Friday, June 14, 2024

Me In A Dream

The things I feel when I look at these trees, the way the leaves sparkle in the afternoon sun. The way they move as the wind passes through. I swear they're talking. I swear they're whispering the secrets of the universe. It's too bad I don't have the ears to hear. 

I know the birds are saying something, too. What are they saying? I could ask Barbatos but I daren't. My mind isn't anchored enough for such a task, an endeavour. 

I'd rather dream in this place as the angels and demons fight it all out. We can't fathom what takes place in the invisible world as we play our petty, insignificant games. As above, so below. 

It got me thinking....When things get so bad on this plane, it must be because of a war raging on the other side between the light and the dark. I used to think peace came from the elimination of evil. That was never true. It can't be true. They've always been two sides of the same coin. They exist simultaneously. There'd be nothing to strive for in a perfect world.

Here I am. Feet firmly planted. But this heart, this heart that is mine, floats between worlds. I'm shallow. I'm deep. I'm lost. I'm found again. 

I flutter in weakness on this plane when I try to belong. It wouldn't work between us...except when I'm shallow, too. When I play the game like talk of marble countertops and kitchen cabinets is super important. Or, how retirement is the goal

Then I'd grow weary when he wants to stay in that zone and gossip about how nasty and stupid people are. How he's got it all figured out. How living up north is so much better than living in the downtown core. How he's so great and such a good person.

I'll remember how death comes for all of us, how it's a fact, a mathematical certainty, how it can't be any other way...and how feelings are fleeting, how they can deceive in the moment when our lower parts are leading the way, unbeknownst to us. 

So, I stay in this little dream in the sky. I imagine how pockets of it are 'true' and beautiful...as I watch them slowly evaporate and become the air that carresses the leaves on the trees...

This intoxicating dream keeps me drunk with misplaced hope. It's okay. I enjoy being taken to far away places. This world of the living was made for people like me. But, since we are outnumbered, it's ruled by those who will remain forever asleep...

Wednesday, June 12, 2024

"The Art Of Principalities"

The other day, I asked why I'm here. And in a flash, I heard, "To feel." When I heard it, I nodded as if I was coming back to a memory I don't remember ever having. Yet, I knew it to be true.

There was both relief and disappointment in the knowing. Most of us run from our feelings. Well, the challenging ones, anyway. I thought I'd get another kind of answer, something more 'meaningful.' Like, "You're here to do something grand and majestic, something really important." Instead, I essentially got, "You're here to...love."

I guess that's beautiful? It's not that it's hard to love. It's not even that it's hard to love, intensely. It's that it's almost too easy. There are days I despise this world and all the people in it. And then I catch a glimpse of someone walking by, and my heart wells up. What the fu*k? 

Even for the greedy bastard. Let me preface, even for the one I deem to be a greedy bastard. I'm learning not to judge...for good or for bad. Either way, I could be wrong about such person. But, feelings are neither right or wrong, you see. So, this feeling - which is not pity - opens up my heart and I well up.

The act of welling up and pouring out is an act of love. I learned that we take on some of God's suffering by doing so. I've asked myself whether this process happens because I'm automatically putting myself in someone else's shoes. But when I observe more closely, I feel the feeling first and then I imagine what life is like for so and so. 

This direct, straight to the heart, trigger feels warm and watery...and fast acting. The sensation in the heart becomes expansive as though it's literally being massaged open. Kind of like a small mercy in the sense that it usn't being ripped open. And, it's painful. Not a physical pain...not like anything you might feel in your back or legs or head or any other part of the body. It's a throbbing, emotional and spiritual, discomfort.  Maybe like grief. Except with grief, we tend to reserve it for loved ones or heroes and not for strangers. Never for strangers.

This is different. And then you realize the stranger is you and you are the stranger, too. They're all my brothers and sisters. Even the ass-holes.

At the same time, I'll always champion the under dog. My heart belongs to the under dog, through and through.

I want to keep a record. A few months ago, maybe sooner than that, I woke up from a dream with the words, "The Art of Principalities." Principalities? What does that mean? While I was on the couch, I mentioned it to my husband. I had looked online as I normally do when words come to me I have no understanding of. There were references about princes and another about angels.

My husband has recently resumed study in magick. One morning, he left a print out for me about the hierarchy of angels. I folded the sheet and told myself to look at it once I was at the cafe. Well, the first to catch my eye was, "Principalities." I thought of Uriel and his scrolls/sacred books. The word "angel" means messenger...There are supposedly, 9 ranks of angels, Principalites being the third one, responsible for overseeing and influencing humanity from above.

Why...the 'art' of principalities ? I find that intriguing. Like Robert Pirsig's book, "The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance." Art and Maintenance don't seem to go together. One is warm and the other feels cool. Art and Angels might but 'art' implies there's another way to do something you may not have considered or a different approach you could adopt. A way to live life differently...with more beauty or something. And since angels are perfect and humans are not, maybe art in this sense means a kind of wisdom imparted by the angels to humans.

