proof of life,
because sometimes I forget and hold my own true Self hostage
barn mirror selfie
april 15, 2023
Continue reading “proof of life:”
proof of life:
barn mirror selfie
april 15, 2023
Continue reading “proof of life:”
barn mirror selfie
april 15, 2023
Continue reading “proof of life:”
Cronehood: the imperative, work, province and privilege of becoming truth and living truthfully in the depths
Ageing is no accident. It is necessary to the human condition, intended by the soul. We become more characteristic of who we are simply by lasting into later years; the older we become, the more our true natures emerge. Thus the final years have a very important purpose:
the fulfilment and confirmation of one’s character.
- James Hillman
“Life is a farce if a person does not serve truth.”
- Hilma af Klint
“A crone is a woman who has found her voice. She knows that silence is consent. This is a quality that makes older women feared. It is not the innocent voice of a child who says, “the emperor has no clothes,” but the fierce truthfulness of the crone that is the voice of reality. Both the innocent child and the crone are seeing through the illusions, denials, or “spin” to the truth. But the crone knows about the deception and its consequences, and it angers her. Her fierceness springs from the heart, gives her courage, makes her a force to be reckoned with."
— Jean Shinoda Bolen
by a queen crone,
Lajuana Lampkins
"Women's most feared power over men is the power to say no. To refuse to take care of men. To refuse to service them sexually. To refuse to buy their products. To refuse to worship their God. To refuse to love them. Every therapist knows that sex can be forced, but no power in the world can force love from any woman who wishes to withhold it."
- Barbara Walker
“The Crone has been missing from our culture for so long that many women, particularly young girls, know nothing of her tutelage. Young girls in our society are not initiated by older women into womanhood with its accompanying dignity and power.
Without the Crone, the task of belonging to oneself, of being a whole person, is virtually impossible.”
- Marion Woodman
Continue reading “Cronehood: the imperative, work, province and privilege of becoming truth and living truthfully in the depths”
in the Limineen, on the threshold
"[S]he said that a [hu]man had to escape to the country to see the world whole and that [s]he wished [s]he lived in a desolate place like this where [s]he could see the [S]un go down every evening like [the] [g]od[head] made it to do."
~ Flannery O’Connor
in the Limineen of light and dark
as witnessed in The Great Lakes
of the North american continent
April 11, 2023
un/rest
am i seeded
or buried
forest floor or headstone above me?
the distant daffodils,
stoic sentries, craning for Sun
at the edge
offer no answer/s to my dark, muffled query
germination and decomposition
indistinguishable,
in the beginning
indistinguishable,
at the ending
in Spring’s cold soil
shaded,
unrelentingly,
by clouds or canopy.
Stationed on the Crosses
The CruX: historically, continually, and invisibly stationed by, and on the crosses of, men
women, womxn, womqn, womyn and girls have been both the cross-bearers and the crucified – ever since the unnatural and unholy “conception” of the Roman Catholic Church and all its subsequent patriarchal, misogynist Christian derivatives.
maundy thursday, daily
mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos
As I sat on the maple floor of my kitchen in Chicago on a Thursday evening in 2017, voluntarily polishing my son’s chukka boots for the weekend — it became a meditation on my own father, who was actually my second father, who would often offer to polish or freshen up my scuffed, dirty shoes
— first, my white Keds-knock-offs from Zayre, Venture or Jupiter — the canvas stiffened bright white, an unnatural brand new/ the scent of that liquid polish and sponge instantly conjured/ me smiling/ did I remember to say thank you? did I know (how) to?
later, when I was in high school, he would clean and polish my beloved and preciously expensive pair of Stan Smith white leather Adidas /or were they leather Tretorns? then, when I was in college and always pressed for time or conversation, I began expectantly asking if he could please polish my black heels or black boots for work – but more importantly for the weekend — he always, obliging me.
but she tried, and she got better, each time
Every act:
Continue reading “maundy thursday, daily”palm sunday : hosanna in the highest
sometimes i touch my own face
with my palm
to remember
that i am also soft
& Holy
Hosanna in the highest, truest Light of Self.
