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how about just settling in making life comfortable rearranging the sofas hanging up the pictures buying a gas fire putting in doors and curtains a new cooking stove connecting the stereo continuing to paint and write being at peace? how about not moving letting people come to me knowing that here is a source of Divine light here the energies are welcoming how about letting go properties I do not need investing making a place t o be right here somewhere I am happy to welcome people because I am content in my own soul. I give and receive blessing here there is happiness and contentment
there's streaming pink/
like ribbons, castanets /
I say /
I bring my passion/
I am a lover/
I am blessed/
I have the power to bless /
nothing more and nothing less -/
Sperm are seeking entry/
they are swimming, some attached
and one breaks through!
There is an explosion, now/
the rest will die./
Competition is at the very heart of life/
a decision is made/
all else falls away./
It's becoming singular /
this business of conception/
and even then there's orientation/
and attachment, and the constant feeding /
will this new life embed/
or fall away /
in the bleeding?
Don't let them convince you/you do not know your ground-/I know you want to ensure /there will be money, honey/ but I am both Melissa and the honey-/ I am Queen Bee/An inexhaustable river of sweetness flows through me/I inspire /the colony-/You mated with me/and you died-a spiralling dance and a /moment of holy desire-/whatever else you wanted has gone/All you need to do now /is a little maintenance of the hives/and attending to sales-/ The golden alchemy in my heart and my /veins is pouring out/a river of honey/a river of money/whatever is needed is ours.
It was such fun to have that conversation /
when you were in Queensland/
horse whispering a sulky pony/
who had thrown her young rider in a temper/
tired of sadle and bridle at a tender age/
and neat green fields/
when she longed for bold adventures. /
You explained what I wanted to know and/
just as I had intuited/
you were the right one to advise/
Star directive five you said/
the path of Freedom/
I recognise you cos I am Star directive five as well/
Star sister! /
You are Turquoise though, of earth and I am Lapis /
What holy knowledge is coming here to birth? /
I am like that pony, grown old now/
and finally free to graze/
on green grass, fresh buttercups and dandelions /
but do I still /
have energy to jump the fences?/
still have energy to dance? /
It will be another new moon soon./
Shall I create a circle? /
Shall I talk to Hecate of this business to be? /
or maybe daytime Eva's needed? /
Shall I sit in the centre of Black Moon Dreaming/
in the birthing of who I am to be? /
Shall I call on my Muse? /
Paint and write of painting/
Write and paint of writing.. /
and what of you/
what do you choose to witness, as you find your own path/
and say good night so tenderly? /
Shall I sort out shelves and cupboards?/
Shall I sort out money? /
Shall I ask for direction?/
Shall I pray or all of the above-/
Shall I start to take/
new crystal medicines aligned/
with what she intuits is my path-/
that path of Lapis Lazuli/
to realisation. /
Such a holy blue, flecked with solar gold-/
Shall I just wonder and watch the rain, falling in my life/
maybe the land will become /
fertile once again./
13 March 2018 NM will be Sat 17th
It's late at night I have to write Don't hem me in- What is born here does not need the portal of a seed or deed or Vesica Pisces or even a fish- What is born here is the planet's greening its own very deepest dreaming, and my role as guardian of the sacred. I do not need an earthly birth I do not need to shed a skin, I just need a place to live, so I can give, what already lives within. I do not need another birth. Just a stable or an inn, just a piece of stable earth.
Show me what I need to know Oh you, the unknown Virgin, green and rose and brown outside but dark in the interior. oh emerald streams down and I say Ok I am here. This is my full bodied yes to what you, keeper of records, fear and despair of my ancestry and I know not other dread, may want to show me. Crack. My pelvis splits apart. Bone shatters. Shoulders arms are wrenched apart. Chest and stomach a bloody mess. Pulled by two imperbable teams of oxen, led placidly in opposite directions. Let go. I am split apart my spine divides, head hanging uselessly, no sense to make of this ancient cruelty. Let go. You do not have to see two sides. You do not have to hold anything together. You are not the Peacemaker. Authority comes from the author of the moment. The leader is one who has something to offer, in the moment. The elder holds all, but lightly, and allows for transformations.. let the old bones crumble into gritty dust. Fee Fie Fo Fum I smell the blood of an English woman Be she alive or be she dead I'll grind her bones to make my bread.. Holy Mother, please take my bones They have long belonged to you in any case Grind these bones to make your bread Perhaps then the Garden will be fertile.
