Eternity is in love with the productions of time. William Blake

Archive for March, 2011

On Love, Kahlil Gibran

I am not an anxious person, but in the wake of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, and the news that a large earthquake is likely to hit California in the next couple of weeks, I couldn’t sleep.  Fear captured my imagination, fear of loved ones being injured or killed, fear of being in a different place from Kale’a when the quake happened, fear fear fear.  Eventually I fell asleep, and upon waking this morning thought it good to review Gibran’s treatise on love:

Then said Almitra, Speak to us of Love.

And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them.  And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.  Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto  himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of  your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

34 and 2 days, Reading Marion Woodman.

Life becomes exponentially more beautiful, and exacts a terrible toll of tenderness on my heart, my womb, my flesh. This modern world–we turn away from this depth of beauty.  It seems to require more feeling than we have the resources for–and perhaps what is called for is to develop these capacities, to burnish the cup and carve the lute.  This feminine face of God, Her shining face calls to us, the siren song to die into a new way of being, of living in the fiercely alive body, unabashed and carved out by the sacred sensuality of the world.

Marion Woodman, from Bone: Dying into Life

November 24, 1993

Without the love, would I bother?  Without Ross [husband], would I care?  More and more, I feel the initiation–the letting go of something that is finished in order to move into new life.  How to let go?  How to be sure at the unconscious level that I am letting go?  . . . I know I am dealing with the Great Mother in her death aspect.  In the past she could hypnotize me, blind me to my unconscious death wish in bingeing and starving.  Now again.  I have to turn her face around and feel myself lokoing into the eyes of the loving Mother.  How to be sure I am moving from the negative face of the archetype to the positive?  That has to happen, but it is hard to recognize the move when the dark face is so locked, so fierce, and so fiercely locked i the unconscious.

I have carried this dark road too long.  I am delivered of a very dark, dead baby.  If I cannot get hold of the positive side of the archetypal dimension of this, I think I will die. And that dimension has to do with the emergence of the Virgin bride at a new height and new depth on the spiral.  Very aware now that the spiral–the movement of the Virgin Gypsy of my initiatory dream–is a double helix.  As above, so below.

Please, God, let me live the Spiritual Warrior, fighting for the new order.  Dear Sophia, let your radiance release me into Virgin/Crone.  Masculine and feminine together, we may make the transition.

Of Joy and Sorrow, Kahlil Gibran

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and  your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Welcome 34!

Dear 34,

We have some big plans, you and I.  I give up, I give in, I say yes to my life!   The black and white outlines of my dreams are filling out with color, with smells and textures, with interesting, co-creative possibilities.  I receive!  I allow!  I let it in and step up to another level of love and responsibility.

Here are some things on my mind and in my field:

The energy of the Marys, as embodiments of the Sacred Feminine, is something we all need in this global process of wholing/healing ourselves:

Mary, Patty Griffin

The Ballad of Mary Magdalene, Richard Shindell

Women in the Congo and Women for Women International:

Please consider sponsoring a woman.  If it is too much to do by yourself, do it collectively!  Do you have a women’s or men’s group, a church group or any other circle?  Pool your resources and help another human being regain her dignity and life.

The work of Claire Zammit and Katherine Woodward-Thomas has been catalyzing unprecedented transformation in my life over the past 4 months:

Feminine Power:

Women on the Edge of Evolution:

“God’s will is not that we become a certain type of person, but that we become the person we were born to become.  Not like anybody else, but like the imprint of who we were born to be, that only we can be.  And if we’re not that person, nobody else on earth can be.”                                                                             August Gold

“It is the entelechy of the acorn to grow into the oak tree.  The entelechy of a caterpillar to grow into a butterfly.  And yes, every single person is born with the entelechy of greatness.”                                                                Jean Houston

Blessings on us all, and may we all remember that the goodness of the world comes through our loving actions towards each other.



Dear 33,

Dear 33,

Thanks for the great year. After being blown off course and struggling to know my center again, finding my course, learning to source my life in the capable and loving adult woman that I am, and not the wounded parts, is a better blessing than I could have known to ask for.

This was your theme song:

Light A Fire
burn Up All You Know
you’ve Had
so Much Time Just To
let Things Go
now You’re
burning Letters Out
in The Snow
in Your Backyard

years Go Rolling
you’re Thirty Three
it’s Time
for The Cross
or The Bodhi Tree
but You’d
like To Cry When You
skin Your Knee
man’s It’s Hard

and It’s The Same Old Friends On New Years Eve
the Same Snow Falls On The Same Old Leaves
and There’s The Same Old Joy And The Same Old Hurt
same Old Corduroy Shirt

old Storm Windows,
the Broke-Tail Squirrel
and The
grocery Lists And The
skateboard Girls
and Your
rusty Brain Cells Give You A Twirl

oh No

kitchen Radio,
coffee’s On
oh You’d
like A Month Just To Lean Up On
but This
open Road Wants To
get You Gone
off You Go

and It’s The Same Old Jar Of Car Keys By The Door
the Same Old Scuffed Up Floor
the Same Old Thirst For More Until The Put You In The Dirt

it’s The Same Old Nights Alone
the Same Old “baby When You Coming Home?”
to Feel The Same Old Joy, Oh The Same Old Hurt
same Old Corduroy Shirt
same Old Corduroy Shirt




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