The Rose That Waits for Water Followed by a Dream.
The Rose That Waits for Water
A Reflection on the Rose of Jericho and the Mystery of Sacred Timing
A comment on one of my recent posts quietly yet wholly captivated me.
It spoke of a plant I had only heard of in passing—the Rose of Jericho, also known as the Hand of Fatima. As I read the description, something stirred in me—not just fascination but recognition—a quiet, ancient bell ringing somewhere beneath the surface.
The Rose of Jericho is a plant that appears lifeless—curled in on itself, dry, grey, forgotten. And yet, it does not die. It waits. It preserves its essence. It pauses time within its cells until water returns. And when it does, the rose unfurls. It opens slowly, deliberately, and offers forth the seeds it has guarded so faithfully.
I became enthralled.
Not just with the plant itself but with what it represents. The wisdom of dormancy. The divine intelligence of sacred timing. The refusal to bloom under false light.
This is not a flower that performs. This is a flower that remembers. It teaches us that stillness is not death. That withholding is not a weakness. That when the true water comes—the living water, the soul water—we will know. And we will rise.
Especially now, in this week of Easter, the week of resurrection, this symbolism is not lost on me. Religious or not, this week frequently speaks of death and life, endings and beginnings, offerings and returns.
This week, my book finally reached its final edits. It has now fully left my hands and is on its way to the next stage of development—interior design.
After years of holding, crafting, and consecrating, it is no longer mine alone.
And then, in the following space, I received this comment left under my YouTube video yesterday.
“A sacred mirror, emerging through the sacred rhythm of time.”
Not a coincidence - a whisper from the divine.
It spoke deeply to me because I realise now that I have been the Rose of Jericho all these years—holding my seeds, preserving the frequency, waiting for the drop of living water.
And now, I am unfurling. Slowly. Steadily. Faithfully.
To the one who left that message: thank you. You opened a gate within me.
A sacred mirror and the divinely holy timing.
It spoke deeply to me because I now realise that I, too, have been the Rose of Jericho all these years—holding my seeds, preserving the frequency, waiting for the drop of living water.
And now, I am unfurling. Slowly. Steadily. Faithfully.
That comment was a message sent through Messenger from the Divine—a beautiful silver telepathic frequency arriving from across the world, motivated by something I said in a video.
Everything is connected.
Energy is alive.
And when you tune to the frequency, there is no separation.
With Gratitude
Delahrose -
Next, I fell asleep and had a dream-
“Through the Mud, to the Threshold”
A Dream Transmission
Last night I was shown a dream. Libra full moon 13th -14th April 2025
Trucks moved in procession around a corner, a roundabout, and relentlessly. They cut across the footpath in front of someone’s house, wheels carving straight through private earth like it was nothing. At first, it all seemed fine. Orderly, even.
But then came the rain.
And with the rain, the truth:
deep gouges through the lawn,
mud torn from the bones of the land.
I tried to walk, but the ground had become wild and churned into confusion. I jumped over puddles and through wreckage, seeking a place that felt clean and untouched.
I climbed up to the balcony of a great house.
And there I saw them.
Yellow roses and lemons,
broken and strewn across the ground,
as if a sacred ceremony had been interrupted.
Everywhere I looked: sweetness scattered, light bruised but not lost.
It felt like something had tried to harvest joy too soon.
The storm had jolted loose like blessings meant to ripen on the vine.
And then— just before I woke— I saw fruit baskets.
Placed gently at the gates of houses.
Gifts. Offerings. Signs of soul abundance waiting at the threshold.
They hadn’t been taken. They were still there.
Message From My Soul - My Star Kin
Sometimes the machinery of the world rolls through what is sacred. Sometimes it takes rain—emotion, intuition, truth—to see what’s been disturbed. But even when joy is scattered and the ground is messy and uncertain, the gifts still await us.
There are baskets at your gate.
What has been offered is still yours to receive.
Keep walking. Find the path. Reclaim the fruit.
Everything is connected. Energy is alive. And when you tune to the frequency, there is no separation.”
A Quote comes to mind-
“There are two struggles: an Inner-world struggle and an Outer-world struggle. You must make an intentional contact between these two worlds; then you can crystallise data for the Third World, the World of the Soul.”
- Gurdjieff
That triadic structure he speaks of is so aligned with my own work.
• The Inner-world struggle: the unseen alchemy, the Soul’s private terrain of wounds, revelations, memory, and becoming.
• The Outer-world struggle: the noise, the machinery, the systems that interfere, distract, and attempt to define.
• And then—the Third World: the world of the Soul. It is not merely a synthesis but a higher octave born when the inner and outer are consciously brought into communion.
This is exactly what I am doing when I write my transmissions, interpret dreams, and hold frequency in public spaces—I am creating crystallised data from the fusion of inner truth and outer resonance. This is soul-world material.
With Grace and Infinite Gratitude
Delahrose
