Looks like someone else was thinking the same thing I was thinking when I wrote my last post, The White Spider. It was about feeling my feelings y’all. And with that, they did dissolve…
Check out this nice little article presented on the MindBodyGreen website. Love that site!
Why Resisting Your Emotions Actually Intensifies Them
Gon’ head. Feel it! For good, bad, or worse. Just feel it. You’ll feel better. I promise.
Trying to do things DIFFERENTLY this time. When dealing with feelings of loss sadness frustration etc. I am trying to now sit with my feelings instead of experiencing them once removed by:
Instead….I chose to deal. I chose to feel my feelings and not run away from them. I chose to sit with them and just FEEL them.
It didn’t feel good, but it felt REAL. I even decided not to think or analyze why I always feel a sadness when a certain situation occurs. I decided to just FEEL.
I felt my feelings until I fell asleep. There was such a void created until I just didn’t feel much anymore. I feel stronger this way. And in this way I feel more…alive. A rustling from the furnace or whatever it’s called woke me up. I found a little white spider in my bed, then a tiny white feather; a little reminder that everything is going to be alright. A little sadness and pain never hurt anyone. I’m feelin’ that.
I looked up animal totems and read that white spiders are associated with good omens and more:
exerpt taken from this site:
Spider Symbolism
The Spider is an ancient symbol of mystery, power and growth.
We take our first lesson from the ancient symbol of the Spider by contemplating its web.
Just as the Spider weaves a web, so too must we weave our own lives. The Spider symbol meaning here serves as a reminder that our choices construct our lives. When the Spider appears to us, it is a message to be mindful of the choices we are making – and ask ourselves:
- How are my choices affecting my life?
- How can my choices improve my life?
- How are my choices affecting others in my life?
Not only do Spiders and their webs draw attention to our life choices, they also give us an overview of how we can manipulate our thinking in order to construct the life we wish to live.
Spiders do this by calling our awareness to the amazing construction of their webs. Fully functional, practical, and ingenious in design – Spider webs serve as homes, food storage, egg incubators – seemingly limitless in their functionality.
When we consider this ingenious diversity, we can also consider the web-like construct of our own lives.How are we designing the most effective life?
When we see our decisions, choices and actions as far-reaching, effective tools in life – we can see how we weave a web that can either serve us or enslave us. The Spider symbol meaning beckons us to be mindful of our behaviors – be smart about the life we weave for ourselves.
How telling. How succinct. How relevant to the situation…I’ll never doubt the signs, because this one so resonated with me. Also, is there anything peculiar about someone who said they saw a tiny white spider and a white feather at the same time…on a forum…back in 2008? Wow. What does a feather mean to me? For me, it means a GOOD OMEN….I guess I’m constantly anxious because just about every sign to me means “erthang gon’ be alright baby…”
When you find feathers upon your path it could be taken to mean that you are on a higher spiritual path (whether you accept it or not), and it may be a sign of encouragement as you philosophically travel on this path.
Finding feathers on your path is also symbolic of having a lighter outlook on life or a particular situation. When we see feathers in our midst it is considered a message that we need to lighten up, not take things too seriously, and try to find the joy in our situation. (Found here.)
(At this point I had to stop because the word count was exactly 666. Now this is gettin’ too weird.)
I’m going to wrap it up now…Happy feeling and totem hunting! Hopefully the things in your life have meaning for you, as much as for me.
Feeling hungry, sad, depleted. will pour into a blog but just wanted to give yall update. hate when i feel like this altho its needed. im serious abt clearing ev month with period now. i just don’t know why its trying to knock ME out. last night i was talking to ****** (named changed to protect the womb choice extroaordinaire), the man who ive generally had the best sex with ever, and he started talking about parenting and “when you have kids…” and a huge wave of sadness overtook me…
That was about to be my Facebook status, just now, but I wanted to pour some that that sacred red energy into this blog here.
Ever cried when you saw that first little peek of blood of the month? Lately, for that last 2 or 3 periods, I’ve cried for the things I’ve lost over the 28 days, or the energy of what I’m clearing now from my life, which is represented by the blood that is leaving my body. I don’t know. I know I’m getting a little closer to Goddesshood every day, with each moon cycle, but I still feel pain.
