Lilith (Shapeshifter)

 

“Before there was Eve, there was Lilith.

She rose out of the dust, the thought erupting in the mind of God. 

Form.  Gender.  Yin.

She rose next to Adam. 

Form.  Gender.  Yang.

The eternal fire was born.

But although Adam and Lilith channeled elemental love and desire, they also channeled the primal conflict of domination and submission.  Lilith refused to submit.  And Adam didn’t like that.  Or so it is recorded time and again.  Numerous records say this is all about her unwillingness to lie beneath him, in so many words.  The patriarchy tells a story in which a woman demanding equality (sexually, intellectually, in all forms of power) is unacceptable.  Adam’s love for Lilith became twisted and fear-based, and his passion turned into a need for control.  Maybe there is another expression of Adam that has not been told….I truly hope so.”

The old woman closed her eyes in a moment of silent prayer, then continued:

“Lilith inherently understood that nothing and no one can be owned, only perceived and experienced for the moments we are given.  But she was thousands of years ahead of her time.

Her only choice was escape.  Like the Phoenix, Lilith freed herself in remembrance and self-realization…returning to the eternal source.  One can liken this source to the void from which creation is spawned, the black hole at the center of every galaxy, the womb of the universe.

In her awakening, Lilith saw the grand design of existence that was yet to come.  She kept her identity, not as density in a body, but as spirit.  She became everything imaginable that a woman can be.

Yes, everything.

Some legends tell us that Lilith became Queen of the Underworld, birthing all the demon children to begin the realms of Hell.  She is the Succubus and the Siren, the Wanton Temptress, the Evil Witch.  She is ecstatic, she is crazy, she is fearless and relentless.  She is everything both desired and hated.

The message given is to fear her and despise her.  Blame her for all your bad luck.  Protect yourself from her knocking at the door of your knowing, the door of your senses.  Block out her voice whispering to you: “What do you really want?”

She is that which will never be kept, never be controlled.  She is wild and fierce and she is here to mess up your life and your head and wake you up to your own FREEDOM.  She exists in 4 places of the zodiac.  She rises like the Phoenix and she multiplies.

This is how more awakened women are born.”

The old woman took a pause, and calmly sipped her tea with her twinkling green eyes fixed on her beloved granddaughters.

Athena, the younger sister, was especially studious in the realms of astrology and mysticism.  Catching the pause, she quickly piped up: “We know Grandmother, she is Black Moon Lilith, Dark Moon Lilith, Asteroid Lilith and Oscillating Lilith.  She is the Dark Angel; she speaks to us of our desires and our power.”

“Yes dear, good memory.”  The old woman smiled and spoke in a low voice, “However, you can ‘know’all the facts about Lilith, but not know her.”  She spoke slowly, “Your time will come.  You are young and innocent and protected.  Just remember that the Dark Angel has teachings for you and she stands at the edge of your consciousness.  She is the place of letting go and surrender, as well as the place of facing fears and going to battle with your worst nightmares.”

Phoebe was slightly older and quieter, and she glowed with serenity.  From the age of 2, she had been gaining the reputation as natural medicine woman, effortlessly dialed in to the wisdom and magic of plants and animals.  The stories passed down from her grandmother gave structure and guidance to her sensitivities, cementing the value of feminine healing into the fabric of her life purpose.  She could feel the thirst of the entire planet, the basic thirst for love.

Phoebe stroked her grandmother’s hand and touched her forehead to the soft, aging skin in gratitude.  She smiled into the old woman’s face and the old woman smiled back.

*

PART 2: Eve and the Snake

 

“Will you tell us the story of Eve again, grandmother?” Phoebe implored.

The old woman closed her eyes.  Her chair was cozy, her granddaughters were sitting close and her body was not in too much pain.  Her heart was full and a smile played upon her mind.  Why not tell the story that they loved?

She sipped her tea and began:

“Yes, Eve.  Dawn of Creation.  Our Mother.  The One who gets blamed for all the faults in and of the world.  Eve was born of Adam’s body.  Since Lilith had vanished (or been banished), unable to stay in form, Adam lent the density of his own form to the female creation.  And as an extension of Adam’s own body, Eve was willing to let him set the terms for their relationship.  It worked for a time.”  The old woman chuckled to herself, and the sisters grinned at one another while each holding a hand of their wise and mysterious grandmother.

“Adam and Eve walked in the Garden.  The mind of God was awake, and consciousness had taken human form.  It was blissful.  It was peace.  Just existence, needing nothing.  All wonderful.

