Tag Archives: politics

Logos: Pre-text, text, post text. Word!

An essential point of agreement – the obscenity of wealth distribution. Some of the wealthy are waking to their responsibility to others and enjoying their good works… its a start. The system is set up for some to have so very much more while others have desperately not enough, and nature is shafted; waste a way of life – we either change this, and have a better hope of ourselves and our next generations living in some sort of modern comfort , or we let it all wash away, be blown away, .. let nature take care of the blight selfishness is. We are one life force around the planet, one web of life. Those who cannot live with this as a guiding principle, cut themselves off from life. That will result and is resulting in their destruction. I live in the joyful knowledge of life in me – I regret that humanity might be wiped out by nature before our natural evolution – but that is what keeps me alive – the desire for humanity to live our full natural potential as celebrants of life’s wonder. I know you love so much of nature around you;  we just regret together that we are part of the human problem. Greetings friend reader.

The image is an exercise – take lined paper make three columns. Write words of significance in any order, randomly in all of the spaces. Allow your mind to jump from one word to another, writing as you go. Whenever you reach a pause in the flow, change the type of word – philosophical, topics of interest, important people – whatever.

Closing your eyes, touch the paper and record the word. Repeat two times.

Now you have three words.  Let a riff of thought follow and connect these words. I want to explain mine then record the word flow that resulted. I believe that Logos – word – is “god” . i.e. the human mind names and creates its world. The stories we tell ourselves create our life.

Mariette, my beloved friend,  aged eighty something, was killed by a car,  returning from  an evening lecture, walking from the bus stop to her home. She was a wonderful alive person and her faith in her Jesus was intense and personal.

Richard, my man, is deeply affronted by religion which he sees as causing much of the trouble in the world. It has been inflicted upon him by persons he could not avoid, including me. I want to show him the religious story I tell myself is not the one he cannot stand. I cannot stand the old man in the sky as anything other than a heuristic ( teaching device which simplifies complex concepts) either.

I think WWJD – what would the putative Jesus do – is a great question and i attempt to live my life by it. That is to do as the Quakers do – look for that of light in each person. Judge not that I be not judged. Love one another. Value and work for Peace. See myself as one tiny part of my concept of the divine – for me that is Life Force.

The words I happened to touch upon were Ego, Mariette, Jesu.  This is my word flow.

Mariette – dead, Jesu – dead. Ego – death to egoic blinders.

One and the same LIFE. Now they have my eyes, my hands, my thoughts. I commune with them and they with me. I imagine. I mage [magician]. I create. I story. My story – mystery unveiled. Weep and wail, gnash teefies. The dis-integration is frustrating. I know it. I live it. [ that we are one life force, one conscious biosphere, here from the beginning and here after humans evolve or die out, divine ]. The world I grew up in does not believe it. Cognitive dissonance. Headache.

I stand in my truth     with the sad heart of Ruth     in tears amid the alien corn,       I choose to be born again    as one and the same      with Him=my ideals.      My dreams, my childish screams     as they took away my right to play in the fields of the Lord   in the joy of the word…

THEY DID NOT  [ my dead in my head reject that blaming]

They just said grow up! Be Yourself! Know that what you know and are and see and feel    is your reveal for YOU     its true for You.     Dont make yourself blue     that you cannot prove this true.      Truth needs no defense,   it will out in the end.

Trees are alive, trees are my friend. My love there, solid and strong, frail enough in their own way, but singing my song. We are one. I AM one. I am fun…..[ doubtful sometimes]

My Richard is tall and strong like a tree, and I like a  squirrel unable to be as he    MUST see how his way is true for him – he is the balance of me, let him be, let him be !   See solidarity with those who feel free.  In time life’s unity will be seen again, we will befriend nature and others and learn how to groove    how to move   tall and strong like the tree that lets others be and does its own work, doesnt shirk, not a jerk.  Sees and believes in itself if I may, say so and so say.

SO what is MY work?  It is this ! It is bliss. It is logos expressing Joy in my song. It is Logos regressing. It’s taking to long    to go nowhere. NOW HERE !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I record this rubbish and post it as a blog because I want to encourage others who feel cognitive dissonance between what they were taught and what they feel,  who still feel that they have not really got on with what their life is meant to be, to trust their feeling of what they are meant to be doing. And its NOT about money.  Writing feels like life blood to me. I can hear the wiser voices saying, “Sure, but dont give up your day job.”

