Reflections, self-discovery, Visions

Immortal memories… Confession or Myth?

*( for Sha’Tara…)* These observations are all based on “memory” which may (or may not) be “true.” Memory itself is often faulty, morphing to better suit how we see ourselves, or how we think things ought to be. When carried with a diagnosis of schizophrenia, they could also be pure imaginings, as “reality” itself morphs to fit my expectations. But keeping all those caveats in mind, here is what I can recall… ūüėÄ

All my life (this life) I have been haunted by “visions” of other times, other worlds, other lives. Mine? Or someone else’s? I’ve never really been sure. They come and go, triggered often by whatever may be occurring around me. Some are outrageous, seemingly pure fiction, making me reluctant to share them at all with outsiders, except as stories to read or share around a communal fire. Others are muted, seeming “less” than they feel, overwhelming me with a sense of significance, while not revealing anything apparently relevant or important at all. But through these “visions” of other times are certain Constants…

1. “I” am always female, even if I am not human.

2. I “see” and use time differently; “time” being merely a means of ordering events, not written in stone, and easily re-arrange-able. A corollary of this Constant is an obsession with all things time-related, as I struggle to reconcile my sense of timelessness with the rigid standards of my current lifetime. This includes a sense of immortality and an unrelenting idea that aging and death are unnecessary, even in human form. (Though I clearly haven’t figured out how to make that work yet! Lol!)

3. A deep and abiding sense of “loss” and a vague, undefined sense of “hope” that somehow (must!) justify that loss.

4. A need to “hide” in plain sight, to remain anonymous, even when my ego craves attention…

5. A sense of purpose, even if unknown, often accompanied by enforced repentance (where I am the enforcer); a certainty that any “punishment” I draw upon myself is well-deserved, even if out of context.

6. A sense of waiting… for some time, some clue, some event far distant when All will be revealed.

In addition to these Constants are certain Patterns that repeat. For example, almost all occur in the northern hemisphere of Earth; I have no real recollection of having spent time south of the equator, though I suspect I visited once or twice. Mostly my time here has been spent in North America, in the Ohio basin and around the Great Lakes. I do have many memories in northern Europe as well, centered around a “home” feeling in the area known as Scotland, but I am certain I spent time on the mainland as well (none of which was pleasant, I might add, carrying feelings of terror, dread, sorrow and regret).

I also tend to remember many of my “deaths,” even now recalling and judging the least miserable ways to die. (The easiest way I remember is electrocution; one of the worst ways being drowning.) Along similar lines, I am downright phobic about torture and “zombies,” a very specific form of undead. I can’t even watch such scenes in movies or on tv without cringing, walking away, or changing the channel.

The mere sounds associated with torture, or seeing the tools used, will send me into a nearly blind panic. I can only presume that “not being able” to die, having some sort of regenerative capability while suffering some such cruelty is behind this “irrational” fear. I often speak of Death as a friend who abandons me, as a goal that eludes me, etc. Even in this current lifetime my friends all joke that I cannot die, only suffer eternally…

I have had multiple dreams about death (in this lifetime) arising from some flesh-eating disease, and perhaps my fear of zombies relates to this. Or maybe it is a memory associated with leprosy, or something similar…

I have an awareness of the stars, though no desire to go out and travel among them. I prefer the terrestial beauty of life on this planet. I tend to look up into the night sky, taking note first of moon and planetary positions, then finding the constellation of Orion (when possible), followed by a search for the Pleiades. My search is always the same, and always in this order; a habit I cannot break. I feel no kinship with Orion, though; rather it is a sense of wariness that causes me to seek it out. My love goes out to the Pleiades, the Seven Sisters, and though I often cannot find them in the night sky, my heart feels both joy and sorrow when I do, usually obscuring the image in a blur of tears…

I also have a fascination with “magick” – not illusion and subterfuge, but a true altering of reality to meet one’s needs. This is coupled with an interest in science, where all such magickal happenings can be explained. Quantum physics is both my nemesis and my mentor, drawing me in with potential and possibility seeming to match my “understanding” of how things work, but eluding me in technicalities I will likely never fully understand. But I suspect they are the “same” principles, ultimately, where magick is the intuitive grasp and use of quantum physics’ very real laws and processes.

