Today’s Elemental reading (for a friend)

28 08 2012

https://twitter.com/#!/mamaheyoka/media/slideshow?url=pic.twitter.com%2FY6vpGdCY

I’ve been playing around with an interpretive elemental/pentagram spread in my readings recently, using the traditional ruling of the pentagram: Spirit, Air, Earth, Fire and Water.

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My revolution looks like…

19 08 2012

Yesterday, a friend of mine posed the question: “What does your revolution look like?”

I had to step back and really let this question become more than just words. My first thoughts were- what is it, exactly, that I am revolting?

My free form exploration of this idea is as follows:

I am revolting against fear.

The fear of loss, of incapability, of intolerance. The fear of failure, of strife and of lack.

I am revolting against time.

Deconstructing the perceived binds that are held by time, the limitations and boundaries that inhibit and stifle, the idea that there is not enough time. The miscalculations from now irrelevant past equations, the idealization of future events yet to occur.

I am revolting against space.

Releasing the need for a specific locality for proper manifestation, seeing the unlimited potential that stretches endlessly and connects all.

I am revolting against matter.

And the limitations I implant within myself when I take for granted the physical world that surrounds me. The world of light and subatomic waltzes is within all. Objects are merely uniquely constructed and arranged particles which are given life when named, categorized and observed.

What does my revolution look like?

My revolution looks like the ocean at dawn, just before the tide comes in. It looks like steam rising from the asphalt after a summer rain. It’s a leaf blowing down an alleyway, moss on a tombstone. My revolution is the faraway look on a child’s face as they watch the full moon rise in a starlit sky. My revolution is liberty, and is my birthright.

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Today, I took a walk and saw the world with a new set of eyes-

Here’s some of the beautiful things that caught my eye as I walked:

Image

“…how they twinkle”

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Mozelle: and the pondering of the nearly extinct practice of ancestral veneration

16 08 2012

Today I opened an email that my Mother sent me, with pictures of my Grandmother attached. I’m still not sure exactly how old she was in the picture (that I now have as my wallpaper on my laptop), it appears she’s around eight.

Image

Mozelle Saxon, circa approximately 1932

I realized looking at these pictures, how little of the story of my Grandmother’s life I actually know.  I was very close to my grandparents on both sides, though all in all I felt a closer bond to my maternal grandparents.  I speculate this is the result of being the youngest grandchild for some time on my mother’s side, while on my father’s side competition for the attention of the tribe’s elders  among the cousins was much greater. I listened to many stories of my grandparents’ childhood, and can recall a great number of them.

I know that my Grandmother Mozelle (pictured above) was born in 1924 to sharecroppers Mattie and John Calvin Saxon in Goodwater, Alabama. She was 16 when she was picking crowder peas in a field while my grandfather passed her on the road, he saw her and fell instantly in love (he was then 25) and claimed that he had just seen the woman he was going to marry. They were eloped a few months later, and my Aunt Brenda was born that following year. There are many meandering stories from that point in my grandparents’ history, some recalled perfectly, some not. This brought me to a realization:  I don’t know as much about my family history as I would like, or even that I should, considering that I have four growing children who need to hear the stories of their ancestors.

Ancestral veneration has its roots back to the very beginnings of human history. Our ancestors taught us, throughout time, the stories that became like a game of divine telephone and morphed into the myths and legends of the hero. The stories passed down to us from our tribe’s elders have been done so to aid in the trials and tribulations of life as it unfolds. We all must embark on the hero/fool’s journey, with or without rite of passage. These were our grandparents’ gifts; handing down to us their play books as well as the torch to keep the fire burning.

I look around my life and I see how little my children know of their ancestors, how few stories they hear about life in the past and I wonder, is this important to human consciousness to be continuing? On a cultural level, I see the spinning of tales around the family fire tradition slowly smoldering. Perhaps the fact that I was born into an older family on my mother’s side than some of my generation, I experienced some of the last of the era of storytelling, perhaps it’s egocentric for me to even consider that? I know that in my life, sitting around the dining room and kitchen table listening to the stories of once upon a time was a cherished past time for family gatherings.

