Six Moon Fasting
The secret I hold is this:
For six moons I have fasted
I have been without the taste of honey
Dancing sweet rhythms upon my tongue
For six moons there has been hunger; but the hunger has not been fed
Food was available, but the act of feasting was not enticing
Mind storms had to drop rain upon the landscape and rattle thunder inside the head
For six moons I have been without;
For another six moons I could still go…
My patience seeking a worthy meal, a worthy cook, a worthy celebration
Because it is understood that this will be
No fast-food craving like in-and-out
But a home-cooked meal, one that takes days, if not weeks to prepare
Each dish gently warmed, the fire heating
Each element to the most perfect temperature
Seasonings teased upon the lips,
Each ingredient passing between the fingers
And dancing upon the tongue…
All singing alluring melodies of tantric taste sensations
After stirring the pot, sticking the bread in the oven, and frosting the cake
Each selection is presented to the eyes
In a dazzling display of acrobatic vibrance
And before I truly dig in, I give thanks,
Taking the time to honor what is before me
Joyously celebrating the synchronicity that has allowed this feast to exist
And when your eyes are averted,
I will dip my tongue into the desert just for a quick tease
Before the appetizers are even touched,
Salivation begins to overwhelm the mouth
My tongue darts out and moistens the lips about to taste heaven
Anticipation is building inside...
Feeling giddy is becoming a comfortable constant…
As we lean in to devour what is before us,
Neither of us quite know what our first bite will be…
Either a deliciously slow seduction of the meal before us
Caressing each nibble as if painting a masterpiece with the tongue
Or passionately abandoning all control
And devouring it until there is nothing left but a satisfied appetite
In the end, both ways will be embraced
Throughout the course of celebration.
For six moons I have fasted…
Feasting upon the dripping, sweet sugar of honeycomb
Shall be enjoyed well past the time of dreams…
Turning dreams into feasts, and feasts into dreams
Devouring, nibbling, licking, sucking, kissing,
And eating you out... of all the nourishment you have to offer.
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Six Moon Soul Resurrection
if ya really wanna know, here's the skinny on my last six months:
life's difficulties have been an anchor on my soul, pulling me down to face my inner demons eye to eye and battle it out to see whether fear or love will be dominating the next phase and phrase of each step of my journey, my path cut through this earth, stepping out of ruts and ha-'buts' my soulway floating above all, watching the serenity of the dance of all the critters around, throughout, between, and inside existence...
the battle ensued when the mind chatter kept shouting 'you suck' at decibels too loud to stand and my soul was tired of sitting the bench, waiting for its turn to shine, so it stepped up to the plate, not too late or too soon, though i wish it would have been sooner than later so that my tuner would have been dialed into the frequency needed to make those connections which have been so superficial and missed, sometimes dissed because i was in such mind space that i could not see the opportunity before me and how to play in order to jump on board and really harvest those fruits which were put on this plane for me to taste and honor.
it all comes flooding back so quick, triggered by a tsunami half-way across the globe, can't run away or escape this liquid encasing me in its microscope examining the cracks and defects of ego and flipping me on my back to stare up into the sky where the glow of fire is reduced to a pin sized hole in the blackness of space and i begin to understand that star is me. not in any sort of figurative manner, but the fire burning inside this soul cannot be contained by anything in this physical world; i'm no planet, i'm a super-star-nova, casanova and '76 super-charged chevy nova, for that matter.
so here i am. torn apart and reconstructed for the ump-teenth million time, outshining everything in my path, so much so that those on those lower frequencies are blind to what i am, not better or worse, just not ready for the course just yet, spinning and churning, fire not quite burning as brite as it could, as hot as it should. but i understand that... i've been there so recently that my soul aches with empathy and sympathy and a cacophony of musical notes that floats high above all else with the intention of unzipping the facade on this melo-drama and revealing the inner-workings of magic that connect us together to keep us laughing, to remind us to cry the grief out of our life so we may cut like a knife through this chain the keeps us anchored to the past or future but away from the moment.
so i walk upon the razor of this samurai sword, bridging the gap between the horde of unconscious masses sitting on their asses and the purity of creation, spirit nations representing nature in the most splendid arrangement of leaves, branches, rocks, flowers, trickling water, clouds, sky, and sand. a band apart from the norm, the balance of walking this fine line has seen me crashing into both sides, upsetting a flurry of space that i believe was all around me, but now see was only my inner landscape that i chose to project into the outer world to catch a better glimpse of what was going on inside my head. its good to have balance, but sometimes i become so forgetful that balance must often be maintained with a series of backflips, cartwheels, running, ducking, swimming, levitating, and moments of contorting yourself into a pretzel and remaining absolutely still.
if you haven't guessed already, i'm just inviting you to discard all the fear you have, to realize the empty space will be filled inside with warm, fuzzy, glowing radiance that is the fire that we all need to stoke. and i'm just reminding you that this is a process that needs to happen every moment and needs to be reconfigured to match each instant which is presented before you, cuz the same process ain't gonna cut it again... its the novelty of doing your dance in new skin, with patrick the sway-zee, dirty dancing all over the earth, covering yourself in mudd, charcoal, and leaves only to clean up and do it all over again. because we all know that the 'dirty' word is chemicals, lotions, and corporate made logos with which we decorate ourselves; that the clean is the pure sand, dirt, and debris which so prevalently exists in every crack and space between our concrete barriers trying to separate us from our true nature. all of these reminders are something you already know, i'm just reminding us cuz i forgot. i haven't heard you reminding me in a while, and i know its not your duty to remind me, you've got a million other more important things to do... but i AM reminding you as a reminder to hip somebody else to the notion of the necessary swim in the ocean of spirit, to wash off ego and fear and look into every mirror your encounter to see what it has to show you.
i'm a love-slut. i'm here to pimp out my love in every way i can, consciously spreading my spirit and not my physical body, though that seems to be in high demand, too. and what can i say, when you are in the mind of love, spiritually leading your body to dance for the pleasure of others, you produce this mojo that can't help but be tasted and enjoyed. i'm here for you, in the same way you're here for me; each of us an intricate part of the swirling fractal of infinity. call on me in your times of need, your times of greed, and those times where you are too much in your heed. thank you for all that you provide to this earth. the ancestors smile upon you and encourage you to walk in a good way. play like you're three years old, cuz that, my friend, is the secret to watch life unfold...
smooches, hugs, and a gentle slap upon your ass to move you in the right die-erection,
glowin' tower of love,
the mountain rion swimming upon dolphinity
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