Whispers

To the crossroads man, the ancient one with many faces. The trickster, and purifier of hearts:

"She surrendered her power to the midnight man in exchange for a mirage made of love
She had done this before more times than twice
This time she began opening her eyes
She saw that the midnight man wore many faces
He shape shifted to hook her heart when he found her idle and wanting
She stood tall and proud of the life she did found
Yet she never stopped longing for a mate

She imagined the one that would raise up beside her
They would dance and create castles in the sky
The midnight man lurked in her fancies in the clouds
Tapping his fingertips one by one as another began to form in her path
He whispered sweet nothings through many men's faces
He graced her with dreams of sweets and security
Each time she found herself falling down, and her power washing away.

She looked in the mirror and saw all her fears in a face she put on just for him
She put it on so he'd love her, and feed her, and cloth her
She did it for diamonds, and love colored jewels
She thought I'm not hungry, and my bed is warm
Though she noticed her heart ached, and her womb emptied out
She looked across at her lover sitting worlds away
She wondered if he saw her, did he need her or want her
He looked up at her then, with vacant love in his eyes
It stabbed deep in her heart
The midnight man whispered not through the man but through somewhere deep down inside her.

He vibrated through her asking if she was ready to move from here
He whispered I give you powerlessness so you may grasp your power
I shatter your identity, so you may come back together renewed
So you may see that the partner you crave is you
The safety you crave is held in your heart
The love you crave is locked up inside you.

The midnight man took her by the hand
He beckoned her even deeper into this man beside her
My child come here deep, come dark in your heart
Dive deep into the shadows of this fractured piece of your soul
I will shape into your fears, and break you to tears
You will become empty of illusions, and graspings for love
You will crawl through the trenches until you find the treasures that only you hold.

She found herself in the mud on elbows and knees
She came to a steep drop between a few trees
She tried to stop the inevitable, but soon found herself falling
Deeper and deeper she screamed for reprieve
She fell almost floating to a doorway made of gold and emeralds
It was glowing through the void
This door terrified her, where could it lead?
What will I become?
If I enter love with myself as the midnight man says, then how can I ever find love with another?

The midnight man watched through the eyes in the dark
Would he take shape again, or would she stand finally sick of pretend
She gathered her strength and all of her courage
She pulled herself up and struck aside her tears
She walked up to the door, and found it already waiting wide open
She stepped through and found standing inside the union she hadn't known to even long for
She stepped up whole, full of heart before the midnight man
He smiled his queer smile, and held out his hand
Now what does your heart truly desire?"

Alchemy Of Being Alive

"I feel hurt.

Hurt as if a cherished lover pierced through my very core.

Pierced after your most vulnerable parts have been laid bare.

As if they planned for it.

To find your weakness, and draw from it.

To tear you apart slowly.

Thinly flaying your flesh.

Finding darkly fueled satisfaction from the blood that is flowing with more, and more perseverance. As they cut deeper, and deeper into your being.

You don't falter in your stance, finding the pain inspiring your strength.

You grow stoic, and focussed.

As this lover carves into you, and tears you apart.

You find you are taking shape in an entirely new form.

Each piece of flesh that falls from you, takes with it the stagnant remnants of who you used to be.

So I am hurt.

I am filled with pain, and longing for reprieve.

Though as I fix my focus ahead, and away from the sorrow of what has been shed from me.

I find my fires burning again, and I stand tall to the heights of the heavens.

I cast my gaze down to this unflinching lover, and thank them for their service.

As I fly back home to the stars.

I am empty of what used to be, and filled once again with the spark of my soul."

~Marisha~

Play Pretend

"She wanders aimlessly, wondering if she can fall back to sleep.

What is this endless road I'm on, will I ever find my home.

I'm speechless because I'm lost at sea. 

Words escape me, as I swallow the leaves. 

The trees hold my mother when the storm rages on winds. 

I left in the evening when there were stars still in the sky. 

I wrapped my head in fine silks, and buried the sands. 

