This one’s late, but I’ve been up to my ears in Pluto, and some other planets.
Heart of the Dove is in Las Cruces, NM. It’s only about 30 miles or so up the road from El Paso. While I was assured that it was Interstate 10 we were on, it sure felt like it was a northbound highway. Don’t argue with women, it just doesn’t work. Even if I was right.
I had a tremendous good time at HoD, in Cruces. It was an invigorating crowd. Different, way different readings than what I’m used to you. A couple of patterns did emerge, and one was the “New Moon” observation, the sun sign and the moon sign being the same.
Then there was the Pisces element. Just about every chart had planets at a few degrees of Pisces, right under the influence of that New Moon and the Uranus effect, and what all else was there.
I never had a chance to sort through the voluminous material I’d received about Heart of the Dove. Rather, I just jumped right on in. The lecture was a small crowd, but I was determined to put forth a good show. I felt good about it, despite it occurring when the moon was at its darkest.
The deal was it’s just another unassuming little frame structure, not far from a hot dog stand, sort of in the middle of Las Cruces, apparently, the second largest town in New Mexico, and the principle source of income is New Mexico State University. No details given.
I had a lot more details, and I was planning on working up a few specific points, but what it amounts to, I’m 1) too tired, and 2) it was just an amazing place. Good energy. Folks with their hearts in the right place, or, at the very least, trying really hard to do the right thing. I can’t recall when I felt that much positive energy in one spot. Like all the Hallmark, New Age crap about “vortex” energies. Only at Heart of the Dove? It was real.
It’s also considered a ministry, and for once, only one of maybe three or four times in my life, I was in real church that was doing what churches are supposed to do. A sense of community. A sense of place, a sense of belonging. Amazing.
I do think, after the service on Sunday, when my only comment for the nominal “pastor,” all I cold say? “You rock!”
Ain’t got much higher praise than that.
So it’s Fat Tuesday, and I’m supposed to work at some club near Austin’s 6th Street. Oh, that’s different.