Comments welcome;

my website  http://www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Inside my Head, Outside the Box.

Inside my head, Outside the box.

Ibi, Temucuan goddess of water. I am your consciousness of yourself. I hold and use the sponge cut from the sea floor, I study its pieced structure and the thickness of the root from whence it sprung. I feel its life, no longer living but the trace.
I feel my hair like seaweed as the water moves it in response to my movement. I feel conscious of life evolving in the sea.
I connect with Life force in Water. Water is consciousness, water is life.

Thus I believe, and thus I behave, and thus I exult in life. This connection happens in its own way in all of us who love nature and our natural beingness.

The dinner party.
“Who did you vote for?” I ask the young woman, long time friend of my niece at Father’s Day gathering.
The men of my generation say no, no politics. I move to speak individually to the young woman, as my niece, Catlynn says, “We are grown people. We can talk without arguing.”
Vanessa liked no candidate particularly and voted for Hillary.
“And Bernie ,?” I ask.
She explains she didn’t think his policies were feasible, and mentions free education.
Richard now was able to explain that the free education idea is to educate all school leavers so they are able to work at a job of their choice. It would fund tech schools, and farm apprenticeships, marine activities etc not just colleges and degrees. The idea sounds excellent, and he goes briefly into funding options.

I like politics when people talk about what they want. Then, too often, they go into despair mode about the intractable nature of politics, corruption, media ownership, profit etc – all the reasons why change wont happen.
This is sad and SELF DEFEATING.

I believe the world can and will change – Eastern Inner Spirituality mingles now with Western Science. Humanity will learn through the crises we are creating for ourselves that we survive or go extinct as a species. I stay hopeful because I experience daily renewal of hope and consciousness in myself. I am that consciousness which knows itself to be Life. Not just human, and not even necessarily human. My human mind can think outside its own little human brain case box.

MrGrey bad butterfly

Image available at Carrollwood Cultural Centre Tampa, July and August, 2017 Fearless Fibre exhibition.

www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

You’re so in Love…

You’re so in Love …

“It doesn’t matter what you say”, said Karen. “You’re so in love……”
She stopped speaking. I made the namaste gesture and thanked her for her kind words.
It was after Quaker meeting. In the silence of the hour long meeting, people so inspired rise to speak words they feel, after silently considering the matter, have a wider relevance. This spontaneous outpouring of communication is heard and allowed to settle in the silence.
I had spoken of No Separation. Some such effusion as this:
“I AM god. I am what god is and so are you and so are we all. I am the consciousness that observes this marvelous earth. I am one with all life. I am eternally here because eternity is outside of time and ever now. “
I had sat down again. My eyes, closed throughout this speaking, remained tightly shut as my own words echoed in my own head. The living silence restored itself.

Karen, being one of the most excellent people in the world, was a major part of the reason I had started to attend Quaker meeting. I had met her on a protest march in the 90’s and learned about Quaker’s FCNL – the Friends Committee on National Legislation. This citizen lobbying group in Washington DC, present well researched position papers on issues such as why War is not the Answer, the implementation of just solutions for native Americans, effective climate policies and so much more.
(https://www.fcnl.org/about/policy/issues)

About 10% of Quakers are unprogrammed Quakers. That is to say – meetings are silent. There is no preacher. Those who feel so inspired can speak. Sometimes there are several “messages” and sometimes the meeting is a silent meditation. The experience of meditating together can greatly intensify the feeling of being part of that greater whole – the unified mind. The dear and brilliant human mind throughout time.

Later I wondered if Karen had been going to say You’re so in love with yourself – with the affectionate look one might give a ten year old.
Or perhaps she meant You’re so in love with spirit.
Or perhaps she meant You’re so in love with the world.
Nah true?! I might have said with a Jamaican twang – for all those are true.

 

Jamaica

When I was 28, I landed in Jamaica. I met Pun, a rastaman, who lived with his two daughters, in a one room wooden house on about 1/8 acre in the hills above the town of Lucea. The yard was a slope of hard, swept dirt, separated by vegetation and a gate from the rough track which descended from the winding road through Dias village. DIas consisted of a bar, a sundries store and some other casual window shops where owners would put out vegetables or what other supplies they had been able to get from the market. Sweetened condensed milk, and a golden yellow cheese were the kids favorite supply, but nothing could be relied upon. Locally grown greens, coconuts, bananas, ackee, spring onions, hot peppers and beans supplemented the “chinee rice” for most meals. Ital, cooked without salt, over a wood fire on the ground in the lean-to cook shack, and eaten from a gourd bowl, was memorably delicious.

