From now on I pay much more attention to my own cycles and aligning with those of Mother Earth. There is a whole natural world out there that I was intimate with as a child, mountain-born and bred. Every seed in the milkweed knew my name.
My relationship to my own inner depths is reflected in my deep connection to the beauty and mysteries of Mother Earth. From now on, I'm not conforming to socialization standards that others try to impose on me. If I don't want to go to a party where people are boozing and getting high ... I'm not going. I would much rather hang out at dusk observing the sounds, sights, and scents of Mother Nature.
The cricket song; the graceful, glowing dance of fireflies; the gently lapping waves of an intimate inland lake:
these soulful sounds are much more pleasing to my ears than ever before. This is one of the benefits of saying "so long" to youthful, external, commercial pleasures. I don't desire the "party-life" anymore, and am deeply content with this inner shift. Nature is a contemplative playground for me and I receive messages from her all the time now.
Every animal, bird, tree, flower, plant, body of water ... is a revelation, and they all speak to me metaphorically. I wonder, if someday, the communication will cease to be metaphorical and become DIRECT -- from their consciousness to mine? I believe this is possible. I'll start by choosing a flower, tree, or plant, and just sit quietly with it while listening closely. If I practice this, I wonder: will I develop "ears that hear" -- as Jesus spoke of?
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Spirit Cave - a monologue
I believe in Magic -- not the Hogwarts kind -- but the kind that sees a tree spring from a seed, a fetus emerge from a womb, OR -- Spirit ENTER a womb.
I am Spirit and I am spiraling, flying through crystalline tunnels in the Earth, heading toward the Cave of Creation -- to the place where we are all born and Re-born.
The most magical of places is the Cave, Kiva, the Womb of Mother Earth, the Womb of Woman.
It is a place of entering in, a portal for Spirit, a Sanctuary, a place of inner transformation -- where I gestate and incubate my destiny, deep within the mystery, and DREAM a life in to being.
My womb is a Gnostic Mystic, like Mary Magdalene, a Priestess of deepest knowing, a CHALICE for radical shifts in transformation. My womb is a Universe unto itself, and navigating the cavernous places of my being is like journeying in deep space.
My womb is ALIVE, FERTILE, ABUNDANT!!! and it vibrates like a Tibetan Singing Bowl, harmonizing itself into the Mystery of Me.
I am Spirit and I am spiraling, flying through crystalline tunnels in the Earth, heading toward the Cave of Creation -- to the place where we are all born and Re-born.
The most magical of places is the Cave, Kiva, the Womb of Mother Earth, the Womb of Woman.
It is a place of entering in, a portal for Spirit, a Sanctuary, a place of inner transformation -- where I gestate and incubate my destiny, deep within the mystery, and DREAM a life in to being.
My womb is a Gnostic Mystic, like Mary Magdalene, a Priestess of deepest knowing, a CHALICE for radical shifts in transformation. My womb is a Universe unto itself, and navigating the cavernous places of my being is like journeying in deep space.
My womb is ALIVE, FERTILE, ABUNDANT!!! and it vibrates like a Tibetan Singing Bowl, harmonizing itself into the Mystery of Me.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Darkness Redefined
Darkness needs to be redefined, not as a state of non-light or something negative, undesirable, or frightening -- but as a state of non-being, formlessness prior to creation; to be or not to be; light/dark is not so much about an either/or (duality) mentality as it is about the Merging, Uniting of energies. The idea or potential of anything already exists within the warm, gestating waters of darkness, the primordial chaos, the state that must be returned to before a new order can emerge. Light contains the information that the seed/idea needs in order to become “form” - and the dark is the 'home' where things simmer, stew, brew, gestate, and are nurtured so they can grow, heal or expand. The dark is a good, benevolent place like a warm, wonderful, welcoming Womb. :)
Friday, March 11, 2011
Victorian Love Poem
She prepares her wild soul,
with lilacs and lack of fear.
Her heart yearns for a home,
she feels it coming near.
“Come softly, beloved,” she beckons,
“lay your burden upon my breast
scented with lavender
for your weary head to rest.”
Heaven on earth,
her body worships thee,
with kisses sweeter than wine,
God of her idolatry.
