Ancestral Prayers

I’ve been sitting with this “child,” this poem, for several days now. I’ll tell you why: because I am going through deep regeneration and all its phases, both with a professional (yet spiritual) guide and on my own. I am cleaning house, and it’s turned out to be more of a neighborhood or a city or a whole universe within. I’ve been “working” on inner shadows for many, many years. But recently, several factors seem to be in league with my soul to hasten the release of all that no longer serves me, and the corresponding freedom, awareness, and new ways of BEing that this release provides. One, the Age of Aquarius and its correlating technological advances that connect us all on a global level with an attitude of oneness and equality; two, recent developments  and support of amazing astrological events happening at “warp” speed; and three (for now), epigenetics, which is the synthesis of science and spirituality. Epigenetics is a powerful word for that which has been known by deeply spiritual beings for millennia, but is now being proved by scientists and its healing work being developed for all of humanity.

My poetry reflects many aspects of my life, my thoughts, and my inner being. Ancestral Prayers is one that moves me; it is my form of religion, I suppose, to write poems such as these. As with all religions (including the label of “spirituality,” that is so diverse), answers are not always forthcoming, or even expected. Just to pray, just to be a poet and say what is in my heart or my soul, IS the expected result, if any exists.

Of course, I am talking about healing and yes, all of our prayers, tears, praise, songs, meditations, and creative soulwork: these are all healing vibrations stronger than any one moment of doubt or skepticism; stronger than any fear-based thought or even millions of them.

It is my hope or rather, my belief that I am being guided to share these words, for that’s what a poet does. It’s not always pretty, but I follow my intuition that says it will help others on their healing journeys as well. May you be blessed by the following:

 

Ancestral Prayers

 

I had to smudge today –
candles and sage and smoke flowing
over me inside my dreaming vision
of ancestors’ mysteries
of children lost and found
of children lost and never found

the path of ancient memories
clears within the smoke and light; I feel
the dust and scattered bones
beneath my knees bent
in grief and despair
ravens filling the air

with cries beware! beware!
of not understanding
what the gods themselves
do not understand

my thoughts pour
like rain that won’t stop
drowning out the messengers
turning dust into mud
losing prayers
like souls in the flood

I need to do something
I need to save someone
save someone
save someone

I need to save the children
like raven
who get abused and confused
whose home is a raft of bones
set adrift
from an indiscriminate shore

the parent I used to be is crying
the parent I always wanted to be
is crying
and why no one else is crying
frightens the child in me
even more…

blessed be dear raven
and all the others not yet found
who have no idea
that there is anything or anyone
beyond their world of having been
disposable.

Oh, God, forgive me
for thinking
that I need to be forgiven.

 

(C) 2013 Lady Diane Randall

Poem Inspired by “Amazing, Tiger, Power” (Photograph from Great Gatsby Luxury)

As you can tell, I love the photograph reblogged and seen on my previous post. Now, for the poem: It was inspired by a dream a dancer had about a tiger. I love to do dream analysis because… talk about metaphors! Our minds dream in metaphors and parables. No wonder most people, even psychologists, don’t understand our dreams. I will discuss dream analysis in another post someday, as I even have a book in progress about the topic. At any rate, there are things that can be done after having an exciting or incomprehensible dream; Carl Jung called it “active imagination.” In other words, EXPRESS the dream through whatever creative means you like. This works for those who feel they have no creativity (although of course, we all do). It will help the dream to support the dreamer, because that is the sole purpose of dreaming: to shine a light on the shadows, the hidden fears, loneliness, etc. The things we will not say to ourselves. Sometimes, the dream offers solutions or shines a light on our inner power and love. With love, I introduce:


Dance of the Tiger

I watch you through the glass door pacing
and my heart begins to beat

hard
hard
hard

I pant like crazy
feel your heat fill the room

your massive strength pushes at the latch
and I try with all my might
to stop you – fear grips me

as I feel the sweat
of your face close to mine, the sound
of you
creeping into my blood
through my ears

In a flash, you’re inside
snarling
showing me your teeth
your eyes
your power

As I move, you move – gliding
in a circle, drawing me in

closer
closer
closer

and I’m so afraid – I can’t stop myself
from moving
can’t stop
can’t run
can’t scream

I feel my body shifting
in complete synchronicity: blood,
bone, and muscle
vibrating
with fierce exhilaration

my jaws open
my eyes burn

It comes – a low and muted growl
wells within me like a burgeoning storm
until it becomes a howl so loud

it breaks the glass! and I Am
I Am the Powerful One

You, Tiger – I, Tiger
dancing, great paws stomping
our thunderous roars
echoing
the pounding beat of our hearts