Man and Woman were experiencing the earthly delights, free of any concept of greed or shame.  They knew themselves as innocent because they knew their oneness with each other and with the Creator.  Nothing had interrupted that understanding.

Or had it?”

“And then who comes along?” both sisters chimed in lilting voices, as if on cue.

“That’s right my darlings, who does come along?  Yes, yes, forever misunderstood.  The Teacher, the Alchemist, the Shapeshifter.  The One who came before.

The Snake came along, sliding like poetry and serene with inner-knowing.  She was right there all along, but Eve’s consciousness found her.  Some would argue that Lilith returned to form as the Snake in order to share the understanding of Karma, Samsara and the cycle of life-death-rebirth.  Who can know?  Who can say?”

The grandmother gave her usual shrug and sideways smile, her voice sounding nonchalant.  She took another sip of tea.

“Lilith had been awakened.  She saw it all; she had surrendered to the endless possibilities of universal consciousness.  She took form as the Snake, and the divine feminine with the awakened mind encountered the divine feminine existing as bliss.

Who is hunting who?  The Snake or Eve?  Eve or the Snake?  The search for knowing was there before the beginning.  Before any form could be had.”

“It was like the Big Bang,” said Athena with her infectious smile.

“Correct,” the old woman replied, while admiring how well the girl was tracking.  “It had to happen.  It was consciousness awakening to itself.  Awakening within itself.  Snake rises like the kundalini, rising from the base of the spine and coiling her way upward, igniting every chakra.  Snake is awareness.  Which is why she guards the Tree of Life.”

“She is described as a thief!  A scoundrel.  A manipulator.” Phoebe’s bright face darkened as she pointed out the common fabrication of evil projected onto the Snake.

“Yes, yes.  So much fear.  The fear to see who we are.  To speak of our desires.  The fear of choosing to think for ourselves.  The fear of feeling anything and everything.

Can we compare this to the awakening of the Buddha?  Living in bliss, unaware of any pain.  Protected from the greater ‘reality’ at all cost.  But then something within pulls him to discover the life that exists outside of his palace walls, and he is forever changed.  He sees the vicious cycle of life and death.  He sees suffering and Samsara.  Only then can he awaken (much later after much spiritual practice!).

One perspective is that the Buddha found his way out of Samsara because Eve found her way in.  How can one return to an awareness of Being if one has never left that awareness?

Both Lilith and Eve are recorded as making inadmissible mistakes.  And this is where we see ignorance breeding fear and fear breeding hate.”

The young women closed their eyes and listened to their grandmother’s voice, sparkling like morning dew on the web of the story of life.  Giving homage to the mystery.

The old woman surrendered to the words:

“The fear of Wisdom

The fear of Knowing and Experiencing

Existence

Some kind of primordial misogyny, born out of this Age-Old tale

‘Stupid girl’ – referring to Eve

‘Evil’ – referring to the Snake

‘Innocent Adam,’ seduced into temptation by his own wife

‘Idiot Adam,’ never again should he let himself be played by a woman

Forever remember that Eve let herself become prey to manipulation and in turn became the manipulator

Strip her of her power as punishment

And God, what did ‘He’ do? 

He was angry!  He cast them out.

He was saddened and disappointed.  He felt betrayed. 

He called for Separation

What a human thing to do.”

 

The old woman’s gravelly voice rolled on:

“I see a different story

I am not alone

Who is to say, who is right and who is wrong?

The Tree of Life

Beating, Breathing, Knowing

The Snake of Wisdom

Mystery and the Unknown

The desire to Know and to Experience

The desire to feel

Out of the Dark

Came the Light

To cast a brightness on every nuance, every possibility

Every pain and every pleasure

Offering us complete freedom

The path we take to return home is as individual as the body carrying the mind that has chosen

THIS, dear ones!”

 

The old woman looked at her granddaughters, both sitting silently, eyes closed, their faces turned up toward her, their matriarch.  She was the woman they would forever thank for reminding them of the truth of their being.  For allowing them and encouraging them to show up fully as themselves, to experience as many colors of life as their desires would lead them to.  For softly showing them how to put aside all attachment to their identity in order to find an even deeper freedom, to reconnect to the shining emptiness of the Source from which we all originate and return to.  Nothing to fix.  Nothing to hide.  Nothing to prove.

Phoebe and Athena both opened their eyes slowly.  Their calm faces were radiant and full of life and love.

The old woman finished the story:

“You know the ending, my darlings, the one that is also the beginning.”

