loved and loving

it's almost noon.

i'm here at my desk...looking for something to hold my gaze until he wakes up.

and then i'll look at him.

i'm fighting the urge to watch him sleep.
i wanna put my fingers in his dreams and weave pretty pictures for him to look at.

...until he wakes up and looks at me.

i'm in one of those moods...
i wanna cook him brunch
make sure he's fed all day...

keep him smiling
earn forehead kisses and bottom squeezes that make me giggle.

i keep trying to think of things to write, but he pours out.
all brown skin and strong hands and soft lips...

guess that's what i'm stuck with today.

but i'm not complaining...



i am at home.
my home.
with my chosen scents and colors, my books and my familiar.

enjoying my kitchen.
eating my food.
savoring my appetite.

i have had the day to myself.
i have slept, awakened, bathed, and prayed in ways pleasing to myself.

i am full of myself
and life
and love.

and i am happy.



everything seems to be clearer. it's coming together. quickly. in totally unexpected ways.

sometimes you forget you've asked, and when the answer comes, it can be disorienting.

other times, you're working in the dark. you grope, putting things together, testing them. occasionally you get a sliver of light to work by, then darkness again. but then the dawn comes and you see that you've birthed a masterpiece.

that's how this feels.
i had to see the answer to remember the question.
i've been working, but by less than candlelight. powered by faith.

but now, finally, the sun's on the horizon.
in the new light, i'm amazed by what i've put together.

maybe i can do anything after all.


lazarus ditches

(a dream)

somehow i was in nigeria (i've never actually been) where i watched a man get killed. i and some others had been traveling with him and i knew he was in danger, so i called to him so he wouldn't walk into the assault. he smiled and said he'd be ok, that he was ready for whatever. then they shot him. his name was olusegbon.

i had the sense there were other people there. i seemed to speak with them, but i don't know that i saw them. although we were near what looked like a very large, modern office/retail building, it had a large ditch full of water in front of it.

after olusegbon was shot, i looked down in the ditch and saw several bodies lying face down in murky water. there were some men on the side of the ditch pulling people out. as they got their heads above water, the people in the ditch would stand up and walk out, perfectly fine. the longer i looked, the more bodies piled up in the ditch. the men just kept pulling...

last night, i dreamt about another ditch. someone was face down in the mud next to it--apparently one of my cousins. the person standing next to me (my mother? hers?) was complaining that she needed to get up and clean herself off. when i looked down at her, it was apparent that the ditch itself was some kind of power center/chakra/wormhole. it pulsated with the heat/energy waves emanating from it. the liquid was almost white, milky.

as i looked at it, i had the distinct feeling of something trying to overtake me, but i wanted to stay conscious, so i let it wash over me without succumbing. still, there was so much energy in the air, i alternately felt my heart pounding and surges of electricity through my body.

my cousin never moved/stirred...she seemed fixated by whatever she was experiencing. even though she looked unconscious/immobile--like the other men in the ditch--somehow it was obvious to me that she was fine, just...not moving. as if she were overtaken by the energy in the water.

such powerful images...


a moment out of time

i removed myself from the larger dance circle, taking a place beside my godsister and opting to do a simple two-step instead. omo sango, i simply cannot hear drums and sit still, but figured i'd be safe if i wasn't too close...

before i knew it, i felt surrounded; ancestral energy enveloped me, awakened by the rhythms, candlelight, shrines and offerings.

i thought i would cry, but instead my hands instinctively raised themselves in namaskaram and i shifted a bit...still two-stepping, but feeling myself drift away slightly. gradually, my body swayed side to side as my feet slowed.

the beginning of the end of me.

i didn't know how long the song would last, so i didn't want to surrender completely, but the pull was too strong to resist. infectious joy.

i allowed another to control my feet, shoulders, arms. i knew i was doing some dance i'd normally have to consciously learn--maybe even with some difficulty.

one of the many foremothers whose names i'll never know was teaching me to dance. was dancing through me. wanted to know how i had found home all the way across the water. grateful that her daughter was as moved by the beat as she once was.

the drums pulsated in my ears...i thought i had drifted towards them, or the master drummer had risen and danced across the room. i forced my eyes open for a moment and realized i had only moved about a foot to the left; the drums remained in a corner to my far right, just beyond the altar.

drums have come to greet me before...calling, calling calling...begging me to come and dance. come and move. come and be.