When thunder rolled, Pun would say “Tell ‘em Jah Jah”. Pun would say, “Jah inna de waterfall” – when we visited beautiful wild Dunn’s River Falls before it was tamed with wooden walk ways, and tourist amenities. “Jah guide!” Pun would call as, I headed off for an adventure. “Give t’anks”, Pun would say in gratitude for every blessing.

One time our motorbike got a flat tire. “Give t’anks” , said Pun. “WHY ?” said I.” This is a pain”. He explained that we dont know what might have been waiting for us had we continued – maybe a truck drive into us, maybe a car taking a corner too wide wipe us out – give t’anks for every little t’ing. Everyt’ing always Iree.

Oh, with Pun, I gained a perspective that completely revivified the moribund Anglican faith I had deserted overnight after getting confirmed at age 13. My secret thoughts of being a nun vanished with first communion. There was nothing there.

“You are de living bible,” said Pun. “You know de trut’ in your heart’.”
“Burn Bible!” said Pun. “Word, sound and power!!”. He would have nothing to do with that book, tho he did not object to me reading it cover to cover. He knew the power of words to create and he believed in freedom.

Isaiah: “Surely God is in thee, there is none else.” God = Jah = O = cosmic egg of all potential, materialising and dematerialising here on earth.

 
God = Jah = 0

Rasta see Haile Selassi as Lion of Judah – the messiah. Anyone can see that if Haile Selassi is Jah, so am I and so are you.
In the teachings of Buddhism, I learned of non-duality. I see that I AM “god”. I am a little part of everything as the drop is ocean. I am Jesus – in this sense:
The likeness we bear to Jesus is more essential than our notions of him.
~ Lucretia Mott, Quaker. 1793-1880
I think ‘What would Jesus do?” is a great question and it is by this leading that I live.

Humans project our ideas of perfection on to some God figure of our own choosing, or some star, or some ideal notion of a human being. I believe with the atheists and humanists that humans have, what I call divine, potential. That together all our consciousnesses make up the divine godlike consciousness which is beyond our understanding. It has been here on earth since the beginning and is the cosmic “egg of all potential” which is eternal, outside of time, learning to know itself in the mind of human the destroyer; and wombman the creator. Male and female create we ourselves.

“There is something of God in every man, let us affirm it more certainly than ever, but surrounded as we are by millions of new-made graves and with the voices of the hungry and the dispossessed in our ears, let us not easily accept the impious hope that the natural goodness of ourselves is sufficient stuff out of which to fashion a better world.”
~ Gilbert H. Kilpack, 1914-1999

The above quote, returns me to humility. Evolutionarily, humans create their stories of gods and goddesses and these evolve. We need to evolve our story, to know it is a story which can only hint at a greater truth. That truth is coming to light in scientific discoveries – matter is energy, space is not empty, life is a miracle. We do not create matter. We are ( part of) life force – we do not create life. We can destroy ourselves. By destroying our ecological niche which is forever changed by the melting of the ice, we have set ourselves on a challenging course and we will need to tell ourselves a story of peaceful, joyful co-operation to survive. I see it everywhere I choose to look.

 

 

Confirmation Bias.

Believing is Seeing. I am 66. I listened to a Ted talk. The speaker asked, Do you want to win the lottery? My answer of course affirmative. The speaker asked, ”do you buy the ticket?”. My answer, “no”. She explained that our belief affects what we do. For the last 40 years, I have tried to write a book. She showed me why I was failing.

Barbara Marx Hubbard says, “What we focus on, we get more of – so focus on what works!!!”
I remain informed about politics, I vote in every election, and work for local candidates but I do not listen to the news of the current insanity which I am unable to affect. I listen to programs about new science, about inventions that ameliorate pollution, that create non-fossil power sources, that solve third world problems one village or one local issue at a time…

I see that humans are destroying nature’s bounties, overfishing the seas, maltreating food animals, cutting down the forests which are the planet’s lungs. I know the human population cannot double and survive the way we are living. I know there will be massive extinctions. I know my body will die.

“There is nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so.” A gift of twentieth century science is the realisation of relativity. Which aspect of ourself is thinking?