So here’s what I “remember” of my life as an alien (not from Earth, but here nonetheless)…

I have no clear idea of how I appeared to others. Perhaps there were no mirrors and that is why, but I can only “see” myself from my perspective looking down. I was tall, willowy, with outlines that wavered inconsistently. (Not fully present, or a shapeshifter, perhaps?) I wore a long robe of natural fiber, off-white, which seemed to glow in the right light (or I did), mostly at sunrise and sunset, moonrise and moonset, transitional times usually.

I was here studying Earth’s wildlife and plants, learning Her ecosystems. I remember being amazed at how orderly it was all arranged, the symbiosis achieved by many species. It was then, perhaps, that I began to think of the Earth itself as being sentient. I also developed a deeply abiding sense of love for trees. Even in this time I am drawn to trees, often stating that I wish to be one. They have such a strong sense of community, of empathy, a wisdom gained through hundreds of years of life, passed on to future generations in amazing continuity. Perhaps it is that Earthian form of immortality that so appeals to me, as well as their innate desire to be of service to All life, in whatever capacity they can serve. Even in “death” their usefulness and blessing remain, enriching those they serve immensely (a truth deeply felt by those who survive in northern climes, whether acknowledged or not).

I was immortal, at least in the sense that I could not die by natural means. My race had regenerative capabilities, and immunity to most microscopic invaders. We had learned to enhance that ability, only growing to maturity, then maintaining that “peak” level of performance. There was something in our blood, a sentience not our own, that could be communicated with. It could also be “shared” for short term emergency purposes by an injection of our blood into other host bodies. But the Blood itself could not replicate or survive in a species other than our own (or at least we had not yet discovered how to do so)…

As a result, we were a peaceful people, valuing life (all life), driven by the accumulation of knowledge and wisdom. Since we could only “die” by catastrophic means (or violence sufficient to overwhelm the Blood’s ability to heal), we were deeply anti-violence. We also grieved each death as a loss of wisdom and community, felt keenly and personally, for all that would not now be achieved.

We worked in tandem with another alien race, more agressive and warlike. I, personally, had little contact with them, working in a field of study that only mattered to them in terms of results. Always looking for resources to exploit, I found them very “unlike-able,” although such judgements would have been anathema to my way of being. It was a constant challenge for me, learning to “love my enemy,” though we had no truly acknowledged “enemies.” Still, I never trusted them, and often blamed myself for both my failure to accept them as they were, and my failure to stop them from pushing through policies detrimental to the indigenous life on Earth…

I also blamed myself for “turning a blind eye” to what was happening. Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, I hoped that what I did not acknowledge did not, therefore, exist. I was wrong about that…

I place my presence here (my arrival) at some 19000-21000 years ago, but time is such a vague and inconstant concept for me that those dates probably mean little. Perhaps that is when the “rebellion” took place, rather than my arrival, and that is why the time period sticks out in memory…

I know that I was not alone in my resistance. I know that others opposed the exploitation and experimentation taking place. I know that others found the courage to stand up against such policies, in spite of the consequences. And I know many died as a result, both human and alien, and that all were significant losses in my heart; losses I felt keenly responsible for…

I could not take up weapons for the cause, but I could work to destroy the portal through which we travelled, trapping most on the other side. It was an act of betrayal so profound that even now I cringe to think of it. But I truly believed it must be done, and I accepted the consequences of doing so.

