The Day of Venus (XI)

How to Create Your Own Religion:

Invite. Observe the ecstatic moments that occur in your body throughout life, taking note of the details, and without discriminating against their form–welcome in these customized pleasure wavelengths as they are, and pursue them. Be pulled by what gives your spine, your feet, your wrists, your ears The Surge of Delight.

Call upon the names given to what makes you feel a flight in your chest–no tiny offering of joy taken for granted–they all play a role. Refer to your muses, the songs that have moved you, the stars that speak to you in the sky, your favorite chords, ingredients, chapters, psalms. Find comfort in the melodies of your sirens, the messages of your most treasured passages, your beloved monks, prophets, the villains you defend, your many teachers in the form of hymn, poem, story, painting, dance.

Attend Your Ceremonies, and tend to a temple made entirely of your own design–walls of valley, a seat by a window, a rock beside a creek, the bench of a train station, the base of a mountain, the throne of a hilltop, the heated gray cement slab in the courtyard of the company you work for, the green silk given to you by your mother on your 8th birthday, laid beside your bed. Whether church or palace, parking lot or basement, all praises are felt the same. All Places Are Holy Places. Create an alter out of the pieces of the world you’re drawn to–a 4 of spades card you found on the sidewalk, a feather, something to burn. Let there be a representation for the water, the earth, the wind and the fire inherent within, as much as without.

Recite the love letters you hear in your mind when you close your eyes; the words and phrases that bring you blankets of protection; the symbols that seem familiar, whether they were taught or created, or both. Recognize the sensation of familiar ancient comfort–allow them to wisp you into yourself, and out. Repeat their verses, and resound the proverbs that bind themselves to you. Chant them into form while you dance and while you stumble, before and during dreaming, while burning the toast. Turn your many prayers into songs, and sing out the passenger window while washing the dishes, as you rock your daughter to sleep, turn sand into glass, clay into brick, flower to seed.

Bow your head to the origins of any and every triumphant practice, movement, motion, task, and ritual that has moved you–anything that has even for a moment stirred your soul in a profound way. Do this and know: you are bowing to the same Creator as we all are. We Are All Sacred. Cultivate a routine that incorporates a daily honoring of the ones who have come before. Give gratitude for the tools they’ve passed on, the clues they’ve left behind. Abandon any declaration of separateness, and surrender to the call of the invisible thread binding us all.

Write the words of your Holy Text with your hands, your hips, the symbols formed by your spine as it braids itself through existence–electric and ancient. Know that to speak it is to write it, and to write it, to speak it. Develop a keen awareness of the word choices you are making, the words you are noticing around you, the phrases you are repeating, the topics you give energy and time to with your words. We write our own stories into existence by way of the words we choose, the words we allow to slip off of our tongues.

Tune into the signals coming to you from inside of yourself, and let those voices which are closest to your heart be the ones you filter your incoming messages through. The Voice That Knows what is best medicine for your spirit, the Mother and Father Guardians we have a direct line to. The antennas of the centipede that is your spine are alive and well. Use them.

We are all traced back to The Mother of All Mothers and All of Us Are Holy. –Let Us Remember

Flowers gifted by second graders this week
A student’s desk, as she left it, before going to lunch

The Power of Being Aware of Your Power feat. A Freedom Field Meditation

Wanaka Lavender Farm, South Island, New Zealand

We all have an inherent composition of the divine components that make up God, then we experience the world and absorb a collection of Less-Thans, leaving us forgetful. The purity of a childlike spirit who remembers this connection, then becomes a threat, a fear, a symbol of what they think they themselves do not possess.

There are people who mistake gold for worthiness, marble floors for validation, a picture next to the captured as proof they are above. Their very nature then becomes a game of conquer and claim. Having forgotten their blood runs sovereign and complete, they gather temporary moments of reign, by way of meddling with your pretty thoughts, making you question the sun radiating from your insides. They become addicted to placing you into the illusion that you need them, that you are less than, that your very existence is a lie, that you have no business beaming the way you do.

In the same way coconut husk smoke and citronella keep mosquitoes away, we are able to repel and neutralize the occasional encounter we have with what we will call “forgetfuls”, and this is by engaging with and staying in close communication with that seed-like ball of energy that lives, that beckons, that remembers. The Knowing, and the very awareness that this spirit-dwelling ember can never be taken away from you, is at the core of your sovereignty. This presence with yourself, this idea of basking in the company of your very own aliveness, is at the core of refraining from giving in to the illusion that you lack anything, or need something external to make you feel complete.

Awareness of your inherent power is what neutralizes and redirects the forgetfuls that appear within and around us.

Awareness of your inherent power is what neutralizes and redirects the forgetfuls that appear within and around us. Practiced enough, this daily choosing yourself, and this consistent awareness of invitations to leave, becomes a dance you do by default, an automatic deflection of what doesn’t pair up to what you are emitting. Your existence becomes so blinding, and so sure, that it causes any internal or external forgetful, to remember how unnecessary it is to spend time in pursuit of what never left them in the first place.

…for if they knew they were inherently worthy, they would not be trying to “take” what they already have.

