Reflection Of My Love

by a.m. moscoso

” What are you looking at Jingle? “  Milo Hungerford asked his wife.

Jingle was standing in front of their bathroom mirror with her hairbrush in her hand and she turned slowly towards him and said, ” I don’t know. “

He came up behind her and stared into glass and shook his head.

” That’s not right Jingle. “

She put her hand to her face and looked into the mirror again and when she turned back towards Milo she started to cry. ” Milo what’s happening to me? “

Milo  pulled Jingle to his chest and turned her away from the looking glass.

” Is it still there Milo? “

Milo held Jingle tighter and said, ” yes. “

” The one in the foyer- let’s try that one too. “

” Jingle- it won’t…” he started to say and then when he saw the look on her face he nodded. “okay, we’ll try that one too.”

Milo held his wife’s hand and they walked down the dark halls to the entrance to their home and together they looked into the mirror there and Jingle burst into tears and grabbed her face.

” Oh Milo- oh Milo what’s happening to me? ” she cried.

Milo looked into the mirror and there in the glass he saw his wife holding her hairbrush, her dark hair framing her face- all alone except for the darkness that was their home and he turned her gently towards him and said,

” I don’t know how it happened Jingle…but I think you’re alive. “

Dissection of Elixir

ELIXIR of CREATIVITY

A Fitzgerald Acrostic by faucon

Of E

Elation is essential to a rebirthed notion,
or blending of mind and spirit
in soulful reverberation …

or simply remembering
of what has been afore
through instinct or Current draw,
or kiss of faerie-dew …

for if you lack capacity for awe;
or are unwilling to dance at dawn,
then no magick drought
will quench your yearning

On L

“To love life is to know life,”
or so echoes ancient halls …
and pulsing blood and creaking bones
has little to do with wisdom –

but the joyous reflection of a flower’s tear,

or sudden laughter of gusted leaf,

or whimsy of a stranger’s glance

can bring life to somber drear,
or self-inflicted desert of inspiration.

Else I

“I” is an important word to know –
though only relevant because of ‘you’,
for creation is only found in ‘we’.

Stand on my shoulders
that I might see the world through eyes
beyond the limits of ego’s attention –
and any seed of intuition
that I may nurture to fruition
must surely come from another’s hand.

X marks the spot

Somewhere between exasperation and expectation
is a spot of exaltation
as one sees divinity in being one and all,
without exception.

Cross my heart and finger hex
that any thought may become a poem,
and each person met a story told –

and I am but the pen,
and willingness,
and parchment scraped clean
through adversity.

I Again

One could wallow in indecision,
implicit intent, or even intemperance
as source of inspiration –

but one only need look back at self,
as reflected in other’s myopic perception
and ponder the inequities
of being other than you seem –

and then describe in some lyric form
that “I” and “me”
are but figments
of divine attention.

R us

These five steps of introspection
all have a common theme of risk;
a concept overshadowed by respect,
responsibility and reason –

yet, it is the willingness to fail
that is the true fuel of creativity –

and that you will take the risk
while others remain but critics –

thereby but in the audience
of the living symphony.

Androgiosity

Each phrase that follows is an extraction from a poem or posting written by me - faucon. In each case I received a comment which indicated a gender view of the writer or deity focus of the phrase. You all can join in this. For each, decide whether the ‘deity’ effecting the action is ‘male’ or ‘female’, both or neither. Enjoy. No right or wrong answers.

“the thought was so profound that its energy fingered down like a flash of lightning to caress the soft hills of yearning earth.”

“Evidence of God’s hand is all around us but we don’t always see. The greatest culprit is that we don’t look, or perhaps are too afraid to see.”

“The twisted and gnarled trunks seemed like sinewy arms attempting to draw heavenly glory down to a troubled earth. Foolish, since God’s grace distills like dew on the petals.”

“Outside there is darkness, — and there, and there;
shadows fitting to those ever suffering
from yearning, longing or crush of endless shame.
But here is light, flickering hope, tiny passion flames.”

“I close my eyes in wondrous, silent thought
and seek the source of blessed, vibrant song.
Then I sigh aloud and laugh in fond relief.
I know ‘tis You that simply called my name.”

“What if the entire purpose of our existence here is only to be washed in the sea of our birth again and again until our souls are smooth and flawless? What if the grinding sand and crashing waves of our struggles produce a music we are not meant to hear?”