You walked out of my mind, that upper room/
one day when I was out at a meeting-/
you just packed up/
your lamp, computer, heater/
and your statutes of Ganesh, Kali and that photo of an Aboriginal Gaia/.
You took the painting I made for you as well. /
Nothing is left but an absence. /
You, who told me you believed/
we are twin flames-/
You who asked me to work with you, to go to America./
You who complained I was in your dreamspace, never mind how much you broadcast../
I turned the volume very low./
You were generous, welcomed me to your classes
when I had that excruciating vision/
of the death of a child in utero/
who I buried between two glowering/ flowering hillsides/
you said I was a nasty witch/
who pointed toxic energy in your direction/
and gave you the flu/
not to come near/
not to contaminate your space/
Well you did not say quite that, but I think you meant that/
and by email, not face to face/.
You taught me something quite other than you intended-/
and now you have left, leaving only beige.
process and techno info/ every day/ teachings/ every quarter moon/ smusch it up together/ what's said and my reflections/ images given/ images found/ images made/ images from dreams/ images from writing/ photos, sketches/ more photos/ writing/ mine/ yours/ debates/ quotes/ what will emerge?/ scribble out every page of processing?/ white it out?/ burn it and apply an ash and gesso paste/ I don't actually like pretty and fru fru/ but maybe that's part/ of wisdom/ and quantum healing/ jaguars and guarding the thoughts that flow/ hunting down and killing my complaints/ why does my computer chant/ frazzle your inner six????
there's a basket in the hall that used to hold those magazines/we barely had time to read/ now it has towels that are new but/ the wrong colour for my bathroom/ cleaners/ more than I want/ china/ I don't need/small pictures I still treasure/ screws and nails and tools and pegs/ why ever did I bring it here?/ there's his mower in the car/ an extra spade and rake/ I don't need those either/ another floor mop/ well/ I guess the one I have will eventually wear out/ secateurs/ oh I wish I also had the roses!!
sweet heart/ another three hour conversation/ your brain is mashed potato/ you are being challenged to say who you are very simply/ to people who run hamburger stands/ you say if I can explain to them I can to anyone/ but are they your preferred customers?/ the teacher yes, he need to get it./ try:/ I run workshops/ and one to one sessions/ to help you navigate/ your personal issues-/ I use art, dance and archetypal work/ to get to what's underneath/ what lives unconsciously/ I want people to know who they are/ and do what they really want to do./ yep, I have rooms in/ (that leafy suburb)/ and I run workshops all over, often in/ (that other well known place)/ at (that other well known venue)/ sure, take my card/ (with your website and phone)/ give me a call/ I'd love to hear from you./ That about sums me up too/ except that I don't have rooms in that leafy suburb/ and I want to work from a studio/ in a garden./ sweet dreams my friend
here I am/hot/upstairs /in the home/ that is no longer mine/I need to weed/ again/I need to vacuum/ again/I need to dust blinds/ and clean the sinks again/I need to take the last plant /and put it beside my car / I/need to take the last/ things from the shed/water the garden/ sweep the bricks/ again again again again again/again again/to gain/a sense of closure / pride/leaving it right/hoping tenants will do the same/again again again/not a lot/ but it feels so hot/it is so hot/ again/
yep, he's done a runner/ I went upstairs to the room next to ours and he had cleared out!/ not a word, after all those years../ there was an empty carpeted space, beige not interesting/ a faint crease in the carpet/ some dents where the desk had been/ a faint stain from some long ago tea/ spilt without noticing/ it was quite neutral/ I was shocked at how neutral/ and also hurt that he did not explain/ did not say goodbye/did not wish us well/ paid/ according to the owner/ only up until today/ with no notice/ no consideration for her either/ about how she would find a new tenant./ She asked if I wanted the room?/ Perhaps we could have one each you and I?/ I declined./ The dance space is great for workshops/ but, day to day/ I want a ground floor studio/ with a garden.