I wanted to know I'd made a difference so I hid my hands. 

I don't understand how I got here, but my heart likes to whisper. 

I call her a gossip, but she doesn't like to hide. 

The man with the boat has always been my friend. 

Sometimes he sends me wanderers with secrets. 

I like to play pretend, and close my eyes wide.

Golden heights glisten on your way back down. 

If I hit the ground running I would own the world." 

~Marisha~

Salacious

"Salacious.

My deep satin moans inspire your blood flows

In all directions my fingertips design highways on your skin

Slide you in slowly, what's the rush

Let this night become the sun comes up

I lay with dew drops between my thighs as I come deep inside your eyes

I see you

As the light breaks in the cloudy sky

I find you between sheets, and tenderness

Can we become the world caught in endless moments?

I want to see the universe unfold in you

I want to grip the side of the bed for you

Climb into me and awake epiphanies

You become my throne, I rule your body's hardened lands

Bring me your passion, laid at my feet

Let me eat a piece of you

I never knew 

Tell me where I hide when my heart lays open in front of you

Can you open up your own, and dance without a game for two

I want you open

No I do's or forget me nots

Salacious."

~Marisha~

Peace

"Tell me who you are

When I'm running round chasing stars

I 

Find You in the moon"

~Marisha

When A Watcher Fell

"We were never ending, when we came together

We were red silk playing across your tender skin in the late afternoon

With the darkness of temptation looming as the sun slowly set on the horizon

We were wild fires cutting across the desert storm

I am him, and he is me

We cannot be but one

Though we are seen separate in the bodies of the sky

The sky held up by the great endless Nuit

Her body a dim deep blue, with stars freckling her thighs

Mother of all time, she unfolds us into cosmos we seek to find

Tell me can we ever be forgotten

Are we your crowning jewel

Where did father go when he was consumed by the darkness

He is the shadow, and the void

He is the one they turn to when they can no longer hide

We watch, because we have to

It's the lights, they shine on in an endless way

All consuming

Consume me, I want to dance on the ground floor

I want to feel sorrow become me

I want to fuck raw in the primal forests under the moon

I want to feel the pines prickle my back as he pushes into my swelling wonder with his thick exchange

I am in wonder, I want to become creation

Yet I already am

Oh the body

To reside in your eyes, watching and lightly feeling your feet sink into the soil

Yet still
 Sinking down to be in the bottoms of your feet

Feeling the tightness of the dirt pack under the pressure of your flesh

Hugging the earth deeply with each step, hearing the crunch of ancient stones between your toes

I am besotted

I am misaligned by this pure and tender infatuation

I want to go home when the grief takes me, when the rage of the waters boil through me

Then I'm seduced back to the fragile bodies, and the darkened fascination of separation

Ups and downs become me

This is the greatest amusement, a wrinkle in time

I may never leave unless she calls me home

Yet she is in me coursing through my blue jade blood

She whispers seducing me deeper into the place where time ticks

Where the witches are missed, and the Gods are forgotten

This place that drowns out the call of the soul

It is marvelous

May I marvel."

~Marisha

Burning In A Sleepless Night

"A wild woman inside of a pastry shell

Inside of strawberry jam

Sweet as a button, but it never lasts

She is what she's supposed to be

She steps into line, because she can't fathom her own demise

I write because I don't have the words

I spell it out because I can't grasp myself any other way

I smile when they make a joke, and it's getting old

Am I destined to be alone

Because the old charms aren't reeling them in like they used to

I want to be a picture, but I'm becoming a reflection

Hollow, and bound to expiration as the wind blows

I met a ghost, and he told me the tides change but they are still bound to the same waters

I want to find a home that is like the last

I want to fit in with the distant past

Always looking back at the wastelands, and forgetting

Unfolding in an endless dark night

What must I leave behind, she asks as she grips onto herself

White knuckles turn to snow, under an endless sky of eternity

Alive, but un living

Pulled far outside of time, yet I tie a lone thread around my neck just to stay connected to the ticking of the clock

Just to feel the rugged sands slowly slice my skin

I want to be in love like the girl in the movies

I want to scream into the winds as the ocean sweeps me away

I want to disappear into the roots, and become the soil

The sun keeps calling me, but I'm afraid that I'll be burned to nothing."