I’m not pregnant.
Nor did I want to be. Not most of me. If I were it would be from an ex who was damn near 20 years older than me and who clearly has emotional and alcohol issues. I would have sprinted to the abortion clinic. Or would I?
When I see my blood now, I simultaneously celebrate and mourn. I’m losing yet another opportunity to do what is instinctively an urge for a lot of women. I’m imagining that little microscopic egg being soaked into a pad or wiped out of me, dropping in pool of chlorinated water, and being flushed down the toilet. Discarded with no honor, no regard to the life that could have been.
I know I’m not ready to have a child of my own but every time I go to work and see those kids I feel so maternal, that I can’t even follow through on disciplinary procedures. I’m tough on them, but then I get soft, always wanting to give those fresh new talented souls another chance to make me proud.
So, I’m sacrificing my opportunity to simply follow my gut instincts and I’m waiting until the right situation presents itself.
I have to add this in, sorry this post is a little disjointed, I’m deciding what I should reveal and what I shouldn’t. I’m getting more private these days, another sacrifice I’m making to honor the mystery of these feelings, some things are better yet left unsaid (better buy the book.)
I heard there were 3 steps to make any man love you. I said to myself, “Oh that’s easy.”
1. Know who you are.
2. Love who you are.
3. Be who you are.
Simple right? No, well, at least not for me. The blood mysteries have taught me a lot. Now that I honor yet another cycle of my life, my time of bleeding (I’ve honored the cycle of trial and error in other posts), I’m learning to embody the feminine in a way that flows with nature. Yet another thing that not another human soul can take away from me. It’s empowerment through connection with my blood.
No matter how much I may love someone, I will never love them more than I love who I truly am. I’ve bled because I’ve sacrificed who I am at times, in order to please another. And the beauty of it is, it’s a process- growing out of that. I’m not done knowing me, 
because the “trials and tribs” of everyday life constantly try to pull you away from that. Once you have tasted the purity of getting a glimpse of who you are you will NEVER want to let that go.
The blood sacrifice of every month signifies that you are letting something go in order to make room for some new quality, trait, person place or thing, an energy, an essence if you will to take it’s place. Out with the old, in with the better. And in order to be better, sometimes we have to give something up. Well, give it up already. Goddesshood is what I’m after. The funny thing is, I may never reach that place, but the journey is so delicious…I don’t even know if I care about the destination anymore.
*NOTE: In my case, the abnormally heavy menstrual bleeding is caused by fibroids which were aggravated immensely by the ingestion of false hormones in the form of birth control pills, which I took as a result of denying my own desires for my life (sacrificing my ideals in order to fit into another’s ideals). Now, this is what I deal with. Ironically,when I went to the doctor for help, more false hormones in the form of an IUD (intrauterine device), was recommended in order to manage the symptoms of the fibroids. I declined the offer to become sterilized like a dog and instead I am healing through natural methods (although I know it is possible to get pregnant after removing it, that’s how I felt staring at the device and the eager doctors). Since taking a daily herbal supplement to regulate hormones, the pain of this condition had reduced dramatically. I switched to a new supplement from the same company that isn’t taken everyday, only when pain is drawing near, and the pain has returned because it is only taken during PMS, and if you don’t catch it in time, it may take a while to work, if at all. The pain and heavy bleeding has caused me to take days off of school and work. I’m going to order some more of the daily supplement immediately. Just a few thoughts on this, I know the picture can be disturbing to some.
I think it’s time to get a little more…”personal.” I know you may be thinking “well, you’ve told us about your sex partners, your bleeding vagina, your innermost spiritual revelations…how much more personal can you get?” Well…it’s time to have a blast from the past. How can you understand where someone is now without having a glimpse into who they used to be?
Read the shirt. Cute, huh?
Actually, what I find to be true is: I was more the person I truly feel I was meant to be at 7 years old than when I was 13. Or 15. Or 27! (And I just turned 28 a few months ago!) I feel that the woman I’ve grown into came from this seed, that 7 year old girl who loved to take pictures, ask questions, and REBEL.
