. "How was it that no one had ever told her that it was not love itself, but its treacherous gatekeepers which made the greatest demands on your courage: the panic of acknowledging it; the terror of declaring it; the fear of being rebuffed? Why had no one told her that love's twin was not hate but cowardice?"
My husband and best friend, John, shared with me an image through his description, of a shining, golden figure, standing tall and sturdy, arm stretched out front holding a ring of keys. This figure is ourselves, offering up the keys to our own freedoms and self-realizations. This and many symbolic conversations, ideas and talks that crossed over this past week, inspired this work.
There was this moment when it was apparent that the plot was
Completely lost in the egoist wounds of the psyche
Running from spot to spot learning, believing, wanting to believe.
Waking up from a nightmare or dream with rose tinted spectacles over our eyes
Who do we trust now?
We can't trust anyone to know, to feel, to show what's real to us.
So search and search for answers until you are blind from it all.
And there is no more trust and you are sick from it all.
Nothing makes sense. There are too many falsities.
Trust in one's Self?
Who approved such nonsense?
Who would allow such chaos as empowerment of the Self?
Trust in our intuition?
Forgiving? Yourself, others? No?!
Surely you jest.
So we got lost in falling in love with artists instead of art
And we forgot that conduits keep energy connected and flowing.
We depended on everyone else to keep waking us up to our realities.
And we became lost once more.
There was still no trust in Self.
Without trust in Self there was trust in No One.
While trusting No One, we blame, we accuse, we lie in fear and with accusations.
Because we do not trust ourselves. We can't be trusted
Remember them telling us not to trust our hearts?
That the demons lived in there, manipulating us?
But the strings of our hearts, they pull us to and fro,
Begging us to listen to their song.
Our heart's voice, so stifled and quiet compared that of the parasite.
The parasite of voices from the time of our arrival.
Fed on programmed ideas or falsities we're to tell ourselves
Not good enough, too much, too soon, too fast too far
Too bright, too dull too much.
Not enough, not enough, not enough.
Where did that come from?
Where did this noise appear first?
Not from the Self.
Self knows purity and fulfillment,
Understands the ideas of the parasite and how it works with attempts to starve it often
Especially when we do not seem able to.
Those cycles, how they come.
Trapping us in their offerings of freedom
Until we unlock the door for ourselves with it's keys.
Picture yourself, the gatekeeper of of yourself.
Holding onto the massive keyring of your own freedom.
That is what this is.
And this is where it all breaks down.
Suddenly we want to be alone.
To clear the clutter.
We want to stop flinging accusations
We want to realize ourselves
We want to trust in the Self once and for all.
We want to trust ourselves.
For the first time we listen to the Self
This is when the cycles nip upon their own heels.
This is when the parasites, starving, becomes viscous,
Challenging, pushing, bashing.
Did you think eons of self-loathing would disappear so quickly?
Because this is in the memory of your blood's source.
Remembering not just your time but all of time and that confuses
Integration of it all.
Stop fighting the cycles.
Listen to your heart.
Starve the parasite.
Allow your SELF to be whole again.
Take your time and be gentle with yourself.
You are a creature of Creation
Being born each moment of realization.
So long as you do not hide this fact,
All will be well as it comes and it goes.
Copyright Cari-Lee Miller 2016
It is the simplest, most intricate events in this life that cultivate slowly to make the greatest things happen. These small weavings through time are a treasures we often overlook. Walk each moment in a way that leaves you whole and not wanting. Not always the way it goes but surely the way most rewarding, most memorable and most pleasing when hindsight sits at your feet, beckoning you to understand the lesson.
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©2010 Cari-Lee Miller & Recipe for Alchemy.
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Your medicine is in the woods.
Your pharmacy is in your kitchen.