"The Grammy Awards Show is too close to the Imbolc Festival for coincidence. Master Teacher says Western Occultism heavily borrows from paganism and indigenous traditions. Imbolc Sabbath is an ancient fire festival carried by Pagans into present-day relevance. This Thursday and Friday (Feb 1 and 2), we will celebrate! The Grammy Show is 4 and 5 days prior, which brings sacred geometry into their Media ritual. 👽 " -IG Post, @CircleSisters13
The bigger they come, the harder they fall. And ours was huge. Inspired and powered our artistic endeavors. We loved in the name of Black Power and stood side-by-side as we created our business. We were Love and loved by elders and on-lookers. We were young and smart and struggling to find our place in the world. We loved out loud and were welcomed as a young power couple. His friends became mine and mine loved him... Until his burdens were too heavy and his pain too deep for me to carry. Until his joke, his hustle... until I saw that I was his joke and his hustle. His pretty girl of the year, his East Side Lolita.. Until I tore myself away from his too much pressure on my lower back when I thought we were making love.... Because I am Love and thats enuff right?
And I lost (almost) everything. I kept me. I ran away with the pieces of me I could salvage. I ran away after I was thrown away for threatening the very man that threatened me... My rights of passage into adulthood confidant.. Gone. My business, my friends, my art... my words and my song... I had to leave behind. All I could carry was me....
Folks wonder why I dont come around anymore. Because they still worship him. And you know folks feel a need to choose sides. And he is Golden. And Im just the one who loved and left... The one from over there, the outlander-Eastsider.
Ive got stories for days. Most I keep to myself, or hide inside my poetry, or reserve for future short-fictional characters. Stories about Love... lost friendships..
Ive drowned and been carried back to the surface many times by Mermaids. Im the real deal folks.
So see My Love. When I ask you to not steal my sealskin... Please understand I need it. I owe the Mermaids; the Ocean. I owe their deep, dark mysterious chaotic Waters my life. Ive promised to return everytime the Moon says "Now."
Thank You Friday! As we lead up to the Royal Moon, we're getting the chance to dive darker and deeper into our emotional waters.. our motivations and triggers... I promise I will never understand some folks motivations, then again I also don't know their triggers... Alls I do know, alls I'm pressed to know is myself... "Know Thyself" is part of the ancient axiom... How? How to peek, then stare, then sit in darkness? Next to ghosts and spooks from past pains and disappointments? Forgotten thrills? For me, I'm finding that when I feel most uncomfortable, most anxious, most perplexed... that's it. That's the door I knock on... And sometimes it opens. Yesterday I was triggered. Rather than ignore my physiological response, the knot in my throat and gripping in my stomach... I accepted it as my defenses protecting me. Then, I addressed it as best I could. Which is enuff... Then I went on with my life.... Moon must'a approved my bootlegged therapy because my dreams were therapeutic. The symbols and scenarios playing in my minds eye led me to Peace! "I see me more clearly." So, I'm in a state of Thanksgiving and Acceptance. Again, I am clueless as to why someone would intentionally fuck around with my emotions? My livelihood? My reputation? I dunno... Perhaps they are avoiding their own shadows? Imma witch tho... I transmute that shit. Peace Friday💜 Thanks Boo😘 #wildwomenspirituality #circlesisters13 #CultureBlog #Zora42
Check Out my Blog and Poetry Book, "Zora 42". Link in Bio.
Some women do not masturbate for pleasure; they masturbate to make a political statement: to remind us that women do not really need men (or at least not as much and as frequently as every single male chauvinist and every single misogynist believes). Mokokoma Mokhonoana, On Masturbation: A Satirical Essay