Chop Wood, Carry Water, Shut Your Trap

Some rights reserved by Arno Arno

"…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well." ~Julian of Norwich

Litany Against Fear from the Bene Gesserit Rite

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total   obliteration.

I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
~Frank Herbert, Dune

What can I say about silence?

As a person dealing with codependency issues, silence is a currency I cannot make change in, withdrawal a tactic I am ill equipped to employ. I tumble words out of my mouth just to be reaching toward something...toward you, toward us, toward understanding, toward reconciliation, toward a continuation of connection, even if that connection is painful. Painful connection is, after all, still connection...right?

An Invocation

Holy is your name, holy is your work, holy are the days that return to you. Holy are the years that you uncover. Holy are the hands that are raised to you, and the weeping that is wept to you. Holy is the fire between your will and ours, in which we are refined. Holy is that which is unredeemed, covered with your patience. Holy are the souls lost in your unnaming. Holy, and shining with a great light, is every living thing, established in this world and covered with time, until your name is praised forever.

Leonard Cohen, Book of Mercy

Chomp.

Porkrind the Great

I wrote a new poem this morning, just now.  I think it's quite good.

I got the idea for it as I was walking Porky around the back of my apartment complex.  I wouldn't have been home, walking the dog and getting the idea, if I didn't have some sort of crud/flu/unpleasantness right now.  So there you go.  You never know when your muse is going to bite you on the ass.

I am now going back to my couch and my blankets.

An Ode to my Dwindling Armor

Who is this flower above me?
And what is the work of this god?
I would know myself in all my parts.
~Feri Flower Prayer, traditional, Victor Anderson


God is self and self is God and God is a person like myself.
~Victor Anderson

I'm actively working on being more open to letting people see the person I actually am, instead of just the edited, monitored mock-up I'm used to displaying.

It sucks is kicking my ass.

For Brigid

This Time

She did pass in the trees, tinkling a tickle-whisper,

And was in the flame, yes, when I've

pleaded and wished and prayed and

burned anyways.

But this time, no moaning:

just the urge, to deep and dark and drowning.

This time, my eye is to the well.

This Time by Lora Dziemiela is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.