You make my life a waking dream everyday every day, a dream a day I dream of that place to go away a getaway I wanna get away with you away from it all, with you, together to destination unknown my only compass is my constant aching longing love for you in mad reckless abandon no rules no arrows its nothingness makes everything certain I have no manual on this I encounter you only once, all it takes is once, in this lifetime and I am overwhelmed by the wave of love i just flow with it only to hit the shores and come crashing back to you.
This is the rhythm of my life my world collides with your world mine dissolves till I take part of you. You consume me too much every life in me you take so easily I just died again like you've never been so raw and intense to any man before, your whole life in autopilot while he stole your mind your heart and you drown before it catches you back to find out you are soaked with love so intensely with too much passion.
Dazed you are dazed like drugged you're a wave of drug I am deeply addicted you have no choice but to just let it take you away away far away to an invisible place like you can fade into the night you believe every word he says and you are swept away by him you you incorrigible presence of a soulmate you permeate through my every sense down to my very core you and I collide in an impact so drastically wedged in my mind my heart my heart my weary heart that went out against the whole world for you I crash into your arms again and again like a melody in infinite repeat a world of ambivalence and detest can hit me and it won't move me it all went down to every single word you breathe out of your gentle mouth and if you just say the word there is not a force in this universe that can stop me the universe made this happen the universe conspired for me to appear in your life, then explosion, then fireworks.
My very own desiderata. One shot, one kill. I am yours to no end, Ad infinitum...
SABADO NEGRA
Mad, guiltless, shameless...I'm going to relish it and it will last, oh baby it will scar...
Saturday night driven by some radom cab driver to home from God knows where we went, cigarette dangling from your lips, camera obscura blasting on the stereo it's our own version of black saturday Jesus is dead today there is nobody on the road not even on christmas eve if it is this still and you know you just had to get on the high road it is not a road you pass by very often it costs to get up there.
Not too many reasons to climb that ramp tonight yet you chose to steer towards that direction, something thrums deep within the engine towards...
It costs high to elevate you above all the other men and those awful nameless faces slinking along that highway of my mind doing their best to miss each other to blink out their image from the mirror,and what for, nothing more than to get to bed faster than everyone else its a race, I want none of that tonight, I pay the cost to take you higher, a few moments of abject selfishness on an empty road
A value meal a drink or a pack of cigarettes, not even sure if the cost of owning you is far more than what my frailty can afford, just to get up here you just had to...you'd pay that much for a stretch of road thats all yours, all ours, few moments of exclusivity
exquisite while you believe it the road is empty the entire road is yours you turn up the volume not driving any faster
Steady and staring out the window sexing the silence ; nothing else flatters a woman, nothing empowers a girl chewing plots and plans, you casting nets into the future what it draws in no one knows, sentiments amplified by song, driving down an empty road with him she really cant afford.
The onrush of a conquering force is like the bursting of pent-up waters into a chasm a thousand fathoms deep.
who has walked through her past and who has healed into the present moment,
who celebrates her body’s rhythms and cycles as an exquisite resource,
who allows the feelings to pass through her as gracefully as a breath,
who trusts her experience of the world and expresses it,
who follows her creative impulses, who designs a personal spirituality to inform her daily life,
A woman who has descended into her own inner life; who is grateful for the ordinary moments of beauty and grace,
who authors her own life, who chooses friends and lovers with the capacity to respect her solitude, who sits in circles of women;
who makes a powerful statement with every word she speaks, every action she takes; who asserts to herself the right to reorder the world.
Imagine a woman who has vowed faithfulness to her own life and capacities; who remains loyal to herself; regardless. Now imagine yourself as this woman. ....