“Diamond dew drops do distill and join the twinkling of the brook,
and birth strong song of meadowlark and glint of fluttered fairy wings.
Man may mourn and dream of stealth while vengeful justice closes book.
Hopeful love runs unto the sea and cannot know what future brings.”

“What if a dream could play?
Would it dash with me to a playground swing;
back to innocence - forward to heaven’s climb?
Or would that we spin on that small carousel
where it takes planned help to friendship bring?”

“I cannot touch the blessings
that rain down on humanity.
But I know that you are there,
for I am cleansed in mercy
and renewed in flowering birth.”

Reflections in the Mirror: Lady of the Lake

Mirror Work…

In the tradition that I study, anything can be a mirror of my inner process - people, animals, and most especially nature. For so many of us “modern” men and women - nature is “out there.” What we forget is that nature was there before we arrived and if we do not totally destroy our planet - she will be there long after we leave. Perhaps what has changed is our relationship with Her.

When did we decide that nature is something to be trussed and tied, subdued and contained, managed and devoured?

What hope is there for our earth if we see Her only as a supplier of natural resources? What will happen when all the ones who can remember how to praise her have crossed over? It is easy to fall into despair and despondency and to feel helpless. It is far more difficult to pay attention to what is working, and follow that flow of energy.

How do you pay attention to what is working? Where is nature a mirror for your inner process?

When I told my family and friends about my plans to quest - many of them were frightened. They shared their worries with me - would I get lost? probably not… be eaten by a bear? not likely… encounter a mountain lion? gosh that would be a thrill! mostly they wondered what would happen to me - alone for three days and nights - fasting for four days and nights.

What happened was a glorious conversation with the non-human world - reflecting back to me with utter certainty that the whole world is holding its breath - waiting for me fill the niche that only I can fill.

The process of reincorporation - literally coming back into my body - is at times painful and prickly - but I am finding my way - expanding my breadth of experiences and finding the men and women who can be clear mirrors for me. When we look into a clear mirror - and like what we see - it is our incipient self looking back at us - yearning to be re-membered.

Here I go mixing metaphors - but roaming through Lemuria weaves so many disparate parts of my life together into one exquisite tapestry. So many yarns and threads of varied textures and colors, thicknesses and weights - skillfully combined to tell my story - my larger story - my epic tale - my heroic journey and all around me are clear mirrors - reflecting possibility, creativity, and courage right back at me!

It is with reverence and gratitude that I kneel before Enchanteur and place this tapestry on the floor before her. Heather stands beside her with Raven on her shoulder. Looking into their eyes, they hear me with the ears of their hearts. And if you are reading this - you too will hear this piece of the tale.

Enchanteur heard me knocking, saw my creative potential, and pulled me close to her. She let me feel her beating heart, let me breathe in rhythm with her, sprinkled me with the seeds of dreams and the visions of enchantment.Upward we swirled and flew on the wings of ravens, down we penetrated - into the dark, black, holding spaces of incubation, and then returning to the middleworld, she gave me a pair of wings, some spectacles, and several other useful items (and that darn candlestick) and she gave me a nudge in the direction of previous travellers and wished me well.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By Soulwright

The Flensing of Frogita

Frogita’s fine reflection invokes many thoughts on ‘finding our authentic self’ – and whether it can be accomplished by sloughing of detritus imposed by others and earlier perceptions, or whether one must just use what we are, and carve a better ’self’ through retaining what has brought us to now. Certainly I (faucon) hear echoes of found thoughts:

“the only thing standing in the way of a new idea is that and old one is in its place”

“always seek congruency between who you are and how you are perceived to be”

“carrying a cross may be essential to spiritual growth – carrying the wrong cross, fatal”

In forming our ‘new-self’, how do we decide what to keep and what to throw away? If our future options are somewhat guided by how well we balance ‘what has brought us here’, then is there not a danger in throwing things away.

A pondering – nothing more – with thanks to Frogita …

a quick archive search found this – perhaps in contrast, perhaps in support

“I am carved by hard chisel and polishing love. The chips that may have fallen away during this ’sculpting’ are already ground into the course dust of time. That which remains is most surely mine, and ever should be. I cannot deny who I am — where I have been. My spirit may progress in quick release, or evolve beyond the blocks of mind, but my past is what has brought me here.

The key perhaps is to become content, to seek balance between ‘what was’ with ‘what will be’. If this takes strength, if this demands courage, then I dare not throw away the crucible in which I was ground. Above all else, when I extend my hand to those in grief, pain and confusion, I must be able to say, “Been there — done that.” Only then will I be believed. Only then trusted. Only then authentic.