Thy soul she will tend
til death and beyond.
Take this poem
as pledge of her love-bond.
with lilacs and lack of fear.
Her heart yearns for a home,
she feels it coming near.
“Come softly, beloved,” she beckons,
“lay your burden upon my breast
scented with lavender
for your weary head to rest.”
Heaven on earth,
her body worships thee,
with kisses sweeter than wine,
God of her idolatry.
Thy soul she will tend
til death and beyond.
Take this poem
as pledge of her love-bond.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Piper Methysticum (Mystical Poetry)
Piper Methysticum
by Kathryn Preston
Archetypal lovers
come and go
ebb and flow
like lava on the move
glowing crimson
volcanic
voluptuous
dark and daring,
inviting
Concubitia
to propitiate the gods
in ritual passion,
activating the mystical umbilical,
a secret passageway
connecting past and present,
uniting opposites,
in ecstatic eruptions
and solar distortions
in a 3-D world
simultaneously
going global
and collapsing,
unmasking
economics and
plate tectonics,
paradigm shifts breeding
chaotic dynamics,
jazzy fusions of duality:
Nietzschean and Anarchist
Ubermalcontents and Bolshevists,
dandies and dykes,
poets and propagandists.
Where do I fit?
How to be
fundamentally me
and put my love into action -
that is the question.
by Kathryn Preston
Archetypal lovers
come and go
ebb and flow
like lava on the move
glowing crimson
volcanic
voluptuous
dark and daring,
inviting
Concubitia
to propitiate the gods
in ritual passion,
activating the mystical umbilical,
a secret passageway
connecting past and present,
uniting opposites,
in ecstatic eruptions
and solar distortions
in a 3-D world
simultaneously
going global
and collapsing,
unmasking
economics and
plate tectonics,
paradigm shifts breeding
chaotic dynamics,
jazzy fusions of duality:
Nietzschean and Anarchist
Ubermalcontents and Bolshevists,
dandies and dykes,
poets and propagandists.
Where do I fit?
How to be
fundamentally me
and put my love into action -
that is the question.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Freedom to choose
when our world has gone beyond the current turmoil and chaos of change, I want to see the whole world existing in a reality where each person has the freedom to choose exactly what his/her own version of paradise would be, and to have ...the means/resources to follow that bliss. AND IF SOMEONE TRIES that reality and finds it not to his liking, then by all means, he should be able to experiment, improvise, and tweak reality until he/she finds her true bliss.
Amen brothas and sistas!
Amen brothas and sistas!
Monday, February 7, 2011
A Celtic Solstice
The Celts are my ancestors, but I have known precious little of this heritage as all my familial bonds were severed in childhood. I know I was named for my paternal grandmother, Kate O’Shaughnessy, who moved to Canada from Ireland to escape genocide via famine induced by the British government. There she met and married Carl Preston. Preston means “priest town.” Apparently, in twelfth century Scotland, there was and still is a town named Preston, run by a group of Catholic priests. Eventually the pair moved to the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York where I was born.
My life seemed to be in a state of chaotic-limbo, so I took the opportunity to do some digging into the history and mythology of “my people.” I use quotes around the phrase “my people” because I have never really felt the fervor of a nationalistic identity. I grew up in a foster home where African-American, Native American, Irish-American, you name it - were all my brothers and sisters. I didn’t realize it then, but I see now that there was hidden treasure in the hardships of life as an orphan. Considering people from all walks of life to be my kith and kin has led to a world- view that is inclusive of all human beings and all life.
For much of my life, however, I felt like an outsider in my own culture: a culture that takes many of its ideas of civilization from a Greco-Roman world view. Interestingly, the name “Celt” comes from the Greek word “Celtoi” meaning “stranger” or “outsider.” For many years I found a “home” in the theater. Migrating across America, performing plays, writing poetry, and maintaining an ancient oral tradition that I had no idea I was part of. Today I am a writer, poet, actor, singer, and somewhat of a mystic. Since I was not in a position to learn this behavior from my parents, I have surmised that these gifts can only have been passed down through the ages from the original Bard by means of genetics or Jung’s collective unconscious.