I AM who I am. Becoming more and more the woman the universe intends me to be, one step at a time, one lifetime at a time =) Om shanti shanti shanti, peace and light to myself, my fellow human species, and to the collective universe, from the young to The Ancient Ones, to my Great Ancestors, the Old Great Mother, to The Great Horned God, to the spirit of the forests, to the pulse of mother earth, to the Soul of the World, Anima Mundi. Peace and light to the primordial worlds, to the watchtowers and guardians of the four winds, to Hecate, Demeter, Diana, Cerredwen, to Om, Pan, Thor, Hel, Cernnunos, To the Celtics and Druids up north, to the Myans from the South, to my great Babaylan ancestors from the West of the region, to the legacy and unending, albeit dark and hidden Wisdom of my green witch grandmother who never stopped looking after me through her rose-colored quartz who foreseen my birth a decade before I actually came to life, thank you, I will honor you for as long as I live, together with your Ancient practice and hearthen tradition of the Moon, to my divine source, to the source of the same cosmos where everything moves with and through love. Every time The Great Sun God returns to the exact same place at the moment of my birth, I remember my history, I remember where I came from, I remember my origin all recorded in my old memory and my DNA. All I need is within me. May all beings in this universe be liberated. This is my only wish.
'Uni', one, unity, and 'verse', song and hymn, a collective unity of all consciousness that sings as one, the universe. The melody can be heard only by those who take the time to listen. Universe, may you be heard by those born in this generation. This is my only wish as I turn to my 27th Saturn and Solar Return.
On a long, thick night..fleeting side by side below the atrocious storm, wind violent water heavy, angry like the fierce passion wedged between your naked body..there, then, I tiptoed beyond the hairline divide..
Between smoke and fiction, there lies the abyss of truth, into which I consistently fall, where each scene appears true, pure, no intervention, and yet in falling, I have already intervened.
A moment, defined precisely by the violence with which it is displaced from its stadium, by the violence without which a moment is not a moment.
Something silky, excellent food, gelato scoops, snobby art films, beautiful and neverending conversations, and an infinite repeat of ambient music..weekend taken out of the carousel of the ordinary, photographed within the prisms of memory.
Tender, melancholic, sensual, I lovingly trace every contour of your face and I will remember them deeper than the the breasts of motionless current. I'm not telling you what happened. But these things are true. Because my memory photographed it, unstaged, unaltered.
Thoughts (Or lack of any lol)
The business of my happiness is critical and private. My privacy is extremely sacred. And my discernment in recognising whoever crosses the line to invade these two is intensely acute.
-The first experience with a coffee is its smell, designed by universal law to stimulate from the very outer sense. I don't like lids, I am disinclined even in future occasions to place caps and lids, the old way is the best, poured delicately in a glazed ceramic cup.
-Sustaining your self gives self worth, living on your own, paying for your space you call your own home, providing for your self, feeding your self, moving and denying and accepting and rejecting and erring and correcting emotionally free, autonomous, and detached from any other human being (even, or rather, especially, from one's parents) dignifies you.
-Whether you like it or not, what other people think of me is truly none of my business, to each his own. If it's any good, that's bonus, my REAL business is what what & how I think of myself.
-Class is a non-renewable asset, you cannot earn or learn this from educating yourself in the most elite of universities, neither can it be inherited from your parents as it doesn't come as a package within your trust fund. Real class comes from your sense of valuing, taking root from dignity, total grace that come from the elegance in feeling and living this earth life, that is THE genuine article of class. Money is related to class only in the minds of people who have too much of the former, too little of the latter or none of either.
-To move armed only with rogue information is akin to turning to a bend half blind. You won't know what will hit you.
-The younger (cmon no violent reaction lol!) I get the more I am in love with India. I met a new friend named Lynne in a resto's anniversary (owned by a friend of my bestfriend so sketchy na haha). She went to India and I drool over her photographs! When I get there I will be a royal bum and further learn Ashtanga Vinyasa yoga in Mysore, go to thoroughfares (esquinita) and smell the spices, have my face painted and do Vipassana meditation by the Ganger rives and not have a care in the world! Before I turn 30!
-The business of my happiness is critical and private. My privacy is extremely sacred. And my discernment in recognising whoever crosses the line to invade these two is intensely acute.
-Saturn return, Saturn return, did not really fully understand this until I am nearing it, and I have my yoga mentor, astrology teacher and friend admonish me, this is what Saturn return is about, starting from scratch, clearing the way so I have a new slate.
-I am slowly becoming a regular in Chiqui Mabanta's Corner Tree Cafe. I have tried almost all the vegetarian restos here in Manila but I've yet to try one as inventive as CTC's in reinventing vegetarian food! Had a little chat with Chiqui and she said she wanted to keep adding more surprises, putting in more treats in their menu. Wee! It's like veggie paradise, and I have a fellow veggie foodie who willingly volunteers to be suckered into CTC every single time, which makes every dining there more heavenly.