(As a side note: when I returned at last to the scene of my crime last year – the Serpent Mound in Ohio – so much of this came rushing back. And I was appalled at the disrespect such sacred ground had attracted from those “happily ignorant humans with good intentions and a total lack of history”. For they have many theories of why the mound exists, and few ring true to me. For me, it is a graveyard, a place of death, a scene of betrayal where a great battle took place. It is also a reminder of so much that has been lost, and a warning of how easily those sacrifices can be forfeited. For while I was there, I passed humans seeking to re-open the portal so many paid so much to close! And I was angry beyond reasoning, truly wanting to hurt them all! It required much discipline to move beyond those rage-fueled impulses to discover that perhaps it is, indeed, time to reassess my position; to at least consider I may have been wrong before, or that the time has come to let the battle continue, without my interference. But it is hard…)

When my self-imposed exile began, I chose to continue my work, learning about this planet and attempting to foster peace and healing wherever I went. I moved around a lot, though mostly within a confined territory, choosing (once again!) to ignore what was happening outside it. I knew others (alien others) were also trapped here, but I purposely avoided and ignored them, leaving each to find their own way on this planet. I never even bothered to try and find out how many were here, avoiding many places where stories abounded of alien encounters. I believe today that guilt, shame and fear drove me, not being able to peacefully reconcile my betrayal of others with my upbringing. And I remained immortal for a time…

But the day did come when my immortal life on this planet ended, though I’m still not sure how. Perhaps I was murdered, or simply gave up the will to continue when my “blind eye” strategy backfired once again. For I saw much violence come to destroy the terrestial life I had nurtured and encouraged, and it was a whole new level of betrayal; like taming an animal with gentleness and respect, only to see it tortured and destroyed when it approached others in trust. I was responsible for that misplaced trust, and I saw the horror in their eyes as they discovered that themselves, too late to prevent their decimation and suffering…

Upon my death, I must have chosen to return in human form, though I remember feeling shocked (and secretly excited) about having done so. That first lifetime I remembered much of who I’d been before, retaining memory, knowledge and wisdom. But I would soon discover all three fading, with each subsequent life lived, creating a sense of urgency in me to recreate immortality (or timelessness) in human form. Until all that remained of my alien identity were those Constants and Patterns I mentioned. This is no doubt why I speak of “devolving” into human form; not so much a judgement of worth, but a measure of knowledge and wisdom lost through successive rebirths…

When I speak of having “retired” from the life-death-rebirth cycle, and my subsequent choice to come back at this time, I do not know if that retirement refers to my immortal alien life, or a completion of a human journey. I suspect, however, that both may be true, and that I have returned now because that portal may re-open soon. Am I here to stop it? Or finally face those I betrayed? I have no certain answers either way. But I am here to bear witness to whatever happens next…

*** *** ***

I have at times in this lifetime (and others I suspect) found “followers” behind me on the path. They are drawn to me for reasons even they can not elucidate, but it always involves learning or guidance in some form. I, myself, am always reluctant to encourage this, knowing in advance how it will end, for it always ends the same – betrayal and abandonment, for no rational reason they can recall. One day we are friends, and all is going our way, and the next day they will turn on me, naming me a hated enemy. When pressed for some explanation, their answers will be incoherent or not forthcoming at all, usually involving brainwashing, or magic, or some accusation of an imaginary crime, which leaves me standing there (alone again), shaking my head in bewilderment and vague denial. But I recognize the look in their eyes, for I have seen it countless times, and the name for what they feel is Fear…

I’ve even had occurances when people I’d never met were warning others to stay away from me. I have no idea why; and no one could (or would) ever explain it to me. I’m not a scary person. I’m peace-loving, gentle, understanding, empathic and sympathetic, and I abhor violence in all its forms – physical, verbal or emotional. But Fear, by its very nature, is irrational, and so all I can do is move on. Alone…

I know that every journey is unique, and each must find their own way to “enlightenment” or not. I fight the desire to judge others on their journey every day, knowing (though perhaps believing differently) that every path is taken by choice, and I cannot choose for another, even if I disagree with where they are headed. I stand by, trying hard not to interfere, when such choices will likely lead to harm, for themselves or others (including myself). And I wait…

For what I cannot say…? Redemption, perhaps? Forgiveness? A chance to “right a wrong” that can never truly be undone? An opportunity to weight the Scales of Justice, even if said justice be against me?

