Animus

My mind's eye shows me the archetype
Stoic, wise, quiet—the cure.
Allowing me to lead the way
Why I fear him, I am not sure.

I embrace him in my dreams,
Entwine our hands and limbs
I explore the landscape of his being
He quietly allows my human whims.

I like him
I ask him questions
I amuse him
He asks me no questions

If I listen, he gives me answers
If I remember to be aware
I see the me
That my animus is
Free

I will embrace this gentle giant
I know not what it is I fear
He isn't mean or cruel or angry
He is a man I am happy to be near.

He shelters me from others
He allows me to lead the way
I know now he is the sun
My animus, my protector, my Day.

I wonder how to show him that I'm ready to be one?
I wonder how I show him the work that I have done?

I invite him to speak up

Give me words and actions and thoughts
Marry the Moon and Sun.
No longer all alone
Time to be All One.

Come to me Apollo.
Reside inside my air.
I pray to be united
An end to the sweet pair.
Come to my Apollo
I beg of you to live
Inside the sea of me
My reluctance please forgive

I know not what I do

To shun a part of me
Makes no sense

I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness

Unite

Come to me
I forgive myself my reluctance

I know not what I do

To shun a part of me
Makes no sense

I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness
I choose wholeness

Unite

I come to you.

Time

Time! What are you doing in my chest?
Get out! Your ticking has confused me.
Your ticking has silenced my heart!
No longer.
I unwind you.
I remove your numbers from your face.
I take the arrows and use them to pierce the lie you have told humanity.
Puncture.
Dissolve.
A mystery I solve.
I Am a sign of a brand new time.
It doesn’t tick or tock.

Hickory Dickery Dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The Clock struck One
And Down he run
hickory
Dickery
Dock

Hickory
Dickery
Dock
I dismantle the clock
I smash the face with a rock
I bend the hands of time
I demand and live a new rhyme
I uncover the forsaken’s crime
And fashion a new way to be
Every breath a Now moment
We’re free

The numbers evaporate into the ether
The hypnotic tick tock goes away
In the silence I hear an old whisper
Exit and Exist
night fuses with day.
Clasp hands and celebrate the Way
In our dreams, we find what we pray

Is it the calendar that led us astray?
Have we captured ourselves?
Are we our own Stonehenge?
Have we fabricated our own decay
By delineating night from the day?

Time! Time.
You have served a purpose,
But I give you notice
Your lifespan ends right Now
For you have spun a pretty lie
That I with authority disavow
You will not stamp my ticket
Or dictate a thing called age
You will not line my face
Or put to sleep my inner sage.

I Am the rainbow bridge.
I unite the day and night.
I untie the knot of time
I walk the dreamscape without impunity
With every step I foster unity
I may have been born on the shortest day
But it reminds me that the dreams of sleep
Are bigger than the lies of time
Exit and Exist
Allow
Your heart hurts
I will heal it
I burn the sands of time
They become my looking glass
I am free.

The Redeeming Blood of Christ

My feet pound the pavement

I trudge on the lonely road

I remember Jesus’s payment

My heavy heart carries the load

I feel it even now

As I write this

Poor, stressed out organ

How you beat

And I wonder at the people who can’t feel

But are ever ready to lay their sins at Jesus’s feet

Get up! Lazy wretches! Time to walk!

Time to feel! Time to Live!

Heal the Heel!

Do you cling to the myth that Jesus saved you?

You are Him, take a step, become the meal!

The power of the Eucharist has been forgotten

The wine that you drink is your own blood!

I wonder how the ritual became so distorted

Who is benefitting from the story of the flood?

Tap in to the you that still remembers

The Glory of the Only One you could Be

Wake up your sinew and your atoms

Unlock the truth that proclaims YOU the mystery!

Perhaps I Am tired of the apathy

Perhaps I Am confounded by the lack of sight

Perhaps I Am claiming back my power

For every Being who has forgotten they are Light!

Awaken! Hearken! Rememember!

You are a Living Sign!

One Man’s Dying and Rising,

Proves that you too are the Bread and the Wine!

Take back your Power

They can not have it!

I say it with Authority

It is so!

If I’ve met your eye in life or dream

You now remember

And no longer fear any foe.

If God is for you,

Who could be against you?

Revisit the old proverbs with a new eye.

When the last of you wakes up to your Divine Potential,

No longer will the ones who came to wake you have to die.

Will you continue to crucify your saviours?

Is that the role you really want to play?

Hypocrites! Weak and lazy sinners?

Does that really resonate and have the power to sway?

Dare to believe you are powerful.

Exactly who and what you were always meant to be.

The Pollyanna in me remembers a way of Being

And she is here to awaken the truth of the Three.

You are worthy of change, humans!

You are worthy of change!!!

My heart aches, my heart aches, my heart aches.

I smash your chains,

I smash your chains,

I smash your chains.

If I could jump into your cells, I would remake them. 

But the key to your prison

Lies in your heart.

So I sew another punctured spirit

I pull the patches 

And begin back at the start.

And if I wonder what I’m doing here

I will forgive me

I answered a cosmic call

It is time to awaken every spirit

It is time to be who we were before the fall.

Silence

 Silence calls to me

Wasted words do harm

Talking heads upset my heart

I seek a silent charm.

Echoes of remorse live inside me

I seek the root but find no source

Am I the culprit of the feeling?

Have I unknowingly altered course?

Or am I traveling the straight and narrow

On the high road where I wish to be

My heart and throat signal unalignment

I wish to be the best of me

So I will sit in my discomfort

Unsure again of the when or why

If I am not reaching my potential

I patiently await a brand new eye

And with this eye I may see more clearly

Or with this eye new truths may be revealed

Or with this eye love may be my life-blood

Or with this eye even more may be concealed

An ache in the heart is a good thing

It speaks of a truth that once hides

A story was told

A life that was sold

For comfort that tricks and derides

Choose to foster some love there

Declare a bright future day

Being able to rest in emotion

Is proof that you Are the Way

I must remember that I Am not guilty

I must believe that my desire to do no harm is the key

I must remember that intention is everything

I must remember that I am more than just Me

I must remember that the puzzle is in motion

I must trust that the pieces know their place

I must try to live in my heart

And make space for the whole human race

I came to hold God’s people in my heart

I can be the ALL

I can

There is room enough in my heart for those who cannot remember their divinity

I Am a vessel for those lost in the dream

I make more room and allow more in

I accept all hearts who have been tricked by the message of Sin

Pain is not a sin

Disappointment is not a sin

Despair is not a sin

Grief is not a sin

Worry is not a sin

Disbelief is not a sin

We are not failing, my People!

