Shreds of cloudwith pinkand silver lining.

Birds resting on the roof ridge – a feathered convention

chirping excitedly

as

upper breezes paint the sky

with broad strokes

dipped in passing clouds,

curved like horns of plenty.

Pink glides into

silver, then antique white

set in blue as

the sun,

a brilliant pulsating orb

appears on the stage,

commanding attentionas

as a diva commands

her audience

before lifting  her voice

to the heavens.

Life giving energy

pushes the night away,

and the darkness,

before announcing that

another day has dawned

with light to see

each other

for what we really are -

travelers on this ship of hope -

this Blue Planet.

Revel in the music

until the final note

fades in the western sky. 

It is from here,

my friends,

that we will spread our wings and fly into the unknown,

beyond our sun -.

We are the People of the Dawn.

Our day is yet to come. 

Vi Jones©December 1, 2006

Love smells safe, like blue grass
love is the smell of roses,
the scent of home,
hugging loved ones
after a weary day.
Love is the perfume of angels
an evocative scent that drifts by
when we least expect.
peacebird

Candle light flickering in the warm air, the kiss on her cheek woke her though she knew there was no one there…..Consciousness drifting, remembering. The sudden fall onto wet, slippery leaves, browns and greens of the forest floor, rain dripping through branches chilling her skin and numbing her bruised fingers. Panic filling her mind, ‘Where am I?’ ‘You’re safe, theres no harm, no harm, all is well’. Gentle hands lifted her and cradled her shoulders. Together they walked the forest path, rain changing to mist as sunlight dappled through the branches, warming her body and soul. Stopping by a pool, her companion filled a cup. ’Drink’. Obedient in her weakness, she felt  moisture course through her body, giving life, light and strength. ‘Where am I?’ ‘You have slipped through time and between worlds. Come.’ She followed to a clearing, a small dwelling sheltered by trees and a sunlit garden.’Wait here now.’ And again,’You’re safe, Theres no harm, no harm, all is well.’ The kiss on her cheek woke her. And though she knew there was no one there she heard the same voice. ‘You slipped through time and between worlds. Your past and your future is healed, with love. Love is all there is.’ Later, walking through the forest, they picnicked in a clearing, near a small dwellling sheltered by trees, and a sunlit garden. Following the stream to a waterfall, they gathered flowers along the way. She sat watching the bright dragonflies darting amongst the spray and as she half closed her eyes, thoughts drifting. ’They could almost be angels wings’ she heard a voice whisper, ‘Love is all there is’.

peacedove

 If we meet somewhere in passing

Please don’t nod or wave, don’t smile,

Do not in any way acknowledge me,

Much too late now for us to be old friends.

Those shards of glass or bone you see pitted

Deep into my face are the remnants

Of what you weren’t content to fracture

But had to shatter making clear

If you were not to be my chosen one

You would make certain no one would

Choose me.

If you hear of me, or where I am

Or who I’m with, please don’t think

You have the right to contact me:

Don’t pick up a telephone in the belief

That we will have a cozy chat and reminisce,

Share intimacies, be critical, make fun

Of last night’s dinner guests drinking too much

Or telling,  yet again,  stories of baby daughters

Adolescent sons; don’t even for a second

Imagine there will ever be a time when 

I’ll forget that demonic, violent stare

And the way your eyes glared into mine

But failed to see the fear and terror

You engendered there, on that raw night;

The horror of what I saw in you

Comes back in dreams, crushes 

Every semblance of trust I long to have;

You should be overjoyed, 

You got your way;

So don’t be fretting that you’re missing out

On time with me;

Believe it,  we’re together every day.

 Jan 

These ladies are friends of my Great Grandmother, Judith Smith, and came to celebrate

her Golden Wedding. They certainly represent my idea of “Elders” from the past.

Sylvia Kleindinst

So now, let it go, let it go for me;

They cannot hurt you any more than this -

And you are loved so dear – it must not be

That you cling on to bitterest memory.

In my arms now, I ask of you

Can you try to put this to one side

And think no more of past hurt and past pain,

Will you try for me?

Do not keep this grief close to you heart -

Give what you can, and take, and even more

Bring your trust here, we give our welcome free;

And bring yourself - and what you want to be.

Jan

I adore Judith Duerk and this prompt from the Gatekeeper is ripening in the womb of my creativity.

The Gatekeeper gives you a small silken bag… and invites you to fill
it from your conscious woundedness, from your deepest awareness as
woman… and lastly from your joy.