The sisters nodded.

THIS choice, to awaken in the mind of God.  To eat the fruit of Wisdom from the Tree of Life.  THIS is the kind of energy it takes to power the Big Bang and to set the Cosmos in motion for eternity as we know it.

The story is still beginning.

A change is coming and we can feel it.

This life is like a rope – and we are swinging between delusion and realization.  To attempt to cast anyone’s experience outside of the realm of your understanding and compassion is a grave mistake.

Eve has been the teenage boy who suffers low self-esteem and acts violently as a result.  Adam has been the woman begging for change, missing her teeth, skinny as a rail and making you want to look away.  Lilith has been every neglected child everywhere.  She exists in every girl, boy, woman and man who has had their sense of self stripped away and must fight to reclaim their dignity.

Lilith exists in the darkness as a source of strength for anyone who is experiencing or healing from abuse, in particular sexual and psychological abuse.  She will ride with you in the hell realms as you slay every imaginable demon blocking you from the brilliance of your own endless being.

The Tree of Life was meant to be eaten from.  And we are meant to live and live and live again, so that we may finally begin to recognize one another for who we really are.

The fruit is placed before us.

We are hungry for the truth it contains.

This moment is the opportunity to take it in.

If not now, then when?”

*

 

Oh, Intimacy.

Intimacy.

It sounds so appealing, doesn’t it?   Enticing.  Fun.  Close.

Sexy.  Safe.  Secret.

Fantasy made real.

But then there’s the uncomfortable feelings that might occur.  Like fear and insecurity.  Or jealousy.  Issues of control.  Attachment.  Need and want.  Vulnerability.

Oh, shit.

It’s one thing to send someone a sexy photo of some naked portion of your body under just the right light.  It’s another to stand naked with your feelings and thoughts in front of someone without playing games of shielding.

For me, stepping into intimacy has been a slow journey.  I learned to hide early on, to transform myself on a superficial level to accommodate the external world.  I learned to be a yes girl.  An actress in everyone else’s story but my own.  I picked up on cues… what will make them like me?  What will make me acceptable?  How can I get the attention I need?   With men, I shared my body, but not my truth.  How intimate is that?  Not very.

None of this is unique!  A common, common story.

I denied myself food, and pleasure, and fun, and self-love.  My breath was shallow, my thoughts were often shallow.  My sense of suffering was chronic.  The paradigm I believed in depended on my oblivion to what it was that I actually wanted to experience.  My “want” was insidiously driven by the power of external validation.  The story of chasing my worth outside of myself, looking for love while holding my breath, is long and sort of boring.  It’s a story of false starts and dead ends.  A story of resisting my own knowing.

Intimacy is like waking up sober from your own thoughts, your own story.  It is the is-ness that is here now.

Intimacy has everything to do with honoring what feels good rather than what looks good.  Living without the story of some external reward or external validation, I am free to realize that breathing feels good.  Listening to my body feels good.  Self-love in its many forms of expression feels good.  Following my intuition feels good.  Not rushing to decide, respond or act feels good.

When I am free from the story of what I should or should not look like, feel like, accomplish or gain – I can look around with fresh eyes at this world that is truly, constantly, my own reflection.  I can move from that place.  I can smile first, or love, or hug.  I can receive.

I can say yes, gladly and honestly.  I can say no, simply.

Oh, Intimacy.

Dare I approach you?  Dare I let you in?  Dare I sit in stillness and ask the question: “Who?”

Who is having these thoughts?  Who is watching them?  Who is feeling the emotion?  Who is observing the feelings?  Who owns the sense of lack or want or need?

Who is chasing?  Who is forgetting and who is remembering?  Who is breathing in?  Who is letting it go?

Ohhhh…

So close, so intimate.  So completely woven into the tapestry of our lives, our stories.

Who is weaving?

 

Namaste.

 

 

Undateable

As the day of love approaches, I find myself considering putting myself back on “the online market” so to speak, as in online dating.  I’ve done it before, but it’s been over a year and I stopped because I wasn’t having very much fun.  However, I’ve heard of a couple of newer sites that sound like they might be worth a try, and besides – it’s all about where you’re at in the moment, right?  We attract that which we are vibing, that which we are putting out in the Universe.

