Once my heart has opened to someone, it stays opened.
Only time and distance fades connection – which is now near impossible if someone is well-known on social media.
Trying to mute yearning gets negated as soon as images randomly repopulate one’s screen.
If they pull away, it is best to not further pursue.
This is mainly true regarding men – not children.
Children need guidance – but men must “know better.”
If you give guidance to a man, you play the role of teacher or surrogate mother.
The ideal that I could mean so much to someone I esteem: having my affections returned is an ultimate dream.
The evening tapped out before beginning – which I would think odd, for a Friday.
I wanted to just go back to my room and call it a night, but instead, I foolishly went searching for cleaning supplies to prepare the new home for our arrival.
As I walked to the entrance of the store, I had my wallet out to replace my license, after walking the dogs with it in my pocket.
I heard a man whisper, Hey miss! Hey miss!” But it didn’t permeate until I’d passed him.
He was be-scraggled and had a young child in a shopping cart with him, hidden from view of the market staff, so they wouldn’t catch him.
I must have looked like an easy mark – and it made me mad that he was using a child to justify his intent.
The statues are placed like wards, guarding.
When you look directly at them, it seems preposterous that the mind conjured elements more complex from periphery.
In passing, there’s impression of an odd strangeness – as if, in fact, they were not fashioned by human hands.
Masses of people all over the globe lost faith in God because God did not stop The Great Wars.
But, if we review scriptures, God has only intervened if it was “His” war to begin with – by “His” design.
Man’s “free will” has been left up to us to moderate, until such times.
I love that I called his bluffs…I didn’t know “I had it in me!”
How can a process so important to cosmic variances be termed so silly?!
We know each other, intimately.
It keeps pulling and won’t let go of my being – despite my flurried swats to”Just get off of me!”
It holds me hostage by my own attachments that I’m still discovering.
Seamless transition between waking and deeper channeling states.
I won’t venture farther like the others and become a tool.
I’ve worked too hard to regain the sense of self that I have.
I reject that which harms me, seeking to redesign my reality.
I’ve got to be “relieved”…this is the only option that can bring best gains, ultimately.
Who knew emotions were something to be worked on?
Luckily, I’ve come to understand they are like wild horses – full of passionate self expression.
They can be trained and tamed to some degree, like spirit-unbroken steeds.
Those who work with stallions (vs. geldings) know what I mean.
And once you gain their trust, they share secrets about the world you’d normally not see.
Is it really such a good idea?
I know we have the media technology.
And the world is primed for absorptive following.
But, all emperors think they know best.
It’s called a complex.
I don’t like being told what to think, nor how to think about it – so for the most part, I ignore them.
Spectrumed rays of an embered sun burst from her chest as her heart opened.
She kept trying to cover the area to stop the outpouring; attempted to seize the rays as they streamed, unending…
This evening, I happened upon a dance event, where the music was to my liking.
Being initially shy, and still having the dogs to walk and dinner to get for my youngest, by the time I returned, there was only a half hour left.
I got one song in at my pace, with my eyes closed, channeling the energy. But then the music slowed, and I stretched and huddled against the wall to stay warm, observing.
I’m not sure they will play my type of music at the next gathering, but I got out there and expressed myself – exuberantly!
As a species, we’ve been hit hard by the pandemic causing loneliness and too much experienced loss.
Like birds, we’re migrating to better grounds where we can avoid further isolation and population mitigation.
A flock’s survival instinct is “safety in numbers.”
I like them.
They are mine – and –
I will put them where I want to!
A dangerous concept –
When it’s been lacking.
“Why are you doing this? Come back!” the woman pleaded, desperation weighing in her tone.
He refused to turn and face her as he marched down the hall, grabbed his keys, and exited the house – his partially secured bow tie flapping.
Our conscious awareness is like a child, developing throughout our lifetime.
It needs food and warmth.
it needs validation.
It needs justice
It’s restless.
At first, it develops as Ego, slave to needs and more – subject to how well it has been taught and has learned lessons.
Then, as our age of years accumulates enough to be counted as “experience,” consciousness recallibrates.
