tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)
The Wonder
by TigrisSky ©October 30, 2016

The wonder of smiles
Casting black clouds of doubt
Over ignorant hearts
Beating strong just the same

Nothing can stop you
From gaining the knowledge
The truth is in playing
Not winning the game

Which always ends
In nothing
But dreamers
Closing their eyes

To chance
That in this one
Moment in time
All life will start

To make sense
Out of fears
That come
With the territory

Of gypsy heart
Of native mind
A shaman expands
All visions beyond

Horizons to reach
Pasts to dispel
Myths to create
Fires to ignite

Passions to explore
Ecstasy at levels
Beyond this base
We sit upon

And wonder
How it all began
To end

I'm On Fire

Wed, Aug. 31st, 2016 21:26
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Marilyn Monroe Goddess)


Changing faster than an eye blinks.


Coming sooner than a virgin after first thrust.


A constant no mathematician can equate.

The holy trinity or the aftermath of the big bang; the essence of All and all.

It is only when the collective consciousness reaches the pinnacle of this understanding that progress will become the record and history will no longer be a doomed pattern of repeat.

Until then ...

I have let go of being a doormat. Let go of the allowance given others to treat my kindness and understanding as an invitation to hold advantage over me. I have recognized that when there is not a common bond, there is no bond. While assumption of such bond makes realization of its falsity a much more painful lesson.

My greatness comes in viewing the world through the romantic eyes of poetry. Finding beautiful mystery everywhere, in everything, if only I simply look close, thorough, and, I suppose, somewhat detached enough at it all.

The only expectations are great expectations that become dictation of non-existent rules in which others fail to meet in every way. Excluding the always faithfully met expectation that everybody leaves, someday.


tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (Body Kiss)

Wandering for years
Outside of self

Everything to lose
Stepping back inside

Embracing tighter
The gypsy shoes

... 10 years of Beltanes and here I remain; connected.

What am I trying to say? Sometimes the poetry mutes me through the desire to find the right words; the right way to describe an experience only I can truly comprehend. Longing for someone, anyone, to desire to see, through my eyes, the beauty in those moments when only you and I connect.

Whoever you may be ...

Sometimes a stranger smiles and quietly professes, through the crackling of flames, an announcement of power thought lost. A reminder of a time, sitting chained near the water's edge, strangers dancing in the naked flame, a tiger commanding you ...


Towards an olive grove facing the sea.

A deep breath in, the heart pushing away fear through a crescendo of palpitations. Only to find itself pressed tightly against a tiger's back. Where this moment will carry me, only the softness of a tiger's claws can ensure.

In this moment of assurance, claws brushing lightly across my fragile fingertips, holding on. I don't want to wake up; from this gift of time -- to feel, to know, to experience ...


So I simply refuse sleep.

Until the Earth finds the strength to awaken Apollo's kiss. Offering a reminder of what it is like to crawl in bed and fall in love with the Moon.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
Is Everything.

The Graceful Gravity of Goodbye
~TigressSky © January 27, 2015~

And there she stood,
the grass between her toes,
her feet firmly planted upon the Earth
A hush running through the crowd.

In that moment she could feel how quickly the world spun.
She could feel the Mother wobbling on her axis.

How could she not be thrown right from this place?

It had to be more than gravity ... perhaps, grace?

She shut her eyes and asked
the Goddess,
her mother,
the Earth,
what she should do?

In the darkness,
the world grew silent,
the sound of her heart beat flooding everything,
until the thumping silence was just too maddening.

So she opened her eyes ...

There stood Her gravity
In the golden light of Apollo's gaze
She fell into His arms
a moment of grace
in which a Queen birthed her King.

"For what it's worth"
would be the cry of all he could offer;
the cry all whom followed could offer.

A community of "for what it's worth"
given to the grace of a Queen
in constant search of gravity.

So it was she learned to love,
without attachment,
but instead with grace,
knowing she was the Queen,
but she could never be theirs.

