Search

Dryad on the Wind

Catch me on the stardust highway, I'll be wearing a crown of pine needles and coffee beans.

In and Out of the Ether

I find myself partially in one or two or several worlds, always. Places where language is fluid…disjointed syntax and liberally adjusted grammar. In and out of the ether. In and out of my body. I’ve come to a point where I no longer have the energy or desire to be anything but myself, and sometimes I am difficult to pin. I don’t like introductions or “About Me’s” in the slightest. An abstract old spirit in a fun, young body. Youth isn’t always wasted on the young! The only purpose of this blog is to express…to make a little sense of my existence or at least maintain a record for myself. How else do we learn, if not from history? And about ourselves if not from our own? The moods will vary. The language will fluctuate and there will be periods of silence or just pictures or bullet point lists. I have been reborn recently; my only desire now is to continue growing as myself in the most fearless and sincere manner possible.

Advertisements
Featured post

Crafting Faith

Angelface

Coming into myself and into my grace

Just faith…and so different than what I believed it to be

Not sky-blue, store-bought frosting

But self-harvested sugar, scraped from the cane as I am born again

Whipped with butter churned from my struggles

Made into something enitrely new

No longer afraid to lose myself in the web

I AM the web

Angelface the Weaver

Farewell to Fear & Anger – Unedited/Unrevised

I keep expecting something big & poetic,
A wild vision of kinetic energy in motion
A potion, a barrage of emotion
Indeed I am alone in the ocean; not really treading, just barely floating
I came to this place to confront my fear, for some reason I thought it would manifest here
As a demon, as semen, as something unseen
As something once breathing, a liar, or teasing
But I’m sinking in the feeling it’s something less tangible, a little less manageable
And aching to be forgotten! Enticing me to drop it, inviting me to stop it instead of just stopping “It.”
I can’t quit!
The language here is dicey, but my god! The consequences pricey; paying rent to old captors when my spirit is so feisty? Come and fight! You can find me, I’ll be glowing; maybe crying, never slowing.
I am not sorry! I am not. I am not damaged or afraid, I am not weak or less or maimed. I remain, I remain. I am not beholden, or frigid, or frozen by your touch or entitlement.
I am above it! I cut it! Sword of Justice, light as a feather. Borrowed from Michael, you’ll never forget her…I decided to keep her. I’m a KEEPER! I’M A KEY, I AM A SEER, A FREER! I AM FREE, YES! (Angels and guides here) WE FREED HER! WE ALWAYS KNEW YOU WOULD BE HER! (Back to me)
Can you see her?
I am not bad for my existence, or a killer because my kisses are intoxicating
Yes, I may be a temptress
A soothing balm for all your messes, but I refuse to be your Atlas, not required to be your map-quest
And I am not too soft or shiny to call on my mother, Lilith! Crying out for strength and power when you’ve overstepped your boundaries
But…I have risen above lashing out in anger
You’ve trespassed my body and for a while I felt scars rising on my heart, threatening to mark my soul – it is un-mar-able.
I cut away the layers I’d made and found myself reborn, whole!
I will not be praying for you or preying on you or owned by you ~ I do not fear you or fear for you!
I am…emergent? I am emerging victorious, Venus on the foamy shore!
Screaming! Screaming Victory! The tar-heart of Beauregard dripping at my feet.
I am fearless and full, and I see the darkness in myself. I am soft and silly, plain spoken and young. I am ancient and complex, an ocean of ONE.
I am maiden, mother, Crone
I need not do it all on my own
My flow, indeed it is OUR flow! Connected to all the rich blood of my cycle, of old magick, of death, of allure, of black velvet richness.
And that is not – naught in the world is! – exclusive to the closed connotations crafted of fearful expectations and shallow understanding perpetuated by people who can only exist in boxes and segments and liminal spaces.
By knowing this I understand that I know nothing!
Oh! I do not fear the Morrigan, or Lilith, or Kali! I do not hide from myself facets of Hekate! I no longer shudder when I am compared to Her! Ha! To see such power, such fire…such infinite love, to be recognized as a spirit of such…as a goddess of creation and destruction…I find my purpose in their reflection!
I DO NOT RUN FROM LEI NYRA OR ODALÏ, or Circe, or any part/one of me. I do not deny the light of Saint Michael the Archangel in all of his glory or calm silliness. Nothing is conditional and I am infinite!
I do not deny Cernunnos, or Apollo, or Hypnos…but especially Cernunnos, the Hunter! The passionate, wild masculine.
Indeed I need balance that way, I can say it! I trust myself to know it in my presence.
I can be all pieces of myself cohesively…I am and I must be!
I needed to know that together these pieces made a whole, a jewel-toned mosaic, a holy blossom unfolded.
I am crowned! I am worthy and needed, I was meant to be here breathing. Knowing and needing, waiting, seething, leaping! Loving and grieving!
And worked through
I am the conduit, but I choose! I choose who I offer my hands and mouth to, who I push aside molecules for and have to cough back out again.
Undoubtedly I am priestess and keeper of the Celestial Storehouse,
I flip through the Akashic Records at the (any) time of my choosing. It will become (it is) soothing.
I’m no fool! But I’m always delving deeper
Leaping on faith, asking existence to be my teacher and my heart to be my leader.
Until the day I meet the Reaper, until the day I meet the Reaper!
Until the day I no longer breathe here, I will still be here
In the wind and the trees.

