tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
the return
by TigrisSky ©October 20, 2015

running through the red
empty veins become
chasms of canyon land

where the water use to flow
before it all got so heated
during that winter parade

of passionate answers
to cries never spoken
a demon

stration of how
easy it is to be
replaced

pass
her
bye

close my eyes
wonder why
anything and everything

has come
and gone

and gone
and come

again
impossible

a canyon gutted heart
lay tranquilly exposed
to the flood

of polar ice caps
melting under the sun
of this climate change

an empty sky
holds tight
the circling bird of prey

whose wings hold aloft
the dreams of someday
that comes

today
and leaves
tomorrow

flying south for the summer
flying north for the winter

stuck east or west
of forever

is a dream
only humanity
could hold on to


tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Savitri)
A friend, of similar life disposition, lays in a care facility a month after surgery, wondering what all was done wrong and if it can be fixed. Most importantly, if comfort and lack of pain can be experienced again.

Selfishly I debate my own place in the future of such experience. I find myself hoping there will be someone there to advocate for me. I find myself hoping I never need such work done. I begin to realize more and more the importance of a regime of exercise that is not impactful but fluid.

Of maintaining a weight an older set of bones can withstand.

Of spending more time with people who make things happen and less with those who complain about things happening.

Of spending more time in contemplation of expanded death with dignity rights which will encompass exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. Which, lucky for me, is not exactly this moment.

Although one can never know when exactly this moment will be.

In this moment one can hope for ... ecstasy.

That which keeps all focus lost to such worried reality. That which keeps one connected to all and All. Connected to the full experience of self, less ego.

The drums, the guitar, a brush in my hand, a smile from love, a chaos of words spilling from head to pen, and sometimes just the closeness of a friend; all and All, pushing me higher, ever closer to ... ecstasy.

The most base to the most existential points on Maslow's Hierarchy of needs are attained through ecstasy.

So many are not willing to attempt extending their reach for ecstasy. Instead just repeating, the most base of ecstacic connection, while dismissing the power to be ... whole.

Lost ... in the simplicity of the chase. Clinging to the feeling this moment creates.

Missing altogether the power of indescribable understanding of all and All which only a higher frequency connection allows.

Thus choosing instead the simplicity of the chase and the feeling this moment creates.

Living in, "If I could just recreate."

The present can be held for only so long. As the present stops coming, the past stops directing, and ...

Tick

Tick

Tock

Awaken.

To the decision.

Chase tradition?

Or step into the next chamber of God.

For what is ecstasy but the ability to halt time and fully connect.


Be.

Here.

Now.


I promise. It is deeper than now. Yet nothing more powerful.

Salvation ...



~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
There is a time where you try again, take a risk, putting one foot in front of another and step right off the edge of that cliff.

Maybe you'll fly.

Such a notion is all you need to proceed. To open the box of secrets, to eat from the sacred tree of knowledge, to let all of humanities doubts and fears escape into the world. Like Pandora, like Eve, like Ishtar and Inanna eating from the tree of knowledge and becoming the star of Venus. The star of hope. The star that leads the adventurer far from home and back again.

"When I began my journey of personal work and healing, I began to hear the word 'drama'. It addressed all the shadow, the brokenness, the emotional upheavals, the victimhood... you know what I'm talking about. It meant that this drama queen was not the 'real' me ~ but someone who was indulging in some seeking attention gimmicky behaviour.

I too picked up that word, and looked at my life as a soap opera of continuous twists and turns, highs and lows, and with great sincerity began to work to heal. Did a lot of work with my inner child. Deep gratitude to all those who supported me on my journey.

I also collected a lot of shaming messages on my way. Which I eventually learnt to give to myself. It was easy to shame me as shame has been big in my life. I began to interpret the difficult situations of my life as melodrama. Of course, sometimes, a hard shake-up does wake us up from an unconscious sleep. When I heard my behaviours being called drama and was told to get out of all that 'stuff' ... I was able to look at my life in a new way. I healed a lot of my auto-response behaviours once I understood the pattern.