Most importantly,
They would never be hers.

Like all Queens before her,
she was a blessing of the land
with the power to make a King
of any she touched,
regardless of gender,
but she could not make them stay.

And she knew she wasn't suppose to
no matter how the loneliness tore at her heart.

A heart finally opening,
such a feat was worth all the scratches,
all the broken pieces,
all the moments of pain,
tears, all the lonely nights,
curled up with a sappy chick-flick
only the devotion of a cat for company ...


Is what it took
to always be
to always do
the right thing
for everyone else
and love as if it was always
the right way
for a Queen
to find


Is what it took
to always leave
to always rationalize
the committed repose
of a King
whose court
is an exit sign
of the broken promises
of forbidden lovers
practicing their

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)

This song, Wild One, Forever, is from Tom Petty's debut album; self-titled:Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. A lot of people may have never heard this song before as the album itself came out 7 months before I was born, in November of '76.

The moment I heard it I was whisked even further into my fandom connection with Tom Petty. I could see myself in it immediately. In so much as the way my life's relationship experiences have defined me that is.

"They call you the wild one. Said stay away from her. Said she could love no one if she tried."

Then, as the song announces with fierceness, "But then something I saw in your eyes, told me right away that you were gonna have to be mine ..."

That is the hope of the Wild One. To be seen as worthy of the effort. Worthy of love. To find someone who allows the sight to go beyond that which the Wild One has come to judge as unworthy of love.

Those things in me I had come to believe were my flaws. To be loved in spite of them, or even because of them.

Floodplain brought that ideal, that hope, to me as a reality. With the softness of the next verse, "Well it's too bad, but I want you to know that I understand..."

He opened me up to a love that is more important than any I have ever experienced before - the love of self.

I love and cherish all of the other relationships that have brought me here.

I have good memories of all of them, and I choose to let go of the bad ones. That is how I stay friends with everybody. That is how I never let anybody go.

Some people have hurt me more than others and the drifting apart doesn't bother me as much. Yet if they come back into my arena, I am nice and I try and focus on the positive experiences I have had with them. Sometimes it is hard, but it is what I do.

Lately I feel like people see me as a person who doesn't meet their expectations, which makes me feel bad about who I am. Yet I know part of it is not them making me feel bad. It is me making me feel bad because I have become uninteresting and people don’t really want to make the effort for me anymore …

Don’t get me wrong, I realize people love me and people love having me around. It has been five years however; nobody calls me, emails me, or texts me. Save a few, Mistress, Turtle, and before the weirdness, Aurora.

Granted I kinda gave up contacting others, because the lack of response was getting to be to heartbreaking. I can handle alone, I can't handle ignored.

I grew up with a mom who got beat regularly for being a Wild One. This lead to fleeing regularly and also lead to a habitual expectation that this was just how it was, so, the beaters were prone to return regularly as well.

From this I learned that you have to let go of the negative and you have to cling to the positive, especially the positive you find in other people.

How else would I have been able to live with all of those guys … repeatedly … scared that mom is gonna die.

I just focused on the fact that all those guys were nice to me. All of my mom’s friends were a ton of fucking fun, just like the community is.

Seriously, I lived a life of adventure in my youth. The type of adventure that most people in their middle-age only dream of getting to experience. I got to grow up with that, and I feel like I was probably very lucky to have the mom I did.

My mom was judged pretty harshly for the type of person she was. Simply because she was more male than female. She didn't fit society’s gender expectations and she didn't have to be transgender to try.

Hell I can’t wait for there to be no more gender expectations! Old white guys are scared that the brown people are trying to wipe out the white race, still to this day. They realize that in the future race won’t matter, therefore it can't be used to control.

It simply won’t matter, because we are evolving to become race-less. Soon it will seem archaic that we ever asked the question “what race are” you on any form. Can you even imagine what life will be like when race is invisible?

