How to Make Positive Change in the World

You have Power. The Power to make Change. The Power to love. The Power to put others at ease. The Power to support people who are doing things that we cannot. The Power to Sing, to Bake, to Coordinate, to Draw, to Take Care, to Learn, to Reach Out and to Protect our Mother Earth that needs us so much.

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Using that Power does not mean you have to be someone you are not. It does not need to lead to burnout. It doesn’t mean you have to confront others with your anger. It means that you count. You matter. We matter. And we need you to make things right, as our race as humans has made too many mistakes. If we do not undo them, together, we will not be here on this planet much longer.

Step into the River with us. We need you. We love you. We want to Dance with you. We are Moving together, Praying together, Speaking out together and as things are constantly changing, we will find our way. We Will Make it Right.

And we will restore love in places where love has been lost.

You matter. Your power is right here, right inside you. It might be covered up by many things, but it is there. And there are ways to express that power that are going to make you feel fantastic, not frustrated or depressed. Not even burned out. A lot has changed since the 60’s and if you haven’t been in touch with any sort of movement in the past 10-15 years, you are going to be really excited when you do.

Let me describe to you an amazing, nourishing and inspiring web of life that you can be a part of. We get to tap into this gorgeous ecosystem of humans contributing to positive change that spans this entire planet. It is dynamic, always changing and infinitely creative. It includes petition signers, carpenters, scientists and lawyers. It has great cooks, healers, midwives, parents and carpenters. It includes advocates, political organizers, direct action participants and teachers. It has artists and writers, dancers and speakers, coordinators and lovers. Every walk of life and every continent. It holds all faiths and sings heart-stilling prayers. There are spiritual activists and political activists and gratefully, a growing number of people who are both. We have our environmentalists and labor unions, wonderful storytellers and a whole lot of people who just show up where ever they are needed.

When we forget about this magnificent web, it can be very hard, but luckily, these days all we need to do is go online and search for it and we are connected again. We read and we watch and sometimes we shed tears of empathy with those people are working for. We sometimes weep in joy for what is truly happening, which is an ever blossoming of beauty and a passionate expression of life. We say thank you. Thank you all. You feed me. I am a part, too. I do my part, no matter how small, it is big. Bigger then you anyone can imagine. Because our state of being, our actions, our choices and our words ripple out to everyone that touches us, as we are changed by everyone that we touch.

So, what is your precious gift? Are you the one that can bring yummy food to the next volunteer event? Food nurtures community. It reminds people to take a break. It creates a space for socializing and relationship building. It makes people feel cared for. Did you notice that the word isn’t getting out about a great event coming up? Post it around, ask people to invite their friends. Take pics and post them later so our collective consciousness can be part of the good stuff. Are you good with tools? Look for a group that is building homes for the poor and homeless. Are you an artist? Bring forth the spirit and song of what we are all feeling to us in a beautiful way to feed our spirits as we move forward. Lawyers can represent our political prisoners. Networkers can connect people whose gifts coincide.  I could go on, endlessly, because the gifts that we hold come in an endless variety.

Some of us know what our gifts are. Some of us need to just show up and put our bodies next to others and say,”I care.” Eventually, we find what works for us. If you want to soul-search for your gift, think about what you have passion for. The element that brings out your power is your passion. Most of us care about an awful lot of things but some things just make our whole bodies react. There need be no explanation. This is where our power is. It is a deeply personal, deeply powerful expression of who we are. Underneath the fear, the apathy, the cynicism, the powerlessness is always passion. Passion that when, ignored or kept down, will make us sick. When we let it out, energy is allowed to flow and the world changes.

Activism does not mean anger. It means active, doing. We can no longer be inactive because those that are actively destroying the planet never stop.

Nobody wants to burn out. That is why we focus on what nourishes us the most. When we see people doing things that we care about but don’t have passion for, we are grateful for them and proud to be part of the family. When we see people doing things on a level that are beyond our capacity, we say, “Wow. Look at that. Thank you. What can I do to support you?” Supporting a front line activist is invigorating because they hold a lot of transformative fire. Sometimes just being around them changes us and makes us think of things we hadn’t thought of before. They often are channeling powerful visions for us as well. These people do ride the line of burnout, so giving them your time helps them to stay strong. Sometimes we need to make sure they are eating. Sometimes they need someone to hold space for them to speak their feelings. Always, we can find the little things that they can’t do because they are overwhelmed with the bigger things. These little things are not little. They are the platform from which others can do their work.

