Being Strong Today

Walk away from reinforcing the spells of the old illusion with your words, attention, thoughts, and especially your emotions.~Sandra Walter

I meticulously open places
of distortion in the torsion rivers
obstacles I’ve noticed avoid grace’s
flow, block my juices.  These eerie shivers

when I read apocryphal signposts, “move
along, nothing is buried here”
—childish
scrawls in hieroglyphs congruous behoove
my scrutiny.  I aim to free wildish

energy, elucidate what’s rooted
in ice-bound fjords, intense emotions
strategic intelligence once muted.
I’m heat, intentional thaw in motion.

Inspired by: Juice, Apocryphal, Congruous, Elucidate and Eerie. And the astoundingly powerfully life-changing work of Sol Luckman in the Elucidation activation.

Elucidation

Ah, don’t turn away 
this garrulous sky and I
cacophony honking
gaggle of geese
startled by swallows
moving in and out of waves
of sound or thoughts 
winging diaphonous. 
As leaves listen greenly
delicate clouds blush.
The veils dissolve
outside in thresholds
I bring the light.
My secret messages
cannot be read–
perhaps eaten or smoked
like magic or a cosmic joke.
Who seeks my energy,
so fine and fierce 
alas to no avail?
My sacred vessel has no door
opening
the way unfettered
out of your range,
here I am unreachable
uncaged.

Inspired by Catrin Welz-Stein’s marvelous piece Summer-Dreaming. Check out the gallery of amazing artwork for some great inspiration.

Any opening

Here I am, to save the day!
Does my radiant smile sway?
Did I interrupt your terror
engine? You defend error
hands off when I get precise

and stand in question. Advice:
dig in the dirt to expose the roots
and the house of cards lets loose
shifting precarious
appearing nefarious.

My metaphors are bouncing
in your dissonance, trouncing
the diffidence. I aim
for any opening. No game.
Stress kills. Our coping

mechanisms with a daily onslaught
induce injury in ways that ought
not happen when we
embrace collectively.
Come on outside, let’s play.

The nightmare recedes in the day
light of our awakening.
The eggshells of our former lives
are breaking. All around
there is the new sound.

 

Inspired by: Bounce, Precise, Engine, Hands and Radiant.

And this article by Sol Luckman (don’t miss the eye-opening video by Dr. Andrew Kaufman.)

To Be Clear

To be clear, I am far from stating that the material world does not exist.  Rather, I propose that what we think of as the real world is a holographic consciousness construct that–in all ways at all times–is subject to modification by our consciousness (or unconsciousness) of it.~Potentiate Your DNA, p. 70, Sol Luckman.

To be clear, I corroborate
starry-studded hope. The great
scheme permits a shift
deteriorates these rubber
stamps that once defined
a quirky campaign purely
designed to control us,
shut our inspiration down
before it’s found.
Wait.
That’s opaque.
Words lead
astray. Our hearts
know truth when we can
sit aground, intuit,
follow every trigger
to its source as a matter
of course. Everything changes.
The bigger gift appears
inside the rift
of our exchanges.
Mumbo-jumbo yet again.
Bafflegab gobbledygook.
In essence, I applaud your juju
all the power flowing through you
transmutes the lies
and obfuscations
into clear sight, wordless
roots of transformation.

Inspired by:  Permit, Rubber, HopeShut, CorroborateCampaign, Scheme, Quirk. and Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt to start my post with the first three words of the first full sentence of the book closest to me when I sit down to write.  (That sentence is the quote at the beginning.)  I was overambitious today, trying to use all of the past two days prompt words in this stream of consciousness post.  Braving my inner critic to hit publish even though it does appear to be mumbo jumbo.  Creativity needs to be released.  So be it.

 

Updating We Space

The world as we know it is fixed by the consciousness that perceives it. If you change the consciousness that perceives the world, we will realize that we are actually a constant updating process of the system that we live in. A human being is the translation of energy into structure. We are actually spirit becoming matter.~Thomas Huebl

Overnight change emerges full bloom—
not just the sudden chill that prompts

an online search for ways to warm my
morning space of heart-lake expansion.

