The Mother Within

Today

The Great Shift came

Finally

I’d been waiting and waiting

So many days in so many lives

To finally see

This Softer side

She came to me

Today

Together we wept for The Child That Was

She promised she would not leave

She would take care of me

I still see the little girl

Standing at the front door with the stained-glass

In the too-short white dress

That grandma made

Holding a gift in her hands

With a huge, excited smile on her face

Eyes squeezed in glee

Shaped like little, happy crescent moons

I will be the one she needs

I will be the Empathetic Listener

Guide her, help her, love her

Today

The Great Shift came

And I….

Became a mother.

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With This Loss

With this loss

I’m at a loss

I cannot write

Or sing

Or cry

There is Nothing Left

But a memory

Of something I had hoped would be,

Fully.

Gone…

My dreams show me The Tragedy

That in my Living State I cannot see

Or feel

It would be too great a pain

Funny how the psyche works —

Kicks in like it does

Disconnects us from the stuff

We’d never be able to get through

Meanwhile, I type

But do not mistake it for writing

These are the apathetic, colorless words

Of a poet who is no longer a poet

This is the guarded, shaded voice of a person

Who will not touch love again in the same way

Because This State is not worth it

Perhaps you say

“You’ll move through”

Perhaps you are being kind but naive

One Door

Has shut

And you can be sure

That Door (for there was never another like it)

Will not be opened.

With this loss

I am merely a whisper of the person

I was.

Tomorrow

Don’t know what to do right now

Just trying to get to tomorrow

My brain is fried

My soul, it hurts

Filled with such deep sorrow

And I really wish that I could write

About funny, happy things sometimes

I know this Heavy stuff gets old

These little torturous rhymes

But what can I say?

It is the world I am in

I don’t know how to set down this load

My shoulders ache

From the constant quake

Of stories I am told

I wish I were a comedienne

So I could lighten your load

Make a smile spread ‘cross your face

But I’ve lost all my funny bones

And here I sit, holding such weight

Trying to “Let it go”

But Knowing truth underneath

Cannot be Unknown

So here I sit another night

Another sadness

Another fight

And I’m just tryin’ to find

Tomorrow.

Porcelain

Cold porcelain memories

Dreams, emptied, staring back at me

In the True State they were in back then:

Vile, lifeless —

Acid dreams in porcelain

I remember way back

When I played

When the sun Stayed

That hot cement

We’d throw our pool towels down on it

Lie on our stomachs — dripping wet

Stare at each other excitedly

As if we Knew some Secret Thing

(Something I’ve long since forgotten)

The cool breeze blew over our little-girl backs

With our little-girl secrets and our little-girl laughs

I sometimes wish I could go back

But the memories feel like dreams

Cut to:

The little-girl Blues

I’d stay in my cold, little-girl room

Crying and crying til my eyes met with sleep

Battling possession in my little-girl dreams

The boys at school all made fun of me

I remember how he would say I was

Flat as a Board

Stupid

Fucking ugly

A fat fucking bitch

I remember when the girls laughed

I didn’t know why

I just knew I wasn’t wanted

I wasn’t cool

Tried to fit in

In that suffocating school

Somehow always felt like a fool

Who didn’t ever have a clue

Of what it took or meant to be cool

At home I was told

Don’t let them know

The pain that you feel

They want that, you know

So I hid all the pain

Like a duck – let it roll – but

Life was not taking a little-girl toll

Something closed up in me one day

Quite permanently

I don’t remember the first time I threw up

But I knew I had found

Something for Me

Something to speak when I could not speak

I remember way back

When I played

When the sun Stayed

When I did not know the meaning of Shame

I can hear her laughter now

Little girl, little girl

Please come back out.

Sweetness Embodied

Will I ever see

Sweetness embodied?

Will I ever be

Who I was meant to be

Free of the never-ending Craving

Or will I just get used to it?