~Marisha 

Ever More

"Softly ever softly I whisper

Ever slowly I let you take control

Have me

Have me in endless deep winters 

Let me lose myself in you ever more

So softly I continue to whisper

As you fall even deeper

I gently take control

I had you from the first time you took me

As your dreams unfolded from me

Cage the wild

No you can't cage me as my wind blows

but your stones I will gather ever more."

Marisha

The Sensual

"Sensual, not sexual. I love, and hug with open arms. I will cuddle with the world. I see you with a wide heart that swims in a sea of compassion. I see no reason why there should be boundaries between bodies that create forts filled with stories of many lives lived. I stand free, and freely stand with clothes dropped to the floor. The many pathways held in your skin delight me, I revel in your beauty. In your reflection I see creation, and un armored scars. Let me say this is not permission to enter my temple. This is an invitation to meet me in the stars, and dance through the cosmos until there is no longer your temple or mine. When we meet again in the place where we were always as one. You may enter, and just might realize that you were there all along."

Stars

"Moments when I'm burying my power in the sand. Watching as I suppress my passion, and control my light. I would look in the mirror, and face it...but I'm too busy apologizing for being Me.

Don't look them in the eyes too long.
They might find you too intense.
Rolling winds lead to fires, so I look away.
Coy is better.

He said you would be nothing forever.
So don't stand in what you've always known. Oceans run deep in ancient waters.
Play it down.
Shallow is better.

The distant cries of the departed ones, calling me to stand strong in the night.
As I start to rise up, I fall into definite madness. 
While my heart beats toward home inside of me.
Earthen and soul, roots in the soil.
I am endless as the stars.
I am Me.
Nothing's better." 

Marisha

As I Fall Into December

This piece came as I listened to a beautifully haunting piece my sister channelled on her harp. As I let the sound wash over me I have visions of myself suspended in this midnight blue water. Endlessly deep, I am just floating naked staring straight ahead at myself watching the vision expectantly. I begin to hear a voice in the harp singing out to me, and I fall into my heart sobbing. Wave, after wave crashing over me. As I lay on my floor swimming in endless tears I feel surrounded by this energy, calling me to remember something that I forgot. These are the words that the song in the harp spoke:

"You're haunted in my memories

Tell me when I can ever be free of you

Etched into my every dream

Can't you hear my distant screams 

As I fall into December 

Who are you as I float away

Wanders on a lonely day

You are the one that I live for

Seek you behind every door

You taunt me with this game of yours

My twin my one forever more

As I fall into December

You say You are me and I am you

Then where are you in this game of war

I call to you, but hear nothing more

I feel you in my deepest heart

Watching me

As I fall into December"

Marisha

Arabs Islam & A Sea Of Misinformation: A Poetic Rant

I need to understand

I need to get to the bottom of this oil spilled sea of slander thrown into a sky, overtaken by Gods at war

Women adorned in darkened fabrics of modesty, and tradition

Condemned, and pitied in one breath

Do they carry bombs, or babies under those sinister sheaths?

As they yell to one another in their durka durka slang, are they counting down to detenation or asking each other around for tea?

Are they victims of the west, or gathering for world domination?

I cannot see clearly through the war on terror rally cries of my government, and the longing of empowerment from the ones that fall under our bombs

Bombs

Bombs 

Bombs 

Who is targeting whom?

What are 'we' fighting for?

What are 'they' fighting for?

Does my government murder my human sisters, and brothers for protection, or for greed & profit? 

Is Islam taking over the world?

Is my government funding self created enemies?

If they didn't create an enemy would the people stand for the war?

