Monday, January 28, 2008
Resurrection
Once beset by a longing so passionate and fierce I almost consumed my being to ease the ache of it….. Seeking to obliterate the pain that defined the longing, like fighting fire with fire, I desperately tore at myself before I surrendered. The Warrior I am … the Lover I am … heart and mind, divided… moved from battleground to battleground trying to resolve the differences… one by force, one by flow, equal in strength. It was not until one was so deeply wounded that the other began to understand. The instant that understanding and that recognition dawned, the battlegrounds transformed….. the lightness of this transformation illuminated a tender seed, fragile, but viable. For all the while heart and mind bickered and moaned, while one part of me tore at another, the spirit seed of longing managed to stay alive within me. Then last Summer, during a Full Moon eclipse, with the service of two loving beings I laid upon a desert hilltop and birthed that spirit seed into ritual space. The sprit seed within me now lives as a tree ripe with fruit…. my labor fulfilled, I count the blessings of those whom I love and they who love me, as evidence that the peace tree lives in this realm too.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
20 years in training. Learning to craft a life out of what I had both within my being and reach…….
It stuck me as fanciful the other day when I related to another PH that I was able to spin rope from plant fiber and that I wanted to look into playing with the desert devas so they could teach me about the plant life in the desert. How wonderful it is to be able share the pleasure of getting to know the native plants of your landscape with a community of like-minded spirits.
It pleases me to know I can be of value to kindred souls, for in tending to both their needs and the needs of my Sister, Gaia I am living the life of a Crone in service to She who formed us. For me, there is no worthier life, nor is there anything more worth doing than sharing what you love to do with those you love.
I am gifted in so many ways.
Service is an expression of love. It is how we let LOVE know that we cherish the gift that it is.
Service begins with the Self, the truth of who we each are at our core, our own Powerful source. I’ve recently begun a new pattern of ritualized behavior… actively overwriting the programs installed by external influences. Influences that caused me to overeat the foods that did me the least good and an internal urge to take on way more than I needed to take on in terms of physical, mental and emotion behaviors that overtaxed body, mind and soul; all manifestations of a lack of self-respect.
This service to Self is beneficial on many levels. In feeding myself wholesome and natural foods I send a powerful message to the cells of my body. As a result, I feel better physically and subsequently I am mentally at peace and emotionally centered. In directing this Self love on the lower self, I am instilling in the cells of creation the energy of LOVE.
In the ritualized salt baths I have begun taking I am sending a powerful message that I cherish my body enough to clear it of the lower vibrations I can absorb by being in the world of little ‘h’ human nature.
It stuck me as fanciful the other day when I related to another PH that I was able to spin rope from plant fiber and that I wanted to look into playing with the desert devas so they could teach me about the plant life in the desert. How wonderful it is to be able share the pleasure of getting to know the native plants of your landscape with a community of like-minded spirits.
It pleases me to know I can be of value to kindred souls, for in tending to both their needs and the needs of my Sister, Gaia I am living the life of a Crone in service to She who formed us. For me, there is no worthier life, nor is there anything more worth doing than sharing what you love to do with those you love.
I am gifted in so many ways.
Service is an expression of love. It is how we let LOVE know that we cherish the gift that it is.
Service begins with the Self, the truth of who we each are at our core, our own Powerful source. I’ve recently begun a new pattern of ritualized behavior… actively overwriting the programs installed by external influences. Influences that caused me to overeat the foods that did me the least good and an internal urge to take on way more than I needed to take on in terms of physical, mental and emotion behaviors that overtaxed body, mind and soul; all manifestations of a lack of self-respect.
This service to Self is beneficial on many levels. In feeding myself wholesome and natural foods I send a powerful message to the cells of my body. As a result, I feel better physically and subsequently I am mentally at peace and emotionally centered. In directing this Self love on the lower self, I am instilling in the cells of creation the energy of LOVE.
In the ritualized salt baths I have begun taking I am sending a powerful message that I cherish my body enough to clear it of the lower vibrations I can absorb by being in the world of little ‘h’ human nature.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
For the love of PH8
Reader advisement: As a dutiful child of Chaos I often mix metaphors, blur lines of demarcation and bend rules when it serves the flow. Sky
There was a time when hope was just a word and the thought of joy, a torment. Finding my way back to a centered Self, the Powerful Human within, has rewarded me by returning the rose-colored glasses that I was told to remove in my early teens. Being a bit of a walking paradox from the get-go, the rebellious teen in me obeyed a father who could not deal with the imaginative flights of fancy that filled much of my time. I loved him as I loved life, but it was usually my experience that at some point or another, on any given day, he would vehemently demand that I get my head out of the clouds, plant my feet on the ground and, “for Christ’s sake, take off the damn rose-colored glasses”. He believed this to be in my best interests because the world was neither “fair” nor “ideal” and to be sure, I’m certain his world wasn’t. However, the one I recalled with every fiber of my being told me that life is indeed fair and ideal. My child-like self knew, and still knows, that life is love and love is both fair and ideal.
