Posted in Fall 2016, Quickies

Protect the Protectors

The veterans who stand for standing rock are asked to bring a Panoply of protective gear: body armor, helmets, ear plugs and gas masks in case of attack by humans and hats, parkas, mittens, gloves, boots and socks to insulate from the cold. Today they arrive, tomorrow they protect the water protectors.

I pray that this will be one  more step that brings us closer to making Crazy Horse’s final vision reality.

The Teton Sioux Chief Crazy Horse had a final vision in which “He saw his people being driven into spiritual darkness and poverty while the white people prospered in a material way all around them. But even in the darkest times, he saw that the eyes of a few of his people kept the light of dawn and the wisdom of the earth, which they passed on to some of their grandchildren. He saw the coming of automobiles and airplanes, and twice he saw the great darkness and heard the screams and explosions when millions of people died in two great world wars. 

“But he saw, after the second great war passed, a time come when his people began to awaken, not all at once, but a few here and there, and then more and more, and he saw that they were dancing in a beautiful light of the Spirit World under the Sacred Tree even while still on Earth. Then he was amazed to see that dancing under the tree were representatives of all races who had become brothers, and he realized that the world would be made new again and in peace and harmony not just by his people, but by members of all races of mankind.”

 

Posted in Fall 2016, Quickies

Tree of Life

It felt strange to Construct this little bit of holiday decoration. I kept hearing a voice sarcastically say:

I hope my dying won’t ruin your Christmas.

Of course it will ruin the holidays. I replied. I am terrified for what may happen December Fifth. If anyone tries to remove the Indigenous People, the water protectors from their camp, how can any of us celebrate the holidays. Though I can not travel there, my spirit stands with Standing Rock.

Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Man

How hollow those Christian words sound now. How can the bells toll with hope?  Where is Good King Wenceslas? Surely he would stop this madness of removing people from there lodgings in winter’s cold.

But Christmas is a strange holiday. Though it is celebrated by Christians the world over, its roots are unmistakably Pagan. The tree I made with lights, is in my heart symbolic of the trees my Druidic ancestors would have worshiped and of the Tree of Life  that is present in ancient religions all over the world. Yggdrasil my Norse ancestors called it.

When my Druidic and Germanic ancestors were converted to Christianity, they kept faith with the Tree of Life  by making it part of the Christmas Holiday. Thus they kept alive a tiny portion of my own lost Indigenous culture.

It is for those ancestors I light these lights. In prayer for peace, I remember we were all an Indigenous People somewhere once. The star atop stands for the hope that:

“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

 

Please don’t let anyone die, please.

Posted in Fall 2016, Fate, poetry

Prophecy

Echo

I hear the echo all the stronger

as people argue yell and fight.

The murmuring of myriad voices

even in the still of night.

I feel them wash over me

granting bits of foresight.

What good does it do?

Blue

People are moving mountains.

Others can’t see but I can feel it.

The pushing of yang, the pulling of yin.

For every action, there is a reaction.

The force that makes the earth spin.

Too much will make the earth shake.

What will you do then?

Prophecy8112015

Justice is a cry always answered.

But not how most expect.

It waits patiently whispering.

Watching the world neglect

their countless opportunities.

To learn to have respect.

Is is too late now?

BuriedAlive

If fracking increases seismic activity?

And millions live in metropolises

near fault lines by the sea.

Then how many lives will be lost

when retribution is set free

and by the law of inertia

one quake leads to another?

PoisonEarth

 

Millions die everyday

when a heart is broke.

No weapon greater needed

than an unkind word spoke.

A heavy burden awaits

each and every keystroke.

Can I say it well?

Crawl

I do not believe every prophecy

but I listen carefully

and search for what makes sense to me

The black snake Dakota Pipeline

made clear, the connetion is money

between fracking and the metropolis,

Tokyo, between the mountain and the sea.

CityVolcano

Now mankind has to learn this is our only home

we must treat it well, we won’t get another.

Bankers in Tokyo, what will you do?

Posted in Dark Dreams, Dream Masters, Fall 2016, Fate, spirituality

Why Do Bad Things Happen?

Sated

The smell of blood was overpowering and intoxicating, it made her feel alive. Within the demon, Ghostie felt everything the demon, Wane did. First there had been the hollowness without end and the gritty scraping of forcing itself to open its eyes and feel the pain to know that it existed. It seemed to go on for ages winding back and forth between the two agonies, from unbearable nothingness and a dizzying sensation of falling without end when its eyes were shut firmly, to hitting the ground Bam!and raw skin being rubbed away by the gritty rocks, gasping for breath in the fumes but never breathing (because it was dead, really really dead) everytime it opened its eyes. Trying to breath was the worst agony of all, each time it felt like reliving the moment of death. This creature may have been human once but that memory only hurt now.