Gender is on its way to being erased as well. A lot of men in general, although admittedly mostly the same old white guys, are scared by marriage equality because, “Oh my god, they are going to make it to where people don’t see gender anymore.”

This loss of gender is going to be so good though. Because it is no longer going to be bad for a woman to want the exact same opportunities, the exact same adventures, and the exact same fun as a man.

Which is what people who dislike the lifestyle of women who live like my mom, the Wild Ones, are really complaining about.

They dislike her lifestyle because she is a woman living that way. If I had been living with my dad and that was his lifestyle no one would even care. Because that is what guys do, they get drunk and fight, they are passionate about things, especially when they are single and working blue collar jobs and taking care of a child.

My mom raised me in fun adventurous environments, with crazy fucking people, from all walks of life. Most people got boring, typical American dream bullshit to grow up in. I got to be the Wild One.

free spirit

Yet what I never had was this seemingly constant, consistent, feeling of connection and love and concern for me that I had in the past within the Pagan community I found … and I needed that.

It is okay that it is gone for me right now. Just like always, I can focus on all the good, and let go the negative. Although, GOD DAMN! it took me so long to get here this time.

I attribute this slow move as a desperate clinging to the fact that I had built every ounce of my being around being the community.

I needed to feel that type of connection. The problem is, for me, it was hard for me to express my returned love in those connections, how happy I was, in any other way except for sexually. So what I personally feel like has happened ...

DISCLAIMER: I have to proceed the next statement with a disclaimer that I DO NOT regret the sex. I don’t have any qualms with people who live the poly-lifestyle. I understand, with great empathy and experience, why people are drawn to it and I don’t knock it in anyway.

Personally though, I did not really understand, until Mistress and now Floodplain helped me to learn, you can connect so well, so deeply to someone, and it does not have to be about sex at all.

I think in the end, honestly, because sex was the only connection I really made with people, (yes I know there are other ways in which I connected, but that was one of the main ways I connected the closest. The way I could really express love.), when that connection was lost, so was the connection to me.

Yet I must admit, I have no deeper understanding then this, because, as aforementioned, the connection is lost ... I don't know what or if people feel or think about me anymore.

Not that people don’t love me, or that they don’t want me around or something. I get it. I’m not the life of the party anymore. I am not interesting anymore.

That’s what I really miss. Being interesting to others. People who will talk to me about me, about things I am interested in.

Community does not connect to me anymore.

I’m not trying to be selfish. I realize I haven’t been around much, I haven’t been doing things. I became celibate, I became “prude”, I got uber-sensitive about the teasing and built anxiety about being something wrong in our community. I also realize nobody cares about that anymore – so yeah, awesome!

Yet it has been heartbreaking for me for so long to go to festival. I know I built expectations around the type of person I was. When I finally tried to explain to people that I had these new boundaries, I started with those closest to me, and their reactions made me expect the same from others.

It made it to where I just didn't want to get fucked up around anyone anymore, nor be around when the party began, even if I was sober, because I had to be fully responsible when someone was going to come onto me in their intoxicated loving state.

I have a hard time with that role, because I love everybody, and I want to express to them love from me in the way they desire of me.

I love to be needed, wanted, and most importantly to nurture love in other people. I love the feeling of giving everyone as much of my energy as they need and seeing them burst with happiness because of it.

Yet not doing it sexually was new to me, and, due to my anxiety, I wasn't really afforded the opportunity to try to learn how to express it in a different way. My anxiety being built around the expectation that if those closest to me could not respect the boundaries, than how could others.

In short I was scared, I didn't fit anymore, and I didn't even know how to try to fit anymore.

When you compile all of this into the heart of a woman, a Wild One, who takes care of herself, well, you get a woman who slowly disappears. Because a woman who can't try to make it better, who sees that the fight to change is not an option or not working, will eventually take flight.