I know one thing for certain, and I feel it in my bones and in my heart – that Time is coming… Soon!

My personal past, the truth of who or what I am, will be revealed. To me, if no one else. And I will know exactly where I stand (at last) in the broader scheme of history…

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Reflections, self-discovery

The Analogous Mind…

Write your self a story,

complete,

and live it as your own…

Chances are you’ll learn something,

about yourself,

that was previously Unknown.

***   ***   ***

That’s the thing about fiction and fantasy, though, isn’t it? ¬†Innocuous, entertaining, completely unreal-istic. ¬†Until you live it as your self, and make it your own.

Then it becomes real. ¬†Totally real. ¬†For you anyway…

The magic of great writing is that ability to pull you in, immerse you in the “safe” realm of words. ¬†Feeling isolated from the drama and trauma of life for a while, comfy and cozy in your little reading nook…

Until the truth slams into your heart, taking your breath away, leaving you stunned. ¬†And speechless. ¬†For there is no response when it happens that way, no escape, no retreat. ¬†The author may have lured you in with beautiful words, but they stick, remaining with you long after you look away…

Like a curse…

Writing your own story allows you to control the ending, but otherwise the process remains the same. ¬†Hidden gems and unconscious agendas control the rhythm and the rhyme. ¬†Your Self directs the flow, while your self just rides along. ¬†These truths last…

Until the next story is written…

***   ***   ***

In the “real” world we call this empathy; less thought, more feeling. ¬†But the steps remain the same. ¬†Immersing our selves in someone else’s frame of reference to learn about ourselves. ¬†Each new Other we encounter is a new opportunity; each new being we meet, a lesson come to greet…

We live in an infinite hall of mirrors…

What a disturbing thought to think…

For this story, this analogy, has led to yet another unforgettable truth, the previously Unknown, revealed:

I, too, am a narcissist! ¬†And this¬† is All about Me…

Ugh…

 

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self-discovery, Stories..., Visions

The Embrace…

I am walking down a forest path, at peace, contemplating all that has been happening near me. ¬†Something moves in front of me, though what it is at first eludes me. ¬†Gradually my eyes focus enough to “discover” a being hiding in the gloom behind a tree…

I stop walking, not wanting to intrude on or frighten this stranger before me…

“It’s ok,” I softly say. ¬†“I’m not here to harm you or disturb you in any way. ¬†I’m just passing through… ¬†Would you mind if I passed by, or would you prefer me to turn around and leave? ¬†After all, you were here first, weren’t you?” ¬†I smile to reinforce my words…

The being leans forward a bit, looking up and down the path. ¬†I see now its humanoid form. ¬†I notice also its wariness, its vigilence. ¬†I sense no fear coming from the being, just profound awareness, and caution… ¬†And strength, unlike anything I have encountered before! ¬†This being is in its element, and knows it; if anyone should be afraid, it should be me…

But I am not afraid…

I wait, patiently, wondering if (and how) this being may communicate with me. ¬†After several minutes, the sense of threat, of possible dire consequence, begins to fade. ¬†The being checks the path once more, before stepping out to face me…

At first I am bewildered by what I see, questioning if it’s a trick of light, or some sort of mirrored shield being held up in front of me; for standing on the path ahead is a younger, darker version of me. ¬†She is cloaked and hooded in forest greens, well camouflaged in this environment. ¬†Her posture is alert, but relaxed, raw power emanating from every pore of her being. ¬†She simply looks at me, expectantly, waiting for my reaction…

It is then I realize it is my Shadow facing me, the one who’s call has been leading me for days. ¬†And slowly, the odd dynamics of our current status begin revealing themselves to me…

For clearly, she has the power for now; her strength, purpose, presence are palpable. ¬†But I am in control; my consciousness must decide what happens next… ¬†I stand there, rooted like the trees surrounding me, held in this timeless moment by the sense of import, the sheer significance of this encounter! ¬†Finally, I take a small, almost involuntary, stumbling step forward. ¬†She stands straighter, somehow creating a less threatening posture in spite of growing taller…

“May I approach?,” I think to ask, falling back on familiar civilities, while seeking to convey respect.