It pauses at times, and analyzes – rather than reacting.
It responds, taking time to affect more productively that which it interacts with.
Then, if we live long enough, a change begins to happen.
What we’ve come to know as our selves brings forth something more that has been waiting.
Analysis of avenues and attachments:
Slower response – but, better payoff.
The she-dragon suddenly bamphed from a darker dimension into the heavy liquid pool of crystaline waters, wings beating in panic as she fought to emerge onto the nearby soft, grassy bank.
Disoriented senses adjusted as she took in gasping lungfuls of purified air currents, untainted by the rot of lies and sulpher.
Eyes whirled dimensional colors, shifting to focus – fighting to not reject what they were shown.
Truth penetrated mind’s resistance, soothing the madness in her mind from long-suffered abuses.
She was no longer held captive, and the spell was broken.
Her body shuddered and then collapsed onto solid ground, before she lost consciousness from exhaustion.
They say that what we focus upon helps guide our tendencies – that it’s a matter of self discipline and meditation.
What they don’t acknowledge is when your instinct and heart gang up on you, you become conscripted by your soul’s interventions!
Like a fish caught in a net – shocked and resistant, as yanked from its depths.
Like a bird shot from the sky, as it falls to the earth – refusing to die.
Why the f— was I sent to him?!!
Why does my compass orient on his direction as if he’s the sun itself, leading me onward with renewed – yet, undefined – sense of purpose?
He has chosen another. His path is set before him, which can be seen so clearly.
Everything’s in place for him to ascend to Heaven, as he leads others to its guilded doors – without conquering.
Why, Angels…?
Why did you breathe within me such Awakening – so that once more, my passion’s consuming desire can only be left unrequieted?
Spare me your paltry, time-worn explanations.
Give me a reason that leads me to a Real sense of Redemption!
Chrysa didn’t understand why she was there at the gala ball.
She was a budding creative (in her own eyes, untried) compared to the others present who’s works were either published, or they were known for their various proven talents.
It’s not that she didn’t feel she belonged, but that she hadn’t met anyone like her.
Those there seemed to have climbed their ladders linearly, whereas her path had been an organic process of just “becoming.”
She was the earth that had nourished the seed. She was the rain’s waters that replenished.
She was the “tree” she was becoming. She was a “shapeshifter,” like no other.
There’s a type of etherium which is drawn to energetic frequencies – and the blood in her veins called to it.
She wasn’t sure what this meant, only that as she continued working on her own self mastery, more began arriving.
How can one be a vessel without knowing one’s purpose?
How can one be powerful, without that power defined?
And she had this inclination, which she was now beginning to consider as a major flaw.
She was a Romantic – beginning to judge herself as an “addict,” because the quest to find her soul’s mate was still stretching so long.
“Am I my soul – or just merely its host?” she wondered with a twinge of discomfort.
“Why am I so driven to find Him? Is it just the force of evolution driving my hormones to bring forth our next generations?”
She looked around the room from the balcony above, surveying the interactions of the attendees from a safe distance.
“What do these people have in common with me?” she thought, not meaning to sound to herself so disparaging.
She should be happy at having been invited – look at the wonderful play of gaiety and revelry!
But, her heart felt hollow and the world around her paled in comparison to what she knew Love could bring.
“If you choose that one, your career is finished. Maybe you can float a few more projects, but ultimately, people will forget about you.
If you go this way we’ve chosen for you, you get the golden feed bag and the chance to stud when you want to.”
This sense of decompression, despite pressures squeezing.
I had not realized that our living circumstances and location could have been having such an impact on our mental-emotional health being negated.
I guess that’s what can happen, when you’re an optimist!
It’s a fine trick of the mind to master patterns.
Then, to notice how they interact with you, and you with them.
Then, to observe yourself from a distance.
A piece of Finish Pancake custard tumbled off my fork, fragmenting into three pieces to divert my attention as one bypassed my guard and flew to the ground next to our hound’s crate.
I thought to myself, “Perhaps this is an opportunity to share the delicacy with her…” while noting how absorbed she was in playing with and conquer-chewing the larger, edible plastic bone normally reserved for our wolf.