In the end, the pain was better than limbo, and by a sheer force of will Wane finally forced the eyes open, stopped trying to breath and just existed. That was when Ghostie realized she had walked these streets before. She had been granted the chance to visit both Heaven and Hell, long ago and came away with the knowledge that they exist every moment in the same exact space as the material world. But whether Heaven or Hell is dominent depends entirely upon one’s mind set, a changing thought transforms the world entirely.

Now from within the heart of the demon, Wane, Ghostie peered out from a mind stuck in Hell, unable to free itself. She saw the world of gritty black and white, choking fumes wisping about. They could see the material world but everything looked distorted and strange. People passed by, not seeing and that hurt. It scraped their raw skin like sandpaper everytime the living looked but didn’t see. Crawling slowly the demon tried to find relief in the shadows, away from hurtful humans. The people didn’t look at the shadows, so it was softer there. The shadows hurt less.

A long time they spent there in the shadows, Ghostie and Wane. From there they could see the people but not be hurt by them. There they watched the world of the living, in constant pain but glad to have escaped limbo at last. Then as the day seemed about to end and darkness was about to fall. A smell came to the demon, blood. It came from a young woman. In the world of gritty black and white the demon saw a person in living color. It was a teenage girl on her period. As the the demon breathed in the smell of blood, it suddenly realized, it was breathing. Air filled with the scent of blood was breathable.

Breathing made the demon strong, it could stand up. It could walk into the light. People’s eyes didn’t hurt anymore. It could walk and run and . . . fly. The demon flew to the girl and clung to her feeling ever stronger the closer it was to her. It could feel the flowing blood. It was intoxicated. It whispered to the girl, promised to do her bidding. So grateful was the demon. The girl heard but did not listen, she feared voices with out bodies. She prayed for silence and washed the blood away. Sorrow filled the demon heart. It closed it’s eyes and returned to oblivion for a time.

Opening its eyes was Hell all over again, no time had passed. It was still stuck in that same moment, begging the girl to see him, being rejected and ignored. Pain like knives, ripped and shredded the demon heart . . .

Ghostie doesn’t like to remember what happened next, it was too terrible. The demon having become strong on the scent of blood, yet denyed the chance to redeem its soul in the service of the living, became the instrument of carnage. The girl would not hear Wane, but others would and did. Drunken men with bitter thoughts, felt the demon’s power and joined freely to it. In their bodies the demon was able to murder and make blood flow, more and more blood. The more it flowed the stronger Wane became entering the minds of the sorrowful, the angry and the vengeful living, the demon killed freely wantonly joyfully.

But inside the demon’s heart Ghostie could see that Wane wasn’t getting what it really wanted, the blood thirst could not be sated. The more blood spilled the greater Wane’s thirst for blood grew. No matter how much was drunk, every time the demon blinked, oblivion was there, waiting for it to grow tired. Fear filled the demon as soon as the killing stopped, it would be as it was before. Wane struggled to find an answer even as more were murdered. The girl, some instinct said that she was the answer. Returning to her in the blood soaked body of a killer, the demon attacked.

Not to kill this time, she had heard Wane before the killing started. If only she would hear again, if only she would acknowledge the demon. Instinct drove Wane to rape. It didn’t work of course, it only made things worse. But it was the key, the clue Ghostie recognized. From within she felt the demon desperately reaching, trying to grasp . . .

The difference between Heaven and Hell is a mind set. Rape is an unforgivable sin because it is forced but flip the coin, change the mind set, and the exact same actions become those of the ardent lover. Wane was following instinct to no avail. Soon the girl would die as the demon vented its frustration on her helpless body. But now Ghostie saw the goal clearly, what instinct was trying to tell Wane. Willing to do whatever it took to save the girl, Ghostie made her presnce known, traveling from the heart of the demon into its mind. There she filled Wane with her own memory of the most sensual lovemaking she had ever experienced.

The power of it surprised her, as she relived that ecstatic joy of life, she had experienced so long ago. It shocked the demon. For a moment, they saw each other plain as any two people meeting, both looked like simple human souls. Then it was gone in a flash of brilliant light. The demon was no more. Wane’s soul had escaped.