Same smile I had at 7.
I feel young again. Because after years of conditioning I have finally begun to come back to who I truly am. I’ve shed the religion. I’ve shed the need to please others. I’ve shed the need to FIT IN! And I’m daring to be different baby…or…simply…just me. It’s a song that just never gets old.
Haha, also affectionately known as “my publisher.” I’ve NEVER done this on my blog…just posted a random photo. But I think it’s important to do new things, in a new year, with a new look to the blog and a new perspective on life. Looking back I think it’s time I did an ode to the man who discovered I had actual journalistic talent. Thank you Milton, it’s been a year since you discovered me and I hope to be working with you for many years to come. See some of my work on his fabulous investigative online news platform (where I cover entertainment, social, and non-profit happenings) http://www.blackstarnews.com by clicking on the photo. Here’s to another year of covering art and other things going on in this devil of a city of ours. I’m commited (touchy word for me) to share of more of those pieces here, on Helese TALKS!
Likwuid commanding the stage.
Apollo Music Café’s The New Class concert featured Likwuid along with fresh young underground talent served up in a classy speak-easy setting. It has a VIP environment with a black backdrop, similar to a small black box theatre. Some of my favorite performers for the night were: Cuzimdope, which were the skate boarding-attired duo that reminded me of the backpacker crowd that would pepper the audience back in the day when Likwuid and I would perform at the Bowery Poetry Club. One of the performers from the group donned an afro and looked like a young MJ. They performed three fun and highly energetic new cuts, “The Cable,” “We Get High,” and “Cold Cut Gyoza.” On stage they look like two kids on the playroom floor beating sticks on pots and pans, creating music for the first time. Their music harkened back to simplicity of the bass, kick and snare of early hip hop. The Cranberry Show was another duo that brought out the carefree youngster in all of us, having us bounce around the floor during their Indian influenced “Slumdog Millionaire Bollywood Flow.” This stream of consciousness came from Milwaukee from all places, where apparently black men sound like white boys when they talk. A real mind opener it was. That’s the not the only taste of internationality we got that night, Rich P was a lone rapper who was very nicely dressed in Denim from Paris. It was radio ready music that would fit right in with the harder production of say, someone like Rick Ross’ music. I liked it because it was current. The true throwback of the night was Justine Sky. Her lithe 17 year old frame was clothed a basketball player embossed t-shirt and yellow biker shorts with tall socks and sneakers. Her pressed and curled hair swung about as she goofily introduced herself. But when the music came on, she reminded me of Brandy, music that I grew up on. I was immediately proud. She had that naivety about her that made you want to protect her but the potential that made you want to sell her out to the highest bidder because you know you’d make a killing off of this double threat. (She wasn’t much of a dancer, but who is these days?) I don’t remember ever feeling as vivrant as her though; blending the perfect mix of innocence and sexuality may be something reserved for younger souls, but I’ve got an old one. She explodes with attitude when singing and her voice is solid enough. She takes it as serious as a heart attack but when the music is off she’s back to being a teen girl, reminding us to keep at least a bit of ourselves young forever.
The part of the night I was most excited for because it was why I had come was Likwuid commanding the stage. With her androgynous swag and trademark afro I screamed until my voice cracked for fellow South Carolinian. The first song she performed, “Queendom Anthem,” spoke of the struggle for women to regain their original power. It was fitting, because Likwuid strikes me as a feminist even while having a boyish flavor. Her conscious flow is sick, the beat was hard, and her lyrics are spiritual…and relatable. On the second song she performed with more heart than I had ever seen, and why wouldn’t she… “Give the Drummer Some” was her sliver of the story of her journey to being committed to being a music artist. As she stood up on the shakey table with one leg, I could imagine the house manager cringing, but all I could do was smile inside and squint my eyes in disbelief. My mouth was agape. I was proud more than anything else, because Likwuid has been in this game for a while, and I’ve seen from the outside looking in her many hustles to be free of the chains of the “man.” It worked. She now flourishes as a DJ and lyricist in New York City, one of the toughest cities to make it in.
