something seems to be affecting your lung capacity.”  

This is not what you want to hear the day before you go to a funeral.
**raises hand**I think I need to call a healer.


I didn’t understand the world until I was sixty-years-old.It was then that understanding became too soft a word for the depth of knowing residing in the bones of six decades on earth.It was more like burning lava cooled by the flames of tea leaves. 

I love leaves

When my Papa was in his early sixties, he fell on the kitchen floor and took his last breath. Just like that. Suddenly. Without premeditation or fanfare. His lungs collapsed and the poison inside caused a massive crumble of tissue and structure.  He was gone before his head hit the floor.  

Kyanite blue in pyrophyllite stone


I never knew he couldn’t breathe. There was a ticking time bomb inside the man whose heart was overshadowed by a pair of lungs full of pyrophyllite dust. He never told me he couldn’t breathe!  I always thought he’d die of arthritis. Or working too hard. Or loving too much. I never dreamt he’d fall in a heap of poisoned air and give up the ghost on the kitchen floor. 

Look familiar?

He was too busy living to die of sensible causes. 
All he did was love me. In large loud bouts of contagious love. His love was all I heard. It. Was. All. He. Said.
Papa worked in a pyrophyllite plant (think talc) back in the day before it was safe to mine or breathe dust particles from the clay or work with the intensely heated kilns which were to used to mold particles for commodities like furniture. It caused fibrosis in some and unknown lung ailments in many. I didn’t know Papa couldn’t breathe. Apparently, neither did he. He just kept living. And loving everyone around him. Until he decided to fall on the kitchen floor. 

Kyanite

That one blue marble in the center of the bowl – yes, that one – is Kyanite, infused with and altered by pyrophyllite. It is a metamorphic mineral found in sedimentary rocks within soapstone mines in the southern United States, Brazil, New South Wales, Australia, India and Kenya. It contains aluminum silicate (hence the silent poison).


Kyanite gets its name from the Greek words for fire and leaf. Tonight I have discovered that this same blue stone has crystal healing properties especially in the throat area near the bronchial tubes.  I know little to nothing about the realm of gemstone metaphysics, but I do respect the power of Earth and the ancient wisdom of chakra healing. 
**You can’t breathe said the doctor You can’t breathe said the doctor*I never knew I couldn’t breathe until they told me I couldn’t breathe!! Has this ever happened to you?
And what other silent gift did he pass on to us?Pyrophyllite is also known as “Pencil Stone” (said The Pencil Skirt) and has been used to enhance writing abilities, helps to speak one’s truth with clarity and brings balance to all the Chakras. So you see, that wonderful blue marble we’ve gazed at since 2006 might well be one of the reasons that peace bloggers feel compelled to write. On some deep spiritual level we feel it. 
It’s alright if you don’t believe that. I’ve just unearthed this myself (so to speak). But doesn’t it make sense?  That blue stone became something beautifully rare and healing to all of us. Papa’s intent was good.Papa’s intent became our words.Papa’s destiny is still evolving.
I want mine to do the same.  Don’t you?
It wasn’t so much what he said throughout the years to his curly-headed, hardheaded granddaughter that made the cataclysmic shift in my DNA; it was the unspoken life of a simple man too busy living a simple life he loved to die conveniently proper. I want to die inconveniently improper too. 

Kyanite crystals.jpg
I think I just found my healer

 While Papa harvested dust and clay, he fashioned a symbol of the world for a granddaughter he couldn’t have known would ever even exist. Harvesting and working in the dust of those stones eventually led to his death. For him to pass this treasure on to me – to us – is surely more than coincidence. It illustrates how every single act we do on planet earth has a consequence, often far-reaching and seismic in nature. 
 All I remember was that he loved meand that was enough
He didn’t have to say a wordThat is the powerof words laid carefully round in blue Kyanite  

Jamie White ~ Washington


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Welcome to Blog4Peace 2018
Please visit each other and feel the power of this amazing day.

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You Don’t Have To Have a Blog To Blog 4 Peace

Use your Facebook, Instagram or Twitter account!
November 4 is the day.
We hope to see you there.

Here’s how to participate! Click the link below

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Join the Online Peace Movement NOV 4 ~ Blog 4 Peace! Post 4 Peace!

It seems that many of us are finding our voices at the same time this year – the RIGHT time.
I hope you will consider supporting our annual day of peace on November 4.

Canadian Peace globe from 2009

There is no better time to speak up than now.


Peace in the world is essential to sustaining LIFE on our planet, harmony in our homes, and positive progress in the world. 
We all inhabit this one ball of dirt. 

Let your voice count. 
Speak up!