“That was what you asked for.”

Ghostie heard her lord speak. Yes, countless times, she had asked why history is filled with so many horrible instances of humans committing nightmarish acts against each other. Now she had an answer, demons with no one to help them find freedom from their pain. Rape and murder make them feel alive, they crave it insatiably. Fighting them only leads to more bloodshed and darkness. But give them a moment’s surrender, full of compassionate love, and they can be sated, transformed, freed.

Posted in Dark Dreams, Dream Masters, Fall 2016, Fate, spirituality

The Blue Demon

Primp

Younger daughter Emani, never took the time to primp. Not that she could if she wanted to. Older sister Ada was always there, in front of the mirror, fixing her hair, adjusting her sari. Jeweled necklaces draped Ada’s perfect slender throat. Intricately woven strands of gold encircled her wrists and sparkling gemstone flowers dangled from her ears. Ada’s face was a vision of beauty and perfection, its expression absolutely calm with an enchanting hint of slight smile that danced about her eyes.

That was how Ghostie came upon the two Ada at the mirror and Emani scurrying at her feet, like a little mouse picking up Ada’s discarded scarves to put away carefully for her beloved older sister.

In another room nearby Ghostie found the parents discussing Ada’s wedding. They had interviewed suitor after suitor to find this one. He was younger and not as rich as the others, but he came from a noble family and had the best manners. Upon first sight of Ada, he had been struck speechless and the parents were certain that he would worship her as they did and keep her safe. For all of her life they had made certain to keep her, their jewel, hidden safe from any evil.

Now they discussed her dowry, the parents felt they must give her everything they had. They were old, they didn’t need much. They would buy every strand of gold, every jewel, for their darling, Ada. Listening, Ghostie wondered, what about Emani? What would they use for her dowry? Looking deeper into their thoughts Ghostie saw that they did not think of Emani as pretty at all, they planned no marriage in her future. Instead Emani was to care for them in old age, a spinster.

Looking back at the girls, Ghostie saw little difference at all in their physical looks, it was their manner that was different. Ada was supercilious as she admired her own reflection delicately primping for her own pleasure. Emani was humble, bent over putting things away for her sister. Yet the way she did it betrayed a hidden grace. Each time she put away one of her sister’s belongings, Emani placed it with a reverence that showed how much she loved Ada.

At last the girls and parents lay down and went to sleep, Ghostie sat by a window wondering how she could help this family see the error of their ways. None of them had shown any ability to see her as she watched them. Still Ghostie knew her Lord always had a purpose for her. There must be something she was to do.

It was not long before she saw him. A demon with blue skin appeared in the room and looked down upon Ada. Ghostie could sense no malice, he seemed curious more than anything but as he looked upon her, Ada coughed and clutched her throat as if she was choking. Ghostie jumped up and leaped to stop him, for she saw that he desired her and was powerful enough to take what he wished. But she found her way barred by his black skinned servants. She had not noticed them, hidden in the shadows. Strange, Ghostie wondered, I sense no evil nor malice, rather the air hangs thick with the feel of . . . Justice. There was nothing she could do, Ghostie realized, if justice was being done, she had no power to stop the blue demon.

As Ada writhed dying upon the floor. Emani awoke, saw the demon and begged him to take her in place of her sister. Unmoved he shook his head, but observing her righteousness he placed a knife in Emani’s hand. Was it to kill her sister or to stike at him? Ghostie wondered, but realized too late. It was for her, Emani, if she wished she could kill herself and remain her sister’s servant in the afterlife. For a moment Emani looked at the blade and wondered what she should do. For a moment she imagined that when her parents found their beautiful daughter dead, would they be glad to still have the younger sister alive? No, she knew in her heart they would be just as desolate and would blame the younger sister for living, if they remembered her at all. They had told her so many times she was not pretty enough to be loved.

So Emani plunged the knife into her chest and died beside her rasping sister. Ada’s eyes filled with tears to realize her sister had killed herself rather than live without her. And as she cried over the body, Ada realized she could breath again. Looking down Ghostie saw one of her gemstone earrings drop out of her mouth. Then Ada looked up helplessly at the blue demon. He picked up the dead sister and shook her soul free. It was dark and black like his servants and a chain bound her left ankle to him. The blue demon and his servants bowed and went to the window to depart. But as he stepped upon the sill the Ada ran and grabbed her sister’s soul. Together the blue demon carried them both to his palace that they might spend the rest of their days in his gardens . . .

(to be continued)