The Goddess Within

In over three years what I've recognized is how some patterns remain the same -- the ink fading a little over time, the paper it is printed on becomes wrinkled and worn -- yet those details aside, there is movement in a direction that makes you recreate the fading ink, even daring to reprint the whole thing, starting from scratch, or perhaps being even more daring and entering into the new age of technology and upgrading your archaic ways for something more tech savvy... all of these metaphors aside, it is a strange time to return to an old blog, filled with old wounds and raw tales, when the filter feels like it has been clogged and muddled. The waters are not as transparent as they once were, which is what created the censoring in the first place. It's been over three years when I chose to abandon this blog. I didn't know that I had anything else worth saying -- even to myself -- that warranted the clicking of keys and the red squiggly line of doom telling you that word

I've always considered myself a person without regret. I think many of us want to be that person -- the present-tense living, not looking back, swimming to a shore of possibilities instead of nearly drowning in the deep end of "what ifs". I'm not that person. Or maybe I am. Sometimes. I'm a contemplative person. I like the notion of "what if", though sometimes I can let myself replay it over and over, not quite like a broken record, but nearly undesirable wallpaper I surround myself with, in constant debate if I actually like the patterns or not. I was thinking tonight about regrets. I've said I never had them. I said that everything happens for a reason. I said that everything led me to now, and I appreciate and love now... except... I tasted some of that regret tonight in a meditation. Huh... so that's what's been lingering in the back of my throat all these years? It may or may not be a regret... maybe just a wonder. That "what if

Help. I've been such a fan of "Super Soul Sunday" , watching it with my trusty journal as I let myself learn and re-learn wisdom from some amazing speakers. Recently I watched an episode where Anne Lamott was featured, talking about her new book (which I have not read), but I was so inspired by her comment about the "three essential prayers": Help, Thanks, and Wow , realizing that much of 2013 can be summarized in those three prayers. I need help. Help. Help me. That's where the beginning of 2013 took me. I took this year to be quiet, to break away from virtually everything that took me away from my family or deep healing from old stories. As 2012 was coming to an end, I was given a message that it was time for me to take a break. I didn't know what it was going to look like per se, but I knew that I needed this time to just process with my training, my healing, coming back to roots of dreams that were waiting for the cobwebs to be wiped away..

I've realized that for probably the first time in a while, if not ever, I don't know how to rewind. That's actually a good thing. I can reflect, but reflection isn't the same as rewinding. It doesn't hold the same essence of potential turmoil or self-doubt where the "what if" monster emerges her ugly head with tainted words creeping up the shoulder. It's not to say that the "what if" monster is gone, because she isn't. She's still there, but her role is taking on a more curious tone than she would have permitted before. She's been quiet during this seasonal time in the Bear Cave, as have I, and as Imbolc approaches, I feel the quickening steps of the light shining in the cave, and my eyes scrunch up from the deep sleep I've permitted myself. This retreat time within the Bear Cave has been sensational. I have uncovered sooo much about myself in this secluded time, and my awareness is quite sharp, perhaps the sharpest it's

It's been several months since I've blogged... last year's distillation of the shadow had me in deep vulnerability, listening to the urgings of my guides telling me to share and be open, but more importantly to remain open in the process of spiritual rawness. And, so I did. I remained open. I divulged. I cried. I emerged despite the urge to hide. I screamed. I distilled. The process was extraordinarily powerful, one that I don't know how to replay in words now that the moment has passed, but one that I can acutely remember as being both awesome and awful. That journey ritualistically ended in October, though I continued to feel the effects of the shadow's shadow (much like a planetary retrograde experience) well into the new year. I hibernated in theory, but had so much exposure of self that I knew my hibernation was more this blanket statement of wondering what to do next. I didn't go backwards, but I didn't move forward either. And stillness would have

Guarded -- Chad Perrone My teeth they hurt from grinding And my head will explode from holding it in I pictured myself standing over you One foot on your chest Victorious Well I'll hate this place forever more Because the world looks half of what it was And I know that everyone won't be like you But I'll still keep my hands up next to my face And I blame you For my headaches And I blame you For my mistakes And my bad ways I wake up tired from dreaming Because I fight you best when I'm sleeping Because I dreamt that I stood right over you I had both feet on your chest And I stood victorious Now I blame you For my headaches And I blame you For my mistakes And my bad ways There are days I thought I'd give up I'm just trying to get back from you what I brought I said there are days I swore I'd give up But that's not today That's not today Because I blame you For my headaches And I blame you For my mistakes And my bad way For my heartache And