I am whole
unto myself,
radiating
my light
with yours
independent
while one.
I am whole
unto myself,
radiating
my light
with yours
independent
while one.
Exploring pockets within the labyrinth of my mind,
where shadows dance and secrets I find.
Silent whispers echo through the hollow halls,
as I unravel mysteries within these walls.
Hidden treasures gleam with ancient glow,
each memory a thread, each thought a bow.
Through winding paths and fleeting dreams,
I weave a tapestry of silent screams.
A journey deep, where fears reside,
and hopes and sorrows often collide.
In this maze of wonder, dark and bright,
I search for sparks that ignite the night.
With each step forward, new doors appear,
leading to realms both far and near.
Exploring pockets within the labyrinth of my soul,
I uncover fragments to hold dear
and fragments that make me whole.
A prayer unanswered
may be only a delay.
The answer
is waiting
for a future day.
Dark of the moon
whispers
through the shadows of the clouds
like a cat stalking its prey.
The midnight sea
glistens and glitters—
the crystal ball in the old dance hall.
Hushed by the sea mist
stands an island in shrouds
of blues and greys and greens—
a rose patterned carpet muted with age.
Whirlpools of water stars
skitter
around the anchor and chain
like flickering fireflies at play.
Briefly we’ll stay
then soon again be on our way
wandering nomads of wind and wave
we, the sailors of the sea.
Do you see me?
Do you see the granite in my eyes?
Do you hear me?
Do you hear the wind across my face?
I have been here
More than a million years, and
I will be here more than a million more.
Remember.
That is how you see me.
Remember,
And you will hear me.
It is then you will remember
You.
How young and foolish
I once was
I know that now you see.
In the years
I’ve left behind
I’ve grown to understand
the world will never change with me
but I can change within.
Veils lift
worlds meet.
Time, space, distance
do not exist
in this time out of time
where worlds meet,
veils lift
at 4:00 a.m.;
my life is enriched.
This is reality.
I have hurt for the world
when the world didn’t hurt.
I have taken your pain,
your tears,
your griefs.
Your burdens you gave,
your karma I took,
but at last
I’ve forgiven
the one who’s to blame
and given me
back
to me.
Now gather round and listen mate I’ll tell you of a tale how Captain Blarney met his fate when searching for a whale.
He never was a sea-going man, preferring scotch to rum, the boat he bought was green and tan, with shrouds that just wouldn’t hum.
His boat was made of fiberglass, as light as it could be; he dreamed of all the boats he’d pass when he went out to sea.
He took a lesson now and then to teach him how to sail but no one in this world of men told him about The Gale.
The day was filled with storms and squalls when Blarney left the dock. The troughs were deep, the water walls but Blarney didn’t take stock.
“It’s whales I want to see,” he said. “They run this time of year.” The salt on short just shook his head and drank another beer.
“The Gale will get that foolish one,” the salt said through his beard. “He’ll find out sailing’s not all fun, the sea, she’s to be feared.”
Old Blarney laughed ‘till ten miles out still looking for the whale but when he turned the boat about he ran into The Gale.
Now when you go a sailing mate, remember of this tale, and know that Blarney was the bait for an old, humpback whale.
(Originally published in 1978, I feel this article is as important today as it was then.)
Woman in her struggle for freedom must first find herself. She must travel alone into the recesses of her being and learn the awareness of her own changing before embarking on a crusade to change others; she must perceive the universe from her own sight less she becomes a mere parrot; she must understand the joys of her own choosing rather than accepting those choices dictated for her. Freedom comes, not from the trading of old chains for new ones, but through a very private and personal interior journey into the abyss of self.
This journey is one of loneliness, of pain and heart wrenching questions. It is constant combat, this struggle of self, fought alone, the only ally also the contender. Each summit reached bringing forth another mountain of doubt. Though the journey through the labyrinth of self is filled with conflict, turmoil, and embittered dispute, the reward too is great. At the end of the sojourn lies freedom, self-liberation.
Without this journey into self, I fear we will only be exchanging new myths for old ones. Without first being a woman unto ourself no job, no law, no man, no one, can give us the freedom, the liberation, the self of Myself.