And then we go home and take care of ourselves. Our weaving interacts with other weavings as we make this world we live in together. We create our reality together.

Love is what we all want. Loving communities, policies that care for all peoples, leaders that make informed decisions and allocate resources in ways that provide healing to our planet.

We are this planet.

OK, I can’t resist referring to Merry’s speech to the Ent and to Pippin in the Two Towers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AXgWZyb_HgE

It makes me cry every time I see it.

Blessings,
Tasara

How to Pray for Donald Trump

lovetrump

This can be done in a moment. It can be thought of as a state of mind. It can also be done in ceremony, taking time for each part of this process to deepen and develop.

1. Think of Donald Trump. Visualize him just as you see him. Don’t worry about doing anything right now. Place him in a golden circle. Place the symbolic vision of his more enthusiastic supporters in the circle as well.

2. Think of all the people he reminds you of. People in your life. People you have witnessed in the media. Even fictional characters. Put them in the circle as well.

3. Think of the parts of yourself that get angry and closed down. The parts that are quick to call people names, to want to be better than everyone else, that parts of you that are capable of saying mean things to other people. Put all of that into the circle as well.

4. Now breathe and keep looking. Just look. Notice the rhythms and patterns that are in common of all of what goes through this circle. This is an archetype. Or many archetypes. The schoolyard bully. The tyrant. The abuser. The rapist. The bigot. This can be male and it can also be female.

5. Keep breathing. Witness. Hold space. What is in the circle is no longer specific to any person but the greater over-arching energy signatures that govern this scary, assaultive, bigoted, behavior. Just keep watching and breathe. Give yourself nurturing love and know that witnessing is a powerful, powerful form of healing. Just hold space in silence and watch. Try not to react. Try to learn and hold space.

6. Now focus on the weaknesses of this archetype, this way of being, these patterns. Notice the pain and the loneliness, the private misery and the fear. See the bleeding. Acknowledge the bitterness. Hear the inner crying, so, so deep that those the hold it cannot hear it themselves. Be present to witness the extent of it, for as long as it takes.

7. Witness the gifts of this archetype. Notice the passion. The energy. The quickwittedness and humor at times, even if used to harm others. Notice the willingness to act, even if the action is violent. The willingness. The readiness. It’s nature as well the fact that it is misplaced. Notice the yearning to be in community. To belong.

8. Hold space and begin to generate love for the circle of gold. If it is difficult for you, call to your spiritual guides for assistance. Sing if you feel called to. Drum and rattle. Play your music. Even dance. See the humanness with all it’s gifts and foibles, pain and pride inside the golden circle and say,

“I believe in you.

You are welcome in our family.

There is a place for you when you are ready.

We will welcome you home.”

and continue until you are finished. Say only things that you can say sincerely. Don’t force yourself to say something you don’t feel.

If you can do it with complete sincerity be sure to say, “I love you.”If you were able to say the other things, it will be true.

9. Bring yourself back to everyday consciousness. Ask for a blessing to keep you strong on the path and go on with your day without looking back.

10. Repeat as necessary.

When we do this work, we are shifting the templates from which people behave on a primal level. Hatred and retaliation has always brought more hatred and retaliation. Since ancient times people have used their knowledge and mastery in magic and shamanism in violent and retaliatory ways (as well as in healing ways). Now is the time to collectively recall the signatures and patterns of Power With from the deep wells of nourishing, raising its form, deliberating its complexities and rejoicing in its creative offerings.

But first, we must call our wounded home. Or at least let them know they are welcome. As much as we are capable.

Blessed Be and Much Love to you.

Time in the Lady’s Cauldron

The orchid will bloom in her own time.

The dirt will lie, perfect patient receiver of the rotting life. It will change slowly as pungent passes and chaos reorganizes into readiness.

Then she will lie down too and listen as everything passes by her. She will dream her dreams and sort through all the possibilities of what to be. She will listen and listen until she remembers and then she will yearn with all of her might, her yearning the only power within her purview. Her yearning can only be truly answered by that which makes orchids, so any wrong turn, any receiving of haphazard medicine will shape her asunder.

whiteorchid

photo credit:  thank you Hans Partes

So, patience, patience.