Lady Diane Randall

Amazing, Tiger, Power

My (abridged) comment to Great Gatsby Luxury who posted the above picture:

What raw, perfect animal power… to take that in, to feel it – not as a sense of violence, but as an instinctual sense of survival that probably evolved into or incites a sense of righteousness in the human realm. But, as in the animal world, who is right? Who is wrong? As human “beings,” we can inhale that power, feel it coursing through our “inner body” (Eckhart Tolle), and use it to create words, photographs, paint, dance; to express all that rages within until we integrate our experience with the whole of creation. As always, synchronicity abounds; through these metaphors, and especially the poem, one may deduce that I felt dis-empowered today (partly through actions of others, partly through my illusory need of reaction/response). Tiger medicine needs no petty quips to teach what it knows. It needs no overt display of power; it is the harmonizing of fearlessness and truth, that we need only to walk with our heads held high and live the Truth of our being, which is Love. And to those who cannot or will not see it, they have their paths to walk, albeit blind, angry, and deep down inside, afraid of everything. When the tiger roars, it usually wakes them (us!) up! 

PostScript: I seem to be having quite a time posting my new comment and poem onto this page, therefore, I shall make a new post which corresponds to this photograph posted by Great Gatsby Luxury (of WordPress fame!).  Thank you.

Copyright (c) 2005-2013
All rights reserved. Feel free to share this content
with others, but remain mindful to include the
name of the author (Lady Diane Randall a/k/a
Diane C. Randall) and any authors’ works reblogged
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Gatsby Luxury / lifestyle

Amazing, Tiger, Power

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Poem as Postscript to “What is Creativity?”

You may have read today’s earlier post, including a copy of my response to the above question posed by Talent Flush. I then felt the urge to post at least one poem that expresses my feelings about writing. This poem, Poetry, My Love, was originally published in 2005, in my book entitled, She of the Dreaming Sky, by Pearl’s Book ’em Publisher. However, two events caused the flame of this work to die down to a slow ember: One, the publisher was, at the time, changing direction in her efforts as both artist and inspiration. To whit: We sold about 35 copies, mostly to my mother and sister, plus a few friends. But whew, when I received that contract, oh… I cried. The fourteen-year-old inside me cried; a real publishing contract! At any rate, the other was the onset of my life-changing ms experience, which had been increasing its outward presence in me more and more by the time of publication. A few years later, my publisher graciously released me from the contract and returned all rights to me.

Therefore, I am pleased to present one poem that came from the inner depths of my ever-abiding love for poetry; in particular, the mystical experience of writing poetry:

POETRY, MY LOVE

She is Poetry
She is Truth
She is Love

Who else but Poetry leaves me
yearning at the page like a newly-kissed lover,
offering up my passionate pen
in return for her caress
behind my eyes
behind my lips
along my arms, my hands, my fingertips,
inside my heart?

Who else but Poetry entices me with the
language of ecstasy?
Who leads me into the liquid night of mystery?

She is Poetry
She is Truth
She is Love

She offers me a sky full of words
spilling out of a crystalline bowl,
drowning me in divine simplicity
until I become just a speck of light myself,
floating in the vastness of her womb,
waiting to be born.

Lady Diane Randall
(C) 2013

From She of the Dreaming Sky, by Diane C. Randall
Originally published in 2005
by Pearl’s Book ’em Publisher

ISBN: 0-9740520-9-4
Library of Congress: 2005907841
All rights remanded to the author, 2008

What is Creativity? (My response to a question from Talent Flush)

I’m following Talent Flush now, a WP group that shares art of all kinds through all their pages and sites, if one so desires – which I do! I’m finding my creative spark becoming, once again, a flame of desire, yearning, passion… and it is infinitely more satisfying than any fleeting moments of relief or distraction I have ever encountered. I know that now more than ever. Creativity is in all of us; when it is repressed, whether by internal or external forces, life becomes dull, conversations inane, fears and hatred reign. That is why we desire it so strongly, those of us who do. It can be our religion, if you will; our salvation, our resurrection from merely surviving to enjoying our own lives to their fullest. 

With that in mind, I present my response to Talent Flush’s question: “What is Creativity?”

