The Power of Sound: Part IV
Yearning
At first, I became unstuck. I took leave and I used it well.
And that small voice grew louder from the depths of my womb.
✨
Yet, the Black Wolf called to me,
And I learned the layers of lust,
Treading along winding paths
Of sand, mud and dust.
🐺
Imminently, my feet wondered,
As my womb voice called me North.
With one month of release,
Free and solo I set forth
To my farthest boundary, and yonder.
In rolling dunes of soft white
I danced to the setting sun.
Desire rapidly rising as mantra,
As I came to meet the shadow one.
From my sacral, I felt the pull,
Threaded desire drawing me full.
Black Wolf worn proudly
Centre left of frame.
And reacquainted with Passion,
Her power arose, untamed.
Ignited amber flame.
🔥
Following the turn of the end of the world, as we had known it, I decided to take action and say ‘Yes' to that voice.
Once I had ceased ignoring that small voice, she became a guiding light.
I found a way to taste the boundaries. I began an attempt to step beyond the horizon I knew and let my feet carry me to where my heart longed to be. Yet, with a safety net; ensuring the possibility to fall back into the world that would so readily consume me.
My feet and my heart carried me north, beyond the equator, to foreign sands and a way of life I had never known.
Layers of fog yet to fall away and the numbness in my body yet to be shaken, I allowed myself to simply follow. I listened to Her yearning, seeking soul’s redemption.
The world as we knew it unhinged,
Death of old and birth of new,
We began to wake up, en masse, an awakening.
But before we could wake from our slumber, our dream world,
We had to be shaken.
✨ 🦅 ✨
My heart and my womb whispered to me: Mexico.
So I travelled (north) east to the land of the sun gods, the great soaring eagle and the wild winds of change. To a land where death is celebrated as a rite of passage, a natural component of the wheel of life.
I’ve never been one for the tourist traps. I wanted to escape. Escape from the numbing chaos of the world I knew. Escape from the safe job and safe boyfriend and safe life path I had seemingly settled for. Escape from the normative and the expected. Escape from the judgement of others.
I did not know, yet, that judgement was mine.
I planted myself on a small, relatively unknown beach — unknown to most except the locals, who became the loving family that showed me how to live again.
It was also known to thousands of marine turtles: The inspiration for my stay there. My new family were those connected to a determined marine biologist who had set up a campanmento tortuguero along a beautiful 13 km stretch of the Pacific. Olive Ridleys were the main visitors, though I was blessed to witness the hatchlings of a rare black turtle — officially the East Pacific green sea turtle — scrambling their way along the sand to the water's edge and letting the waves sweep them in, cheered on by dozens of school children. An experience that will, no doubt, stay in my mind for the rest of my life.
The most special moments were bearing witness to the mother’s journey. Travelling back to the beach of their own birth, driven by instinct, to labour through 80 to 130, or sometimes more, eggs. Then, sealing up her nest with deep trust, she returns once more to the sea to drift on the currents of the great mother’s waters.
Sadly, in today’s world, her nest would very likely be disturbed.
The marine turtle’s journey is a very difficult one.
We made sure the babies of the mothers we witnessed were protected, as best as human hands can offer, from the thieving poachers and predators. They were protected until they made their own journey from the safety of the nest to the ocean's wild waves. From there, we could only offer our prayers.
We were like guardians offering a precious yet tiny window, seeking to defy the odds somewhat, to increase the opportunity for the turtles to survive.
Those majestic creatures taught me a lot about living, and with deep trust.
They also rekindled a flame of childhood longing that had been snuffed out by the fear of scarcity. A longing to work with Her. A longing to spend my days deep in Mother Nature and offer her my careful, loving attention. A longing to see my hands kissed by earth and sand, my body strengthened by physical labour and my mind eased by the reassuring signs of ecological restoration.
I had pushed aside my childhood desires when I moved into adulthood. Knowing an experience of scarcity and faced with a repeated argument, “there is no money in environment,” I had accepted the business world as my fate.
But I was drowning in that world.
✨ 🐢 ✨
Amber flame rekindled
Passion rose within,
But soul being denied,
Passion turned to desire,
and the intimacy of flesh.
Acquainted with the shadow one,
Black wolf on chest,
Offering sensual love for the womb,
And amber flame became fire.
🔥
⚕🔱🕉
Deep into mysticism of the East,
Meditating hours
Of song bowl vibrations
And converging Western theology.
123
The fire of Intuition rekindled
I voyaged to alternate universes;
Foreign lands and pilgrims,
Sharing plump fruit in the palms of hands.
I tasted the courage of the lioness
As she stalked her desires,
Padded etchings across grassy plains.
*
On orchestral notes,
Played with silken strings of self and values,
I rode into the deep,
Into the dark work of shadows.
Throwing of the mask
And laden cloak of expectations
I bared the marrow of my bones.
*
I sung to sun and the moon and the stars
Under skies of intergalactic beings
And I knew they could hear me.
And they responded —
We shall travel on sound
With chimes and bells
Interspersing.
*
Sound expresses the soul
Bypassing cognitive mind
And discovering mysteries
We never knew existed.
II
Guanyin is the one who hears the suffering of the world.
But the king of frogs,
He goes underwater
Into the depths of unconsciousness.
The Mayan calendar foretold the end of a cycle, the end of the world as we had known it, but not the end of the world.
Author’s note:
Hello, dear reader. Thank you for being here. This story is part of a longer tale that is slowly unravelling within me. It’s been a while since I wrote the original poem that foretold this unravelling, (pieces of that poem are incorporated into each part). Yet, as we’re collectively discovering, the world is shapeshifting. I am shapeshifting along with it and as I transform, the truth of each part of my poem unveils a little more of the depth of consciousness from which it came.
You can read the original poem and the first part of this story here.
If you would like to continue with me on this journey of self-discovery, remembering and rebellion, stay tuned for Part 5: Becoming.