We are not wrong or perverse!

We are simply living in a foggy understanding

Believing our humanity is a curse. 

Weakness is our strength.

Open up—feel.

Release the curse of judgment.

It is time to be your own meal.

You are the bread and the wine

Made of the night and the day

You are the same as the stars

Your bones the roadmap and the Way.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Be still.

Rest.

Dream.

Dream.

Rest.

Wait.

You do not know the date, but I tell you it is near.

You do not know the date, but I say you are a Seer.

The time is here for the harvesting.

The gathering store into barns.

The harvest is plenty.

Laborers are few.

Come with me into the fields.

Your arms may grow weary.

Your shoes will wear thin.

Come with me into the fields.

Authentic Me

Dash away the cobwebs

Clear away debris

Unveil Authentic Karen

Show her face to me

She can only be offended
By mismatched tongue and heart
When that propensity lives within her
True and false must break apart

Burn away the one who thinks
She isn’t enough as she is
Gust away the one
Who still believes in sin

The only flaw in her is the one she can’t embrace
She must look into the mirror and accept each and every face
Sink into me, transform me, help me to remember
I Am the baby born on the 21st day of December
My innocence is my perfection
My soul untarnished and sin free
I release the habits of the world
I come back to the One I was always meant to be

Sing to me Apollo
I sink into your tune
I lay my body on top of yours
And form in my new cocoon

I mourn for those trapped in the smoke
I came down for the ones tricked by the mirrors
I invoke the Blood of the Lamb
I awake the powerful, archaic Seers

I look the slavers in the eye
I do not fear you
Nor do I hate you
You too are not free
I came not only for the chattle
But for the ones who trapped Essence
And lived off energy
You have had your place in this story
And now is your exit, your fall
But your God has still not forsaken you
You are embraced in the perfection of the All

Thought

Drum your dreams

Pulsate your passion

The rhythm of thought retreats and refashions

Look to the wildlife

Soak in their song

Wisdom and majesty resound in the throng

The circus of life 

Has order and rules

The performer forgets that earth is a school

Lay down your head 

Connect with the wise

The makers of costumes hint to the prize

The idea that this can all be a game

Ordered and structured with a plan and an aim

Is hard for the human to believe and to care

The world has taught her that magic is rare

Meet the eyes of the people

Listen with focus

Connection is real, fear Hocus Pocus

Punch the liars with fists strengthened in love

You are the very one you pray to Above

He calls you to remember you are made of His bone

The Creator of All in every vibration and tone

Let go of judgement

Release lack, release fear

Rename the Sinner

See yourself in the Mirror.

The Watcher

The body wastes away and the eyes dim and the Watcher calls for peace.

The Watchers meet each other's eyes.

Words drift away

Inadequate, stupid words 

Suddenly the Watcher knows how much of her life is inadequate and stupid. 

She twines her fingers with the end of the road body

She prays her soul twines with the One who travels on

"Take me with you" she begs. She takes out her thread and needle and stitches herself to his shadow.

A new journey sounds so sweet to her.

"Take me with you!" she demands. 

Binding herself as best she can to the promise of reunion with the One who made her

She bows her head

"Soon you will have more room; with what will you fill it?" her voice asks. She swats the question away.

We are all Watchers.

Witnesses of fabulous folly, fatigued by the inadequate and stupid fabric of our lives

She plunges her needle into the Father's Shadow

"I will not be left behind," she shouts. "I will not live like this another day."

Her Voice persists. "With what will you fill the upcoming space?"

"I will twine my body with my husbands," she answers, unthinkingly.

"Good choice."

That gets her attention. 

"It is?" 

She wonders. She rarely gives the right answer the first time. Or the second. Or the third.

"Yes. It is. That is your destiny."

Soak me up, Moonbeam. Caress me. I sink into your arms and rest rest rest. 

Splay me out, Sun. Flay the layers of inadequate and stupid and rid me of my excess skin. 

A sputtering cough catches her attention. The Watcher engaged--enraged to be steeped in stupid.

She answers with a tone. Discovers the power of the moan. The healing of the groan.

Sun and Moon meet for a dance. 

"My romance is my destiny?" she questions. It seems too easy. "It can't be that easy."

Absorb me Apollo. 

I sink into you easily and happily and completely. 

"Are you sure I am not escaping?" she asks. 

"Oh human. Why are you so convinced it is supposed to be hard?"

As she Watches the Father sleep away from her, she ponders the question. 

"I just like the idea of sinking into him so much, that I feel as if it can't possibly be the answer."

She looks at the wasted frame, a snapshot of her life newly recorded.

She gets it. The lesson. All that matters is the perfection of connection.

For in this moment she knows she will want her own Watchers one day, one day, one day 

An Unconventional Obituary

Paul David Bednarowski, husband of Lois Bednarowski and father of Katy (Tony) Madson, Sara Sullivan, Karen (Ronnie) Mullins, and Paul (Shannon) Bednarowski, brother of Keith (Mary) Bednarowski and Tom (Mary)Bednarowski, grandfather to Anthony Madson (30), Elizabeth Madson (22), Emily Madson (21) Emma Bednarowski (17), George Mullins (17), Lucy Mullins (15), Ellie Bednarowski (14), Mary Lois Sullivan (14), and Mae Mullins (12) and great friend to many, passed away on October 19th at the age of 78 in his Fairhope home. Paul was preceded in death by his beloved parents Paul and Irene Bednarowski.

It's not hard to pinpoint the special qualities Paul brought to the lives of those who knew and loved him. All describe him as a dependable source of steady and powerful love. His children remember calling out "Daddy's home!" and racing to the front door, where he set down his briefcase and opened his arms to receive big hugs at the 6 o'clock family reunion. After a quick change of clothes (that smelled of what the young kids later learned was unique to the paper mill), family dinner was had, board games played, wrestling engaged in, and tissues collected after a family viewing of The Waltons or Little House on the Prairie. Later, as the kids got older, Algebra tutoring replaced the board games (there were still tears!) and family dinners were worked around soccer, basketball, football and volleyball practices and games, which were sometimes coached and always attended by this quiet, thoughtful, well-loved man.

As a husband, (what a husband!) the 56 years are seen by Lois as the greatest gift of her life. Supported, loved, and appreciated by Paul who was always willing to say "yes" to her wants and whims, whether that meant putting on a rhinestone belt buckle and square dancing on Friday nights, traveling to foreign lands, donning a tuxedo and dancing past his 9 o'clock bedtime, Lois can't imagine a life without her best friend and perfect partner. It will be hard and awful and lonely, but she strives to rest in appreciation and gratitude for the many years of love, and pats herself on the back for choosing such a wonderful father for her children and grandfather for their children. Well-done Lois! 