When I speak of the “original Bard,” I don’t mean Shakespeare (though I love his work dearly.) Contrary to popular belief, the term “Bard” is of Celtic origin. In ancient times, the Bard would perform his poetry during feasts, satirizing or glorifying his warrior tribesmen, while the Chieftain looked on. What appeals to me most about this character, the Bard, is that although he had a formidable intellect, and was an exquisite performer and public speaker, the real magic of his “critiques” lay within the intimate connection he had with each member of his tribe. That kind of kinship and connection steeped in history and tradition is what I have envied Europeans for all my life. Now, I realize that my ancestors were the fathers of Europe, and I am more connected than I ever realized. A simple flick of the switch inside my head has produced a connectivity heretofore unknown to me. This connection illuminates “ways of thinking” that I thought were unique to me, but is actually unique to the Celts.
It is a non-classical, Celtic mind that believes opposing facts can be equally right, and that a conclusion can be arrived at from a number of different directions. In contrast, it is the Greco-Roman mind that thinks in terms of strict order, hierarchies, beauracracies, squares, rectangles, and boxes. My thinking has always been much freer, more fluid, more abstract. Celtic art forms were inspired by the land and sea they loved so well. Their art, like their lifestyle, was about freedom of movement: open-ended curves and beautiful swells. Celtic art and music reflects a philosophy of freedom. I realize that what I am about to write is a rather romantic notion, and probably every orphan’s deepest desire, but I wish I could live with a tribe of people who love the land they live on as fiercely as they love one another. I met a native Irishman who describes a rural man as knowing and loving the land he lives on the same way he knows his lady-love. An Irishman feels the soil the same way he runs his hands through his true love’s hair. He is as familiar with the contours of the land as he is with every nook and cranny of his beloved’s body. If everyone honored the spirit of the land and the spirit of the feminine in this manner, there might be more “peace on earth.”
My research on Celtic Solstice rituals has provided me with illumination and guidance as to why my life seemed in limbo. Ancient Winter Solstice festivals consisted of four rituals:
1. Rites of mortification, austerity. This is the natural cycle we are in at this time of the year. The sun is in stasis. Sol = “sun,” and stice = “still.” There is a suspended animation that happens at the end of one cycle (death of the old), before the New Year (birth of the new sun/son) begins. This explains my feeling of limbo, but what is its purpose?
2. Rites of purgation: expelling bad moral or physical habits. Fasts, abstinence; getting rid of the old so the new can flow in. Then, having surrendered to austerity for the purpose of purification (preparing for the new ) we move on to:
3. The rites of invigoration, rejuvenation of energies. Ancients did this through ritual combat (much like stage combat of today); battles between death and life, old and new, winter and spring. And last but not least:
4. The rites of jubilation: comes from an overwhelming sense of relief that death has been beaten and the continuance of life has begun.
I believe that my world was turned upside down recently because it is only within the fertile ground of chaos that creation, renewal, and transformation can happen. I feel that I am on the verge of letting go of old ways that no longer serve me so that I may loose the chains that have held my heart in bondage. I am on the precipice, about to cross the threshold into that portal which is my own heart. I am about to discover a new world, abundant with possibility, as generations of fathers and mothers before me had done. Their journey was physical. Mine is spiritual.
As I shed my old skin and reinvent myself and my life, I also have a sense of advancing my ancestors’ legacy: to bring freedom of thought and new ways of being into the present moment; to create my life as the highest form of art, and to share all of this with others in the interest of Unity.
The Celts are my ancestors, but I have known precious little of this heritage as all my familial bonds were severed in childhood. I know I was named for my paternal grandmother, Kate O’Shaughnessy, who moved to Canada from Ireland to escape genocide via famine induced by the British government. There she met and married Carl Preston. Preston means “priest town.” Apparently, in twelfth century Scotland, there was and still is a town named Preston, run by a group of Catholic priests. Eventually the pair moved to the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York where I was born.
My life seemed to be in a state of chaotic-limbo, so I took the opportunity to do some digging into the history and mythology of “my people.” I use quotes around the phrase “my people” because I have never really felt the fervor of a nationalistic identity. I grew up in a foster home where African-American, Native American, Irish-American, you name it - were all my brothers and sisters. I didn’t realize it then, but I see now that there was hidden treasure in the hardships of life as an orphan. Considering people from all walks of life to be my kith and kin has led to a world- view that is inclusive of all human beings and all life.
