Rowan's Song

And I asked the Grandmothers to infuse her with the heartbeat of the Earth

I cried into the flesh of ground and begged for this life to come and cry and cuddle our fears

And she fought, for a millenia

Warrior Mother, Kali Woman

To ache it out and down and through

And in vigil we stood

Remembering our breath through the waves

They came and went and washed us of our fixed minds

And we slept and wept and sighed in the sifting of days to nights

Moments moved on, feeling infinite

She fought through emptiness, still brimming in fortitude

And he finally emerged through a crack, from the dark

Perfect and small

Our little red one

Contemplating Death Isn't All Bad

Try as I might, I cannot seem to evade deep blues and shadowy blacks.  I have yet to identify a particular cycle, but it does come in waves.  Sometimes I get pulled down so deep that the thought of leaving forever visits and revisits and plays out in a variety of scenarios, both tragic and comedic.  I'm not entirely convinced that this is a bad thing.  I'm forced to face my mortality, and face it, I do.  As the years have passed and depression has become a familiar caller, I have found that my ruminations on death have always ended in a stronger will to live.  Perhaps, my fear of what others think has been my saving grace.  Usually, I end my suicidal fantasies with a realization of how pathetic it would be to be found dead by my own hand.  I do not want to leave this world remembered for committing such a tragic act, it's far too humiliating.  That said, when I'm floundering in such dark despair, it's all too easy for me to revisit the option.  It's wishful thinking, truly, the most extreme choice amongst many to alleviate my gnawing pain.  My other recurring thought when the weighty friend visits, is to run away to the countryside.  There, I would find a semi-remote cabin and hole up with my guitar and other instruments and spend my days playing music, gardening and tending goats.  Right now, I have to say, that sounds positively blissful.  As for creative motivation, usually when I'm depressed, my creative energy is too drained to be of any good, but occasionally, it brings me to a level of inspiration unparalleled by that of my "normal" emotional states.  Most often I produce interesting visual art, because, my voice tends to get stoppered and my words cinched.  

I bring all this up right now because, I'm currently wallowing in a vat of my own self-pity, disappointment, and seemingly uncontrollable chemical imbalances.  I had a vision of the above picture and I decided that a candid discussion on the subject was called for.  The truth is, I love and appreciate my ability to swing so fantastically upon the emotional pendulum.  It teaches me very valuable lessons.  However, I do hope that as time nudges me along, I will be able to have longer spells of equilibrium, thus allowing me to better realize my potential.  After all, one day my fear of being found floating in a river or cold in bed because I dove too far into unknowns, may not be enough to keep me coming back.  I shudder at the thought.  

(Don't worry folks, I have a counseling appointment this week.)

Multiple Solitude? Alone-together?

Maybe it's not alone-together, it's more like isolated-and-lonely-together.  Stop and think about it.  When was the last time you actually LOOKED a stranger in the eyes, even when you really wanted to look?  No, you averted your eyes as soon as their gaze grazed you.  When was the last time someone offered to help you, to REALLY help you, when you were suffering, and I mean someone who wasn't your family member or really good friend?  No, they just stood there watching.  We're afraid of seeing one another, we're afraid of letting our guards down and of making the commitment to live life from the heart, to make real sacrifices for one another.  We are a world of beings playing out a disillusioned and moderate tragedy.  In love we temper ourselves, in politics we whine, in dreams we may fly, only to crash upon waking.  We cheapen our passions by consuming fantasies sold to us in an attempt to make us forget that we have the capacity to create so much of the world we live in.  Economics, nation states, religions; what a strange and convoluted, illusory real game of life, which man has so foolishly entangled himself in.  Even I play in this mummer's farce and I see beyond the veil of all this stupidity.  We really make things more difficult than they need to be.  We love a challenge, but would rather lay fallow and dead as we struggle.  Where is the fire of life?  Where is the passion of our hearts?  We second guess our every move, we over-analyze our choices, then idolize those who leap off the edge and land well, but it can't be us who jump.  We have no trust for others, because in our inability to accept our own role in the pain of our lives, we carry anger and blame and shame and all that crap which closes us off from real connections.  Authenticity is not a city we visit often.  We're suffocating under layers of player paint and the dung-masks of dogma.  Why do I shush myself when I was to sing-scream in the middle of the grocery store?  Why do I stop myself from dancing down the street while caressing the gentle hands of my fellow pedestrians?  I stop, I shush, because, no longer a child, my spirit has been suppressed by the dehydrated, blank, and catatonic despair of a population choked by the chains of the Meta-parent, the ultimate authority, be it God or Science or the State, that allows us to say, "It's not my fault!"  It is our fault!  We created this, we continue to create this, and we have the capacity to change it.  