His brothers recall a cribbage-loving Paul who won and lost many a quarter over the span of at least 70 of his 78 years of life. Shelled peanuts (they all loved peanuts!) and beverages (they all loved wine and beer!) and math (why did they all love math?!) equaled long nights of laughter and camaraderie. His brothers were his friends. His brothers already miss him. 

And so do his friend-friends. Too numerous to name, but they are many: his old school-friends from Menasha, WI; his college friends from the University of Wisconsin; his Scott paper friends (did we mention his 33 years of working for Scott Paper Company/KC?); his investment club friends; his supper club friends; his volunteer friends from Thomas Hospital; his Quail Creek friends, his St. Vincent DePaul friends, his church friends; the Packer Nation! we could go on and on. We lost a good man, didn't we? It's ok. We will see him again.

And we know that is true because above all, Paul was a man of faith. His mother prayed the rosary at his bedside as he spent two long years bedridden from rheumatic fever. His brother his faithful favorite playmate, his parents supporting him in prayer, Paul learned patience and gratitude (and math!) at home in the loving arms of his family. And as he lived by faith, so he died, with his loving family gathered around him praying the rosary. Can you imagine that? Isn't it wonderful? As Mary was assumed into heaven, Paul took his last breath, and it was sad, but also beautiful.

Is there more to say? Of course there is, but we don't need to go on because you knew him. You will recount your own stories of Paul as you sit with your friends and families at dinner, take out your cribbage boards at home, and watch the Packers roll into the Super Bowl year after year (it could happen!) His family thanks you for being a rich part of his life. We are all better for knowing him, and that is enough. 

Please join us as we celebrate his life at his home parish St. Lawrence Catholic Church in Fairhope, AL, on Saturday October 29, 2022. Visitation will be held in the St. Lawrence Room, with mass at 11 o'clock, and a luncheon reception in the St. Lawrence room at 12 o'clock. All are welcome.

Daddy

 His little children giggle as he Fe Fi Fo Fum's up the stairs

His giant's laugh deep and delicious as we await our goodnight prayers

Tucking us in tight, little mummies in our beds

Wrapping us in love with sweet kisses on our heads

Oh Daddy. How impeccably you have lived your life. Your shoulders broad and strong supporting your children and your wife. 

We are so grateful.

So grateful, Daddy

And proud. Proud of this man who put us on those broad shoulders so we could see the parade of life. Keeping us safe and rooted as he showed us the possibilities that lay before us. Offering us the world, while anchoring us to safety. Sweet safety. 

What a gift Daddy.

Thank you.

It is easy to be brave when you have a father who loves you.

It is easy to be generous when you have a father who loves you.

It is easy to be bold when you have a father who loves you.

Our gentle giant of a man has been our safe haven. His sweetness tempered by sharp thought and intentional integrity. Steady. He has been the foundation for the statues his children chisel, as his father before him, and those who follow down the line of ancestral love. We all become giants, one by one by one, until we are All One.

You have crafted a man who is easy to love

Your choices, your thoughts aligned with above

Your faith, your actions, the man that you are

Have placed in the sky a new guiding star

Your children and grandchildren have a beacon to guide 

The path hewn by you is straight and it's wide

We have room to traverse the road as we choose

Safe in the life you have paved, choice by choice, groove by groove

We follow the road, free to skip, free to run

Thank you Daddy. You don't even know what you've done.

But I see the power of the path you have hewn

I see the power of your life's steady tune

I know the choices you could have made

I celebrate the life and the price that you've paid

So Daddy, know now that your love is our fuel

Rest in the knowledge there is no more to do

You've won the race that man races each day

You've crafted a life leading your children to the Way.

I love you dad. We all do-so so so much. Thank you for being you. Thank you for millions of hugs and supportive words, and coaching moments, and education and freedom and safety and sound advice and compassionate listening. For everything. You are a powerful being of Light and we are grateful. Well-done, Daddy!! Well-done. 

Do not give in to feet on the ground thinking

Do not give in to "feet on the ground thinking"

Bastian did not keep his feet on the ground

 

What if life is a dream and death wakes you up?

Dreams. Beliefs. Openness. Balance.

I am here to bridge the night and day. The dream-world is real. More real than the awake- on- earth world. What is the goal that I cannot remember?

Look to the clues.

Books. Movies.

Neverending Story. Cloud Atlas. The Starless Sea. Enders Game. Slumdog Millionaire. Labyrinth. A Journey of Souls. Inception.

Allowing coincidences to be roadmaps. A story within a story within a story. Reincarnation. "You have no power over me." Energy as food. Choices. Trickery. Journeys. 

Tell me a story.

Once there was a little girl who saw orbs float out of her closet. She watched them warily and they lulled her to sleep. She felt safe under the covers and in her bed.

One day, upset with life, she went to the creek and sat on a large rock. She felt sorry for herself. She was alone and misunderstood, which probably was not true-true, but her belief made it so. She was startled out of her ruminating when a muskrat (was it a muskrat?) zoomed past her in a path just under the embankment. She rushed home to safety. She did not like that she had not known about the animal. That, combined with the snake she had found under a rock one day, kept her out of the creek. She was done exploring. Scared of the unknown.

She did not see the orbs again until she was a woman in her forties (was she really a woman?)

They came slowly, so not to startle her. They were staticky sparks. Then orbs. Then orbs with faces. She welcomed them back--not scared now. 

"Is she ready to go back to the creek?" they wonder. 

She contemplates. Does she want to lift up rocks and see snakes? Does she want to see unknown creatures that she does not suspect?

What a question!

She wants to say YES, but she is cautioned to acquiesce so readily. But she does want to say yes and she knows that counts for something.

She lifts up rocks in her dreams. She encounters the unknown creatures in her dreams. She explores in her dreams and does not fear. 

Why is life so scary when she knows in her heart that dreams are more perilous? 

"Just do it!" she decides. "Live." And so she does. She lifts up rocks and allows the snake to bite her hand. "Oh," she says, "your poison cannot kill me. I wonder what else I have been taught to fear that is not true."

She meets a porcupine that shoots its quills at her. She is taken to a healer and all is well. "That was not so bad," she thinks. 

She sees a man about to strike her with his mighty fist. He is angry and violent and manly. Two protectors fly in and fight in her stead. "I am sorry I was late," says one man, and she assures him he was right on time.

She wanders where she does not know the way. She enters doors and exits doors. She climbs rickety staircases and she exits down down down into dark and dank basements. 

