When You’re Absolute Beginners…

Zion presented me with a panoramic view and I surveyed her land like a Spiritual broker; hell-bent on laying claim to the buried flecks of gold birthed beneath her stony ground.  I saw numbers in road signs and watched the highway blur beyond hot tears as a desert sunset reflected hot purply-pink across my cornea.  Mining for gold is a fool’s bane, but I was in love with staking land claims.

If cliches are the False Self’s sense of expropriating “knowledge” to bury more of the Soul’s gold, then “the more I learn and the more I experience, the less I truly know,” cliche is not such a bad mantra afterall.  I pondered these thoughts as the Medicine Man placed his vibrational tuning fork to my chest.  The metal hummed and whirred to the frequency of a tiny sparrow.

“You’re an Absolute Beginner,” he grimaced as he replaced the fork, chiming it once again with more verve and gusto.  A slight hum, whirr, and an audible “click” emanated from the device.  Ironically, the handle was gold.  I choked a sigh of relief.

The Medicine Man patted me on the back and whistled as he strode across the park.  His leather shoes made a slight squeaking sound as each foot pounded the earth.

She of Lost Faith

The Ship called Disappointment never left Port

so the absence of Cupid’s visit could hardly

be considered anything less than consistent.

 

She lets her fingers hover over the keyboard

with a non-blonde swish of “imperfection”

she types a few words and imagines him there.

 

His eyes are open and perhaps blood-shot

as he lay upon the solid pack of floe ice

with a bottle of whiskey frozen to his glove.

New Year Reconciliations

I hope that everyone had a Happy Holiday and a pleasant New Year.  I was not absent from this place and I’m sure a trail of my footprints could be identified as I silently knocked upon each of your doors over the last month or so.  I have retreated to the silence so to speak, and a little more willing to learn from the simple act of Observing.

I found myself hunkering down beside the fireplace this Christmas, recapitulating the past year’s events…the growth, the tears, the frustrations, the accomplishments and everything in between.  I have discovered much about myself and others and have decided that my Resolutions will be positive and realistic:

I shall honour and attempt to balance my life with harmony, love and satisfying interactions between myself and the environment in which I live, breath and grow.

I am going to honour myself with friends and relationships that ground me.  The flow of Qi Energy must be balanced with equal forces of creation and removal.  Right now, I require more construction and less destruction.  Too, I need more of the element – Earth –  in my life.  It is a grounding force and a necessity.

I shall not endeavour to be a Soul who may be predated upon by those who sap my energy with destructive feelings of jealousy, control or distrust.  Boundaries are essential to happy relationships. 

I shall seek the Truth and the Light without allusory metaphors or allegorical gimmicks.  Archetypal relationships shall be entered with solemnity, after Truth and Trust has been established.  Then and only then will I defend the mission of that relationship and enter the realm of the Sacred Mythic.

Much Love, Light and Energy to my friends.  I hope you seek and discern the messages of your loving Angels this year as you journey along your paths and receive the necessary guidance to live the Life you choose.  We each have within us, a Spark of something magical, and the net of Indra is waiting for us to enliven others with our Shine.  Each of us are unique and require various elements, experiences and energies to grow.  It is my wish for each of you to seek and find your true Divinity in this life, if you so choose.

Blessed Be.

A Musical Moment

The path to finding one’s beloved is fraught with gut-wrenching reality.  Meryl Streep is absolutely amazing in this scene (“The Winner Takes it All”, from the movie – “Mamma Mia”).

Celtic Imaginings

3595

 

“It is never too late to be what you might have been.”

~George Eliot

 

 

   metaltriskelion

“When Welsh King Pwyll saw the hill of Arerth, his men told him:  “If anyone of royal blood sits here, he will either receive a blow or see a marvel.”

“I will take my chances,” replied Pwll and sat on the hill.

All at once, a woman on a pale horse, wearing a robe of gold brocade rode slowly toward them.  Pwll sent a man to find out who she was.  He followed her on foot, but, though she rode slowly, he was unable to catch up with her.  Then he fetched his horse and chased after her, but still he was unable to catch her. 

The next day, they returned to the hill and again the woman appeared.  This time, the man followed her on the fastest horse they had, yet he was still unable to catch up with her. 

The following day, Pwll followed her himself, but finding her, again, just out of reach, he called out, “Lady please stop!” 

Immediately, she reined in her horse, turned toward him, and threw the veil from her head.  Pwll thought he had never in his life seen a more beautiful face.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Rhiannon,” she replied.

“And what is your errand?”

“I have come because of my love for you.” she said.