I question the validity of my efforts, though, for there are a few “snags” in my fabric that make me feel a bit ~ you guessed it ~ undateable:

  • I’m a cat lady. I’m also a little crazy, but that is not a diagnosed condition, just my own self-assessment.  I only have two cats, but they are my children.  And they are the glue that holds my family together.  So my potential mate must like cats.  He must not be allergic to cats.  And he must specifically receive signs of approval from MY cats.  No pressure.
  • I am a single parent of teenage boys. I have been a single parent through the majority of their childhood.  I’m decent at it, but I won’t lie – the challenges are real and constant.  I love my boys something fierce.  And I bow to them as my greatest teachers.  They come first, always.  I need and desire a relationship in which I am understood as a mother.  I wear many hats and my superpowers are vast.  But damn, I could use a break sometimes.  Men I’ve dated often think they get it, but then they don’t.  This does not seem to be contingent on their own experience of raising children, but guys with kids potentially have more of a clue. “Potentially” being the key word….
  • My mind is cracked open to the awareness of human suffering. I care deeply.  Specifically, issues regarding sexism, violence against women, racism, violence against people of color, economic oppression, disregard of people living in poverty, violence against children, and the subtle yet violent brainwashing of men.  I want to talk about these things.  I want a meaningful discourse about these realities with the person I am dating.  I crave an ongoing conversation that makes our hearts softer and our words more kind, even as the pain of understanding suffering breaks our hearts and minds.  I don’t want the band-aid or the kool-aid!  Please, travel in this space with me.  Not for me, but because your soul is aware of its own contract and you, too, have come here to awaken and forgive, love and forgive, be and forgive, forgive, forgive.
  • I have experienced the end of myself. For many years, I kept hitting a cement wall (the end of myself), and it would feel painful and it would be a huge learning experience, but I kept re-creating my identity and my attachments.  Somehow, over time, I have given myself over to this death.  I still attach myself to my identity, but it is somehow looser, kinder and more porous.  The “me” I thought I was isn’t real.  This I know.  The “me” I identify with today is only temporary.  I long to constantly experience the end of myself, for that is the glimpse I have into a life of freedom.
  • When “I” stop clinging to “me” there is a letting go that usually makes me weep because I am so grateful and so relieved.  It is like a load of ten thousand bricks has been lifted from my mind and I can feel, for a moment, that the life that breathes and moves in this body is eternal and sacred and unaffected by conditions.  This presence is deathless, changeless and undeterred by my creative displays of suffering and story-telling.  In fact, it is through these experiences of suffering, these “dreams” if you will, that I seek the end of myself more and more.  Suffering was my introduction to freedom, for it was in times of trial that I rigorously pursued the presence of unwavering love.  I chased my lies until I found the thing that was far more interesting, and to this day I drop to my knees in my heart center when I feel this end, this death, this eternal nature.  I feel it as the the living water, and still I know that I am only grazing the surface of how brilliant it really is.

 

I suppose these are not too many deterrents, but in my experience, the trail gets less and less crowded on the path of soul-reckoning.  There often seem to be more women than men on this trail.  It is somewhat inconvenient that I am primarily straight.  So good luck to me!  Ha! 😉

Also, blessings and love to you – whoever and however you may be – on your love journey and in your seeking.  Namaste.

 

 

 

Dear Men, my Brothers!

This week I have learned about the existence of a man named Daryush Valizadeh (Roosh V.) who is organizing men world-wide in support of legalizing and condoning the raping of women.  What the fuck.  No, seriously.  WHAT THE FUCK???!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Men, my Brothers, please organize yourselves against this war on women.  Please do not let this man create the definition of “Neomasculinity” or brand “Return of Kings.”

Rise up, Men!  You have to speak, you have to act, you have to be heard and seen.  Yes, you have to listen, but so many of you already know what needs to change.

Supposedly Valizadeh is canceling the events that were planned for this Saturday because of death threats and such.  He has garnered so much attention from all of this, become a media sensation.  So maybe we should all just look away and not give him the attention he is seeking and the sick pleasure of outraging almost everyone who learns of his existence.

But we can’t look away.  We, women, we can’t look away.  I’m tired of looking, believe me.  But I’m more tired of seeing nothing change.  Seeing that the illness of misogyny is alive and well (and not just in the form of Valizadeh and his followers) is making me very, very tired.

Hearing women crying, raging, and grieving the effects of misogyny, but not hearing the voices of men is making me tired.

Men, my Brothers, don’t let this man represent you.  Don’t let the teachings of using your sex as a weapon be cast off as “satire” or cause you to simply label Valizadeh as “crazy” and move on to the next headline.