-I also have a thing lately with French cuisine. I admit I have an untrained tastebud when it comes to French dining, but with all the restos I've tried, I think I am getting there. So far I love how Seabass is prepared, the French way, and how mild the flavors are, no exaggeration, patient, layered, moment after moment flavor revealing itself, quietly elegant, so French.
- I got another invite for beginner's Ashtanga workshop from my studio Yogamanila, but I've attended that already, and I am practicing Ashtanga now. Thing is, I need a real push, take me to next level so by next year I promise to consistently attend one slow flow class and one Mysore class (Hello Ms. Kitty Arambulo!), then self practice, in a week. I hope YM offers an intermediate Ashtanga workshop for Ashtangis like me who are caught in the middle lol.
-The next time Collete Lim comes here offering cooking lessons, I hope I can afford her. The next time Scott comes here for Ashtanga workshop, I hope I am prepared physically.
-I am SOOOO ADDICTED to chocolates!!! Not the milk ones, the pure, dark, unadulterated, totally sinful virgin chocolates brewed from Chocolate wine. Ive gone to Xocolat a zillion times to sin over and over again with their Mexican chocs!!! It gained me 2 lbs though lol. I dream of chocolates I dream of putting mocha bars in my coffee I dream of over melting more choc bars than butter in making ganache I LOVE chocolates!!
-Will experience my 2*th solar return (birthday) near. The same ritual. Hehe. You know who you are people, I will call you. Let me see my family first and report to them that I am still alive and 15 lbs over my ideal weight haha.
Don't you think my laziness to text and type is a sign of aging? Seriously I rather phone people. I am so lazyyyyyyy.
Halloween violent storm bourbon whiskey E.T. cream shots cigs and smokes midnight black army coat drunken stupor blood and sweat dripping arugula in candied walnut potions aromatic oils slinky robes becoming heavy and heavier, heavy a day thick nights heavy pain turns unbearable I ride in pain. Everything turned beautiful and curiously calm.
She's done, maybe. she's so over. The moment your weekend trysts consumes you down to the core sleepwalk down to shady clandestine Saturdays in hiding too much shadow it drives you to drink manly scotch and bourbon as you watch yourself leave anything on the bedsheets you get to pick your own hair and fear spraying your own perfume like dear life holds on to it before the entire mansion he calls his smells like you down to the dusty frame.
And you didn't think you'd see the day, yeah, maybe, you know you just had it. You're so over. The drugged happy thirteen going on fourteen feeling raised like you would raise your stake and place your highest bet on his table - your entire self.
Then I saw you again in that foggy dream.
I did agree with Milan Kundera when he said be very careful with metaphors, metaphors can be dangerous, it can give birth to love, didn't I????? Shit.
Stay on the line that hairline divide that thin thin line shit can't find the line don't know where the fucking line is drawn shit too late fell off the stupid line I can't see and find as if it refuses to be seen gone it's too late.
Moment that could be recorded in twenty minute tape but took a lifetime to think about; my very own desiderata, one shot, one kill. To be nailed to a metaphor is to be nailed to the wind, that wind is a cross, is a curse, is a vehicle. He will love you in passing you will love him unconditionally.
My life, then, two bodies later, it was me and another pilgrim, encircled by people and pregnant silence. In the whorehouse of his heart, maybe the whores are not whores, they are ladies in waiting. They smile with poison tipped daggers behind their back and more importantly in their minds.
Sorry, I am the sort of woman who will carry drunken bodies up never ending staircases. Faintly I remember the taste, the anticipation of twelve going on thirteen in my mind. I'm feeling vulnerable, scared and uncertain but that's never stopped me before.
We are eternal, you are a part of me. I loved you from way back, I love you even before you were born. Had you been once part of me? Can I hope against hope that you, who knows so much about the dark night, contains a little of the person I have once been?
Certainty can be poisonous, certain that she knows everything anyway and forgave him because he is her great love, and great love is above the things of this world. That only there in his arms could she close her eyes and sleep like a child. Certainty will kill.
Love comes when manipulation stops, when you dare to reveal yourself fully, when you dare to be vulnerable.
I come near full circle, to where I begin, to the noise of silence. Dead, pregnant silence, yet, the intimacy it gives...it still has the loudest voice.
