The Tale of Ten Horse Woman (complete with ending) | Impromptu Promptlings.
Most excellent work!
The Tale of Ten Horse Woman (complete with ending) | Impromptu Promptlings.
Most excellent work!
“Her song called me to her, and she gave me water and happiness.” Beautiful work by a friend of mine. Her work is magical. Stop by and see for yourself!
via Ten Horse Woman (help with the last line?) | Impromptu Promptlings.
I got this for my birthday this weekend. It was a precious gift. (Not the carving but the words)
His eyes are a darker brown, although they look black sometimes
They are covered with skin, his eyelids
They resemble his Native American ancestry – Dark brown or tanned
Springing forth from his brownish eyes and tanned skin is black hair
Though it is the same as his black eyelashes, it is a little different
The rest of his hair has gray brought on by age, kids, finances, stress, worrying, fighting, and mistakes
I like his hair, gray and black
I like the things he used to tickle me with as a child so long ago, his eyelashes
I makes him, Him
His tall, formally lanky figure intimidates some but to me it is familiar
His crooked smile that was passed down to me – That is Home
His warm creative soul is why I am who I am today
This is who I call Dad
This is who others call Mr.
This is who God calls child
He is a man
He is my dad
He is a child
He is me
Baby cries
Bumblebee bumbles
Murmured conversations
Intermittent laughter
Fresh cut grass
Chair rocks
Breathe in, slow deep
Exhale
Siren, ambulance rushes
Watch it pass
Breathe in, slow deep
Exhale
Chair rocks
Thinking of thinking
Let it go
Memories, feelings arise
Observe them
Let them go
Heart slows
Breathe
Anxiety exhaled
Not me
Sadness on the wind
Blows over me
Not me
Let it go
See the motion
Watch from stillness
Enlightenment
No
But it is better than crazy as a run over dog
I wrote a little thing about Oz this morning and it started a conversation with my buddy about the Witch, what it was and how to deal with Her. I had mentioned that laughing in the presence of the witch tends to diminish her power. She takes herself very seriously. Was thinking about what I meant. In that can be quite verbose at times, I will attempt to be brief. To that end, we shall attempt a definition using normal people words. They have more power than the ones learned in school. Then on to a real life example.
The witch would be any relationship, person, or event that has been experienced, interpreted, and re-experienced again and again in a negative, shaming, belittling fashion. Also included in the description would be an experience of feeling powerless in the presence of what it feels to be larger than life with unquestioned power. The sense of being enthralled or held hostage. Like a spell had been cast and was continually seeking to recapture the object of the witch’s attention. This sets up a pattern of relating based on fear and avoidance of anything that remotely resembles or stirs feelings brought on by the event. Counter measures are employed and designed to conceal and protect the soul. Patterns are established that are repeated on the material plane and in relationships. These forces are the whirlwind that takes sleeping Dorothy or Don into the land of Oz.
Note that I am not thinking about the actual historical event or person, but rather the interpretation of the experience which then is projected onto the screen of a person’s experience. That projection creates a temporary sense of safety and distance between the person and the event, but in that it is “out there,” it begins to take on “supernatural” powers. And the illusion of security depends on avoiding the witch. In a similar way as the school teacher and the betrayal by Dorothy’s folks became the Witch which fueled the action in Oz. Shame drives the action. The nature of the spells and counter spells keeps Dorothy connected to the witch. And try as she might her attempts to avoid still bring her into contact with her dread. Soul knows that the only way to break these spells is to face the witch.
There are many horrible, and some not as horrible things, that can happen to people. I have the occasion to hear many stories and witness the struggle of souls with what has happened and their projections and interpretation of it. It can be heart wrenching to witness and remain connected during this process. One of the most powerful of these spells is the sacrifice of sexual abuse. There is a weird transaction that seems to take place. The !@#$%$$!!! puss drinking !##^&*($ers seem to be able to transfer all of their self-loathing and doubt weakness into an innocent soul. For a moment or two they are able to reverse, relieve, over power their tragic pitiful existence at the altar of innocence. They call it PTSD but I call it dark witchcraft. This ritual leaves its victim under the spell that they are loathsome and dirty and wrong and somehow guilty of the sins of the world. Their identity merged with the conjurer. These undead predators feed like vampires. This practice is as old as people; still present in all levels of society. It is part of the broader control system.
I was talking with a young lady. She presented as tough, not giving a shit about anybody or anything. I spoke with her several times, and eventually she began to tell me of her concern. I began to understand the spell of protection she was trying to cast on others. What I have learned, is that if I sit still long enough, the spell loses its power and even gets boring after a while. One day she came to see me and seemed different, her without the protective incantation. She was no longer a thirty year old in a sixteen year old body. She told me of her fears. She told me of the abuse. She told me of the pain. She told me of the feelings held inside for fear of being utterly rejected by the universe. Even that was a spell. I recognized my impulse to comfort her, to excuse her behavior. that too can be a line with a hook in it. My response when I am sane is not to comfort or judge, but just say “then what happened?”. She began to tell me of the dread she felt loathing to testify in court about what had happened.
I went a new way with her. I set the stage. The jury. The district attorney. The judge. The defense team with the perp there. The courtroom filled with family and onlookers, even the newspaper. I suggested she ask to make a statement there in front of him– in front of everyone. I said that she should stand up and say that she was not sure if there was actual penetration because his little projectile was so small, and that it had a strange shape which resembled an inchworm with a turtleneck on. Something amazing happened. She laughed! She laughed loud and long. The spell was broken! It did not erase the historical event, but it broke the spell. She began to see. She began to remember that she is not what happened to her. She is eternal; soul untouchable. She laughed in the presence of the witch and the bitch melted. It was fun. We laughed till we cried. Stay Groovy!