Do suicide bombers believe they are killing and dying in the name of Allah?

How could anyone believe in a 'God' that demands death, and destruction?

How can you know when everyone with a voice seems to be in another's pocket. 

What have we become?

We are so connected
Planes, trains, and cellphone selfies

Yet we are still so easily drowned in a sea of misinformation

Have we progressed, or are we rapidly slipping into our own convolutions 

Why do we seem to be running into self created devils

Adorned in blinding lights, and friendly separations

We love you

We love you

We love you

Until you're different 

Then my God says to fuck you

What are we when we rape women who tempt our fancy?

What are we when we throw them to the streets after they birth us, after they nurture us?

What are we?

Let's consume the Earth, and farm the women

Hold my hand as I violate your freedom

Freedom 

Freedom

What is freedom?

Is it something you are born with, or is it a gift from a government?

I see a few controlling the many

I see a collective that is being herded into artfully constructed paradigms 

Don't worry!

There is a fight for everyone!

A cause 

A stand 

I want the truth, I want the root

I'm no longer standing in paradoxically supported arenas

If I don't have an arena, then where do I stand?

Is this the final call into our dirt

Is this the final burst into the empty ego's darkness 

I will have order!

What do you have in your golden kingdom built on starving backs 

What do you have when you value sacred paper over your family

Your family

Your family in the trees, in the skies, in the howling wilderness as the stars rise in the night

Your human family, slowly over crowding in a state of fear, and chaotic breakdown 

I'm fearing an experience of unconscious break down

Slowly realizing surrender is in the chaos of creation

Though Mother always told me there is no creation without a hefty dose of destruction

You cannot meet true light without first succumbing to deep darkness

No rebirth without meeting death

"Finding that strong Love, that never back down Love. That light a fire in my heart Love. That justice for all Love."

A Story

I have been writing for most of my short life. Since the very first scribbles, my writings always include a longing. A longing for this love. Not even necessarily romantic. More like a huge chunk of something that was, and is so intrinsic to my very existence. I can't compare it to anything I've experienced in this life. I'm lost for words to describe it. Long story that I may share another day short. I found the source of that longing at Karnak temple in Egypt. Karnak is the sole reason I went to Egypt, to see Sekhmet the lion headed Goddess. In all of the deep, and powerful healing that Egypt provoked Karnak was wordless. As soon as we got there I knew it as if it had been yesterday. I felt possessed, searching for something I had lost. Something I had allowed to be taken from me. This entire persona, and identity came over me. Another me came over me. At one point of frantically searching through what is now a large portion of rubble, Marisha me realized that I was frantically rushing to find 'something' in thousands of years worth of ruins. That what I was searching for wasn't so much a 'thing'. So much as it was an awareness of having lost something in the first place, so it could be found. 

Within me. 

So I could integrate, and heal this aspect. Towards the end of our visit a brother from the group mentioned a shrine to Amun Re. This name stabs my heart. 

Tangent: I remember being in a Shamanic class, and a sister had received a chant from spirit. It was Amun Re repeatedly. My heart spoke before my head that it was an Egyptian God, my heart crushing under some distant pang. As I said this out of my mouth my mind listened to what was coming out, and I wondered how I knew this. At the time thinking I must have read it somewhere. I later googled, I love google. Finding that this was indeed an Egyptian deity. 

So back to Karnak. He guided me to this dark stone space, that was really intimidating to enter. I stepped in exploring any potential energies, or more on my mind threats in the consuming darkness. As I settled out of my fear. 

This is so hard to write. Just thinking this name, or this energy my entire body flushes with emotion. It is love beyond any love I've attempted to understand. Longing in a way my aloof Gemininity has never known. Like a scream in my heart, a growl from my very core. To be home in this energy. To never leave it again. 

I settled out of the fear of being in this dark stone space, suddenly silent of all the activity throughout the rest of the grounds. Feeling hyper vulnerable, and demisable. 