I don't know...something's happening. It's both a blessing and a burden when the veil begins to lift.

Tuesday, June 4, 2024

Angel Uriel

I find myself some mornings coming out of a dream where I've been reading, what I believe to be, sacred text. 

I hear the words come out of my mouth but I don't know or understand what I'm reading. Then it occurs to me that I'm reading a language I've never seen before. At the same time, it seems that I'm not seeing anything on the page at all, like the words been obscured or hidden behind a veil. Yet, the words roll off my tongue so easily and it dawns on me, to my surprise, that I can read 'this' or these words. I ask myself, "How?"

I recall times in the past when it felt like there were words scrambled in my mouth. Then I hear a voice as though it's trying to find a clear pathway to my ears. I find myself fighting, with all of my might, to descramble the words...Eventually, I blurt out the words. 

When I was suffering from anxiety, I fought to hear, "Mary's Well." And, "The Well will be replenished." I must have said the latter three times. The closer I got to hearing the words more clearly, the louder I uttered the statement. Kind of like when you yell out, "Bingo!" In any case, these messages changed my life. 

Then I recalled an oracle reading I'd received back in 2014...

The angel I see with you currently is Archangel Uriel.

Message: I am being shown that you have been receiving messages from the angels, including Uriel and sometimes this can come through as words or sentences in your head, and often you think that these are just your own thoughts/your own mind formulating these words/sentences, but Uriel wants to tell you that these are in fact messages from the angels, they have been trying to communicate with you clairaudiently. They want you to learn to trust and recognise this form of communication when it happens.

I am also hearing "be strong in the face of adversity" and "stand up for what you believe" and Uriel gives me the feeling that it's important that you stand up for what you believe to be true, your truth, even when you are surrounded by a group of people who disagree with what you are saying/feeling. Uriel encourages you to stand strong in these kinds of situations, and that he will be standing with you.

It's happening again...and these dreams are closer together. So, I've been thinking about Angel Uriel and what he represents. He carries a scroll or sacred book...a sword...and his name means, "Light Of God." 

I've needed clarity in my life, especially the last few months. It's felt desperate and frustrating. And extremely, sad and hopeless. 

My husband's been studying Magick again. I think our discussions around archangels, maybe, has spawned a new kind of awareness and desire around the kind of life I want for myself. I'm not sure what I believe anymore...but, thinking of Uriel and talking to him, is helping me see that life can and is...magical.

I think he hears me. I mean, I feel that he hears me. And, I haven't felt heard in...I don't know...a long, long time. 

Something's happening. I think he's showing me the way. He's showing me a path forward. 

I hope I don't fuck it up.


Wednesday, May 15, 2024

"Do What That Wilt Shall Be The Whole Of The Law"

When you see there's a possibility, you grab hold of it. You try to elongate or expand this potential, to bring it out so that it fills more than a singular point, but a larger perimeter, so that the walls come down and this point actually fills all that you see.

Then the moment someone tries to tear it down, you see that they can't because how can you tear down something that permeates everything and has no bounds? I am the only one who limits myself. So, I have to make this awareness count. It's got to mean something. I've got to bring this thought down and breathe life into it because this thought comes from all that is good and true. It holds promise. It holds that spark of life that is integral to my overall well-being as I navigate this thing called life. And,  I'm telling you, I'm not good at this thing called life. In fact, I'm really bad at it. I don't know how to move with that weighty feeling at my feet. 

I understand the need to anchor myself but it's got to stem from the right kind of thinking. Otherwise, these thoughts are just shackles keeping me in my place, rooted in fear. If I could take an axe to it, I would. I'd shred that feeling and that useless thought into smithereens and then burn them. Each useless thought is a granule belonging to the past, and that for some reason, still finds a way to operate in my present, preventing me from creating the person I want to become. It speaks nonsense and in someone else's voice, always in someone else's voice, which is how I know it doesn't come from me or belong to me and in no way, is a reflection of what I'm capable of. 

I need to make a vow not to let any being on this planet influence my sphere. It means that when certain words are directed at me, they are to slide off and not stick to my person, to this sacred space, to this atmosphere I have chosen to be mine and mine, alone. This place belongs to me and my muse, to my connection with that inner world which in turn is deeply connected to the quiet, magical world of all that is. I will this. I will it. I want this. I want it. I am this. I am it. I am.

I cannot in good conscience work for someone else ever again once this ship has sailed. I cannot. I won't. Let that be okay for others but it can no longer be my path. This world was set up for money makers, business men and charlatans. I am none of those things. I refuse to keep putting money in someone else's pockets while I slave away and they go off on vacation with their families. I don't belong in that space which is illusory and transient. If I could compartmentalize and tell myself this is what people do, this is just what life is all about, to suck it up, I could continue. But, I can't. It's all soul-sucking. And that would be true - soul-sucking and soul-crushing.  It's not how I want to work on myself anymore. It's time to pick up this sword and cut away these roots that are not serving me. They served me for a time. But, not anymore. I have outgrown this body.