The external encounters are mirrors, as everything is, whether we like it or not. Everything is either energy, or potential energy–but it is all energy. Energy is able to be transferred, manipulated, and dissolved into it’s core component(s). The source of any forgetful’s need to “take”, “prove”, or “dismantle” is that they have not taken the time to remember their inherent worthiness, for if they knew they were inherently worthy, they would not be trying to “take” what they already have.

These forgetful mosquitoes are within, just as much as they are outside of us. This is because our own thoughts about ourselves, others and the world around us, can be just as, if not more life-draining than an external vacuum of energy. Left to their own devices and going unchecked, the ideas we absorb from our external worlds can morph into ideas we allow to stay swimming in our minds for sometimes years on end. Awareness is the key–if you can learn to observe where and when this is happening, you are able to study the pattern and it’s origins, in order to turn it on it’s head for the lie it is.

When in the midst of The Great Pressure–an idea that promotes lack is either coming from within or without–(sometimes you can’t be sure which came first, eh?), as if you see a yellow light in the distance, practice telling yourself to slow down, your foot gently moving the break-pedal close to the floor. Speak, move, and even think in slow motion, as if you are watching your thoughts like subtitles along a screen, like they are detached from your soul-body, and belong to a slow-moving commercial. What are you being sold by way of this message? What is asking you to leave yourself? Where is the source of the offer to forget how wondrous your very existence is? Are you able to see far enough into it’s origins–the way every hurt was birthed from another hurt? You have the power to transform this into an energy that is in everyone’s best interest, leaving you lightweight and free to move in the world in accordance with the highest version of yourself.

At some point in our lives, we were sold an idea of being “less-than” something or another. When we evaluate what these purchases were–when they happened, from whom they were bought from—studying the pattern’s lineage, we come to the point where we open the closet door, and look under the bed, to see nothing actually there–all of the invitations to leave ourselves just empty fearful signals.

Once upon a time, these amnesiac ideas of lack, were transferred, and in a vulnerable disposition, The Less-Than Cloak was draped over your shoulders, and you kept it on. Your wings, your scales, your voice, and your bones as mighty as mountains–hushed, hidden, told to keep silent..

If you feel you have absorbed limitations placed on you by way of family, society, or somewhere else, or perhaps you just need a quick tune-up for remembering how perfect and incredible you are, as you are, give yourself permission to shed what doesn’t belong, and return to yourself:

Meditation (Script):

Come on an experience with me now.. Close your eyes if you are able to. Imagine what your Cloak of Less-Than’s might look like. Where do the pieces of cloth that made it come from? What colors, textures, and components would it have? How is it tied around you and what is that tie made of?

Imagine it is enveloping you, grazing your forearms, the fabric touching your skin when you lean back into your chair. Is there a hood attached that you keep over your head–eyes low and watchful, feeling unseen and small? Maybe there are words on it that were said directly to you, or maybe they are the labels, categories, and assumptions you’ve taken on from society. Holding the image in your mind of your Less-Than Cloak, sit with it, in all it’s heaviness. Know that right now, acknowledging that it exists, and you have been wearing it, is the key to being able to take it off. Do not run away from the feelings. Do not speed through. Feel all of it’s weight around you. Imagine the way it has been training you to move in the world–walk a certain way, stumbling and cautiously stepping in a fashion that accommodates for it’s placement.

Now acknowledge that it is a removable item, disposable and irrelevant. Recognize that you have been wearing it, with the capability of removing it at any time. Say out loud: “You are a cloak and I can take you off. You do not belong to me. I was not born with you.” Say it as many times as feels good–repeat until you really feel it.

Now, lift your right hand to the tie that keeps the cloak in place. Pull on the string that binds it to your body. Feel the soft tug of it’s unfastening. Lift the hood up off of over your head, to feel your forehead greeting the sky. If it sits on your sweet shoulder blades, shrug it to the floor. Look at it now, beside your feet–a thing, a pile, a once-was-worn. Now take notice of your bare shoulders, the tint of your skin changing in different lighting–every spot, crinkle and hair like the flowers, trees and fruits of the earth–free to grow and reach and twirl in the wind.

Imagine yourself moving freely through a Freedom Field all your own–grass soft and cool under your feet, the horizon of the earth all around you, the sky a splendor of colors that are easy on your eyes. What plants are around you? Are there trees in the distance? A row of valley towering beside you? Envision yourself leaping over and away from the cloak on the ground, the sky now able to kiss your skin, your feet able to move in a rhythm you remember as your own–without stumbling or reducing your prances to mere shuffles. You can dive into the air in front of you, swirling and swaying and playful, your head looking up and around and in front of you with ease and gentle strength.

Now take a moment to picture yourself resting in that Freedom Field you have created–notice the way you are able to sit or lay without altering or adjusting anything–you simply decide you’d like to rest, and so you do it. Your body is welcomed by the earth beneath you, the ground a bed that knows your body like it knows itself. Feel the expansiveness there is in simply resting when you feel called to rest, wherever you are. Imagine you are in the safest place on earth. Now let us stay here a moment.