She yearns, her little mind filled with orchid visions and of the sun kissing her buds.

One day, in delight, she realizes that her yearning has burst her shell and she has become a seedling, thrumming with tender excitement. She dawns in her stretching and she ever reaches. Her intoxicated wonder bursts forth with her bloom and then dances a wild interplay with her new world, filled in the diversity of the cosmos. She receives and receives, sure of her vision under the nurturing great forces of moon, sun, water and wind.

Be an orchid my friends, bide time. We cannot stay forever in the cauldron, but we cannot leave until the Goddess opens the way, lest we run our dreams back into darkness. As decomposition turns to fertility, as the path is etched in dreamtime, each step is a long passage, each a juicy time of medicine to be schooled by and digested.

Our yearning is synchronistic faith and singular force of creation together. The nature of yearning is to birth, to co-create with the Gods. Hold this, my ones. Nothing is more important than the clear, unprecedented arrival of your bloom.

Blessed Be.

by Tasara

The Hag

When the hag invites you to tea, beware, because she is going to eat you for dinner. You will go down to her cave beneath the oldest oak tree and hang your hat on her door. It will start off nice, but everything you thought you wanted or needed will be stripped away with her look from across the table. Her gaze will stop time, it will, as the blood rushes from your veins.

She will say without saying it, “I have seen you and I see you, bones.”

and if you quake she will not care.

“Truth is truth”, she says. “It is what is.”

You will not be able to charm her. You will not be foolish enough to lie to her. As she mixes the tea, her frozen look will whisper to you without speaking,

“I have been hurt more than I could ever be. I have lost it all to the very last, my children, my pride, my plans and my hide. I am alone and no one can touch me now, because I want nothing. In wanting nothing, there are no ears for illusion’s siren songs. And having lost all of this, I have lost my own fear.

You will look back at her, and drown in your foibles. And she will watch you in your drowning.

If you survive yourself over tea, then she will dance for you, her wretched dance of pain and broken clattering. Will you withstand, as her body shakes in terrible jerks, a show, a vessel of power for a raging volcano? Her eyes host lightening bolts and her frame surges. With every gesture, she has become matter of fact, and in that rawness, her sex will have awakened without her knowing it – because it has become something else. Something not found in moving pictures and magazines. It has become something normal and personal. In her rawness, her scorched throat will have been quenched, and the air will feel authentic.

And after she has cooled, if you can sit with the rock in her heart and look back her gaze with love of your own, then you will be laughing at the night and she will laugh with you as the moon blisters bright and the owl howls at the river.

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When Spring comes, the hag will go outside and fall into the earth as the Sun begins to warm her. She will lie there, rotting, waiting to die, wishing to die. She will even leave her body a ways but then she will be driven home, because in her belly will be new life and she will be drawn to it’s light. She will rock and hold herself. She will hide her baby as long as she can. But the Winter will be over and she’ll be drawn to rise, uncontrollably, to surrender herself once more to the labor of love, a love everlasting and relentless.

by Tasara

Oligarchy Spell Revealed! The Imposition of Images and the Internalization of Black Magic

There is an insidious black magic woven into the customs of our current ‘civilized’ societies. Its source is greed and its result is loss – loss of self, of values and in every interpretation of the phrase, loss of life. It has a specific mechanism of which we are all familiar with. It is in plain sight, the best place for something lethal to hide; our acclimation and apathy fuels its seat as it digs in deeper the longer it remains a function of our everyday lives.

trapped

It started with the road-side hucksters, the common jesters (not the bards) and the politicians. As the tools to proliferate communication developed over history, this very simple technique of manipulation became the staple of every marketing campaign across the world. People go to school to learn how to form these spells. They do school projects and take exams in how to manipulate your emotions, so it’s important to know what’s being targeted at you.

This is how it works:

Phase One. In order to make someone vulnerable, one must make that person lower their guard, so the best way to do that is to entrance them. To get them ungrounded and a bit drifted away from their center so that they are more impressionable. More open to suggestion. More open to believing something that just isn’t true. Here comes the glamor spell. It is a sexy body. It is a cooing baby. It is a cool glass of water, a day in the mountains. All of these things are meant to invoke emotion and open our field. We might even feel emotions like disgust, shame, self-hatred or sorrow. Maybe it is the adrenaline rush of extreme violence. We all know that the more acclimated to violence we are, the more severe it has to be in order to affect us. We understand this, and think that this understanding protects us.

