Modern Day Mystic & Her Muse

Clumsy with sleep, wrangling the trash can into the car in the garage, thinking about how I’ve only got a few minutes to make my daughter lunch and get her to school on time, I pass by the same pile of rags in that I’ve been walking by for the last two years.

And the muse says, “Wash the rags.”

“Now? You’ve GOT to be kidding me,” I declare.

Silence.

I try bargaining. “Surely, there are more important things to do with my time than washing the rags.”

Silence again.

“Okaaaaay! What—EVER!” and I sound just like a petulant teenager.

I throw them in the washing machine. I dry them all fluffy and fresh smelling even though they’re stained and ugly. I fold them neatly and put them in a tall tower. It’s enormously satisfying.

Then the words start to dance in my head and my heart breaks open and the tears begin to flow. And I hear the voice that crippled English professor from college that I was so desperately in love with reciting William Butler Yeats, “..the foul rag and bone shop of the heart...”

“You want me to write a poem about my rags?” I ask the muse, incredulous. “Shut up.”

“As you wish,” she replies which frightens me.

“No, I apologize, I didn’t mean that. I just meant it’s a weird topic for a poem and the truth is I’m afraid it’s going to hurt and that it won’t be much good when it’s done.”

She’s silent again.

So I add, “I really DO NOT have the time for this today.”

But I know that’s a lie and she knows it too. So now I’m writing a poem about my rags.

But of course, it’s really about love.



Are you listening to your intuition, your muse? What has she asked of you lately? What happens when you honor the "still, small voice?" When you ignore it?

Unleash Your Shakti Power

Many people ask me, "What is Shakti?" Shakti is a Sanskrit term that means sacred life force energy. Shakti is also commonly referred to as the feminine aspect of being. In my work Shakti means all that and I also use it as an acronym to help women remember the key aspects of their divine feminine energy.

S is for SOURCE: the essence of who we are as divine beings. We come from Source (or Spirit, Sacredness, or Soul) and we return to it.

H is for HEART: who we are is love. As women, our ability to love and be loved, feel our emotions and relate from the heart are key to awakening our Shakti.

A is for ATTRACTION: located in our womb and in our yoni, our ability to attract and allow is key to our receptivity and power as women.

K is for KUNDALINI: this is the life force and sexual energy that lives at the base of our spine. As we activate our sexual energy we can use that power to manifest, create and love more deeply.

T is for TRUTH: we must know our truth and speak it authentically. This energy lives in our throats and helps us claim who we really are as goddesses, lovers, mothers, and leaders.

I is for INTUITION: the still small voice, the inner knowing and vision that we need to listen to, need to slow down and be still enough to hear. It's the inner guidance of Shakti.

As you can see, the Shakti moves down our body (from "source to yoni") and also moves up our body (from "root to crown") following the chakras or main energy centers of our body.

I have two upcoming FREE teleclasses on "Six Secrets to Unleashing Your Shakti Power" where we'll go into more discussion of Shakti. To register, visit my site at www.AwakeningShakti.com.

Blessings on your awakening!

The River She is Calling You

It is dusk when I arrive, over bleached rocks dry and white, at the river's edge. Shadowy enough that I flinch when lizard scurries under brush and bat swoops across my path.
Self-absorbed and squatting there under hypnosis of water rushing-its-hushing-by, instinct jerks my head toward the periphery as a young doe emerges. She halts. We stare at each other. And stare longer. Until I get bored and look away. I usually give up before they do.

The light glows peachy on the pines, cedars and oaks, dense, immense and ancient on the mountain. I can hear the voice of Cella, an artist I know who paints magnificent canvases of roses, "It's called the 'gloaming,' this time of the day when the light is just like this." I remember how she looked at the light the way others worship deities.

Young doe begins to cross the shallow river (I must have missed her drinking). She makes a purposeful line to the opposite bank, moving carefully, deliberately, rhythmically. I can feel her intimate communication with the water. She is a part of its rhythm. She falters very little and hesitates only slightly as she makes her way through current, crevice and slippery rock to the other side.

Must be those stylin' hooves she's got and those long, lithe gams. I imagine the spectacle of making the same crossing: wobbly-cursing-slipping-falling on my ass in a big dramatic splash-river retreads flying in the air-yelling-whining about the cold-freaking about losing control in the current-some hurrah of aggrandizement upon completion. I smile about how ridiculous it is to be human.

I cup water in my hands and splash my face. The intensity has me catch my breath. I keep washing my face until the water feels like it has penetrated my spirit and the cobwebs are floating down the river.

Refreshed, somewhat reluctant, I turn away from the fading warmth of the bank to make my way back home. I am stopped by a crescent of new moon standing out bright white in the pink purple velvet sky. I feel my bursting heart. I open to the throbbing pulse of love and joy.

I surrender to the annihilating ecstasy of beauty. I allow the tears of gratitude to flow.

We never step into the same river twice.

Namaste.


You can check out Cella's magnificent roses here.