Perspective: It’s Everything

When I look at life as magical and miraculous, I see magic at every turn. Yet, when all I feel is despair, then I find myself disconnecting – creating the very thing I believe. How I perceive means everything; it can make me, it can break me. Truly. Sadly. Happily. You name it, I create it.

Just this past Friday I found myself in the grips of despair. After I removed the distraction of WordPress, the loneliness that I had been evading (quite creatively; thinking I was doing well by myself, nonetheless), became oppressive.

Interestingly, swimming is a powerful visualization for me when I am in physical or emotional pain. It seems that with my recent descent into the Abyss, being in a submarine offered too much protection and this time, I found myself skin diving through the River Styx, a river I have greatly dreaded conquering.


Zero: A New Birth

The whispers
in my ears roaring the things I don’t want to hear

The lost words
of how the river of Styx feels on my toes

The air
Raped from my lungs when pushed in from above

The pit of despair
What brought me here? No air: who fucking cares?

The pain consuming all
Deeply felt until the nothing permeates & penetrates

The absolute resolution
The darkness fills my heart: full dissolution

The armor
No longer needed; no thing to protect anyway (hearing echoes of “who fucking cares?”)

The lack of container
Flowing just as the river, until becoming it; everything

The movement
As I flow from here to there, every where yet no where, every thing yet no thing

Less than zero
The complete submission
Freedom rings, a return to air

A new Zero
The rebirth
Toes dipping into the River Styx, until next time when I feel lost again

Once I reemerge from this river, there is no longer a sense of loneliness. I feel complete again. In fact, my “need” for a romantic relationship is shed. In swimming through the river Styx, I shed another layer of the part of me that felt lonely; incomplete.

It can sound scary to swim through the River Styx, yet my faith that I am protected allows me to repeatedly swim when it feels I cannot breathe. While I do not view myself as a Christian, in the last 8 or so years, I have begun to see some scripture in a different light. Perspective, once again, can make things so different in my life.

The 23rd Psalm, in particular, holds great power for me. I recite it, as well as other powerful verses, Ho’Oponopono and Reiki when I find myself in any sort of jam. Tom Kenyon, co-author of The Magdalen Manuscript: The Alchemies of Horus and the Sex Magic of Isis, offers a new perspective of this Psalm. After hearing his explanation of the alterations that include the Divine Feminine, I was blown away. Throughout my work, I often refer to Psalm 23 as it helps me so frequently.

According to Kenyon, this Psalm has connections to the Hermetic system in Egypt. [if you would like to listen to his words, you will need to go to his site, click the agreement to his copyright terms, then scroll way down to the bottom and you will see two links to the 23rd Psalm to either download or listen. One is the Alchemical Decoding and the other is a voice recording, an interesting experience]

23rd Psalm
“Mantra of Protection”

The Lord is my shepherd,
     Your celestial soul protects you
I shall not want.
     when in connection with your celestial soul, you are not in lack.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures,
     life situations that are nourishing
She restoreth my soul.
     through being still & connecting with the still quiet voice within
He preparest a table in the midst of mine enemies.
     we are abundant and given what we need, in spite  inner and outer enemies; ourselves 
She anointed my head with oil,
     refers to connection with our higher centers (Ureaus) 
my cup runneth over.
     the blessings overflow
Even though I walk through the valley of the Shadows of The Death,
     the old world is dying; daily our cells also die – we live amongst both death and life
I shall fear No Evil,
     there is nothing to fear when we are connected
For Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.
     references to the Egyptian Ascension process which offer protection through ascension
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.
     when we are connected to our higher aspects, we receive grace
And I shall dwell in the house of The Lord, Forevermore.
     you are in the house of your own celestial soul
    so be it


It is my hope that after reading this, you may find a new perspective of this Psalm, so often read at funerals and associated with death. Yet, for me it offers so many keys to living.

Interesting to note that in my opening statement I refer to the magic of life. Today, after I observed an Osprey flying overhead (connections to Hermes, The Egyptian symbol of the Soul), that I was offered a bottle of water by a local church during my morning run/walk. Attached to the bottle was a scripture. It was Psalm 23:2 “He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, He leadeth me beside still waters.” I could have refused the offering, yet I heard Buddha’s teaching to receive what is offered from others. I could have also received 1 of 9 other scriptures, yet I received this one, which also reflects my journey of respite from WP as well as my swim through the River Styx.