Continuous Motion

I am, as ever, in a period of transition…of release and forward motion, inhale, exhale.

There are so many things preparing to spring forth from me! I feel like a volcano and a magnetic field.

Right now, at work, I’m too tired to get much else out. There are days-on-end writing phases preparing themselves. There are (more) deep meditations to be experienced and shared. Vision boards to be created, lists to write, spells to craft, Spirits to honor.

I have no desire for company save for 7 or so people, and 4-5 of them in small doses only. I feel the pull of the raven haired man, I feel ready to meet him…but I am not eager or impatient, naive or jaded. Just prepared.

I imagine this is a strange update for anyone following. I was in a very deep, dark place for a while. I have come out of it, like the Star that so often is my significator.

Return

It has been many moons, my friends

Since I cared to touch brush, lens, key, or pen

And I am unsure of how to begin again!

But I am reborn, and I am returned, and I am alight with new found fire.

Debt Free

Tonight has been strange…peaceful and kind in its solitude, honest in the way I am shown to myself.

At the same time I’m lost. I’m swimming instead of wallowing in the sadness I harbor, wading in the depths of my life.

Kept company by thoughts of old friends, fresh memories, amends to be made with myself…I am as okay as I can be right now.

God is it dark! Is it sad! Here, with the Atlas weight of my friends’ depression…here, with the slow but efficient bone grinder of a caregiver’s work

Here, indeed, in this dark and cool room I find the peace of a starlit night away from the city. Here, amongst the steady snoring of the sick and forgetful I find peace.

I will not live in this place of suffering, in this bleak ocean of repetitive death through little means. I will move up, into the soft rays of light.

I will love the darkness like an old friend, but I will not pay it rent.

Dear John

I miss you, I miss you

And one day my grief, in all its homeliness, will be adorned in delicate, almost crystalline words

I will make beautiful my sadness, I will offer the world all the glorious, rose-scented saltwater it can stand

And I will find your grave marker…I will light a cigarette and dance with you…your improper lady, with skirts too high and drink too strong

( Future) Goodbye, Old Friend

Will you let me love you?

Not faintly, nor softly or gently

But now, while you’re sad? While you’re dying?

Would you let me love the openness you are resigned to?