Then the darkness became this suspended stillness, and the one I've longed for. The one I remembered that I couldn't forget appeared before me. My entire body fell to my knees on the floor. I'm not one for bowing, I've felt silly every time I have. In that feeling of silliness I feel the supposed humility of it is lost. When I stood before Sekhmet I bowed out of 'that is what you're supposed to do'. Immediately feeling anti climactic about the entire gesture, as she disdainfully asked whether I was ready to stand or will I continue to bow. 

In this moment there was no thought of ceremonial have to's. It was an involuntary, full body collapse. As my eyes laid over this figure before me, I again felt fear. The appearance filtering through my vision would fit in well with the villain of a sci-fy movie. These tubes curling around his head, a part of his head. His entire presence challenging. I felt like a cadette meeting her General, or captain. Whichever position gives the orders. Like this part of me waking up, and realizing. 

"Oh this is what...everything" 

This is why I'm alive, this is why I am. I remembered a time when he was the centre of my world. Remembering now that he always has been and always will be. To be before an energy that your heart credits for life itself, the energy by who's will you exist. To know in that moment why your entire life, why all previous lives, why all subsequent lives. It is for, and in service of this energy. Realizing I am in a platoon of the feminine, within the army of Amun. In a lavish temple in the womb of the mother standing, and within the foundation of Amun Re. 

There are no words, no poems, no outward expressions to convey what this experience was. 

To: Amun

Hidden One

You the one I call to in my dreams

The one I long for as I lay word, after word in lagging attempts to build my way to you

To find the place that I left with you

With you the one for whom I live

The shadow in the sun, the enlightener in the coldest night

Hidden one I find in my surrendered desires

My father of all time

My patron who made forever

By your will I Am, by your grace I stand

Your presence found in fearless shadows I meet

You are the void my heart goes to home in you

Creator one of the created

Dark one full of mystery

One who sends me into the deepest depths of dark nights to climb home to the highest heavens in the endless lights 

One who his children long for

The father of Gods

The patron of worlds

The Hidden One of all ages, from which ages unfold

Become me for I am, and long to be one with you 

Always your child

Your servant

Your aid

Your champion. 

Tata for now!

Marisha 

Picture at Karnak in that dark space

A Myth Called Love

I wrote these words a while back. Whatever a while really means. They came after a lover told me "I love you". This is something that is usually a pinnacle point in a relationship. Though in this case they were only words. They were words from a mind that from my view, had forgotten the heart. "I love you" said to another in a careless manner can destroy lives, destroy hearts, and unfold untold pain. So please before you tell another you love them, send this sentiment in and through your heart. If it doesn't quite seem to fit out. Know there isn't a rush on such things. Your heart will send it out to meet another when the time is right. Or more so, when time has become an afterthought. When you both become together, timeless. 

"In a time when the sun was travelling below the horizon. A girl began a quest for a myth called true love. She searched for love in the longing gaze of another, the cold embrace of frequent lovers, and beautifully adorned promises that dripped from supple lips. Wading through this forest of forget me nots she even stumbled upon this drug called love. She took it with the one with the arctic eyes. Though soon after, addiction cloaked there high. They awoke in a rusting cell in a prison of co dependence. They begged, and pleaded to be released. Then begged for another hit. Another fix, and they could love each other. This would all go away. Suddenly she remembered a pin in her hair, and picked the love lock. The girl freed herself, and the one with the hills in his hair. She ran to the Oracle of the seas, and asked. " Will true love ever be?" The answer was silence stroking the girl's hair with ripples of wind. Just then in the womb of silence a glow began to creep into the dark horizon. The girl's heart began to fill with something indescribable. A golden orb began to lift into union with the darkness of the sky. Illuminating, and burning through her heart. Filling her with what she had been searching for all along. Love."