Yet this is the longest I have ever been connected to others; ever. I clung desperately to the idea that, if I just stuck it out, if I just kept going and made changes to things I could control; leaving the fire before the party started, staying sober, then it would all get better.

It didn't get better. Instead I learned what it was like to suffer from constant anxiety. Too have your heart pounding out of your chest, while your brain worries about everything that most likely will never happen. To build a sensitivity to everything around you as if at any moment just the right thing would shatter you into pieces like glass.

The truth is, with my past, I have never really had anybody there to help me with my problems but me. I have always solved them myself, through writing, or music, art, or time with nature. I am really good at this and I don’t really feel strongly about changing it. I love this artistic part of me.

However, my clinging desperately, rather than stepping away and spending time alone with it all; topped with my anxiety, made it impossible for me to figure anything out. The art stopped coming. All I could do instead was play chess with my life. Move myself cautiously into a square and hope to not get knocked out of it.

Until the music came that is ... but the music is a whole other story.

Most of my life I was lucky to get a few years with others; and then I gotta move. Then it is time to write letters, because there wasn't facebook, internet, texting, hell sometimes there was no land-line because we couldn't pay the bill.

So I would just move and lose contact with people. I would be alone again, usually it was summer, and usually we were in the middle of nowhere. So I would be in the woods, in nature, for the summer, by myself, all my friends living in some different city or state doing whatever it is that normal kids do in the summer.

Despite all the change and loss I would have a good time. I spent my time alone, contemplating the good memories, the lessons learned, while exploring nature. I would wonder if others thought about me. Sometimes I would fantasize reconnecting later in life and all the fun we would have then.

It is silly, because I really believed I was just forgotten. Yet with social media I found out that a lot of people did wonder about me. Even some people I had minimal contact with wondered about me. It’s been surreal to be connected still.

What I also realize is that if I met up again with all these people of my past, we would sit in a room and babble at each other with true interest in each other. We would express our passions and share interest in each other. Maybe some of us would find common things to follow-up with. Maybe connections would grow and new close friendships would be made.

This use to be what community was like for me.

I realize this is what community remains or has become for so many others.

For years I have expressed a desire to have a ritual, something to study, something to do, that connects us all like this again. Something that we can all focus on and learn together that allows us all to participate with each other and have something to talk about together. Something I can be included in.

What I finally realize is this: I am the only one not connected like this anymore.

The community still shares common interests, interests I am disconnect from.

I can’t express what I am passionate about and find other people interested in the community anymore.

Hell they don’t even have to really be interested in it.

It’s like when I was dating the second Corey, and he was such a dick. I learned everything about kayaking. I don’t ever even want to fucking go kayaking, yet I know all about it. I know more about the types of boats, rapids, boaters, water levels, then I ever wanted to know about. All because I wanted to be able to talk to him about what he is passionate in.

Yet with my passions he would say he, “Didn't want to know about it,” and he, “Wasn't going to learn that shit.”

I don’t expect people to learn everything about the things I am interested in; but it would be nice if people talked to me about it. To just try taking a moment and talk to me about things I am doing too.

Because right now I realize I could make an effort to be with the community, maybe twice a month, give all the love I have and then leave, and everyone would be happy to have seen me and fine with that level of connection.

This is what I have now.

I have come to accept that this how I fit.

It sucks not being included. I know that some of that is my fault because I am not sexual anymore, I am not really focused on the party anymore, and my interest are not interesting, etc., etc. As well I am sure there are other things about me that bother people that they just won’t converse with me about.

Yet those things I can participate in make me feel awesome. Even if it leaves me only connecting to the community ever so often.

Seriously, Yule was SSSOOOOOOOOO awesome. I felt so connected. I was needed. I was able to bring comfort and love without sex. The kids welcomed me like I was the best thing since sliced cheese. People loved the meditation. I was included in conversations and some people even asked and talked briefly about things I am interested in.

I was included, I could participate … yet most importantly people made the effort to include me and participate with me.

