Weaving Gold

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

Always Searching for Something

8b626ae2605f2feb011dd6997b7d72d4Prompt 6: Step into the role of a hierophant.  What secret knowledge and mysteries of the Universe can you share? What can you teach?

October 8, 2014: I could tell you things. I’ve always been a reader. I love learning, researching, and exploring rabbit holes. I’ve written a book that weaves tales of lessons learned. But, I can teach you no-thing. I stand and shine. I reveal who I am. Learning, is your choice, and mine.

October 28, 2015: What I think I know (perpetually subject to modification, refinement, and total upheaval): we are all searching for truth and validation. Some search through science, research, and analysis. Some explore by painting, writing, dancing, singing, or otherwise creating. Some search with their bodies, pushing them to/beyond limits, or abusing them, or forcing change. Seeking seems universal, while finding is universally elusive.

P1010704My living
     is a Great Seeking

  Small queries
  Eternal mysteries
  Mundane questions

I desire
     answers to/for all

Whisper in my eyes, ears, dreams (please)
Project pictures into my heart, mind, soul (I beg you)
Make me -- if only for a moment -- whole

In the beginning is nature, in the end is nature, so why in the middle do you make so much fuss? Nothingness to nothingness is the whole journey.
~ Osho

It is the glory of God to conceal a thing: but the glory of kings is to search out a matter.
~ Proverbs 25:2


Letting Humanness Be

On October, 1, 2014, a Fool stepped from the a cliff, and my journey through the tarot began. At embarkation, I though I was traveling a mere eighteen inches, from head to heart. I knew the distance was more daunting than it seemed, but still, it was a small adjustment, I convinced myself, from thinking to feeling; from analyzing to sensing; from rigidity to softness.

The guides I encountered, disappointed. The High Priestess handed me a scroll that was to reveal my the secret of my highest potential, but it burned in my hands before I could decipher its words. The Empress held up a mirror to show me that I’ve got this thing called life in hand, but I continue to feel inept. The Emperor reassured me, saying, “You are safe,” but left me the next day, just the same. The Hierophant demanded that I profess my secret knowledge, but I ended up announcing that I can teach others no thing.

In the second week of my journey, revelation! The cards revealed my passion for Adventure and exploring mysteries through writing, and they promised it would be easy. I crafted a contract between the Eternal part of me and the me that is typing. I secured ease, abundance, and flow in writing. I integrated, transformed, transmuted, and released, everything, over and over. I attempted to shake it all up, to create harmony, but I failed. I felt nothing. I did nothing. I waited.

I am waiting . . . some more . . . again. I am breaking the chains of society’s conditioning and opinions, and letting them rust and disintegrate. I am emerging from dark and formless roots, hoping that wings will unfurl and allow me to fly. I am discovering my own true nature and am determined to live in accordance with it.

I am waiting . . . some more . . . again. I am dreaming impossible, improbable dreams. And I am letting it be.

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am playing and believing, amidst continuing confusion.

Prompt for October 30: The World is the feeling of wholeness and happiness that comes when everything lines up perfectly, usually part through our own efforts and part as a gift from the Universe (for playing so nicely).

Write about the journey you’ve taken through the different tarot cards in this challenge. What did you discover about yourself? What days/cards were the easiest and what were the hardest?


Dreaming the Impossible Dream

My Call

To dream, the impossible dream
Embrace, the unbeatable foe
To bear, in pain and in sorrow
To run, where few dare to go

To walk, an unwalkable path
To love, in the dark from afar
To try, when my heart is too weary
To reach, the far-away star

This is my quest, to follow that star,
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To strive for the light, when lost in the darkness
To be willing to march into hell, for promise of bliss

And I know, if I’ll only be true, to this glorious quest
That my heart, will be joyous and calm, embracing what’s best

And the world will be better for this
That one woman, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with her last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

Apologies to Songwriters: JOE DARION, MITCH LEIGH

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am playing and believing, amidst continuing confusion.

Prompt for October 29: Write about the message that’s coming through for you — what’s the calling or awakening? And, you get extra bonus points if you can write it in song titles or lyrics!

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I Experience Miracles

“Show me a miracle,” I demanded, mid-stride on a nature trail in the park.

I believe highly improbable constructs and concepts and I am a perpetual skeptic. Even when I know things to be true, I want evidence. Somewhere within me lives a Magical Child tainted with hardened cynicism.

Instantaneously, I noticed the bright yellow leaves of hundreds of trees shining in the soft light of the rising sun. How’s that? A quiet voice in my head teased.

“No, no! That’ s not what I meant. Those are just leaves in autumn.”

You’re not impressed with trees, growing from the earth? You’re not dazzled, even a little bit, by their changing colors, by the quantity of leaves, that these trees have overtaken land that was occupied by a sanatorium a few years ago?

I had to admit, those golden-leaved trees were quite beautiful.

And the peaceful blue of the sky, accented with white clouds? 

A hawk cried. A smaller bird called. A squirrel scampered up the white oak. The scene really was quite impressive.

All around me, every second of every day, miracles unfold, blossom, and whither. I dismiss this magic precisely because it is so constant that it has become ordinary.

