Angel dream-catchers honor your Spirit Keepers as they guard and guide you in your journey through the Earth experience.  Gift your angels as they bless you.  Unfold the angel that is within you that you may be a blessing to All That Is.  The pearl in the center represents purity of thought, true wisdom. Rose quartz is the heart of compassion. Amethyst above and below the rose quartz shows the spiritual connection to Father Sky and Mother Earth.  Garnet is the red stone lowest among the feathers, which acknowledges that the capacity for deep, intense feeling is a gift of the Angels to the Children of the Feather.  Intense, focused feelings of love and compassion are recursive waveforms that add AND multiply their energies.  Malachite, the green stone, represents health, prosperity, and abundance. To Dance the Spiral and Sing the Songs of the Web of Life is the Dream of the Angels. 

You Are an Angel in Disguise: A Star in Embryo

by Allen Aslan Heart / White Eagle Soaring

It is said that years ago the Star Elder came to the Native people of the Southwest and taught some of their children of the beginning of the human race. He told them that the beings called "the children of the feather," usually called angels, had contributed to our creation and that we humans therefore bear within us the mark of the angels. Our natural heritage hidden deep within our being is the power of passion and compassion, the wisdom of gentleness and love. This power and wisdom can only be found within. No one can take you there and yet no one can take it away. There is no journey nor will pilgrimage find it. It awaits your discovery. Your natural heritage is to literally, be a star. You are a star in embryo. Your steady, gentle, loving light will shine forth to all. This is the song of the angels.

Like many people I've seen angels. Angels have taught me many lessons and brought me gifts of love and light. In quiet moments they've spoken without words and sung without sound. I've thought a lot about angels. For many years I had thought of angels as THEM, superior to who I AM - a category of existence separate from me, above me, beyond me. Then one day in 1991 I heard the sissagwaad, the soft wind of spirit that whispers in the heart. It was the nucleus of a poem about angels. Immediately, I sat down and scribbled as fast as I could, as though I were a secretary taking dictation. Then I went to my computer and in half an hour this was what appeared:

Angels of the Light

There was only light
and radiant waves of love.
We were the Light.
We were Love.
and we were One.
We were a magnificent,
glowing,
loving Sun
sending forth Our Light to All
so the Universe would know
Eternal Truth
held by the Wisdom of Love,
the Love that I AM
the Love that We Are,
Light from a glowing, loving Star.

The Power of our Love
blazed intense and bright.
Our Star could no more contain
the Love and Light,
and We were Many.
We were magnificent,
glowing,
loving Angels
carrying forth to All, Our Star
so the Universe would know
Eternal Wisdom
embraced by the Truth of Love,
the Love that I AM,
the Love that We Are,
Light from a glowing, loving Star.

In the depth of Love We came
to save this world from inner death,
to transmute matter into light,
to lift its low vibration
beyond the dark of night
and spare this icy, denser realm
its plunging, hopeless flight.

In giving so much Light and Love
we've nearly all forgot
our magnificent, glowing, starry past
believing what we're not.
And now we must remember
the Truth of Who We Are -
Angels Beings Co-creating,
Sons and Daughters of a Star.
We are magnificent,
glowing,
loving Children
of a nearly forgotten Sun
whose Light goes forth to brighten All
so the world would know it's One,
enfolded by the Power of Love,
the Love that I AM,
the Love that We Are,
Light from a glowing, loving Star.

                                                                       allen aslan heart

Perhaps angels are not "other than?" Maybe creating categories and hierarchies is the lingering illusion from a mechanistic and scientific world-view that belittles us and hides our True Self. We have forgotten Who we really are. Even our spiritual reality is shaped by forces that narrow our vision, and we experience life unconscious of the self-imposed limitation. Must angels always have wings? Do they shine with celestial light? Can they only be found in numinous events outside the "natural" world? Can there be "super-natural" existence in a UNIverse, the All that Is ONE? In the Oneness, isn't there a seamless wonder of Being? Are angels and miracles natural and commonplace and we only need to know how to look, to understand with our heart as well as our mind?

Then I lived the answer to my questions during a winter holiday in Mazatlan, Mexico. It was warm, friendly, and enchanting, an exciting change of pace from a biting cold spell in Minnesota. All day and all night the Pacific Ocean pounded on the Mexican coast in front of our hotel. Often the sounds of the busy street were lost in the sound of the crashing surf. Paseo Olas Altas was named for the high waves.

In the mid-afternoon of our second day in Mazatlan, my companions and I decided to go to the small beach one block away instead of traveling two miles to the beaches of the Gold Zone, the tourist area. After towels had established our territory, Sue settled in to read, Teri to watch her little children, Mary, Steve, Jesse, and Linda plunged into the surf, and I searched the nearby rocks for interesting forms of life. But my four surf-riding friends seemed to be having so much fun that I decided to venture closer to the heaving waves. The undertow was deceptive, making it seem as though we were in shallow water and then rising above our heads. Teri was worried about everyone's safety, shouting for her mother to come back nearer to the shore. Her concern signaled caution, so I made certain that my feet could hold me against the pull of the ocean.

Then Jesse appeared, pushing Linda toward me, asking me to help get her back to shore. She seemed frightened. I moved forward three steps...and I was swept off my feet. As I tried to swim toward shore I seemed to be getting farther away. Steve and Jesse were trying to help their mother toward shore. Soon I seemed to be all alone. I tried to swim, but the surf would rise quickly and surprise my lungs with salty

 water instead of air. I cried for help but I could see no response on the beach. The world seemed indifferent to my plight. "Help me!" I shouted. "I can't do this anymore!" My arms felt heavy and almost useless. For a moment I considered just letting go. But the saltwater stung my lungs. "Help me!" Soon I could only whisper, "Help me!"

Sometimes the beach would disappear only to appear again as I rose on yet another swell, each time farther from safety. Even if, by some miracle, the waves would cease pummeling me and the sea stop pulling me farther from shore, I would not have had enough strength to get back to safety by myself. I needed help. I could only think a cry for help. (Help)

Suddenly a man was at my side pushing a surfboard toward me. I grasped the board with grateful relief and held on with all the strength I could muster. Other men came to rescue me - one in the front, another behind, and another towing. I couldn't put my head down on the board to rest yet. The waves continued to break over us as we struggled toward shore. Whatever energy I had left I used to help kick toward shore. I saw Mary being towed toward shore on another surfboard. I had thought that she was already safe.

Finally, as I rode the board into ankle deep water, I saw Mary lying motionless on the sand. Stumbling weakly onto the beach beside her, I saw her move. She was alive. I collapsed onto the sand, head toward the sea, to let the sea water drain from my lungs. Never had sand felt so good on my face! All over the beach people were ministering to the five of us. Steve, Jesse, and Linda had made it to safety on the rocks only to be seriously injured by the spines of sea urchins. They were taken to the nearby military hospital for emergency care.

After recovering enough strength to walk I began to wobble back to my hotel, helped by a man who identified himself as Ed. I asked him to get the names of the people who had helped us so I could thank them later. Later, when I asked Ed about the near disaster he told me that the previous year a 14-year old girl had drowned in the same area. And he told me that there had been an off-duty lifeguard from another city visiting the beach that day.

"What were their names?" I asked.

"I wrote their names down for you," he replied, handing me the folded note paper.

I unfolded the paper and read their names...Raphael...and Gabriel.