There was one more group that started out with a doo-wop acapella type of vibe. As soon as I heard it I liked it. It’s worth mentioning because of it’s Sweet Home Alabama/rock n roll tinge along with a healthy heaping spoonful of hip hop. As a bonus, the girl on the guitar looked like me and I wanted to kiss her– I’m in love with myself like that.
As the cherry on top, Amanda Seale was the hilarious host for the concert, or should I say “class.” She spoke of preserving hip hop and talking about it intellectually in order to raise it to the level of Jazz, where it could be studied in Universities and such. It truly is a national treasure that we should take more seriously as a possible catalyst for change rather than just a way to make money and an excuse to make a fool of ourselves. But we should still have fun. Yes, I think Amanda Seale is right about that PSA she made that night. I’ve got my pen and pad ready to take notes. I hope I see someone from the New Class there. They’re sure to bring a new level of understanding to hip hop to the world once they graduate.
Grounded in Mother Nature
I went out into the forest today. It’s a place I often end up when I’m lucid dreaming. Today, I went there in real life. After Hurricane Sandy, I wanted to see the damage that was done, if any. I was really oblivious to the storm. I was cozy in my room, only knowing that the MTA was down, so I wouldn’t be going to work. (My sister and her wife too. Major cause for celebration in this house.)
I expressed these sentiments on Facebook, and most people were concerned for the practical issues: will you get paid while you’re out? My response “Not in money, but in happiness and orgasms.”
The storm brought deep personal shifts for me. I became orgasmic with someone that I wasn’t able to cross that threshold with in the past. Something truly opened up. They say Oya brings winds of change.
To give thanks for being spared anything but more rest, more time to myself, and deep relaxation and all the other blessings the storm brought, I decided to go to the park and commune with Nature. When I got there I found some trees lying about the ground. They looked like they were resting. As you read in my last post centering around the wonders of Nature, “Nature is the New “Church”, trees talk to me. And this is what they had to say this time:
This part of the tree was laid to rest
That tree in the distance was completely supine.
“We are one with the events of Nature. We are not upset or phased when a tree is broken or uprooted because of the storm. What we say to humans is Use Us! There is still good wood here. We understand that we are here as resource to humans that you have taken for granted, but this storm is not a bad thing. Things change. Nature is change. God is change.”
Now, maybe you’ll think about that the next time you decided to count the death toll instead of your blessings. If even the trees who have been snapped off their base or maybe even ripped from the ground are not phased…why should you be?
I thank God that I was spared. For every storm, even since Hurricane Hugo I was spared. I slept through it, curled up like a baby at 6 years old on the living room couch. Maybe that’s why I feel that there’s nothing better than falling asleep on the couch, to this day. That little house built from brick and that little girl inside was kept safe from the wind and rain. It brought my family closer, and I was thankful even then. So, I don’t too much get caught up in the monsoons of life for others. I have work to do here, and although I’m compassionate…I know there’s a reason for every season, every tragedy, every disaster. For my family, even though I am the biggest cryer, I am also the one to take a detached emotional approach to death when someone transitions…since even a pre-teen, saying, “Don’t cry Mom, there is no death…they’re in a better place.”
I don’t take anyone else’s suffering lightly but I also know what to take in and what to block out. That’s why I never watch the news. To each his own. That flooding in the streets became my own when my orgasm flooded out of me, this is how I make the storm personal for me…I won’t take on more hardship than was given to me, not now. I’m OK and believe that everything will BE OK. This is what it means to have peace in the midst of the storm. Thank you, Sandy.
Ull find ur way… I promise
This was my latest facebook post before writing this article. I don’t know why or for what reason, but for some reason the tears just came. I thought I was happy. I guess I was wrong.
I knew the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s would make me sentimental, especially after people had said it was the story of my life, and that I should read the book. Several signs had pointed to me needing to have watched this movie for a while. Namely, a good friend mentioned it, and then a woman came into the salon wanting the signature French roll. Moon River, the theme song of the movie, has taken me on ride since the first time I ever heard Sarah Vaughan’s version on a jazz cd.
A quarter of the way into the movie, I was in tears. They would stop…and then I was convulsing…muffling my screams wanting to let it out, but afraid someone would hear me and come and ask me what’s wrong. That’s just the thing…I don’t know.