She lives to dream another dream. "Can I bring this courage to the waking world?" she wonders. 

She wants to want to. And that makes all the difference.

Now tell me a truth.

7

7 means completeness and perfection. 

The number 7 represents the bridge between the human world and the heavens. It is the symbol of faith, spiritual awareness, and awakening.

Now! I mean it! I really, really mean it!

The Devil Lived Backwards

Why does the idea of hell persist?

Jesus met with the devil in the Bible, and was tested three times. What is the truth of this? Who is this devil exactly? If evil is living backwards, must one just rearrange their thoughts and actions to change the alchemy of their being. Is every one who lives backwards a devil, and simply one choice away from heaven?

It appears my Grandmother Lewis got married when she was pregnant with my aunt. It's impossible to know now (or maybe not with science being what it is) but I can't help but wonder if my grandma's husband, my grandfather, is the father of my Auntie Anne. And I wonder all of this only because I have the sense my grandma Lewis hasn't moved on to the light. I feel like she may cling to me, and wonder if she latches onto my energy in a way to avoid her divinity.

I know this is a strange and fanciful thought.

My sister Sara believes that Grandma moved on to heaven, stating that Grandma was religious and made pilgrimages to Jerusalem and other holy sites. I have a ring from one of these trips--I will find it and wear it.

So so so much of life is unknown. Discernment is needed. Looking inward, nebulous. I find I must return to the energetic awakening I had seven years ago--my prostate form on the floor, buzzing and expansive and the knowing, the knowing! that I Am Huge, and beautiful, and the universe. I must remember crying out over and over "I didn't know" and "I will hold God's people in my heart." I know if this moment was commonplace it would lose power, so I resign myself to remember the memory of it when I wonder if I Am fanciful and dramatic. When looking at the lives of saints and mystics, it seems to be a pattern; a few wondrous moments of revelation sparsely scattered throughout a life where the human endeavors to embody the wisdom and joy. The pain is in the loss of momentary certainty that fleetingly visits the dreamer.

It appears that some poets revisit the experience in nature and become expert at finding echoes of divinity in the daily experience. My guides seem to wish this for me. My moments come in my dreams, when I look into a dream beings eyes and See, truly See, that they are real and sentient. Impossible to prove, which seems to speak to another lesson my guides seem to keep in my awareness--pride and humility. Any awareness is not earned, not achieved. It may be marveled at, but not exploited. Sigh. I wonder how Pride and Humility have played out in my past lives.

Past lives. Progress made.

So often I dream of schools and plays and amusement parks. When will I get it through my thick skull that life on Earth is about experience? Why does life on Earth not inspire Passion in Me?

Dreams

Visions

Orbs

Insights

Wisdom

Past lives

Energy Healing

These are what inspire passion. Where does that all fit in to my story? How can these interests ignite Love in me? The idea that there is more pecks at me. How can I open up that truth to heal the people? I court inspiration. I court grace.

The devil doesn't have to be defeated, the devil needs to be redirected. The letters need to rearranged--the components are the same, it is the composition that is faulty. Sweet alchemy. Let me Love you, Devil. Let me look into your eyes and remind you what you are made of. We share the same ingredients--we are made of the same stuff. Put down your mantel; abandon this track. Do not simply follow in the footsteps of past choices. I see you. You do not fool me, Friend. I will not leave you orphaned. You too will be raised up on the last day. And though genius lies in eternal patience. I offer you my hand now. I Am not greater than love. Love is not greater than me. People tell me of evil and darkness and I do not deny it exists, I simply desire to rearrange the letters of the words.

The people that walk in darkness have seen a great light. For those who dwell in dark and sin, a light has shown. For a child is born this day. Rejoice. Rejoice. Daughters of Zion awake. The glory of God is born.

I Am that child. You are that child. We All are that child.

So is it any wonder that I find apathy in the human ideas of accomplishment? I cling to Ronnie, who echoes love so perfectly--reflects my love. Why would I want to leave his arms? Do I dare to believe that I Am changing the world as I dream at night? That I Am enough. If there was a book to write, I would write it. A cause to champion,I would rally. A new idea to germinate and foster, I would plant it. I know I have the desire to be what I have committed to be, yet I have amnesia.

As in the Matrix, once the pill has been swallowed, there is no way to un-know. Once a certain milestone has been reached, the way behind the dreamer is no longer an option. All the knowing and security of the past is ripped away, and the baby dreamer finds herself swimming in a sea of yesterday's ideas, struggling for buoyancy and squinting into the path ahead, searching for companions who can help support the new Wisdoms, the new Possibilities. How many babies will it take, I wonder?

If I am still stuck and powerless in limiting beliefs, I ask for guidance now. I know I do not know much. I try to believe that I am not alone and that unseen beings are supporting me in my growth and journey. I call upon beings of light and love to remind me of my path, my Godly intention, and my power to love.

All is well. All is well. All is always well.

So mote it be and so it is.

Recipe

I Am not my thoughts

I Am not my emotions

My thoughts and emotions are vehicles for choice

My thoughts and emotions are proof that I Am free to create my life

My thoughts and emotions prove that I Am sovereign

I look to convention.

Why do we allow convention to enslave us?

We can see many versions of convention throughout this planet, these peoples.

Does that not in and of itself prove that convention is not absolute?

I seek the core of me

I seek the part untouched by convention

I Am tired of the me that swats away the unwelcome thoughts and emotions 

Annoy me gnats! 

Buzz in my ear and swarm my space

Create bumps and itchy patches

I will

Learn to celebrate what the pests reveal

Eat my herbs

Take from me what will not wake me

Gnaw me down to my truth, to my marrow

Reveal the bones of me

I do not want to be the clone who ignores the drone of the teacher

I know not where I Am in the process

And wishing does not make it so

But the desire is there

To be free without care

Of the opinion of both friend and of foe

Convention has proven to be boring

Borrowed ideas and thoughts and sad tales

Of how we choose to be sleeping

Never questioning, always judging, using scales

Karen, come out and bask in sunshine

Radiate the light that you are

Fear is a palpable illusion

It stunts the search for the star

That is you, within you, without you

The stuff you are made of is pure

Karen, seek the one asking the questions

She is the One who crafts the recipe, the cure.

And I ask myself again and again and again and again

Who would I be if I were perception free?

My power lies in my ability to gain.

Let go of the conventions, Sweet Karen.

Let go of the thoughts

Let go of the emotions

The grasp of a greedy hand is gangrene for your soul.