 

Creativity is our birthright. It is the aspect of the Creator that we are birthed from, that is alive in all sentient beings. However, it is we human beings (“…spiritual beings having a human experience,” Pierre Teilhard de Chardin), who carry the same purpose – indeed, the same yearning – to create worlds from our imaginations. Everything is creation: from inception, through incubation and nurturing, to life, and then to decay and, ultimately, resurrection in another form. Creativity provides us with the ability to create that which can never decay: language, thoughts, pictures, colors, memories, emotions… and so much more. The forms (substance) may decay, but these creations live forever. Just as God does, just as We do.

There are those of us who are fortunate enough to be born with the energy of creativity more potent, more alive, within our hearts; it is we who “re-member” this at some point in our lives, whether early or late. We are the ones for whom creativity is as important as breathing. Somewhere in our psyches we recognize our inner Beloved, which is our creative partner, our spark. Everyone is born as this created being, but most of the world is so caught up in fear, noise, and need for distraction, that creativity is unrecognized within; unexpressed without.

It is those of us who express our creativity who uplift, encourage, incite, inspire, and yes, heal; who hold up the mirror of Life and ask, “What do YOU see?” That is creativity at its Highest Purpose. We “spiritual beings” have a great desire to connect on a soul and heart level with the entire Universe. Our ultimate purpose, whether on a grand scale or in a personal moment, is to toss the pebble into the pond and, through its ever-widening ripples, remind others how beautiful Life, in all its forms, truly Is.

(c) 2013 Lady Diane Randall

The Bride (My Entry to The Modern Faye Magazine)

Hello, fellow bloggers, poets, butterfly watchers (just saw one come up to my window!), et al! I feel happy that I accomplished a short-term goal of submitting a poem to The Modern Faye Magazine’s Annual Poetry Contest. I was introduced to LaFaye Art Studios/The Modern Faye Magazine through…WordPress, of course! They “liked” one of my poems. This year’s theme or guideline was to write a poem corresponding to a piece of very fine artwork. Used to be, I could cook up a poem based on art, a tarot card, or even a leaf falling outside, with no problem. For some reason, this took a little more effort. Perhaps it’s because I don’t write new poetry as easily or as often as I used to (although NaPoWriMo in April jolted me out of my comfort zone!). Believe me, I miss the old days when I just had to write a new poem, a few scribbles – anything. But, I digress. Just feeling a little wistful, I guess. 

I do want to write about “editing” poetry. With this submission, I felt the need to edit, and I was right. Made some good changes. But that begs these questions: Am I editing my work, or merely changing it? Where is the stopping point for editing? There are no answers to these questions. They come upon us as we are writing. They come up again when we decide to post or publish.

I had a difficult time of it in April, because I do feel some editing, or at least a review of the material, can be very helpful, especially a few days’ post-draft. I edit as I type; I re-type, reformat, highlight and delete (or move!) stanzas.

In the end, it’s all subjective. Just like life. Everyone’s perception is going to be different. Somehow the “good” (or “great?”) poets have learned a few basics along the way, and the rest is up to the soul of the writer, and the audience he or she attracts due to our innate universal harmonic connections. With that, I present:

 

The Bride

 

the day, perfect: sapphire sky
white windswept tresses
caressing eternity

the Bride
seeks refuge in the garden
her private retreat shadowed
by dark tresses, blue hydrangea;
she recalls Grandmother’s perfume

that’s the moment it shows

but only to this artist painting
this poet musing
no passing guest to witness
but, just now,
sullen eyes betray
Grandmother’s regret as her own

neither child nor innocent
as she was a day or lifetime ago
she just needs a moment

then back to Groom and reception

eyes sapphire bright

she goes

 

 

Lady Diane Randall (C)

The Great Gatsby: The Many Ways Spirit Speaks to Me

Dear Friends, Bloggers, Dreamers all…

I am having the most intriguing series of synchronicities – and I love it! I love it when Spirit finds a door that’s wide open in me and pours through me in wave after wave of imagery, messages from disparate places & people, dreams, etc… all to reveal what’s really going on deep within me and perhaps, with others in my life. I have so much to say, I hardly know where to begin. It’s that way with Spirit revelations…whoo! Because I want so much to heal my inner self, and I’m open, open to all that is Good, all that is Real, so that I can be available not only to myself but to those I love, and even, perhaps, to thinking of a future that, unlike Gatsby’s, does not end in Death, but in Rebirth; a new me, and yet the Real Diane. I’m thinking now how interesting my gladness in keeping the nom de plume “Lady Diane.” Nobility in humility, or vice versa, or…?

