Open Love Letter To Patriarchy.

Dear Sirs and the majority of Madams,

I ask I beseech and bow on bended knee,
Please...
How have you let it get this far?
How is it that you cannot see
That your actions, thoughts and mindlessness
Are NOT building humanity?

Your philosophies, or lack of them
Are not supportive, protective of our Planets' precious cargo.
Whether it is ithe caring for the trees,
Or the provision of safery for your women and children,
Or indeed the bony brow beaten broken chests of yourselves

Can you not see that your waging of wars
Your obsession with 'more'
Takes into no account
That everything and yet nothing is actually Ours?

NO! you have chosen to be limp and flaccid
In your bravissimo banal attempts
Full of lies and deception
Empty oratory
Bred from the imbalance of your heart.

How is it that you have dared,
Over and over and yet over again,
To rock the boats of our safety?
Had the gall to return us to our leaky vessels
To treacherous seas when we finally, flaillingly
Reach safe shores for one mere morsel of a moment?
Is it because of your own petty selfish and unaswered discontent?

Can you not see that on your watch we lie more frail,
Weakened and depleted.
A death mask, a carcass of our truth
Thrown casually to one side?

I protest when you claim your escrow is to protect,
To provide and buffer us from harm.
In the name of personal paltry pernicious desire
For the sorry sake of pretence and losing face
You put us all at risk.
Every single one of us;
Every man, every woman, every child,
Every plant, every beast.

I used to think that if you rested enough
If I fed you well, mopped your brow,
Tended to you with tenderness
You would waken fresh, soft and clear.
But as you lay snoring
I wept. I knew
We became weaker.
Where did that true warrior go?
Why did you leave without so much as a note
On our fresh pressed pillow?
Where and when did you learn to put intellectual principle
Before real flesh and bone
Love and life?
What gave you the right to leave me to mop up all this mysoginist mess?

Your convoluted ideals more warped over time
Leave us with a sorry withered version of thier initial self.
An aneorexic example, clothed in the finest faux fashions of our day.
The moustaches, the beards all
Clever costumes which hide the lying lips,
The chins and faces of imposters
Those who would trick you in to an allegory of deciet disguised as love,
Posing as passion, appearing as honour.

I ask of the Masculine to disrobe
To shave, to un-slave
Us all from the stories that have kept
Death and drudgery alive,
That put blocks and blinders on our eternal right to thrive.

When will you awaken from your soporific slumber,
From your drugged out half baked brains
Which swim in a soup of no soul?
When will you stop handing out pretty palcebos
Pressed from an ethic that has no heart?

I want to rise up and slap your stupid face
And show the gifts you persistently choose to ignore.
The gift of a child who carries your name
That you forget looks to you for guidance but more for love
Who worships the very ground you walk upon.

I want to remind you of the treasure of that woman
Who lies with you night upon night,
Who sacrifices her beautiful body.
She who has likely been torn apart,
Ripped into a million pieces
So you can experience a new life born to be cherished
So rare a peice of Spirit transformed into Matter
In the caring crucible of her warm womb.

Explain to me. Please do.
What is so much more important than the protection and glory of that?

What career?
What piece of land?
What culture, creed or Holy Book warrants more attention
Than the God who lies crying in a dismal cot
In a dark room of a cold hearted creche,
Or bombed out village?

I fail to understand your ways now.
I have tried.
I have given you every benefit of doubt,
I have silenced the inner sanctum of my Self; my most potent intuition.
I taped up my mouth
Muffled countless screams, pangs of passion and
Retreated to the once jewelled cave of my Divine Femininity
For what?!
To allow you to remain asleep?
To permit you to think that politcal programs
Forged from Ego are the answer?
To let you perpetuate the myth that there are special people,
Leaders, more perfect than you or I
Who will set us free?

Are you even ever present to the joy and peace our own small hearth brings?
Are you ever vaguely aware of the invisible, invincible energy
Each act of home-making brings?
Are you oblivious to the vital sense of belonging, the fragrance of security that
My small hands, tiny feet and huge heart work endlessly to create?
So numbed to the energetics of Creation are 'we',
To the fact that we are one Being expressed in 7 billion ways.


From one sail we are all fashioned.
Each individual a shard of glass
Built to catch the Light
Which we send on into all of existence
To shine, to brighten each day,
Each moment.

