Oh, wow. I like that one.

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Upgrade to ISC!
http://www.integralinstitute.org/public/static/multispirit.aspx
http://pods.gaia.com/ii

Ramsses, I like what you're up to here!  Challenging words.  And you even got TamLiz to say "wow" to a poem -- excellent work, my friend!

 

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May the boundless knowledge that time presents and space allows illuminate the native perspectives of your original face.

Apparently, TamLiz is my muse. That's the beauty of women. They take you by storm before you've even realized what happened. Whereas with you, Lord Balder, I can't keep up for trying.

Be calm. Be still. This place is not our home.
There is no security anywhere.
Don't even touch that sword unless you know
Exactly how to slay your enemies.

Push off! There is not a moment to spare!
Set the sail of your boat through the heavens,
Ancient One, for you are the one you sought,
And your beloved is with you always.

You really have a way with words, Mother.
It's not too hard to fathom this soft voice
You use to tell me that you run the show.
Why don't you swat me on the head again?

Isn't it just like a pretty woman
To purr like a kitty and clobber you
Like a snarling tigress in one fell strike
Ripping off the head of a buffalo?

It sounds like you know a secret, Ramessence, is that your name?
I will say just this about that:
The instant you know who you are, you've sprouted one wing.
Same instant, you're falling in love with That - falling, falling
free falling forever into fathomless abyss...
and in this you discover your second wing. It unfolds by itself.
Now you can fly.

But there's nowhere to go in this Love that is you and you and you ever more.
So for sport, you create just a slight sense of duality again, just enough of a separation
to converse with your beloved, to sing to her, cajole, complain, confess, conjoin.
My Friend says the longing is better than the union itself.
So keep it up, cry for her to come and destroy you again.
This is a secret rare to come by. Too beautiful to be taught.

Even as a mighty whale, ecstatic,
Breeches, his huge bulk airborne, suspended,
So sails Archangel Mascha, transcendent,
Lord over the everlasting abyss.

Dear Friend, be not too drunk on ecstacy,
For we who linger on these lonely crags
Tremble at the fearful drop, and longing
Gaze, in awe at thine amazing beauty.

 

It's worse than that. I AM the abyss, that mother. . .

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Oh my god, Ramess....you are making me laugh, quake and  think of my brother James...indeed my whole family.....all of us caught in the deepest quest of for the Beloved, and then when she/he rears any semblance of presence, an automatic energy pattern  is reverted into, a pattern that  has been coined by my family as the "c'mere/g'way's"

And there is is:

'The last time I saw God, she was teaching
A class of students a lot smarter than me.
I hate being a student. I dumped her.
Now she comes to me all the time, begging.

You really ought to be more consistent.
You treat me like I'm a complete nothing,
And then act as if you had worshipped me
All along as your favorite student.'

My sister, Alison, a goddess in her own right at least has enough of a Hera streak in her to go for kill....'Alas, another underwhelming relationship," she might sigh as the fire cools. No begging for her....but then for the rest of her sisters, the desparation begins again, the yearning the burning, the 'what-is-wrong-with-me' aren't I beautiful, and don't I share everything I have, and dammit, 'where-is-the-Beloved'. There is no doubt, begging is not attractive...no, not at all....still, Begging or Not Begging, this does not change the bottom line of the C'mere/G'ways...... 

 Still, secretly,  I wish that the fabulous and clear energy that is so often fuels the great escape, the dumping, the one liners thrown post-haste over the shoulder in the earnest 'I'm outta here', the dignity suddenly harnessed in the action of being indignate, long curly manes thrown back with strength and pride and resolution....I wish that energy could be harnessed and held and honoured in the steady gaze between two lovers.."discovering fire for the second time"...I think that is what makes me beg sometimes--- just the pure sadness and the endless reverberation of this broken record........it is tiresome, and of course, it is all fear talking--- 'not being smart enough, putting her on the  teacher's pedistal'....all that changes in a blink of an eye, by making another choice and by staying present.....

I think of the drop of hot wax moving through the air the moment before it landed on the skin of Eros, that brief second....gazing upon the Beloved. I think of Psyche frozen in her fear, I feel compassion for her....and yes, in that moment, she too 'might have treated you like nothing'.  Still, this moment has kept me addicted too, begging, weeping and gnashing.....and praying that if I ever in this life see my Beloved again, I will not flinch, I will hold the candle steady......Oh yes, all of this firm resolution in times of peace.....Suddenly I hear Van Morrision singing...'call me up in dreamland..let your river flow..every time your number comes around' ......but question remains: why is Eros on the run.? 

