The Devil's Meadow

They say that mad women smile at the moon.

It's in our bones.

There was once a place where..

'the Devil made his earthly home..where here he kept a small, gated meadow...'

Scented pages, of sacredness.

Hairs unseen, are hairs unclean.

Misshapen mirrors, unfolding knots.

Spiritual psyches came together

in a dual misunderstanding.

Never doubt your creativity. 

Never doubt your heart.

She sung to the moon.

And she sung to the stars.

Open up your heart.

Open your heart.

Stop fighting this meeting of dark and light.

They are urging to meet.

And it is vital they do so for their own survival;

for your survival.

*

A meadow within a meadow.

Uprising is the Devil's brow.

I am light, I am lovely..

but I am also earth, and I am also dirty.

Spiders graze against my arm,

such charm, such grace, in its beautiful little face.

I am unearthed from this hidden place.

Feed me roses, feed my blood, 

draw my shape, taste my mud.

Muddy cups, quivering.

Lingering,

is the scent of peppermint and orange.

Where is my mother? Where is my shape?

She kept me weary, she kept me full.

And as mind is to other, so am I to love.

For I never gave up. 

I never give up.

And so I broke the Devil's heart instead.

But I wander back, aimlessly, tired, and striving for recognition. 

If the Devil is me and I am the Devil, then take me to the place where he is most at peace. Take me to the place where wild boars kiss the toes and hind legs of wild, wild women.

I was not born an architect, nor a mathematician.

But I was born with milk and salt embellished in my blood.

And I will never give up.

I will never give up.

I run scared because I don't know the answer yet,

but I don't need to, I'm already there, I'm already here, I just need to allow myself to feel it.

Have faith in your bones. Sink into your recognition.

The secret is quite comfortable.

''Make yourself at home,'' he said.

And so I do. I wrap myself in furs.

'I wouldn't mind for a cherry or two,' I said.

And then I waited.

And so did he.

And I climbed, and I climbed, and I climbed.

Through hairs of wood and speckled toes,

torn off, limb from limb. 

And I am born again.

Now more able, content.

Edible.

Less fragile, now I found the key.

Now she finds the scars,

and she bled, and she bled, and she bled.

And now she knows the sky.

'I am thirsty,' she said.

''Then drink. And I wish thee well.''

*

There is no such thing as hell,

it is a misconception.

''Leave that gate open would you?''

Tears swam down my face as we met,

in holy conjunction.

''You are my halo Jade.

You are my rain.''

That little girl is allowed to be beautiful you know.

The Devil is just a name.

Mallow

''..the young women, all danced away..
..and the swans, all danced away.''

15:04 - Open the door

''...or set her to wander (for a long time) looking for a place of nourishment and peace.''

15:06 - Counting sticks

Tell them that I hear them, and that I am grateful.
Silence does prevail, after all.
Have faith in your dying flowers,
for they are soon again born.
Pray, wish, and be thankful.
Talk to your fears.
Talk to me
I am listening. I am listening now.
I am open.

*

Find your rhythm. Find your feet.
Find your dance. Find your beat.
Find your bones and know your bones.
Can you feel it yet?..Can you feel it?
This is the rhythm and the dance of what we call life.
Know it, feel it, and dance with it.
She is waiting for you.

''The enemy is inside.''

Give in to the waves

This loneliness is progressive.

*

Fear not your naivety, embrace it.
Keep it with you and open, always.
It is a part of your deepest, most truest inner state of innocence.
Your naivety is your knowing, it is your key, your blessing, and your opening into the freest kind of innocence.
To be naive is to be alive.
But we must learn to stay wise within our most sensitive state.
Stay conscious as you open the door,
and steady your pace, 
as you open the gate.

Never forget the one who taught you how to breathe.

The sound waves you send out to space are magnetic.
Never forget the stars,
for they never forget you.
You are magnetic; a magnitude of inner starlight.
Your beauty is transcendental.
We are not mental, we are stars
or inner radiance,
and through our beating hearts
we stay connected.
Never forget who you really are.

''If sound waves carry on to infinity, where are their screams now?''

Where is she?
She is there.
Does she not care?
She is made of Mallow, of course she cares.
And slowly, as she re-appeared, in rags 'n tatters,
she presented her sap soddened head..
'I am not dead,' she said
'I was consumed by love. But I never gave up.'

I never gave up.

Skeleton Woman

From one glance to another

she looked me directly in the eyes.