She nods, but says nothing…

I approach slowly, soaking up every detail, mesmerized by all I see… ¬†“You are truly magnificent!,” I breathe aloud as I get close enough to truly see her. ¬†And she is! ¬†All the things that I am not – confident, secure, balanced – and so, so, so much more; I have difficulty grasping that she¬†is me, given how different we appear.

“I have been looking for you,” I explain to her. ¬†“Everywhere. ¬†In the forests mostly, but also in the lakes and oceans, in the sunlight that warms my skin, and the moonlight that guides my dreams. ¬†I have searched for you in my sanctuary spaces, and travelled to the crossroads hoping to encounter you. ¬†I have even dipped into the river of time seeking just a moment with you…”

“I have been waiting for you,” she finally speaks. ¬†“And now you have come…”

I chuckle nervously, unsure about what to do next, so I ask… ¬†“Now what? ¬†We have met. ¬†What happens next?”

“That’s up to you,” she softly answers. ¬†I am captivated by her calm, her lack of urgency, anxiety, or need… ¬†“What do you want?,” she whispers…

Echoes of that question reverberate in my mind, remembering other places, other times this question was asked of me.  But this time, I know immediately what I want!

“I want to embrace you, to hug you, to hold you close to me,” I answer, before shyness can prevent the words from escaping…

She smiles fully, holding open her arms wide, offering herself in perfect trust. ¬†I step forward eagerly, carefully placing my left arm above her shoulder, and my right arm beneath hers. ¬†Leaning slightly right, I hug her tightly, heart to heart, and let myself go completely in this moment…

I become aware of our heartbeats, separate, but the same. ¬†I feel them merging into one resounding, rhythmic, beat. ¬†I sense the boundary between us dissolving, with neither absorbing the other, but each becoming One… ¬†Each cell that defines us, each strand of energy, every memory, experience, hope, doubt and triumph merges smoothly, leaving us distinctly present while still being Whole…

I (we) breathe deeply, the scents of the forest accompanied now with a deeper understanding, identifying “what’s” and “who’s” in a way I could not do just moments before. ¬†As my mind automatically begins to process the significance of each scent identified, I feel my own (other’s) surprise at how efficiently it does so.

There is bliss in this experience of union, and excitement of what we can learn, do and create together! ¬†I (we) are complete, and the whole Universe is our home… ¬†And playground…

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NoBloPoMo, Reflections, self-discovery

Nature of the Beast (Day 14)

*** Please be advised that what follows constitutes a rant, so I ask you not to read this if you are easily offended or upset by such biased points of view.¬† I am not writing it to start a debate, but merely because I need to vent tonight, if only to relieve the pressure.¬† I will not respond to any comments seeking to drag me into a fight.¬† Period.¬† Nor will I be offended if you choose to not read it; actually, I will probably feel relieved, as this is not the version of me I like to express publicly.¬† You have been warned… ***

Today was Friday the 13th, an unlucky day by many beliefs, but always lucky for me.¬† I had a good day: I worked hard, finishing my work week, and looking forward to having tomorrow off. I got my necessary bills paid, did my errands, even got to stop off and see my pregnant daughter (both she and the baby are healthy – yay!); stopping at my daughter’s provided the added reward of seeing my grandson and picking up some home-cooked food for dinner (my daughter’s cooking always makes me feel grateful to be alive!).¬† I had been pleasantly distracted all day by what I wanted to write tonight, torn though I was between completing the next chapter of “Nemesis” and a poem that had been haunting me all day¬†which celebrates life.

Both pieces of writing I was truly looking forward to, so it hardly counts as a dilemma; the hardest part being what to publish tonight, for I don’t have time to write both.¬† The poem is more ephemeral, and I know that if I fail to capture the words soon, they will be gone; such a loss does not appeal to me because the message and the mood are compelling.¬† The Nemesis¬† story, however, is quite exciting, and tonight was the night I was destined to truly “meet” my nemesis.¬† The conversation that had been haunting my thoughts since last night sounded fascinating in my head,¬†providing two sides to both the faces of “good” and “evil.”; thus inadvertently¬†fulfilling the minor mission objective¬†of creating a somewhat sympathetic villain.

