perhaps when they call me ancient it is beyond true.
realizing the High Priestess that is always emulated existed predating even the Egyptland, to its forbearers and creators, the Sumerians and Annunakis. I am surmising my identity by images that come to me that conform to pictures given to me from those with deep-set recessed and reset eyes to see. From Lilla who appeared to me as spirit when she died with a bucket; From Maria who I astral traveled to our ancestral compound where I was walking the village and asking all, "why arent you greeting me, do you not know who i am?" and who wiped my forehead three times as I sat at her knee, sayng, "teacher say you well smart", each time, meaning a different teacher; to the Michigan brother who saw me as and said I had the character of a cat and to now learn today the Egyptian Goddess of Cats is Bast, the protector of women, mothers and children. To the image above that delivered today, with two infant sons at her feet like the Michigan brother saw decades ago; both my sons, that i recently learned for all wombmen, once the womb conceives even if they never draw breath, the children's spirits stay with you. Sons or Douens* (look it up) of my countrymen - children in all forms, malformed, deformed, with distended empty malnourished starving bellies, head facing back, body forward, but feet turned reverse as well. Not a form to take you anywhere but standing still. makes me wonder now who created such a powerful image. who conjured up that description of douen. All these parts are my true existence, my history, my purpose (in identity). The following writing is today;s revelatory piece of this puzzle.
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"some deep things are coming together. and i really wish for a new and better word than 'deep'. it is played out.i just wrote a magnificent post, but it got deleted --when pages, instructions and processing froze.
i started writing of an insight/a lesson: how our marks, scars and maps of dissonance and emotionalpsychologicalmentalbrain disconnects entrench..and i was saying to myself, i dont ever want to be like that. that whatever challenges occurred in my childhood, let me never be a mature person being motivated by those invisible drives, and bogeymen and fear women of illusion.
this revelation hit me as I watch a seventy year old clearly have a deep obstruction towards food plants, growing, soil, agriculture...and i thought how thoroughly absurd, especially when we are in a time and place where food is of premium berth, at least just in the minds of those of us thinking and future mapping..
then i think of so many others, and how that appears to be the character of the humanimal form...to be driven by the unknown, the invisible and mostly the scars and disjointed that bridge internal traumas.
i have no idea what the trauma with the seventy year old --if it is she was forced to work land early in life, I did know she had to tote water, but the talk and mere prospect of turning her yard into a food basket brings silent rage and resolve to mash up and hide growing plants from sight...all in turn
and as i write, so many
visions and remembrances come to me..i think of the dream i had with my
grandmother when i was a mere child, less than 10, more close to 7, 8
and maybe 9. where she was walking up a steep hill, i was with her, and
as i sensed danger, some man in some wood house seemed to want to rape
us.. that dream always confounded me. but now, now i think i may have
accessed the memory , knowing of my grandmother and maybe she of as a
woman of secret powers, imbued me with her experiences for me to access
as I grow roots and become star planet empowered--but just now as I
thought of that hillside planting, for the first time i connected that
dream with the truth that my grandmother, a payol from inside Maracas
old hill Venezuela estates, did in fact farm hillsides and mountains
with donkeys bearing the harvests. there are still old aunts who can
retell those stories, Aunt Marian and Aunt Phyllis. perhaps this idea
stupid humanimals have never to do what you see your parents do which
seems like such blunt ignorance to me, especially when what they did
still applies and gives health, wellness and survival...is what is
revealing itself as a caution and abhorrence.i had even written about a new generation; how those of single mothers refuse to live their lives single, cleaving and claiming any male to say they is father and husband, only to have young girl children, the age of 7, 8 and 9 --those years seems to be the time of greatest female wisdom. I must research that, keep that book open for observations, experiences and personal entries..the new 8 year old asking grandmother, "mama, how you let mommy marry daddy?" only the blind who make themselves blind cant see...and i write it like that (the new 8 year old) cause it was me at ten who told my mother, to lets leave my father, "i will go with you" as if me and what i represented to her was any love, arm or safety...but i did that then...having a knowing...but just as i write, I realize how my own future life and prospects would never have been the same had my mother listened to me. the life he afforded us is so far unseen by any i know in my circle. and outside my reaches. only on tv and famousity* surpasses.
i think too of those who grew up with proverbs 31 mothers who were great homemakers, homesteaders and nurturers, but eschewed all of that for their own lives and living in what intention? to be and accomplish what? leaving their children less attended, now grown with behaviors and patterns...that provide more reasons to be blind...
it made me realize, I dont ever want to be that. I, me, who was the child of a single mother for my first two years of life. said i never wanted to do the same, but I knew I did not have Felix, Maria, Marjorie, Mona, Leroy and Patrick; Lilla, Ruth and dozens of others...to help me, to give a hand. there was no delineation of home. I could have lived in either of their places. Once upon a time. and not could have, but did.