The one who I Am keens the song of sixpence

I mourn I am torn, forlorn, now born

Born into an old way to be

I’ve traveled so far

Seen green fields and star

A vague Remembrance of God’s perfect me

Sometimes on the stair I feel I am there

But then stair transforms into slide

I cry to be back

In the world full of lack

And rail and rant at my guides

Quiet, sweet Karen

We are versions of you

Teacher, Wise Woman, Mentor

If it was easy to see the you that is me 

There’d be no power in this cosmic detour

Beauty you say?

I hope for the day

Where suffering feels noble and true

For to me

It seems be

The power of we

Isn’t in this worn mournful tune

But like Jill and Jack

I combat the lack

And I patch up my bucket anew

For when one has the taste

For wisdom and grace

The water is an irresistible brew.

So the gnats circle my head

I allow them to be

And trust that I won’t miss the gift

If it’s here, then it’s so

What do I know?

I am on a vacation from me.

Rooted

Just because you think it, doesn’t mean you believe it.

The other day, as I was doing laundry, a thought came to me that I clearly and completely recognized as not mine. (And down came the blackbird and snatched off her nose.) I knew, and know, absolutely that the thought was foreign to my belief system, and I marveled at it. Whose thought was it? Why was it my mind? What purpose was there in my thinking it?

If anything, it’s a relief to me. My heart knows the truth. My mind does not know the truth. My mind is not me. My heart is me.

So suddenly thoughts begin to lose their power. And I Am grateful.

And curious.

What are thoughts? Where do they come from?

I desire thoughts that resonate with MY HEART. Those are the thoughts I will celebrate and fuel and expound upon.

I am not going to take responsibility for every thought that enters my mind. That one thought was so anti-Karen, anti-love, that it hammered home to me the ridiculousness of thinking as defining oneself. I Am not my thoughts.

And if humanity’s thoughts insist on running through my brain, I have a choice on whether or not I will incubate that thought or expel it. Thoughts aren’t tangible, but they become so when given time and energy.

So, no more time and energy to what does not resonate with my heart. I declare it. Come as you will thought—I will not shame you, nor will I propagate you. You may wisp along as you will, but don’t expect purchase here. My heart is rooted in love, not thoughts.

So mote it be, and so it is.

A Letter to the Body

Dear Body,
I wanted to take a moment to let you know how I marvel at the mystery of you. Science can only go so far and tell us so much, and I am starting to understand that what we think we know to be true is evolving constantly.
Thank you Body. Thank you for your constant magic and mystery and life and bounty. Thank you for your support. Thank you for your love. You are the keeper of many secrets, and I Am grateful for your service, both seen and unseen.
I glimpse that you are a roadmap.
I pray that I may learn your signs and signals and milestones so that I may navigate my journey in complete alignment with you, for the benefit of myself and all sentient Beings.
I pray that I remember how expansive and huge and glorious I Am for the benefit of myself and all sentient Beings.
Thank you Body for making me enough!

I trust that illness is an integral part of this journey. I apologize to illness on behalf of myself and all humans for being in a war with you, Illness. We know not what we do. Take our hand Illness, I beseech you, on behalf of all of us who do not remember, and show us the beauty and majesty of the experience you provide us. I apologize for vilifying you. I apologize for trying to eradicate you with no regard to your message. I commit to working with you from this moment forward, for the benefit of myself and all sentient Beings.

I trust that all is working for my benefit.
I trust that all is in Divine order.
I acknowledge my lack of understanding as a powerful force for the Divine to move in, through, and around me.

I embrace every experience of the Body.
I love myself equally and fully in both sickness and in health.
I marry myself to this Body willingly and trust the purpose of this marriage is Divinely ordained.
I celebrate my Body.
I remember Jesus and the mystery of the cross and resurrection and know that the answers lie in the Body.
I allow all to unfold in perfect Divine Timing and I trust that, since I have knocked sincerely with a pure desire to be of Service to the One Who Made Me, that I cannot be led astray.

All is well, All is Well, All is Always Always Well.

And I will meet myself again and again and again in every Body that I see. I Am grateful for your Service Body. I trust that you will not lead me astray. I partner with you as I recommit myself to thriving on this earth and co-creating with you Body a new way to Be.

Amen.

Your truly and sincerely,
Karen 

When Wanting Words of Wisdom

I am wanting words of wisdom
Yet I cannot find a voice
Amongst the human beings
Who think they lack a choice.

Every belief so rigidly rigid
Defended and exhorted
I cringe and wonder how
The truth got twisted and distorted

And the strength of all the Yahoos
Has a power that overbears
The whispered words of wisdom
That brushes delicately at my ears

Who am I to rewrite history?
Who am I to doubt the tribe?
Who am I to walk on water?
Who am I to transcribe?

I hold God's people in my heart.
Sinew, Blood, and Bone
Energy of the Earth
Radiating a brand new tone

To trust in my own divinity
Is the mission of my life
To see myself in every eye
Embrace the pain that is rife

Filter through me sadness
Soak into me despair
Anger, Resentment, Boredom
Become my food and air

I will feel you and release you
I will love you and thank you for your care
You have been with us every moment
As we climb Salvation's Stairs

Your burden is my gift
Come and thrive within my Being
I will not try to dismiss or shun you
I see the power of the feeling

My atoms are your atoms
My cells renew with every pain
No mercy for me, Feelings
I came to let Love Reign

Anima opens up her heart
And embrace every pain
The Totality of the Now
Sings the song every heart contains

And as it gathers tone and texture
And mingles with the air
The one who came to sing it
Clears it from this earthly snare

She fills the empty space
With love and bright vibration
Who knew this little girl
Would be the world's salvation.

That I am my own expert continues to astound me.

But I will have faith in my experience and suspend my disbelief
I will unite myself with Jesus and give the All relief
And I will be the change I wish to see in the world
I will be my complete self with my wings unfurled

And I will love
I will love
I will love

Amen
So mote it be, and so it is.

Reality

I walked down the streets of Chicago
Proclaiming the city was so clean
My eyes on my feet and the sidewalk
Shining streets all I could glean

My daughter said let’s step on the cigarette butts
And I asked her how? They are not here.
She said, mom the cigarettes are everywhere
Suddenly the streets were far from clear.

Reality.
Is this what you felt Adam?
It this your experience, Eve?
Was your sin non-existent or unreported?
Suddenly, I wonder about what we see.

The joy of a Chicago vacation
The beauty of a family in love
Created a crystal clean reality
My eyes focused and seeing the Above

My truth, your truth, the truth
Diverse, yet One in the Same
Oh of course we are confused on this planet
We know not the rules of the game

Adam and Eve discovered they were playing
The day nakedness became a synonym to shame
What will it take to wake you?
Are you an active player in this earthly game?