That thicker skin you possess
That extra muscle and budding brawn you carry,
Is not present to protect you in battles.
It is your gift, your treasure
To use.
To keep the cold from our Collective Heart.

This misguided Masculine needs to stop and take stock.
It needs to sit, be silent and listen.
No more oratory.
No more propaganda.
No more fear mongering.
No more lies disgused as some elusive truth.
It needs not to run rallies
Or march or protest.
It does not need to defend,
For there is nothing out there other than Us.

Let me strip you bare.
Let me see you walk naked with your sanctimonious Self.
Without your Parlimentarian Papers,
Without your heel spurs and swords
Without your clever speech
Without those Holy Books you hide behind.
Without your fancy suits
And well stocked bank accounts
Without your cigarettes and whiskey
Without your cricket boxes, pads and guards.

Let me take you out of glass walled buildings which stand
Imposing, penile and tall above us all.
Let me bring you down to the place where I live
Amongst the soil and flowers
Where the ants of amore bite my tender toes.
Come sit with me
In the flow of my menstrual blood
That fed you ALL.

Let me show you how the feed this hallowed ground beneath your feet.
Let me help you seep into our Earth
To find your roots and true strength there.
Put your hands upon my face
Close your eyes and feel my skin
Breathe the sweet air I expel
Travel down my tender neck
Touch my breasts
Feel the fullness, the abundance, the force of  all Life
Always there.

Feel how I feed the soul with soft embrace
How my love when stripped back to its barest bones
Is unconditional.
Sit at my feet and listen carefully to the wailing whispers
Carved from my special shortened vocal chords
That will sing lullaby
To nourish every cell, every imagined embryo.

Please I beg on bended knee
From my most servile place
Please stop this pointless pillage
This impotent pretence,
This play, this staged, stooge filled situation.
I can see your scam in every man
In every woman and sorrowfully now in every child.

This is the global health care we truly crave
The salve, the balm.
The treachourous torturous illnesses that ravage our
Hills, our plains, deserts and cities
Stem from one deadly virulent virus;
A lack of Heart.

The most potent of all vaccines is love
And its cousin, compassion.
No strain of bacteria can survive a clear and open heart.
No war, no battle no soap box speech
No policy, no intellectual discourse can protect us
Like the touch,
Like the look of,
Like the surrender to love.

Your ways are not safe.
It is not protection.
It is not manly Manhood.
It is madness!

Dear Sirs and the majority of Madams.
I ask, I beseech and bow on bended knee
Please....
How can you not see
That your current actions, thoughts and mindlessness
Are NOT building humanity.

Yours Sincerely and with love.

Move Over Tolle!

Just for fun. "Channeled" (with tongue firmly fixed in cheek) by the Divine Feminine.

Want to lose your Ego? Ascend? Grow your Spirit?



No need to read Ekhart Tolle, sign up for yoga, join an ashram, study Vedanta or follow a guru. 

Become a full time stay at home mother. 

    

The Self gets put in its place automatically.



You clean up a lot of crap "inside" and out.



Go to places you have never been (and don't really want to).



You spend all night up "awake".



You hook out of the 'external" forever (you don't know what a CV means anymore, in fact in this paradigm of 'experience" yours would pretty much be empty).



There is no danger of applause, accolade, being hypnotized by money, fat salaries or potential promotions.



Most of the time you have to just BE because you are too tired or otherwise occupied to engage in any dreams of DOING!

You have to find creative ways to find your freedom, usually this means realizing its a state of mind.



The only way to improve your Self Esteem is by acceptance; acceptance of who you are as you ARE (usually in a slight state of disrepair and/or despair), and acceptance that this is IT..it doesn't get better than this even if 'this' isn't what you expected or desired.

You find inner peace/make peace with what Is.



Most importantly you have to ditch the idea of good and bad, wrong and right; duality.

Being a full time mum will toss all idealism out of the window. 

It's likely that holding on to be-lie-fs you were brought up with won't work any more because for the sake of Unity and peace you'll have to learn to go with the flow and lose judgment forever.



See?  Now you are "there" full of "unconditional LOVE!"



To top it off you really get used to acknowledging and accepting that life just IS as it IS!

Are we there yet? 

Always and never. 

There you have it 101 of Spiritual Mastery.

Ego dissolved (lying dismantled in some random cobwebby corner along with the dog hair and un-paired socks).

"Ascended" in one fell swoop (well maybe a few decades) and.. The Spirit has grown.....up! (Yours and Thiers).