IMG_6952There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.
~ Albert Einstein

With my demands for proof, I have cast off the gifts of Innocence. No more! Henceforth, I shall notice and appreciate the miracles that abound and employ my magic to create miracles.

In the movie, The Last Samurai, Katsumoto says: “The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for one, and it would not be a wasted life.” Later, when he is dying, he notices pink blossoms falling like rain, and whispers, “Perfect. . . they are all . . . perfect.”

And so it is. I intend to remember, to notice, to see.

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am playing and believing, amidst continuing confusion.

Prompt for October 28: In The Sun child’s world, there’s a perpetual supply of energy, confidence, enthusiasm, and fun.

Write about how your world would look if you let The Sun child be in control for a day.



I’ve got nothin’ today

I desire, sovereignty.

My fear: my desire, unachievable.
That I shall, remain, forever, as I am.
Bound by agreements, cords, and contracts
devoid of the power required
to break free.

(I’ve got nothing today.)

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am crumpling, crumbling, disintegrating, and as confounded as ever.

Prompt for October 27: The Moon reminds us that darkness comes and fears, illusions and imagination run wild.  But often we have to move through them to find the right path.

Think about a path you would like to take, even if it’s just an adjustment on the path you’re already walking. Now, what are the fears stopping you from making the change? Write about them…



Write Like No One is Reading

I always did enjoy being at the head of the class, so yesterday, before the tower began to crumble, I leapt from it’s top floor. I am tumbling as I begin writing this blog. Thank you for witnessing my fall. For added fun, the Thunderbolt arrives on the day when the moon is new in Scorpio, on the day of a solar eclipse.

“At a solar eclipse, we get to see the planting of the solar seed in the New Moon’s womb, and are therefore more conscious of what the possibilities are for this cycle.  As you can see, solar eclipses create extra powerful New Moons, marking times of major endings and new beginnings to an aspect of your life…”
(CATHY PAGANO from her Wisdom of Astrology via Mystic Mama)

Yesterday, I had a rather brilliant insight:

If you don’t know how to let go, reach for something new with both hands.

I am reaching for experiencing Easy, Joyful Living, Passion, Love, Peace, and Knowing. I am planting a seed of Self-Love. I have completed the phase of life in which I aim to be an exemplary daughter/wife/mother/member of my communities, the phase in which I make my life’s work about teaching or healing others, in which I write so that someone will read and be moved by what I’ve written. I am SHEDDING (do you hear me?) the expectation that A will yield B, and, when it does not, assuming it is because I did something wrong.

Ugh. Even as I write I can see that I’m (again!) expecting a specific result from my plan. I’ll let go of my old ways. I’ll do the new things right. And I will win. Finally! I don’t even know if what I’m seeing in the world and people around me is Truth, or it I am viewing my own projections. I suspect it is the latter.

It seems that my elation of yesterday was premature. I reached for something new with both hands, but left a box of old thinking on my head, obstructing my view and cutting myself off from the world. I leapt in the dress of a beggar, pleading: Please, please. Let this jump be the one that takes me to peace, safety, and security. Oh, yes. I reached with both hands. I meant every word I typed as I wrote and posted. And . . . I’m still here.

I’m still here, with the damned box of mess scrambling my mind, but I am willing to take a quantum leap, without a bungee cord, trusting that the box will be dislodged during my fall.

Write like no one is reading,
As if every page will be burnt,
Bare your soul as if no one is watching,
Let writing be heaven on earth.

with apologies to William Purkey

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. Greatly assisted by my OSHO Zen Tarot deck. I am coming back to life, dropping *everything,* and emerging raw, soft, slimy, and as confounded as ever.

Prompt for October 23: The Tower is a reminder that from time to time something comes along to knock us off our feet and throw us on our rump. It throws life into chaos, upsets order and patterns, and leaves us feeling as if we’ve been hit by a tonne of bricks. You can see why The Tower has a bad reputation and it’s terrifying to be in the storm BUT after everything has settled, you can see that it’s a release, a blessing, and an opportunity to rebuild the tower to your specifications.

Tarot images are from my beloved, much-used OSHO Zen Tarot Deck. Click for a sample.


Emerging from Myself

As the writing challenge brings up the Hanged Man taking a break, I too am taking a break.

Some of the words that match the New Vision card (OSHO’s version of Hanged Man, sort of):

The figure on this card is being born anew, emerging from his earthbound roots and growing wings to fly into the unbounded. Now you are presented with an opportunity to see life in all its dimensions…

I am integrating realizations and shifts, dropping everything from my metaphorical pockets, and putting down burdens. I am emerging.

Inspired by Lyn Thruman‘s October Writing Challenge: Writing the Wisdom of the Soul. I am expanding, evolving, shaking in my shoes, and preparing to experience pleasure in writing.

Prompt for October 17: The Hanged Man isn’t an unhappy chap – he’s taking a break from the world and looking at things from a different angle.  He’s giving himself time and space, changing his view, and exercising patience.  He also makes sacrifices and let’s things go. 

Write about the stuff in your metaphorical pockets that’s weighing you down.  If you were suspended from the world tree like the Hanged Man, would you miss the weight or would you find liberation in having empty pockets?





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