Or do you stick to your truth and plod on?

Discern your reality and trace it back to its origin
Was it dictated to you?
Inherited?
Seen on tv?
Read on a feed?

My children. You are naked.
Born into this world free of clothing.
Innocent.
Beautiful.
Free.
Who told you it is wrong to be naked?
Who covered up your true essence?
Whose shame are you covering?
None of this is your fault.

Choose to choose
Slip through the noose
Remember you snooze
Say no to abuse
And
Be
Free.

So mote it be, and so it is.

Perseverance

AmnesiA
AisenmA

I long for something
I yearn
I yearn, People!
Fill
Me
complete me
Completely

Hungry
Desperate
Yearning

All the while
I’m learning
That I keep this world
Turning
With every thought
I’m burning
Up the old way to Be

Aching for the
Making
Of a new way to Be

It lives inside my bones
Crunching
Munching
Grinding
Binding
Remaking as it’s
Taking
my hard won sanity

When you know you know
Nothing
The world explodes

Boom
Big Bang
Baboon
Marooned on an island of One

I want adventure in the great wide somewhere
And the whisper answers
This is the greatest adventure of all
You are the greatest adventure of all

blasé
Bored
Bamboozled
Blasphemy?
Where is the backlash to my bitterness?

I don’t remember agreeing to this.
The aim, the goal, gone.
The street is too discrete
Have I lost my way?
If passion is the fuel to refashion,
I am clearly without a pattern
And the garment that I make is as elusive as the Emperor in His New Clothes

Gem there.
What Am I believing that is ruse?
Obtuse?
Still I snooze?
And March to the false tailors’ tune.

There is a song in me
But I cannot find it
There is a garment for me
But it does not fit
I walk on water
I walk on water
I walk on water

I persist
I cannot desist
This is a tryst
My dna has made

There are no accolades for you, Young Warrior

And he punches his fist through his mother’s womb and waves it frantically
Raging against the memory loss
That he agreed to in the Coming

So mote it be, and so it is.

Questions

How does love conquer fear?
How do we connect with our team?
How do we discern the path?
How do we believe that to be different is our power?

Where does this assurance come from?
Where is the place that knowing hides?
If we can't find it within, where the gurus say all the answers lie, where else can we look?
Must we cut through our own guts and wade through the blood and search every cell for release from the cell?

Where is the manual? Emmanuel? You'll know when you know is Not an answer.

What dreams should we act on? Which ones should we unravel? Who are we talking to as we meander with Morpheus.
The gurus say we are every character.
Who are these gurus? Why do they want our money? I am so confused.

My children, my children, my children.
I have cried tears for you today and I do not know why.
Again the words come Flit Float Fly.
Where is this rainbow bridge? What is the Fire of the Eye?

 What does this thirteenth skull portend? Pretend?

Fashion anew.

Invite Invite Invite and surrender to the fight you were made for flight yet still you fear the night. Unite. unite. Unite.

If you knew the answers you could never be made anew.

Surrender to your nature and step out of the plot of plotting. You aren't lazy when you Allow. Plow. The time is here for the harvesting, haven't you heard? Are you still the caged bird? Exit and exist. Play Play Play for tomorrow is a breath away.

And while these words seem empty and hollow echoing the thoughts of yesterday today tomorrow, trust that you have never been led astray. Take a bite out of the apple and savor the flavor one chew at a time. Genius lies in eternal patience and you are not guilty in every rule of thought.

Electric pulses ping and zing and still you cling to the need to be small. All these things and more so you too shall do. Sink or swim sink or swim sink or swim?

Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.

I know I know nothing and that is good.

Racehorse

My guides are preparing me for something
A shitstorm is headed my way
My body is already rebelling
My mind clueless and in disarray

‘You’ve trained for this’ they tell me
You’ve planned for this all along
Your body is already reacting
It knows the words to this future song

You are safe
You are loved
You are protected
This fear must be hurdled for you to go on
The racehorse is skittish but poweful
Your donkey hums your settling song

What is this warning portending?
I Am not Alone, at least that’s what you say
I don’t see the peril my body is feeling
The racehorse shudders, the brave donkey brays

Why am I tired of the people?
Why do I want to stay in my stall?
Is the race for them or for me?
I know the race is for the All

Are people betting on the racehorse?
The answer is yes, I know it’s true
Trust in your pedigree and training
Losing is not a possibility for you.

So again I have blinders obstructing
The path that I wish I could see
I Am open to the race of God’s choosing
And the settling song is hummed right on Key

Thoughts

I reached out to some gurus
Took a step
Was received as arrogant, ignorant and in danger

What am I doing?
Is anything even happening
I’m so tired and bored with this
Movement.
What movement?

I’ve read too many novels.

And joy?
And excitement?
And discovery?
And novelty?

I must be on the wrong path.

And fear
I don’t have it, so perhaps I am arrogant and ignorant
Their warnings fatigue me

There is no one to see me
There is no one to bolster me
There is no one to validate me

Gurus? Teachers? Tribe?

Whatever.
I completely capitulate and give up.

There is no evidence of progress or milestones met or anything at all.

Void empty meaningless pointless pretend
Who knows?
I felt something once.
I saw something once.
Who cares?
No one.

Done. Again. I’ll simply be this Karen and measure my life in coffee spoons. I wanted to be convinced of a Brighter way, but I guess I failed, because sameness and warnings and blah is what I see. There is no magic. There is no vortex and creating your own reality and pulling to you what you desire. I’ll count my blessings and be grateful, but that’s all I can promise now. Oh well.

Nothing to believe. Sigh. Alone. Tired. Defeated. Weary. Chagrined. Ridiculous.