Move over Tolle.......

Lily and the Blah-niks: Dark Moon Lilith in Cancer.

Dark Moon Lilith is the point in the heavens of the empty focus of the Moon's elliptical orbit around the earth.  She is the power of the unsaid, the potency of silence; of secrets too long kept. 
  


As Dark Moon Lilith, the symbol of the wild free energy that does not like to feel tamed or contained is triggered there can be a surge of energy, a remembering of of injustices and imbalances.  

As Lilith moves into Cancer many women in particular, may find that the way they respond emotionally ramps up. In addition the intuitive and psychic tendencies characteristic to this sensitive sign may also escalate. 

Basically you get more "crabby!"


The sudden urge to defend oneself against emotional or physical intrusion might (will) rise causing confrontation and discomfort for the Mother/Sister/Wife archetype within.

Grace and acceptance might just leave the building.. just for a very little while .

Now is the time to allow yourself the space to really feel without judgement.  To avoid screaming matches, the throwing of plates and other dangerous missiles at your mate or any passing random stranger,it's useful to soften that crab shell and refrain from walking sideways.   


Sit strong in your vulnerability. It is a time to acknowledge any hurt or pain that have been your life long secret companions. Opening up this Can(cer) of worms  will not weaken you. Quite the opposite.  Allow the tears to fall and surrender to the mosaic that you are or better still go buy a new pair of shoes preferably of the high heeled kind.  Walk tall in your magnificence. Step up to the joy (and pain) of being Womb-an.  She is all powerful, she is strong and she's beautiful.

Lily and the Blahniks

Do I love my man and my children more than I love myself? Is this a good thing? I can cook up scrumptious meals just for them but find it as easy as the CIA catching Osama, to prepare, let alone eat, a meal that I either need or want. My desires went underground a long time ago, and I mean a long time ago when men walked around colossal stones in white nighties with big long beards. 

 

The Eve in all of us is still ashamed of that apple malarkey if it ever did really exist, and being a woman of conscience she still punishes herself on a daily basis. Really get over it Eve! It was a long time ago and its time to let go. Get yourself some therapy girl. Any good shrink will tell you its unhealthy to fester in the sweat of your own guilt. Think gilt not guilt. Think gold- repeat after me “I am gold” 

Throw away the fig leaf and buy some Manolo Blahniks or if that makes your sustainable blood curdle, a hemp skirt will do. Eat a whole, free range if you like, chicken, tuck into a bowl figs and luscious Greek yoghurt drizzled with honey (you can keep the fig leaf for those nudge, nudge, wink saucy moments). I mean what is the deal Eve? Go find your buddy Lilith (Eves' twin sister) and be bad for a day. Head into town and rip it up. Your "bad" probably means not doing the washing or getting a take away for dinner, or more naughtily maybe you won’t vacuum this week. Oooh, oooh , an inch of dust rather than half of one- Agggh- we’re all scared out of our hole proof undies!!!

Lilith might tell you its OK to take a break. She’ll start training you to be free. She’ll probably introduce you to a voice coach who will show you how to get that choked up, annoying squeak that turns into something of a whine when you don’t get heard, into a melodic, alto that runs off your tongue like the sound of a crystal clear waterfall.

Lily, as we will call her affectionately, will book you into a 5 star establishment, order you a mans’ portion of steak and chunky chips (room service of course), draw the black out curtains and tuck you in for the sleep of a life time.

Six days later (she too rests on the 7th) she’ll wake you from your slumber, run a bath for you and leave you there until you are scrubbed clean of your original sins. After that she will hoist you out of your comfort zone. Your bra will be tossed in the bin and she’ll help you drape cloth around your body that would put Givenchy to shame. She’ll take you by the hand and march you to the nearest ATM. One look from her glaring eyes will send you into submission and you’ll withdraw cash, equivalent to a mere single contribution you have made to the mortgage, kids, food shopping and SUV that lies in your garage. Your faltering fingers will be steadied by her piercing gaze as she reminds you of the 2400 other pay cheques and unpaid labour you have put into the account over the past 20 years, "None of it really spent on you my dear!" she'll say sarcastically.

 Lily seems to be a bad influence, a friend you could do without doesn’t she? She’s the kind of girl your mum warned you about; the wanton witch who can lead you astray. Actually she is your best friend. Be brave. Get to know her. She's actually is the part of you that you have forgotten, have no memory of and Lily really loves you...and shoes.