Let's set it out in white and black/ You love me/you want me to be at the centre of all you do/You want me to stand like the Melalucca tree/old and hollow and dripping with wild honey/ And you also want a sweet and sexy woman of thirty three/ who will make a modest home with you/ down by the sea/ curl up with you and bring you children, yet leave you free/ to visit and to work with me./ Dear one how likely is that? / I am a woman and not a tree/ I cannot split myself in three -/ between two little ones in other cities /and a man who can't bring all his love to me./Despite what they say love is never free./ Perhaps, perhaps/sadly perhaps, the honey of my loving will remain with me.
I paint the shell that holds the inner sea/ the shell is held /in deep veridian/ spiralling green/ and from the pearly yoni portal/ foam splashes out and down/ heralding a tsunami of kundalini/ not yet seen/ as children we held such shells/ listening to that soft growling murmmer- we were not at all surprised/ when a sea curled around our beds and we could splash and play, even finding sand, while parents mowed the lawns and cut the roses/then at the ocean we were no longer scared/ of crashing waves or screeching gulls/ we knew the inner sea (100)
The foam is now a circle of pearl/ gently enclosing the wide open world,/ making a place of rest and of peace./There is welcome./There's a purity in the embrace of the emotions/letting them all pass through/ letting each have its say/ without being swayed more than a reed/ not uprooted- /yes, there's been shock, yes, pain, yes, dismay/and yes, the breeze is gentle today/ integrity is the feminine way -/ after the outpouring, an indwelling, a time of snuggling with a little girl who is so pleased to be here/ loved and beloved/ my living pearl(100)
A pearl is something of great price. You have to hold your breath a long time and dive for it in deep waters. It is cut from the living oyster which must give up it's life.. Pearl is the healing of irritation, the answer to suffering, the answer to questions that cannot be answered.You came to me.I poured out my life forces around you, listening always listening, and made you a bed of pearl.Can we make anything of this that is of value in the world? I will offer up my questions. Perhaps we are simply making pearls.
Woman what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come. Do soever what he asks.. and the water was changed to sweet wine and served at the wedding feast.. not merely to save a family from the embarrassment of running out of wine, or to ensure a good party. No Jesus , newly baptised, was not intending this encounter with the Divine Feminine that would manifest the powers of the grape, which has its sweetness by taking sun to earth to ripen. His mother opened the door through her great Love.And the marriage was celebrated.
the rosy shell that guides the river of my loving shatters, it can no longer hold the torrent, grief, another day upon shores that bring more bodies of the drowned when promises mean nothing- and we are not strong enough to to do what we said we would do, ought to do, need to do? will there be pink silk flowers on emerald green, cherry blossom once again? can new life matter in such days? yet babies hold my gaze, they trust that I will hold the space, open my heart to love and grace, and somehow mend the mess, together mend the mess. I am planting tulips nonetheless.
It just isn't Ok. When Persephone and Hades have a child that child is me. Having gone through Her cauldron she fished me out and dried me on her lap while he beamed, a proud papa. I know I am their child, a child of Love born in the depths of what can be called hell or maybe just dismemberment- She takes me to the upper world of course where grandmama Demeter feeds me with all delights, but it isn't OK, I don't belong wholly in this upper world, nor yet, in the place of my birth. I'm seeking my companions on this earth.