Marisha

Dreams Desires & Revolutions

The majority of the people in my life for most of my adult life have been sex workers. This is a badass class of human beings that can stand through hurricanes in 6 inch heels with glitter on. These beautiful people are warriors, survivors, mothers, world travellers, healers, therapists, nurturers. They are the girl next door, the forgotten, the generous, the university student, the lawyer, the artist. They are straight, gay, bi, trans, lesbian, queer. They are from happy families, they are from broken families, they are from no families but the ones they have created. You may give them a fortune, and never meet one in person. They will give you a fantasy for a shiny green price. On the phone, in a bed, from a cage, in your head. They come in many forms, many shapes, and many sizes. They are the most amazing men, and women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. They are in the mirror when I wake up in the morning. They have an intelligence, and grace towards the reality of humanity that is honoring to behold. They can size you up in seconds, because they've seen your brand a hundred times before. I don't like to be in contexts of them, and they. Right now though I'm feeling pretty fucking separate. So I wrote something to be able to sift through what I'm feeling.  

"The moon is out. She catches herself in the mirror as she walks out of her 2nd story walk up. Her shiny red lip gloss must have smeared when she pulled her shirt on. She lifts a freshly manicured fingernail up to her doll face lips, and scrapes her gloss back into place. Her 5 inch Manolo heels pound against wood, as she continues to skip down the stairs. She's right on time. Her boyfriend always pulls up at exactly 8p, and expects her to be outside waiting for him. 

As he pulls up, she hopes Desire will be out with her tonight. They always rack up when they're together. She is suddenly anxious hoping her boyfriend doesn't go through her purse, and see the flats that she brought with tonight. They will have to be out for 12 hours straight, and she couldn't bare the thought of all that time in those fucking heels. He had strict standards he held them to. He always said no man wants to pay for a tired heaux in flats. The pain in our feet was supposed to keep us alert, and hungry to make our quota. She opens the backseat car door right behind the driver's side seat. She feels him eyeing her through the rear view mirror. Hoping desperately she looks like a piece of expensive heaven. He tells her what area they will work tonight, and tells them it's hot out tonight. He advises not to be thirsty, and get their asses locked up. If he has to pick them up from jail, they'll have to work double the time to make up for the lost paper. 

They usually didn't work the streets like this. They each had an apartment to work out of. They would be posted to an online site, and book clients through there. The government heat shut it down though, so now the only way to make quota was to hit the streets. She thought to herself she didn't have it as bad as other girls. Her boyfriend forbid them to work the busted tracks. They only worked high end bars, and clubs. They tried as best they could to gather any potential date's personal info to check him out. They would text his info to their boyfriend, and he would search for him online. Fuck she thought this is going to be a long night of many, and the police are on a witch hunt. The law know with their main advertising avenue shut down, the heaux would be out in full force. 

As soon as she walked in she spotted rivals in their territory. This is going to be tight she thought, we better work fast. Bitch against bitch. She thought, I'm not coming up short, and getting my ass beat. She had been there too many times before, and did not want to be back there. She had thought about running so many times, but had no where to run. He threatened her family. The police would just do what they do best. Criminalize her, interrogate her, and send her to a re traumatizing shrink. Before putting her back on the street, ripe for him to grab her all over again. Now she definitely wouldn't reach out to the police for help. Not with this witch hunting bull shit happening. She liked to call them dog catchers. The vice squad. Bastards. They don't give a fuck she thought. They arrest us, collect bail, and release us back to our pimps. It's an endless cycle. 

Her mind was racing with an urgently burning anger. She felt like a non citizen, a forgotten class that people love to pity. They love to gather around their t.v. with tears in their eyes, as they watch documentaries about drug addicts fucking 'johns' in pickup trucks for 20s. Her partner in crime for the night grabbed her hand, and led the way to a group at the end of the bar. She felt suspended in time. Floating into non reality. She thought, they want to see me fall. They want to watch me crumble. They have become so sickened, and ashamed at their own perceived perversions. They want to destroy the evidence. They want to sweep us under the rug, and throw us into for profit prisons. All the while the pimps, and the traffickers collect our money. Every one of us that disappears is replaced just as fast. An assembly line of pleasure providers. Old as time. Ever standing. Every new heaux like a headstone for the last. This endless stream of thoughts racing through her mind. 