In any case, once we are in that state, feeling that emotion, phase Two is put into play.

Phase Two is creating a link or an anchor between your strong emotion and whatever it is that the creator of this spell – this curse – wants to lodge deep into your psyche. If you are feeling a positive emotion, then their product or idea will be presented as a path for you to get to that emotion in the future. If you are feeling a difficult emotion, then their idea or product is presented as a way to escape that feeling, – that was just invoked in you, an emotion based on a situation that usually was not even based in real life.

Often, all that is inserted, deep into your psyche is a logo. This is called branding. Once the anchor is made, all the company has to do is to present the logo in order for that emotion to be re-invoked.

Think about it. iPhone or Android? Mac or PC? How do those two words feel inside of you? Are your reasons based in any truth? Aren’t both companies engaged in destroying the planet?

Whatever the image, it becomes a handle that can be pulled at a future time. It can be as simple as that, or it can be the building block of a more complicated language that is all rooted and hooked deep in different parts of your psyche.

The machine of incessant images has been able to create value systems that even if we know that we do not subscribe to, we are pulled into and shamed by. Only skinny can be beautiful. The only kind of wealth that has any value is of money. Young is people. Only white people really exist. By refraining from showing images of normal lives and only showing images of imaginary life, everyone starts to lean towards trying to live imaginary lives. We have become puppets.

At this point, Phase Three, all that is needed in order to portray a whole lot of messages without even having to say them, is to present a recycled archetype that was created by this system long ago.

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Phase Three. The internalization and eventual regurgitation of the entire process. This is where, without prompting or further brain-washing, people take it upon themselves to continue the patterns of entrancing in order to fill their own personal and small business needs. It’s a dog eat dog world. Everyone else is doing it, so I must too.

The destructive virus of thought-form creation is even in our alternative, progressive subcultures. Subcultures that aren’t run by corporations, that don’t have to be that way, that are supposed to run on a different set of values. Unfortunately, until people are able to root out their internalized mechanisms, they will still be trying to fit in, to be ‘someone’, to climb a ladder when we don’t believe in ladders, to give preference to those with shallow, sparkly qualities that are not nourishing to anyone, to glamor others in order to ‘survive’. Who gets most of the attention? Who is collecting the money? Who is given promotion into the ‘cool’ positions? It’s exactly the same game as in mainstream culture. The images are not the same; they are a little bit different. But they are the same.

We have all seen spiritual teachers, yoga teachers, public speakers trying to enamor people to want to take their classes, who use their sexual energy to draw people in. We have seen dogma manufactured that is designed to make us wonder, to make us look outside ourselves for happiness and fundamentally doesn’t really make a lot of sense. But it still gets repeated over and over, because it serves those who want you to think of them as your source of wisdom and revelation.

There is a big difference between commercial advertising and someone beaming in their authentic, unique light, sharing their medicine so others can find theirs. We have all had enough of people casting glossy projections of themselves in order to hook people into wanting to be like them, but we allow it to continue. We allow it by giving these people our energy. Many of us actually want to be taken on a ride because it’s much more like eating a chocolate chip sundae than doing the work within. This is the where the loss comes in. We give our precious, divine energy, time, money to forces, companies and people who do not have our best interest in mind and actually are willing to go to psychological warfare to get what they want. It pulls us more and more outside of ourselves. It can pull and pull until we don’t know what happened or who we are anymore.

This, my friends, is addiction.

Phase Four, the most lethal phase, is when both the source and the receiver of the black spell becomes ourselves. We mentally impose pictures over our own experiences, comparing them to illusory images we have seen in the outside world and then we give our experience a grade. Am I having fun? I am attractive? Did I do that like the guy on the show I liked? Would they think I was crazy? Does this mean that I am getting closer to the life that I have been shown? Am I doing this right?

We think that we should be happy – all the time. Not just content or at peace with the wide spectrum of life, but blissful. If we are not the kind of happy we think we should be, we impose images on ourselves in order to invoke the emotion we want. Then we run to a product or we put music on to drown out our true feelings. Or we create flowery dogmatic language to describe our reality in a way that makes it more epic-like. But nobody lives an epic, not like in the movies. Actually, the epics which are our true lives are far more interesting and fruitful, it’s too bad Hollywood wouldn’t just get a clue on that. How about a show around the inner workings of a blue collar town where all the characters are at work or running to get their kids or at the grocery store?

