Weaving Gold

Mokosha, Anastasia Sophia, and Me, Natalia . . . while the books are written

Staying Alive

IMG_1411I am somewhere; I’m not sure where. It doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing matters, and everything matters. This I’ve learned: there are two sides to every coin. What I want to know is, what’s in the middle? What’s between/inside the head and the tail?

I am somewhere; I’m not sure where. I see a pink sky and yellow trees. The path before me is purple. There is a hum-buzz in the air. I am immersed in a magical place, in a splendiferous time. I stand rooted, immobilized, magnified and compressified. I am taking in oxygen, but I can barely breathe. Nothing matters. Everything matters.

Shall I send down roots, plant myself here, now, stay forever, fornever? Shall I soar into the pinkness, munch the yellowness, and/or charge onto the lavender lane? Shall I breathe, once more, or shall I cease? Shall I listen, or bury my head in the sand? Am I to live in this Some I-don’t-know Where, or can I figure out how to creep, intrude, insinuate-infuse myself into the mysterious center?

Writing Prompt
“I am somewhere; I’m not sure where, it doesn’t seem to matter.”

Transformation, Transmutation, Release

Composure. Responsibility. Stature.

Duty, to people and source, was everything to me. The reward for exemplary execution of duties: grace. The punishment for failure: death. Ordinary death, the kind that contains within itself the freeing of the spirit and transmutation of physical elements, would have granted  release. Instead, I was mummified — preserved and bound to the earth for millennia.

I’ve come again and again, striving for rectification, not realizing that there was nothing to redress. Even though it was my body that was contained, restrained, and petrified, my soul became a knife-point that cut spontaneity and vulnerability from me. I ceased trusting myself. I encased myself in a shiny, steel pyramid, staying safe by letting nothing and no one in.

It is time to break out of what the fortress-prison I constructed, to protect myself. My enemy is revealing itself to be a phantom — false beliefs about self, source, and universe. It is time to awaken the innocence and the innocent within. Talitha, cum!


Just because you’re momentarily afraid of your own creation does not mean you’re not safe.
~ Jarrad Hewett in Love, Life, God: The Journey of Creation

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am quivering with excitement, expansion, and evolution, and preparing to experience writing for pleasure.

Prompt for October 20: Death is inevitable and inescapable (even when being fully awake and alive, death and creation are occurring on a cellular level). Sometimes we do our best to halt transition. We hold onto things that keep us in limbo because we fear the change it will bring. We leave affairs or dreams half open and half closed, which steals our energy and zaps our power. It’s better to let things go completely or breathe life into them to bring them to a conclusion.

Write about unfinished business you have.  Is it time you buried it or resurrected it?