"The triumph of the Light before its obscuration is an expression of the divine, royal Selfhood within each one of us, that is so powerfully obscured by mundane and conventional reality. There are times when we want so badly for that light to shine out of us, for it to be recognized by the world. When the only vehicle for expression is the ego-personality our strivings to be seen are usually in vain. Personality actually comes from the Greek “persona” meaning “mask.” While in this terrestrial incarnation, we are like the Count of Monte Cristo in The Man in the Iron Mask; our behavioral gyrations and efforts to have others recognize our light only serve to convince them that we are egotists, madmen or charlatans. Often we create a false glamour that is not our true Self; we put on an entertaining song and dance act; we live a lie and shine forth a false light: or we simply forget about our light and live our lives as if it had never been.
When we are not anxiously attempting to show forth our light, we are often acting in fear of the consequences of letting our light shine. We either turn down our light or turn it off completely, so that we might pass unseen through this world. Yet, “Within a man of light, there is light, and he lighteth up the whole word. If he does not shine, he is darkness.” This is the sham, the cover up, that we are either parading a false light or hiding our light beneath a bushel. The issues are not safety or creative self-expression, the core issues are authenticity and consciousness. We must be conscious of who we really are as spiritual beings and not let either fear or love of the world pervert or hide the authenticity of our own true Self.”
- excerpted from the Homily for Palm Sunday
by Reverend Steven Marshall,
Ecclesia Gnostica, Gnosis.org
and regarding charity, saviorism, law, justice and martyrs:
Continue reading “palm sunday : hosanna in the highest”the only, holy Trinity: maiden, mother, Ƈɾօղҽ
”As a symbol, the Crone had to be suppressed by patriarchal religions because her power ‘overruled the will even of Heavenly Father Zeus.’ She controlled the cycles of life and death. She was the Mother of God, the Nurturer of God, and, as a Crone, the Slayer of God. While Christianity retained the feminine as Virgin and Mother, it eliminated her role as Crone.”
-Marion Woodman, Dancing in the Flames, The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness
They are the O’Kneels
1 ain’t dumb
+ 1 ain’t dumb
= 0 authentic lives
“seeking intellectual stimulation and companionship in Chicago”
a profile headline for a dating site, August 2008
and they’ve never pretended harder,
to be happier,
in their marriage,
than they are right now
“she ain’t dumb.” said, the Mr.
“he ain’t dumb.” said, the Mrs.
silently, renewing those practical vows,
but
2 “ain’t dumbs” will never add up to
1 authentic life
what their calculus hath joined together,
let no verdant, regent 𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖊 put asunder,
let us now re-pronounce them:
the O’Kneels
Continue reading “They are the O’Kneels”Remember thy Self to keep holy
“You was blind to Him as your footprints in the ashes, but He saw you.
Beneath every disguise; in every gesture false or true; every silent resentment – He saw you in those dark corners. He heard you. Oh my brothers, He heard those thoughts.
Now, I am here today to talk to you about reality. I’m here to tell you about what you already know.
This, all, — this, is not real. It is merely the limitation of our senses which are meager devices. Your angers, and your griefs and your separations, are a fevered hallucination, one suffered by us all, we prisoners of light and matter…
Our faces pressed to the bars, lookin’ out, lookin up, askin’ the question, beggin’ the question — “Are YOU there?” Would that we had ears to hear – because every moment, every now — is an answer; every beat of every heart, every second of every minute, every minute of every hour, every hour of every day — is an answer.
And the ANSWER is: “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Your sorrows pin you to this place; they divide you from what your heart knows…
And we bandage our soft selves in hardness and anger.
You are a stranger to yourself, and yet He knows you… And when your hard heart made you like unto the stone and broke you from His Body — which is the stars and the wind between the stars — He knew you. He knew you – yet and forever. How could the Father forget His children; how could the world forget itself?
Doesn’t matter that the children do not understand what they are. Doesn’t matter that the world thinks that it’s many different things — rather than One – HIM. Doesn’t matter.
My sad and joyous, and frightened and courageous brothers and sisters,
I want you to close your eyes and let your chest swell as His lungs; I want you to feel His Portion in us – in each other.
Every single one of you, I want you to listen for that answer:
If ever your sorrow becomes such a burden that you forget yourself – forget this world, I want you to remember this truth, this is as indelible as the sun in the sky and the ground beneath your feet:
This world is a veil, and the face you wear is not your own.