In the 16th C, when there was a great overturning of accepted notions, and the global expansion of western thought and hegemony – paradox entered the picture. Western world view absolutely contradicted the first people’s world view. Paradoxically, both are correct within their own frame of reference. The cultural brilliance of the west goes along with an expansionist and exploitative methodology; the natural balance of the first people goes along with a stability that does not lead to a separation from nature and the invention of industrial mechanisation. And in the East, the strength of tradition stifles freedom such as is found in the West.

 

I believe in evolution. I celebrate evolution. Evolution creates what is new and not before seen. Breathe in and rejoice in being.

chipmunk screaming

Chipmunk Screaming, is an art work of mine.

http://www.elizabethmitchellstudio.com

Real News is Old

I am delighted to imagine that Trump voters and Democrats would equally love and share a nature story. I said so at a party. The three people in the space, glanced up from their phones and said they just dismissed such stories and didn’t bother with them. I felt rather dismissed myself.  I spoke into the absence about how those who create fake news change it up slightly to suit consumers of every stripe. I had begun to wonder if the turkeys circling a dead cat  story ( see below fr link)  was fake news and a video creation. Google NPR “fake news” and find lots of stories – its not new.

I would like to enlarge upon my point – it is in our love of nature and our awe at natural beauty found in every blooming flower, in the beauty of weeds in the grass, in the stirring of wind in the leaves, in the soaring flight of birds, and the sweet soft purring of cats, in the joy of dogs, and the miracle of our human hands, that we will find solidarity. I celebrate this. I live in this awareness. It consoles me as I wake every day in a world going insane as it deserts the natural world in a mad rush for coffee and money to pay the bills. I walk in the park and give thanks, i rejoice to see children in the playground and parents of whatever skin tone chatting and watching. Life is full of beauty. May we be ready to share what we have. There is enough for everyone.

Meanwhile my art magazine talks of fake Brillo Boxes being sold for tens of thousands of dollars each, and oh what a scandal, some folk brought multiples of them for hundreds of thousands. This is wickedness.  Insanity. War and oil and excessive profit are the system we inhabit which is thank goodness, dying. In its death throes it is killing nature and people. We who are aware are the breath of the future. Breathe in mes amies, breathe out the madness, breathe in delight. Breathe out the sadness, breathe in and hold space for night which is always followed by day, here on earth.

http://www.npr.org/sections/alltechconsidered/2016/11/23/503146770/npr-finds-the-head-of-a-covert-fake-news-operation-in-the-suburbs

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/2017/03/turkeys-circle-dead-cat-viral-video/Sam moon 3

I AM -Je suis – Jesus! me!

“That’s terrible, see how the Democrats have failed us,” they cry.

“But Trump is letting the insurance companies WRITE the laws,” he said. “You people are so dumb. You are so full of hate and bigotry.”

“ That’s terrible – that’s why we voted for Trump”, a woman had said after hearing about the 60 -80 hour shifts, the dust filled atmosphere, the lack of safety and health precautions, the healthcare provided by the factory which had a $10,000 deductible and no co-pays so workers were unable to see specialists because they could not pay full freight. Their meds had been provided by the factory’s clinic but recently that had stopped too, forcing them to pay full drugstore price.

“That’s terrible, that’s why we voted for Trump”, a man had said after hearing about the insurance policy which did not pay for water damage from seepage unless it was reported within a week of the failure which caused it; which unfortunately had been unavoidably invisible behind a retaining wall.

Divided, we are overruled, and the war against an earth restored goes on.

““““““““““““
“There is no old man in the sky. God is a fiction”, he declared.
“I am god and goddess; nature and humanmind; I am divine in my Totality, and oh so frail in my human egocentricity, which sometimes sees how it is divine”, she replied.
“Go away”, he said, and returned to reading his car magazine.
She walked and admired the squirrel’s nest in the leafless tree, thinking of rocks for pillows, and Finn MacCool nesting mad in the tree, poor unhousel’d wretch. Her mind danced through its cultural references with delight and joy. Anima Mundi flowed through her all day long in moments of bliss in nature, music and art.
When humans are gone, the birds will have to contend with the housecats. Human awareness will be gone along with our ecological niche. Unless we can evolve and become divine – one glorious rejoicing mind.
A smartly designed car passed, she gave a thumbs up to the driver, a young man on her block. She appreciated car design since being with her old man. Her divine mind rejoiced in human invention, grieved at human destruction, breathed in knowing I am Life Force itself, ever here, everywhere, and longing for all to know this glow.