What is a grown up person?  Is there such a thing as an adult, really?  I wonder, because it seems that we humans so badly need to create stories that keep us as children.  Not the children of loving parents who encourage us to dream and breathe and grow, but of parents who tyrannically control our every move and keep us from becoming beautifully independent, wise souls.  Why, as we age, do we let our lives become dross, colorless, and defeated?  Why do we so mindlessly devour the bland food of our romanceless culture decade after decade?  Why do we continue to rise only to our lowest of dreams?  Our world will stone, tar and feather, hang, or burn a person who lives an authentic life, and then make them heroes in their death.  What kind of necromantic story are we writing for ourselves?  If we cannot live in the ecstasy that the full spectrum of our capabilities as humans offers, what the hell is the point of bothering to exist? 

As we grow, as we age, we should find ourselves more alive, better able to express ourselves, more capable of manifesting our dreams, more inspired and clear.  We can only become such wise elders if we spiral through life's ups and downs, without allowing ourselves to stagnate and fester in one place for too long.  Our society, unfortunately, encourages this bogginess, and does not like it when we free ourselves from the sinkholes of despair.  When we know our own power, we cannot be controlled.

I demand a life of PASSION!  I take my life back from the mass boredom of everyday life and from the stranglehold of "power over".  I invite you to join me in creating a life you can truly love.  I invite you to join me in healing our multiple solitude, by remembering to play and gaze into the eyes of strangers.  I invite you to join me in trusting and giving generously and forgiving imperfections.  I invite you to join me in following our hearts and in shedding the garments of the false "authorities" found in government, religion, families, and other social institutions that have been built upon the fear of real freedom.  I invite you to join me in reclaiming the real magic of life and death and remembering the expansiveness of every last cell of our wildest dreams!

So Be It!

A Fall of Dreams

Through a window

I watch the day pass

Leaves turn red as blood, golden, brown

Cool air brings a rust upon the world

The sky, blue against it

A dream seeks me out

As I lay, with a head of fog

Joints unmoved, aching

The walls muffle the rustle of leaves

No, I can't even hear them

My dream, he floats 

Much like the leaves on the wind

Then, he falls quickly

And smashes to the ground

There's blood at the corners

I get to keep a piece of it, the wing

Three feathers to be exact

Two plain, one like a peacock's

Only they're the Raven's

Or Maldoc's, as he claims

I cuddle my treasure

Leaves still ride the air

Cracking against the wind

I don't know how to mend it

The wires need to be set again

The dream, he arises

Broken from the fall

Held together like the dying leaves

Wind pushing his wings

Coaxing them to release

I lay here, watching

Autumn embrace upon my world

The sun play upon the colors

And he perches, out there

Watching my little jerks

There's a strange chord

That ties us 

It binds us unknowingly

And we fall together

Our wings help us to fly

Debates You'll Never Win!

While I'm on the whole vegan rant, I want to say, that after obsessively browsing a number of discussion threads on various forums, I realize that it's all a losing battle.  People want to be right, and because food is enmeshed with ethics, morals, theories on human evolution and purpose, religious concepts and a variety of other sociopolitical issues, the passions fly.  People want to be right because they're afraid, mostly of realizing they're wrong which leads to pain, punishment, and "Hell".  The truth is, even science can't agree on one optimal diet or dietary system for humans.  As for the moral/ethical side of the diet debate, well, there again, nothing can be concretely proven as fact.  Some people swear up and down that animals were put here for us and that they neither feel, think, nor have souls.  I completely disagree with this sentiment, but am I going to convince a committed "Uberhuman" to think otherwise?  Only if they want to be convinced, which is unlikely.  The whole meat vs. no meat debate is about as reconcilable and provable as the God vs. no God debate.  The only truth that I can surmise from all of the philosophizing that happens between us humans is that the real truth is a mystery.  The best we can do is find the truth that makes the most sense to us at any given moment in our small lives.  

My plea; love and honor your truth, share it freely, embrace it, expect that others will see/feel things differently and maintain a sense of wonder about that.  

If your truth originates in fear, it's not truth, it's fear.  This is where all the self-righteousness, dogmatism, and proselytizing come from.  Fear is only helpful as a survival technique.  Most fear eats us from behind while we attempt to pretend it isn't there, but it always rears it's ugly head in insidious ways, whether we realize it or not.  Truth originates in love and compassion, mercy and forgiveness.  When you get down to all that, the details aren't very important.  The questions is what is your intent, what is your motive?