In my view, balanced and loving intent shape the world, but my father’s generation didn’t believe they had a choice in the matter. They had seen much of the shittiest intent of mankind, as did my generation, the “hippies”. The difference is, I’m certain, a naturally occurring phenomenon, one as steadying the cycle of Nature. It is Nature’s nature to be cyclic and even as a wild, immature and rebellious teen, I knew this to be true.
Yet, my father loved me, although for years I would deny that idea, believing myself an unworthy recipient of such emotion. Like many in his time, my father didn’t have the means of expressing his love in any other manner so, in retrospect, I really do believe that he did think he had my best interests at heart. He was fond of telling me “the road to hell is paved with good intention” however, I don’t buy into the concept of hell, so it held little weight with me. His methods were skewed, but his heart was in the right place, so after a time I was able to find forgiveness…. for both of us. It was hidden behind the brick wall that had been built between us; some bricks had been his, some mine.
As a child, I had pretty much lived up to the name I had chosen for myself… Joyce was joyous most of the time. But taking off those metaphorical rose-colored glasses began a thirty-five year bout with depression, issues of self-worth, self-loathing and eventually an almost complete loss of hope. Journeying through what others deemed “reality” charted the course through a bumpy life journey that has eventually taken me ‘home’. Along the way I learned that I have no one to blame but myself and as a result, I am so done with that behavior.
Musings….
There were days in the beginning of the journey when I would lie on my bed and cry. When asked why I was crying, I could only respond that I wanted to go “home”… home to that elusive place where I instinctively knew that love did not hurt. Those episodes established the parameters that would later define me as a “dust mote circling around the fuzz-balls who hang out on the fringe of life”. Always the odd one in a cluster of misfits, it’s where I feel most comfortable. I can join in, but having accepted the idea that our basic commonality is our uniqueness, I don’t want to become a copy of others. I am complete within myself. In that lesson I found I don’t need to sit and cry for ‘home’ any longer, gone are the days of feeling sorry for myself. I cried a river of tears and journeyed to the darkest part of the ocean where I once again found my voice. How’d I get from there to here? By refusing to give in to the fear, by facing the pain and by embracing my rage. I faced the Dark Goddess, donned Her essence as my own and claimed the pain as a tool for change.
Sekhmet
The world’s sorrow, carried with joy, was lifted
The Earth’s sadness, humbly felt, was eased
The connection to creation, always there, though sometimes lost
Is once more recalled
Sekhmet beckoned
Awaiting the precise moment, knowing I was ready
She emerged
With Her offering, I let go of all I had held
The strength of desires, a fierce calling
The lure of vices, a power welling up
A yielding to Her, timidly undertaken, not wanting to burden
Is a blessing to my soul
And so my dance within the darkness was the illumination I sought, the light to guide me home.
I consider myself an artist and, for me, an artful life is about spiritual alchemy… the transmutation of base emotions to pure gold. The elevation of one’s emotions from the whining of the inner brat to the reclamation of the divine joy is the truth of a unified self and the alchemical reaction to profound spiritual pain. I still cry, weary of the pain… but it is the pain of others that elicits that response now. I weep for the world, for the pain others need a break from carrying. See, when I took the glasses off and removed my head from the clouds I ran to the safety of nature and planted my feet in the soil of this realm. The scent of moss and dark earth became the comforts that eased the shock of my transition and I became one with the flesh of this world. In so doing, I connected myself to the element that is closest to the core of who I am as a human… the element that is the building block of all humans.
Gaia, my sister, the living earth became my anchor to joy. However, the cruelty of “human nature” chipped away at the anchor until all that remained was a shred of hope, the one I clung to fiercely. The “shred of hope” was the solace and all I needed to do was to listen for the voice of spirit and transcribe that voice into this world. That, at least, provided a purpose to my stay here in this dense realm. Now I shed more tears of JOY & GRATITUDE and find myself so lovingly blest.
So my father's admonishment to plant my feet on the ground was a boon to finding my way home again... and although the moments leading here can be heavy, I found that with my feet firmly planted, I could more easily reach for the sky!!!
There was a time when hope was just a word and the thought of joy, a torment. Finding my way back to a centered Self, the Powerful Human within, has rewarded me by returning the rose-colored glasses that I was told to remove in my early teens. Being a bit of a walking paradox from the get-go, the rebellious teen in me obeyed a father who could not deal with the imaginative flights of fancy that filled much of my time. I loved him as I loved life, but it was usually my experience that at some point or another, on any given day, he would vehemently demand that I get my head out of the clouds, plant my feet on the ground and, “for Christ’s sake, take off the damn rose-colored glasses”. He believed this to be in my best interests because the world was neither “fair” nor “ideal” and to be sure, I’m certain his world wasn’t. However, the one I recalled with every fiber of my being told me that life is indeed fair and ideal. My child-like self knew, and still knows, that life is love and love is both fair and ideal.
