Two Songs

I reserve myself
and the fragrances within intensify, dream to potency, ready to be tapped like nectar.

I pour out
and my heart learns its opening once again, as it was many lifetimes ago.

I don’t stay sure
for sure is in motion, in the wheels spinning beneath me as I ride on my bicycle, clear day, summer beach, tempestuous storm.

There are two songs singing their wares, their ways all around and inside of me.
One old, it’s source unkind, pointing, pointing, pointing always at me.
The other, a luscious garden, so new I forget, I forget in some waking days that it can be there.

The rasping song, so old and known, plays and plays, its needle scratching the phonograph’s ear.
The other remains. It has become, like a blossom and will not fade.
Their musics swell and flow.

I am riding my bicycle.
Joy streams like a blue ribbon. Or two, or three. Red, green, blue.
My colors blend. I take the low road by the river, feeling happily endless,
before and behind, balanced in the middle.

by Tasara

The Old Black Road

I have been through cinder, nettle
Drowned in flood plains all amore
I have walked through, death and barren
valleys, never finding golden ore.

There’ve been chapters, many chapters
Filled with glue and glass and stone
Times when I was living under
surfaces to me unknown.

My traveler’s stick, my hard-earned wit
it kept me sane and safe and sore
My lantern it seemed overwhelmed
but now I know it was much more.

I shunned the sun for what I knew
the dark spark drew me while it grew
it drew the magic all around
but was so intense, those there were few.

Chaos ensued, the years went by
the sparks did come, the sparks did fly
and then one day I met a man
who returned to me my soul, this guy.

The globe of light, it filled my middle
The world became less like a riddle
I lost my friends who were not true
I learned to love to hear a fiddle.

I tracked the source, the gift to give
So I could help some others live
My eyes adjusted to the light
My sorrows melted through the sieve

This joy I find when in the road
come from love and laughter told
but also from my weathered boots
that tell me of my older roots.

For if I fall, I do not fear
as much as when in elder year
There is comfort yet to know
that love and light can only grow.

by Tasara

The Faerie Realm

The RealmI asked to be shown the extent of the Faerie Realm. Not as how it is portrayed by artists around me or talked about in tales but in a way that would be meaningful to me.

Faerie. It IS the inbetween place, which is why the inbetween places are portals to this realm. It is the inbetween place between the physical and spirit, mortal and timelessness. The interplay, a tension of the inbetween, that magical line generates a super intense force of creativity. It actually birthed the faerie creatures in the first place, organic matter liking to create.

But it creates more. It creates physical-half-physical access points to the sacred. To the most rooted forces of the elements as expressed through the elementals, divine forces of their own. The elementals manifest as dryads, nymphs…the trees and flowers and streams themselves charged with a magical potency, all tended by the faerie creatures, some spawned from such divinity, some created as byproducts of human expression. Human virtues and foibles manifested in energetic creatures that behave on their own, driven by the vast power of creativity come from the crack between here and there.

Hence the faerie realm is not one of infinite wisdom and compassion but a playground of beauty and light intermingled with all expression and deeds capable in the middle realm.

For many, getting to know the faeries opens portals to the Gods and Goddesses, Angels, Power Animals and many other beings that hang out in realms beyond the Fey. There are Gods and Goddesses that are multidimensional, causing trouble as well as joy and there are others that are completely divine, only pure passages of light and compassion. We can choose to invoke the aspects of compassion and leave the rest.

I want to align with those that are divine. I want to shine in the light of my own blessed divinity, spilling over for others around me.

by Tasara

This

Gold - LoveThis stuff,
I could reach up and touch it if I wanted to.
It used to be far away, elusive,
and now.. I can feel it.

If I reached up, my fingers would be in the sticky honey of light.
It would be contagious, shimmering down into my body,
spreading through my everything and out from my eyes
and I would see through honey colored glasses. Yes, I would. I would.

The wise rose permeates my scene. The full rose, the gentle rose.
Speaking of the softer secrets, the land, the sea,
the fragility of innocence, the fullness of the mother.

