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“Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic.”
– Martin Luther King, Jr.

With love all things are known. With love, your beauty shines. With love, all that you have feared will fall away. With love, you shall rise up, a mighty priestess, ready to take on the mantle of your power. Without love, there is cowardice. Without love, there is fear. Without love, there is oppression. Without love, no justice shall be found.

We must now walk in love. This love includes fierceness, strength, and joy. This love includes a sacred defense of what we feel is right. This love means we stand up for ourselves and we learn to stand together, because brothers and sisters, there is trouble in the world.

There have always come times of trouble… Troubled times bring with them huge amounts of energy: the energy of pain, hatred, anger, the energy of cosmic re-alignment, and the energy of change. We can use this energy to fuel our practice, to fuel our commitments, to fuel our vision, and to fuel our dedication. With this energy, we can light the fires of love, becoming beacons to each other. With this energy we can carry the warmth of succor and of inspiration.

What will we choose to do with the emotions and energies of the hardships so many of us are facing? How – Today. Right now – can we choose to invoke love in all its forms?

In these times, there are those who are attempting to steal power without love. Let us counter this energy with love and power, joined. Let us counter this with the supporting hands of sisters and brothers, the juicy lust of lovers, and the open hearts of friends.

This week, those who can, celebrate the birth of Krishna, God of Love in all its forms, The teachings tell us that he was also the God who inspired us to necessary battles, and inspired us in our soul’s duty.

When love takes the reins of power, we become an unstoppable force. Let us carry love into every battle we encounter. Let our beauty inspire millions.

M27

How long ago? The core of a star ceased combusting… And it changed in form, peeling layer by layer, ever outward in a dance of heat and light. If we gaze hard enough, and far enough, we can see it still, some 1,000 years and on.

When the core of you ceases in it’s rumbling, when your heart stops in it’s booming, pressing, flow, what in you will move outward, and for how many years will the power of your life be ever felt, seen from some far distance, through the waves of space and time?

Live today as though you are a still combusting stellar thing. Live today as though what you do, and think, and, see, and feel, continues. Impermanence is not the thought that nothing matters, but rather, the thought that we can each leave beauty in our wake.

Will we collapse upon our fear, and greed, and hatred, or explode outward in a rush of love, and bravery, and grace?

Have a glorious day, you shining beings.

Opening the Mystery

From Thorn's personal files. Takenin Melbourne.
Patheos has a series of articles and posts up under the topic “The Future of Pagansim” with entries by too many writers to mention here, but containing pieces by Helen Berger, Kenaz Filan, Ellen Evert Hopman, and Christopher Knowles.

My article on initiation, “Opening the Mystery” – which was previously published in Thorn Magazine (no relation) – is included. I hope you enjoy the food for thought and that you continue to think along with all of the Patheos writers, within your own cohort and with us on the ‘net.

I thank Star Foster and the others from Patheos Pagan Portal for putting this series together. Fora such as these are important to our intellectual and theological growth.

Have a blessed day.


Fire brings sorrow to desire.

Sometimes I am so on fire with love of the world, that there seems nothing to do but grieve. I ache with a deep understanding, the comprehension of what Gurdjieff called “the terror of the situation.” We must come to know ourselves. We must come to love ourselves. We must come to love each other. There arises in us a deep respect when we allow love to enter. There is greater impetus for movement when we allow the fire of will and desire to meet the grief that we usually see as a watery thing… But sometimes grief can cut right through to the core of things. It can burn away the extraneous and leave us standing, naked, in front of what is truly important. We are all we have. This life is as good as it gets for now. What choices are we going to make if we are not looking to blame or to be rescued?

Call up that fire, in the midst of your great sorrow, let the fire move you forth. When we allow our sorrow to inform is, and we meet this with the fire of will, we can move mountains. Grief does not have to cave us in. The deep sorrow of the understanding of the human condition can give us exactly the compassion necessary to do the work we are most called to do. And for those of us still waffling, it can make clear what that work is, finally. No excuses anymore. There is this task on front of us. The world is waiting.

When we allow ourselves to be on fire for something – when we risk that great emotional Exposure- we finally find our full engagement, which is what our heart and soul have been waiting for. We do it. We just do it. No turning back.

Fire. Sorrow. What can these two things teach us? They teach us that we can feel. They teach us that we can know. They teach that what is important to us is the thing that can move us forward, rapidly, rather than holding us back. Fire, coupled with sorrow, shows us that sorrow doesn’t have to be a thing we sink into, rather it can be the thing that makes us finally say, “Yes, this!” or perhaps, “Enough!”

[Photo (c)Tomo.Yun]

Sometimes I wish humanity was wiser… and sometimes we are. Sometimes we are able to step through our blind emotions and into deeper healing, such as the Truth and Reconciliation process that the great Nelson Mandela used to help the world see that the husbanding of rage was not the answer to the healing of the deep wounds of apartheid, violence, and oppression. Sometimes, however, that wisdom seems quite distant.

This morning I found myself feeling anger over the triumphalism and sense of entitlement that allows a certain group of people to insist that a mosque not be built in New York City, in the neighborhood of the fallen World Trade Center. Not on the site itself, but two blocks away. I found myself feeling anger over the racism that underpins this – that erupts in cases such as the surrounding of two Coptic Christians at the protest, who were assumed to be Muslim and told to ‘go home!’

So I went upstairs to meditate. I watched the fog blanketing the hills, and saw a little boy playing with a dog. Settling in, I called up Kether. Immediately the words came, “It does not matter.” In the light of pure connection, all of the anger went away and the insight that opened beneath it was this: “These people are hurt and frightened.” And so were the people who flew the airplanes into the Twin Towers. We are hurt. We are frightened. We see a world we do not agree with nor understand. We lash out. We seek to take control, not realizing that until we take control inside, control outside is ever out of reach and simply manifests in use of force.