The concrete jungle you’ve come to inhabit – I will furnish it futilely, with throw rugs and pillows

The only honest decor bottles caps and cigarette ash

You can use my lighter! I’ll wear your old shorts, we’ll get higher tonight than ever before

We’ll light these old temple candles in new honest prayer

This is my preemptive goodbye to you

Not really goodbye

I will carry you with me, always and everywhere

To every coffee shop and cemetery, every playground and kitchen – everything you’ve ever given me I will bear

I will be adorned in your gifts and lessons,  wearing them like fresh breath

Whispering them to my notebook, crying them out the moon the way you would to the black and white keys

 

 

Saturday Playlist – Cancer New Moon/ Summer Solstice – No Links

A couple days late, but here we are!

  • The Passenger –  Hunter As A Horse
  • Home – Morgxn
  • Love You With The Lights On – Morgxn
  • Guys My Age – Hey Violet
  • Mustang Kids – Zella Day, Baby E
  • High – Zella Day
  • Rendevous Girl – Santigold
  • East of Eden -Zella Day
  • River – Bishop Briggs
  • Hypnotic – Zella Day
  • Technicolor Beat – Oh Wonder
  • High By The Beach – Lana Del Rey

My Mother’s Daughter

I am my mother’s daughter. I walk like her, talk like her, sway to music only I can hear the way she does.

Sometimes my mom and I joke that we are soul twins, separated by age so as not to cause too much trouble. When I was growing up, especially when I was a teenager, we fought fiercely. I mistook us for oil and water, never to mesh. As I’ve grown, as our relationship has morphed and deepened, I find the opposite to be true. Right now she’s away for a conference and mini vacation and I find that I miss her deeply.

For four years I lived away from my mom. This trip home is temporary and yet I find myself both healed and in awe…my mom really is my best friend. We aren’t perfect but I’ll be damned if there’s a stronger person in the world than she. I think I come in second place…I’m not sure. I’ll be honest, these thoughts are forming as I type. It’s impossible to know the strength of my mother without knowing the women before her. My grandma, my great-grandma, and so forth were the steel behind the families they raised.

Collectively we’ve worked through sexual assault, abuse, poverty, ignorance, racism, and the strange betrayal of your child being the new “black sheep,” of the family.

(I want to include my paternal grandmothers here as well, for the same aforementioned reasons. I’m mixed! Of course my parents took their own route, race aside.)

I digress. My mom is my twin, my soulmate, my strength, my example, my inspiration.

I am my mother’s daughter, swaying to a strange beat. I follow the call of my heart, the promise of peace that comes with trusting myself. I am my mother’s daughter, a moody tempest of fire and ice; you will know my mind.

I am my mother’s daugher, hair a million colors and my smile speckled with tears. Watch my weathered healer’s hands grasp a bottle, listen as I whisper reassurance to myself. Watch my gentle healer’s hands wipe stranger’s tears, a privilege I hold most sacred.

I am my mother’s daughter, and all in my domain is protected and loved. Betray my kindness and feel the absence of my soul in your space;a hearthfire gone to cold ash. I am the warmth of a gas stove in a small house, reaching every corner.

I am my mother’s daughter, Oak and Willow sharing space, being all my children and friends need of me, and sometimes all I need of myself. I am quiet sacrifice, service, strength. I am my mother’s daughter and I make myself. If I cannot topple the wall before me I will drown it out. I am unstoppable.

I am my daughter’s mother, I told her that once. I am beautiful and full of life, sharper than a butcher’s knife and sweeter than honey. I am my mother’s daughter’s mother, full of wisdom from the women before me.

I am my mother’s daughter, beauty wild and unrefined. I am timeless like the goddess who bore me. I do not care for your mundane materialism; touch me with music and action. Reach my soul and maybe you will know me.

I am my mother’s daughter, nurturer of the broken. My memory is generations deep, my forgivness earned. The love I offer is unparalleled. Do not ask for the ocean if you can’t swim in a pond.

I am my mother’s daughter. I am Aphrodite and Ares, I am Diana. I dance beside the fire with the same body that cares for your ancestors. I lay beside the river, letting my last breath carry October’s leaves across the shore. I am THE woman, and I am the women before me.

 

Mom, I hope you like this impromptu bit. I love you endlessly.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