Will it stay with me like this

Like some kind of Over-Lay

Stifling and comforting

Horrific and Binding

Loving and Blinding

Murderous

Luminous

The Two Sides of me

Universally embodied in this one human frame

I ought not complain

For this gift of living so close to the edge

Befriending the insane

Riding the line that’s ever-so-fine

And I —

Lucky, really —

To not fall off permanently on that Other Side

But still I crave to know You better

But who is it that Craves in me

For —

To Know You better means more suffering

Sometimes I wish I were simpler

I wish I could go back to the ignorance

The small talk about something Surface

But there is No Return from This

I must simply go through

A piece of laundry

Just thrown in the mix

Trying to reach

Cleanliness

The process to get there tumultuous

Torturous

But I’m egged on by talk of Bliss

Of tenderness

Of the idea that sweetness can be

Embodied.

First The Hell

I am being crucified

Cut by the Sword of the Great Divine

A sword sharpened by the Dark Side

I have Nothing Left to give You

Why should I continue to Try

To prove to You – what?

Just what?

I am only being Crucified!

Ah — my breath catches on this pain

Slicing through my Weeping, Broken heart

Where is my God?

I am abandoned.

I am Lost.

Oh God, Oh God

At what cost do I try and stay True to You?

I can’t bear this anymore!

My throat is closed off

I type with a wet keyboard

There is no semblance of reverence

I don’t remember my relevance

Have I not repented?

Have I not suffered relentlessly?

I cry out

Goddess, what in Your Name do you want from me?

Have I not honored you enough?

Must I give my Life for your Love?

Because I will

I am bloodied and broken

Hung on the cross

Waiting for hell

And I have kissed the feet of Ereshkigal!!!

What else could You possibly want from me?

I have been to hell!

I have been to hell!

I have lived there so long why let me come up

To breathe in such exquisite air

If I am only to be sent right back there?

I have danced with the devil

And fought with the beasts

I have come into consciousness

From down on my knees

Begging you only

Just show me – just show me

But I am alone

Dear God I am lonely!

Perhaps you think me full of pride

Oh, why must I be crucified?

But then…I know why:

It is time for Some Part of me to die

So another Part can come alive

I know this horrific cycle well

I will get the Gold

But first:

The Hell.

 

 

How Conscious Are You?

I was in Savasana today after yoga class (the final “resting” pose) and I was called to write about the following: The Injured Feminine (which pertains often to dark or “societally unacceptable” feelings and this exists in both men and women, though I will be focusing on women for the purposes of this blog; specifically, women and their daughters.)

I have been encountering women in my daily life who are totally out of touch with themselves, and therefore also with their daughters, sons, husbands, etc. When a person is not in touch with herself, she greatly limits any capacity to truly connect or relate to others.

I started wondering, “Why? Why are these women so completely out of touch?” My first instinct was anger – because I see the damage they are doing to their loved ones; sadly, however, most of them do not even realize it.  The temptation for me is to judge and blame. Does that temptation come easily to you too? My thoughts were:  Why don’t these women work on themselves? Why don’t they recognize their lack of consciousness and relatedness? But then, that question answers itself, doesn’t it? It brings to mind the quote by Jesus, “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.”

One cannot “know” or “do” what has neither been learned nor modeled for them. Most of these women came from mothers who were either in “survival” mode or unconscious of their own needs. This will make sense as we go back generationally to look at this. When we do, we will see that Blame has no place here. However, we will also see how much destruction the “Old Way” of being (refusing to look at feelings, devaluing femininity) has left in it’s wake; how much it has harmed our sons and daughters; and how much it will continue down the generational line if there is not someone in the family who says, “Enough.” Maybe that person is you.