For much of my life, however, I felt like an outsider in my own culture: a culture that takes many of its ideas of civilization from a Greco-Roman world view. Interestingly, the name “Celt” comes from the Greek word “Celtoi” meaning “stranger” or “outsider.” For many years I found a “home” in the theater. Migrating across America, performing plays, writing poetry, and maintaining an ancient oral tradition that I had no idea I was part of. Today I am a writer, poet, actor, singer, and somewhat of a mystic. Since I was not in a position to learn this behavior from my parents, I have surmised that these gifts can only have been passed down through the ages from the original Bard by means of genetics or Jung’s collective unconscious.
When I speak of the “original Bard,” I don’t mean Shakespeare (though I love his work dearly.) Contrary to popular belief, the term “Bard” is of Celtic origin. In ancient times, the Bard would perform his poetry during feasts, satirizing or glorifying his warrior tribesmen, while the Chieftain looked on. What appeals to me most about this character, the Bard, is that although he had a formidable intellect, and was an exquisite performer and public speaker, the real magic of his “critiques” lay within the intimate connection he had with each member of his tribe. That kind of kinship and connection steeped in history and tradition is what I have envied Europeans for all my life. Now, I realize that my ancestors were the fathers of Europe, and I am more connected than I ever realized. A simple flick of the switch inside my head has produced a connectivity heretofore unknown to me. This connection illuminates “ways of thinking” that I thought were unique to me, but is actually unique to the Celts.
It is a non-classical, Celtic mind that believes opposing facts can be equally right, and that a conclusion can be arrived at from a number of different directions. In contrast, it is the Greco-Roman mind that thinks in terms of strict order, hierarchies, beauracracies, squares, rectangles, and boxes. My thinking has always been much freer, more fluid, more abstract. Celtic art forms were inspired by the land and sea they loved so well. Their art, like their lifestyle, was about freedom of movement: open-ended curves and beautiful swells. Celtic art and music reflects a philosophy of freedom. I realize that what I am about to write is a rather romantic notion, and probably every orphan’s deepest desire, but I wish I could live with a tribe of people who love the land they live on as fiercely as they love one another. I met a native Irishman who describes a rural man as knowing and loving the land he lives on the same way he knows his lady-love. An Irishman feels the soil the same way he runs his hands through his true love’s hair. He is as familiar with the contours of the land as he is with every nook and cranny of his beloved’s body. If everyone honored the spirit of the land and the spirit of the feminine in this manner, there might be more “peace on earth.”
My research on Celtic Solstice rituals has provided me with illumination and guidance as to why my life seemed in limbo. Ancient Winter Solstice festivals consisted of four rituals:
1. Rites of mortification, austerity. This is the natural cycle we are in at this time of the year. The sun is in stasis. Sol = “sun,” and stice = “still.” There is a suspended animation that happens at the end of one cycle (death of the old), before the New Year (birth of the new sun/son) begins. This explains my feeling of limbo, but what is its purpose?
2. Rites of purgation: expelling bad moral or physical habits. Fasts, abstinence; getting rid of the old so the new can flow in. Then, having surrendered to austerity for the purpose of purification (preparing for the new ) we move on to:
3. The rites of invigoration, rejuvenation of energies. Ancients did this through ritual combat (much like stage combat of today); battles between death and life, old and new, winter and spring. And last but not least:
4. The rites of jubilation: comes from an overwhelming sense of relief that death has been beaten and the continuance of life has begun.
I believe that my world was turned upside down recently because it is only within the fertile ground of chaos that creation, renewal, and transformation can happen. I feel that I am on the verge of letting go of old ways that no longer serve me so that I may loose the chains that have held my heart in bondage. I am on the precipice, about to cross the threshold into that portal which is my own heart. I am about to discover a new world, abundant with possibility, as generations of fathers and mothers before me had done. Their journey was physical. Mine is spiritual.
As I shed my old skin and reinvent myself and my life, I also have a sense of advancing my ancestors’ legacy: to bring freedom of thought and new ways of being into the present moment; to create my life as the highest form of art, and to share all of this with others in the interest of Unity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)