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LEAVING HOME


31 August  2011   >  16/7   >   Tower/Chariot

 

What are you building that is rooted to the goodness of your life?

How much is too much?

What are you ready to do that must be done?

 

 

HOuses hold memories.  They hold lives and things of importance. They give shelter. “HOme is where the heart is” is a  truth that embodies a tenderness to safety and security.  If the heart is open a home flourishes and the walls pulse with warmth and goodness.  The smell of love comes from the kitchen oven served family style.  

When I leave my home tomorrow to fill another home with my life, my stuff, my heart; it will be with the hope that these walls that have housed me for 10 years will hold some special essence that I gave to it.  That I leave behind my love and care held to these rooms I have shared. The is here. I am sad.

 

Home is where heart is

heart sits in a sea of salt

I see the shore line

 

No sadness like loss

left behind to start anew

Sun will kiss again

 

my breath is in here

all walls know of my essence

wild wind coming

 

Endings, beginnings

birth always leads to a death

space is made again

 

Love didn’t leave the home

it took flight out the windows

it’s a heart shaped cloud

 

 

 

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TREASURE HUNT the HOLY GRAIL


17 may 2011 > 8 justice/adjustment (thoth deck)


What needs ‘adjustment’ in your life?
How do you hold the fairness and balance of your days?

I think it’s totally not fair that others are finding Morels and I’m not.
Of course I’d have to be diligently looking for them and I’m not, and
I’d have to know where is a good spot and I don’t. Well big ol’ DAh on me.
WHO DOES, AND WILL YOU TAKE ME THERE?

Mushroomin’ as some of us like to refer to for the hunt, started for me
when I was in 3rd grade. It was all about the treasure to be found
among the leaves and moss in the woods. Secondly, Cooking them
in butter and garlic and putting them on toast.
My love for a good treasure hunt from that point on made me
a pirate of sorts, without the sex and pillaging. The glory of searching
for the ‘Great Find’. Digging through old discarded crap for that
special sumthin’ sumthin’. Digging in the sand, digging in to life,
hunting.

‘Suroomin’, was all about how high I got on the psychedelics of
ingesting them. That treasure hunt was in the quest of what my
sensorial beingness could explore, find, experience. Oh.. the stories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
 Treasure

Still getting high on the hunt
 That Illusive treasure sunk
 in the sands of my soul.
 buried in my chest of blood and gold

My map wrinkled, folded, old
 ripped, faded, hard to hold
 barely readable
 holds the course of me
 un-defeatable

I have raped and pillaged
 the corners of me,
 sometimes the heart of me
 taking my ship back out to sea
 will I ever see, Will I ever see

That island that calls me home
 where I can lay my tired bones
 to my treasure’s worldly rest
 or will I give myself to the eternal
 quest

Hunting, seeking, the Holy Grail
 Climbing mountains, making sail
 For the vessel that hold my truth
 Holds me to finding proof

When I have always, all ways known
 Where I am is all ways home.

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