So it is I start anew.

I no longer search for how I fit. I know the small way in which I do and it is enough; for now.

I hold out hope, that in the future the connection to community that I use to have, that so many others still have, that so many others have gained, I can find and have again. I accept, however, that this may never be ... and I hope that the small connection I do still have is enough to sustain me in community if it never does happen.

So the Wild One, becomes a Lady, a Lady Godiva on a Buffalo, playing the drums, singing her heart out, honoring her Mother.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)

It Doesn't Matter Where, Just Drive by Snow Patrol

This is a song that, once recorded, Gary Lightbody never played again. It is about the loss of his child in utero.

I found this song shortly after losing the baby. I didn't really connect to it as much then, as the loss was new, and it all felt too surreal to imagine how it fit. As well, I was certain I could just try again and get it right next time.

With time I would learn that to not be the case.

Once I lost Thomas though, well this song just broke my heart and became a constant for me. Because all the thoughts in this song they just ... for me they just apply to him ... he was real -- more real than the loss of the baby I was barely carrying in my Fallopian tube, more real than the baby I can never have myself. I have experienced the reality of being his Mom, of being a mom - and yet at the same time that reality was always an illusion.

For me, the only part of this song that doesn't fit is that, "the families all gather round," line. No one gathered round me when I lost the baby. No one gathered round me when I lost Thomas. In fact, my family made me feel like shit about it, as if I had chosen my religion over my husband and son. There was no comfort for me, only blame.

Still, some days I wonder if they were right.

As for my friends, well, the only two I had were busy with their own lives and my recent loss of pretty much everything, moving into my first place and being absolutely alone there, well, it was not a priority and could not be for whatever reasons. I don't place blame, it just is how it was at the time.


The distraction of Queendom and a community of strangers needing me, strangers that made me feel loved being just who I am, no questions, got me through a lot of things during that time.

Now however, even that is changing for me.

I question our human desire to be seen. To be known. To be accepted and understood, to be a part of something larger than ourselves, as I stand on a dividing precipice and wonder ...

Is there really anything larger than self?

I'm hurting a lot right now and, as per my norm, I feel as if I am not allowed to be. As if everyone else is more important than me.

To end this hurt, I must let go the anxiety I hold in regards to the possibility of yet even more of my connections being severed because of who and how I am as a person. In short, I must allow myself to be me and that means I must love me, not constantly worry about the me I am being and if the me I am is accepted or rejected anymore.

self sufficient

I must be okay with the fact that I just don't fit anymore. So I am.

"I don't fit anymore!" Woohoo!

While at the same time I know I still "gotta little space to fill." I am still loved, people still enjoy having me around, and that is the part I am truly grateful for. I will most likely always hope that someday, things will change, and I can have the closeness, the support, the connection, and the importance in community again. Yet for now, rather than focus on the loss, I am focusing on what I still have because what I still have is beautiful.

I still have me. I am still loved. Yes, "I still gotta little space to fill."

So it is I start focusing on that space. I become okay in alone again. It isn't a horrible place. It is simply the darkness of the Mother, of my self, of the upcoming season in which I will be born anew. Some of the steps I have taken, in just loving myself, with acceptance and assurance, are simply the signs of false labor ... my birth is coming.

So it is I return to the Gypsy, that I was, that I am, that will always remain my naked flame.

tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
This song has been playing every time I work on this piece; which I think is finally finished ...

secret garden
... from the song Secret Garden by Bruce Springsteen

The Secret
~by TigressSky © September 16, 2014~

What I have in abundance is beautiful words
They flow in and out of me
Like the passionate drive of a lover
Who has tasted of the moon

And from the dark-side of the moon
They are always calling, howling, panting
Uncivilized creatures

They want inside the garden of my heart
They want deep inside all of the secret parts
That keep my clock spinning
That sing out on the hour like a siren

By love

Bye love.