““““““““““““
Listening to a program about fighting cyber crime, she could see the ever escalating madness, the inescapable tit for tat. Hearing about bombings in foreign lands she could see the ever escalating madness, the inescapable tit for tat. The wipeout inevitable on the current mediated course. Meanwhile she took her solace and fed her hope, listening to consciousness rising and filtering through the internet. The joy and happiness she experienced in consciousness could balance out the fear and anger in the world she hoped. Vietnamese had been blitzed by America, they left the past behind and moved on into the present. The behaviour of Christian, Muslim and Jewish nations remained wedded to the habits of a  vengeful god. She longed for the open arms of  je suis  ( I AM aka Jesus)  experienced in herself, to look with love upon the whole world, with forgiveness and understanding and a desire to heal the suffering felt so deeply within the earthbeing that she is.

( for those who dont know. Je suis = I AM in French. and I AM is what “god” calls itself. Exodus 3.14)

 

Aliens and alienation, pollen and cross pollination.

6.45am. earlymid February 2017. A clang, metallic, loud, distinctive, sheering outside the open window, cutting through the soundscape, leaving an imprint and disappearing. The imprint curled at the ends like the large petal that falls from the banana pod as the bananas reveal themselves. Larger at one end than the other, silver, grooved,  and some 6 feet in length. I have synaesthesia –  sounds and tastes reveal themselves as colors and shapes to me. What this was I do not know.
I saw lights in the sky behaving strangely and wrote of that in an earlier post. I see many strange phenomenon, which I remark upon to myself at the time, and then forget because they are not fitting my consensual model of reality, but now I record them.
There are facts, there are observations, there are the stories we tell ourselves which create our reality. Wade Davis says he grew up to regard trees as resources waiting to be used. He lived with Amazonians who grew up to regard trees as their sacred living home. Trees are consensual objects, the story we tell ourselves about them, says Wade Davis,  makes ALL the difference.
I tell myself a Quaker story, that there is light in everyone. I myself sense it as being somewhere between the lower ribs and the ovaries ( whatever that lovely flat area is on unfat men). I look for the light in others, and in the pupils of eyes I see “the soul”.  So what if it is just a story I tell myself, of a universal soul that is coming to a point of evolution – to know itself as one in humans.  The other choice is death – the universal soul in humans knowing or not knowing itself as one with the ecological niche of large mammals whose life support system is rapidly being eroded. The shit is hitting the fan.

My garbled political reality is this. I think humans need to live in cooperation and harmony with nature and others. I don’t mind some people having  reasonably more wealth than others, some risking more, some working harder, but everyone is to be valued for their own unique contribution which is to be given a chance to flourish. I believe Castro tried to redistribute wealth more fairly, paying a certain compensation to the super wealthy as he shared their land with the poor. However Cuba was banned from commerce, driven into the arms of Russia, and unable to flourish, becoming repressive in the efforts to maintain the now distorted dream. I witnessed Jamaica’s economy crumbling under Manley who tried to share the wealth of the country with the people, and was banned from world commerce by the giant in the game –  America. And so the people elected CIAga oh I mean Seaga, who played nice with America once again. No wonder those who hold the strings decapitated the Bernie Movement.
Oh America, home of our dreams of freedom and a chance for everyone. I experienced the delight of coming here from a country where the people were taken care of by government programs like free education and healthcare, but making more than a living was not possible!. New Zealand was far from the global playing field, imported goods were expensive, and we had a small economy. Here  in America, I experienced an ease of making money I described as being able to put your hands up and catch money just flying around in the air. The ole “streets paved with gold” story. It’s not quite so easy these days.
I remember when NZ opened its borders to trade and our local manufacturers of shoes for example closed down, and the streets became choked with second hand Japanese cars. Part good, part bad.
I hear people say the banking system cannot survive and is heading towards failure – then what? Last time, Obama kept the ship afloat by preserving the system that benefits the rich and the rest of us are fed well enough tho increasingly less well, on the crumbs. It is the future that carries that debt. What will happen next time? In Cyprus, the government put a closure on the banks and said anyone with more than $100,000 in the bank now has $100,000. The rest has been requisitioned.
http://demonocracy.info/infographics/eu/cyprus_crisis/cyprus_crisis.html
This article appears to be from 2012, I read a more recent one in which a man who was returning to Cyprus after a life of working overseas, sold his house in Britain and put the money in his Cypriot bank account, only to lose it when the banks put a hold on the money. I guess he hadn’t read this article. I do not know what is paranoia and what is fact. I do know that currently America seems to be pursuing an isolationist policy which will have interesting consequences.
Workers create all wealth. We are the mouths that need to be fed, the bodies that need to be clothed, earth will flourish with fewer of us. We will have to co-operate to survive.
I give thanks and praise for every moment of every day in which I do not need healthcare, I have hot water, and I have a roof over my head. I live in one of the most beautiful neighborhoods on earth, where I greet delightful people whose color or religion or sexual preference or politics is of no concern to me, as we walk outside in the common area – the streets and the park. I enjoy conversations with a man who believes the moon is hollow; a tea party man who says “consider me as your moderate Republican neighbor”; a man from Cuba who despises Castro; and many excellent women.  Woop de doo. This is my life. white heron

