persephone’s 2014 tale…

yep.  still wanna spend most nights listening to krisna das with headphones, and write blogs.  obsessed with the jaya jagatambe chant now.  i sing it and feel my heart open up to the river ganga, like they are the same, and they are.  durga, kali, sita, isis, demeter, mary….the divine feminine in all her aspects…the divine feminine, beautiful form, the work of art we’ve created, being infinite snow turned into snow flakes, flecks of sand, pumpkin seeds, creatures.  lighting four candles around she, one for each direction and element…the elements, primordial energies that open up the illusion of time.  once again, krishna das pulls me out of the heaviness i have been feeling.  sorrow like lead pulling me to earth.  a wave of negativity.  citrine in the bra, keeping me afloat.  chrysocolla the microphone.  no desire to create anything but little poems written in a small leather hand made journal.  feeling myself digress. sitting on the stool, hunched over the little book, a stout filling my cells, romanticizing.  wont apologize for who i am anymore.  not pristine.  i keep saying that defensively.  against who?  what am i resisting?  feeling hanuman swoop in and say, “in exile it’s hard to know what’s real,” as he hugs me tightly in the dark, lighting up ram in my eyes, two blue stars.  not much of an appetite.  wearing armor.  melts off each evening, with the chant, his voice, heart opening, each night more…as i surf this solemn wave….and see around me….crows, falling leaves, sisters…oh and that man, didn’t know his pants were down and his bare bum exposed, as he yelped into the air.  hurt my heart so much. thing that’s happening with all this heart opening, is i am getting more sensitive.  the old pattern, when this happens, is to densify with too many pomegranate seeds. been doing this a tad bit.  tag, your’e it, new of doing things.  gonna stay sensitive, sweet, hurt…and allow sensitivity to move me through this world.  i can’t resist what i need, seduced by love inside.  it’s weird how some things feel black and white.  like, when i know something, i fully know it.  i can only walk toward the center, truth is my only circumference, sauntering through the shadows, down autumn’s corridors, making my way to the unchosen throne, but this year i burn a flame, and hades…is gone.