Mary wears a slip of white under a rose red robe/this shows/ the pure intent under her loving heart/white and rose roses grow where-ever she goes/May roses of hearth and heart grow where-ever I go. /Mary wears a cloak of heavenly blue/inscribed with the patterns of the stars/that mantle covers us all/we are, as she is. Mary has a pure vision/She sees the dove descend/ She brings her love of Mother Earth/ and He fills the water jars/with the wine of celebration-/let me have a pure heart see the dove descend/bring my love of Mother Earth/welcome the wine of celebration/and destruction here transcend
it's that damn boab seed/
they are big/this one was engraved and stained and beautiful/I bought it the very first time I came to Australia/ /somehow it got planted inside me/ I have become a boab tree/
there's one in the gardens /rather uncomfortably transported from the hot and stunning Kimberley to this southern city/It has survived, perhaps I will too/ vivid rainbow correllas nest there/ perhaps their colours will fly among my branches/though my homeland is younger/cooler and more vibrantly green/
perhaps I too will become hollow inside/
give shelter to travellers/as I age. (100)
Young Ophra thanks for the pep talk get up at dawn walk around the rocks catch what you catch then come darn your socks clean up the paper lying on the floor pretend the beloved is coming just now through the door deal with lethargy shame no blame jfdi darling
You ask what burns within? what fire? and what fuels your fire? what literally needs to be burnt so that the way is clear? What ashes need to be collected? what refuse swept and piled into a bonfire that we're not allowed to have here, where fire is such a risk. The inner fire is also a risk. It burns down forests of doubt. Drains bogs of shame.Sends snakes rustling out. Leaves ash. So much ash. Smoke gets in my eyes and makes me cry from inner fire. The flaming heart risks pain. I'm building a container, once again.
Bells from Nepal hang in a double strand on my bedroom door/ My drawing of a turquoise and pearl heart of wings/ the ones that brought me here/ are on the other door/the one into the studio. That door also holds a black and white kite from NZ from my sister and some lavender from the vigorous bush outside. Nothing decorates the inside of the doors. It is as if I want to announce the protection that graces my retreat to sleep and contemplation. Perhaps I should also honour that step back into the world, make it more deliberate?(100)
Suddenly both men lost balance and fell in. A crocodile, (what was She doing inland in any case?) snapped, and dragged them down together to keep on some ledge to be devoured at leisure.. the water turned crimson./The whole lake was now a deep blood red. I gasped/ I looked away./ As I returned the crocodile rose up upon its tail, dancing in the middle of the lake. Ecstatic joy suffused it's body and made it golden./It became lighter and unfurled great wings, dancing still dancing, dancing upon wine dark waters.
The dancing dragon caught the last sunlight glinting on its scales, reflecting a ruddy, rosy, brilliant fire across the red desert before dusk became star scattered night.The Milky Way wove it's dreaming mantle and I slept. In bright day I stood, now at the southern edge of that lake, watching as the red waters were sucked down into the earth and only a few cracks in the dry bed remained.There was no need for the red sea to part, it was sucked into the earth and a man walked across it toward me. A golden man, still glistening as a cicada does when it has just shed it's skin.
At home in another city in the sister country far from the sacred centre of Australia with that unknown lake (which I later learned does indeed exist and is a centre of men's initiation) I recalled that extraordinary encounter. The wrestling of my teacher, a small, light, lithe and brilliant Jewish man with his Shadow, a tall black man who rode the New York Subway. How did they get there? How did I? Why choose the centre of the dreaming land to die, and be born again of the most ancient mother, to be a golden man?
Oh I will certainly like it! Old age is an account. You need a balance of happiness to draw from. I am still putting happiness into mine. I am never short. I will like my room in this nursing home. It is not a matter of how the furniture is arranged. I will like it. I already decided I will like it. I will rise get my hair done. I will not think of parts of my body that do not work well any more. I am happy. It's a choice. I am 99. I am happy.Be happy sweetheart.
As I saw it all so vividly the golden man walked across the room and looked at me with recognition, compassion and barely pausing walked right into my body and then turned around, to face out, to see with my eyes, think with my mind, feel with my heart. It took a few hours for him to reach right down my arms and suffuse his energy with mine. It took longer for him to align his body entirely with mine, bringing me a sense of certainty. He called me, or was it the land that called me? I now live in Australia.
Remain in me. Let my words remain in you and you will bear much fruit. Without me you can't do anything. But if you remain in me and my words remain in you you can ask whatever you wish and it will be done for you.It is to my Father's glory that you bear much fruit. I have called you my friends. I taught you everything I know. I chose you so that you can bear much fruit. Whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you. This is my command. Love each other.(From John 15)
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