Only then me.”

Full Moon

Rosary of the holy lamb

Did your hand run across it?

O Saint of fire and light

Did your feet run in the meadow

With speckled dingoes and sheepdogs?

Were the beads dipped in blood?

Did your hand draw back with

The flesh all but gone?

 

Did you say your prayer

Amidst the smoke, sirens and the pain?

Was the moon rising full

Over the trees and outback?

 

The faerie queen danced just outside

My back door last night.

The angels cried when they saw your wounds,

Archangels bringing green/gold flames

 

Bring me my sword, Joan

Bring me my shield and armour

Bring me my spear and all the horses

Of my ancestors.

Under the full moon we will be warriors

If he can’t heal you

I will find the God who can.

MotherBear

 

Kindling…

Kindling The Fire ~This morning

As I kindle the flame upon my hearth,

I pray that the flame of Christ

May burn in my soul.

I pray that no envy or malice,

No hatred or fear,

May smother the flame,

I pray that indifference and apathy,

Contempt and pride, may not pour

Like cold water on the flame.

Instead, may the spark of Christ light

The love in my soul,

And may it burn brightly through the day.

May I warm those that are lonely,

whose hearts are cold and lifeless

So that all may know the comfort of

Christ’s love.

Mother Bear

An Abbey Mirror Conversation

Exercise: 9b) Abbey Mirror

“Ever have an aversion yet fascination for something? Something usually, really, innocuous? Something, say like a mirror?”

“Hmm, strawberries. Love them, but I’m allergic.”

*half smile* “I don’t mean food or something that has the potential to endanger your well-being. I meant something that’s used practically everyday. Something we take for granted or don’t consciously think about.”

“Like the mirror.”

“Yes. The mirror. Exactly. I don’t like them.” *a pause* “Well…I should say, I don’t care for them.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why? Why do they bother you so?”

“They reveal the truth. Sometimes too much of it. All at once.” *self-deprecating laugh* “But that’s…the very fascination I have with them.” *half smile again and waves hand* “But then that’s a mirror’s nature isn’t? Telling the truth. Revealing what we would or don’t want to know.”

“And…you don’t want the truth known? Are you afraid, is that it?”

“Afraid?” *thinks, analyzes* “Only of what my reflection reveals about me. Since a comment from both parents about my weight, I’ve been self-conscious. And don’t ask what I can do about that. I know what I can do.”

“Ok, then let’s talk about your fascination. You said it’s the truth mirrors reveal that fascinates you.”

“Aye. But even then the truth they reveal is sometimes misleading.”

“How so?”

“C’mon doc! I didn’t come here for you to play dumb. Don’t make me spell everything out!”

“Ok, ok. You mean illusions, don’t you. Magic.”

*smiles and chuckles quietly* “There you go. Magic, yes. In today’s world. The slight-of-hand, distraction variety.

“Mirrors are very interesting objects, you know? They may be everyday objects now, but once upon a time, in a day and age of pageantry and magic, they were valued tools. Tools of magic.”

(chin cocked with interest) “Really?”

“Yes. The Roman god Vulcan made a mirror that foretold the past, present and future. Camelot’s Merlin had a mirror that warned of treason.” *smiles a bit* “Then there’s the most famous one of all…”

“Which is?”

*small chuckle* “C’mon doc. Even you’ve heard of this mirror as a lil girl.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who’s the fairest of them all?”

“Oh, that mirror.”

“Yes, that mirror. It revealed the fairest woman in all the kingdom. Which, eventually, happened to be Snow White.

“That is my true fascination. Mirrors reveal all kinds of truth, yet their truths can also be deceiving.”

“Very astute of you. Has a mirror ever deceived you?”

“Only the ones used by today’s illusionists. My mirror reveals the painful, unvarnished truth. Though…I guess it could become a friend…”

“And that’s why you’re here today? To turn this…aversion…into something positive.”

“I guess so…yes.”

“And how can you do that? Do you have an idea of where to start?”

“I dunno…” *thinks* “Look for something else in the mirror? A more positive truth?”

(nodding and writing notes down on a white legal pad) “Good. But beware of illusions, yes?”

“Yes.”

Ding!

“Our time’s up. I’m sorry. But for the next week, look into the mirror at least once a day and try to find a positive truth.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll try.”

Shiloh Cannon Blackburn