instead of fighting it off, i let the sounds wash over and through me, partially controlling the dance, partially letting it control me.

the drums faded, and she went with them.
i thanked her; she promised to come again. any time i wanted to dance.

just like the one who grasped the drum and beat out rhythms i couldn't know...

just like the one who wielded a machete to cut sugarcane and lent me her strength...

just like the ones who descended to let me know i was on the right path...

they love us
watch over us
are us.

adupe o



i've been having those deep, dark days lately. fading with the moon.
moods everywhere; dreams i try to remember, but can't always.
trying to keep one foot on this plane while longing for the next...

i may be marked for kabiyesile, but i can still walk the ocean floor.
sometimes it can make me feel unsettled, unbalanced, unusual.

but then he told me he loved all of me...

and i smiled.


dreaming of oshun...

as i prayed, i poured out some honey and it splashed all over me...instead of being annoyed, i smiled gleefully.

i licked it off my fingers, enjoying all of it...huge, golden gobs. it ran down my pantleg and i laughed.

and, suddenly, everything was just fine.



if i am your angel,
you're my avenging blade.

if i have any hand in your healing,
i know it's because you guard my sanctuary.



who can doubt our divinity when hearing a song like this?
i always wonder who the inspiration was...

i can't know how many times i've incarnated as a woman and/or a female of a species, but there has to be a reason those are the memories and dreams that have left the most lasting impression.

shape shifter




it came to me to add a phrase to my personal hallelujahs:

...and that is right and perfect and wonderful @ this time.

i'm sure y'all are aware of how bullshit notions of perfection can ruin perfectly good moments/weeks/months/years. hell, bullshit notions of all kinds abound in this society/culture.

to counter that, it's essential to learn to realize when something is deliciously right, right now.

that doesn't mean it'll be good for you next week. or even tomorrow.

but if it's good now, enjoy it. revel in it.

gratitude--even for the little things--multiplies blessings.



i walked in hoping i'd be able to get down some thoughts and feelings, but i can't seem to form the words yet. everything is just too amorphous and full of pure emotion and feeling...

but i am happy
and grateful.

the universe is conspiring to revert me
to my fuller-than-full,
brazen hussy,
pleasure-loving self.

...and i am ecstatic.


a story.

once upon a time there was a woman
and she met a man.

she loved the man through things
despite other things
and above and beyond the rest.

but the yang spilled across the curves and swirls, overcoming the yin...
too many arguments
bloody battles
days and nights alone.

the man was used to wielding a sword
but the woman couldn't weave light through the armor.

so she left.

heavy hearted

however, destined to never be alone for long, she soon encountered sweetness.
battle fatigue gave way to smiles
brilliant afternoons
long nights
and glittering laughter.

slowly, she laid down the sword and shield,
dusted off her honeypot,
and breathed
fresh air
in the presence of a truer reflection.

...thank you for being an element in the (r)evolution.


a castle surrounded by concrete...

ancestral dreams last night.

i floated in and out of consciousness as all kinds of people drifted around and through me...encouraging, blessing, simply saying hello.

i can never hear, remember, or translate it all, but i am grateful for the visit, and i am always glad to see them.

just a reminder of the shoulders on which we stand.


100 things

from: http://www.north-node.com/astrology-tutorials/eclipse

*The Solar Eclipse list*

You can do this anytime between the Solar Eclipse and the next Full Moon.

Take out a sheet of paper and a pen. Find yourself a nice quiet spot. On the paper, make a list of 100 things you want. Don't hold back! Don't let your inner voice tell you that you can't have it. It will be hard to think of things after the first 50, but keep at it. Be positive: "I will get a raise," not "I want a raise."


1. I will make some new friends.
2. I will have a beach named after me.
3. I will be my own boss.
4. I will save the whales.
5. I will have a new car.
6. I will have a Xena Warrior Princess doll.
7. My houseplants will live long and be green.

…and so on.

When you are finished, place your list in an envelope, seal it, write the date on it, and put it in a sacred place in your home. Or you could just bless it and stick it in a drawer. You have just asked for what you want.

This is how you plant seeds. After 1 year has passed, take out your list, and see which of these seeds have taken root in your life.

*The Lunar Eclipse meditation*:

You can do this anytime between the Lunar Eclipse and the next New Moon.

Same as the Solar Eclipse list, except this is a little harder. This time, think of the things in your life you would like to bring to a close, finish, or end. That contract you want to get signed, that job you want to finish. That guilty feeling. That unhealthy relationship. That nasty smoking habit.