Today, I can see how screwed up our body responses become through endless trauma creating experiences. Our body stores each and every memory of a fight or flight response that could not be properly executed. Our protective barriers have been breached a million times, (you know that if you are a girl travelling in public transport in India), and one simply learns to 'live with it'. So much numbing happens along the way, as our way of response gets frozen into habitual patterns.

Today, I am really sorry that I used the word 'drama' in a way that demeaned or shamed my brokenness, or any one else's brokenness. I want to deeply honour each one's life story and mine as well. I am glad I woke up to this, and apologise to anyone to whom I used this word. I am sorry."

The few quoted paragraphs above are from Sukhvindar Sircar, a woman of great respect whom I follow on Facebook. Her words came as I began writing this piece. A beneficial coincidence to the direction of my thoughts. Describing, with great analogy, the place I have been for so long now.

Yet here I am in this moment, on the precipice of transformative growth. A completion of sorts, into the beautiful bud of whatever flower I choose to become. To finally be done with time spent worrying about who I am and where I belong.

I belong nowhere.

I am variable.

This is exceedingly good knowledge. Knowledge of which I seem to periodically forget and rediscover.

A cycle completes and a Fool makes her way out into the world. Variable and heading nowhere she doesn't want to go.

Sand in her toes, awakened by the light of Venus, the star of hope, as she steps out into that ocean of night ...



~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Default)
Letting go is harder than simply opening a door and watching the breeze blow past you.

Some days, when I think I have finally let go, attachment slips in a grin and I can feel my body tremble with the anticipation of whichever emotion is choosing to hold me in that moment of confrontation with self. For if it becomes a confrontation outside of self, attachment has already won and I might as well finish my appearance as an ass to the tale this incident will become.

Or so my logic forsoothes me.

I use to be great at never showing emotion and in turn appeared as a robot to those who I did try and build relationships with. Logic always overshadowed emotion, emotion was too much my mother, and I was never going to be her.

Until it was I learned what it meant to be Her. When I finally recognized the gifts of life She granted me that are so necessary in the fucked up world I have been imparted.

Yet that is a whole other story about letting go ... in the one I tell now, people are still alive and I have no youthful excuse for my life's mistakes. Still, I keep making them.



I am getting better at embracing my emotions without letting them have control over the situation. I feel partial to mention that my previous state of being was to tell my emotions to "FUCK OFF!" Thus ensuring nothing but logical action in any situation. I do not truly know which is worse, allowing emotion or logic complete control? I certainly do know what I grew up believing was worse, hence my propensity toward the latter.

I have learned it takes a great deal of strength to embrace an emotion that flares, without letting it take control, while in the process of letting go. Especially when the letting go is believed complete and then something small awakens you that it is not. It is in that moment a trigger, like a shot of good tequilla to an alcoholic, snaps it's fingers and emotion rears at the gate.

In that moment, emotion can make you feel like a cowboy, turn you into a clown, and have you hiding in a barrel if you let it convince you to ride.

Letting go is full of all these fears, mainly in regards to change or loss.

Change has always held great space in my life. Therefore it is not fear of change that drives my emotions in this process of letting go. Though at first, I selfishly though it was.

I can finally admit to myself that it was fear of loss that truly had me clinging to this attachment so dramatically. Looking desperately for acceptance from anyone who was looked up to within the circle of my life. Anyone who could guarantee to me that my space here in the Universe we had created was a cemented throne I could always sit upon. A place I had come to believe and rely in. A place in which I had taken to storing my fear, my strength, my honor, and my dignity. A place in which I simply could not comprehend without me in it.

What would I be without it?

Nothing. I would be nothing without it is what I had convinced myself of.



Yet, as it is with all things, the throne had been crumbling since the moment it was presented to me.

Eventually I was going to have to journey on my own again.