~~*~~*^*^*~~*~~

As I read about the bags that others crafted I fell in love with EACH and every one of them… I wondered what my bag would hold. The mandala here is a series of eight women – four with their heads towards the eye of the sixth chakra and four with their heads flying off the edge of the circle. Below the heads are small circles with breasts and below those are circles that many people see as “hearts.” So this led me to reflect a bit on a practice I learned from Angie Arriens. It is about checking in with the status of my four-chambered heart.

In this tradition, we ask ourselves where is my heart full, clear, open, and strong. It begins with a question to appease the inner critic.

Is the good, true, and beautiful within me as strong as the whispers
of diminishment?

What is the condition of my four-chambered heart?

• Where am I full hearted?
• Where am I clear hearted?
• Where am I open hearted?
• Where am I strong hearted?

When I am  half-hearted, I am not giving my full abiltities to the task at hand. When I am full hearted, I bring every bit of my being to anything I do. Today, in late October, as the nights are lenghtening, I am FULL HEARTED.

When my heart is filled with ambivalence and indifference, I am unable to move. This is when I must sit still and listen for the whisper. I often rush ahead, moving much faster than the pace of guidance. Today though, I am moving at a sustainable pace – not galloping, but perhaps loping or trotting. I am of CLEAR HEART today.

I work a lot with keeping my heart undefended. I struggle to remember that every break in my heart, cracks it wide open. Every wound is just the exact wounding I need to develop my gifts of soul. I am emerging from a time of entrenchment where my heart was very defended. As a moderator of a sacred circle, I felt under attack for my visions. In time, I am removing the defenses that guarded my heart. I am also tucking my heart away into a special transparent pouch that will allow it to be worn on my sleeve and then quickly protected if necessary. Soon I hope to have no need for that protection. Today I am OPEN HEARTED. OK – mostly open hearted – all right as open hearted as I can be in this moment. <that inner critic is something else!>
Rarely do I lack for courage. I may feel fear, but am still willing to be courageous. I am often STRONG HEARTED and it scares the living daylights out of most people.

~~*~~*^*^*~~*~~

And that dear Keeper of the Gate to the Cave of Ancients is what I am carrying in my Heart Bag. I am carrying my four chambered heart.

My Heart bag comes everywhere with me. It is small enough to fit into the bottom of my big leather satchel that carries everything a mother and her children might possibly need, like maybe a cereal bar to satisfy hunger pangs, or a bottle of water to quench thirst, or maybe a hankie to dry tears and a sniffly nose, and, of course, a notebook or 2 for when inspiration strikes….pretty much everything but the kitchen sink!!!

As a performing magician with a medieval flair, I have become expert in period appropriate effects, garb and setting for various pre-1700 cultures. This includes, of course, fine separation between acceptable ‘performance magics’, and arcane practices – especially those proscribed by religious fear or superstition. Yet, when a traveling performer combined music, magic, skit and story; the impact on both audience and performer may have been magickal, allowing each to touch on mystery and knowledge beyond the edge of reason.

I use pouches to this end! For one thing, cloths in that period had no pockets, nor ready tables, nor ideal performing conditions of light and angle. Thus, as I wander from camp to camp I must be prepared for any situation – including the troublesome one in which many views have already seen some effects. I have sorted my magic paraphernalia into carrying pouches and satchels of leather and cloth – each containing a dozen possible effects to blend with story and situation. The items needed for a particular effect (not trick) are likewise contained in their own smallish pouch, bag or box for easy retrieval by touch.

A pouch for me then may serve as pocket, table, storage cabinet, organizer, ‘servant’, etc. – but for all a source of wonderment and excitement. As I reach inside, all eyes follow in expectation of miracle or surprise – none watching my other hand where the deed is done! I perform many effect with objects found at the audience table or person and have no need of the pouch at all – but its presence – its bottomless source of awe and wonder is most magickal – as if I am reaching into the depths of soul …

and perhaps I am.

My heart bag joined me last December, wrapping a lovely deck of Tarot Cards from my ‘baby’ brother, Matt, as my Christmas gift.  I have velvet bags to hold each deck of Tarot Cards, and for my Rune Stones, so the black suede with blue suede fringe drawstring bag became my heart bag.

It is never closed, for hearts should always be open to the wonder in our world.  Empty, so that is is ready to be filled up with love, hope, faith, or joy; and ready to pour them out into the world as a gift.

It is also pleasant to touch, encouraging others to treat it gently, and attractive to the eyes, so they will relax and know trust.

The sturdiness of the suede symbolises the indomitable nature of the human heart, it can survive almost anything and bounce back, stronger and purer.

There are no embellishments or decorations on my Heart Bag, for two reasons;

1) Keep your life simple, to know peace,

2) To remember that true beauty needs no fancying up.