Take some time to sit in a quiet space and breathe. Visualize the inner workings of that habit, the issue, the situation, as people. Give them names and faces! My addicted smoker and my inner doctor. My gentle self and my angry self. Visualize them each holding one end of a rope, like a tug of
war. They can see each other now, how can they better understand one another? How can they work together to achieve balance? Picture each one gently dropping their end of the rope.

You have just asked for assistance from the universe to clear out old energies and make room for the things you want to bring in. There is great power in this request.


use your words

...that's the message i'm working with right now.

so i need to write. often. i need to finish one of these half-assed projects that's been rolling around in my head for the past few years.

i suppose that's all well and good. at least it would be if i weren't so...

fiercely impatient
hot (as in warm. literally.)

...aching like a starving goddess with no living medium to remember her name.

it's probably underutilized and stagnant creative energy bubbling up to the surface.

i'd like it to shut up and go away. or at least simmer down.

but i suppose i'll have to bear with the discomfort until i determine how i'm going to use it...


thought for the day

my mother is love, sweetness, and abundance. sorceress supreme, nothing breathes or multiplies without her special power.

my father sees to it that his children want for nothing. ultimate father, husband, and politician; silver-tongued charmer so smooth even the baptists had to praise him.


why am i afraid?
why shouldn't i speak my heart's desires?
what could possibly lie before me that is not within my grasp?

i need to remember this on the difficult days...


tout respe

i wish i knew a song for you...
i want to sing the verses i hear in my mind and praise you in your own voice;
repeat the songs my ancestors use to wake me, announcing your arrival.

you are my peace. protective, sheltering calm.
purifying, loving and gentle, your energy completes me.

you are etched into my skin and i barely know you.

i wasn't lost, but you found me.

you touched me and i loved you instantly.
you called, and i answered.

by some miracle, i carry you in my blood.

many have forgotten, but i was chosen to remember. now i'm fumbling with the words to describe you. you've blessed and frustrated me with the ecstasy i thought only true mystics knew.

i want to rest in your cool waters or at your temple's door, but i have to wait. the other side of the family called first, and i have to finish my business there.

until then...

je t'aime, papa.
je mendie votre bénédiction
s'il te plait, papa, sejour avec moi.

i love you, papa
i beg your blessing
please, papa, stay with me


shimmer revisited

y'all have NO idea how well this worked...and is still working.

it's a beautiful, magnificent thing when you can believe in and exercise your ability to manifest bliss in your life.
i highly recommend discovering where your bliss/ase (power/gifts/talents) lie and hoppin' to it.  no matter where you are or how you feel right now,  you can make it happen. 

it's a process. take baby steps if you gotta. but do it. it'll make you feel good...   


pardon my shimmer...beautification in progress

having recently realized how deeply affected i am by beauty, i have decided to beautify my life.

i don’t mean this on a wholly superficial level, but more a project designed to entice and enhance the senses; indulge my sensual self with the goal of discovering my true loves, passions, desires, and needs.  it is also a means to spiritual symmetry and loveliness.

i am making an effort to dress in ways that are comfortable, yet flattering.  since i’ve (unintentionally) gone down about 1 size, i’m having to rediscover what fits, what doesn’t, how my body has reshaped itself.
i bought a lovely new journal on my birthday.  i’ve been carrying one kind of notebook or another with me daily for some time, scribbling thoughts and other things as they arise.  the new, beautified journal was part of a commitment to (a) buy no more anonymous, spiral notebooks and (b) no longer compartmentalize my thoughts/feelings/words (typically i’ll have the "daily" notebook, something for poetry, a diary for journaling, another for spiritual matters, etc.). 

the goal: regain my flow, let things spill out wherever they please. get messy.  become reacquainted with myself.

so don’t mind the extra honey and glitter sprinkled around wherever i may happen to be at any given moment.

i’m just working out a few minor details.


the dream

i could see the shirt slipping from my shoulders...
the slow, deliberate way he kissed my neck, collarbone, arms...

noted the symmetry in the way my neck turned to meet his lips and the arch in my back.

he was doing everything right,
and i didn't feel a thing.

i alternated between watching this scene and actually being a part of it, but my skin was a barrier, not a sponge. there was no electricity, no spark.

a perpetual motion mannequin.

i don't know if he entered me or just played at it.

it doesn't matter.
i never felt naked anyway.


the tale of the magdalene

i identify with her on so many levels...