Here's another link that I found interesting regarding veg/vegan diets:

BeyondVeg

Also, I was totally banned from the forums on the PostPunkKitchen site.  I have yet to receive an explanation from the moderators.  It seems that they don't want any contrary views threatening their little Shambala.  No insight wanted (or is that incite?)!  Damn shame...

Am I My Own Worst Enemy?

What sparks this question is the 8 of Swords.

This card popped up in a reading recently, and sparked a rather strong reaction in me.  Like any metaphoric system, there are multiple interpretations to be had.  However, the most important one's are those with personal significance, the one's that speak to us in a language we are able to receive and understand.  With this in mind, I wish to explore the significance this card holds for me.

So, let's begin with the number.  Eight is a numerological symbol for power.  Some sources have a materialistic take on it, interpreting it as a number of material wealth, business acumen, and positions of authority, while forgetting more esoteric significances.  Eight can also symbolize the joining of the above and the below.  Turned on it's side, the eight is the sign for infinity.  While the materialistic interpretation has a value of it's own, I'm more privy to the arcane interpretations.  The fusion of spirit ("above") and matter ("below") is the work of the magician or alchemist.  Through the process of this "Great Work", one discovers the source of true power (the ability see beyond illusion/delusion, manifest through Will, serve as conduit to the Divine, etc.).  Thus eight, is a symbol for the achievement of true power (which is not power over, but power within).

The suit of swords in the tarot represents the intellect and the air element.  The eight paired with the swords indicates a relationship between power and mind.  It asks us to ponder what purpose intellect serves in the wielding of true power.  It warns us that the mind when given credence over the heart, only serves to bind, blind and banish us from our power (see the woman in the card).  This is not to downplay the importance of the intellect.  On the contrary, it serves a very important role in our ability to discern, critique, explore and understand.  However, for true self discovery and empowerment to occur, the mind must work in service to the heart (otherwise defined as intuition, Holy Spirit, Chante (Lakota), etc.).  It is through the heart that we receive pure guidance (inner knowing) from our essential selves.  The fusion of the above and the below takes place at the heart center.  It is here that intellect and emotion meet to share their respective observations and information so that one can act consciously from the heart.  

Considering the above, we can see that the eight of swords card is a symbol for powerlessness caused by intellectual beliefs.  In other words, the state of powerlessness shown is merely an illusion of the mind, choice still exists, it's simply unacknowledged.  The woman in the card is bound and blindfolded, barren and barred.  However, the way in front of her is clear and she has the freedom of movement in her feet.  A trickle of water lays a path for her.  The water being a symbol for emotion, gives her the encouragement to feel her way out of her predicament.  To be freed, she must loose the shackles of the intellect, allow her emotions to flow and will the two to meet in a moment of self-realization.  She has been party to her own oppression all along.  She has created many of these limitations for herself by buying into dis-empowering messages, external and internal alike.  On the other hand, some of the limitations have likely been imposed upon her from outside sources and are out of her control.  However, the point is not where the limitations originated, but what she perceives as her level of choice in the situation.  The better she can recognize what is, the better she can recognize the what kind of power she has to shift her circumstances.  This is the number eight, this is the magical act of grounding intent through the use of Will.  So, does she choose to give in to the limitations or use her creative spirit to find ways around, through, and beyond them?  Does she choose to activate her latent emotions and give them as much import as her fear-filled, dominating mind?  Is she what stands in her way? 

Alas, I must ask myself these very same things.  When considering these questions in the context of the intellect I must be careful not to negate the hard reality of social inequities that exist outside of my immediate control.  That said, I am challenged to see how, in my beliefs about myself and the world, I disallow myself a better life.  To tell the truth, my life isn't all that bad, especially when compared to many of my fellow relations, but subjectively speaking, I'm not fulfilled.  My dreams seem forever unattainable and I feel powerless for it.  But, perhaps I have fallen victim to my own lack of faith and my unwillingness to call up the creative forces innate in me to solve the riddle of my bindings.  It's difficult to put a mirror to one's mind, to deconstruct those brilliantly laid internal stories, in order to really see what's going on.  I've already asked myself what I want.  I know what I want.  Now, I just have to see what's standing in my way.  I have feeling that, as I lift my blindfold, I'll discover many faces of me staring back.  It's just a matter of convincing them that I know what needs to happen, that I've got it straight from the Source, and that they've got nothing to worry about.  Well, it's easier said than done, isn't it?  Or is that just a good example of how my mind is tricking my heart?