Such are the cards the Fates have dealt me.

I can see clearly now that my throne is gone and never really was, except in times of rest, when I could offer of myself in return for the respite.

Such was the role of my crown.

As the Queen grew, the crown no longer fit.

She no longer fit.

The parties went on without her.

The address was changed.

The houselights removed.



What she had feared to lose she must let go. Sinking in the rotting compost of loss, which guarantees change, which fosters new growth, that which was now all around her. Accepting the death of an attachment of her soul. Welcoming the moment of rebirth into the nothing that comes with being everything she will never come to mean to this world; only to her heart.

To herself.

To this momentary experience called LIFE.



~TigrisSky
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
black wolf
The Wolves at My Door
by TigressSky (July 11, 2014)

So how do I move on?

How do I re-ignite that bright shining fiery confidence in who I am; how I am?

How do I walk comfortably in my own skin? A skin, that since my teens, has filled me with the despair of it's ever numbering imperfections. Imperfections of my minds eye. Imperfections placed upon my vision by society, a drunken mother, magazine covers, and teenage boys who "oink" at me as I walk down the street.

Most importantly, how can I become comfortable wearing "alone" again?

When you fall off the pedestal of others hopes and dreams of you ... you fall ever so much farther than the original starting point. Deeper, ever deeper. As the hand of despair grips tighter, pulls hard, placing you farther than Hades reach has ever been. Deeper, ever deeper. Until there is nothing left for your heart except ...

Despairing.

I am.

Clawing my way out, I can see over the edge. I grip tightly to the precarious threshold, fingers bloodied. Eyes pensively peering into the light of the bright world around me. A world that keeps trying to deposit me here - under my desk, outside the hands of the most ancient of Gods. A world that screams out at me, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop!

Stagnation.

My nails now scratched short enough to play the music of my soul. My tear stained cheeks are covered in the mud of the past. My heart beats with the love I felt, with the love I feel, with the love I have yet to discover.

So it is I prepare to step out, to step forward, to step onto the plains and ride the white buffalo into the bright orange sunset. A sunset that will lead to the final years this life has to offer.

I can't continue to grasp at straws that have weaved them-self into a basket of ideals I simply no longer fit into.

Besides, you should never put all of your eggs into one basket.

Especially when your eggs don't produce.

A gift of freedom from the Gods? Or simply a cursed broken record formed in your youth? The one that can't get past, can't get past ... can't ... get ... past.

So it is I turn back into a child. I turn back into my heart. I turn back into a wild woman, Lady Godiva, holding tight the bison mane of adventure as the wind blows through my hair, across my face, and my past becomes my present - except now I hold the reigns.

I'm thirsty ... I hunger. Yet what will fulfill my cravings?

That is what I have to discover. That is what I have to risk it all for.

My soul.

Will be empty.

If I don't.

That is where people die - crying. Inside a soulless shell of missed opportunities wrapped in a life of "what if's?" Stuck, waiting, for death, for this moment in which no one is around to stop you. A moment in which you realize that all those times you did the right thing, said the right thing, where the right thing, never mattered. All those "right things" affected no one who desired them as much as it affected you who performed them ...

In the end.

How many adventurous opportunities have I missed while maintaining some form of comfort in my life that would all slip away someday anyway?

How many problems have I placed upon my temple by giving into a hope that this time, THIS ONE DAMNED TIME, I would be seen, I would be loved, wholly, fully, completely, for who and what I am - always.

Yet the expectation of love seems to be that I will never change. That I will never grow. That I will never become more than this moment. That I will be okay as second choice - forever. That I will accept my place in the lot of them and never question the tire treads of their forgetfulness across my heart.

Believing that nothing will ever disrupt the comfort is ...

Ignorance.

Everything changes, or else it dies.

Everything.

Search and destroy.

That is how you grow.

That is how you become.

Outside of emptiness.

Inside of self.

Beautiful.

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tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Default)
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