Later in the day I was out and about, waiting for some work to be done on my Jeep. The TV in the lounge was showing the Michigan State vs Purdue game. After I sat down, laptop open, the score was tied at 23 to 23. This lasted for the better part of a minute. I wish I could make this shit up. While I wanted to sit down and work on many other pieces, I was clearly being lead to work on this piece about Psalm 23, IMHO.

Perhaps it is my belief in the magic of life that brings me these hints and messages: perspective!

Author’s note: 23 is a very powerful number for me. I was born on the 23rd of the month, my grandmother’s birthday. My BFF was born on the 23rd of January. I also love prime numbers, they represent for me the bit of beauty found in being indivisible; the asymmetry and imbalance. They are “imperfect” and I fucking love them for it.


The Song of the Sea

Gonna rise up turning mistakes into gold.

Gonna rise up and find my direction magnetically…

Rise by Eddie Vedder

It’s no wonder I must descend into the murky depths for my soul to heal.

When I feel, I feel with each and every fiber of my being; down to the core.

My passion, when I fully allow it, runs rampantly;

a fire wildly coursing through my body.


I needed the depths of the abyss to suffocate

the fire that threatened to me burn down to my subatomics.

In descending into unconsciousness, I was at a loss for words.

Words are not the void’s means of  expression;

instead feelings and images, pain & suffering.


the abyss was the wet blanket I needed,

for my passion was threatening to consume me;

deeply burning from inside out.

the water helped me to avoid over-consumption; burning up to nothing.

in ascending, my fire is more maintainable, less overwhelming.


the treasures are new sight, renewed freedom and a greater sense of peace.

while i was down, i knew it was not forever, i was loved and protected,

being told repeatedly “tomorrow this time, you will be ok”

the still quite voice reminded me, over and over, again and again.

even in the throes of my darkest pain and suffering, i new i would be reborn.


the pain, the suffering, the blindness were all springboards

to a new level of being: happiness with less pain and with greater clarity of vision.

no longer bound by my self-induced prison.


the dark night of the soul, I can now say,

has brought to me brightness in a new way.

my spring has sprung, now ready to face a new day.


i thought i needed a knight, of the darkness or the light

to save me, yet here I am shown again and again,

I am the hero in my own story.

I am the knight, both dark and light.


the daughter of a seemingly absent King Neptune

who magically bestows everything in its Divine time,

who really truly is always there for me, if I but ask nicely.


a lady of the water,

who knows how to breathe, while holding her breath.

knowing that under the water, there is life,

even when walking through the valley of the shadows of death.


the song of the sea; the right song for me

learning to live life more and more authentically.

singing with my voice fully opened,

free to be me; the song of the sea


now i see why she has called to me,

no wonder inland I could not live: I am of the Sea.

now learning to forgive my trespasses

and those who have trespassed against me.



__/|\__ Ananda & Metta


Escaping My Story

dissociative amnesia is considered a mental illness. for me, I consider it a blessing. For without dissociating sexual trauma, I would have lost my mind. For the very people who were my protectors abused me over many years at an age before I knew my full name, much less how to spell it. for over thirty years I lived in constant fear and anxiety, the source of which remained mostly blind to me. Some could see the symptoms of sexual trauma & PTSD; only those who paid attention closely though. I often hid as much as I could in self-protection; my M.O. was to be invisible as much as possible


I wanted to be anywhere,
but here.
This is not happening,
roll away,
get away.
Fight with all you’ve got: nothing.
When the body cannot escape it,
the mind does.

I see myself playing
outside in the yard.
Another sunny day.
My body left behind,
defenseless yet with
some feelings of bliss?

Learning now not
to trust my body,
bliss during this?!


Memories long forgotten,
My mind was safer
than my body.
Escape my means to
survive this hell.

This escape proved
to be effective in
times of complete
loss of control.
It happened so much,
sometimes I forgot the way home.