Move your hands to be palm-down over your belly-button, one hand placed over the other, and then move about 1-2 inches down, your hands resting in that space between your navel and your pelvic area. Notice the way that space in your body feels below your hands–simply notice without any judgment. Is there a surge of electricity? Does it feel like a knot? No matter what it feels like, simply observe and accept that that is what it feels like.

Now visualize the clean air of your Freedom Field, is being swallowed on your next intake of breath, those very particles from that open field of skipping and rejoicing, is being led straight into that place at the base of your spine, deep beneath your hands. With every intake of breath, the lightness of that sky is filling itself into your stomach, those loving air particles snuggling up against your bones, veins, muscles, organs. Visualize the tiny crystallized elements in Freedom Field Air making their way through your body and swirling through the halls of your inner palace, decorating it with petal, forest and sunlight.

Imagine that as it sweeps through your body, on every single inhale, it works it’s way in deeper, that each time there is an intake, a river way is cleared of debris, more water is let in, more space is made for it’s flowing. Slowly and surely, even if it is millimeter by millimeter, then maybe sometimes it is by inches–space is made, more is let in, and more stays there for longer, before making it’s way back up.. And as you ease yourself out of this meditation, may you remember that you can return to this field as many times as you need to.

You can take off any Cloak of Less-Than’s, and prance into your Freedom Field to be who you truly are, daily. It is a daily practice, a daily decision, and in the process of recovery, consistently returning to yourself in your Freedom Field allows for this to become the default state you live in. Return, and return and return, and stay. Forgive yourself for wearing the cloak as long as you did before you were aware. Then forgive yourself for sometimes placing it on again absent-mindedly, out of a pattern you abided by before you remembered yourself. But always return to your Freedom Field. This is your home, and you can guide yourself back, anytime, all on your own.

On Moments of Remembering & What to Do with Them

The mind has the ability to digest any truth that is read, and in turn have the spirit chime in that, yes, it rings true. We are creations that have inherited The Truth of The Universe, which knows no language or form. By default we possess this inner knowing, and sometimes we hear and read symbols on earth that resonate with this wisdom, that sing the tune of Truth we feel deep in our chests.

We receive these signals, then we go back to work–the tending, the caring, the abiding by, the responding–we are left with our patterns: the coats we have tried on, the shawls left on a sidewalk for someone else to use, ones so invisible to us that we have adopted them as a part of our skins, some removed then recovered in a later time of life, others stumbled into, given to us, then coats our earth guardians have zipped up to our chins upon being brought into the world. Coats that distract us from the core of our knowing. Coats that we needed until we realized we didn’t. But there is always the return, the promise of moments in time when we remember who we are–when the sun rises and presents a color we haven’t witnessed before, yet somehow recognize, the slip of the tongue of children around us–their simple questions worth asking that tell us systems we deem as ultimate, are not so ultimate after all, and then when we read a message delivered in such a way, that it speaks directly to the God within. Moments in meditation when we reach The Realm of Simply Being, when chords are sequentially delivered from the divine, their melodies like the palms of heaven’s hands, cupped delicately over your ears, and then sometimes the moment is in those brief milliseconds upon waking, before remembering our bodies, our walls, our obligations. These moments present themselves all life long, and in between those moments we wear our coats, and try to move along as the world is moving along, between sun rise and sun down, stepping into footsteps, looking for pathways, finding temporary comfort in coats familiar.

Then there are chapters of times in our lives, where instead of living between these moments, we are among them, when we consistently remember we have machete’s to find a clearing in The Wild, we have our songs and our hands and our blood. Blood unlike, yet very much a part of, the blood that came before us, that created us, carried us, the blood of our neighbors, the blood in the winged above, the blood in the cold below. Blood of mineral and iron and stories–stories made of coats that were gifts, that were left behind, worn until ragged, made anew, dipped in spring water, buried in ash. We are actively alive and inside of every story made up of these Truth Moments, where messages were delivered, and Remembrance Rang through. All the blood before and beyond, given their very own messages of the same Exquisite Infinite.

May waves of these Truth Moments take hold of us all, and carry us for longer and longer amounts of time in all of time’s capacities. May we gain a way of weaving ourselves through our words and actions that are rooted in these Rememberings we all carry. And may we take the time to deliberately remember.

May mothers remember the daughters within themselves, and laugh with mouths so wide-open that they taste sun, and drink in moon–may our feet made-for-dirt and sky, find no inhibitions in our dances, our greetings, our runnings, our work.

May fathers remember the sons within themselves, and pause along pathways to ask their why’s, and how’s, and what for’s–may their throats thirst for Truth, and be quenched in returning to connectivity.

May all of our vessels be recognized as Holy,

all of us look one another in the eye,

in recognition of the sacred.

May our coats be disregarded and used only for good–

celebrated, transmuted, taken off when too heavy.

May we hold the infinite wisdom, as residing in messages abound,

and infuse it’s simple potency into the invisible of our daily lives.

For the world transforms into more balance,

the longer we swim in those moments of remembering,

the more we accept as individuals,

that it is in those moments,

the real work is done.