This pungent rose. And the sight of petals.
Petals, petals, everywhere.
Lily, iris, moonflower, lotus, morning glories
upright, on the ground, in the air, in my mind,
feathering against my cheek as the spring breezes flow in streams of color around me, cherry blossoms.
Flowers dainty, trite, shriill, discarded
as too petty have become my elegant world.

Life’s delight is in the changes.
The turns and the tones, the things revealed by the moon’s pull on the edges of the ocean,
rising out of the deep sand, smiling as if they’ve been there all along, watching.
I walked on a beach with a million starfishes last week.
So many stars, so fragile, so persistent, their tenacity to flourish.
So persistent.

The pleasure of the unexpected, the sudden change, brace, take hold, gasp,
stop a moment and then a slight
bright smile that slips from my lips almost without my noticing.
Oh my, look, look. What next? What fun.
What adventure. What a life when I am noticing.

I am a sandy sand dollar on the beach.
I might be noticed. I might be stepped on by the happy bounding dog.
Either way I am a sand dollar and what I am next will be different.
On someone’s dash board soaking up music from the stereo or disintegrating back to Mother Ocean,
a path is a path, each one continues, flows into another and another
endlessly, a beautiful ribbon of life as the streamers in the breeze
announcing north, east, southwest, fallow. Sync, unsync, hallow.

Sheets of laughter come by with the early wind of summer’s dawn.
Falling on the floor stuff. Puddles of your soup lost on the table as you drop the spoon, stuff.
Lost in glee, the grains shake to merry, slippery, rain-fallen, forgotten dust, return to earth.

I am bones, revealing themselves as the tide washes the sand down around me.
I am old and my time in the dark has intoned my marrow with the ancientness of myself.
I do not need a sparrow to tell me that spring has come.
I do not need my eyes or my teeth or a prowess.

I walk and the world shimmers around me.

by Tasara

Lotus

When the lotus blooms, she brings forth all that she has seen in the underworld. She pulls herself up and up, changing from muck to morning and when she blooms there is heaven there waiting to kiss her, happy kisses with tears of joy and the knowing, the knowing that all who have ascended know from their memories of the deep darkness beneath us. That which scares. That which taunts, which nourishes those who brave to look upon it, who brave to be caught up in it, to risk the terrible risk of not coming back home.

And when it blooms, it blooms in slow motion, sequentially, many times over, overlapping, creating petals of motion which caress, coax joy, sing songs unheard, sweeping in freshness from the sweet world which we live in.

by Tasara

Kachina Starblower

Last night we built a little tipi out of the sticks we found lying in the yard. There were a whole lot of us, this gathering of hope and passion and seeking. We were all very excited. Finally, we sat really, really still and with only whispers, opened an invisible gate above us for the invitation.

Someone said, “Starblower.” and I opened myself up to find out who he was. This Starblower , he came and through me he blew a wind of stars. A wind of stars that blew and blew and blew forever from forever to forever. I gasped. Throughout my body, expanded, every molecule touched, the stars, so blessed, so familiar.

“Where have you been?!” I cried, as the little girl who remembered them, who had longed for them, so long. It was a homecoming. My body swayed back and back in the breeze. I floated, floated above my roots, swaying.

This went. On and on.. and on.

When the people stopped talking and went away there were three or four of us left. We sat in a circle around the candles, this campfire not made of fire but of blue peace. Deep blue peace, so homecoming and so blue and so deep that we wept, immobilized by its beauty, by the stillness, by the stars that were still blowing, blowing through us.

I went to bed full of stars and blowing and I woke up with them still streaming through me. If I close my eyes and draw forth the deep blue peace, the weeping begins all over again.

I know what attunement means, now. I know who I am. I am a gate to the stars.

by Tasara

There’s No Such Thing as A Muggle

There is no such thing as a Muggle. It’s a plot device created by a woman who wanted to create an us/them dynamic in her book to make one group seem more special than another.

But it’s a lie. There is no such thing as a Muggle.

We are all so magic.
It is in our blood, this ancient blood that has been passed from womb to womb for thousands of years. There is no muggle, only gorgeous, magical people unfolding to various degrees all around us, all in their own good time.

To be around a rose brings the emanation of rose into our beings.
To be around a moonflower…. around a pixie…. a saint… a lover…a passionate craftsperson.
We are affected by the forces around us and not all of us are living in uplifting environments.

