Lust For Love

You can't wait to get out of here. You can't stop telling me how much you hate coming back to this place. Doesn't it occur to you that might hurt me? Bruise me? I guess you really love it when I stroke your ego. That's all it ever was. Just you passing time getting your ego stroked. 

I didn't mean to inflate it. I was just being nice. And you were just being a guy doing what guys do best. You just want to know whether you've still got it. Yes, you've still got it. And, so do I.

Do you know the wisdom I can cultivate from the scraps you give? You have no idea. Emily was right. They were all right. You're just a little man who isn't interested in paying the price. Or, living an examined life. And since I'm worth more than all the gold in this world, I can see why or how you can't pay.

Plus, I was never for sale and you were only passing through. It's too bad you haven't managed to put your foot where your mouth is. That was my first and the only clue I needed that it's all been about you. 

How was it so easy for others I've known to jump ship when things got rough? All in the name of love? Unless it was never love to begin with...That you created children together only to leave the other for a shinier toy? For better or for worse? You couldn't have possibly understood the significance of that line. Because it's only ever about you and your happiness. Why would I insert myself in such a shallow arrangement?!

I was an idiot for being kind in my usual sweet way. It's okay, baby. Stay with your woman and your offspring. We both know you're just a guy among guys in a dirty world. And I'll still be worth more than all the gold in this world.

The Terror Of The Situation

I need something more than this. I need a way out. I woke up realizing I've been working for a cult with people who are just in it for the money. I can't stand the hypocrisy. The inflated egos. I know what brainwash looks like. There's a fine line between a Robbins seminar and pseudo-science approaches to health and well-being disguised as evidence-based. Just thinking about the way people throw their arms up in the air in so called bliss whether in church, an office or a spiritual retreat...is all bull-shit. It's just some wannabe leader trying to make a living by attracting people who want to be lead. But why these fuckers have to go so big, is beyond me. They must be greedy little bastards with god complexes. There's no other explanation. All of it cloaked in altruism. And when you take a closer look, you see how no one's home. You sense the blackness of their existence. How they're just running on auto-pilot...and that my dear friends, is the root of all evils. Going through the motions leading to death. The problem is that you're already dead! You're the walking dead believing you think for yourself, believing the choices you make are your own. But, they're not. Your lucky break - if you get one - occurs when you actually wake up to this horror. Let's hope it isn't too late...

The Quiet Lady

I realize how much I love being alone, despite being a city girl. Sure, there are times I prefer the company of a friend. But, most days, I'm perfectly fine to go to a cafe and dream up ways to live more quietly.

People think that silence is the absence of noise or sound. That's true to a point. I enjoy hearing the chirp and song of birds while a plane passes through. Or, the buzzing of cars and motorcycles. All of these things make up the sound that is my life. And in it all, I find quiet places and pockets, like doors, that open themselves up and invite me in. 

Maybe it was the comfort of music that helped me retain information during school exams. I couldn't study without music or a persistent and consistent cacophany of sound around me. 

Of course, I often imagine waking up by the water. But, it's in the city. Not, up north somewhere far away from all that's familiar to me here. 

I was mugged in my city...not because living in the city is a bad place to live. Where there are more people, there is a greater chance of crime, statistically and logically, speaking. But the thought of getting mugged in the suburbs? Where silence is a shadow in the dark? No thanks.

People haven't learned how to cultivate silence. They think they need to go somewhere to get it, to find it. It's always right here. Where ever you go, there you are. Forget FOMO. "We're all bozos on this bus."

I miss those motorcycle rides on the back of Rakesh's bike. And then listening to, "I'm A Dinosaur," by King Crimson. I want to reach that peak of fearlessness again without the shock of misfortune as an entryway...

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...

"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 isn'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.

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.