It is silence that gives us both intimacy. We hardly know where to situate this silence... but we know it has the loudest voice.
This, my love, this, whatever this is, it is enough. I have to take a backseat, and everything..all that I have for you, I take with me to the backseat. I will love you until I take my last breath, you, and him. And yet, I'll give you up if this is the only way to make you happy. Hold my hand. Goodnight. Goodbye. Let go. You are free now.
The full moon's intrepid beam fell on my window, casting a faint light towards my direction, as I sat, in all that's left, with all that pain, sadness, and love hasn't drained yet, I sat in the cold, alone in my living room, at 2 O'clock in the very early morning,in too much pain, waiting, in all lost hopes and burden, sadness wrapped around me, with a heartache too unbearable, I sat still, waiting, still waiting, waiting aimlessly, waiting for something that might not happen, for something that I fear so much would happen, for that unspoken truth to find its quiet, violent, passionate, fiery way into him, maybe, waiting for him, for us, to happen.
For all the tears spent, sleepless nights, those little things and favors, sweat, blood, and tears I gave up in deep secrecy, in profound silence, I lay them all for you, without conditions, without hopes of return so that in my solitude I find my own peace with the thought of giving up everything, giving it all, surrendering all that I have and all that I am, for this love I have for you.
I am left with few choices, and yet I still choose you, I rocked my mind goodbye and allow my heart to be free, to yield without holding back as I used to, I let my heart run wild and do the only thing it knows, to go after you in total, reckless abandon. I let water run for too long I can't even remember when it all began, until my eyes have no tears to shed now, what's left is the searing, agonizing pain anchored down to my core.
I sit here, still, waiting. They say we must live each day like it's your last. I love you in a kind of love that crushed my borders. I love you, this love, that it raised the stakes higher than what I can take, and I place my highest bet on your table - my heart.
I love you, and this is my best act. Your stage. I am yours. May it find its way to you.
Some of the people we will meet are better talkers than doers, or so they seem through the course of their actions, who knows, the best we can do is observe, judging is outside of our business.
To run hammock through crook and conclusion armed only with rogue knowledge is akin to jumping off the cliff on a blindfold, you never land on your feet. Yet sometimes, based on SOUND sense and with the nature of the situation, it is best to keep truths in the shadow, for the mean time. Allow the natural rhythm of time to make the person face things that are called to be faced, and with no, or very little effort, truth will rear its beautiful head, cleansing situations, intentions, motives, heart, putting everything into question, finally into conclusion.
I know there is a hairline divide between sheer honesty and self-aggrandisement, we all know it coming from something deep, primordial part of our selves. They differ in motive, you can sense the warmth and altruism of integrity and the noxious, clamoring, claw digging smoke of braggadocio, there's always a bitter aftertaste with the ego. The key is not to be a lipserving mouthspill, find wisdom in discernment.
And yet to the uninformed, "non-wisened" (or both), things appear differently, tainted with biases and personal though habits, oh well, the view is always different from a rose-colored glass.
Then some hold on like dear life to these tainted view, this obscured, colored perception, clinging for this is the only reality they know.
Some choose to see things for what they really are, and take the clear, transparent, top view.
They also choose to be still. Silent. Like a quiet wave of a tamed mind.
---
Pulsating in Life
Thanks to my teacher/astrologer, who lend me her Moon Time book, I was able to count for my biorhythms. It was so consistent and accurate with Lunar cycles, astrological symbol systems, and with my own birth details. I'm taken away.
No, this is not a technical user manual of living, I counted it to observe and pay attention to my own personal rhythms in life, and how I resonate with these information and truths passed on from many generations. I'll see. I always see, in my own perfect time :-)
What is mass-marketed now as Valentines, which I never never celebrate, is a time of self dedication, just as the Great Mother's recovery after giving birth to god, I enter my first glimpse of the spring. Right after the shake and storm of the two major eclipses, the visit of Luna to Aquarian girth, I welcome imbolc and start anew, cleaning the inner space, changing within in order make way for a new clean slate, and throw the changes without.
The eternal rhythm of life, Nature in its unending pulse awakens us, urging us to wake up from the slumber of winter, and get ready to bask in the fruits of our labor, plans, desires, and while spring Equinox is still to be experienced, we slowly return to the consciousness of spring. I'm still drowsy from the long sleep.