Please, my Brothers, use your voices, use your hearts, and organize yourselves as the real Kings that you are.  Whatever has gotten in the way of remembering the beauty and power that exists at the core of your being, cast it off now!  Shed the lies constantly!  Look each other square in the eye and remind each other of the honor and responsibility that the entire world so badly needs from you.  And please, please, please, whether or not you have children of your own, shepherd the boys of this world to connect to their own humanity and support their tender and precarious growth.

Every man becomes a reflection to these growing boys.

I’m over it, you guys.  I’m tired.  Let me hear your voices, read your words and feel your presence in this walk toward freedom and safety for each and every one of us.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu

(May all beings everywhere be happy and free)

From the Gospel of Thomas:

“If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.”

 

The Matriarchy

 

There is ecstasy in forgetting yourself.

There is bliss in remembering yourself.

All streams are leading back to the Ocean,

darling pilgrim of the heart.

The Ages are shaping you

into a prism of light that carries every experience

and offers every freedom.

Run towards it!

Chase this light as you live, work, love, eat, sleep and dream.

You are the beautiful vessel

for this dance.

*

Come to me

with the light in your eyes,

Come.

Speak to me

in a voice hushed with reverence

for this,

this waking up.

*

Talk to me of everything you know

and everything you’ve forgotten.

I want to hear your stories of redemption, grief, loss and triumph.

I want to know how you became the Phoenix

and how you learned to forgive.

I want to hold the key to your joy

and treat it like it is my own.

*

Please hunt your own heart,

the way you used to hunt the sacred Buffalo.

And I will birth the teachings of our ancestors,

the way I’ve given birth for generations.

And slowly,

the tides of inequality

are turning.

Your voice quiets with understanding,

with feeling and with honor.

You are learning to love yourself again.

My voice becomes clear and resonant.  I embody respect.

There is no senseless seeking now.

The veil has been lifted and the illusions are falling away

to reveal our innocence

and our delight.

We are alive

by some miraculous power.

*

The sublime Teacher

carries our boat along,

like the river

rushing back to the Ocean.

This Ocean

is where the Matriarchy is headed.

*

 

The New Sexy

There are men who don’t want to wake up.  There are men who are completely satisfied with the brain-numbing distraction, stress and entertainment that is targeted at them from a young age.  Maybe not satisfied completely, as in to-the-core, but placated enough, appeased enough, to shut up and let the current take them wherever it’s going.

There are men in various stages of waking up.  There are men who intellectually consider women as their equals, at least in public, for the most part.  But even these men find themselves forgetting when they become attracted to a woman, or annoyed by a woman, or in a position of power over a woman.  The woman is a commodity, and she is wanted or unwanted.

Woman is image.  She is form.  We like it, we invite it, we want more of it.  She has a face, but no name.  Or just a body.  Her face is not necessary, not if it gets in the way.  Her voice is a nice addition if it is seductive enough, and if she says what we want to hear.  Woman is here to satiate.  That is all.

The “good woman” works very hard and asks for little in return.  She is “pure” for all intensive purposes, but as kinky as her man desires when he desires it.  She does everything right and she looks good while doing it; she volunteers, cooks, attends all the meetings, sits with the children in the evening to patiently work on their homework with them.  Her kindness is never-ending.  Her demeanor is sweet and placid.  The food she prepares is delicious and creative.  She takes lots of advice from Pinterest.  And she works out religiously, in her magically-occurring spare time!  She is superwoman.  She has tons of friends, so she’s never lonely, but she always prioritizes time for her man.  She is ever-faithful.  She is drama-free.

Not all of us can be the “good woman” all of the time.  Many of us don’t care to follow any kind of prescribed path, ever.

Many, many women are in various stages of waking up.  I am one of them.

Despite being raised by a progressive single-mother in a liberal part of the country, despite my classes in Women’s Studies, despite a plethora of teachings about equality that I was given throughout my childhood and adolescence, I have forgotten my birthright time and again.  For many years, the drive to attain “what looks good” versus “what feels good” ran strong in me.  I was blind to it, for it was as simple as my will to survive, that impulse to please men.  Not all of them, of course, but when they entered my energy field, when they somehow applied to my life, I had to acquiesce. I trusted their desire for me (or lack thereof) more than I could trust my own sense of self.  I had no concept of what I actually wanted to experience because I had somehow been programmed to “make him want you/like you/love you.”  And yes, at times I felt like a shell of a human being.

The men weren’t doing anything WRONG, per se.  They were just letting me please them.  How convenient.  Another young lady who doesn’t know her worth, nothing new to see there.