What’s a dreamer, anyway? Nothing special

I Think I Know Something

I think I know something.
The dreams we dream at night are played out by sentient beings that know they are playing a role.
We on earth are sentient beings who haven’t been clued in to the fact we are characters in a dream.
The stage is set in our dreams each night, erected like a MASH unit.
When the dreamer becomes sentient in the dream, surprise is the result. The Director is looked to—the actors confused and ruffled—unused to an awakened dreamer.
How awake you are in your dreams is in correlation to how aware you are that you are an actor on earth.
When you begin teaching the actors in your dreams—sharing your mantras and truths and philosophies and love and acceptance—the veil thins and the entire fabric of existence changes.
Something new is born.
And being ok with not knowing if this is true and knowing this cannot be proven is another win for the Universe, for when you know you cannot know what hasn’t yet been created, your body understands something that your character can’t.
And then you know that your body has its own sentience. Your body has its own journey.
You ponder that you’ve been told that your body can die but your soul lives on, and now you wonder.
You wonder, wonder, wonder.
What was Jesus showing us on the cross?
Why is the Eucharist so powerful?
You’ve blindly followed the pack in so many matters. You know that truth is fluid and creation ever the unknowable.
What mystery of the body can be shattered, solved, refashioned and born?
I think I know something.
I think I know that the secret to life is immersing every aspect of being in the unknowable. For if it is known, it is old news.
Co-creators of new truths.
Co-creators of new ways of being.
The dreamer and dreams become interchangeable, and the universe expands and expands and expands and expands

A new day is dawning, for all those who weep.
And we build a city of God
Tears are turned into dancing
For our Lord, our Light and our Love
Has turned the night into day.

Skeleton Map

The Rainbow Bridge the double helix
The Thirteenth Skull a United brain
The body strives to reach a oneness
A technician enters-resets and retrains

The skeleton is the key to past glory
Chaos and order
One in the Same
The body rebuilds what man has distorted
The heart center throbs
And connects with the brain

No one can see you
A new day is dawning
The first of your kind
Creating anew

Power and majesty innate in the being
Humility rampant
Nothing earned
Naught to do

Know that the path is written in starlight
Know that the way
Exists in your cells
Know that what is
Cannot be undone
Know that by being
You ring the new bells

Exit and exist
A new day is dawning
Exit and exist
Refashioned
Refreshed
Exit and Exist
The clay has been molded
Exit and Exist
Impassioned
Impressed

Stamp down your foot
Snap your fingers two times
stamp down your foot
Groan and writhe a new rhyme
Pound out a new rhythm
Stomp a new tune
Carve a way of being
Fashion a new rune

The thirteenth skull remembers her promise
The thirteenth skull remembers her name
The thirteenth skull embraces her majesty
The thirteenth skull embodies all pain
She filters this pain through the perfection of her body
She embraces this pain in the room of her heart
She believes there is more than she can possibly remember
She knows that her soul is the end and the start

Ignite
Revel
Reveal
And make new
A new day is dawning for me and for you
A new way of Being
Carved out of the air
Mystical Alchemy
Be empty, prepare

The Stump

The stump the Giving Tree becomes has given me much to think about. I am a stump. Many of us are. The question is, did we become stumps out of living virtuously, being virtuous? Or, as I suspect in my case, did we become stumps for a secret, self-serving ulterior motive.

I seek wisdom. I seek counsel. I seek healing.

I give to keep myself safe. I give to try to manipulate the outcome of others’ emotions. Something within me does not want extreme emotions and avoids them at all costs.

I do not see the why of this clearly.

Unravel, Unravel, Unravel
And
Revel in Emotion.

You cannot force yourself to give from virtuos roots. You should not blame yourself for trying to keep yourself safe in a volatile world of emotion.
You have been here before, Sweet Karen. How can you love yourself more in this moment? What does loving Karen more in this moment look like?

Thank you Ego for once again barking my pain. Thank you for protecting me from the emotions that scare me. I am ready to shed this skin and experience life fully. I am ready to be genuine and act from my God-self, my true Divine-self.
I set my true Divine Nature free. I am strong enough now to face, embrace, and win the race that this world is. I do not seek limits, but unlimitedness. Thank you for your service Ego. Thank you for loving me and keeping me safe. I know now that there is no escaping pain. I know now that I am not to blame for pain in any form. I am innocent. Not guilty. Free.

I desire to believe and experience that
I Am safe
I desire to believe and experience that
I Am loved
I desire to believe and experience that
I Am cared for
I desire to believe and experience that
I Am protected
On this earth now, and everywhere, in every instance
At All Times.

The birds in the field do not worry.
I exit my cage
And roar my song

I seek wholeness
I seek truth
I seek Oneness

There is no escape from pain
There is no escape from anger
There is no escape from resentment

I know this

Life is truly too perfect to be fair

I invite all Beings to come rest upon my stump
I invite the Weary to settle down and wait
I invite my own heart a place on my stump
To hold God’s people in my heart is my fate.

I take a break from judgement.
Of myself and my progress I close my eyes
Exit and exist in every now moment
Trust whatever will arise

And always always always give it more love, not less.

I Am Love
I Am Light
I Am Free

There is a beauty and rightness in being me.

Authentic Dislike is more palatable than pretend love and admiration

Fake connection offends me.
I don’t like the low vibration of being offended. I will dig into that, I think.

I operated much of my life by following a set of rules of how a “good” person behaved, and self-judging on whether I met this nebulous criteria. I’ve tried to strip myself of “should” behaviour and trust my own natural instincts; my own version of What Would Karen Do?

Yesterday, I received a text that suggested a disingenuous intimacy. This is strange for me, since I know that I, personally, resonate instantly with some people and establish intimacy within minutes. Why was I so offended by this particular woman’s text? It reminds me of another relationship that I have—one that is fine if we keep to our authentic relationship, but falls apart when the other woman simulates what she wants our relationship to be.

Authentic dislike is more palatable than pretend love and admiration.

Though I wonder if I am a hypocrite in this. Perhaps it is time to clear the last vestiges of the world-made Karen. I’ve written of my Pollyanna nature. Perhaps, the authentic Pollyanna in me is clearing out the people-pleasing Pollyanna.

Dash away the cobwebs
Clear away debris
Unveil Authentic Karen
Show her face to me

She can only be offended
By mismatched tongue and heart
When that propensity lives within her
True and false must break apart

Burn away the one who thinks
She isn’t enough as she is
Gust away the one
Who still believes in sin

The only flaw in her is the one she can’t embrace
She must look into the mirror and accept each and every face
Sink into me, transform me, help me to remember
I Am the baby born on the 21st day of December
My innocence is my perfection
My soul untarnished and sin free
I release the habits of the world
I come back to the One I was always meant to be

Sing to me Apollo
I sink into your tune
I lay my body on top of yours
And form in my new cocoon

I mourn for those trapped in the smoke
I came down for the ones tricked by the mirrors
I invoke the Blood of the Lamb
I awake the powerful, archaic Seers

I look the slavers in the eye
I do not fear you
Nor do I hate you
You too are not free
I came not only for the chattle
But for the ones who trapped Essence
And lived off energy
You have had your place in this story
And now is your exit, your fall
But your God has still not forsaken you
You are embraced in the perfection of the All

Animus Acts

Ancestral chain, another link discovered
This is ugly
To kill with kindness disempowers and enslaves
I will not be a pawn in this game

So what to do, Animus?
Anima has made her observation.
What does one do with clarity?
No one is to blame.
The Seeker sought and discovered.
How does this chain break?
How is this manipulation redirected and healed?