And the cycles continue.

So, still breathing with the fog from off the San Francisco Bay, I hold the world in my heart today. Let us be angry. Sometimes anger is the goad to realization and to justice. Let us feel fear. Sometimes fear points to deeper understanding. Let us also try, however, to not get caught up in self-righteousness and entitlement. These are the things that separate us, from ourselves and from each other, sometimes for generations. These are the things that begin martyrdom, pogroms, and crusades, and the lesser jihad of suicide terrorism. Let us battle the forces within, rather than seeking to always place them outside of ourselves. Let us take this moment now to look in the mirror and see what is reflected there.

In New York City, right now, even the idea of the mosque holds up a mirror to our culture. The reflection is neither pretty nor comfortable. We all need to look into that mirror, and see what emotions are present in the eyes that gaze back. Until we look upon ourselves, we cannot clearly see another.

There is danger in the world. But the largest danger comes from our own hearts and minds.

“A man will renounce any pleasures you like but he will not give up his suffering.”
– G. I. Gurdjieff

We become so attached to our stories, we can fail to see the sun rise as we huddle together in the cold, or we can miss the oasis in our burning desert. Times are difficult, brothers and sisters, and only going to get worse, from the looks of it. There are forces at work well beyond our personal control, and yet, we are part of life, and we contribute to the larger story as well. Can changing our relationship to our inner story shift our relationship to war, unemployment, food crises, floods and famines? Yes. It does not change the outer reality all the way, of course – we are but one small part of the great whole – but even a small change inside can make a difference. We can stop clinging to our version of the story, take a breath, look around ourselves and ask, “How can I act today?”

What helps us with this change? In the hero’s journey, supernatural aid is offered. Supernatural aid, in myth and fiction, is often quite dramatic. In ordinary life it is not always so. Sometimes supernatural aid is help that is inspired, perhaps, by something that is extraordinary, but other times it seems deeply ordinary, deeply natural… we just failed to notice it before. Perhaps then, it is our ability to notice that is touched by divine forces, by something special, by something that lifts our eyes from the suffering of our story for just one moment, so we can see the sky.

Shifts in consciousness don’t always take a cosmic two by four. Sometimes they take a dragonfly moving through the air, or a child’s laugh, or a friend saying just the right thing that snaps us to attention. Sometimes they are brought by the appreciation of a simple glass of water, or the feel of a breeze on our faces, or catching a particular piece of music. The important thing is our ability to receive.

Many of us know the story of the person trapped during flooding, who prays for divine assistance. A strong person offers to carry them out, then, as the water rises, a canoe comes by, finally when they have climbed up to the roof, a helicopter… the person refuses all, waiting for God. God, of course, was in all of these, the person simply failed to pay attention. The person was trapped in a story of suffering, and part of that was the need to feel so special in her suffering that only a dramatic supernatural rescue would suffice.

What ordinary things can bring us back to attention? What can help us see our stories? Take a breath with me, and look within. There is something else present, beneath the tales we tell. There is a living spark awaiting the bellows, ready to catch the fire of our interest, ready to bring warmth and comfort where it is needed. There is a drop, ready to become the refreshing draught, to quench our thirsty longing.

Today, I will strive to pay attention to the miracles that are happening all around me. I like that phrase, “pay attention” it means that there is payment involved. That payment is in my effort to remain open when I might otherwise wish to shut down. That payment is my presence when I might rather run away. That payment is morning meditation that helps me remain centered enough to notice in the first place. That payment, luckily, is rewarded by my connection to that spark, that drop, that bit of light in the dark field of my being. It is my beacon home to my Self, and becomes a lamp for my journey.

Let us hold up lanterns for each other.

[Speaking of journeys, I send blessings to our brother Isaac Bonewits as he traverses the great beyond. May he and his family be blessed.]

(The Hermit is from the Cosmic Tribe Tarot.)

On Empire and Kisses

“The price of kissing is your life…” – Mevlana Rumi

There is a cost for everything: loving, not loving, oil, guns, greed, laughter, sharing food with friends, driving kids to soccer practice, school, no school, backyard chickens, factories, ants hard at work, no ants at all, war, no war, the argument, no argument, that kiss, no kiss, sunshine, rain, drought, seeds, people, airplanes, telephones, computers, turning soil, tea, flannel sheets, running water, practice, no practice, bodies, health, sickness, red wine, mango juice, glass windows, central air, heat like a wet blanket on skin, pollen, wasps, ripe apples, music… life.

“Let’s not try to figure out everything at once.”

We are in trouble, and perhaps have always been. He asked me, “Why this struggle?” and I replied, “Because this is how we learn.”

Are we? Will we? Do we?

Let us keep trying. Together. Let us fail, again and again. Let us. This is how we learn.

What is success? Getting up again. Teaching each other to waltz as empire fades. The only perfection is now. Regrets? Get up again. Triumph? Do the same. Every action is just that: an action. Meaning is the threaded story of our lives.

I love you. That’s a risk I’m willing to take. Even when I feel I don’t even like you, or even know you: even when you are a politician or multinational CEO, so easy now to blame. I’ll keep getting up again. Trying to wake up to what feels basic and true. Despite economic decline, flooding, earthquakes, fire, people starving, bats dead on cave floors, jet fuel spewing, oysters gone… still, we shall make music. Still we shall make love. Still, we shall risk knowing.

Let us think together, and choose what price we are willing to pay. Today.

[This post is dedicated to my friends, and to everyone else struggling to show up.]

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