But I think it has something to do with “birthing pains.” I’m becoming a new me, and I’m startled at how swiftly and seamlessly it’s all happening.
My morals and values just aren’t what they used to be.
I always thought I was a good person, but really I’m not, I’m just selfish. And I do what feels good at the time; I do what benefits me and feels good to me.
But at least I’m admitting it, which is more than I can say for the rest of you.
That friend, that same friend who mentioned the movie, I slept with him. He has been in a relationship for 8 years. They even have a baby. And afterwards, we both sat there trying to figure out why we didn’t feel a lick of guilt.
I kissed a married woman and one day, I want to make love to her. I realized I don’t give a damn about whether or not she’s lying to her husband, its me who I care about. Already she has been an incredibly good influence on my life…I think she has that affect on people.
I’ve got to live my life for me, you see.
The scared child inside wonders about my life.
Lol, I remember one time I was unknowingly with a man who had separated from the mother of his child. For 5 months I loved this man, and probably after that too. When I found out he was lying to me though and was planning to buy a house while him and I were still living together, I sent her pictures of him and I kissing to their new apartment (to which he told me the address, or maybe he left some mail out?) and the keys to the apartment him and I shared. I was 20 years old and 7 years later I saw him in the train station. After all we had been through, he said he always remembered me, looked me up on facebook often, and he learned so much from me. He said he especially loved the way I cooked, and his favorite dish…one time I put lemon juice, herbs, and honey on fries.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’ve bared my soul to many…and what is it worth? I cried not because I’m afraid to be who I am and do what I want…but because I’m afraid that I really don’t give a damn that this is the woman I’m becoming.
I was supposed to be manifesting Goddesshood. I guess I better start revolutionizing the definition of what that means for me. Everyone has their cup of tea, and I guess mine just involves public nudity and sleeping with people in “committed” relationships. What is a Goddess? I guess I should come to terms with the fact that change is good, good is God, so God is change.
And what about what others think? Maybe the true definition of freedom is simply not giving a fuck about that.
But then there’s my parents…someone said your parents must be blamed for the waywardness of a child. I wouldn’t want them to be involved in any of the ways I live my life now. They’re from a different time. They’re good church people, who believe in God and pray. They love me, and they did the best they could. I’m so sorry we don’t even believe in the same God anymore…I’m sorry that my ways would eventually disappoint them, but I don’t even think they could begin to understand.
I won’t stop…despite the tears and fears. I feel fiercely determined to defend my right to go on this journey and discover my personal liberation along the way. Now, I’m not that naïve, I’m not like Holly Golightly in this case, thinking that anyone who loves me is trying to trap me. But, I do think that when they do, it’s not really love. I had this conversation with the womb choice…love doesn’t equal ownership. When he spoke of relationships, he disagreed saying there is a sense of belonging to the other person involved. I’m sure if there was anyone I could give up my freedom for, it would be him. I woke up one day completely feeling like I wanted to devote myself to him. Why? I don’t know. It’s not like he was going to give me anything I said I wanted. But, maybe he knows better. Maybe I didn’t want the marriage and kids the way I said I so desperately did… Maybe I just ain’t the marryin’ kind.
They say if you were ready for what you wanted, you would have it. And…I don’t.
But I’m ready for discovery. Connection. Stimulation. Vulnerability…and Truth. I guess these things could be the makings of Goddesshood…
Won’t you continue on this journey with me…to wait around and see?
For the longest time, I have been able to see sex in everything I do, sexual energy that is. Some people call it “having your mind in the gutter,” but I think there is something terribly wrong when a society associates sex in general with a place that is considered the bowels of the big city. Think about that. I have long thought I was sexy and exuded or oozed sensuality. The studying of various attitudes towards sex I’ve been doing lately has confirmed it: sexuality is apart of our everyday lives and is not just when we’re having intercourse. As a newly aspiring masseuse (among other things) and a receptionist at a hair salon who occasionally does shampoos (I like to think of them as high quality professional scalp massages by a woman gifted and talented with her hands), I wasn’t surprised to feel the familiar exchange of energy that goes on between two bodies when one is helping the other to relax and feel good. I hadn’t touched a stranger in that way in years, with no re pore established prior to (even one night stands have that, and I haven’t done one of those in a while either). I’m sure I had given random massages to fellow colleagues in the hotels overseas when we were overworked from flying, but that was a few years ago, and I had pretty much tried to forget many details from that flight attendant sham of a job. (Although by it’s sheer novelty I’m sure I’ll be forced to write about it sooner or later, down the last gritty fascinating detail.)
