Light flashes brightly, full.
There is a fullness. Even as light seems utterly transparent; there is a quality of solidness.
Snow sparkling and shimmering creates transcendence and illuminations. Vibrations abound and holy womin remain ever-present as I read their life stories.

I read “history is told by the winners”. This implies there is only a slight portion of everything that occurred at one (any) particular given “time”, in time.

The bluebird asks for water and drinks from the small Japanese saucer provided. Allowed to be picked up, we walk to the door. Giving bluey a lift from open palms, he flies ten to twenty feet, swoops around, and returns into my hands still open. Nestled.
I hear him internally, “no need to leave, we’re together on this journey. Take me with. Being free to leave I’m happy to stay.”

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