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Love Peace? You Can Be a Peace Blogger Too

Oh, along about the year 2006, we began to blog for peace. People thought it would be wise to make a simple and bold statement: Dona nobis pacem (Grant us peace). So blog we did. 

Each year we have grown stronger and louder, more determined and sure. We have settled into a place that has become everyone’s place at the table. We come from 214 countries/territories. We speak many languages and dialects, but one single Latin phrase has unified us into one voice: 
Dona nobis pacem
Grant us peace

Join us? 

Choose a template and post it on your web places. We’re active everyday on many social media sites. Our annual blogblast4peace is always NOV 4th and we’d love to see you on that day; however, this movement is a daily online presence. Please contact Mimi Lenox is you have any questions or visit us on Facebook to get more information.  It’s simple. Choose a graphic, sign it if you wish, leave it blank it you wish, or place your own peace message on it. Then post!

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Living In The Present

Nobody spends their life in perfect perpetual peace; neither do we avoid struggle and discord. 

I am finding that peace in my life is not a final destination goal.
It is a daily walk of hopefulness in the expectation that all will be fine – not “in the end” but in the next breath I breathe. 

Image: Pixabay
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Dona Nobis Pacem ~ The Wind

Welcome to the 11th year of peace blogging. Please sign the Mr. Linky at the bottom of this post or leave a comment. If you tag me on Facebook, that’s even better! Most of you are doing that anyway. Thank you for blogging for peace today. Thank you for creating this powerful community of international peace activists! You encourage and empower me to do more. Now go inspire others to do the same. Love you all.


Remember Your MissionThere was this wind you see…

I heard it come round the north side of the biggest tree on Bloggingham Mountain, swirling and dancing and making a noise that I, in all my human years on earth, had never heard. Outside my bedroom window it spun through the pane like lightning, a fiercely potent spirit of nature capable of shattering glass and breaking bricks. Directly over my head it made a mighty swooshing sound and landed near the ceiling of my bedroom, in the center, over my heart lying supine beneath it wide-eyed and breathless, through my ears and inside the firings in my brain it surged and sang a familiar song.    Except for my awe-struck tears it was a waterless landing. It left no damage behind, this personal hurricane of mine, exiting as it rattled the joists with a deafening whirling sound and encircled the lamp lights like dancing wind ghosts full of secrets.I was shaken, deeply moved… but strangely not afraid.
This visitation happened a few weeks ago. The next morning I checked the weather reports. Had there been wind last night? No, said the forecaster. Had there been a storm last night? No, said the weatherman.Had there been a palpable unnatural phenomenon?Yes, said the girl in the unscathed bed.
Perspective.The presence of a mighty rushing wind in my bedroom is not such a foreign concept to me.  There are two previous occurrences in my life that could be described as oddly prophetic, if not downright supernatural, and both came in the form of a dream. Both were direct and specific answers to prayer. Both involved a tempest.  One was a shattering and violent tornado dream the night before I was about to majorly change the course of my life. I saw my family stumbling over the rubble of our home; we were still intact, just walking in different directions. The very next day I knew that I knew that I knew that THIS was the day I’d prayed to recognize and act upon. Peace. In the middle of chaos.


The second one was a dream of my father after he passed away.  After a long illness with much pain, I yearned to see him well and whole.  I prayed for peace. And so my dad appeared to me in a dream, during a gusty thunderstorm outside the same bedroom window in Bloggingham, in a glow of yellow light with hugs and kisses to let me know he was fine. My sister had the same dream the same night. I never worried about him again. Peace.
The third one has yet – until this night in 2017 – been told.I’m about to tell it to youYou will need the long and vivid history of my relationship with such things to understand the significance of a warm fall night that recently shook up and elevated my appreciation for the unexplainable – such as the sound of breathing living wind pounding on my bedroom window. Except this time, it was no dream. It was as real as flies on a summer watermelon or the smack of a bat on a lighted baseball field. It happened many many years ago. 


In the same room.On the same mountain.I’d gone to lie down for a nap on a Sunday afternoon. I was as exhausted as I’ve ever been, but couldn’t sleep. Quite suddenly, a paralyzing feeling came over my entire body. Like my body was weighted and worn. I tried to move my arms but I couldn’t. My legs would not budge, not even my toes, and it felt like every ounce of life was being swept from my body. I felt my heartbeat steadily decrease into slower and slower beats. My breathing began to slow down. I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t see! My world was pitch black and yet I was peaceful. There was no need to call out for help or in fear, because I wasn’t afraid.And I most definitely wasn’t alone.