We all have passion whether flowing freely or locked within. We all have love.
We all have the power to make things happen in the world around us.

There is no such thing as a muggle and the word being used in the way I have heard is used is not any better to me than other names people have been called over the centuries in this country. Names that most of us would not stand to hear our friends use.

May we all learn to see the brilliant, beautiful souls of others. May it become it easy to hold others with love and light. To see the barriers, the fear, the anger and not take it on, but rather soften the air around those who are lost in stress…. and beam a little.

I love it when people can do that for me on the days that I need it.

There is no such thing as a Muggle.

by Tasara

What Goddess Would I Invoke?

goddessWhat goddess shall I invoke to heighten the goddess in me?
Will I pick a temptress or fine lady like Persephone?
Will I call on a mother to keep me safe and strong?
Will it be the Great Isis who’s led my path for so long?

What if I sing to the water nymphs who love to laugh and play
just like I do when I am in the river for the whole day?
Or the wild tree one with the smile of fun, whose glimpse has become so rare
that no one knows her story or how she came to be at the fair.

No, I think I’ll call on the one I know that has been here since I was born
I’ll call on the Goddess of Me with my silver horn.
She is no aspect of anything, she’s the whole package for sure.
From dark to light, fair to blight, the one that will always endure.

She was born from a human named Judith, who rode horses across the plain
and a Pa named David who could think of nothing but flying his next airplane.
She came from the woods of the great northeast and traveled across to the sea
where the mountains are high, the ravens do fly and there she threw out her TV.

That’s who I will call, it’s nothing at all and bigger than I could expect.
To honor myself, (not a book on the shelf), a mystery too deep to inspect.

by Tasara

The Spider Story

There once was a little spider. She liked to spin little webs in the grass. She didn’t care if animals walking by destroyed her webs. She just made another one. Her webs were always different and she liked to make them so much. In the morning they glistened with the dew and at night they shone under the star light.

When she got bigger, the spider climbed up into the trees. There she made her webs between the branches and she got to listen to the gossip of the monkeys. She also found that she could make webs that connected the trees. She liked this connecting part of her webs very much. It was like she could be in two places at once. She could also get to places and explore and she went to many places.

One day the spider decided that she would throw her web high in the air and see what where it would land next. Well, her web landed right on a star. The spider was so surprised she was not sure what to do but you know, curiosity is quite overwhelming so what do you think she did? Well of course she had to climb up the web to see what it would be like to be on a star. When she got there she turned around and ohhh wow, she said! She had no idea that the earth looked like a beautiful blue marble.

What else, she noticed that she could see over all the earth. In her life, she had been to many places, spinning and crawling from one web to another. But when she looked down, she could see two places that she loved at once. She thought, well, let me try something. And she cast a web down to an old place where the big cats liked to roam and then also she cast a web down to her favorite place with the monkeys in the trees.

After she did that, she felt wonderful. She had connected these two places that she loved and knew that they were connected in some beautiful way through her. She loved to love the earth and decided to stay up there on the star.

The spider has been up in the stars for so long that nobody really remembers when she first climbed up there. Her web has grown to reach places all over the earth and after being under the moonlight for so long, it has grown silver and strong enough to walk upon. She has been up there for so long that over time, she learned to turn into a lady whenever she wants to. That is why she is called Spiderwoman. She loves to cast her web down to people she loves and she knows that she can connect these people that she loves in this way. So if you ever feel like your life has shifted in unexpected and mysterious ways, bumping you into marvelous and miraculous people, maybe the Spiderlady did it.

by Tasara

Bees imagine

**Bee Imagine**

Imagine you are a bee.

You buzz in airy ocean
of the most delicious smells,
waves and ribbons of them
some pungent and full,
some like narrow streams of gladness.

In low places there is found lace, heaven.
Further on, grace.
Along the fences is rosy rose,
burst of rose,
sweet rose,
cool rose.

But there is one scent,
a ravenously dizzy scent
that calls soft through airy jungle
as you madly fly its trail

all high and too hither.

by Tasara

May you break free from the patterns that bind you.