I spent most of my life
wishing I could not be seen.
Early budding breasts,
I wanted to hide.
Flesh that brought attention
by prying eyes.
In their gaze, I only felt
the shame.

Middle school brought
a new discovery on Halloween.
Dressed as a Beatnik,
I discovered the comfort
of wearing all black.
Practicing playing the Cello
at lunch time to avoid
the students, who drove me back.

High school brought
the black leather jacket,
the combat boots.

Listening to everyone’s woes
about their home lives;
not understanding why my
suffering was so deep.

The truth I hid so well,
I hid it from myself.
Hiding my accomplishments,
hiding my grades,
hiding behind my black armor.

So many then thought I was a lesbian,
looking back it was a kind of security.
I preferred to chase than to be chased.

College brought a return of color
to my wardrobe.  Slowly,
at first I felt so vulnerable
without all of my armor.
Broomstick skirts,
bra-less in thin white t-shirts.
Starting to feel ok in my
sexuality. But only a little;
still wearing the black leather jacket:
my protection.

I still chased the boys,
fading from view from those
who showed interest.


I could wear a mask.
I could pretend to be happy.
Beneath it all, I was
suffering, silently.
Years of counseling to
raise my self-esteem.
All alone in my suffering.

Strong feelings,
I would suppress.
And like anything pushed back,
held back for too long,
upheaval can be unleashed
with seemingly little provocation.
It was all a mystery to me.

Eventually, when sexual abuse
of my niece was suspected,
I sought the help of a hypnotherapist
to uncover the reasons why I wore
my niece’s suffering as if it were
my own, never able to disrobe it.

The jars in the sand were part
of my healing visions in the
meditations that followed
the uncovering of the abuse.

The first memory was being
abused at four. Held down on the floor,
unable to get away, overpowered,
despite not wanting this,
I felt pleasure, some bliss.
I stopped going when memories
were younger than this.

Never would I have believed, even as a PT
that there would be any pleasure found
in being held down and abused so ruthlessly.
A nerve is a nerve, once stimulated it
will send the signals to the brain it is
programmed to send. Pleasure or pain,
to the nerve it senses and sends all the same.

It was with this memory that I knew it
was true. Locked deeply in my unconscious
before I knew what I had lost…dissociation
saved my life and my sanity,
schizophrenia and severe bipolar disorder
my family’s proclivity.


Sleeping Beauty: Sexual Abuse

Mental Illness

__/|\__ Ananda & Metta




Ode to my Gemini, Peter Pan

this is a picture of my son from 3 years ago this week.

the innocence and Peter Pan feeling you get from this image is true. i miss those big brown eyes, filled with wonder and mischief (well, maybe not so much missing all of his mischief)

sad to say that with divorce his eyes are less sunny more partly cloudy. maybe it’s also aging and growing that he no longer exudes this mercurial energy. He has not lost it all, it is still very much there, just beneath a thin veneer. sometimes it can be encouraged to emerge, other times he hides, burying it well.

his name means light giving, the envy of many Star Wars fans…
his middle name means protector. A true Braveheart who even at two showed this is true. 

fluffy, soft cheeks he still has, kissable in any weather.
slowly resisting his mother’s affections,
growing now into his own.

with each passing day independence grown.
still more dependent than at the same age his sister, but equally willed strong.
who can fault him, have you met the woman from whom he was born?

His sign of Gemini is ruled by the messenger God Mercury,
whose attributes flow to those also born of Virgo:
who when in balance are ever changing, malleable,
quick-witted communicators,
with a strong sense of youth. Warning: take care!
Mercury is also a trickster; taken to light thievery.

I treasure when he chooses to shower me with his love,
going to miss the days when he no longer says,
“I love you, mama” out of (seemingly) no where,
kissing my face, reaching for and kissing my hands.
(he is going to be a true lover, as hand kissing
is not something he learned from his father,
the only man he’s seen kiss his mother).
I pray that he may only give his heart to the most deserving women.

it will be interesting to watch this young man unfold
in the coming years.
hoping that he will spare his mother too many tears…

yeah, who the fuck am I kidding, there?


__/|\__ Metta

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