In my view, balanced and loving intent shape the world, but my father’s generation didn’t believe they had a choice in the matter. They had seen much of the shittiest intent of mankind, as did my generation, the “hippies”. The difference is, I’m certain, a naturally occurring phenomenon, one as steadying the cycle of Nature. It is Nature’s nature to be cyclic and even as a wild, immature and rebellious teen, I knew this to be true.
Yet, my father loved me, although for years I would deny that idea, believing myself an unworthy recipient of such emotion. Like many in his time, my father didn’t have the means of expressing his love in any other manner so, in retrospect, I really do believe that he did think he had my best interests at heart. He was fond of telling me “the road to hell is paved with good intention” however, I don’t buy into the concept of hell, so it held little weight with me. His methods were skewed, but his heart was in the right place, so after a time I was able to find forgiveness…. for both of us. It was hidden behind the brick wall that had been built between us; some bricks had been his, some mine.
As a child, I had pretty much lived up to the name I had chosen for myself… Joyce was joyous most of the time. But taking off those metaphorical rose-colored glasses began a thirty-five year bout with depression, issues of self-worth, self-loathing and eventually an almost complete loss of hope. Journeying through what others deemed “reality” charted the course through a bumpy life journey that has eventually taken me ‘home’. Along the way I learned that I have no one to blame but myself and as a result, I am so done with that behavior.
Musings….
There were days in the beginning of the journey when I would lie on my bed and cry. When asked why I was crying, I could only respond that I wanted to go “home”… home to that elusive place where I instinctively knew that love did not hurt. Those episodes established the parameters that would later define me as a “dust mote circling around the fuzz-balls who hang out on the fringe of life”. Always the odd one in a cluster of misfits, it’s where I feel most comfortable. I can join in, but having accepted the idea that our basic commonality is our uniqueness, I don’t want to become a copy of others. I am complete within myself. In that lesson I found I don’t need to sit and cry for ‘home’ any longer, gone are the days of feeling sorry for myself. I cried a river of tears and journeyed to the darkest part of the ocean where I once again found my voice. How’d I get from there to here? By refusing to give in to the fear, by facing the pain and by embracing my rage. I faced the Dark Goddess, donned Her essence as my own and claimed the pain as a tool for change.
Sekhmet
The world’s sorrow, carried with joy, was lifted
The Earth’s sadness, humbly felt, was eased
The connection to creation, always there, though sometimes lost
Is once more recalled
Sekhmet beckoned
Awaiting the precise moment, knowing I was ready
She emerged
With Her offering, I let go of all I had held
The strength of desires, a fierce calling
The lure of vices, a power welling up
A yielding to Her, timidly undertaken, not wanting to burden
Is a blessing to my soul
And so my dance within the darkness was the illumination I sought, the light to guide me home.
I consider myself an artist and, for me, an artful life is about spiritual alchemy… the transmutation of base emotions to pure gold. The elevation of one’s emotions from the whining of the inner brat to the reclamation of the divine joy is the truth of a unified self and the alchemical reaction to profound spiritual pain. I still cry, weary of the pain… but it is the pain of others that elicits that response now. I weep for the world, for the pain others need a break from carrying. See, when I took the glasses off and removed my head from the clouds I ran to the safety of nature and planted my feet in the soil of this realm. The scent of moss and dark earth became the comforts that eased the shock of my transition and I became one with the flesh of this world. In so doing, I connected myself to the element that is closest to the core of who I am as a human… the element that is the building block of all humans.
Gaia, my sister, the living earth became my anchor to joy. However, the cruelty of “human nature” chipped away at the anchor until all that remained was a shred of hope, the one I clung to fiercely. The “shred of hope” was the solace and all I needed to do was to listen for the voice of spirit and transcribe that voice into this world. That, at least, provided a purpose to my stay here in this dense realm. Now I shed more tears of JOY & GRATITUDE and find myself so lovingly blest.
So my father's admonishment to plant my feet on the ground was a boon to finding my way home again... and although the moments leading here can be heavy, I found that with my feet firmly planted, I could more easily reach for the sky!!!
The Her-story of us....
And so they remained on a dying world as billions of lights spiraled all around them weaving a new world of love, a new home. The ones left to witness the death were those who had killed the world… the ones who had drained the life of love right out of it. And the beauty of the event lived in the fact that the plastic people would never know that they would finish out their time on a plastic world.
The “plastic world” had been lovingly woven strand by strand. Years in the making, it was made manifest by every Heyoka, Coyote & Discoridain void tech that knows how to reach beneath the layers of 'reality' and flow within the confines of non-space. Devotees of LOVE in its purest form, they became the woof and warp upon the loom of She Who Is, the Mother Primordial, the consummate Creatrix. As Her children had chosen to serve, so did She choose them to receive Her blessings.
The “plastic world” had been lovingly woven strand by strand. Years in the making, it was made manifest by every Heyoka, Coyote & Discoridain void tech that knows how to reach beneath the layers of 'reality' and flow within the confines of non-space. Devotees of LOVE in its purest form, they became the woof and warp upon the loom of She Who Is, the Mother Primordial, the consummate Creatrix. As Her children had chosen to serve, so did She choose them to receive Her blessings.
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