Let’s back up. If we go back many generations, we can read laws that clearly state that women were considered “cattle.” We were something to be owned. We look at this now and can recognize the ludicrousness – but it is important to note that this is where we came from – devaluation, injustice and ownership. Was this true? Of course not. It was an idea formed from the ignorance of humankind. I do not place blame here, for we can’t change what was; however, we must look at what was to follow it through to what is now – and I would say that what is now is a lot of ingrained self-hatred and oppression that for a great many of us may be largely unconscious.  For example, how many of you first go to “beating yourselves up” or “berating yourself” when something goes wrong that when looked at critically, has very little to do with you? There you can see your own tendency towards a learned belief: “There’s something wrong with me.”

There are similarities with any minority group – African Americans, for example, and their great struggle for freedom and equality. I’ve heard this phrase many times, often from the mouths of African Americans themselves: “Why are brothers killing brothers?” From a psychological perspective – this is self-hatred projected outward. How can we not see (as a society) that this projection truly exists!? That is just incredible to me. If I have been told since the beginning of time that I am “a thing; an object; cattle; wrong; bad; less-than,” I will hold that within me; even if I grew up in a great family, these themes are archetypal (archaic and typical — meaning: they pervade through time) and may affect my person. This sense of worthlessness will corrode us until and unless we can realize it is not we who are worthless. It is the message that is worthless. It is the great lies we have somehow taken in and internalized that are worthless. Undoing this is a HUGE challenge, when most of us do not want to believe that these types of generational themes, feelings and messages can and do affect us NOW.

The same principle goes with women, femininity and the messages we have received over the years (and I can’t even begin to imagine the plight of African American women!). I can hear a few of you in my head saying, “Well, sure, but at some point, people have choice – and they must choose to get over it.” To them I offer a quote from Carl Jung: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it Fate.” What that means is: the concept of choice comes from consciousness. In my opinion, beliefs and belief systems are often embossed in our souls prior to birth. If you disagree with this concept, you may be able to acknowledge, at least, that we receive messages about who we are from the moment we are born. Labels like “She,” “He,” “Ugly,” Attractive,” etc., are placed on us like psychic clothing that may or may not be something we want to wear. Messages are received about our roles, about what is and is not acceptable in our family dynamics, and about who we are as soon as we are welcomed to the planet.  All of this informs us about ourselves and it is often enormously inaccurate, which is why neurosis build – some part of us knows we are living an inauthentic life and That Part is miserable. Until we look at those messages and mindfully unweave them, we will be, on some level, doing things out of a perceived idea of “choice.”

There is a kernel of hope in all of this, and that is the fact that for the first time in Western civilization, there is a greater movement towards consciousness and awareness work without, say, the use of mind-altering substances.

If we look just a couple of generations back to those living in Western society during The Great Depression, we can see in part where the “lack” mentality comes from. Grandma and Grandpa didn’t have time to “work on themselves” in the way we do now. They made it possible for us to be where we are by getting us to survive and for that I have so much respect and gratitude. We would not exist without the strength and hard work of our ancestors. That said, we will soon be the ancestors for the next generations and we need to step it up, get out of “survival” mode and begin to work on relatedness to – number one — ourselves – and, following that – to others. The first will bring about the second.

What do you want to pass down to your children?

Parents, I believe, have such an awesome responsibility to their offspring. The first is that they allow the person to be who they are, whether it fits in with what the parents want or wish or not. Children want nothing more than to please their parents. You can see this even in abused or neglected children – they will do anything to earn the love of a parent. So, it is up to the parents to learn to work with themselves – and that means, especially – working with their feelings, reactions and parenting skills. This is the hardest job because the parents who choose to do this now most likely NEVER HAD THIS MODELED. So, how does a woman, who was never seen herself, who was never related to – how does she learn to do this for her child? That is the difficult, unanswerable question.

