Candid Corvid Productions

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.

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.

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.

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.

I haven’t yet, but am considering joining Costco because they occasionally have something I need that I can’t find elsewhere.

Thrift stores often yield shoes, pants, and dress shirts that have been gathered by others from afar, but are then discarded as no longer desired.

I flit between health stores, seeking my favorite products; the same with grocery stores for animal food or best produce.

There is no one place that provides everything as I wing like a bird gathering its forage..

I kept trying to fit in, nestling comfortably for times into the grooves where others went – only to find the tracks grown shallow as they would slip me off onto the nearby grasses.

How many times have I longed to be on campus, soaking up education’s religion to then find my semester cut short by external interferences?

Despite attempts to be like others, I have had to accept that my path is very different. When I make decisions as if it isn’t, nature takes my hand and guides me right back into the forest.

Studying online yields flexibility, and working independently enables versatility.

If I stick to being unique, I avoid conflict.

I just somehow got a wiff of one – likely an impression made up of the smoke and incense combatting its heaviness, combined with heater filaments.

I do not like eating it, looking at it, nor working in any way with it.

It is said that eating liver provides many health benefits.

I used to watch my mother cook organ meats when I was a child and thought she was nuts: they smelled, looked, and tasted awful!

When I was trying a special diet, I read that juicing raw liver was supposed to be like an elixer.

Have you ever tried shoving liver down a juice hopper? The blood went everywhere – like a horrendous massacre!

No…some things just are not right to mess with.