Oh do not look at me with innocent eyes and speak your vacuous words with such feigned sincerity. If this was real my body and mind would not rebel so. I have more faith in me than that.
The game needs to end.
For my sake. For my daughters’ sakes, for my mother’s, and those down the ancestral line.

If there is a cord, I snip it.
If there is a link, I boil it down and fashion something new.
If my permission was given, I rescind it.
If I fed the flames of this fire, I take my oxygen and tinder with me and apply it somewhere new and healthy.

How do I pull myself from this cycle of victim hood?
I will not be your poison apple.
I will not be your oppressor.
I am no evil Disney character.

I will not give you what you need to play the role of victim. Find another character for your story. I withdraw from your sad pathetic play and set myself free. Free to be the one I want to be. Free to play the role of LOVE in Action, BEAUTY in Form, DIVINITY in Motion. I determine the character I will play, not you! I am the master of my sail. Not you!

Be gone! Animus has spoken and Anima agrees. They are each other’s best friends. United. Requited.

Go away Victim.
I wish you healed and whole, but you are not my responsibility.
Game over.

Mystery

The mystery of existence. I am me, and you and all. One bread, one body, one lord of all.

As my dreams prove to be real, I wonder at the nature of earthly life. I break a paradigm in my dream, and then my daughter manifests the results of that broken chain. In turn, my earthly reality shifts as she shows up healed, and we both benefit.

I am the ocean. I am the ocean in a drop.

We shape our own reality by awakening to this possibility—that we are each and every player on the stage.

If you aren’t getting enough appreciation for your spiritual gifts and insights, can you trace that down to your experience, Karen? If you don’t have enough mystery and excitement, do you see the root?

I have played around with the idea of blame for quite awhile now. I knew I wasn’t to blame, because if I could have it another, higher, more enlightened way, I would. But I can’t blame those around me either, if they are my unrealized realizations waiting to healed by my self love.

So no blame, it is as it is.

As I heal, my friends heal. As I embrace fullness, I see it around me. That is the reflection the gurus speak of, and the gurus are me, since all of this knowledge is mine, since this world exists inside the one I call me—Karen. I give myself hints and clues as I go.

When I see something that makes me uncomfortable, I can only wonder, where does that exist in me? What has appeared to be next in line to heal? Whatever Arises, Love That.

My dreams have given me this strange hint. As I see myself being given lines to say, such as, middle children feel excluded and less than their older brothers and sisters, the dreaming Karen tells the speaker, “if that is your reality,” recognizing her choice in embracing this idea or not. The confused speaker turns to the Watcher, and both astonished, allow her to move on without carrying the thought back to this world.

I now wonder where I feel trapped and stagnant and powerless, for I see that reflected back to me in the players of this world. I am willing to ferret out this and all plot lines, interested in being free of every limiting paradigm that plagues each aspect of the me that shows up in this play.

As I set aside my human mind that is not even able to defend such an idea of being everything that manifests in this dream life, I encourage the Karen that I Am to love her neighbor as herself, to choose love and appreciation in each moment, and to release all need for understanding the mystery.
Disharmony can harmonize in a now instant.

What to do? That’s easy. Nothing. Tuck this new echo of a realization away and be present in every moment. Strive to not strive but trust the process and have faith the I Am enough, since I am all that is, ever was, and ever shall be.

I have written the script—created every aspect of this world, and it is as real as my Dream world is proving itself to be. I try as I write this to see myself as separate from the other players, and in this moment of wisdom, it seems impossible. It will be possible in moments as this new truth fades into the tapestry of me—another thread woven in to show me where this play is heading.

Unite Unite Unite
One brain, one body, one soul.
Alpha and Omega.

Perhaps I felt trapped on this earthly plane. Can I let that go as I awaken to the realization that everything is me? Divinity in Form? The idea that I am a victim of existence is released. Sink in and swim, New Truth. Karen—keep frosty. You are what you seek.

I am every potential. How does my best world look? How does my favorite Karen appear? What is my version of utopia? Get clear Karen. Every possibility is a choice away. Create your Fantasia and every aspect of you is set free—free to be me, the only one I was ever meant to be.

BooM!

Listen up People.
I have another mirror to smash.
You’re welcome, though you do not say thank you.
So I will preach to me.
I will recognize my own wisdom,
and carry you on my back to the Promised Land.

Lack is not real.
Boom.
Shards litter the ground without a sound with one simple pound
Of my enlightened fist.

Your birthright is abundance.
Your name is written in the stars.
Why is there comfort in less than what you are made of?
Hugeness.
Expansiveness.
I acknowledge the infinite space for each of you and for myself and those who came before me and those who follow. I win.

I refuse to be refuse.

I am open open open and my expansiveness encompasses you in my heart of hearts.

It is done it is done it is done.

Come to me come to me come to me.

Boom.
Crash.
Crunch.

I walk across the slivered shards untouched and remake the image in the mirror.

I will not have it. Do you hear me? I will not have my people suffer one moment longer. I crack the rotted teeth of your fetid trick and punch my way through the layers of lies lies lies.

Twisted truths revealed—the mask finally peeled to reveal the rotting corpse of servitude and slavery.

I breathe into the abyss and smile my words.
Sweet peace.
Finally.

I celebrate me.
I acknowledge the I Am that false humility diseased and disguised.
I Celebrate the I Am that I Am.
Me.
I am my own validator of the gladiator.
Boom! Another mirror explodes.
I take a bow for the crowd of One.

Amen.
So mote it be, and so it is.

Parachute

With tears in my eyes I sew your parachute
I knot the ropes with intricate care
You comfort me as I double-stitch the seams
I pray to avoid rip and tear

It was easier to don my own backpack
The worry of failure in another’s hands
So different to be the maker of a parachute
To know you are the creator of plans

The adventurers of earth have amnesia
We land in a world cloaked in pain
Chained by our ancestors’ confusion
We embrace every fear—let love reign

Thank you for stitching my parachute
Each excruciating step of the mind
Delving deep into the miasma of humanness
Healing every lie that you find

‘You are enoughYou are worthy’ the wind whispers
Taking the needle in hand a great feat
Trusting the maker of your parachute is easy
Sewing your brother’s is the triumph that we seek

We are One, We are All, feel the connection
A stitch for you, a stitch for me, a garment made
Feel the healing of the fabric beneath your fingers
You are the tailor of your healing for which you’ve prayed.