Nostalgia

I remembered you wrong I remembered you strong I have severed all links, all attachments To study your gestures You shephard, you merchant You cold-hearted deserter Death is not a trivial matter Death is no trivial matter La muerte no es un asunto trivial And jealousy appeared Among a crowd of well-wishers And carried these mournful lanterns All gossip, all slander My sweet black childhood A secret son of europe In stern ordeals Our great refusal to fear La muerte no es un asunto trivial Mi dulce y negra niñez Un hijo secreto de europa Todo lo que hemos hecho Todo... He perdonado Todo... He perdonado Einmal vor Unermässlichem stehen ( Stand before the immeasurable ) Einmal vor Unaussprechlichem stehen ( Stand before the unspeakable ) Einmal vor Unbestechlichem stehen ( Stand before the incorruptible ) Einmal vor Unverdächtigem stehen ( Stand before the one who is not suspect ) I remembered you strong (Einmal vor Unvergesslichem stehen) ...

I added lots of new posts and I'll be blogging again now that I'm settling in. Use the labels tab on the left to see all my posts sorted by subject, regardless of date. I want this to be a source for good spiritual writing but also a reflection and expression of my soul. I'll start recording my own thoughts more as I feel more comfortable with that. You've meant something to me at one point if I've shared this with you and I hope you get something from it.

Lucifer walk with me  Lucifer inflame this heart  Lucifer embrace this soul  For I am fallen just like you I gave in  To life's bitter promises  Yes I gave in  But not again Lucifer embrace my soul  I've lost everything - all I love  Lucifer we share the dark  We are brothers you and I I gave in  To life's bitter promises  Yes I gave in  But not again Lucifer share this wine  Bitter and black like my love  Lucifer share my wine  One last toast before I go I gave in  To life's bitter promises  Yes I gave in  But not again

   This is intuitive work; modern peoples' difficulty in learning how to do this is a direct consequence of the loss of Pagan Mysteries; a direct consequence of the demonizing of the divine feminine, Dame Wisdom herself, a programmed mistrust of the feeling, intuitive aspect of our natures. Dominant religions are oriented around a basic mistrust of the human heart and feelings - the heart is corrupt with sin, even according to the Bible. At this point, we must make a stand, and part ways with the human-hating religions that turn people against themselves, all to better force them into reliance on dogma, and into reliance on religious leaders and institutions.   A person, at some point, has to stop fighting to make every aspect of their experience "conform" with some notion of how things "have to be," and let the great web of Fate be what it is, because nothing can change how Fate is, or how things "are" on the deepest levels. Luckily, it's no...

   Easing deeper into the woods, I notice that some trees are joined together as pairs. One of the partners is usually larger than the other, and most have grown from a fallen tree trunk or stump, of which only a rotted hulk remains. Surprisingly, many of the pairs are mixed. The first of these I find is a fluted hemlock standing with a smooth-trunked spruce. The two lean slightly apart, but near the ground they merge, so that each has shaped itself into the other. The most remarkable thing is their roots, an intertwined mass of living tree flesh that grows over a decayed log like a tangle of fingers clutching the dark earth below. In some pairs, the root masses rise five or six feet above the ground before coalescing into mated trunks.    These coupled trees reach into the same soil and share its nurturing, share the same rains, brace themselves against the same shuddering gusts, feel the same summer warmth and winter cold, flourish in the same moments of ...

   My fears about the boat subside as the night passes. Wind, sea, and rain become a voice of pure wildness, expression of the enormous, powerful thing that was born far out over the ocean, grew and intensified, and now sprawls up against the coast. Someday a storm like this might catch me on the water and carry me away, but I love it all the same. What better way to vanish than into the dark flailing breath of a north Pacific storm?    I float toward sleep, drawn away from the fears in my mind by the comforting tempest outside. The great storm contains me. - Richard Nelson, "The Island Within"