Here's a Little Message From My Friend Jackie...

The Long Silence

Dear Adoring Fans,

I heartily apologize for the long silence. It's not that I don't love you, it's that my life has simply not been conducive to sitting in front of a computer and imputing various diatribes on one thing or another. I could go into greater detail here, but said current life is preventing it, that and I really have to pee. I do, promise, my lovely friends, that I will be back, in better form, sharing all my misery and joy in the near future. Till then, think of me.... A LOT!!!

Love,
Mlle. Novadawn M.

Confessions of an Ex-Vegan Pt. 1

From the age of 16 to 26 I was some kind of vegan or vegetarian. Yes, that's 10 long years with little or no animal product intake. Good on me, right?! Well, of course, I like to think so. In addition to the apparent health benefits of the veg-life, my carbon foot print must have been vastly smaller than that of meatatarians (although soy, the favorite American meat substitute, has it's own special brand of polluting evil, so now I'm not so sure). My good-karma points also had to be much higher due to not participating in the mass torture and slaughter of our friends, the cows, pigs, chickens and other creatures to be found on Old MacDonald's farm. I especially liked to think that all this was true when I was up to my ears in VEGAN DOGMA. I was always patting myself on the back for being so ethical, not to mention giving those genocidal animal killers also known as carnivores, holier-than-thou glances when they had the nerve to eat meat in MY presence. Now, I always wanted to seem fair and understanding of other's meat-chomping choices, whist maintaining the correctness of my way, so I did bite my tongue quite often. Despite this, I'm convinced that my disapproval was conveyed loud and clear through the betrayal of my body language (i.e. the glances). Now, I humbly eat my words as I eat the very animal flesh I was once repulsed by. When I became a vegetarian at 16 I didn't start off as an animal-rights activist. I just wanted to be healthier. I never really liked big hunks of meat like steak and ewww... pork chops, so it seemed a natural thing to do. It wasn't until an errant boyfriend gave me a copy of John Robbin's, "Diet For a New America" at age 19, that I became and indignant vegan. I was appalled by the treatment that animals the world over endure for our selfish pleasures (and I still am). It seemed only reasonable that knowing what I knew then, I should cast off all consumption of animal products and defend the rights of our voiceless friends. It's at this point that I fulfilled many of the expectations that some of my friends and relatives had for me when I first went veg. I became a crusader, a dogmatician, a closed-minded veganazi. The really sad part was that, I didn't see it. I was too busy attempting to control every thing in my life out of fear (especially what went into my gullet) to realize what a prize asshole I was being. About 8 years after going veg, I started guiltily eating salmon on occasion, but I was still very opinionated about how I and everyone else should eat. Somehow, a little fish here and there didn't count? I know, it's not very logical... and that's the point. It wasn't about logic, it was about fear, about being not being wrong, about guilt. I needed something to tell me that I would be okay, something that would give me a guaranteed ticket to Heaven, or at least to somewhere less painful than here. I needed something that would give me a perfect body, one that didn't have all the health problems I was constantly battling, so that I could know that I wasn't a bad person. All of this internal crap just filtered over to the outside world, mostly because I needed a little validation. Unfortunately, the way I was going about things, I didn't get much of that. About a year and a half ago, after years of suffering from chronic health issues ranging from depression, anxiety, GI tract disturbances, and debilitating fatigue, I was diagnosed with anemia, adrenal fatigue and sensitivities to gluten, egg whites, dairy, and soy. Finally, I was validated. I had already suspected many of the food sensitivities and had mostly eliminated the offending foods. I was fine with all of that, I could live without soy, gluten, etc., etc. What I didn't like was the instance of my advisers to take up flesh foods again. They claimed that I needed large doses of protein to help me overcome the fatigue and anemia and that meat was the best source of said protein. The supplements they wanted to give me were also animal based. Those good 'ol bovine adrenal and pituitary extracts! Yum! I resisted this advice for sometime, opting for vegetarian treatments instead. While the veg alternatives worked on a certain level they were slower working, not very tasty (save the licorice extract), and I was allergic to most of the vegetarian high protein choices I had, so I was definitely in a bind. Finally I caved. I was tired of being tired all of the time! I deliberated for a while, then decided to take the plunge. I can't remember the first bite of meat I had... I think it was chicken or turkey, but it could just as likely have been beef. I was far from excited, I was pretty repulsed in fact, but it did feel good. Well, good enough to keep me on the meat-wagon anyway. So here I am now... ex-vegan... no longer able to be high and mighty and perfectly ethical with a VIP pass to the Bodhisattva Club. When I made the choice to leave my fellow "vegetablearyans" and join the flesh-eaters, I realized I couldn't win. My veg friends would disapprove, my meat-eating relatives would gloat, and I would just have to deal or better yet, stop worrying and start enjoying. That's where I am now. I don't worry nearly so much what I eat, as long as I enjoy it. This attitude is essential to my sanity, especially given the dietary restrictions placed on me by my food sensitivities. This doesn't mean I'm no longer concerned for the rights of my fellow creatures, I certainly am. Because of this, I attempt to choose animal products that are ethically raised and killed and I encourage others to do so as well. I still think it's important to seriously consider the personal and global consequences of what we eat, but now I'm a lot more broadminded in that regard and I'm also a lot happier.