Families are not living as close together as they once were, and time spent with the extended family is dwindling. I know all too well, I too am guilty of participation in this social phenomenon. How do we embrace the huge advancements made in technology while still carrying our traditions and roots with us into the unknown? Is there merit in letting go of the traditions that deified the past? There can, of course, only be speculation. But nonetheless, these are my thoughts on this beautiful Florida blue sky sort of day, and I now have a drive to uncover more of who, how and why I came to be. The story that is older perhaps, than time. Well, older than the conceptualization of time, at any rate.





Omega points and Wikipedia hopscotch

14 08 2012

Today, I was playing a game of Wikipedia hopscotch (one of my favorite morning activities, consists of starting at an article and jumping into other articles via hotlinks) and though I cannot recall the exact train of article jumps, I ended on omega point:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Omega_Point

“In this theory, developed by Teilhard in The Future of Man (1950), the universe is constantly developing towards higher levels of material complexity and consciousness, a theory of evolution that Teilhard called the Law of Complexity/Consciousness. For Teilhard, the universe can only move in the direction of more complexity and consciousness if it is being drawn by a supreme point of complexity and consciousness.” This brings me to the importance of the Wikipedia hopscotch. I had to really evaluate when I first found myself randomly flipping through and reading Wikipedia articles, I had moments of feeling like I was wasting time, and perhaps at some points in my explorations I certainly have done just that- but then there was an unfolding of manifested thought and matter before me- the synchronicity of the random, the magick of chaos. I have yet to have a time when playing my morning game of hopscotch that I don’t come across something relevant to my personal locality. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Principle_of_locality) And of course, I am becoming more aware every day of the presence of a quantum, holographic universe, but the point of this rambling (and forgive me, for the ramble, I needed to say something without organizing thoughts first and feeling my personally created obligation to blogging) is really to share the patterns that I have observed in my experience, from my point of locality in this infinite omniverse. Oracles abound, with or without a game of Wiki hopscotch, wherever you look, there you shall find. Is there not a perfect moment around us waiting to be observed at all times? The very existence of such events are quarry only when observed, thus the observer cannot be changed by the observed. In less than five minutes time one or more of my thoughts will manifest in some other form of matter (or non-matter) through my keen observation….. to be continued.





Noon quick writing exercise, day one (from Plinky)

14 07 2012

from Plinky quick write inspirations (this one was about your “favorite vacation”)

http://www.plinky.com/answers/193137

  • the city of the forgotten umbrella
  • “I forgot what my father said
  • I forgot what he said
  • I forgot what my mother said
    as we layed upon your bed

  • A city full of flowers
    a city full of rain
    I got seven days to live my life
    or seven ways to die

  • I forgot what my brother said
    I forgot what he said
    I don’t regret anything at all
    I remember how he wept
    On a bridge of violent people
    I was small enough to cry
    I got seven days to live my life
    or seven ways to die

    Hold my face before you
    still my trembling heart
    Seven days to live my life
    or seven ways to die


    The Gods forgot they’ve made me
    so I forgot them to
    I listen to the shadows
    I play among their graves


    My heart is never broken
    my patience never tried
    I got seven days to live my life
    or seven ways to die
    Seven days to live my life
    or seven ways to die”

    -Seven, David Bowie
    (the song that always bring me back to those 7×2 days)
    Forgotten

    Amsterdam. It was the one time in my life that I felt free from the push and pull of the world. It was my two weeks of just being. I was, technically speaking, on a map, in a place, surrounded by hundreds and thousands of people, but I had managed to escape. The who’s and how’s and why’s are another story, for another day entirely. I was with the person who at that particular time in my life was the one person I could trust with being off the atlas for a short time. Nothing from the default or mundane could touch me there, and all I was left with was pure awe and wonder. Every experience was extraordinary, every passing stranger met with a smile. There where some darker and more challenging points to this venture, to be certain, but over all I left with a stronger hope for the larger scope of life, and a firmer belief that magick does indeed exist.