“You can go now,” the Voice said. “I know you are tired. It’s alright if you want to come with Me. I’m here. You can come with me. It’s OK.”
No life. No breath. No movement. No heartbeat. Just a sound.  A swooshing sound.
That suddenly traveled up through my entire body and fully forced its way straight out of the top of my head, like a spiritual vacuum of sorts, leaving me void and still. That was the last physical sensation I felt as my mind pondered an answer to the inaudible gentle Voice hovering above my bed. The choice was clear. The intent was loving. I was torn. I want to go with you,” I told Him. “It would be so nice to let go and let you take me with you.”  I don’t know how long I stayed between my world and His, but it was as clear a picture of perfect peace I’ve ever had the privilege of experiencing. There was nothing but energy and life in that space between. 

How long would He wait? I wanted to stay in that place forever and yet….“I want to finish my work,” I told Him. “I want to go with You but I can’t. I am choosing to stay.” I felt a deep and warm covering of love and acceptance. I was saturated with peace. He was gone. I felt my breathing return and the blood start to flow. A foggy sensation in my head and then eyesight returned. I slowly began to move my hands and arms and feel my heart beating again. I fell into a deep sleep and was very tired for a couple of days. Physically, I was fine. Spiritually, I was never the same.
Why did I stay? What was my purpose?My purpose was to continue to serve what I was serving. To love. To be present. To continue to hold space for those who needed me. And to finish the race I began. I’ve never regretted the choice I made. I sometimes regret the way I spend my choice. 
So. Now you understand why I sat straight up and paid attention when that same swooshing sound entered Bloggingham’s walls once again a few weeks ago. My spirit knew that this was not a calling away but a calling to.  I felt energized and grateful. Deep in my Cherokee soul I knew it was a spirit wind, even if my pencil skirt analytical brain had to call the weather station to make sure.  

Native American symbol for wind

Native American belief holds that the Earth element of Air brings new life and transformation. My Cherokee roots tell me this is so.  The air element of wind brings spirit and words together as one. It was true for me the day I chose to stay.  We had a non-verbal conversation full of power and love. Those are the best kind!  Unconditional love and acceptance shaped my destiny. All I had to do was say YES.
In our world, we’re bombarded with carelessly uttered words each day that mean nothing at all. 

What could words full of glorious intent do instead? 


Destinies are carried on the wind you see.They come with transitions. Travail is hard. It is the most painful part of childbirth. But I’m here to tell you that there’s some healing happening in my life and some amazing answers to prayer that have spun on the web of the universe for decades. Happening right now.

Don’t discount prayers and intents you spoke eons ago. Their time will come.

We carry on you see. Sometimes we carry on for someone else. We may not realize this for years. I carry my Papa’s unfinished work.  We carry our people with us. We bring them into our own journeys. Our destinies are born the minute we take our first breath. They are not ours to disown. They cannot be discarded as if you suddenly changed your mind.  You know in the sinew and bones of your being what your destiny is.We carry our destinies inside us.

Our children and those we love carry theirs. Sometimes two destinies are entwined and overlap – one helping the other.  Most often you don’t realize how intermingled you are with someone else for many many years. Like our peace globes. And that old sack full of dusty marbles, a box full of plastic dolls and stories that fall from heaven in my ever-astounded lap, like silk on granite to my soul, to assist in my understanding of what I’m put on this earth to do. Sooner or later, you either accept them or lay them aside. And you might not have just one. There are seasons and times for different purposes you see. All equally important to your soul. But don’t expect someone else to pick up your destiny and run with it. It’s yours for a reason. 

I found that out when my eternal choice was made ever so clear. So listen! Even when you’re faced with the choice to stay or go, remember your mission. You have one! Have you finished your life’s work?  Have you finished today’s work? Has this relationship served its purpose? Or is there more to do? To say? Do your children need you? Does your community need you? Does the world need you?YES. A resounding YES.Your vision will take you far. Even when you can’t see. Even when your arms are lifeless and your heart can’t pump blood through your bedroom slippers. Even when you’re dying in the middle of a talk with the Almighty in your very own bedroom. Even then!
 We travel between two worlds all the time. Every day. Every choice we make. Every word we say. Every time we choose to love or choose to hate, we are walking out our destinies and learning how to make better choices. 
I believe …..We are destined to be whole and perfectly whole. Peaceful and perfectly peaceful. 

Steady and perfectly steady. Loving and perfectly loving.Not in some eternal striving for perfection that causes stress – but in letting go of the struggle. Of surrendering to the unknownOf choosing to step into what is ours and let it take us where it will.Sometimes the wind is a mighty rushing windThat’s the kind of wind I want in my life.Because I don’t have time to dance around with breezesand neither do you Remember your mission.

You might have a Wind to answer to. 
And on that day, when it comes, you’ll want to answer rightly. 
Get ready. There’s a mighty wind about to call your name.
You’re not finished yet.




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