The shape of our true face is not YET known to us.
And so I press my eyes to the bars, and I look out, and I look up — and I ask the question, no! I BEG the question: Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ! – Your arms open and close, and the echoes of my life could never contain a single truth about You. You move the feather and ash, You touch the leaf with His flame, You linked Your soul to an Infinity of atomic creation, and of It – I am less than a drop in the ocean. How then can I know sorrow, how then, can I know despair? – Does the rain know sorrow, does the grass and the mountains, those beautiful mountains, know despair?
Such is not His Province, and so not be our purpose.
Be in Him, of Him, and then KNOW peace; that is His gift to us — our birthright.
In the End, we will find ourselves at the Beginning. We will at last KNOW ourselves; and our True Faces will weep in His Light – and those tears will feel like a warm rain.
Continue reading “Remember thy Self to keep holy”5th sunday of lent | passion sunday
don’t raise the dead, don’t raise the Lazarus; you ain’t jesus — or mary magdalene, and you never know who or what might surface.
proof of life :
she taught me to not like
myself/
especially, my image
— in photographs and in the moments themselves
ingraining a self-consciousness in me
and in the candidness of my real life
in
play
laughter
effort
surprise
exertion
contemplation
fatigue
wonder
sadness
silliness
conversation
worry
unmade
pose, poise, posture, profile, perfect,
control
and because perfection
is unattainable,
in the eye of the beholder and in the eye of the beheld
she was absent from the photos of our lives, and so also was i,
becoming onlooker, background, photographer,
instead of subject
and, so i learned
to make myself invisible
to become invisible
to accept invisibility
there are so many ways to be a thief, mother
Kahlo, an ideal of self-possession
limineen
as imagined with
The Flammarion Engraving
Limineen : limin + een
noun: the time and space of the thresholds; attendance to or presence in, the in- betweens, the interregnum — of becoming and nonbecoming; of beingness and nothingness; of the material and ethereal; of sacredness and profanity; of love and hate; of calm and rage; of the authentic and the engineered; of inertia and energy.
limineen is both mood and State of this author, an Earthling, human, woman and entity, who finds her self present within and attendant to the thresholds of the corporeal, incorporeal and surreal.
from liminal / lim·i·nal
/ˈlimənəl/ adjective
- occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.
- relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.
Continue reading “limineen”
ravenous
i subsist on this right now
chartreuse
red, purple, black
and gold
early, brave dandelions, low-key wonders
muscari, moss, catkins, i study in real-time-lapse — like it’s my last Spring / is it?
these black birds — red-winged, grackles, and starlings, their obsidian gloss and iridescence, who could look away
sandhill cranes, five years familiar, but i am still arrested with awe every single time
deer roam in forage for hours for tender emergent greens among last year’s corn stover/
chorus frogs and woodcocks at twilight, i heard them into the night, this had to be the first white noise for human beings
i watch for owls til there’s no more light, straining my eyes / willing them to feast on the moles that i can’t bear to kill /
no one’s here to call me in / no street lights/ and i forget to eat til i am
ravenous or ravishing/ my favorite and unforgettable malaprop
i am warmed, buoyed, sated with vernal sensuality
but the mud, my heart – and hips
remind me
that i am also
Equinox Upon All Your Houses! | All, Praise Theia!
Equinox upon all your houses!
and an Equinox and Solstice prayer:
All praise, Theia!
Thank you for life, the genesis of the path of our axial light;
in your violent, alchemical transformation,
you twice, gave us our light,
the cycle of seasons,
and the precession of the equinoxes in the northern and southern hemispheres of our life-giving Mother Earth,
your gifts are incomparable; an enduring aweing abundance.
All, praise, you Theia, for our Earth Mother Gaia and our Moon, Selene!
derivative work based on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet — Mercutio’s curse, as exclaimed to the Montague and Capulet families and their factions as he realizes he is mortally wounded by Tybald’s sword — he, collateral damage in the melee of their war of and for power — and against, love.
for the Earthling/environmental/political take on the equinox:
Continue reading “Equinox Upon All Your Houses! | All, Praise Theia!”
the limineen | earthling, poet & crone 