Case Note No. 10; July 19, 2021
Hello again. It’s me, Ms. AAngyl. Can you feel it in the air? The Earth and many of its inhabitants are shifting and changing in subtle, magical ways. For others, such as in areas presently experiencing earthquakes and floods, change is even more apparent. But take heart. Nothing lasts forever, and a New Golden Age for this world is just around the corner. New and improved Mother Earth is in the process of being birthed. So I say, “Out with the old and in with the New!” because a harmonious, utopic reality lies just ahead. One in which hearts direct every choice made by minds and bodies. A time and a place where peace and joy are the norm, and everything in creation exists for the common good. Of course, of course, we still have a few kerfuffles to get through before it’s here. But working together, it’s nothing we can’t handle. Or, if double negatives aren’t your cup of tea, let us say, with enthusiasm, “We’ve got this!”
Regarding the ongoing grand shift in consciousness to a heart-based reality, some locations on Earth are a bit more advanced than others, when it comes to clearing the way for the New Earth. Cape Breton Island, in Nova Scotia, Canada, is certainly one of the forerunner destinations. This is a maritime land where the veil of amnesia is very thin, making it easier for souls to live from their hearts with all twelve chakras freely spinning, joyfully expressing their Creator/God-given natural talents and gifts. Usually they do so with a big grin on their faces. Children grow up, each one understood, accepted, appreciated, and cared for in loving, tight-knit communities, steeped in tradition, and immersed in much-celebrated local culture, music, dance, and art. In multi-generational families, nurtured by parents, grandparents, friends and friends-of-friends. And surrounded by lots of cousins to play with!
The people are wise there, always keeping an eye out for the future, ever open to new possibilities, and plans for innovative, positive community growth. It’s the kind of place where a person can serve as premier of the province, then move on to create a new culture-based university in a former convent. But is appreciated most of all for specific fiddling and step-dancing abilities LOL! A place where friendly boy/girl-next-door type guys and dolls who have toured the world as Celtic musicians often sing, play fiddle, piano, guitar and mandolin at local events, and step dance too. Sometimes while they are playing their instruments, and always with joy. And manage ice cream stands, while planning international music festivals, and running impromptu local ceilidh crawls in their spare time. An island where engineers leave their former jobs to raise young families and pursue full-time employment as teachers of music and Gaelic language. Where world-class composers live in villages by brooks, writing symphonies to the trees, and nearby opera singers from America rest their laurels, baking bread, running bed-and-breakfasts, and volunteering to lead amateur choirs, while working their day jobs at the local hardware store. Where retirees can feel young again, their flashy wheels turning heads as they travel the country roads on senior-friendly motorcycles, some with sidecars. It’s that kind of place. In fact, it’s a lot like Atlantis in the good old days of its last Golden Age, when everybody knew their purpose in life, and a great time was had by all.
Come to think of it, Cape Breton, Nova Scotia reminds me a lot of my first home on Planet Earth, this go-around. I grew up Ocala, Florida, another place where the veil is thin. Like Cape Breton, it is a location where many creative dreams are born and nurtured, especially for horses and horse people. Nineteen years ago, when I was a young girl, I was raised in a big family there, surrounded by lots of relatives. I spent my fillyhood with three friends of the same age who were purebred Arabian horses, including a pretty grey who was my first cousin of sorts. (We shared the same grandfather on the Arabian side of the family.) In those blissful days, the sky was the limit for us, and our skies were usually clear blue and sunny. Each of us had big dreams. We were cherished children, all different, but each born and raised for greatness. We had the bloodlines to pursue any number of different equestrian disciplines, and most horses I knew ended up in athletic careers (in performance, fine harness, jumping, racing, etc.).
As carefree kids, while we frolicked in the pasture watching the older horses in training, my buddies and I often talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I was always a bit different from the others, in that I was a Half Arab, i.e., a National Show Horse with an Arabian mother, and an American Saddlebred father who was a champion in fine harness. Unlike the personable, in-your-face Arabians, I was always a bit shy, more serious and reserved than my friends (a trait that probably came from my father's side, as many Saddlebreds were famous war horses). It was fun to grow up in the company of the light-hearted Arabians, but it was often difficult for me to get a word in edgewise!
I was trained in dressage, and in my early years I went on to win a few competitions in that discipline, in Florida and Georgia. Then, like my Saddlebred father and my Arabian grandfather before me, I arranged to retire early, to a life of observation and quiet contemplation. That’s because in truth, I always wanted to be a writer. And in order for that to happen, I had to patiently wait for the right timing in my life. By using the sensitive, intuitive side of my personality, I knew that I could immediately recognize the right person to help me with my dreams, when she finally came along. And that’s how and why I decided to become Margaret’s therapy horse, after she showed up in my world in Sarasota back in the fall of 2016, where I was giving riding lessons at Karin's farm.
Anyway, that's all water under the Rainbow Bridge now. My dream came true and I’m still livin’ it, as they say, watching with great interest from above, and providing my commentary as things continue to unfold according to the ascension plan for Planet Earth. It’s summertime in Cape Breton, that glorious time of year when the wild roses are in bloom, and freshly mowed hay is rolled into big rolls, or white marshmallows, that dot the fields. Mmm, mmm, mmm... I can just taste that first-cut hay, and delicious rose hips now!
And things are getting even better! As more and more humans get their shots, Dr. Strang and the trusting citizens he guides are beginning to feel comfortable going back to outdoor gatherings. Just in time for the great weather, things are beginning to open up on the social scene, and many happy tourists are arriving. For the first time in ages, there was live music again this past Saturday in the bridge village of Mabou, and the famous Red Shoe Pub is open. Yippee!! At long last, the green light has been given to resume outdoor singing, step dancing, fiddling, and piano playing in front of live audiences! So it is beginning to feel like normal again, back to our regularly-scheduled Heaven on Earth.
Finally, just a little heads-up, if you are into the horses... I hear tell that the powers-that-be at Inverness Raceway are considering a petition from a friend of mine, to allow bay unicorns to enter the harness races that are held there for Standardbred pacers, up to 14 years of age. I am told that the proposal has met with initial approval. All that remains is for the officials to decide how they will set the standards for handicaps, given the differences in drag coefficients created by the varying horn lengths of the competitors. Wheee!! I'm sure they'll sort it out soon, and my kind will be away at the races!! And of course we will take turns letting each other win.