TWO NIGHTS AGO: Watched The Great Gatsby, 1974. I hate sad endings!

YESTERDAY: Received notice of a post by Cristian Mihai about the version of the film, The Great Gatsby. Cristian Mihai states that he has read the novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald every year since he was 13 I believe … he is only 20 years old, brilliant and entertaining:

YESTERDAY: My Post to Cristian Mihai about The Great Gatsby
(Spoiler Alert! Includes Dramatic Spiritual References to Me!):

I don’t believe in coincidences… everything is connected. So I’m VERY interested to find out why I just watched, for the first time, the older version of The Great Gatsby with Robert Redford – last night! And here just now, after coming down from a depressive outburst of tears and confusion – I went outdoors and spoke to the trees and cried, cried, cried… then I decided I would do other things (spiritually speaking) to understand…this wave of emotions…but FIRST – I decided to check my email to see if anything new came up that would speak to me. And here I find your post, Cristian…about the new (film)… with the absolutely amazing Leonardo DiCaprio. SO, I don’t know what it means but I am over my own tears and will contemplate – and probably post something – about this connection…

LAST NIGHT:
(Soul-Digging Continues As I Lash Myself to the Stake of Healing Fire!)

After my comment to Mr. Mihai, I meditated, then watched another classic movie, “Beware of Pity,” because the title seemed worth researching, given my situation. Another tale of the paradox of privilege, of self-centeredness versus our true nature of compassion, of the dangers of naivete’ leading to betrayal, and alas, too late – death rather than rebirth, regret rather than redemption. 

DREAM ALERT! My Subconscious Invites Itself to the Bonfire!

Last night, I dreamt of my secret love… Robert Redford. Actually, I dreamt of a man I’d worked for many years ago, who had recognized my talents (for writing, especially!) and promoted me to his department. His name is Ron Gable and he looked very much like the Robert Redford of my time and, like Robert, is a good man, a trustworthy man. I dreamt that I was trying to get closer to him and pointed to the television that was playing The Great Gatsby of 1974, and said to him, “You know, when we worked together, you reminded me of him, and you still do.”

GATSBY SPEAKS TO ME! Directly from the “Real” Land of WordPress!

This morning, hung over from my own melodrama, contemplating the dream… I opened my email and there was a “Like” from a blogger known as “Gatsby Luxury.” His site is resplendent with glorious photographs from the new version of the movie. I reposted my note to Cristian Mihai and added:

Well, thank you again, Gatsby… I may not live the lifestyle but I have a great deal of thought on the character of Jay, of Robert Redford, and I definitely want to see the new movie because Leonardo takes a character and makes it come completely alive and real. And maybe that’s the conundrum, here, because I don’t know that Gatsby ever felt completely alive and real, except when he was in his hopeless romantic fantasy world, hoping against hope that Daisy would leave Tom… and save him.

THE CATALYST FOR MY DRAMA: Contained Within a Most Inconspicuous & Non-Fiction Post THAT GATSBY “LIKED!”

The post “Gatsby” liked, written just before this series of events came about,  was my desperate plea about my dog, Sadie, who has become too much burden for me to bear. And my tear-full healing last night, was dramatic; I hugged the trees outside and could not stop! I looked to the skies, looking through the branches of trees as they answered me not. The catalyst for this drama? My dog Sadie, my daughter Rebecca (who is Sadie’s Real Mommy), and the burdens I bear as a MS patient, living in a community that is half-helpful, half-stressful; half-normal and half-crazy.

AND NOW:

THE DRAMATIC REVEAL (Drum Roll, Please!):

And could it be that I am, at this moment, embodying – or begging for release from – the “Gatsby” story that is mine? Here it is: Perhaps I don’t know if I have “ever felt completely alive and real, except when (I) was in (my) hopeless romantic fantasy world, hoping against hope that (Robert Redford, Ron… or anyone close to that ideal)… would save (me).”

THE FLAMES OF HELL LICKING MY HEELS:
If You’ve Read This Far, Gather Up Your Angels – You’r’e Gonna Need Them!

The path to healing everything hidden within is not easy, my friends. It takes courage to release our false hopes, to dig deeply into our souls, to release our fear and self-pity. It takes great courage to speak the truth as we know it once we realize we must speak it, if we are to Live. It is, however, the way – the ONLY way – out of hell and into the Ultimate Reality known as Heaven on Earth. This is true in any religion; the language and verbiage may be different, but all practices and prayers lead to the same perfect place.

Thank you and blessings to all!

Lady Diane Randall