They come with the warning from God upon their hearts
They know without a doubt what the song I sing means
They still clamber towards the shore heeding nothing of God's foreboding
They are there to take advantage of the misery
Within their own lies of secret garden discovery

Yet none have the key

Some have come so close
Their breath laying upon it
A whisper of hot air upon my cheek
Their practiced prose of sweet nothings
A bombardment of hope upon absolute hopelessness
Shattering the reach, closing the door

Every now and again the words escape though
From the vents of lush dreams
Following the lightening of my hopes, my desires
With a thunderous roar of Aphrodite's devotion
To just be loved for who she is
Not how she appears in the drawings of man's desire

Shut up inside a clam shell
That is no way for a woman to live
Waiting to be opened and discovered like a pearl

A pearl is simply a gift given to those born in June
A woman is a gift given to all those who are born
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
I know it is not for me, nor about me, but every time Ms. Nicks comes out with something new it always hits home for me. It always feels like she has read my mind and knows exactly where I am at, for that moment of my life.

This song, is no exception to that rule ...

"Lady, you don't need to see."

That is the part I need to focus on. Ha! Punny!

I close my eyes while drumming now. I try and feel what it is my intuition is whispering to me. Through this I understand better how to hear her voice.

That is what intuition does, it whispers, soft and gentle. It cares about you. Never getting in your way, yet always trying to hold your hand.

Those moments when you scream out, "I knew it!"

Intuition never says, "I told you so."

I know it right now, I am listening to her voice in my ear, I am going to make it happen.


Finally remembering that in all of this I have always been alone. Always courageous. Always willing to try. Always standing upon the throes readying myself to jump - falling like Alice into the next mystery my life shall be gifted.


"This is what is called the monomyth: an archetypal story that springs from the collective unconscious. Its motifs can appear not only in myth and literature, but, if you are sensitive to it, in the working out of the plot of your own life. The basic story of the hero journey involves giving up where you are, going into the realm of adventure, coming to some kind of symbolically rendered realization, and then returning to the field of normal life." ~Joseph Campbell

A heroine in pursuit of life.

This poem, written about me so many years ago - it still amazes as too how much it is me; especially as it comes from someone who should have little clue about me.

I lost myself for awhile. Yet now I turn back to it, to the words, to the Tigress Fallen ...

Tigress Fallen
by Taylor - March 28, 2007

The tigress fallen holds her eyes with the strength of feeling that only she possesses many unique wounds along her life line of shadows and the fear-defying.

The Tigress fallen dreams that she needs little support from any sector of reality, this is false. She needs every support from the hidden forces of the Universe and secret lines of communication with them, and no support at all from the blood lines of man. Until she is done with Her work among them, in this age, they will ever deceive her in her most sacred task - much unknown, even to themselves.

The Tigress fallen is a secret Goddess, or ancient angel being/force from a forgotten story of the earth, and she was old the day that humanity was born from the earth dreams, and on that day she knew that she would die a thousand deaths for them, in the hope for the stars within. She knew how many steps of descent there were on the day she saw them born, in her destiny interwoven with their own, she knew how much they would rape of her, and she knew each and every feeling of that descent. She knew no other choice but to begin her fall on that day, when so many laughed at the destiny of man, she stayed by them to preserve the most intimate details of the unique dreams Gaia breathed within them ... so that they may always be remembered within them.

The Tigress Sky knows endless lovers ... she falls in love with them with just a glance, and then they get out at the next bus stop. And she can only smile while no one watches.

The Tigress Sky both adores and disgusts how much she must be alone ... over and over again, each night is her oblivion and her heaven, each night she can see nothing else but a kingless crown. Each night she tells her self that she only needs herself, while she cries on the inside ... and out. This makes the Tigress Sky more beautiful then any other Goddess of creation ... which only the Panthers know, because they have the night's eyes to see the Tigress cry in the deepest part of the darkness.