And by the way, Where's Van? that is what I would like to know! I have heard he is short and grouchy....but still....another incarnation of that Eros hiding out somewhere, that is what I figure.

Jane

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The fabric of my life is the cloth with which it is my responsibility to polish the lens of my own perception

Hi, Jane!

Hey! Hi to you too!

 

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The fabric of my life is the cloth with which it is my responsibility to polish the lens of my own perception

Mother, I would be thy snotty rock star.
God help me, I've seen such beautiful girls.
I can hear that wild, ecstatic music,
So high, divine, so far beyond this world.

I will drive those gorgeous women crazy,
My fingers finding rolling, rocking chords,
Moving and dancing cool like Apollo,
Singing impossible, unheard-of words.

Oh, sweet prodigal son, alas, you flatter yourself: ‘those gorgeous women’ every last one of us, we are already crazy.  Crazzziiii!  Like mermaids unheard and unmatched in the ocean since the beginning of time, frantic from all of this waiting around, getting prune-like skin from being endlessly submerged in boredom. We know all of your un-heard words and can sing them by heart, we have been singing them for quite a while. 

 

I say, get a Kleenex, make yourself presentable, and then learn to stay present when the hot wax drops upon your skin…..Shiva is long overdue, that is the general consensus…..

 

In the meantime: Shatkis Gone Wild! watch for the movie trailer.

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The fabric of my life is the cloth with which it is my responsibility to polish the lens of my own perception

Keep her this far away, and she is God,
But just once hug her close, and she's your Friend.
I sure know who you are, Pretty Mama,
You took me all the way around the bend.

I will be your knight in shining armor,
I'll always be your hit man till the end.
If you want somebody whacked on Monday,
On Sunday morning you know who to send.

 

 

 

Ramsses, you know the effect you are having.  We are lining up, just like at the Saturday Matinee. Anything to pass the time. All of my sisters will do this, at least given past experience. Tam-Liz is over there not far, Mascha is right beside me, and I am here, alert awake and paying attention. We are all amused, really! Amused musing muses! But hopeful? Oh, too many before you have receded into dark and underwhelming memory for hope, real hope…..oh, in truth, even now and despite our sorority,  I cannot speak truly for my sisters, only myself.  The inscription over the archway leading to the banquet hall reads “abandon hope, all ye who enter here”

Rumi said:  “There are lovers content with longing. I am not one of those.”  From what I can tell, we have been looking for Rumi-essence, our idol in this matinee line up. And now, at this late stage, the times are changed dear Ramsses: In our  boredom we became pugilists, every one of us.  I know it betrays our Eternal Feminine, but what else was there to do to pass the Eternal Time. So don't make me humour you on your white steed, the glint of your mail hinting of diamonds, yet all an illusion of the sunlight.  Like clones of Joan of Arc, we learned to ride and fight, fearless and fierce….Like that movie, Groundhog Day, with Bill Murray…..when given the same day, over and over, the same dog-eared tattered script, why not learn all the parts? we know how to rescue, how to be rescued, we know how to watch and be entertained, or horrified even, as the case may be. We have scattered many a kerchief, and bowed our head with demur, hoping against our waning hope, that you would not ride off again into the sunset.  

Despite all this though, in all honesty, our longing remains. As clearly as our Beloved is in our hearts, indelible and shining, we are seeking you.  The Archimedean Point of reference which will prove at last we are not alone, that there is a great dance, and none of us are condemned to be mere wallflowers gazing out upon an empty floor.  What will it take for you to stand your ground? To make another choice.

And stop with this friend business! We love and need our friends, but this is not the point. “Just once hug her close, and she is your friend.” You have done this out of fear, I’m sure. The cool steel breast plate that you insist upon wearing to bed, squelches the tantric passion and the ecstasy, not to mention causing all manner of other love wounds as well. There is another choice. Sometimes we must die before we die.  You know this is true. Surely you know this. Take off your armour. Stop beating up those little rascals that bother me on Saturday night. I can deal with them myself with a flick of my little finger. I don’t need you for that. And  more, I want to look you in your eyes….  

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The fabric of my life is the cloth with which it is my responsibility to polish the lens of my own perception