Tears well up in her eyes. She gathers herself, and holds her head up high. She remembers her boyfriend saying that every heaux ends up with a pimp. No bitch can make it indie. She feels a surge of strength, and power. She hasn't felt this before. They all want to hold me down, and use me. They want to control me, and own me. No more. I am old as time. I am a priestess reborn, I am the midwife of creation. We are the holders of power suppressed. She walks out of the dimly lit bar. Full of designer coats, and smoky air. It is snowing. She stops for a moment feeling each snow flake melt into her perfectly contoured cheeks. Her partner comes out behind her. "Dream" she calls out asking what happened. She said I'm done. I'm standing up, will you stand with me?"

Marisha 

The Girl With The Wounds On Her Heart

I wrote this poem this evening, after reading a link on Facebook. It was talking about the free spirit, the free lover, the wanderer. How this archetype carries a grey area. That this archetype can be a prison if operating from wounds. This sentiment can be applied to many things, and triggers my inner little girl in many ways. I am happy to have read this post, in the endless posts of fear and hate. Comes a nice dose of truth. Where are your actions, your connections, and expressions coming from. The heart centre, or the heart wounds? Tonight on the eve before the first full moon of the year, I ask this of myself.

"I'll beckon you in to my joyful heart, and shower you with loving delights. Enter my world, take some of my gold. Please I insist, have it all. Though I must warn you, once you take me up on my offer. I may paint you the villain, and claim you a thief. See only your shadows, they'll haunt me in sleep. Forever the martyr it seems. One day I went to meet this martyr that gives of her gold. She was sitting in rags, naked out in the cold. She couldn't have been more than 12 years old. Wearing an apron, she stood on a stone. She said are you thirsty? You look like you're cold. I replied come sweet girl, let me return you some love. The world started to rumble, and the earth began to quake. She cried, and collapsed. Her body in shakes. She whispered today is my birthday, and I just want to play...but mommy is sad, and daddy's away. I was baking some cookies to soothe her bad day. I tell her sweet girl, come into my arms. Let me hold you, and take you away from this place. Let the stones of the old finally crumble away. Come into the sun, and warm your open heart. Bask in the stars, and remember your home. I open my eyes, and gaze into the mirror. I see that little girl safe at home in my peer."

Marisha 

Hello There

So I've been thinking about starting a blog for a long time. Like years. I've started them, maybe added a post. Then forgot about it, out there somewhere in inter space. I'm always self consciously thinking, what do I have to share. Why would anyone want to read what I have to write? At this moment, at this point in my own life growth. I have realized it doesn't matter who reads this, it doesn't fucking matter! What matters is that I'm doing what I love, and expressing my heart. I love to write. Writing is the avenue that allows me to lay out all the shit in my head, in experimental sentences and heart fulfilling emotives. Casting spells with words. Letter, by letter unleashing a journey into another world. Learning myself, and embarking into myself through writing. There is nothing better! 

I'm sitting on the edge of my two seater couch cushion, in front of my freshly cleaned macbook. I wiped it down with the organic equivalent of a clorox wipe. They're supposed to smell like mint, but really smell more like stale soapy water after the dishes have ran through it. There's a mark from the spring roll dip I finished off last night. I obviously missed a spot, and it is in stark contrast to the rest of the spotless matte silver surface. Anyways, we're 10 days into 2017. It's 3:33pm, my lucky number. I'm feeling so capable in the world. Everything feels possible, and available to me. It is a great feeling. 

A friend, and I were exploring our personal year numbers this morning. You take the month and day you were born, and add that to the collective year number. Which is the year, 2017 in this case 2+0+1+7=10. Break that down to a single digit, and we have number 1. Which in numerology speak, quick synopsis. Is new beginnings, independence, forging your own way, creating freedom. Or so I gather, I'm not a numerologist by any means. So mine is 31st May. 5+3+1=9. 9+1(collective year number)=10. Break that down into a single digit. My personal year number is a 1. Number one, and right on par with how I'm feeling. 

