Whose gun is at your head?
Tomorrow I graduate,
And feast on my heart; they're giving it back.
Only small parts though...
Freedom is not exactly free.

As I tick through a day that doesn't feel
     R. E. A. L.
I'll remember a time when eating clocks
Was a delight
And night never came
Because time never sung.

But what will tomorrow bring?
The final burst of detrimental metaphors and acidic teachers egos,
Who depend on a pay package
"Not enough" for their knowledge.
They should've stayed human.

I wince as the cogs twist
And an ever continuing robotic system
Chomps down on thousands of more souls.

And I beg for new a freedom.

A Round table.
Dinner.

9 Goddesses Sit.

A chocolate Angel with aphrodisiac saffron, almond honey bars of bliss 2 squares enough to get you as high as you like, heart racing, body tingling, a silly silky kind of euphoria kissing the inside of my capillaries
and cacao energy bouncing across my hyper sensitive pathways.
A Smart Cosmic Cookie giggling with winky eyes
A flamenco beat with ideas to translate movement into music
A silver haired tarot reader from Peru, yellow beads strung round her neck, her vibrant skin glowing earth brown-red
her energy sung out luminous.

At least 3 generations are co-existing in pleasant harmony,
All of us : healers of a sort,
None of us :  hold only one job or skill,
Two of us :  are currently in nomad travel phase ( Youngest and Oldest)

When two men pass by and say hello
I feel our energy say hello in unison but with some nonchalance, centered more upon the union of grounded,
clean and compassionate energy exuding from us all,


We laugh and are present
love is abundant.

We joke that they don't know what they've let into the festival
"exorcisms and stuff" as a few of us fake laugh an evil cackle, erupting in giggles.

There's talk of herbal medicines and herbal hair conditioners,
I sit and maintain my conscious space by not thinking
being aware is my mode of being
acting upon feeling,
using mind to restrain all words from exiting my mouth,
not mindless babble.

I smile to myself and inhale the fragrance of light workers living.

She had golden nail varnish and a fluffy pink waistcoat embroidered with zen patterns
her teachings released emotions and strengthened our bodies
we spoke  on green juice  
and veggies
as the sun exhaled into the could be of a day

clouds inhaled as the breath of the earth rustled and relaxed us

sparrows swung low over the lake

as our bodies got low and our minds stayed awake

open to the joy
acceptance of the gifts
unexpected personal yoga lessons
or
next door light bringers
or
love that lives on faraway continents
or any number of supposed coincidence
perhaps simply being able to get up in the morning with ease

Old days of the work
come to me now
aid me in my wisdom
call me to my work once more
touch me with your light
may i integrate into myself the harvest
and may i plant for the winter
may i share of the bounty
the fullness of nothing
the emptiness of everything
may i offer the waters
and in turn be quenched.

Consciously curating the thoughts that stream through
offering a space in mind , working the mind
not just a block of damp cheese soaking up the leftover gruel but a fine fine piece of raw chocolate sweetened a tad by maple syrup and dotted with raspberries

that's me allright.
No matter the folly
It's time to rise and shine
Self consciousness really doesn't suit me
I know I got a few bruises but and I'd rather be amused than some kind of fanatic muse to a ***** artist any day
Humor is the hotline to Unconditioned Love Centers .

Snapping and projecting at other people is really lame self-defense because i'm picking fights with these tactics,
exaggerating anthills with this mindset
and digging graves using two left shoes with this clouded vision
from which
ultimately
I'll have to climb out of
because I'm not dead and no one was attacking me in the first place.

Why is it so difficult to be honest with myself when I'm faced with an error in my judgement or an unhealthy way of life is beguiling me to stay on tap?

Ignorance of Inner life, Inner worlds and Inner vision.
Got me trippin at ego's palace , high on self-pity
Drunk and dizzy on sickly sweet aggression.  

It's a scandal that these spaces of inner lands are vastly ignored as children and youth, blindly wondering the world           confused
with a rhythm that is skewed
because I know more about the gossip of the evening news
when really, this is      where the treasure is, this is
where the wisdom rests
this is where the magic lives!
All inside my beating chest, burrowed back beneath my eyes
somewhere where the 5 senses would be throughly surprised
accessed through quiet stillness or ecstatic joy
known to many as chills along the spine or the tingles of goose bump whispers
access to dimensions unfathomed
all waiting
for the space to become

realized , actualized and known.

I've realized, i'm a seasoned traveller through these Inner pathways and I've been holding myself back for fear I'm not beautiful enough
but
You know, if I hang around and wait for all you lot to catch up or for myself to suddenly be "like everyone else"
I'll never make it back with the goods in time
because
there is something more fun than enjoying depression
it's called not enjoying depression!

humor is the hotline ,
to the whole centre consciousness

Here's a joke:
What's left when all the mistakes have turned to dust , blown away by winds of change?
A fine sculpted piece of consciousness and three eyes with vision expanded.

It’s already on the way out that’s how I see letting go, all that is required of me is to make space for whatever it is to leave. Something else is coming anyway, that’s nature. Nothing ever dies it transmutes. Everything is evolving through transmutation anyway. It’s harmony ya’know?
It’s the harmony to the melody
same same but different
interconnected but all of it’s own.
That’s how exploration lives
jumping from one harmony to another

I was at the edge of myself       almost becoming
the words waiting in silence


maybe i don't have to explain
because I saw two trees
embrace
in the justpastmidnight light
and the vision
stilled me.

Fear of the dark, a somewhat childlike fear, lead me to an electric shock, which lead me to break my vow of silence, which lead me learn what happiness really is.

Being happy is not fake sunshine advert sitcom glory
It is
Being able to take the gory and daunting turn of events that is
Making a mistake.

Talking it through
Or shouting it through, hissing it through
But
Above all
Letting it pass through -

Listening to another when emotions are heightened,
Using the strength and courage I’ve been cultivating to make that step (or leap)
To recognition of a lesson peeking out from the rubble of a mistake.

Mine were, in no particular order

Preparation, communication, setting and community

Did I really prepare my local community for what I was embarking on?
No, I did not explain what I was doing thoroughly.
Was the setting of meeting new family and old people in a house where 4 languages are spoken daily to get all communication clear, really the best place to take a vow of silence?
No.
Was I myself ready? Stable enough in who I am
to withstand the pressures of others all around me?
Or to maintain silence in the face of a panic attack?  
I didn’t know until I tried.
And the answer was no.

And *that is happiness.
Being able to take the gory and daunting turn of events that is
Making a mistake
Into
Relinquishing myself from self hate
Recognizing old patterns of destruction
Ushering in new ones of growth and peace
Embracing the fact that i can feel myself laughing
at the ludicrousness of it all           despite parts of me wanting to remain angry

Having compassion for those around me
Including myself -

A Being,
Happy.