I say this all as a chant, a chant back to myself, back to the higher that knows better than I. So that this I and this higher body become the same thing, become one, unaffected by the rattlers of this mortal world. Real change, the kind of change that lasts and transforms, comes from within. You'll never find it out there, unless 'out there' is 'in here'.

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law."

Eight of Cups

I see that you're gone. I pictured you taking a detour and off the road you went. I get it. I still wonder whether I alone operated in the quiet realm...you know, that place where things are left unsaid and you're not sure whether you were the only one living there in the time you knew the other. 

I swear, I could hear you in that space. It felt more real than the usual place we reside where people talk and talk and say nothing. Maybe your eyes gave you away. Though at times, I saw nothing at all in them. I know how man can flirt, how he can tarzan his way into your life and still leave so much to be desired. 

There was momentum for a little while. And I know how people can talk...and make promises they never intended to keep, just to be nice. I'm like that, too. Though, not with you. Not with you. 

Remember the unsolicited advice you gave? How easy it was for you to 'just' say it? Knowing full well, it wasn't your place to? I mean, what gives you the right? We're absolutely nothing to one another and yet, man feels this need to insert himself into anything and everything. 

You disappointed me in such a big way. I can't really explain it. It feels as if so much life was lived in that silence and yet, I can't prove it was real. And, you're off the hook. I'm the one living in dream...in illusion? Am I delusional? I can't be delusional. 

I'm the high priestess who sees and knows and remains silent. I'm the one who holds you to a higher standard, who keeps you in check, who maintains boundaries.


Saturday, May 11, 2024

Matter

It's time to get moving. There's no time to waste. I wish someone had told me that when I was young. 

I did know that, though. I just felt helpless to do anything about this seeming paralysis...of the mind and therefore, an inability to move my body by putting one foot in front of the other...a moment at a time. 

Imagine what I could have been...today. 

I don't look for platitudes now. They can't provide any sort of comfort. There's no fooling me. Trust me, sometimes, I look to be fooled. Have you tried that? It's an impossible feat. How can you lie to yourself when you already know the truth?

Among the trees, I lay here. You should hear the bustling of the leaves when the wind picks up. I swear it sounds like they're conspiring to bring us all down. But then I remove my heavy minded cap and realize, they're just talking. When will I listen?

I was a fool again, hanging on to someone's every word. I put too much gravitas around his mouth. He was only ever talking and talking, saying nothing. Just empty words. I know their kind and recognize the sounds they make.

What do I do with all of this...feeling? I hear, "Keep writing. And, paint already!" I love and detest that place no one can touch. Maybe I'm not relating in the right way to this inner quiet place. It's a safe place filled with all the real stuff. Why wouldn't I find solace in that?

If I relate in the right way, there's nothing to fear. If I relate in my usual way, I'm just sad. I hate the lack of permamence about anything and everything. But moreso than this, how we never seem to transmute these experiences into...matter.

If my cup is filled with all that is transient now, what will be left of me at my moment of death? What will have materialized by then? Will there be anything of me? Guidalberto Bormolini explained it so well. I felt he was speaking with me directly. I know what he speaks of. It's a language spoken in a particular note that finds my heart's cord so easily, effortlessly. I hear it as truth.

Where he finds beauty and peace, I currently anticipate in fear. There's something in my being I need to overcome or accept or perhaps, transform. It's lonely here...on this planet among the living and the dead. I see things about people and this place and it just saddens me. 

I'm sad for my mother and father. I'm sad for my brothers. For aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews. The horror of the situation lies in an impossibility to connect with people on this level. We won't have these conversations...ever, except in the most earthly and superficial way. 

I want to catch that glimpse in the eye...in the eye of the other, that tells me we understand eachother. I don't see it. Which means, there's nothing to build on, to cultivate, to bring to life. It only ever be a seed...and this reality, this horror, sits heavy on my heart. 


Wednesday, May 1, 2024

The Reading

Wishful thinking would be that you have a sudden realization to change directions quickly on the road and get back to me.

This is so silly, I know. And I'm older...so, for that reason, this stings. It stings not seeing you. There's nothing I can do about it. Nothing. I can't pick up the phone. I can't send you a note. Well, I can. But, I don't. Because it would be wrong. 

I should get off this road. Let that bus pick me up and take me back to the only road I've ever known. I can still make magic there. I don't need you. 

We've carved out our own paths. At a certain point, these paths crossed. That's all it has to be. No more and no less. I just hate and love the way you quit. That would be the truth - you changed your mind and quit this scene. Who could blame you? 

You quit for your love. Which means, I was just something that intrigued you while you looked out the window. You'll never penetrate that glass. We both know that. I know you tried in your own way. But, not hard enough. Not hard enough for...me.

I hate how another chapter closes. I only hope I have time to look back and see it was all for the best.