All happy, creative, productive things today, making me feel happy, creative and productive today.¬† And then I got home…

I walk into the house to discover that my cat has caught himself a mouse, and must have done so very recently given the condition of the little critter; for he was still quite active, and my cat was thoroughly enjoying toying with him.  I have heard it said that cats are the only other creatures besides humans who hunt for sport, and simply because they enjoy the game; they are also supposedly the only other non-human animal known to torture their prey before killing it.  And it seems to be true (by my experience anyway) that male cats are more likely to leave their prey broken and helpless, but not dead, while the females will torture and play, but almost always ensure the prey is dead before leaving it alone.

It is not a trait that I admire in my cat any more than I admire it in my fellow humans, and yet I love my cat dearly, and all cats for that matter.¬† So I accept him (and all of them) as they are, by telling myself it is the “nature of the beast,” and not my place to judge.¬† If this is how a cat’s instinct drives him to be, then who am I to try and question or change that behavior?¬† And, truth be told, I am grateful that he is such an experienced hunter, lest my house be overrun with mice as it was when we moved in…

And just before I settled down to write, I decided to check in with Facebook, just to see if anything of significance was happening with family or friends.¬† I started with an article about the corruption in the pharmaceutical industry, and how mentally ill patients are being cruelly abused in the name of personal and corporate greed; I was saddened but not shocked, knowing such activity is everywhere, and those who are guilty of perpetrating such crimes against humanity will never be punished for it, because they have all the power in today’s world.¬† There is no such thing as justice anymore, and everyday I look about my world I see more evidence of that; from petty quarrels over coffee cups, to animal cruelty, to political corruption and exemption from the law.¬† ¬†And it was then I started to see posts about Paris today…

Keep in mind that I do not watch TV news much, as I find it biased and inaccurate, and often times the inanity of what they report on, and the things they say, upset me much more than I care to stand.¬† So I choose to remain ignorant of most of what goes on, trusting that information I actually need will find its way to me.¬† Eventually.¬† And I have enough people in my life who know this about me, that I am lucky that it usually does, as those people can be counted on to pass on news of significance to me.¬† But I was not prepared to hear about the attacks on the people of Paris today…

OK, maybe not entirely true, if I am honest.¬† Just yesterday I’d had a vision during meditation of a youth walking with a large and loaded gun.¬† I never saw his/her face, but the purposefulness of the stride, and the way the gun swung confidently while they walked, led me to be concerned.¬† I suspected another mass shooting was about to occur, so I asked a couple people I know stay up on things to keep me in the loop if something should happen; but I also know, from past experience, that my issue with Time runs deep, and so often times these “visions” do not manifest in a timely enough fashion to actually mean anything at all.¬† And truthfully, I suspected shootings on a much smaller scale, like at a school or mall or such…¬† (How is it even possible to make such shootings seem so trivial??!)

This morning my meditation brought a vision of another as well, though this time it was a young girl playing happily in her room.¬† She couldn’t have been any older than 5 or 6, and she was playing make-believe with her dolls.¬† While I watched her, she sat back, glancing out the window behind her, then wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on her knee caps, her whole demeanor darkening.¬† I felt sad, knowing somehow her whole life had just changed; the innocence of youth had¬†fled before my eyes, and I knew there was nothing anyone could do to protect that child now from the harshness of a reality none of us¬†can control…

And so…¬† Paris.

I felt nothing as the news began to trickle in to me; nothing but numb shock, and profound confusion.  How?  Why?

Why???!

