Hag Town

15.07.13

There was a lot of work going on in my dream state last night, lots of spanners in the work deep in my psyche, it felt as if I got right inside the cogs of my unconscious as I took myself on a personal and virtual trippy tour of dreamland. I found myself in a small, gnome-like town, an old town, a place for little creatures, and I came across two houses, one at either side of me. 

One of the houses welcomed only positive thoughts and attitudes and productive thinking, with no room or exceptions for unnecessary fears. The other house was for negative thoughts only, and it seemed to be falling apart by the second, and before I could explore inside, it suddenly became flooded in custard..(??!).

I can't recall if I explored the other house, but that seemed to be the one that I chose - positivity and a productive attitude.

As I began to explore deeper into this cog town I found myself walking through an underground tunnel, it was well lit and there were lots of people walking through it. 

I came across two old people, they appeared to be men, although one of them a little of both - male and female. This she-male began attacking me verbally, he looked viscous and angry, looking me in the eyes as he provoked me. As I felt the fear rising within my gut, I became sick and I was afraid, but instead of running away, something within me prevailed and I stayed. I confronted him and I myself became someone to be feared. I revealed my snarling, menacing face; my hag face, and I bellowed him to leave me be. As I did so, his face suddenly mellowed and he disappeared. I had used my fear as a tool to protect myself, instead of bottling it up and letting it destroy me.

Was this she-male my ego that I confronted, or my fear itself?

When we confront our fears, sometimes 'sending them love or light' to bid them away just won't do, sometimes we need to snarl our slimy teeth and reveal our venomous tongues in order to protect ourselves, in order for them, and for our 'whole' self, to truly understand and recognise our own power and potential.

If we run from what we fear, then we feed the negative (the house drowned in custard), yet if we face our fears, the more we feed and nourish the house of creative drive and potential. The more we stand up for ourselves, the more respect we receive and inspire within others.

Much in the same way as when you're trying to sleep in a hotel dorm, you're a long way from home, it's late, and the girl in the room next to you is chatting, quite loudly, to her friend on the phone. You lye in there in bed, sweltering from the nights heat, absolutely knackered and seething each time she wakes you from your meditative state of relaxation before you drift off into sleep.

Do you have to accept that situation and be masterfully Zen about it? 

Do you fuck.

You will anger yourself more and you'll hurt yourself in the process by suppressing your wild nature; by not standing up for yourself - through fear of not being liked if you do so.

Fuck that.

Sometimes a Zen attitude just won't do, and conforming is tiring, dry and draining.

So you get up out of bed, knock on her door, and tell her..''Please could you keep the noise down, I have an early start tomorrow and am trying to sleep.''  - Polite, yet the look on your face is bold, stagnant; she can practically smell your seriousness of the situation, and with her door half open, she nods and says quietly (much quieter now than she'd been talking on the phone earlier)..

''Oh yes, of course. I'm sorry.'' And closes the door.

You return to your bed, hoping to get some rest.

The girl's voice has quietened, and within ten minutes she ends her phone call.

It may be easier to accept certain situations and fears in your life, but it takes courage that is both sensitive and respectful to face them and stand up, not only to them, but more importantly, for yourself.

Be open and willing to accept the dark inside you as much as the light.

Nestle within it.

usted es su oscuridad

You are your darkness.

You are your Hag.

x

Little darkness

It was as if I was sweeping it away - the black, the muck. 

There was a heap of it above me, it was crackling, like stiff sticky plastic bags; black bin bags, birthing into the shapes of bats and crows; coming to life in their mutual mutations.

They terrified me, I was panicked and working in such a rush to get rid of it all; to sweep it all away, and the more I did so, the more it grew.

Little darkness

Little darkness

Little darkness of mine.

The sky shows me visions of my psyche; she follows me.

My scorpion rising, she know me, more than I know myself.

Unleashed from her tail; her skin; I am born again, and in her sting, I feel the true burn; the true bug; the true motion of life's affirming stem.

Massive wasp.

Massive mess.

Massive darkness.

That which we ignore, we also abuse.

'...listen to his feet..'

Dive into the darkness.

Meditating Madness

Last night I realised, that meditation is something I need not force myself to do, for I do so naturally, and have been doing so for a long while, without my realising, until now. I used to think of meditation as being a superior thing from me, like something that I had to hunt down or chase, but I found that it's quite the opposite, it is a superior state that is already within me which I am slowly beginning to unlock and discover, and it is a beautiful feeling.

My body and mind are becoming much more calmer and relaxed with each passing day; sensations of joy and bliss cover me in kisses at times when I least expect it. I feel alive; ecstatic..and no, I'm not on drink or drugs, I am but both drunk and high on love.

In my 'meditations' - my quiet states of solitude..whether alone in my room, or sat amongst crowds of people, I've found myself amongst many thoughts, which have caused me to sweat, bleed and drown myself in a wash of my own tears, but I bathed in and I faced them, I faced my deepest, darkest most blackest fears, head on, and I learned to welcome them with nothing but love, because, you see, I never give up.

No, we women, we 'mad' women; the 'Devil's women,' we never give up, not even in our most darkest of moments, and we would be mad to do such a thing, for it is in those blackest, most painful of moments where we meet ourselves; our true selves, and that is why it is so hard to face, because, you see, deep down, we women are not all that nice, and we are not all that beautiful.

 There is a mystery that lies in woman that even she herself cannot comprehend.

We'll laugh, and then we'll cry,

and we like it, 

but we don't know why.

For we are women,

and we bleed.

Yes,

 I am woman,

and I hurt.

And I'll stand alone, always,

and I'll go alone,
 for the rest of my days,

but you know, 

I like it, that way,

yes, I like it that way.

x

Wench

Transforming eye - I are transforming.

A spider's eye.

'...a vision of their own deepest longing..'

..is finally coming true.

Living and breathing the breath of my wild woman;

of our wild woman.

'..and behind its veil..'

..they do dare to curse, they do dare to dream,

and they scream

..although no one ever told them why.

'Listen to mine eye,' she says,

'and thy shall go far.'

She's much more prominent now, much more prominent and juicy,

yes, she is juicy, and warm,

and she's coming for her knight.

Does he know the answer?

Is he willing, not to fight, but to love?

Sweet, scented dove,

where was the peach that got bruised?

Impaled and bloodied,

for she listened and she lived

to tell the tale

of how amazing a feeling it is, 

to finally forgive.