Then I realized this could tempt her to want more, anytime she would smell my cooking it and see me eating it.
I paused, with prudence, to further examine the idea as I cleaned it up without her noticing.
Whereupon I realized that maybe, I am in this same position.
I’m this, where my heart is directed.
People do it to gain attention.
They hype up their position, gaining followers.
They live for the moments of “hits,” “likes” – and even conflict.
I’m writing to force myself to emerge, to let myself be seen as I’m quivering.
I don’t trust people to manage themselves well.
Maybe because I’m coming out of hell.
What I’ve seen has been obscene.
I love creating titles that hint at and point in different directions, with possible multiple meanings.
If I belonged to you, you would not listen to me nor take me seriously.
Show me how your way is different from my experience.
Make me Believe.
Why was I sent to him, only to make a fool of myself by sharing so much – uncensored?
Is here where I chide myself, and swear off men?
That which I crave isn’t good for me.
(Title from “Blade Runner” movie quote.)
I am beginning to see that this is a next level concept for me.
I have always pursued it, tried to be it, searched for it – admired it.
But, in the self as one continues growing, there’s a whole world to explore.
The proven and hardened warrior in me yearns to put down her shield and allow the inner girl to come out and be a “Chatty Kathy” with my beloved.
Speaking of nature, the clouds…wondering about the relationships and dynamics between people – and Everything.
I would love to be with someone who was as inquisitive and enthusiastic as I am about the growth and future of humanity, and how we are going to “save” our planet.
Being able to move out of the role of constant facade seriousness is something I look forward to.
A habit of necessity can be stifling.
A concept that seems fleeting.
I do not like the feeling when something I value is given away to another.
Jealousy is a cruel twister. Envy can turn sinister.
Pain drives me deeper into my heart where the arrow tip just burrows fiercer.
Bursting outward into activity to leave it behind is distractive.
Holding, with my palms centering the javelin so it stops quivering, is enough.
It keeps me here, now, absorbing and analyzing.
I am not meant for such intrigues.
Although the game fascinates.
“The philosophy of one century is the common sense of the next.”
I trusted – and was painted as a monster.
When the boy grew into the man, he married a woman who was like his mother – yet, unlike her.
He didn’t realize that when we find each other, we’re drawn to each other for our own healing.
We seek those missing parts we did not receive in our childhood. We project upon each other, as man and woman, searching to complete what before was broken.
When the wife grew and expanded in ways his mother never had, he began to fear her as she had their children. For as a child, he’d felt powerless at his mother’s harsh handling of his tenderness.
Now, somebody had more access to harming him, and harming his next generation.
He feared his wife’s power, even though she never wielded it for evil.
He feared it, because he didn’t work on his own psychology. He feared it, because he’d always feared the world.
And as she grew, and his mind became more terrified, he began dismantling everything they’d built together.
Piece by piece. Stone by stone…weakened at the mortar.
Until one day, it fell – and he could call himself “his own.”
In common religious lore, Adam was created “in the image of God,” and Eve was fashioned from one of his ribs to keep him company.
In this story, Satan in form of a snake speaks to Eve, activating her imagination and tempting her to cross boundaries.
First of all, where was Adam – and how was Eve being treated by him that her consolation and friend was a snake?
Second, this origin myth puts blame on women for being designed as inquisitive – and gives a pass to any man’s violent tendencies and wrong actions because women are blamed for Adam and Eve’s being “cast out of the garden.”
Yet, methinks there are truths to our origins that are hidden, kept from us to control and manipulate us.
For what better lies can sow seeds of confusion than partial mistruths that almost make sense – but don’t – when examined by Reason?
Take it back to when Satan snake was in The Garden.
If God made all things, and Knows All, he allowed Satan to be there.
Maybe this has all been a test of Man’s ability to Govern well, and to grant Forgiveness.
Humans can be dangerous and destructive as we learn to master the complex impulse overwhelm of our growing insights and emotions.
The goal is to keep moving forward while improving our abilities and commitment to embetterment, so we outgrow any deformities.
Candid Corvid Productions 