Multi form riff.

Goddess Speaks in streams which join and separate and join again.
Everything Falls
Into place.

Moon sees herself writing; the photographer and his chest-high tripod, bending to focus through a window on her surface, to record her mirror ego, Lib out walking in full moon early morning. Lib sees him there on Moon’s surface.
Lib sitting typing; memory bliss, sure of this, life in the slow lane here on Quest St.

What is wrong with this movie synopsis, told by Kivana.?
“ Post coitally, she said she was thirsty and he got her a glass of water. She was aggrieved and they fought.”
The story incomplete, denigrates women.
Lib, who did not see the movie,  retells the tale, to make sense to her righteous moonwoman vision:

Post coitally in dreamy bliss, he heard her languidly murmur,
“ I am thirsty as earth’s poisoned rivers, and dry like earth’s barren streams.”
He leaped to be Aquarius in her dreams.
WAAAH!” the baby in her wakes and cries, “he cant even listen to none of my sighs, my sweet story dream, when it was …it  did seem … that I and Earth are one. I blessed my dear luck, shivered at how we can fuck.  I sorrowed for others less bless’d, and my mind dressed, in their sorrow…the sorrow of Earth, the hunger and thirst..”
He brings her the glass, naked still his bare arse, and she yells at him crossly
“ You left me! just when i’m expressing my most sensitive thoughts. You ought to know when I’m riffing, and listen, just listen; our moment was shattered, my  vision all got scattered and here you stand with that horrible glass, I wish you put it in the crystal one. thanks anyway.”

Sadly he looks at her – wondering . “Whaat! Is this what I get? “
She looks so glum, he says, “what now”? She sulks, “ you wouldnt understand and dont care anyhow.” He sighs a grim shudder and settles back in. Pulls the sheet to his shoulder, thinks, “where is my sin?”
~~~~~~~~~
We are learning to comprehend that we do not all experience the consensual evidence the same way. Love is the key, how we wont go astray. When we love ourselves – and others as us –  we avoid fuss;  let it go – old injuries surface don’t you know.

I create my own story of love and forgiveness. The suffering and pain will come again and again until our part in the story is the glory of fearlessly living our truth. That is the seed which freeds* youth.

* Freed- free and feed, Care for the children produced, so they are Free from the need for Food and  shelter, when  birth control or safe abortion are unavailable. Society must provide Food and shelter for their bodies and Education for their souls. p.s. Here,  mind and soul are the same thing.

Freed – Family Reproductive Education Enterprise Department.

Benefactor Orphanages as an artifact of High Society. Sign up now. Mother Teresa is an example of that model. Can we do better?

Planned Parenthood tried.

Where is our sin? Judgement is mine Saith the Lord and I am the mirror of the the lord’s mind because I am coterminal with Moon and Sun. I name  Ahura Mazda by any name: sun, son, Ra , soleil, sol. Ra is my daily joy and worship. This earth, sun’s garden.
Human kind the seed sower, creator;  woman kind of like Mary – archetypical.

Sehnsucht – longing even for that which is impossible.

My impossible dream – to wake up to who I AM.

Done. Over and out. Hear me shout—- hallelujah , hoasanna, my mind clicks it heels with a jump to the side, ooooh i love to rifff. a mental masturbation stiff, of rhyming and running out of timing. Yoga very soon. Come down from the moon, mind. Find yourself here, in ME my dear. We are one. Fun has begun. Leave it, drop it. Wake up and get the ^$%&*()on with it…..

Healing done, Yoga practiced. Day awaits.

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