Song of Rhiannon

http://ofearna.us/art/lee-alan.html

Some Universal Lovin’ (aka Universal Nonsense)

Is there still time to celebrate Paul’s birthday?  Good, because I’m sipping Rum and Eggnog and don’t want to feel a tad bit of guilt!  Oh, too, I also thought of adding a little more ambiance to my evening but failed miserably because I lack the masculine sensibilities that allow me to spark a pilot light for my gas fireplace.  Oh well.   The cinnamon candle in the Tiffany style holder will have to do!

I wonder if I should continue blogging if I’m admittedly under the influence of said Rum and Eggnog?  Yes.  I know it’s a little early for eggnog, but I couldn’t control myself.  Darnit.  I will continue blogging…It would still be better for me to continue as a half-inebriated Canadian than a monkey banging a baseball bat on an electric typewriter.

Ha! [if you are interested in comparing the dimwit psychology of a brain-dead monkey tapping on a keyboard to that of an overeducated and partially inebriated half-wit...read on!].

Snicker.

Now…the concept of the “Universe” has been an intriguing one for many people that are adept at delving into the realm of Spirituality, paranormal occurrences, Tarot, Qabbalah and the like (need I go on?).  An interesting discussion with one nameless, faceless person last year had me defending my vision of the Universe as that place which is often described as the endless void of possibility in a spiritual sense.  I’m not a large proponent of The Secret, but I do aspire to believing that Energy is, as it will always be, a reality – like the Law of Gravity or the concept of Mendelian genetics and heritability (with a few exceptions).  Sir Isaac Newton was not a clodhopping maggot.

Woo.  Deep thoughts by a half-inebriated human.  Is the monkey catching up to me?  Let’s see…

kakjlakjlfkj;aknvjweu0eknlfa/lsdfijQVNO E=mc2 [kerplunka, kerplunka...].

Shit.  I think the monkey is on to something.  E=mc2?  Seriously???! Could someone give this monkey a shot of Prozac or something?  Or…at least pop a few invasive electrodes on his head and subject him to a variety of tests?

Ahem.  Now where was I?  Oh, too, I also think that the “other” more scientific definition of the Universe is an obviously valid one, in that it truly is a vast, almost incomprehensible and infinite region that defies all human linear comprehension.  Having said all of this, despite the scientific Hawkingesque approach one may take to understanding the Universe, the popular understanding of our vast Lady likely stems from Mr. Roddenberry himself.  I am sure that Captain Kirk was less interested with the theory of relativity than obtaining multiple pieces of hot alien booty as he travelled from one sex pod to another.  Did I really say that?  Give the monkey a high-five for me.  Star Trek rules.

Let’s gyrate to the holy hymn of Star Trek shall we?  Ohura was one sexy mama.  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!  Shake those hips!

Ok.  This leads me to tonight’s short piece (however nonsensical it may be).  It is a piece that is dedicated, not only to those kinkophiles cruising the Universe in too-tight silvery tights, spouting INTP Vulcan misnomers, but to those less repressed individuals who are in touch with both their feminine and masculine sides.

The Universe is sexless.  She is a He and He is a She that really is an “It”.  The Universe accepts all forms of sexy and reciprocates with equal charm as we shall see (ever hear of a Gooeyduck?).

Holy mama.  Is it getting hot in here, or did I just witness a Solar flare?

“A darkened void shudders the possibility and flutter of butterfly wing

With ripple effect upon your celestial skin neither milky soft, nor gruff

Breathless sighs magnetised to orbiting delights and craters of lunarscape

Dark and light sides of a blissful polarity so demure yet ravishing…”

Oh Hell.  Loving the Universe is a monumental task.  Give the brainy monkey my Rum and Eggnog and “Live Long and Prosper!”

I’m not a Cardiologist

She’s a sunshine lady, always smiling and hoping that her little heart crack won’t split the difference and cause a racous outpouring of emotion onto her dinner plate whilst her husband glances at her disinterestedly and pauses before saying:

“Please pass the potatoes…” with a low-key voice and a throat-belch from satisfied depths.

Her throbbing arrhythmia is muffled by the sounds of chewing and the clack of stainless on stoneware.

She’s an iron-clad lass, always geared to warm weather and willing to give, give, give before taking nether a drop of dew from the friends and family who love her.  She longs for the occasional rain or snow storm so hot streaking tears can stream down her face.  She accepts this dew as she sips of fermented grape.

A car window is a lovely frame for the searing tears of the heart-broken-face she thinks as she ponders the future car-ride home.  She takes great interest in the contortion that sadness, grief and longing plays upon her skin.

So, she waits as she has always done and the crack starts to split just a little bit more.  Each day threatens a maelstrom – an atomic sized cardiovascular catastrophe threatens to displace her heart from her chest.  Senor Defibrillator may have his work cut out for him when he pauses to electrify those broken heart bits.  Heart break or heart quake?  Another cliche for your ponderance.