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    Dancing with the Angels: My Search for the Sacred
    Dancing with the Angels: My Search for the Sacred
    Dancing with the Angels: My Search for the Sacred
    Ebook103 pages1 hour

    Dancing with the Angels: My Search for the Sacred

    By Owl Woman

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    About this ebook

    In DANCING WITH THE ANGELS Owl Woman speaks candidly and convincingly about her random encounters with the score of Entities who have made themselves felt and seen in her everyday surroundings.

    She tells us, The Angels are everywhere. They come when we least expect them but most need them.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateDec 11, 2012
    ISBN9781475964868
    Dancing with the Angels: My Search for the Sacred
    Author

    Owl Woman

    Shaman,Earth Keeper and Wisdom Carrier Owl Woman lives at the edge of a Nature Preserve in Northwest Ohio. There she can hear the coyotes and barred owls by night and watch the wild turkeys and deer cross during daylight. At 78, she continues her love affair with the Mother Earth.

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      Book preview

      Dancing with the Angels - Owl Woman

      Copyright © 2012 by Owl Woman.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

      iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

      iUniverse

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.iuniverse.com

      1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-6485-1 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4759-6486-8 (ebk)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012922733

      iUniverse rev. date: 12/04/2012

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE The Kinfolk

      CHAPTER TWO The Mysteries

      CHAPTER THREE The Primitives

      CHAPTER FOUR The Entities

      CHAPTER FIVE 2012 The Mayans

      CHAPTER SIX Secret Societies

      CHAPTER SEVEN Giving Up Things (And Gaining Everything!)

      CHAPTER EIGHT Guardians, Guides and Gate Keepers

      CHAPTER NINE As a Man Dreameth

      CHAPTER TEN Rising on the Planes

      This book is dedicated to all those who feel somehow out of step, different, more sensitive or perhaps more aware than the rest. Those who see faeries and dream of Dancing with the Angels. May you always have the courage to march to a different drummer.

      A huge thank you to my daughter Sondra and my husband Frank for their able assistance with this book.

      INTRODUCTION

      Angels at my Bedside

      They float in on the near darkness

      and pale blue moon shine

      They come when you most need them

      but least expect them

      Their touch is only the weight of a feather

      but it changes everything

      Their beings are luminous

      like the soft glow of a burning out candle

      Their numbers are legion

      They have been on duty since the dawn of time

      and they shall stay after the end of days

      They are the Elohim, the divine Feminine

      They watch over the cribs of Infants

      They visit us

      CHAPTER ONE

      The Kinfolk

      What school child hasn’t stared up into the star-filled sky and wondered to himself, Is this where I came from? Or what kid hasn’t asked his parents Mom, Dad, who did I come from? Meaning, of course, who were my people? Where did they come from, those ancestors of long ago? If you were a curious or precocious kid like myself, you could never get enough of those family stories. They are pure gold to me now, as I turn my memories into books.

      My mother’s people were great storytellers and dream Keepers, cordoned off as they were in a small Appalachian valley, shut in by the surrounding mountains. Life was simple there. Some of the mountain folk never wandered further afield more than fifty miles in their entire lifetimes.

      But something else was afoot! My people were what their English forebearers deemed Fey. They had a Sight as their neighbors would say.

      My own grandma, Tina Bell, born blind in one eye with a large Port-wine birthmark covering part of one cheek, was especially gifted! She saw more with one eye than most folks will ever see with two. She saw into people, and through their lies and foibles and phoniness.

      The end of the 18th century found Grandpa Burt cutting virgin forests along the New River, so that the new badly needed roads could be opened up.

      Meanwhile Tina Bell was raising their brood of six kids, keeping chickens and a milk-cow, besides keeping up her vegetable gardens. The women in my family were said to be cunning, meaning clever, resourceful and independent. Tina Bell slept with a gun under her pillow when Burt Smith was away at his logging camp, but she had a softer, endearing side that I remember oh, so well. It seemed like yesterday when she would take my little brother on her knee and sing a few verses of can she bake a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy. Her time with me was even more precious. She would walk me through her sun-filled flower garden singing another ditty. Good morning Mary Sunshine, why did you wake so soon? You chased away the little stars and shined away the moon. Gold fish, Koi, would be splashing in the water-lily pond as we circle through the flower beds. Soon her song would shift to Mary, Mary quite contrary—how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.

      These all-too brief years would form the beginning of my life-long love affair with the nature world.

      As with so many other families, the great depression would force my parents to move north to the flatlands and the harsh realities of rural farm-life. My other grandmother had been a pretty Welsh girl who had married a German farmer. I mention this because it leads to an uncanny family secret: Each of my grandfathers had been born to Native American mothers. Learning of this coincidence from my parents at a young age, somehow gave me a deeper sense of belonging to the Earth. It helped me explain a small piece of the old who am I /where did I come from question, that most of us will eventually wrestle with; something past claiming our DNA or our genetics. There wasn’t much Tom-Foolery on the farm. Mornings, very early—about 4:30 AM, found grandpa and my dad trudging off to the barn to do chores. Meanwhile the women-folk, grandma and my mom would be laying out the first of the three bodacious spreads of the day.

      Typically, breakfast would consist of eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy, plum preserves and potatoes fried in lard. It seemed to this five year old that as one meal was over, the next one was being prepared on the antique wood burning stove.

      My Welsh grandma was a diminutive and energetic woman; the first to rise in the morning and the last to come to bed at night. I never remember seeing her smile, but I do remember her daily prayers to "Save

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