Does she know what I know?

Why must we pretend with lies?

We are psychic women, and we are wise beyond our knowing.

Believe not in your lies.

Believe but in butterflies.

The only person that holds you back, is yourself.

Bang the drum. Beat the heart.

Call your heart into being.

Call upon your bones.

Call upon your butterfly bones.

Call upon - Skeleton Woman.

''Allow skeleton woman to become more palpable in your life, and she will make your life larger in return. When you free her from her tangled and misunderstood state and realize her as both teacher and lover, she becomes ally and partner.''

I have drummed through to the bones these past few days, in fact, I've been silently drumming for quite some time, but only now have I finally let her out.

Only now have I finally met Skeleton Woman

I have been fishing and I have untangled my net.

I have been running, for a long, long time.

But now, I let her out, and now, we sing, and now, we dance,

and I can't stop smiling.

I've felt high all weekend. My pupils were fully dilated yesterday, I was still buzzing from a musical jam me and my lovely friend Sooz had over the weekend - full of natural highs - and it felt AMAZING..we had such a scream! And we realized, both together, how bloody good we were...ARE.

We were both close to tears with our joy, it was powerfully overwhelming, to have realized our own creative potential in this way I've not felt a feeling like that before..the natural rush and natural high of intense joy all over my body; skeleton woman was out..and in full motion..jangling her bones. The day before, when I played with Javi, I felt her at the back of my throat, she was eager to get out, and now that I had called to her; now that she had heard my drumming, later that evening, she was out.
I see now that in the past I suppressed her with self doubt, I listened to fear instead of letting her out. I controlled most of my life instead of really living it - that felt safe, and safe was easy - but I soon began to realize and to learn, that safe and easy never really gave me any true satisfaction in return.
The demons that nagged at me during sleepless nights were her faithful warriors, guiding me to their fire; guiding me to her home; guiding me to my drums, and guiding me to my bones.
I played with that fire, and I danced on those bones.

And once again, she was out in full skelly swing.
I played with another musician, and oh my days..it was so good!! We jammed for a good three hours. It felt amazing to let my true self - my bare bones; my bare blood - come to the surface; to let my soul express herself freely - it was so beautiful, and to share this with another soul was amazing.

I'm collaborating with some very talented and very beautifully honest people.

I am very grateful for this, and I'm embracing it fully, and will continue to do so.

It's a very intimate and deeply communicative feeling when playing musically with another soul, especially when you open up your heart in such an honest and truthful way. This is something I tended to shy away from before, because I was afraid of my own potential; I was afraid of meeting skeleton woman; I was afraid of my butterfly bones.
But now, I embrace her, I call to her; I bang my drum, my beating heart, and I call upon my bones, and I sing her to the surface, and now she sings with me, and now we dance, to the beautiful beats of our butterfly bones. 

'It's very good for your digestion,' she said.
And so I ate the coconut,
and so I ate the banana.
Not just because it's good for my digestion, 
but because I was hungry.

x

By the River of the not-beautiful

''..the beautiful appears ugly in order to test someone's character.''

Yesterday was a beautifully transforming day for me,

 a building up of mountainous ants is gradually being set free.

 I had another music session with my musical friend Javi. I'd practised a little in my room beforehand, having an idea of what sort of melodies I'd like to play. 

I've played with Javi only a couple of times before, but each time has been great. The room is so peaceful, of colours of pastel greens and browns, and it holds a beautiful view from the window that looks out onto a gorgeous green garden, and the recording set up is amazing.

We sat with peppermint teas and he asked what I'd like to do. 

I sat at the keyboard and suggested that I just start playing a melody.

And so he picked up his guitar and waited for me to play.

I felt a little nervous, as always, but then soon relaxed as I started playing.

I played the melody I'd played at home just before, a melody of a song I wrote called 'By the River.'

I wrote the song over a year ago now, at a time when I was quite unwell.

It's a song about healing and cleansing, the lyrics of which are..

By the River, they cried.

By the River, they died..

and I sing harmonies in between.

When I wrote (and when I sing) this song, I envision myself in a clean, white dress, walking down towards the River, and I sit by the River, just watching if flow by.* I don't cry, nor do I see myself crying, and I don't die, nor do I see myself dying, but I know that this is what I am there to do; washing away my hurt and my pain, down by the River.

'What would cause such a tear to come forth?'