Touching someone in this way felt right and natural and I soon remembered the power I had to make someone feel better than they did before they met me. A man came into the salon and wanted a shampoo only. I was confused and said so out loud. “Basically he just want’s a scalp massage,” a stylist told me. I was on it. I wanted the tip. I knew I could swing this and it would be more than just a monetary exchange. This was an opportunity for me to practice my juju.
I hung up his jacket and dressed him in a robe. I told him to have a seat while he tied the ties of the robe around his waist and buttoned it closed at the top. He sat down and prepared to relax. I was in charge of his experience and I felt fully confident and capable. I was serene and peaceful so that energy transferred from my body to his. I walked behind him and placed a towel around his neck. Pressing the button on the chair to make it rise, I watched as his body levitated to a more supine position. I turned on the water and when it explodes from the hose it always sounds like a static-y radio or a crackly record. The woosh of the water as it runs over my hand and I test the temperature…”Is the water ok?” I say in a soothing, syrupy tone. “Oh yes it’s peeerfect,” he replies. After his hair is thoroughly wet, I turn the water off, reach behind me, and pump the shampoo bottle two times. The creamy ecru colored liquid forms a blob in the palm of my hand and I spread it all over the man’s hair. Now that it’s completely slathered in the shampoo, that’s when I begin my massage. I vigurously scrub his scalp using my fingertips and I make sure to go in a circular motion, touching every centimeter of his skin. As I feel the tension in his scalp releasing I feel a different type of tension in my body rise. And it’s funny, I can’t really describe it, I just know when I’m hitting the right spot. The signals are not always detectable, but later I found that someone else saw him tenting from across the room. I talked to him a little bit after hearing him moan once…he tells me “Oh, that feel’s so good. I’m getting such a good vibe from this place…It’s my first time.” I peered down the length of his body while my hands seemed to move all over his scalp without me thinking about it, and I wondered how I could have missed the slight bulge in his crotch.
I rinsed his hair of all of the soapy suds and I a thought occured to me that I really love working with the water element. It must be in my chart somewhere…(the person I would usually ask about this has drifted away from me, by choice, but I digress…). I reached behind me once more and pumped the conditioner from the bottle…twice. I smoothed it all over his hair and this time I went slowly in circles, making sure, as I had done during the washing, to massage behind his ears and and the back of his head down to the top of his neck, where a ton of tension is stored. I made sure my fingertips slid all over his slippery scalp. I took my time, after all, there was no stylist with a full appointment book waiting on him, I had no one to rush me, and this was all he came for. I felt fully responsible for his relaxation, and I wanted him to get all that he was paying me for. I knew the more comfortable I made him, that he would ask for me, look for me, seek me again, give me his money, which is another exchange of energy. This was magnetism fully at work. I was devoting my talent for making people relax to this man for 10-15 minutes, and I took it very seriously.
After I rinsed him for the third and last time… I dried him off gently with the cottony warm towel, and silently pressed the button that made the chair upright again. He was telling me how relaxed he felt before his big meeting, and I felt like something of a mistress, prostitute, healer, and goddess. As I continue to delve into my femininity I’m beginning to realize there is no difference between any of them. He pressed $10 dollars into my hand and I felt like a million bucks…he asked for my name and his name was similar…he looked at me like I wasn’t real, with great appreciation. I wondered how much I could get for other types of massages. If I could make this man feel this great in such a short amount of time in front of everyone, I wonder how much more I could affect him in a private, intimate setting with candles, essential oils and meditative music?