Repercussions

We all know this stuff but do we really think about it enough? As children, we naturally modeled ourselves to those around us. We had no scope of the world and human behavior. We were trying out ways of being. Many of us had very mixed up big people around us to show us what love was supposed to be. But we were trusting of those big people. We didn’t know any better. The thing is, if we never got a chance or a challenge to figure out for ourselves what is right for us, what our values are, we are still susceptible to outside forces to tell us how to think.

Because the media has become our parents and the strong comfort of reliable friendships is not presented to us anymore, we meet someone we like and wonder if they are going to be the one to take us away from our lives to an permanent castle of love bliss. We look around the world and we see the downcast, the millions of people who are not rich or skinny and we blot them out in our minds. This goes for people of color as well. If they don’t exist in fantasy land, we don’t want to engage with them in the real world.

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[art by Aeryn Davies]

 This is called marginalization.

The revolutionary battleground in countries like ours is not out in the streets. Oh no, we are a “free country”. We would see no need for that. Besides, we have become so apathetic that we would not know where to begin or who to target, since the incessant mental attacks comes from every corner in current times. Every corner.

We owe this to ourselves. We have to stop thinking that the world of adults is full of grownups and strive to be one. If we don’t extricate ourselves from this twisted, sticky web, no one will do it for us. We can’t withdraw from this black magic without withdrawing from its loudest sources. We have to stop looking around the corner hoping something better is coming around. We have to commit, to ourselves and the life of authenticity, which is the only life that can bring true satisfaction.

Even so, we could invest great amounts of time and money in therapy finding ourselves, but the moment we are strong and ready to rejoin the world, we will find that the world has not changed. Yet. The barrage of mis-messages will still be there, challenging our true values without cease. No one can withstand that without significant spiritual support and clear boundaries around what goes in their cauldron. So we need each other. We can’t do it alone, even for ourselves. We can’t shut down entirely. We are social creatures and we are part of this world. Metaphysically, isolation leads to death, but in this world, overexposure is another kind of death? Managing this, navigating this is our puzzle.

First step, is to clean house and get to know our values.

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Our Sacred Cauldron is our inner vessel. It is our bodies, our minds, our very souls. What we choose to expose ourselves to, is how we take care of this vessel, this tabernacle. This means media, food, people, music, communities. We choose what is good for us. We have to stop trying to live other people’s lives or fantasy lives and live our own.

We need to get away from the swarm of messages, get off the high speed train, the Ferris wheel, the pheromone ride, the puppet dance – and stop running around, slow the fuck down and be more present with the people that we call our friends. We need remember to listen within and without and let arise that which is singing underneath the debris of catastrophic psychological and spiritual warfare. This song is a pure song, we know, because it arises by itself with no prompting. We need to trust that life is inherently resilient and that the fresh inspiration that comes from a real sunrise or the gait of a heron -not the photoshopped pictures of them that we place in front of them – will always be real. These are the types of things that cannot be changed or marketed.

Life is something to behold, not to manufacture. The images between ourselves and our lives can be eradicated, first by disassociating from their sources, then by nourishing that which is nourishing and real to us. If you don’t know what is nourishing to you, be excited, be still. Your body will tell you when you find yourself trying something new and relaxing into joy. Maybe some of you will find joy.

There is so much to learn about nourishing the good in life, about holding space for all parts of the cycles of life, death, sorrow, the delicious mundane and joy in our lives. For now, hopefully there has been enough said here for you to be able to understand and take apart a powerful mechanism which binds so many of us.

Knowledge and discernment is power. Real power.

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by Tasara

Mapping

Scars mark the way to future conflict.
Their beauty still me

as I bend to scoop
cold water
on my face.

There I am.

I would not recognize myself
without them
for want of a compress,

begging,

soothe my presence.

(late 90’s)

—————————————-

I caste out a spider web and it sticks to their faces. It sinks in, penetrating their soul until I can see every pattern inside them. I draw from the pattern.

“Is this the way? Is this the way?”

I bring the pattern unto myself and try to fit into it’s shapes, to see if I will feel better.

“Is this the way? Is this the way?”

spiderweb

It is not the way. But I am so lonely. So I dip into my spider bucket and I try again. Again and again, onto the same person or different persons. