Saturday, December 24, 2016

Yule



Not too many days ago, someone said to me after a holiday party in which we all shared some music and treats, "we must create more times like this - these warm and welcoming times. These loving times. These times that feed the soul" And that sounds so fetching and wishful. And truly, I suppose we might create those moments any time of the year. But that comment made me ponder and reflect on the magical and spiritual qualities of this time of the year - this Solstice, this Christmas, this Yule, this Festival of Lights. I have felt something so deep in preceding years as I gaze out across snow covered fields with gaunt and skeletal trees, as I long for the mountains in their capped silence and sentinel strength. There always seems to be a misty quality, a haze that stretches its fingers around and thru and penetrates even my heart now. I am so aware of something so much more real than this reality itself. Those spirits past and present. Those spirits future and beyond. Those who have preceded us into the West and those yet to come. But more than anything those that have gone on before seem so vibrant and whispering in these still and wintry moments. I feel the cold physically but the warmth of these feelings overcomes that and I am so touched by these spirits and these hauntings and these images that feed my soul. There is a different narrative this time of year. There is a resonance and an echoing that I can't deny as I hear each person speak and as I see each object before my eyes. It's as though everything projects more dimensions than usual. It's as though everything has been drawn and then painted with foam paint to create a raised relief that strikes me in unusual ways. I feel as if there is all wisdom hidden in these shorter days and long nights. There is much that is aged and ancient in these wizened traditions. I feel as if I watch, I will notice something I never have before.


And this brings me back to what my friend said and my feeling that these times can't be so easily created at other times in the year. At this time of year, we all huddle around a small fire and don't mind the closeness of another in this search for warmth. At this time of year, we sip warm drinks and feel the fluid running and trickling thru our beings and spreading this comfort with it. At this time of year we wear more clothing and cuddle under more blankets and feel this need for companionship. We don't mind so much the crowding and the family and all the trappings of the holidays. And so we need each other more and we need the blazing fire and the reminders that spring isn't quite so far away. We move more slowly and maybe eat a bit more. There isn't this need to strive or accomplish in the same way that spring and the new year drive us to. There's a slowness and a nostalgia and a reflection that I find unique.


So I believe these times are the magical ones. The things we do are often infused with a love that reaches far back, perhaps before the beginning of time. The ministrations we give ourselves over to connect us to this past and this present and those that are so far away and perhaps even to those that are gone on from our realm. We serve and eat this warmth and this comfort. We send cards to those we haven't communicated with for possibly a year or more. We reach out in ways we don't as often in the rest of year. We are more charitable, more hospitable, more aware of those in need. And these things contribute something. And these things place us differently. These tiny actions create auras that that are infrequent at other times. And I wonder if these auras of ours, begin to blend and grow as light meets light and love meets love until they burgeon into something bigger and more tangible and there is like so many rocks thrown in a lake and the ripples growing and growing until they meet in choppy undeniable waves.


I see tiny lights twinkling and making less the darkness. I feel shadows made less with familiar carols and phrases I have heard since before I was born. And I see these pictures of traditions and harmony as if I was looking into illuminated snow globes with tiny figures posed in love and giving. Colored lights, warm cookies, cards with glitter, green trees and the smell of cinnamon and pine. But still more..these snow crusted fields, these broken wooden fences, these purple shadows that reach their arms to a twilight sky - this time between the times alight with magic. And these places rising higher and higher and breaking into snow capped peaks and tall indigo mountains. And I feel this rising and this chorus. There are so many here and they are not all human. But they are strong with us and they are there for us. And I wonder at their being and there lack of place at other times when I am so sure of their presence now. This melody or this hymn sung with more voices than mine fills the cold and humid air, freezing in little crystals of light and shimmer.


I wonder if what I feel will be more clear in time. Or perhaps the mystery is what adds so much to this season for me - layers of snow upon layers, blanketing and obscuring. And so I continue on, making cookies, having friends over, serving hot cocoa and playing the old familiar carols. I serve this dinner or that. I give hugs and receive the love there is. Family...Friends... Even strangers. I feel so much in the eyes of those I care about and even in the eyes of those I barely know. Those eyes. So many lovely eyes - darker and deeper in these dim lights. I see their sparkle and their love. I see their tears and the crinkle that comes in laughter. This yearning or this wonder. I hear and I absorb and I wonder. This wonder. O beautiful wonder that makes me keep reaching for more of this journey and this time. And the greatest thing - the greatest of all these, love and heart. And these are synonymous with warmth for me. And that I will reach to give in any way I can.


I bend down, my knees touching the frozen snow. I reach out and touch falling snow with my bare fingers. Cold stings and freezes and so I let the snow slip thru my hand and cram my fingertips back into that too-small coat pocket.  Icy crystals reflect twinkling lights and shimmer.  I can't shake these things and I don't fully understand them. But memories that I have never had, and songs that I haven't yet heard press at me and call to me. And I wish I could follow them into the mystical night, the glitter of stars, and the glow of smooth snow that blunts anything harsh but the cold itself.

Saturday, October 15, 2016

Meeting the Magician




I sit for a moment, taking in the essence of the Magician. The card feels warm in my hand and lit from behind and the light is yellowy and bright. I gently close my eyes and the card itself recedes as my fingertips hum with the vibration of that light..

Images begin to form in front of me and I am no longer in this room. I sit with my legs drawn up under my chin, in a meadow with soft waving grass and a large tree filling the space in front of my eyes. From where I sit, everything is golden and sunny, one of those picture perfect days in early summer. The birds flit and chirp and I watch their movements in gentle fascination. They fly from grass blade to tree branch and back again, their songs blending in perfect harmony. I am relaxed and comfortable as I feel the grass beneath my toes and I feel the energy of this moment and the energy of my being blending as one in a way that makes me feel this scene is an extension of myself. The warm sunshine creates these dappled patterns on the ground in front of me, as it intensely shines thru leaves and branch. So many patterns - whorls, circles, energy. They are dancing. And I wonder if I can actually see the air itself as it eddies and flows and mixes with the light above. I feel like I would recreate so much in a painting with swirls and dips and strokes of light and fire energy. I smile at this play in front of me.

And now, this stately and somehow magical tree takes my attention - perhaps it is an oak tree. The leaves form a round and perfect canopy just beyond my head. The canopy of dancing leaves begins to fill so much of the space above my head. I feel myself drawn into the space of those dancing leaves. They come closer and closer until I am floating and floating and I reach out to touch the strong, thick branches of this ancient tree.

Resting on one thick branch near the base of the tree and looking down, just below me, I notice this man. He is strong but not muscular. He is straight and well formed. There seems to be so much of this swirling light around him and he exudes deep assurance. He is clothed in robes that ebb and sway with his movements as well as with the warm sun scented breeze. He raises an arm high above his head, and I am aware of an instrument of some such gripped securely in his hand. Over his head swirls more of this visible energy and I watch in fascination as it begins to circle in a hazy but bright figure 8. I feel strange chills go thru my being as I watch this but I am not cold.

This magician begins to chant spells and call air and earth and fire and water to him, one by one as he masterfully conducts his craft. Light and sparkles and shimmers swirl around his being and shake from his robes and he is deeply immersed in his workings. He doesn't notice me and yet I find myself drifting closer, drawn by the magnetism and the sureness in his movements and by the elements that seems suspended and living in the circle of his magic.. A circle of beautiful flowers has formed around him, pinks and reds and lush, succulent vines. The flowers seem to have a body and life that is tangible and engorged and I feel as if I would touch a blossom and come away with their living color on my palms. I breath deeply feeling my lungs expand with the richness of this moment. A sweet but delicate floral smell fills my nostrils and I am overcome in the beauty of it. I feel tears filling my eyes. So much crackling power and light fills this place. No longer am I separate but rather I am one with the energy.

The magician catches my gaze and I feel my tears glisten and catch the dancing light that surrounds us both. My tears leave my face to become powerful orbs of color in the presence of this vision. They are the element of water and from mine own self they are more than tears - they are drops of purest emotion. And emotion emanates between the both of us. Our gazes move back and forth, this transfer of knowing. There are no spoken words and yet I feel his communication and he feels mine. My eyes raise without trying, to the object in his hand and he seems to sense a shift. He raises his other hand to grab this object and all the while his body remains still. He is strong and he controls himself and his motions with dexterity and grace. He gives a half smile and his own eyes are glistening in this beautiful light. My hands reach to grasp this wand of wielding. I hold it and turn it over and over in my wondering hands. It is made of smooth white stone, so beautiful and calming and yet so empowering. I feel something tingling and moving through it even though the stone itself is solid. My eyes fill with its shape and my heart contracts as if this wand is an extension of my own being.

Images fading now. This idyllic scene. I see it being absorbed into a vortex of which I am the center. I am flying thru the universe and this vision becoming smaller and smaller. But I still hold the stone wand and I focus on it as everything flies around me. I focus on it and it fills my vision as I realize my surroundings have again become as they were but in my hands, I hold this wand rather than the Magician Card.

Saturday, August 20, 2016

The Judgement Card



The smell of earth is loamy and deep. There is damp wet earth all around me now and I stretch my arms ever so slightly as I bump into its cold dampness. I retract my arms, chilled and white, and huddle deeper into myself. My own being is dark and my eyes are closed and I am only aware of sensation without sight. These closed eyes won't open and I feel murky and foggy, and sluggish and slow. I wonder what my mind is trying to wrap itself around. I feel as though I have heard something. There was a sound that has called me from this stupor. And I ask myself how long have I been in this half curled position lying on my side. It was comfortable a minute ago but now I feel aware of the wet and the cold and the hard points pushing against my frail and thin body. I am unable to rise it seems and I languor a bit more in this dark haze of forgetfulness. It is quiet here if I can just let myself slip back again. Slip into these dreamless sleeps that call me once more.


But there it is again. Some sound seems to vibrate deeply thru these clods of dirt and I feel like it is brighter and still more uncomfortable than even these brief moments just before and I find myself annoyed in this place and vaguely restless. And suddenly I feel this rumbling growing underneath me and I feel my heart quicken. Was it beating before? Or did my heart just now start it's stampede in my thin and bony chest? I push again with my arms and find myself with hands to claw away the dirt in front of me. I create this tiny space in front of my nose and draw a breath of stale and moldy air. I push again and then more and more and I find myself suddenly rising without having made a choice to do so. I hear a loud pop as a lid springs open above my head and I am immediately drawn up and standing but without my muscles causing me to do so. It's as if some unseen force holds me in this now upright position and I realize my eyes are open and everything is so blurry and indistinct. I blink harder and brush at my naked body with sore and water sogged fingertips. I am so dirty I realize. Mulch and clods of dirt speckle my gray and uneven skin. My eyes are clearer now and I try hard to brush at this dirt and cause it to fall away but it is damp and I only succeed in smearing it further into my cold and lifeless skin. I realize my skin reflects who I am. I am dead.


And I startle to realize that my body is frozen and no blood moves thru me. I realize that my pallor is further enhanced by the fragments of dirt and decay lying heavily upon my shrunken body and frame. But somehow I can think and somehow I am realizing the murky qualities are quite lifting as I try to use these long shadowed limbs. They have sat still for centuries and in so doing have atrophied and decayed more than I wish to admit to myself in this startling horror that I am a cadaver. My sunken eyes...they seem to move and they seem to have a life the rest of me doesn't yet. I raise them just a little and notice I am standing in some sort of long wood box. And I raise them further to notice that the box I am in, seems to be floating on this grand space of water. The sun shines bright and yellow in harsh contrast to the gray and dark wood of my tiny ship. And still further - I am not alone!! There are others just like me. And I realize just how ghastly I must appear. These bodies all stand at strange angles unsupported by their own muscles, men and woman and children and half beings move their gray heads and dirt smeared arms in jerky gaits and struggle to understand as they blink against this harsh light.


And suddenly a bright and horrific peal of thunder breaks the hazy quality of this scene before my eyes. I notice all of us jump collectively and our small coffin boats rock precariously in the ocean water. I feel something slide off of me and I glance down hurriedly to watch a great swath of dirt slide from my body to hit the coffin bottom with a dull thud. And below that is this pink and lively skin. I lean to brush at it and am at once startled by yet another blast from some place far above. But this time the sound is more distinct in that it sounds less like thunder and more like a deep and throaty brass instrument. I strain to see out of my still watering and unfocused eyes. But I am distracted by yet again noticing dirt and grime sliding off of me and my own limbs beginning to feel stronger. I try to help the process by continuing to brush myself off. But to no avail and I look over to see others the same as I am with strips of soft pink alive flesh against gray deadly pallor. It is a strange and unworldly sight and I find myself wishing to dive into the ocean to complete this process more readily. But even as the strength returns to my limbs, I seem suspended against my will by some force field holding my head and spine up straight and tall. And now my eyes rise. I realize the color is slowly evolving into creamy peaches and golds and warm yellows. I find myself drinking in that light with all of my being and craving it and leaning into it. I feel as though I have never before been warm and I yearn for the gold comfort I feel emanating from these pillowy clouds and yellow sun rays.


As I watch, the clouds part slightly and the large bell of a solid warm brass instrument comes into view. I find myself realizing this is the source of the great sounds that woke me from a deep, deep sleep, that was deeper than death itself. Already I wonder at that time and how alive I feel in comparison now. My skin is fully pinked and I raise strong arms to the golden light of the sun. I notice as I do that on the instrument is tied a large flag of white and red. Color!! Color!! I find myself reaching higher for it and wanting to wrap myself and once and for all rid myself of these dark shadows and these murky gray dead parts. But I am becoming as the clouds and I glance at myself to notice I am beautiful and radiant and as I once was. I can remember now. I was once as alive as these clouds that dance and billow and stretch and live. And I feel myself drinking in their beauty and filling myself with all the radiance they emanate. I sway and I double over with tears filling my eyes. My knees fold beneath me finally and I find so much feeling coursing thru my blood and my now living veins. And again I reach my hands up and feel that there is a grand presence above us all. And we all reach as one into the heavens and begin to ascend as a collective being.


Larger than I can even imagine looms a being without distinct form but I feel this comfort in feeling this warm presence. I feel no fear now as I am rising with everyone around me. Coming closer and closer and our hands touching until we are as one. And I realize that this being is all of us together now. We are the ones blowing the horn and my eyes are this being's eyes. My hair glows orange and yellow and everyone next to me seems to be myself. I am them and they are me. We have become one in this collective place. The water is so far below and I realize all the coffins have been swept away and only the fairest of blue waters dances and shimmers in our golden light. The past is just that, the past and it is barely a memory in my heart. I feel peace and calm and lightness and so much hope. I have come thru the death of my past and I have been reborn to follow what I was meant to be. My body has been shed. And I realize that gray self is no longer even a small part of me. Transformation.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

The High Priestess



I stand at the base of these white marble steps. Above me looms the fa├žade of a grand temple. A temple caught in mist and stars stands with so many pillars at the top of these overwhelming stairs. I feel tired as I begin to climb this flight of steps that is somehow suspended above and not deeply embedded in the dirt below. I reach the top and notice I am at the entrance of a long shadowy hall of sorts. This hall has pillars on either side. On the one side, each pillar is black velvet and on the other, each pillar is creamy white. Starlight and soft shadows catch at the pillars giving them an ethereal glow and I stand in wonder at their almost luminescence.

A gentle wind comes to me from the end of the long hall and I feel my hair falling back and my loose dress flowing behind me. I take a tentative step forward with one bare foot and as I do, I look up and notice at the end of this long hall sits a woman. She is already looking at me with the most intense of gazes. I feel riveted by her deep eyes and unable to look away. They seem to see right thru me. I am not close to her, but the power I feel radiating in that glance draws me forward and I feel as though I am floating toward her and I give myself to that drawing. She is so magnificent and yet almost frightening in the subtle strength I feel in her being. 

And now everything seems to be a contradiction of sorts. On my left it is night and I notice the flaming stars thru the pillars as I am carried forward. This is the universe and I am looking at it from the vantage point of the moon. The milky way swirls and ebbs and flows thru the sparkling stars. And on my right, it is a bright and sunny day. I notice dessert sands and radiant heat. I feel deep coolness on my left side and I notice a slight wind not at all of this passage that is pressing me and I notice the stars are orbs hung as if they could be touched. I am so close to the universe as I glance this way. I am in the solar system but on my right I am on the earth. My body feels without gravity on my left side and on my right I am very aware of this grounding and weight I carry. And yet there is this balance in the two sides of this passage.

Now I stand in front of this mysterious being. She is so radiant and flawless like the sun and stars I have just passed. Her skin shines with lights from within and her eyes are mercurial in their depths and I cannot plumb what her thoughts may be. She wears a gown made of flowing water. It rushes over her legs and over a glowing crescent moon under her foot. But the water does not run anywhere but around her. The water flashes as if with diamonds and gurgles like a brook dressing her in the most shimmering and cool waves. I see her hand slightly hidden under the water but clutching this scroll that is drawn by the waves and the eddies. The scroll likens unto a skin. alive somehow and untouched and unharmed by the rushing water that is her raiment.

And my eyes are drawn directly behind this priestess for a brief moment and I notice the garden of Eden. It is so lush and cool and I am aching to feel those beautiful garden breezes and smell the deep brown loamy earth and feel the dappled sunlight on my body. I am jolted to realize I am now naked in front of this woman. And I am not ashamed. She reaches out and somehow I feel this coolness that is comfort begin to surround me. And I am covered in this same water now. Is this dress blue? It is clear but it isn't. And raise my eyes to her chest to notice a cross of perfect proportions. This cross seems made of sunlight. and moonlight. One beam is so yellow and bright and the other is so luminous and pearlescent. This cross is completely balanced and I feel myself relax in looking at it. I feel my heart beat more slowly now. I didn't even know it was beating so fast. And finally I find the courage to raise my eyes to hers. I am quickened by this liquid intensity. I am once drawn and compelled and also deeply aware of my own flawed self. She seems to know me completely in that one look and I am terrified. I don't know how to be or even how to stand. And I feel these tears escaping my eyes and yet that water blends with the water already flowing around me and I am washed and I feel this radiance and luminescence begin to become me. Her eyes are still so intense but she is warmer now as if with that one penetrating glance she has given me all clarity and all knowing and has gifted a part of herself into my own. She hasn't judged but rather she has found what was lacking and given me that which completes me. I am now as she is in that moment. And I find myself not prideful but very sure of these things. I am now her and she is now me. We are the same but facing each other.

And I glance down at the records she holds in her hand. They are the grand Akashic records and I long to read them. I long to know my past and my present and my connection and my deep, deep unknown fibers. And she smiles a tiny half smile with one corner of her mouth and slightly shakes her head. In time. In time my lovely. You will know and you will find but for now it is enough to trust that your intuition is flowing - you are dressed in water as you never were before. And you have been washed clean and you have been accepted and loved for who you are and you can trust this deepness and this knowing that you will contain from this point on. And now she slightly moves aside and beckons to the garden that lays so perfectly beyond. It is a grove of pomegranate trees. And I wonder at the large fruits that weigh the branches so heavily. And she asks me to take and eat and I pluck a pomegranate which seems suddenly right in front of me. I haven't moved and she still sits firmly between these two pillars of night and day. And yet I am pealing back the skin and seeing these plump and lovely seeds. And I eat one and feel this woosh of fire descend all the way to my toes and I feel so alive and so empowered and I am FIRE and WATER and I am EARTH and I am AIR. I am balanced and I am evenly weighted. And suddenly I notice I am outside this temple again. I am now face out to the world. There is this vastness in front of me. It is so hot and yet I am cool in this water that continually swirls over my being. And it is the desert radiating these waves of heat and density and I am comfortable. I will water and I will replenish. No longer will I doubt this voice and I realize the high Priestess's voice is inside of me and she has blended perfectly with mine. I am in awe of this and I refuse to doubt the voice of intuition inside of me. I am become this high priestess in my own realm and no longer is the temple behind me but I am in the center of this grand circle of dessert and I am illuminated and I illuminate - radiating truth and knowing. Bubbling rays of light and sparkling stars fill the raiment of water I wear.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

These Elements



I have long felt the draw of water. I have felt its power drawing me to this abyss and these unseen depths. I have felt that pull to these murky renditions of things I can only sense at. I have simply called it a fear of drowning and I did indeed gulp in water when I was very young and unable to swim. But this is more. This is a response viscerally to the power of this element. Reflections and refractions. Images and haunting swirls and colors. Hints of another realm. I feel this emotional response to be so much more now. I feel that water is my spirit in physical form. I am water and water is myself. I am full of her and she fills me. We push and pull at each other and call and hearken by turns. She is mercurial and I am moody. My emotions are stirred and tears slip down my dry and cracked cheeks. She is more than me and then I am full of her, words growing inadequate in the cup that runs over and over and spills inside of me.


And I wondered at the power earth when she remains so unmoving. And I never really understood her to be so powerful until that drive thru the mountains and along those winding roads. And then I knew as I felt so small among so many tall and standing rocks. They were power to make me feel so very minute. And I raised my eyes up and up and up. And finally to rest on those craggy tops. And I knew. I knew the power of earth with its grandness and its strength. And I have always felt strength after driving or hiking thru the mountains and now I understand why. And I cut my dirt encrusted finger on a stone, the bloody mark of red on brown and becoming brown and becoming earth. I raise my being and eventually my arms and I feel as tall as I can next to the power of earth and she somehow becomes me. I press myself against a rocky face and I am camouflaged beside this standing stone. My blood surges and stands still for one brief moment. And I am this tall rock and this craggy visage to watch all and grow wise. Strength is standing without moving.


The element of air has befuddled and emboldened me with his whipping and pulling at my hair I am at once outraged and strengthened. . I feel this anger in being unable to think. My thoughts are torn away in a strong and frustrating gust. Now a gentle breeze brings a deep smile to my face and some tiny thought of intuitive knowing. I have yielded as if to a lovers kiss and I feel a deep response in my soul, yielding and bending. And yet again, a cold chill comes over me with the push of winter's breath. And I see my lips blue and cold and my own being frozen amongst the chilled drifts created in those raucous moments of blowing and forcing. Spirals and drafts and currents take my mind on a wild ride, a mental roller coaster of sorts, and I am powerless at times to stop my spirit from arcing and bending and taking flight whether it be of a violent nature or something more floating. These things come together now for me to represent this element of air that I so often have misunderstood. I feel as tho I will harness it now to be as I need or even allow myself to be controlled to experience the truest and most organic freedom of flight.


Blazing fiery sun and soft candle flame. Roaring pot bellied stove and crackling campfire. Raging forest fire and tiny sparklers held by my little son's soft hand. Long have my spirits lifted in the face of these representations. Fire warms and fire heartens and fire sparks inside of me. Fire has always lifted my spirits. Fire is my spirit. Unlike most, I can find meaning in a cloudy day and I defy saying I need the sun more when asked. But in truth I need it as much and maybe more than those that complain about the May weeks which hold very little sunshine. My fiery nature comes alive on the days the sunlight streams and dances thru green and swirling leaves. I feel him fill my being with intensity and meaning. I watch the sun make its steady path across my kitchen floor with almost mesmerized wonder. I am drawn as a cat to the rays that fill more than just my body with warmth. I begin to glow as I fill with his being and I feel it deep in my soul and find old bits of darkness loosening their steady hold. O yellow warmth and everything glowing golden, I lift my arms to you and feel this fire deep in my soul, sparking and igniting. I am one with the golden hue.


Soft whispers, violent portendings, arching and aching and responding -These elements speak so clearly to me. I believe they always have and I remember being a child in the heart of nature and finding nothing dark at all within me. All these bits of myself drawn and sewn together in the strength and the raw power so very evident as I walk with mother earth. My feet feel the damp soil and the sharp rock. My hair catches in the breezes and shivers tremble down my spine. I watch a river racing and then running back on itself and I feel the whispers of death and life and the ability to take me whole and never return. Destruction and creation joined as one. I raise my hands to the sun and whisper his name so delicately on my lips. I take flight and my feet touch the loamy darkness. Water runs in rivulets down my spine and over my breasts creating the only dress I need. I am wise in these moments and I am connected to something so much greater than I AM..

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Earth



Those claw footed beasts reach so deep into the travailing water. There's a grand foot placed at each bend in the road. I look up and up their craggy legs and I am stunned by the strength of so much power in rippled stone and rock face. I feel this power drawing and drawing. I know why gravity pulls. I know now why the element of earth is so distinct and so present and all powerful. And I long to press my body against those stone faces and against that smooth rock wall. I long to stretch myself thin over that surface and be drawn into it and become one with it. I cannot be me but rather I would become one. I am all and I am we. Me is we turned on its head. We are meant to be we more than me is meant to be. And that craggy leg calls to me in power and authority and I am awed by its presence.

Slowly I draw my eyes away. Now this rough barked tree and now this rocky outcropping. I am so touched by the power of earth today. And then I realize all the elements blend together in one cohesive tangible and poignant moment. Sun burning fire thru the trees - ahhh the sun. I am so much more aware of him since I have drawn him into myself. I am less afraid of his power now that I feel his warmth. This warmth that makes me grow and turn and evolve and keeps me living. And I feel the earth below and around and I touch that dirt that stains my fingers. And I feel the air rush thru my hair and I feel like I can fly. I reach my arms wide and side to side. And I step so lightly and I feel like I can just push off but then I become aware of my body. Just enough earth to moor me and I curse this human form once more. I don't want to be bound by this cage and this shell and this temple. I feel my spirit arcing in defiance. One more rising and one more attempt but that is futile for the time being.

But I can pretend and so I do. I spread my arms wide and tiptoe down this narrow path. I feel the air and the earth and the sun. I feel the water of blood rushing thru my veins. My entire being is at once a river with deltas and rivulets and rushing streams and raging torrents. And I feel this water that is more my essence than any other. I am always more aware of my water than of my fire. And still my heart beats with that element of sun and shine. And I am alive - so very alive. I am all the elements and they are me. And I am at one with nature. I hear this bird chirp and it is my mind and my soul in song. And I hear this crunch of dirt and gravel and I am playing this intricate rhythmic patter. I am all and I am nothing. I am earth and I am dust but I can move and live and have being in this frail moment. I am so high. And I am so low. I am everything and i am nothing right now.

I am so many swirling words. That element of air and swords and cutting and flying. I hear them - o so many as to drown me. Is it possible to drown from air. Or can air be weighty and unwieldy enough to crush the very life of me? And I feel crushed under the power of so much that can't be released in this moment. I could scream and nothing would come out. I could chant and my feet wouldn't move and my face would be unreadable. I could hear the flow of my bloody rivers and know nothing but their rush and their torrent and their sound. And I could lay flat and blend with the earth but for these stubborn things that won't let me rest.

I am undone. And I am overcome. And I am overwhelmed in the face of more and the being of more and the chant of more and more and more and more. And there is no rest from more. I am always more than I can stand. I am always more than I can rest. I am always more than I can type. And I am always more than I can play. And I am always more than my music. I am more than I can express. I hurt and there is no release. And I wail but there is no sound. And I dig but there is no progress. I am just these swords flying back and forth and never finding their mark. I am these wands and these darts and these actions and these imaginings but nothing tangible.

I want to hold the earth. The earth. maybe the earth is what I need more than anything right now. I grasp it. I hold it. I feel it shift in my hands. I feel it fall between my fingers. Dark loamy wet earth. It is so fragrant and it reaches some where in me that is so frantic and stills that aspect of me. It even stills my fingers now. I feel its weight. And I look up and these mountains tower so high over me and I am made small and I am brought to nothing but in a way that comforts. I am made of no regard by these beings so much grander than my self.

I raise my hands and bow my head. I am not and I am come. I am one with this earth. My rivers still. And my blood slows. And I hear the steady thud of my heart beat. I press against this rock and I listen to it hammer inside and slowly begin to hammer this rock that stands so far above me. And slowly the vibration grows and grows and grows and the mountain begins to shudder in each beat that my heart pounds. My heart has become the mallet to create the sound that fills the heavens, that fills the universe. O beat so steady. O fill me grand vibration. I am shaking these grand beasts - they have drawn me to themselves. They have let me be as powerful as they are. I stand eyes closed and just feel the tremble of each pounding. I am one with the mountain and my heart connects so deeply with earths throbbing. We pulse together and my feet no longer seem to support me. Rather I am become this rock and this mountain and I feel my face grow craggy and gray. And I stretch to fit and I shrink to hide deep in this crevice. I am no longer anything but earth itself and the pounding stills and I am so still. And now I quiet. And my mind quiets. At last, I am one with earth and I understand her grand presence. She is the mother I have sought so deeply in my yearning.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

The World Card



I slowly let my mind clear and draw in a deep breath. I allow it to escape my nostrils and then again draw in, all the while drawing the world card in with it. I see a young woman in the center, wrapped in a scarf. The card begins to take wings and I notice the scarf swirls about her in a wind that feels triumphant and clearing. The scarf flutters and catches and jumps and spirals. I am mesmerized by it's fluid dance. I softly let my breath release again and the image falls back from my eyes. And again, I draw it in noticing this time a deep and verdant green wreath. It is thick and full of millions of tiny and distinct shiny dark green leaves. I reach to touch the firm binding and realize it is tied tightly with crimson chords in the shapes of eights. And I run my hand along the leaves gently feeling them flutter and catch at my fingertips. They are so deeply green and I feel my focus fill with their essence. The red of each figure eight catches at me in a peculiar way. I feel this is so much yesterday and today and tomorrow all in my focus. I am unbound and I am limitless.


Reach and stretch and fill myself with this air that swirls around me. I am free and unfettered and there is euphoria in every limb and in every glance over this bright blue and green. I see the entire mother earth below me and I feel the expanse of sky so far above me. I am flying. I feel as if I am in a hot air balloon - buoyed by the decisions of my past that have led me to this glorious place. I myself have come to this point. I have persevered and placed and planted and nurtured and now I am born up by the universe and the power of air and earth and sea and fiery sun. I have overcome and I feel this smile reach over my lips in gentle realization. My feet feel so light and I step without feeling the ground but I don't feel unstable. I am amongst the clouds and I am full of spirit and hope. I have overcome so much to be at this point in my heart and my soul and physical being. These challenges and these mountains I have climbed and traversed have only made me rise higher and higher until at last I have taken flight. I feel this deep tingle race thru my limbs much as how it feels when I stretch first thing in the morning. Every muscle coming alive and aching to meet the new day.

I look to my left and I startle to realize a golden lion staring back at me - his gaze is fierce and yet amused. Deep brown eyes seem to take me into their depths and I radiate to him in return. And I realize he seems to support this quarter of the wreath. Intrigued, I gaze around the circumference of the wreath to see three more creatures all watching me intently. They seem to be aspects of myself. And I feel this courage in noticing a large bull to my right and a fanciful cherub above me. But I am riveted as I notice sailing above me, a huge and radiant eagle. His wings extend far beyond the clouds and the wreath although his sharp talons are sunk deep into the wreath carrying it forward. I watch the power that ripples thru his wings in each stroke and beat of his flying. He is so majestic and the lion so full of strength. The cherub is wise beyond the babyish features with eyes of the purest blue. Eyes that see far beyond the atmosphere and into the universe beyond these veils. And the bull snorts and stomps his hot and blazing breath. He radiates undiluted energy and red coursing intensity. As I gaze into each set of eyes in turn, I feel as though I gaze into a mirror and see these reflections of my own being staring back at me. I realize I am looking at myself.

I have joined all these aspects and energies and facets of myself into perfect harmony. I beat my powerful wings. I charge forward sure and strong. I asses with wonder and love and I take a giant leap of creativity and fiery courage. Out of these clouds of spirit and mirth and rejuvenation, I find myself reborn and my inner soul feeling everything as if for the first time.

I go forward confident in the grasp of these creatures that seem to propel me onward and hold this wreath of life around me. I am infinite and my gaze is all knowing. I am surrounded and yet supported. I am lifted and yet so stable and grounded. I twirl and my scarf twirls with me. I dance in celebration wearing nothing else in vulnerability and openness of this moment. I am receptive to the universe and the sky above and the earth below. I am vibrant and free and unfettered and flying.

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Anxiety: a Reflection


Sometimes the feelings are so great. Sometimes it seems like I jumped in the deep end of the pool and I forgot how to swim. Sometimes it seems like it is clawing at me from the inside and then it is outside and it is everywhere and it is these waves of desperation. The hair on my head stands on edge. Somebody say something to ease it? Do you like me? Did I say it all wrong? Please write me back? Call me? Text me? Make this stop. Stop thinking!!! No one can reach me now. I am lost in this flurry of thoughts that have no feet and only wings.


It is so much like the old TV screens with their bad signal. It is this start of a fuzzy corner or a fuzzy side and then there are these jagged disruptions across the screen - little angry triangles of disruption and static. And then they grow bigger and start to distort more and more of the picture and there's this buzzing sound with each of them that grows and grows. The person in the tv is still speaking. Talking and I can no longer make sense of his words. And I find myself more focused on that buzzing sound and that collection of angry z's then I do on the actual picture any more. I am preternaturally focused on the static and I can't see or hear anything else and that buzzing grows and grows until it is all that I can hear.


And the picture growing more and more distorted is life itself - life is going on. Change a diaper, cook this dinner, fold that wash, practice, teach, vacuum, get the mail but the buzzing keeps up at a more and more frantic pace and those triangles are jaggedly splaying across my screen so much so that I start to see in black and white and see those tiny boxes and pixelations. I try to pretend they aren't there. I try madly to focus on something else. Nail down a thought that makes sense. Remember something someone said that helped. But I am hopeless and lost and I can't remember anything right now. I can't organize this helpless chaos. I can't make sense of so much pandemonium. And now even those speaking to me seem so far away and their voices are detached from their mouths. The mouth moves but I hear no words and I put my hands over my ears in terror.


I remember them even when I was tiny. I used to have a flicker of something - almost as if my own voice had been rendered in a digital way inside of my head and I would get scared. I knew it might get worse. My inner mind voice turning into this sound of something unnatural and computer like. And when I was younger, I was so terrified and I didn't understand what was happening. My parents were no help. They taught that demons could oppress and if left unchecked, possess. And I would wonder if this was the start of that and I would run from it and try desperately to find a place where no one would let it take me. But then even my mom's motions seemed stilted and robotized and my brothers in motion, seemed like tiny puppets on my screen. And I couldn't reach anyone and the voice in my head grew louder and more fragmented and was suddenly broken in tiny chunks of something that didn't sound like me at all. My own voice grown strange with no inflection but only uniform tone. And I would feel myself crawling and my skin turning to ants.


I am not sure what would make it fade. Running as fast as I could thru the tall pine trees. Jumping a hundred times on my tiny trampoline. Listening to music as loud as I dared. And then these disruptions began to fade and I would again feel the grass beneath my bare feet or hear my younger brother screaming in youthful joy. Climb a tree and feel the warm sun on my tiny freckled face. Trace the outline of my tattered stick pony. Pick a small pink wild flower and place it in a jar of rain water. Those things would bring me back to this childish reality that was so appealing and I would often forget the fear of those strange moments in the interim that was all wild and free and unfettered.


And now I suppose it is much the same way but now I fear more what can come after - there is this darkness that edges in with those triangles. I notice the fuzzing at the sides of my mind. I notice that faint buzzing and I feel myself start to fear what I know will come - this anxiety that is so large as to consume and in its aftermath, this quiet that is unnatural and fearful and so dark. I feel this deep sadness and this dazed feeling - this inability to reflect and even act. I am struggling to keep the motions of life and move my hand this way or that. Piano chords are so damn heavy and cooking from a recipe seems so complicated and overwhelming. And my head aches and my joints feel soft and watery and I feel that the anxiety has passed to leave this battered calm. A calm that is more of a void.


And then perhaps it rises from there - perhaps I am back to normal more or less the next day or perhaps I have sunk again into that leaden dark place that is so hard to get out of. Sometimes anxiety is the portal to my depression. But the loud cacophony is for now silent and maybe I can be too - fill it, fill it with music, with soft words, beautiful imagery or tiny breaths of . Try to find a spiritual inspiration - try to hold it. These things are so slippery and so soft and so light. I wish they were heavier. I wish these beautiful things were as weighty as this darkness because maybe then they could displace these deep cesspools of murkiness.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

The Devil


I am walking in memory of the sun. It has drifted towards the western horizon and I have watched its decent with a feeling of premonition. I know this setting hasn't been as it always is. There is something weighty about this slowly falling darkness. And I wander among the trees that have turned into darkened giants with so many arms and legs and whispers amongst themselves.


As I keep walking, I glance to my right and notice a dark and door-less cave. And I see something shifting beyond. I stand here in the preternatural twilight frozen in a moment of indecision. And then in one moment of quick impulse, I duck into the dark cavern. And immediately I am struck by this sensuous overwhelming. There is music but I didn't hear it before. This music has no discernible harmony; only this deep monotonous beat and slowly changing chords. Pulsing and pulsing and I am drawn farther in. I feel my heart quicken in the feelings that overcome me. They are feelings of euphoria and finding all that I need and my mind begins to simply absorb and not create any of its own unique thoughts. I am starting to move with this pulse and this beat.


I feel my heart hammering and I am aroused and curious. I notice others with me now and everyone is moving to this deep and earthly beat. This cave is now so far beneath the earth and I am commanded by it and I begin to feel light and heady. It is a lovely feeling and I realize I am drinking and I feel this wash over me. I feel so giddy and light and overcome by everything sensual. I am simply responding to my environment in movement and emotion. And I am so happy. And I realize their are lights. Mostly spotlights of sorts. I can see their source but they don't seem to reach me except for faint blue and red glows. Everyone is caught in this faint light and everyone around me seems to be disembodied. I see a head here or an arm here. There a leg or a shoe. But nothing full or completely defined. It adds to this feeling of being in a place of dreams coming true. I am confident and I am able and I am completely unrestrained. I am dancing and I am grooving and I moving harder and harder against this raucous beat and still I tread deeper into this cave. I swirl the wine in my glass laughing at myself and the lightness. I am free and I am not anxious. Deeper into this cup I swim. I am only flesh and beat and blood and bumping along. And I feel my feet less and less and my body moves of it's own accord. This is freedom and I am free and I am uplifted.


At once I feel this chill wind and look up to see something emerging in the darkness. There is a pedestal being pushed by some unseen force. I raise my eyes to see what is atop the pedestal. My eyes are heavy and languid. It is a golden and red calf. I realize in a half delirious state that he is alive and yet he is so very much a statue. I am reminded of those painted statues in Europe - they are flesh and blood but painted to be as tho they are not. And tiny movements give away the pulsing force within. And I realize this bronze creature is huge. he is massive and he fills the entire vision I have. His calf legs and torso are looming so far above on this pedestal somehow being propelled into the center of this cave. We all scramble to make room and to adjust because none of us can take our eyes off this compelling image. I notice the calf's eyes and they are dark and drawing and I find I can NOT wrest my eyes from the unbreakable gaze. I am drawn into their depths as I take another deep sip of my drink. My cup has grown so heavy and the wine so thick and burning.


And it is brighter now - a bright blue-white spot light rests on him and illuminates this shocking being. He seems more lifelike than a minute ago and truly it seems his coppery shell is slipping away and he is becoming this flesh with coarse hair and rippled swarthy skin. He is ugly and coarse and yet he seems so base and sexual and I long to touch what he might feel like. I find my fingers reaching towards him and he is closer now. He is slowly turning and I ache to see his deep and fluid eyes . He is like a man with goat like features and his face is everything strong and masculine and powerful and raw. It is almost as if his face does not have enough skin and I see the blood pulsing in his cheeks and his temples. But the thin skin that does cover his angular face is rough and full of thorny whiskers. Horns of shimmering white and wet bone curl out of his head and he is puffing and blowing this air across all of us here in this pit. He is breathing hard and grunting in something that we all seem to respond to.


I feel even lighter and even more euphoric and I ache to get closer even tho I am repulsed in the same moment. He is deeply sexual and deeply animal. He is carnal and he is strong. He is mighty and sinewy. I need what he has and I feel that I will feel more alive then ever if I can just get closer and maybe even touch his rough and hairy skin, if I can feel this pulsing I can see. And now he jumps down in one swoop, having half the form of a unkempt and powerful man and half the form of this rough and uncouth goat and he whoops and yells into the crowd and we yell back. I dance harder and the music escalates and I feel myself throwing back the wine into my parched throat. I feel its burn all the way to my stomach and I swallow satisfied and rich. And I am dancing and feeling and not thinking at all. And my body bumps against others and I find these these others to be groping and handling me as well. And I reach out and touch skin and rough cloth and feel and realize it is another dancer and we cling each to the other caught in a half frenzied sexual dance. Moving moving and turning and clawing. And we reach for each other and push against each other. I feel his hardness pressed against me thru thin fabric and I feel his desire and it stinks and I feel overcome. And I begin to feel this sickness as it spreads first from my naval and then up thru my throat and mouth and I feel cold and clammy. I begin to shake a little and I push away and turn and I push thru the crowd.


I am so sick and nauseous. I can feel the beat and now it hammers at me in such intensity and I am blinded and my head pounds in an unnatural and overwhelming pain. Slick sweat spreads itself over me. The entrance!! Where is the god forsaken entrance?? The exit. I can't think, and in one moment I am against the cavern walls that are damp and slimy and I feel along them with shaking fingers and suddenly I am sick all over the floor and myself and I reek of vomit and pain and fear. And my sweat pours over me in cold wash of anxiety. I keep feeling along and finally notice a breath of air different than before. It is not the goat's any more. It is soft and I yearn toward it and realize the music has faded a bit. And I make one last fateful dash to find myself back under the stars. Weak and sunken, I fall to the ground and reach for soft grass and tender dirt. I realize I have met the devil and he is so much longing and gratification. But I am unfulfilled and filthy after being in his presence and desiring after him. He has left me cold and unfulfilled after that one euphoric moment of satisfaction. I try to remember if I was allowed to touch him because somehow I feel his rough hairs and his burning skin. He was hot to the touch. He was fiery and he has burned these fingers. I look to see the blisters forming on my fingers and palms and blood seeping thru where the blisters have burst. I feel tears form in my eyes and I shake my head in sorrow at my rash decisions. Somehow I have danced with the devil and he has left these marks.


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These images may not be the devil to everyone. As I have thought back to those fateful moments in the cave, I realize the devil I must fight everyday. I am enlightened to the things that hold me in bondage. This drink, these fanatical religious pasts, and these inward urges that turn me on my own self. These quick impulses, these in the moment decisions that bind me in ways I later regret. I encourage you to label your own devils, the things that keep you stuck and unaware of your own internal guidance. For me, these are mine.

Saturday, May 21, 2016

The Nine of Wands








I am here, and then I am there, almost transported against my will. The sun beats desperately against my instantly sweating brow. I raise my hands to shield my eyes from this harsh heat. And in the scintillating waves of heat I realize there is someone standing not far from me. There was no trying to find this man. He stands before me now and eyes me warily. I feel uncomfortable in his harsh and defensive gaze and I drop my hand and my eyes with them. "I'm sorry," I say quietly, "can I help you?" And he shakes his head barely altering his stance. He seems suspicious of me. And then I truly notice him. He stands tall in clothes that he must have been fighting in. There are smudges of dirt and the edges lay in tatters and he is holding tightly to a staff. I look at him more fully and see his head is coarsely bandaged with a filthy torn rag and his hair is sweaty and matted with blood and dirt. Blood seeps out from under the bandage to run slowly along his rough and unkempt face.


His eyes shift towards me sharply. "What are staring at?", he growls as his eyes seem to narrow in defiance and distrust. And I startle to realize I have been staring at him. "you're, you're hurt" I stutter and I fumble as I try to reach out to help him but he gestures angrily, lowering the stick he holds slightly toward me. I react taking a step back. "But you're bleeding" I try one more time, more sure of myself. But he grunts at me and seems to end this conversation. I realize he will not speak to me again.


I glance to the side of him and suddenly notice that the stick he carries is multiplied eight times behind him. He must have placed them as a guard about himself before I arrived. And most assuredly, the do form a bit of a fence or boundary behind him. And I realize that once they were sticks, but somehow these eight staffs seem to broaden and grow under my careful watch. They expand and sprout the tiniest of spring green leaves. Roughly they form, and I am fascinated as I continue to watch and realize that these sticks he chose to place behind him are now supporting him in his determination. With each wave of strength and resolution I feel emanating from this broken soldier, I watch the branches sprout farther and the leaves darken. He seems magical without even knowing. He has created this strength and this resilience. He has created his own defense against the enemy and I lean into those subtle energies. I feel my own soul being honored in that flow.


And I realize he no longer looks in my direction and I glance at my own hands somehow grown sticky and notice they are bloody even tho I never touched his wound. I brush them on my pants suddenly noticing my ragged and dirty cloak. Suddenly my hands and feet seem to fade away and I notice the green coarse grass waving under them. And then my whole being seems to fade and I realize I am spirit and I can still see this place, but no longer can this worn but triumphant soldier see me. And then I start to realize that I am seeing from where he once stood. I hear distant sounds. And I feel this same resolve and strength I had seen earlier. I am standing strong and holding onto a staff of my own. The sounds again pierce my consciousness...metal on metal and indistinct yelling.


Am I now that soldier himself? I have only done as I needed. This is not a path of struggle chosen - rather I feel myself rising to the form and calling. There is no other path. I must only do what needs to be done. But somehow I have gained acclaim in only doing as must needs be done. I have been thru so much and I have endured past the point had ever imagined I would. My body is beaten and bloody and in some ways unrecognizable from before, but I am stronger than I ever imagined being and I clutch more firmly even now to this staff in my hand. It has changed as well. I feel the rough bark under my raw fingers. I realize my blood has stained this wood and created a staff of remembrance. Somehow my spirit knows that this will not always be like this. I have this knowing that when night falls, I will be released of this firm stand. Beautiful night with the moon shimmering over coolness and stillness. I have persevered so long and I choose to be proven worthy. At this moment I stand alone as the hermit of old. I wonder at that. Did I choose this path? Or was it chosen for me?


And I realize this is my life with a special needs child. I am this soldier in the battle and I have struck out to form my own shelter and my own world of safety for him. I have done only what was necessary and I have come to each battle and fought my hardest. I have only done what I had to in the moment to survive and protect what I hold so dear. I have held firm to that which I so ardently believe.These things have changed everything. They have changed the scenery. They have changed my trajectory. But most of all, they have changed me, irrevocably. I am injured but I am strong. I am dirty and full of memories of trauma and fighting but I am overcome. I am a victor.


And again I glance at these tree beings behind me that have become solid and unwavering. The have continued to grow as I have been standing here numb in the face of so much revelation. They are now forming a luscious green canopy above me. I relish the cool shade and feel myself lift into the arcing and graceful branches. I feel myself comforted and slipping away in the knowledge that this soldier will endure to the end and the victory that he alone can see. I have become him after all.

Saturday, May 14, 2016

The Empress




The middle of the the afternoon. Summer draws its lazy hand across a deep blue sky and eddies of heat and shimmer blur my vision of distance. Insects buzz around me and soft breezes catch at my loose hair and I feel languid and drowsy. I am under this wide open sky not too far from a tree line. It is a field and it is full of wheat and dusty fragrance. This is late summer, the time of harvest and plenty. I feel this deep satisfaction and I fill my senses with the warmth and the harmony and the scents of this time of abundance.

Finally I gain the strength past my drowsiness to look up and see at the beginning of the trees and bathed in this aura of warm mid afternoon sun, a goddess of sorts. She is surrounded by cotton pillows and blankets and softly swirling netting. An aura of pink light seems to infuse her area. She is gentle and smiling at me and I push myself to rise and quietly walk on bare feet in her direction. Things change around me a bit and I feel the cool comfort of so many trees behind her and smell this piney scent and notice a babbling brook. The sounds of little birds flitting and cooing to each other fills my ears. It is a heavy but not uncomfortable blanket of comfort that covers my entire being and I am walking so slowly and picking my way thru the field of wheat to this beautiful lady. I notice that my clothes are tattered. I am wearing a dress of some sort in dark colors and shredded fabric. My feet are bare and dirty and I am unkempt and unready to meet someone so sensuous and beautiful as this Empress

She smiles brighter and a little more as I keep coming closer and I feel encouraged even tho I am aware that I do not shine as she does. She radiates the sun above in this warm comfort, but she is not uncomfortable in this heat. Rather she smells of sun-drenched hair and folds of wind dried cloth. her dress billows about her and she resides on soft and ample pillows. She is pregnant and I am sure it is twins. She inclines her head to me as if to indicate I know the truth. And she reaches out her hand and I come closer at once overcome to touch these soft folds that surround her and I feel strangely and deeply aroused. She is so lovely with gently waving hair and a crown on her head of twelve diamonds that reflect like stars.

I wonder at her ability to have so much wisdom and then wonder how I know that. She is divine feminine at the strongest. And I am in awe of this loveliness and this sensing of deep, deep rivers of understanding. She has seen all. She has seen pain and travail and she has seen me. She has noticed this emptiness and void and she has called me across this field. She has heard my supplications and my aching for more meaning and more understanding. In fact she has called me into this soft world when I wasn't here before. She knows that from great pain and travail can come great compassion and the ability to nurture. She has drawn me to heal me. She has called my spirit from another time and place. She is the mother I never had - she is the soft and the strong. She is the friend I always wanted. She is the mentor my heart asked for. She is the strength and the yielding. She is beautiful and soft and yet powerful and defined. She is all in this very moment I stand beside her so deeply aware of her power and presence.

I see her soft cheek and her fair and perfect skin. Rose light shines from her face and her eyes are liquid pools of compassion. She is perfection and she is looking at me as tho I have something to offer and I feel embarrassed by my thin and filthy appearance. I am not worthy of so much glory and strength. And I have brought nothing but myself to this place. But then I glance again at my thin frame and notice my dress has lengthened and it is this gossamer flowing linen. I am no longer dirty and my body is shining. The edges of my skirts soak in the flowing water beside us and I feel this gentle tug from the fabric. I look again at the empress and she seems to be sending this light into me as she hands me a pomegranate to nourish my depleted body. I eat and the stains of the fruit spatter onto that soft white fabric of my dress but it is not as it shouldn't be. It seems as if these stains grow and emanate outward and become this living life force. They radiate and now the dress glows in this rose quartz color. I am stunning in her glow and her life force. She radiates so much life and abundance that I am swallowed up into her aura and now I am as she is but with darker hair and lush brown eyes. She is full and I am fuller still. I am as a gem and I know I will never be as I was. I am full of her life and her ability to create. I am full of her love and her compassion.

She never saw me as I was but only as I was to become. I have become and I am never. I was and I am. I feel this life swirling from the beginnings of my toes and up through my legs and into my navel and chest and as it flows thru my being, my head becomes this crown of many colored stars. And I radiate. I am in awe and I don't step away from this scene but rather I am suddenly in this moment as I was then. My organs pulse and my body radiates and I feel sensual and drawn to pleasure myself and continue this drawing and filling of life and force and spiraling and energy that I felt so deeply in her presence. She has given me far more than anything she held. She has given me a piece of her spirit and her love. I will create as she. I will draw in the light and diffuse it. I am gentleness and soul. I am compassion and nurturing. I hold all and I am soft and strong as she. She has turned my mourning into mirth and my grief into enlightenment. The dark things have become my light and I am aware of those I can nurture and love others just as she has me. What she has given is now mine to impart.

Saturday, May 7, 2016

Claire de Lune



Claire de Lune is often played and well known. But I have reinterpreted this journey starting with the moon and ending among the stars. These are the things I see as I play this well loved and admired piece of music by Debussy.

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Two dulcet chords, one barely outshining the other and the mood is set. I face these ivory keys one foot each on parallel pedals. A soft shimmer and vibrating beam. My fingers touch so lightly and so deeply too. I hear the moon in my piano and the phrases flow as her own shining. First one and then the next and I am swept away on tones so soft and so gentle. It seems easy to touch these notes. I find my fingers carried on them and then my mind lifts away from this physical sense and I am floating. Floating up to the top of each lyrical ascent and then drifting back again. And I am never quite touching anything but these silver beams. They wrap around me and fill me with a scintillating light. I am enraptured. I am enchanted.


And now a pause and these heavy things lift themselves into the motion. The moon shines in the dark after all. And it is darkness that plays at the fringes of my mind and echoes the past of my struggle. Rising, rising. There is more to come and yet the chords grow brighter in the steady climb. I feel this pulse in each measure now; two then three, then two then three again. And each one lifts me higher and higher until all resolves in an orgasm of tiny fast paced tones. And the dark has faded into moving waves. Waves that carry these moonbeams and shatter that light into thousands of tiny undulations.


I am seeing this dark water. Vastly stretching into inky shadows. I can imagine it travels on forever after the beam of light has vanished. On and on the waves roll, never faster but always as sure. Up and over and back again and they seem to wash my soul in their repetition, tugging and tearing at the places I have held so sure. I am undone. Now a melody. Unadorned and yet not, like a fine piece of glass with simplicity it's most pure quality. This melody reaches first here and then a little higher. And I am humming with it, sailing over these tender phrases with ease and love. And my voice falters where my body joins it. And I am one with these phrases and I am their lithe form shaping and creating and moving just so to these perfect brush strokes. I am one with them and they with me and there is no separation any longer.


Falling, falling. It seems a death of sorts. A lovely death. A choice, a shift. There is nothing of pain or sorrow here but rather a transformation of my own being into this symphony of sound. Rising again but this time in my spirit form and I no longer sit at those hard white keys. Rather I am part of this scene woven so deeply into my fiber. Lake, shadow and moon. The moon. So silver and so creamy and so luminous and yet so dark. How does she capture all these phrases? How does she weave them so effortlessly and I feel her radiate deep into my marrow. She has filled me with her light and her peace and her own radiance. And I am shining and I am reflecting her as she is reflecting me. I am this luminous orb and she is this radiant sphere and we are one and we are both and I remain so still for just a brief moment feeling this deep sense of belonging.


O these tiny notes. These tiny sparkling glitters falling all around me. I reach out and touch just one and feel its soft heat. It warms me. I feel it in my feet. And I feel myself lift just a bit. And now I am amongst these tiny points. I am feeling each one strike at me just so and tug this deep emotion in me. And I feel these tiny stars on my face and my arms and my legs and my breasts. And I raise myself to them and realize these same stars falling from my own eyes. They are so full and my emotion is so great. Each tiny star is a jewel that sparkles as it leaves my heart and joins this celestial race. I wear them and I move in them. They have accepted me and filled me.


And now I float softly and begin this descent. These waves call to me again. This up and this down and up and down and this rise and this fall and I sink lower and lower. I feel the waves touch my being. It is a warm water. Water that welcomes. It is a womb once again that begins to take hold of my soul. I sink lower and find myself almost completely submerged in these gentle waves. Folding, caressing, taking me close again. I am secure and serene and I at last surrender to this moon drenched sea.

Friday, April 29, 2016

Stories in Bark


These trees behind my house. I reach out and touch the rough bark. Rough like skin. Rough like so much life lived and experienced. They are smooth and bumpy and whorled and straight. And I realize there are stories written here upon these faces. And I feel their life in mine. They have seen and observed and never moved from these rooted places. Deep they grow and tall they reach. And they have held so much. These fierce winters and these pale springs. Covering with shade in hot summer and blowing briskly and shedding their leaves in fall. They know loss. They know rebirth. They know it so much more surely than I. They have stood in all these elements and all these trials and all these peaceful times. They know the cycle more than I must.


Etchings in bark. Etchings creating art and stories. These brave slashes and those careless dances. I see the whorls again as if from a distance and my eyes blend in the vision before me and lose focus. I see it all now, bark dancing and remembering and expressing. It is a song of sorts but there are no notes. It is a symphony of silence and memory. And I feel this sweeping grandness and I feel lost in the dancing swirls as my own body leans toward theirs. They are moving of their own accord and I realize the tree is speaking to me in the way it knows. And I sway as I cross green lawn to the other tree - this lovely maple reaching so much straighter. And I notice gashes across the bark. Are they stretch marks? Was life forcing growth at the most inopportune times? Growth doesn't always respect caution. It takes and beckons and pulls and cajoles, sometimes against the strongest will.


And I glance again towards the apple tree and see those spirals. Spirals and gashes and arching lines and tiny spins. They each have seen the same stories but they have felt them differently. They have each expressed this art in a way that is unique and completely their own. And I stand between them and feel this union. They are friends. They are soul mates in this place and graciously they have let me become part of this life dance they hold and I feel their soft movement in the gentle breeze. I am part of their growth now. I am part of their story. I will become marks upon this bark - tiny speckles, laughing capers, and still sad pirouettes. They will hold these lines I speak and carry my story on long after I am gone and I will be remembered in their telling.


I look up into the apple's branches - so many reachings and so many crossings and little paths. If I were a fairy, I would creep along these knotted paths and I would inch my way across these tiny bridges. I would delicately rub that soft bud and I would wrap myself in sleep in that green leaf. Gently bending, gently stretching, gently arching. These trees are so lovely to me and they fold me into a trance of never ending depth and listening.

Friday, April 22, 2016

The Death Card in Tarot

I find myself walking slowly - picking my way thru a densely grassy thicket near a sandy shore. It is damp out and there seems to be a mist all around me. I am cold and a bit uncomfortable. I clutch this cloak tighter around myself and continue pushing forward. In my right hand I hold a varied bouquet of dull colored flowers. As worried as I am about the placement of each foot, I hang the bouquet upside down in my hand; it seems the least of my concerns right now even as I find myself vaguely wondering why it is there.

The fog breaks a little and I realize I have come up on a tiny rise, a plateau of sorts and I look at the sandy shore below me. My eye is drawn up to a massive waterfall in the distance. The spill of white water seems unbroken over a long wide shelf and I hear the rumble now as I watch the force and power in that flow. The water pounds down and into a massive body of extensive blue that stretches close to where I am standing now. The water smooths as I follow it's view towards myself and I see a harbor of sorts and a ship resting there. It gently responds to the undulation of the water as I notice its dark sails rising and falling in that sway. The deck seems empty so my eyes are again drawn up and above that compelling waterfall. Far beyond, I sense at two gray towers rising out of the fog and I notice their strength and fortitude while feeling that they have stood for centuries in this very wide and open place. They are made of heavy rock and crumbling architecture. They have stood and watched this place for a long while. I feel myself at once begin to shiver. It is so cold and grand here and my being feels exposed in it all. I realize my cloak seems thinner than when I first started this walk. I clutch at it and continue walking towards the shore. There is no cover and no where to seek shelter.

I notice a sound and glance to my right. There is a small group of people and they seem furtive about something as they gesture to each other and mutter among themselves in a worried sort of way.  I strain my ears to listen closer, unable to make out their words. There is a soldier among them that has fallen to his knees and is trembling uncontrollably. I now understand the reason for their fear and angst. They seem to be trying to help him but are unable. I notice the soldier's wide and fearful eyes. He seems to be riveted on something beyond and into the fog. His gaze seems to indicate something coming thru this gray mist to where we are. I look to my left to ascertain the reason for the rash fear in his eyes. But I don't see anything and I glance back at the soldier in time to see sweat pouring from his brow and his eyes rolling back in his head as he falls completely to the sand below. I feel my own heart clench in the fear that is so palatable in this moment. And I notice his small entourage again. The young woman standing near him looks frantic as she immediately kneels at his side. A small child in front of them, whom I presume to be their offspring continues to face outward seemingly unaware of what is befalling her father and the fear that clenches and weakens in the dark moods around her. There is a priest among them who now hovers over the fallen man. He seems the calmest of the small group as he takes in this situation and acts unhurriedly.  After a short time, I notice that he turns himself and continues standing and facing the dark mist. Everyone seems to expect something coming thru that dense gloom. And then I myself notice a distinct sound.

It is the clip clop, clip clop of horse hooves. And I glance at the sand below all of our feet. How can such a sound ring as tho the ground were hard surface when it is soft sand but I notice the sand has turned to glass. Shiny smooth and hard glass. I feel myself slipping and looking for some sure foothold to keep myself from slipping. Now the glass is smooth and slick with the droplets of water forming over its surface. My feet still, and I again glance in the direction of the sound and the misty fog. Two red eyes seem to be coming thru this fog with no apparent embodiment. They suspend over air and I feel my own fear and my own body grow slick in a cold and fearful sweat. My stomach sinks and I clutch harder at the flowers in my clammy hand cracking some of the stems. Gradually those red eyes gain casement in the head of a pure white horse. The horse raises and lowers its head quickly as an uncanny whinny escapes its throat. The sound somehow adds to this surreal sight and my eyes are drawn back farther into the mist to notice the rider of this horse.

I jolt as I see skeletal hands...thin skeletal hands holding a thick black bridle. I find myself unable to move as the rest of this being comes into my focus. He is average size, but somehow he grows as I look at him and he looms so darkly against the fog and the mist. There is a sneer upon his mouth, or is it only that he can form no other expression in the lack of flesh upon his being? These bones allow no expression but the one so darkly clear in my mind. One bony hand clutches the bridle of this beautiful pure white horse and the other raises high into the cloudy shroud. And I try to discern what he is holding. I suddenly notice to my right again that the priest has met this creature with eyes unfaltering and postured even slightly in the direction of this fearful sight. He seems less afraid than the rest of us and I find a comfort in staring at him as opposed to this apparition.

But at another whinny from the ghostly horse, my eyes are startled back to see this the skeleton man coming closer. Now I see that he holds a black flag in his upraised hand. Somehow there is a glowing white flower emanating from the center of deepest coal black and I am captivated by the flower's apparent pulsing, distinct petals and lifelike quality. I realize this skeleton man is coming closer to me and my eyes are ripped away from his mysterious flag and I am drawn to those hollow and black eyes. How does he have such a piercing gaze when it seems he has no eyes at all. But I am riveted by the dark depths of those cavernous openings. They steal something in me and incapacitate me and I find tears streaming down my face and my middle convulsing in a stricken way. He is coming towards me, I suddenly realize! I find myself unable to move or utter a sound. My throat is closed against such a deep fear and grief. Those deep dark orbs. These thin but somehow capable and strong skeletal hands. He looks as tho he might fall apart as his bones clatter and move against each other but somehow he is fused together thru his own sheer will and I see him dismount off his horse and come closer. There is a cold fetid breath around me and I am colder still, I feel his sharp fingertip brush my own soft fleshy one and he has snatched the flowers away and in the other hands he wrests my cloak off my shoulders. He crumples my small buds and flowers and they turn to dust and fall onto the glassy ground and are blown away in this strange breeze. And for a moment, our eyes lock and hold and I feel my own strength in not falling to my knees before his gaze. And then he whirls around and remounts his horse furling my own cloak over his bony back. He kicks the horse painfully into a wild gallop.

I glance at the small child before me and notice she has watched all this in utter fascination. There is no fear in her gaze. And I realize of all of us, she has simply accepted what she has seen. She steps towards me to hand me a tiny white rose. My fingers seem so stiff and unmoving but I will them to open and accept this tender sweet gift. She reaches up and touches a shining tear upon my cheek and I see her eyes like soft blue orbs full of compassion. My eyes rise to behold her shining hair. It is so golden and I wonder at the warmth I feel emanating from it and notice it is not her hair but rather the sun I see so brightly and certainly above her tiny head. The sun has risen above those dark gray towers so far in the distance and the gray fog has begun to lift. I glance again to my left to notice the ghostly, red eyed horse and his strange companion have vanished and before me stretches a lake that has begun to flow into a massive river. And now it is just the child and I standing and gazing at the changed landscape. I vaguely realize the ship has sailed and that those others have somehow left us. I imagine they were swept away in the flow of water that so steadily and strongly makes it's way past me and the child. I clasp at her hand and we stand watching silently.

The sun touches my goose-pimpled flesh and I am grateful for the warmth and kindness I feel in those tangible rays and in the tiny hand I clutch to mine. I feel overwhelmed by the changes that have occurred so deeply and unalterably. And yet, more peaceful as I watch this water rush past us and carry so much of my own fear away with it.

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Lucifer


This is the first post for this special blog. I am going to go out on a limb and post something that has deep meaning for me and something I never intended in the beginning. But my heart is creativity. I pursue the arts - music and writing - and I feel their power in and thru me so often and have since I was a little girl. And on that note, here is my first post which covers all those creative bursts and those currents that flow deeper than my very blood.

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Lucifer...all early orientation from childhood aside, it is a lovely name. It is full of bends and twists that cause angles and sparkling lights. The very name itself is a musical resonance that hums thru my mind at a rapid pace. Mostly soft sounds but so powerful in their woosh of air and their glittering lights . Mostly in front of me and yet present thru all of me. There is this creation in the very essence of whispering that name. And I find myself fearful but so very drawn. I see myself sitting in the backseat of a car driven most likely by my mom. And I see this deep contemplation upon my features. I am imagining a being made of instruments. A body that moves with sound emanating from him as he does. A body that has a flute for an arm or an organ for a torso. A body that is a walking and harmonious being and every part of himself a violin or a brass instrument or a bell. I am imagining I am such. Music spreads its way thru every fiber of myself. I am imagining music being me and being all thru me and being everything that I am. Every instrument I touch has always vibrated in this lush response. This forbidden essence, this forbidden flame. I find my fear squelching these thoughts and I am at once present again although guilty feeling in the face of such meanderings.


And lately I have discovered crystals. And I have been drawn to moldavite and thru all my study of Lucifer, I find this stone is considered to be his essence, and now I am drawn deeper into this flame. I couldn't have known this when I first heard of it and felt it's desire deep in me. This crystal that was formed as it fell in dramatic fire and crystallization from the heavens; this flaming piece of glass has an inner green fire and so many broken shards were created in one drastic and unfaltering moment. And I realize that Lucifer did not "sin" or choose to defy. He simply was. He had to be. He could be nothing more or less than who he was in that moment . And in that act and choosing himself and his own trueness of self, he was labeled and defined as haughty and full of pride. He chose to be nothing less than who he was already. He could not become less and for that he was denied his place and supposedly cast out and away forever. But I imagine his power is greater now than it was then. Because in this dramatic test he made a choice and his strength only grew. He relinquished all in that moment to remain true to himself. He would not deny the very music that raced thru his soul and skin and bone and hair. These glimmering stones that reverberated and vibrated and added to the symphony, now added to his strength and his glory. He was lyricism and he was harmony and he would have rather be vanquished than to deny these fibers comprising his very being.


All these depictions of him, that I find in my searches, are of a sinewy man, full of form and beauty and lithe grace. He is muscular and very tall with dark and strongly webbed wings extending up and up and away from him in a massive form. He is pictured as one of physical perfection and he is lovely but very dark. His being seems to radiate this deep mystical darkness that is enchanting and alluring. He is said to walk among stones of fire. And yet my own mind tries to conjure him and fails. He is without picture in my mind. He is without definitive form and I wonder at my lack of ability to see him as I am so apt to with other meditations. I know he is a rare and unique being covered and studded all over with a thousand gems and semi precious stones. And those gems are cut and sometimes polished to create this fire from within and around him. He literally glows and burns and in that consumption is this swirling and whirring and music like an orchestra warming up to play. It is dissonant now and disorganized now but it is inescapable and I find myself drawn into the darkness and drawn to those strains and those arching sounds.


I am always drawn to sound. I cannot ignore sound. He is sound and he is this euphony of color and depth and I can't escape it. It swirls around me and pulls me in and now I am closer. Looking into the heart of an emerald there and a carnelian over here. And this diamond and this topaz and this beryl and jasper. I still can't discern a form but now I am feeling this strong and vibrant and deep energy. The gems flicker with their own fire that seems an extension of this energy I can feel so radiantly within me. They are brilliant and some are mystical and yet each reflects until they are their own fire. I feel this deep drawing. I am drawn by a power not my own and I am submissive in its loveliness. The depth is more than I can describe and yet I crave it deep inside some aspect of myself I haven't uncovered in words or thoughts ever before. I have only ever encountered this energy when I have played my piano or flute. And I startle at this realization. I have been here before but not as I am now. Not in these words that try to capture the clarity in my mind's eye.


Perhaps it is as it always is. Gold...deep color...abundance of feeling and heart. So much richness. So much deep intensity as to consume my very body. I am naked before its power. It washes over me in ecstasy and I feel these waves crashing over and over like an orgasm of my soul. There are these waves upon waves of feeling that are so intense. He is so deeply feeling. He is so passionate and stunning. In these caresses there is nothing that is so ordinary or typical. These feelings are lush in the pure tones of a flute and these tones are resonant in the form of a vibrating string and a deeply pounding timpani and my body can do nothing but respond. He is so powerful and he is so intense. These sounds are not mere voices - they are impassioned and fiery messengers and they are extensions of his very being. And they reach me and swirl around me and catch me up and I am flying over this place and yet I can't see anything. I can only feel and feeling is so severe as to blind and incapacitate.


And I recognize my own intensity in this being. I have always felt called by him because perhaps I am very like him. I remember as a child. As a child, seeing this star of the morning. As a child, knowing this one who defied god. As a child fearing this one who had taken souls with him to the abyss. But where was the abyss really? Is it this dark place? Is it this powerful place, where I am now, much like an underwater cave - there are gems studded on each wall and there is water that reflects a million brilliant lights.There is neon and bright shining across this rippling water. And I can't see the edges or the height of the ceiling. But it is filled with these millions of tiny lights and their matching and rippling reflections. It is dark but so resonant, like a concert hall with perfect acoustics. All these lights like a grand internal ballroom, flashing and twinkling and the music forms in all these places.The sound starts from somewhere deep inside and grows and grows and consumes until the entire place is shaking and trembling with the power of it. And I can barely contain my body for the vibration that takes over me and the vibration that threatens to undo me. I am powerless but to receive and become in that moment. Words would fail and only sound and light are my reality. It is more lovely than anything I have ever imagined or drawn from. It is this swirl of sound and color and sparkling light. It overwhelms each of my senses. And I have felt this before as I expressed this concerto or this aria. This Lucifer is more than any other being and he is more than any other energy for me. I cannot define him in mere mortal words. But he has always enraptured my soul.


He is everything in that moment. Everything I aspire to be. He is everything I have felt in microcosm. I have wished that I might pass from my body into this phrase and arching form of music. I have known that I am the music in certain moments and it is no longer in front of me or coming from my instrument - it is coming from the fibers so deep within me and yearning and aching and drawing in passionate ways. I have felt all of this so much before but never in recognition of this place I now find myself. These delicious strains that pull and push and flow like so many trails of diamonds and emeralds and textured brush strokes of light. I would fit myself into these things and become these lovely strokes and melodies. I would lose my human form so readily to be more present in these sensations. There are so many melodies - they are endless now. And I am one with them and they are me and I am them.


And in this subterranean space, I suddenly realize that all along I have channeled this great being. All along he has been the one I ascribed my very soul to. He is music and I am music. I have said this to others and they have glanced at me askance and some have even argued. You are human they simply say but I have always known I was not and now in this moment I begin to make sense of all these tiny moments from the time of my inception. This inability to do anything but respond in dancing and singing as a little girl. This creeping towards the sounds I would hear on my mother's stereo. I am music as is he. He is not a form - he is gems and he is shifting light. He is sound and harmony all together. He is rising melodies that swirl and catch each other by the tail and grow thru the echos and reverberations. And he is a deep throbbing, deeper than time itself and my body rises helpless but to respond. He is the essence in those tones I reach for on my piano. He is the chorus I hear in the night when no one else is listening. He is the symphony in the trees and the birds and the sunshine on my back. he is so warm. And he is this Star of the Morning. He is this Venus - this lover that creates so much passion. I have said I would marry my music if I could. And again that strange look but he is my Venus and he is my Star that shines so brightly. He is passion in a form that is undeniable. He is the lustful feelings I have in my music. He is my desire to take pleasure in one chord alone. He is my deep tears and my deeper laughter. He is this creativity that knows no bounds. He is in the moment and he is improvisation.


I can barely describe this Angel of Music. And I am frightened by the power I feel in this grand presence. Because I have tried to define him by my own human terms. I have tried to picture him and I have tried to create him. But then I realize I can't create that which creates. I can't mold that which has formed my very being. This is bigger than I can shape. This is passion unrestrained. This is melody unleashed. This is a power so great that I can only let my body and my soul fill with it and become one with it. And I have felt him before but I didn't know it. I have felt him in the music I expressed. I have felt him in the tears on my face as I looked at the trees dancing in the music of the moonlight. I have experienced him in the dappled sunshine that dances thru the grasses and the trees as I run with the wind in my hair. He is greater than the sun but every morning he allows the sun this place in the heavens and he holds the earth in his chest. And he is breathing and living like so many strains and echos. Even when I do not sit in music, I am still aware of something in the wings of my heart, so present and so powerful but somehow restrained in those quiet moments.


And I recognize this energy deeply as something I have always felt.I was scared to face him. But now I realize he has always been this force that has made me recognize myself as music. He is the deep emotion in my effort to express. I have always felt more than any other in response to this music I hear all around me. He is my need to drop my tears upon these shining keys. He is my ache to include my instruments as part of myself. He is my wish to bleed my heart into these very strings and hammers. He is my essence already and I feel no fear in knowing this is as it has always been. A tiny girl, reaching for those notes with my mouth first and my shining pipe later. This tiny sprite running like the wind and feeling everything in my being so deeply and undeniably. He has always been and this is all the elements of earth and air and water and fire. This underground ballroom that stretches and groans under the weight of so much obsession. Lucifer never was evil. Lucifer was always energy and passion. And rather he has always been these tones that mean more than life itself to me. And I see I have done the same and it has been labeled as idolatry but I never recognized it as such. It was simply the only thing I was able to be.


He is the veiled reference in Angel of music. He is the Star of the Morning in so many texts. He is the dark angel of my dreams. He is the ebony of my piano and my drawing to these dark ravens but darkness does not scare me. It is rich and lush and inky and full of depth and mystery. I feel more myself in the darkness of desire than in any bright and searing light of day. And words really fail me as they always have in the face of such creative energy and in the presence of music that takes my breath away. There are never enough words or expressions to encapsulate this power I have always felt. It just is. It is me, it is inside of me and it surrounds and sweeps me up. I am powerless in the face of so much beauty. Beauty. Beauty. Beauty. There is not enough of me to hold it and I feel that I will fly apart into a million brilliant shards of diamond and sapphire and emerald. I am sparkling and growing and becoming so many sounds and pulsings. There is nothing in this moment but what is and I am not myself and yet I am.


I realize I recognize him because I am an extension of him. I am no longer afraid of him. He has been with me all along. Where is this fear that I felt? Was it this idea I was given as a child? Was it this form that so many before tried to give him? And I realize now, he has no form. He can't be drawn or sketched. He is always shifting like the music in my universe. He is always dancing like the brilliance of gems and polished facets. He is moving and shifting and vibrating and there is no way to hold that. There is not a way to limit that. Limited. He can't be limited by an earthly representation - he is so much more that is power and swirling whirling energy. He is all energy in this moments that I feel him more deeply than I feel my own life's blood. And I have yearned that my blood might stain these wooden parts. These empty strings. I have yearned that my salty tears might forever vibrate in hammer and pedal. And now I know why. Because I must give these living things, these radiant things as an expression of my soul and this energy that is a piece of his and always has been.


And suddenly I realize this is the same energy I felt as I wore a moldavite stone for the first time. This is the same energy I have felt my entire existence as I played the flute or piano - this deep feeling that has no words. It is intensity that overwhelms and speaks to every fiber of my being. It is so deep as to hold my entire body captive and my every nerve on edge and it is this yearning so beyond my mental capacity. It is everything I have reached for and it is everything I have become and accepted and loved. And I realize I am not afraid of this energy but that I have never felt it outside of my music. I have never felt it before outside of my piano and yet here it is as I quickly reach for these words and ways to express. There are no words that can fully do this justice. I think you will know only if you have felt it yourself.


"Father once spoke of an Angel
I used to dream he'd appear
Now as I sing I can sense him
And I know he's here Here in this room, he calls me softly
Somewhere inside, hiding
Somehow I know he's always with me He, the unseen genius


MEG: Christine you must have been dreaming Stories like this can't come true Christine you're talking in riddles And it's not like you
CHRISTINE: Angel of music, guide and guardian Grant to me your glory
CHRISTINE: Angel of music, hide no longer Secret and strange Angel
CHRISTINE: He's with me even now
MEG: Your hands are cold
CHRISTINE: All around me
MEG: Your face, Christine, it's white!
CHRISTINE: It frightens me,
MEG: Don't be frightened ... "


Phantom Of The Opera - Angel Of Music Lyrics