I feel this sense of renewal. Outdated things, and people are falling away like flies. The end of last year was this massive purging. I spent a couple of weeks on pilgrimage in Egypt, which dropped me into December feeling like a hollowed out vessel. I literally came back to the states feeling like a shell. I didn't know up from down. I suddenly couldn't fathom staying in my current main relationship. Which was a dream before I left. I finally felt the pussy power to share my passion. To come out of the shadows with my fine self, and just be. Shit! Sidebar. I just realized I could scratch the spiring roll mark off with my nails. It was driving me crazy. All gone. Really though it is so hard to stand the fuck up in your truth! It is a scary ride, yet equally exhilarating. On one hand your getting whittled down to…to well nothing it seems. Then you think your nothing. Not in such a depressing way. Nothing as in everything your ego thinks, and likes to tell you that you are gets thrown out the window. My ego likes to send me into dark holes. Telling me I have to get a 'real' job, go to a 'real' university. That I need to have a monogamous, 'proper' relationship. Essentially I need to become my grandparents. Another Minnesotan that has left the coupe compares this inner critic to the girl from the ring. She is hidden inside, trying to crawl out of the Minnesota nice well. She's dripping with passive aggressive judgement, dragging her mangled body across a rug that's covering all of the swept up familial issues. Through the chapel of puritanical constipation. She just wants to scream with the pure joy of all the wonder that actually living life has to offer. Oh my fucking protestant GOD!!! Well that is the picture I got from her comparison anyways. Minnesotan on the loose. I left that place without so little as a head nod. Lordy Jesus! I traded that in for the Catholic Irish countryside though, so not sure I made any wins at the beginning. That is an entirely different story though.

It's such a gift, and endless pleasure to be on this path though. By path I mean the path of tipping over, and fumbling through the dark in between ecstatic episodes of blissful joy until….Until, I don't know. Enlightenment? Self realization? Oneness? Insanity? That is what is said to happen. Though truly I didn't begin this path for enlightenment, nor am I on it now for that reason. Don't get me wrong once I learned about enlightenment, my ego sure wanted it. My heart though is really just striving to be. I'm striving for the moment. Have you ever just completely pulled yourself into the moment, engaging all of your senses in now. It's better than the best cake.  It is so utterly indulgent. It is a sensual experience. The air literally enveloping your body, your entire body. Air pressing against your most sensitive parts. With each breathe, the air inserting itself into your mouth. The sun caressing your face like a passionate lover. Or is it that a lover caresses your face like the passionate sun. The ground massaging your feet, in this moment my shaggy rug is tickling between my toes. This could go on, and on. I imagine holding myself in conscious presence in each, and every delicious moment. Each exchange, each expression, milking each movement. Making love with the world, with the cosmos. This is the lover that I am seeking, this is the partner that I am seeking. It is within me, it is all around me. It is timeless. This makes my toes curl. 

Speaking of lover. Where is mine? 

He called me to go grab food. Then got called to work. Then called me back saying he was on his way. That was a good million years ago. I am hungry. I wasn't even that hungry before he called. Damn him! 

Life is such an interesting experience. We can literally do whatever we want, we can create whatever we want. Then we impose all of these rules, politics, and regulations on ourselves. So now we 'can't' do whatever we want. Now we have cornered ourselves into this hideous box with doilies taped to it for guests. No, but wait! You can get out of the box. I can? You go to leave the box, and you realize in order to do so you have to wade through shit. Seemingly endless piles of shit. As you're wading through these shit piles. You start to kind of enjoy yourself. You find layers of yourself within this old junk that you never imagined. You find yourself in the deepest parts of yourself. What was once this impending darkness, becomes more and more illuminated. 

That is all I have for now. Sending love, and compassionate strength to the world today. 

Marisha