Death is Awaiting!

Recently, I've pulled the Death card from a number of tarot and oracle decks for readings on various questions. When one pulls a recurring card, it becomes a strong indication that the card's message must be heeded. Contrary to popular belief, the Death card does not usually signify physical death. It does, however, imply an ending and a beginning of something major in one's life. It makes perfect sense that I have been visited by this Grim Reaper lately. I am undergoing a major transformation in my life. The Phoenix has burned and is rising from the ashes. The old is slipping away, the new inching in. Due to changes I've made in my life, my spirit, my psyche, I can no longer live the life I've been living. It must die. Composting, fermenting, incubating, sprouting... this is the phase I am now beginning. More specifically, I have been called to live a creative life, one where my self-expression is the modus operandi to my healing, my happiness, and my freedom. This artist's life is not just about me, it's also about sharing my gifts with the world... allowing those 'Waters of Life' to flow into the heart's of others. I can no longer be stingy with my voice, my music, or my visions. If I didn't let my old life of resistance, avoidance, and fear give way, I would eventually die. This may sound melodramatic, but it's very true. My old life was slowly suffocating me. Now, I choose this death, to choose new life. Now, I embrace the call of my heart, to uplift myself, to uplift all our relations. My creative dreams made real, are my offering to you, in honor of your innate wonderousness.

Aho, Mitakuya Oyasin (All My Relations)

The Self Beyond

In the last three years or so, the Universe (or whatever you like to call the all encompassing Creative Force) has put me to the task of asking myself a few little questions:

"What do I really want?"

"What is my true essence?"

"Who the hell am I, really?"

"Will I show up (as my dad likes to call it) or will I stay asleep in the painful illusion that sleeping is easier than being fully awake?"

Yep, it's fun times in my head and heart these days! These questions are big, and when I began to be confronted with them, I both enthusiastically and reluctantly ventured to explore them. Deep self-exploration is not an easy road, after all, the most meaningful and adventurous ones rarely are, but the rewards are unquantifiable. This morning, I spoke with one of my great friends and teachers, and she said that being fully authentic is much like being a ring-bearer... being like Frodo. There's a weightiness to coming into true power, which is what "seeing the self beyond the veil" or being who YOU are, is all about. There are massive obstacles created by ourselves and our world, that must be overcome. There are temptations to abuse the power of self-realization to further our self-interests, instead of sharing it for the benefit of all. The journey to our highest potentials is often obscured by fears, conscious and unconscious alike. However, we are not alone in this journey, once we commit to it. This is a good thing, a very good thing. Just as in the story of Frodo and the ring, we must accept support. Though we may have to carry the bulk of the burden, we always have a Samwise (even if he's non-corporeal) and at least a handful of others willing to see us through the fire. On my current journey, many wonderful supporters have worked hard to give me the love and encouragement required to press forward. For this, I'm thankful. Unfortunately, I've also had a handful of Boromir's in my life. Those well-meaning loved-one's who are too blinded by their own fears and/or agendas to give me the objective and unconditional support I need (everyone needs). Other's agendas and fears along with my own investment in them, have helped only in feeding my resistances and self-delusions. These relationships have kept me down, instead of giving me the uplift I need. I don't mean to blame others for my shortcomings, but I do wish to acknowledge how certain relationships can seem beneficial, whist carrying the insidious poisons to destroy, or at least to keep one stuck. Despite all the support I speak of here, it is entirely up to me to decide whether I take on the task of living an authentic life, following my passions, sharing my gifts, and showing up. This is the challenge I have accepted. Although, I have answers to some of the questions above, I won't bother to share them here. The answers change and grow, they shift their focus as I journey forward, and they don't necessarily make logical sense. For this reason, I can only accept the feeling of these answers, the essences. My self beyond the veil is the key to all I am. That self is ever-changing, ever the same. The key is trusting in the essence.