But now, everything is different.  Not in the world.  But in this mind that has shifted its view, from outward to in.  The awakening of consciousness can be slow and weird and awkward.  There is this long stage of transformation that may last lifetimes.  As I learn to exist as Awareness, I am not a caterpillar anymore.  Neither am I the butterfly.  I am primordial soup.  I look and feel nothing like I did before I surrendered to the process.  What I am becoming is not yet revealed.  I am soup.  Dismantled.  Messy.  Unknown, except to the One who shapes me.

I live and breathe and move in the body.  I might appear to have it all together at certain times, from certain flattering angles.  I assure you, I do not!

Despite this mess, I do so want to experience the ecstasy of union with a man who can walk this path with me.  But a man like this is rare to find.

Men have an incredible opportunity and responsibility at this stage in our human evolution.  Every man has his own birthright that is calling to him, singing to him, and literally crying for him to claim it.  By gender alone, a man is given power.  This power is a tool or a weapon, and his choice is critical.

Many men would never even consider acting in violence against a woman, child or other more vulnerable being.  But few men will put themselves in the public eye to speak out against that kind of brutality.  Few men are forming coalitions to end sexism and to heals its wounds.  Few men feel brave enough to stand up to other men to stop the cycles of abuse that continue to run rampant in every country around the world.  Few men are seen outwardly grieving the tragedies of war – simply grieving, as in accepting the losses and feeling the impact, without running away with plans to retaliate with more guns and bigger bombs.

Few and far between are the men who are willing to speak out about their own wounds and become teachers and guides for other men who are also learning to heal.  To speak of emotions, pain, vulnerability and the need for healing is a dangerous act for many men.  Few risk it, but some do, and those some have a huge impact.  Because men haven’t just been dehumanizing women for millennia, they have been dehumanizing themselves at the same time.  Patriarchy is a bitch, for all of us.  And those men who are tearing it down are reclaiming the jewel of masculinity.

And that jewel, my friends, is incredibly sexy, indeed!

 

Shadow Men

The men of shadows like me

Because I know how to dance in their dark streets with my light

and I am unafraid of their secrets

Out of curiosity, compulsion and naivety

I have wandered into their inner chambers

Craving the pull, but all the while a sinking feeling

and trying to ignore it

Craving the story

‘cause I saw it in a movie

And every form of media

and residual karma

*

But it doesn’t take long

for the windows to disappear

and for the reek of loneliness to fill the stale air

Your internal temperature gets colder,

the closer you get to a man like this

And when you arrive as far as he will let you in

you might feel lost while looking at your reflection

*

What were you seeking when you traveled so far away

from safety and from love?

An experience that leaves your soul feeling weathered and torn

rather than comforted and cared for?

You knew –

it would end this way

leave you feeling this way

You knew,

but something drew you in

and you wanted the poison instead of the Prasad

*

Like a Siren’s call, you were called

to these shadow men

The Everything in you trying to understand itself

Feeling yourself the lowest of the low,

you ate garbage and developed

sunken eyes

Yet still, somehow you managed

to preserve your ember

while entering the mouth of the Wolf

That place where you have to die to survive

and break your promises or at least

omit the truth

Lest everything you love get stolen

broken or desecrated

That place will forever remind you

that things can always get worse

And you must find your way out of this mess

*

Your breath becomes shallow

A listlessness begins choking you

You are defeated by the lies you kept telling yourself,

now disappointing and shabby in the light of day

While the good people of the world

have coffee and dreams and commitments they love to keep

You have this –

shadow to reckon with

And you feel tired

like you spent all night digging yourself

another grave

*

*

Time, great healer

Wash me in your Ocean

Ring me out like the robes you will have me wear

when I meet you at last, for tea

*

*

She walks alone and alone

She walks alone and not alone

She stops pretending to know everything and she becomes

a beginner, what an honor

She left the dark streets

and dark avenues

full of tempting, lurking shadow men

The ones who made her look angelic,

if only for a little while

She found this path, instead

High into the mountains

Take off your shoes

*

The Gurus appear in her dreams

when she walks this way

up the many steps

in the misty grey morning

Up the many steps,

she is visually hydrated

by the bright green moss and wild foliage,

all covered with dew

The moist, cool air

filling her nostrils with the fragrance of clean, dark earth

Tiny white flowers

singing praises with her crumbling identity

and ecstatic heart

*

Oh Deathless One,

these shadow men

They just can’t light my fire

like You

*