I could not cry at first, though I am certainly crying now as I write this, for I cannot comprehend the nature of this beast called terrorism… called humanity.¬† I understand the words, of course, and the method of making a point; I get why it works, generating fear and confusion, destroying complacency, making a statement loud enough for the whole world to hear.¬† But I do not understand the hearts of those who participate in such acts…¬† To take our individual rage out on strangers, whose only likely crime against us might be crossing our path, is simply incomprehensible to me, no matter how great one’s rage against society is.¬† I just don’t get that!¬† I cannot accept that – the cruelty, the permanence, the pointlessness; for if such violence¬†was going to work to change the behavior of governments and the like, then surely some of the countless examples of such acts would have yielded some victories by now!¬† But the only victory is the creation of more enemies, and more senseless violence, and more innocent children whose lives are forever altered for the worst…

And so such violence is not about changing anything, is it?¬† It is only about acting as one wishes, expressing one’s power over another to pointless ends; the most extreme form of narcissism, in a world that celebrates self-aggrandizement at any cost.¬† I cannot find an ounce of compassion in my soul for creatures that act in this manner, for they make the darkest villain I can imagine seem like a saint in comparison!

But I can accept my cat…

And so I become guilty of the kind of hypocrisy I so detest, for this attitude flies in the face of everything that I believe.¬† I believe that we are all One, more alike than we are different in the end.¬† I believe that we each should live our lives according to our own natures, free of judgment.¬† I believe that we teach and test one another by reflecting to each other the lessons we most need to learn.¬† I believe that each of us has value in this world today, and are deserving of love and compassion…¬† But I can not believe any of that right now, in the face of such an horrific attack against innocents…

And there are even sadder facts to digest, for as terrible as these acts in Paris are, they pale in comparison to what is happening to people all around the world; voiceless victims are everywhere – in Africa, the Middle East, the streets of Europe, the villages of South America, and here in my own country, in the streets of the very city in which I live, considered one of the most dangerous places to live in America today.¬† And the crimes against humanity are fueled and funded by my own government, whom I did not elect, and who have been shown to be guilty of countless crimes here (including treason), but who have never faced or feared “justice”!¬† And yet they are, in part, funded by me, doing my very best to be an honorable, upright citizen who goes to work, and pays my taxes and my bills.¬† I pay to support such violence and upheaval in the world!!!

And people ask me if I cannot imagine a scenario when I might be tempted to employ such violence myself?¬† And I honestly do not know the answer…¬† For I have certainly felt such violence in my soul, times when I would gladly have killed another, times I would have wanted to see them suffer first, and I’m not sure I would have truly regretted it had I acted on those desires.¬† Because if these people out there, fighting for their “beliefs” are in any way correct, then their actions are¬†justified within their own minds.¬† In the name of religion, politics, greed and revenge, they are sanctified and holy in perpetrating such intolerance and forcing their opinion down the throats of all who disagree!¬† And each and every one of them is a reflection of me!…

Perhaps it is the nature of the beast, after all.¬† Perhaps we are all damned, and doomed to self-destruct, taking down as much life as possible along the way.¬† Perhaps that is just the way it is today.¬† And there is no hope for any of us…¬† For while there may be “good” people out there, doing incredibly “good” things, that light seems so insignificant when weighed against the shadow consuming our world today.¬† Perhaps the best thing us “good” people could do is to die today, and let evil have its way.¬† For clearly we cannot stop it; we can’t even slow it down, and I, personally, have grown weary of bearing witness to their journeys, for it weighs heavily on my soul to admit we are related…

But worse for me is owning that we are indeed One, and if I were to die today and be absorbed back into that grander Self, then I, myself, would be responsible for the havoc wreaked today.

All of it…

And that’s exactly how I feel in this moment, right or wrong…

And yes, I’m glad that mouse is dead! ¬†I killed it, after all…

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NoBloPoMo, Poetry, self-discovery

“If I Had a Chance…” (Day 10)

“If I Had a Chance…”

Lisa R. Palmer

(9-12-95)

If I had a chance…¬† to say just what I feel today…

     would I speak of love

     or anger?

          Or joy & pain?

           Or fear & shame?

If I had a chance…¬† to do exactly what I wanted to…

     would I celebrate

     or cry?