Before I told Javi what the song meant to me/where it came from, we played together and he added in a beautiful melody from his guitar and he also sang these words..

''Don't be afraid. Just let yourself go. 

Don't be afraid to explore yourself. Don't be afraid to feel.''

It was really beautiful, I felt as if he were speaking to me as he sang these words. They were really touching me, and I was listening, and we played together very beautifully.

Afterwards Javi asked me what the song was about and I told him. He then said that he didn't know where the words he sang came from, that they just came out in the moment of playing. 
I remember when we first met, Javi said that he absorbs people's energy and when playing musically together he can be singing about something that reflects on the other person's feelings. 
That was what had just happened, and I think he must have realised this, then he asked me if the words he sang related to me in any way, and I said that they did, very much so.

We played back the song we'd recorded and I felt myself choking up when listening to it. To hear my words singing back to me along with Javi's was deeply moving and I was almost brought to tears, tears I haven't cried for a while, but I held them back as I didn't want to cry in front of Javi.

In writing this, I've stumbled upon something I did not realise before..

* 'I sit by the River, just watching it flow by.'

Does this symbolize myself watching the flow of the River - the flow of life - and not wanting to take part?

Maybe that's a good thing..and maybe not.

But maybe now I should be in the River - drowning in the River - actually letting die what must die.

My clean dress to become dirty and soddened with soil.

I must reach the bottom of this River and see what's underneath.

There is a part of me that is still yet unexplored, a part of me that I so long to express and give recognition to, but to whom I shun, way too much. I shun her because I am afraid of her power. I fear her because she is as yet unknown; I have yet to meet her.

She is the dark but beautifully transforming Goddess that every woman holds deep within her bones, and I know now that I must let her out. I need to let her out. We need to let her out.

I think I'm just about due to meet my dark Goddess. And I am ready to be beautiful now.

I am ready to discover my true beauty.

Bones and teeth and blood and all.

''Our own secret hunger to be loved is the not-beautiful.''

You are never truly beautiful until you face you're darkest fears, for that is where she is buried, the 'not-beautiful' curling tongued Goddess. She is the one who holds your magic; your gold; the magic of transformation, and if we want it; if we are bold enough and brave enough to go in search of this gold, then we must be bold enough and brave enough to meet this curling tongued creature of the femme, and ask for what is truly ours.

But we also have work to do in order to receive our gold, lots of sorting, and lots of clearing, and this work isn't easy, and it is not meant to be easy, for whatever in this world that is easy is actually worth it?

This darkened creature of the femme makes us work, to uncover our true potential. 

Within her world we learn to sort the gold from the sand, 
and we learn to truly understand, 
what it is that we truly want.

..of our tears unshed, we wake the dead.

I am still due my tears, 

but my nails are buried deep,

deep within the sands of this ever unending darkened River's bed.

I'm sorting the gold from the sand.

I am now ready to understand.

Love your Ghosts (continued...)

..well, not quite nothing, for it is fear that keeps us alive, right?

Where her tears did fall,
she did so dig.

Her wide opened branches slowly faded into a waking dream.
There was no one else to blame for her insanity, you see,
for she herself drove herself insane.

What you fear the most is your own true beauty.
Let her shine, and be afraid no more.

Open the door.

I see a face.
I see eyes so wide and blue.

'They're beautiful, aren't they?'

''I only invoked what you already knew.''

I hear her voice much clearly now
and I fear death less the more I grow.

Love is in everything, you see,
and her waves of whispers come not too soon.

'Trust the ants,' they said, as they mounted their horses.

Saliva rises and falls and pours, along her motioned milky tongue.
The buds are sticky in June, I said
and indeed,
I already knew.

x

Love your ghosts

Love is not all sunshine and heartbeats.
Love is not always pretty.
Love; real love, in all its intricacy, in all its darkness,
in all its shapes and severed apartness, is beautiful in all its flaws.
Love is all around us, we're just afraid to touch it,
for that which we fear, is only our darkness.
Love is black. Love is white.
Love is day. Love is night.
Love is hate. Love is madness.
Love is lonely. Love is sadness.
Love stays with us and all around us.
Love is never unreachable, she is so close that we have no idea,
and yet we shut her out when we need her most.
Love is never guarded. Love will never judge.
Love is skulls and raindrops and
Love is much in need of touch.
I am open to whatever haunts me now.
I am unafraid of ghosts.
And the only thing that fears me most, is
well

nothing..