I commit with zest to partner with my
life, walking the highest path. Illumined

by joy at my deep healing. Elusive
ethical corrections open to seeds

of potentiality landing in my fertile
soil. This is not some self-help new-age

wizardry, a five-year-plan for success.
New words are simmering and one day

we will converse in the florid flow
our new tribe-culture demands, the we

space of our relations in-forming what
really matters, fine-tuning energy

fluid now. In the lake a mallard male
leads two hens to the safety of bay

winding in until suddenly tall grasses
explode in preening ducklings, too

many wriggling bodies to count.
A pale-feathered molting drake zooms

to a beautifully plumed couple hidden
close to me. He menaces and blows

their cover, separates them, herding
the gorgeous nervous teal head to higher

ground, then they all eat, dabbling and I
am mystified by duck psychology.

My wonder engages. I don’t know.
I open my heart to this new connection.

Inspired by: Zest, Florid, Elusive and Partner. the first day after my DNA Potentiation, and this interview about climate change with Thomas Huebl.

Spontaneously Evolve

With a frisson of excitement I wonder
how my life flows, setting heartfelt

intentions like a child whose magic
seeps from cells. Blowing each fierce

balloon question into being–in the
beginning is the word. Ready for a new

mutated language evolving beyond the
acrimony of speech that courts me

to descend. I’m inviting impossible
gathered like a bright buoyant

bouquet as I tend to my path a new
way. I wonder how my life unfolds

when I can breathe after a race
in any weather, easy and smooth?

Wishing and manifesting by the moon
archaic tools now that I say I don’t

know. I wonder how I will receive with
an opened heart, barriers melting,

toxic materials no longer thriving here?
I wonder how my newfound gentleness

will touch the hidden places, sliding
into the light, unjudged?

They’re pouring through my pen, these
searches, as I center into the time–

tonight at ten–when I release them all
watching them soar into places unknown,

unattached to the outcome as they wind
into potentials only available to

this passionate wonder that births and
lets go, standing in the space of start

alert for any miracles that
synchronicity might send on the sly.

Inspired by: Frisson, Court, Acrimony and Impossible and the DNA Potentiation with Sol Luckman scheduled tonight.

What Is Fog?

Still infatuated by summer, huddled
in fleece jacket and blankets, piping

hot coffee, I’m in between and so
tingling with tomorrow’s initiation into

esoteric lore that I sprang from
sleep in the dark. I’m easing out

of political borders and national fervor
sliding into a global village web.

Dawn paints majestic
bright pink clouds as blue

sky announces the coming sun.
The lake ghosts spectral moving

westward as if summoned–not
a retreat from the power of east–

dancing columns rising reaching
like fingers of smoke. Oh, don’t

nag me with science. I’m all about
the soul right now. Here outside

the trance of modern life, taste
synchronicity, allow each significant

message to open me. Amidst
mystery, tasting cold on this

autumn porch. The light moves
me just as the dark

eases awareness into new
possibilities filtered out

by fear available now as I
fall in love with the portal

between night and day birds
assure my waking from my fog

Inspired by: Esoteric, Amidst, Infatuation, National and the Stream of Consciousness prompt to use -tast-. (And yesterday, my three-year-old grandson stopped me as I read an unfamiliar word and asked, “Bibi, what is fog?”)

Beggars Would Ride

The universe was literally spoken into being. Language, embodied in sound and light, not only affects, but effects the genesis of life. Go live your passion with all the joy, gratitude, love and laughter you can muster!~Sol Luckman

I slide open the doors and
blue feathers flash across water.

On the urban edge, another interrupted
heron breakfast. At my feet, a brown

spider’s carcass. When the birds disappear,
the ecosystem collapses.  We stir

uneasy, boxed in childhood fairytale
heroes and villains, easy duality

until a clear-eyed child points to
the strutting naked emperor.  How can we

reconcile the blatant evil–30 Afghan
farmers killed while sleeping, a king

receiving US troops to defend his
oil? The brutal empire tentacles

choke the vulnerable, while we
walk up hill and down to offer our

energy-fuel to this earth-destroying
machine. Complicit. Implicit. Illicit.

Manipulated to concur by a constant
stream of chaotic lies. Heads spinning,

which foe do we fight first? Hopeless
shoulders slump. The storytellers gloat

pretty falsities, sugared treats prepared
just for our refined palates. Addicted

to promises, the wishful silenced
by the indigestible. Hush now.

Sleep. The only way to change
the world is to wake and tell

a different story.
Seek and you shall

find, they used to say. Ask,
like any beggar, for a lift.

Inspired by: Laugh, Concur, Wishful and the old saying, if wishes were Horses, then beggars would ride.