My guess is she must have some Thing inside her that whispers, “This is not right,” or “I want to grow.” Not everyone has that internal urging to grow and that is so sad. Many people would rather stay unconscious like the women I have encountered lately. Many say the right thing, but inwardly feel resentment that they are unable to acknowledge. When you encounter someone like this, you will probably FEEL their hidden emotions. This is unconscious poison. Many do “the right thing” but do so in order to be in the role of “the martyr.” They get a sense of feeling “worth something” only by being in this role. What is heart-breaking is twofold: 1. This type of person is deeply traumatized themselves and 2. They are deeply traumatizing their loved ones by not being available for them in a realistic, non “all-about-me” kind of way. Their loved ones get missed.  Many of these women want to be acknowledged by others, but what they fail to realize is that they must learn to acknowledge their own suffering, their own deep feeling nature! Also, ironically, the behavior they exhibit actually turns others off and pushes them farther away – so the person never gets what she seeks – relationship and connection. And she is unable to give that either. This is how unconscious destruction is handed down generationally.

For those of you reading this – I beg you: Be brave enough to face the true depth and width of your feelings. The dark feelings of the Feminine have been ostracized as “not okay” and labeled a million different things that all equate to “shame” or the idea that “I should not have such feelings.” The error was never in having these feelings – the error was in dismissing, abandoning or ignoring them! The best gift you can give to yourself and to this world is the willingness to suffer consciousness. If you can’t do it for yourself, and you have children – do it for them.

If, however, your parent does not have that capability to go within, the courage to be brave and ask the tough questions, and connect to their feelings – you must learn to cultivate this ability for yourself, or you will forever be trapped by the unconscious things that control your life.

I hope this blog helps you ask yourself if you are okay with that or not.

I wish you all courage, strength, and moments of happiness on your own journey.

Much Love,

Aria Phoenix

His Laughter Stops

I flutter open now-rested eyes

Once restless from The Night last night —

The long road back

The blood-stained fight

The Devil’s laugh

His autograph

The land mines of the Dark Divine

Exploding all around me

I felt cut in half

In perilous surroundings

Carved out

Wiped out —

Like I’d never make it through

Now I wonder, evenly –

Just who underestimated who?

Blinds are drawn but light shines through

My eyes are dry

But sharpened, too

I had my gaze Set last night

Thought I’d die

Still fought my fight

I saw His lies

His claims of “Mine”

I chose not to identify

And in that choice I realized

No one can steal what’s truly mine

Not the Devil or his stupid laugh

Not his ink or autograph

It is I who has a hold on me!

If I don’t let go

I’ll stay My Own

I’ll be free while seeds are sown

Cultivating greater Heart

Strength to not get torn apart

To tolerate the deepest pain

Help others with their suffering

I can say I made it through

And I wish the same for you

By battling the Blackest Night

I’ve made it to the Other Side…

 

His Laughter Echoes

I feel like I’ve been broken open

Split down the center line

Sawed through with the Devil’s autograph

Claiming,

“Now you’re Mine.”

There is no more fight inside ‘cause I’ve fought and I’ve fought

And I’ve tried and I’ve tried —

But the Devil’s sword is so much sharper than mine

And he wields it so gracefully —

This Practicing Dark Divine

I am shaking now, trembling

Carved open like some great ravine

A chasm – the stuff of me spilled out

Tongue cut out

No voice

No way to scream

Haunted, Haunted by this imagery

Lucifer – seducing me

Abusing me

Where is the Other Side of God?

Where is my Mother’s Bosom?

Where is my protection from all of This –

Horrific Life

Horrific-ness

People are so Blind

But I – I – I see

(In a way They cannot see

They Refuse to See)

Stuck with all this gut-wrenching disgust

Watching horror-struck

As human beings are ripped from me

Are hurt

Are lost

Are suffering

And I am only One person

Fighting my own Unending Fight –

To come to Wholeness

To journey through Night

To cross the Dark Sea and the Great Divide

To merge the two

And I have done this for You!

The Eternal You!

And now I cry out –

I can’t go on!

Please, please hear me

I plead, I need, I beg, I bleed

From the Silenced walls of my desperate soul

Devil laughing – I am broken open

His Ink pervades my soul.

His laughter echoes.