Thalia Took, "The Tale of the Magdalene"

When I was young, and beautiful—how many tales begin this way? My youth fled long, long ago, and my body is now frail, but my mind is sharp, and this I will never forget—the true tale of my friend, my Teacher, my dearest beloved.

I was born the daughter of a beseiged people into an unjust world. The alien Empire that crowds this my homeland executes its Laws with cruel force and sets soldiers on every street corner who are always eager to demonstrate their power. My people are freely abused while allowed no recourse, until we are become like rabbits, starting at the slightest noise. We are powerless in our own land, and I rage at our God, whom I can no longer even imagine, for in my mind he has abandoned us, or has never existed.

I was young and beautiful when I first saw him. And he saw me, truly saw me—saw my spirit struggling beneath my rage as under a ruined building. He looked at me with such compassion, such knowing gentleness in his eyes, that suddenly I saw it clearly as well: my bitter hatred for God and this world, my useless rage and frustration that I had turned in on myself, my sevenfold anger that I had buried so far below I did not even know it possessed me. I saw the hurts done to my own bright soul for the first time, and in compassion for that soul I cried, as a child weeps at the war-ruined world—for there is no reason it must be so, only the folly of adults. So I wept for that child of me, and he comforted me as a mother, enfolding me in his humanity and warmth.

Through desert and mountain, down dry rivers to the poisoned inland Sea, I went with him. It was a hard way of rock and thorn, and I truly say I did not care, for I was with my beloved. He walked his life as he taught, and in his gentleness and passivity I saw a curious strength. He spoke of the peace and wisdom of the inviolate spirit, and the power of powerlessness—for he would not fight the conquerors, and by doing, so conquered them. For even an Emperor can have no power over another's soul; it is like trying to fetter sunlight.

I knew then, before the others saw it, that my beloved was on a divine mission, and also that brightness such as his cannot last. He knew it too, and said so, but in our love and fear for him we did not want to hear, and closed our minds to it.

Soon the soldiers came for him. As an added injustice, our own leaders had found his gentle words far more of a threat than the might of the Empire. They came for him during Passover, and God did not spare him.

They paraded him through the streets, humiliating and mocking him in public, to make a lesson of him to our people, one more demonstration of their power over us. They piled pain and indignity upon him until another would have recanted, and indeed he did weep. But not for himself; he wept for their ignorance and their poor trapped spirits, shackled within them.

Then, the hardest thing I have ever lived through.

Before our eyes the soldiers cruelly murdered him, and he died slowly and in great pain. I wept and wept to see my beloved in such agony, powerless to help and unable to avert my eyes.

When it was over, they allowed us to take his body to be buried. His mother and I wept together as we worked our women's work, anointing his body and wrapping it in linen, laying him in a borrowed tomb in a garden. Why is it that such sorrow and betrayal should again take place in a garden? Then they shut up the tomb with a stone, and I had to at last say farewell to my beloved.

For some time after I mourned before that door, unable to go on with my Love taken from the world. And on the third day a terrible sight: the tomb was open and his body gone, taken I know not why. In anger and hopelessness at this new outrage I cried and ranted, bent over in the garden, my hair in the dust. Then a gentle voice, as the voice of God, or a child: Lady, what is wrong? Why do you weep? Then he said my name, and I knew him.

I did not stop to reason: I leapt into his embrace. He felt real enough, warm and solid, though with my inner eye I think I knew he was gone to the spirit, and was indeed dead. For a brief time then he walked among us, and told of what he had seen, of the bright kingdom that would welcome us after death. But before long he was gone again, and my heart finally broke.

So I wait until that day, not far off now, when I will be with him again. He is like a star in the sky, and I am a rooted herb, clinging tightly to the dry, unnourishing dust of this life. But I know now that my God does exist, and that he and my Beloved are the same.


to: ogun, from: oshun

i wish i could bottle your scent for the nights you're away:
sandalwood laced with vetiver
forest floor leaves
a hint of caribbean-spiced mango
and african sunlight
...always wafting from the hollow in your collarbone.

i should make a mold of your arms to hold me,
but i don't think i can recreate your hands
or the warmth of your skin.

there's nothing to do but wait
for you to open and fill me
for me to encircle and pleasure you.

i'd like to talk to you
beyond speech
and reason
in our bed, the
alchemic laboratory
war room

i would love
to welcome you home.