In fact, too drowsy the first physical poke is enough to send me tipping off my grounding. I remember the beauty of rootedness, I must go back to that. On the contrary to what modernity has preached and ingrained into us people living in the city, you need not obsess about working hard to make it in life, the universe will support me to live my life in ease and grace, as I have removed the blindfold and see a clear picture how my short life can sing in unison with the cosmos.
'Uni', one, unity, and 'verse', song and hymn, a collective unity of all consciousness that sings as one, the universe. The melody can be heard only by those who take the time to listen, the reality behind this obscure illusion of living is palpable only to those who wishes to experience it. Imbolc has passed, the slumber is over.
March begins The Vernal (or Spring) Equinox, just as April is World Earth Month, March is the anticipation to the coming Vernal Equinox, equal day and night, Oestara it is. I pass from one time to another, and yet none of both for I am between one time and another. At the same time, Sun passes through Pisces, the sign marked as the cradle before consciousness and destination after the height of consciousness, beautiful Pisces, either before or after the archetypal evolvement of the soul, the sign is still "out of this world", as Oestara has symbolised in my life, the rite of passage in between seasons and tides.
May the cosmos lead me to the decisions that flow and not contradict my natural rhythm in life, enter these points of journey with grace, pause and enjoy the journey, and in its time, release everything so I may ascend to the next. I need painstaking work in releasing and letting go, but I also know the gates to the self have opened, the veil was drawn, and now I can begin the best journey I will ever take. In overwhelming light and Shanti. Now I can say that during parting, as I bid someone light and love, this time, I mean it from my heart.
~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~
After several days of declaring virtual sabbatical, I decided to finally go online and check my social networking accounts in between breaks. A good and close friend of mine way back from high school, whom I haven't seen for almost a year now because he's too busy being an entrepreneur and I'm too busy being me, commented on my recent photographs, saying I do look incredibly good now, way better than i've ever been in the past decade.
Well I say it must be the significant weight loss and the golden mocha haircolor made him say that. What he can't explain is why, despite that the features and skin color remain the same, save the weightloss, what really makes someone appear beautiful.
I couldn't tell my friend I am more beautiful because of how my life is altered at an unexpected turn, so fast. Physical appearance really is genetically determined, but the impression one's physical appearance makes on people are driven by the quality of heart, the inner state of soul (not the mind), and the radiant flow of balanced energy so attuned to Mother Nature and the cosmos, that's what makes a person appear beautiful on the outside.
I don't know how to explain to my friend everthing that has happened to me the past year, how I am pre-figured to be the person I want to be, how I've flung the gates to the self open and how I'm defining my lifestyle to attune and integrate to the reality of my spirituality, but I guess I need not to, for how I look now says everything I cannot say. ;-p
Home, Heart and Hearth: Honoring the lunar side of the self.
Nobody has ever been available, or is known to me within my inner, outer, and far-flung circle, to show me the lunar salutation. Until David came, who taught me that the best meditative lunar salutation is that which is of organic movement, flowing, natural, following your own steady pace and rhythm, it is not some methodical systematic series of movement, that is not lunar, that is exercise. He didn't really 'teach' me any posture or move, just as my first expectations had been. That was the BEST lunar salutation or lunar ritual I made in my years of being a student of Wicca. I almost cried aligning and rejoicing to the entry of the new moon eclipsing in Aquarius. I was so overwhelmed with love, just flowing and thanking the Great Mother, the feminine aspect of me, the forefathers before me who had brought upon me this regenerating practice, and this beautiful beautiful journey I am taking.
Culminating the Aquarian New moon eclipse, I was given a vision that seemed obscure at first, cryptic, foggy, illusory, and painful. I reel back in pain up to this day during my times of being me. I remember Chiron, the wounded healer, healing through suffering, and I embrace her presence as I go through the lesson of this lunar tide, I knew something is bound to change unexpectedly, just as what Solar eclipses are known for. I have been anticipating the arrival of this lunar new year since I printed my astrological calendar.
Mind spills and The tranquil,
fading whispers of a firegoddess who just
emerged from the labyrinth..
Who am I? Can you keep a
secret? Good, so can I. better luck next
lifetime. [@]
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