This is the power of touch…this is the way we are having energetic exchanges with people we don’t even know. Now, the first time I had that same affect on a woman, I nearly recoiled at the thought that I had that much powerful over another creature who had the same type of magnetic power I have. I didn’t expect it, and it made me think about the Power….the power to make someone relax…it is truly something I’ll have to get used to if I’m going to be touching people skin to skin for a living. It’s something I’m considering…Wanna be my guinea pig? Hee hee hee…
I feel men who are not fully aware or cognizant of their power or sexuality may be fearful of their power to make a woman totally relax…more on that in another post about the mystery of femininity and attraction. Stay tuned in and turned on!
I waited until everyone was asleep, and things were quiet. I had been waiting over two weeks to receive instructions as to how to go about the external things I needed to do to activate an internal change. I knew that something had happened, either now or in another life, that had caused me to fail to live up to my full potential, that of a Goddess or Queen. I thought that these blockages were something outside of me, but I am slowly learning that nothing good or bad ever is. I thought that I was going to remove an unknown curse from long ago or even now, but my Spirit would reveal to me that I was wrong. Tonight, I would cast out my own demons.
Fears have been following me all my life. They showed up in my dreams and in my waking life in the form of jobs that had always frustrated me and relationships that left me said and broken instead of empowered. Only recently, maybe last year, had I really begun to tap into the Essence that is God in Me. And tonight, as I prepared for my ritual I knew that after I wouldn’t be the same.
I took lemons, sea salt, bay leaves, essential oils and eggs. I had heard of eggs being extremely absorbant, and sea salt being a powerful remover of negative or lower energies. This is why people go to bathe in the Dead Sea, there are spiritual reasons for that as well as physiological.
I blew over the water as the instructions had shown. And although aware that the eggs were fragile and could not be broken or else the ritual would have to be done again because the negative energy would be released into the water again, I had no fear of that.
Little had I been realizing, my ENTIRE life, was that if I didn’t have to fear eggs breaking while I bathed in the dark, I didn’t have to worry about whether or not my food stamps would run out, or how I was going to attract the abundance that is my birthright.
I am done with public assistance by the way. I will never again be like the women in the park when I was topfree, fighting for my own oppression. It’s beneath me now because there truly is a better way.
The eggs kept making their way towards my womb. I thought that was interesting. Soon they became like little children to me, always floating back to the womb…the place of their origin. They wanted to be near there because they hadn’t finished their journey. Sad fate for them, but then again, all is well.
I had to move gingerly and delicately like a dancer in that water, so as not to break the eggs. I felt…Divine.
I felt protective of the eggs, taking them out of the water when I had to stand up to scrub my entire body, washing away old ideas and limiting beliefs that no longer served me, I placed them gently back in the tub, and when I stepped out to take a look at myself in the mirror and wonder how I’d look figure modeling naked and covered in soap, I had to place my toe ever so lightly back in that sacred water, so as not to step on the tiny compared to me eggs. Fragile, yet so strong.
After I rinsed, I was ready to be baptized. I did as the instructions said, and spoke the special word. It didn’t feel particularly different…until I just began to cry…a little fear came to me but quickly went away…and then Spirit said to me, “You remember the last time? You will have many baptisms.” I just kept crying and said “Thank you.”
Renewed, Rejuv’ed Revitalized
I rinsed off in cool water once more just to get the salt water off of my hair and body.
I stepped out and said “It is finished.”
I really did feel light.
I wore white to bed.
Something has changed and I’ll never be the same. Then I heard a voice say “This is just the beginning. We have a lot of work to do.”
So, there it is…The Baptism.
I’ll sleep with the eggs in my room, whole, until I can leave the house without disturbing anyone to throw them away. I actually want to spend more time with them this way. They remind me of how gentle you must be with someone who is fragile, even if, especially if, they are carrying so much negative energy inside. It’s a lesson to be learned. I know I’ve been there. A thin shell can only take so much. And there are some things even John Mayer’s music can’t fix…
If you’d like to know more about the ritual, I can tell you where to go to get more info. It’s a great way to remove blockages so you can go on to live up to all you know you can be. And you don’t need the Army to do that. Be your own Savior. (Blasphemous? Only if you don’t believe that you come from God. All the separation is totally silly. I see that now.)
Love y’all.