          Or stand & fight?

          Or run & hide?

If I had a chance…¬† to be whomever I chose to be…

     would I be me

     or someone else?

          Or would I be at all?

I think I want to feel it All…

¬†¬†¬†¬† to do it All…

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† and be all I can be…

So, given who I am today,

¬†¬†¬†¬† I’d have to stay with me –

          a Woman.

For she is all of this and more

given only half a chance to be!

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Flashback..., NoBloPoMo, Poetry, self-discovery

“The Birth of a Butterfly”… (Day 25)

“The Birth of a Butterfly”

(6-15-95)

I spent my childhood as a worm

¬†¬†¬†¬† the lowliest of Earth’s creatures.

Crawling around in the dirt,

     staying close to the ground,

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† always afraid of being stepped on…

When I was caught by a powerful current,

     that drew me deep within myself.

Where I discovered a fountain of hope,

     a well of knowledge,

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† a pool¬†of peace…

With all the faith my soul could muster,

I struck out against my cocoon.

Time after time, blow after blow,

     against the false masks that concealed me,

¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬†¬† against the hard walls of my ego…

As my shell finally cracked, and the Light poured in,

     a flood of emotion flowed through.

I crawled out of the darkness,

     dried my tears in the sunshine

and offered myself to you…

Now I dance with the wind, high in the sky,

my wings reflecting the joy that I feel.

Guided by Spirit, uplifted by Love

I know

what I was meant to be:

The most beautiful of beings,

gentle, light-hearted, inspiring…

one amongst many

yet one of a kind

I was born to be a butterfly!

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Poetry, Reflections, self-discovery

“A Girl Child is Born…”

I wrote this last spring after a particularly compelling meditation/dream. ¬†In that experience I had birthed my new self, while also reliving my daughter’s birth (my only child). ¬†And there was a nagging hint that my daughter would soon birth a daughter, making it 3 generations of woman-hood: ¬†Maiden, Mother and Crone.

Since then, I have discovered my daughter is pregnant, expected to birth a daughter in early May 2016. ¬†And I have seen my own self transformed…

I had forgotten all about this until today, rummaging through my draft folder (apparently I had typed it up here and thought I might one day share it). ¬†Re-discovering it today… ¬†well, I thought, perhaps, it is finally time to share it…

This, then, was the vision…

 

I hold you in my arms, sweet girl child of mine

For so long I carried you

Inside my womb, and now

I see you, I touch you, I know you

Sweet girl-child of mine…

And, as I look you over this first time,

I notice that cord still joins us,

You and I

Two faces, one Being still.

I place you gently on the altar of my heart

Where you shall always be

I love you even more now than before

I labored for your birth.

For now I see you with my eyes

Touch you with my hands

Recognize you as your own being

While still being part of me…

I am caught up in this moment

In the perfection that is you

Perfect little fingers will one day build a world…

Perfect little toes will soon be buried in the dirt…

That perfect button nose will crinkle at unfamiliar scents

And sniff out new adventures.

Slowly you open those almond shaped eyes

And stare right back at me.

No fear…

No doubt…

Just perfect love and trust.

I see nothing now but those beautiful eyes

Prisms of light through my shimmering tears

Feeling the weight of responsibility for you

Knowing this

Yes, THIS

Is what I was meant to do…

Everything I’ve ever done

Everything I’ve ever been.

Everything I’ve ever wanted.

Cast in a perfect human form.

I lift you high above my head

An offering to the gods of love

A solemn promise to care for you

To nurture you

To protect you…

And I am done.

I pull you close, rest that auburn head against my breast

For I cannot bear the separation anymore.

And suddenly I notice, once again,

The presence of that cord.

We are One still,

And ever will be.

I have birthed you, sweet child of mine.

I have created you:

Lent you my body

My blood

And my form.

And now I honor your presence with all that I am

I swaddle you with my love.

And yes, sweet child of mine

I see you as you are

And having met you now,

I recognize you

As I am you, you, too are me

Re-birth of a girl-child

The birth of my soul…

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