SOC Writing _ 1.7.21

Swallow me whole

Like a bird eating anything – down the gullet – straight in – fully and completely committed. Thats how I am. How I intend to be – fully in – and fully surrendered to this life coursing through me. All night long I vigiled for myself with the sroom and swooned it did over my body – in my eyes – hands, feet – the marking of a good ritual were everywhere – you arrived at my side like a dark crow – like a vestige of a Bill Hammond painting – quiet with maybe a fluttering of wings – and it all was magic – the candles – the smells - the soundscape carrying me through – as the curator and journeyer – the shaman of my own experience. Having to at one time clear out energy that was not belonging to this – my ritual of the natural world. There is nothing other than this matter - this temple of myself that I worship in – the quadrants of my heart – my being that are being worshiped in – you -  a constant flitting image as the night cuts across the shapes and colours – as gravity bid me down – pulled me in as if to say – stay put – be silent – do not move and let me tell you a story of how we all began – a universe story to break the ones of the personal and the dramas that play out with your friend the cacao sailor. He is not wrong – you are not wrong – but you have been paying attention and moving towards what the body wants – wild and wilful you remain even as this body entwines with everybody in the spirit ether – in the plane of heart sky fungi magic. It is over too soon and our lights carry on through the night while I toss and turn thinking of these women – of the right side and the left and how my love deserves not to be taken away from either. This becoming of awareness to the earth – of the shamanic call – and the ritual making instinct is a love of my whole body turned on truth, awareness – out of control in the field of spirits and daemons – but well and truly at home in myself, my temple and those – like you my love, I create space to breath and dance with.