For my own other cautionary tale is my father and mother, I said i never wanted to be married for the deplorable union of my parents. I said I never wanted a man like my father. but if it werent for my father and my mother who chose to bring me, I would not be here. And even as I decry the man my father turned out to be latter in life, not that he was so sterling before then because he wasnt, my father still rises heads and shoulders beyond so many if not all. And that complexity baffles me really, even as I know it to be true. the husband my mother got is far beyond any of her circle ever knew. My father left this speck of a place in 1960s late and went to Amerikkka to make himself into a business man entrepreneur, the likes of which saw him as the face of Small Business Administration pamphlet for NYC. i was too young to know what that meant at the time. only in hindsight could i see. I just knew i was privileged. always.
but what happened, the instruction and lesson led me to visions and thoughts, so as I began writing, i remembered so many apparently disconnected pieces that all seemed to weave and sew into a pattern, story and revealing.
like the guy i met in Michigan who was there to give a talk, and we went for coffee after but this guy seemed to have agency and some access to what power I do not know for he told me he saw me as a cat/that i was the character of a cat/ and then later he told me of two infants alongside me. this morning, just now, when I saw the photo of Oshun (below), with the two sons, as were/are mine, I wondered...if i could..i would show the brother that picture and ask him, is that who ...?
but that remembrance asked and led me to wonder who is the egyptian priestess of cats, and there is one. Bast, Bastet said to be the protector of mothers and children. and insert here that sonic boom blaster with reverberations...a new piece in the puzzle of identity remapping
But that is where i had ended in the piece that disappeared.
I read this morning how a generation of ills in a family can be rectified by just one within. I queried that, but realize I have written or surmised that before about myself. I think i have some particular peculiar energy for the mothers and women in my family. Something I came to do. to wipe out their karma, clean their curses, refuse their repetitions...
even refusing to let my father run over me as he has done his mother and his wife, my grandmother and mother...so how do you throwaway yet not emulate such an entangled story of great, good and bad? so the caution is we only become human and noble when we transcend the scars that marked us when young. when you refuse to be a mature person whose darkness, hurts and blindspots direct your thought action, choices and interactions. To be awake and not asleep. to not eschew all that is good for you/ in preference to fears and archaic illusions.
it seemed it was so well written and cogent the first time
but i recognized in the telling, something I wrote before, that i have come to correct the wrongs of the women of Carl and Marina. that i am the one come down to bring a stop to the cycles and for Justice. that when a seer man calls me the mother of the stars and tell me to them to pray..and I learn that the cat i am may be the spirit of Bast/Bastet, and that is the protector of women mothers and children; and Oshun is pictured this day with two infant suns sons beside her (as i was once seen by one with eyes). I just have to wonder what is the fabric being weaved here...
i regret I lost the first writing
just dont be your lies and illusions/. dont ride your hurts and scars like trains/ be an alchemist and make all gold for your highest evolution and guided terrain...
i wonder how am i to use and alchemize such a bag of mixed energies curses blessings that are all character of metals (mercurygoldplatinumironcopper) that was my parents and father? how and what madness would it be to eschew any of them/ so just as it is complete stupor to do so in complexity, it cant be any different in a frame and example of more simplicity...the simple might even be a decoy, more hidden. Nothing is simple. I just read from Gary Braden (name?) this morning/ that the work channels and wiring that presented to you as simple is indeed very intricate and complex. like a computer, mouse and cursor.
life is deep. this is deep. and i must find a new word. Deep is played out. but i am loving this journey. and all this repetitive writing. i keep thinking perhaps this is my purpose and goal to just sit here and weave knit crochet sew and darn the pieces, so after i am gone there will be a record. who really was this bird and what invisible work did she come to unfold. something about correcting familial record, cleaning ancestral karma, removing generational curses of and among the women and heal our path to the future/ doing it with the protective magick of cats, the moon and stars and infant children spirits, maybe even douens.
Sigh. I will clean up this piece one day. maybe later/ dont want something to lose while i try to clean up and attach images...."
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and i am going to leave this fresh killing just as it is for the hour; rambles and all. just to give some space, breath and clarity to how i might refine the thoughts in a future time.
Ase"
"Single Mothers are the reason large numbers of Men growing up calling women bitches."- Erik Moore./
match the pieces