1 result for (heading:"esp class session januari 13 1970" AND stemmed:florenc)
7/30 (23%)
garden
plants
joy
flower
Florence
[... 6 paragraphs ...]
I told you once (to Florence)—and I tell you all—in your quiet moments to say “Who am I?” And listen—listen then. Do not answer yourself. But listen. And the answers will come to you. And this is nourishment. You cut yourselves off from such nourishment—as if a flower said, “I will not accept the rain because I do not understand it—and, intellectually I do not know what makes it rain and, therefore, I will not accept the rain.” Or, “I do not know what the sun is; therefore, I will not accept its rays.” And so the flower would be destroyed in its form.
(Florence commented that she would hate to be dependent upon somebody watering her as a flower. Seth interjected the following.)
[... 2 paragraphs ...]
Now, again, no embarrassment is meant to our Lady of Florence. For she speaks also for the hidden fears within each of you—and she makes vocal thoughts that have been in each of your minds at various times. She brings them to the surface where we can meet them and deal with them.
[... 7 paragraphs ...]
Now. It is hard for me to tell you that you are a merry rose in a happy garden (to Florence. Laughter from the class.) You only see the thorns. It is hard for me to remind you of the seriousness—and yet of the joy of your existence. And that is why I told our friend that his humor could be his salvation. A child discovers many truths in play and so can you—if you allow yourselves the freedom of spontaneous mental and psychic play. Also because of the mechanics involved, I cannot dance like your Tiny Tim, “through the tulips.” (Laughter from the class.) But I do beseech each of you to look within yourselves for that joy that is your own—and to accept it. It is not that the joy is not present, but that you refuse to acknowledge it. Now. I admit that I sound old and ponderous—and yet, I would go tip-toeing through the tulips—and not feel a loss of dignity—nor worry about who saw me.
The intellect was meant to be an aid—you are using your intellect as a dictator (to Florence)—and you are allowing this dictator to send your intuitional self into exile. And this you must not do.
[... 6 paragraphs ...]
And it sings now through each of you as it sings through me, and as it sings through the plants that “belong” to our Lady of Florence.
[... 1 paragraph ...]
(Present January 13, 1970: Sue, Ned, Rose, Sally [and guest], Rachel, Florence, Vera, Theodore, and Brad, and Lydia.)