The Tigress Sky needs to know beyond words that all her efforts and dreams and nine-fold joy are always around her; warming her sacred feminine breasts and heart. She is naked to those that care about her including each cardinal star in the physical night sky. She covers her skin to clothe her nakedness to everything else as she is adorned with the greatest illusion of being but just a woman.

But underneath -

Underneath, she knows every step of the way ...

"This is only another death ..."

Which means this is only another chance to make it. To hear her whisper and trust her words. To trust and know myself.

Yet most importantly to love myself ... as I have so many others.

To see the Valley of Fog and this time step deep into its mist.


To wade carefully through the ideals that have held me to this spot, carry with me what I can, let go that which strains against.

Yes I must take only that which I can carry ... which isn't much as I must be open to all that will come, all that has gone, all that may hurt, all that may love. All that wills itself to be ...

I think, therefore I am.

frank turner

It’s about snapshots, not oil paintings. Find a moment, be proud you were fucking there, then go find new moments.” ~ Frank Turner

I am proud thus far - although in this depression, I find myself doubting the value I provide/ed to anyone, anything, any moment in which my heart has built upon and filled with strong memories.

With the words of, "I love you, but you are no longer allowed a place in my heart because loving you hurts to much," coming from so many I was close to ... it is hard to pick your chin up and move on.

Who else will be hurt by loving me?

Who else will I hurt by letting in?

No one.

For now, I must lace up my combat boots, put my warriors mask back on and make my first steps outside of the comfort and into the fog ... a beautiful child.


(P.S. Floodplain and I are great, happy, in love. This is not a intimate break up post.)
tigrissky: Tiger in Green Sea (starbuck)
tree of life

The first thing I thought when I saw this image was how much Foxx would love it! Then I thought about how much fun it would be to create a ritual around it. Ideas flowing ...

Then I took pause. Ritual? Yes, I love it. Want it. Desire to continue being an integral part in the design and purpose of them. Want to create whole weekends engulfed in the conceptionalization of the idea. Workshops. Activities. Food. Friends.

I'm not there anymore though. Ugh! I can't put into words how much losing that piece of me is hurting. I spent a long time wishing I knew what I could have done, could do, different. I have analyzed the shit out of it until it has made me sick. No more. Just breath and let it go ...

Yet can you see it to? The ritual in this image. The story of the world, creation, and the carrying of our own stories?

I can.

So maybe it is I conceptualize in writing from now on. Piecing together a portfolio of my ritual works and endeavors.

I love writing. I love ritual. So ... combine them?

My focus has moved to Ganesha also called Ganapati which I prefer currently due to the chant to him that I am focusing on.

When I think about it, every year around this time a new God comes to me. An archetype of humanity I have yet to understand - most of the time in myself.

Living in what can only be labeled as a modern day Rome lends easy to this type of yearly experience though. The melting pot is full of so much myth here it is impossible to not have it touch you in some way. It seems as if I have moved from study of the western myths and am on my way into eastern.

Yes, I'm still an atheist. An atheist who understands the importance of myth.


One thing that has come to me clearly is this message:

"Most people do not listen with the intent to understand. They instead listen with the intent to reply."

This is my new goal - listen to understand. Stop replying.

I do hope to find some who want to understand when I speak as well. I love to talk! Analyze. Solve problems. Create.

With how things have changed as of recent in my personal relationships, the hurt and longing I am left with especially, I am finding myself shutting back up. What else can I expect after spending the past few years in the throes of Death, the Devil, and Aphrodite?

It is simply that time.

What I know of all three of these Gods is that this is not an end. It is a reforming. Like a caterpillar in a chrysalis. Like a thorny bush sprouting a bud. Something will be awakening soon. My 'self' is shedding, like a snake, I grow as this old layer is removed.

Sidebar under the cut ... )

So it is, I lay coiled, shedding, holding my world together, wisdom and a thirst for knowledge as my guide, until the point I can release the energy and finally find the reward in this landslide my life has become.