Testosterone

Testosterone has a lot to answer for. I am a feeble, floundering sole female in an all male household. As they all grow up (debatable) I am increasingly aware that the air is thick with this gun toting, hairy hormone.

The atmosphere if left on its own for more than a few hours feels like the fur on a dogs back that has been stroked the wrong way, all on edge and spiky. We cannot as a family, sit down to a lovingly prepared meal with out at least one of the other three “boys” (and that is what they are and what they will remain) sniping about something or the other. As the 10 minute enforced civilized sit down disintegrates, tweety bird chests expand and the fight over which bits of roast lamb are ‘theirs’ or which potatoes have their names stamped on them becomes unbearable. The subversive tactics employed to hide a few green beans could be better utilized in a career in the SAS. For a sex that claims to be the stronger, the sight of a bit of fat on an offending piece of meat sends them into a girly flat spin.

 My teenage ninja mutant first born loudly proclaimed last night, he didn’t like to “forage” for his lamb amongst bones and a bit of fat. “What have I given birth to?” I thought. "It’s all gone wrong- we’ve gone from hairy mammoth hunters to lazy, spoilt Neanderthals!"

 I struggle to bite my forked estrogenic tongue and try not to point out that it took me nigh on two hours to prepare this clearly unacceptable meal. However I was brought up to be a lady and my female heritage predisposes me to an uncanny and unnatural capacity for keeping my mouth shut. Perhaps it is a way of keeping that godforsaken evil apple, which haunts our sisters’ psyches, at arms length.

There is nothing like a nice piece of soothing music to help your dinner go down but when I conceived my two boy children and bequeathed my body and soul to that handsome lad from down the road I was unaware that the predominant background symphony would be nothing more than a consciously composed backing track of belching and farting in F major. To sit at a table and endure this daily, cannot but help bring forth a counter rage. It’s called PMS (post marital stress or pissed off mothers stress), lasts a whole month and is undoubtedly the hormonal bottling up of complete disbelief and horror that such an opposite species actually exists.

I made the grandiose mistake of taking some time out last Saturday.

Anyone would have thought I had deserted troops in Iraq. Exhausted and fully fed up with the monotony of weekend chores I retired to bed, leaving my manly trio with a wide-eyed, high eye browed look on their faces.

The fact that I had actually drawn the curtains and got into bed rather than sheepishly pass out for three seconds on the sofa whilst waiting in the wings for the muffins to be ready, seemed to shock them in to a few moments of being able to walk without leaving echoing footprints or demanding food. But within 10 minutes we were all back to normal and the kerfuffle in the kitchen resumed. Cupboard doors opened and shut with alacrity and I counted the fridge had been opened and shut about 12 times in as many minutes. “ Boy vision” had returned and I was being whispered at for culinary advice or the GPS of homework that was “lost”. The elder (but not always wiser) of my three boys, my husband, enthusiastically set about preparing a "best ever" dinner but “checked’ in on me three hundred times for step by step instructions until my progesterone depleted rage directed him to that same cupboard which had already been opened and shut 7 times, where a barrage of good cook books lay, which had in print what I have in my overburdened head.

All you good women know the outcome of this story don’t you? It’s all too freaking familiar. I now know why our planet and politics are in such a mess.

Too much testosterone!

It knows nothing of order, of beauty, of negotiating without war, of acting before disaster strikes. I left my intelligent brood for a few hours and our house is adorned with wet towels and bathers left casually slung on dining room chairs. Empty wrappers of food that have no nutritional content, grace the coffee table in front of the TV that wastes our precious energy as it blabs away to an empty room. The dishwasher is half stacked and on. The dog is going stir crazy because she hasn’t had a walk. Attempts at domesticity are evident- the ironing basket sits proudly in full view of who ever might walk in but oddly it’s still full. The energy is flat and flaccid, dull and dreary, devoid of a special kind of love and conscience that only a woman who has embraced a true feminine essence can replace.

By feminine essence I don’t mean the frilly pink kind. I speak of an energy that is used to saying ‘yes’ more than no’, one that works tirelessly to create safety and harmony; one that works from instinct and pure love, one that’s strong but always soft.

 It’s a shame we sometimes feel like a well-known toilet paper though isn’t it? Take heart girls, the world would literally be a shitty place without us!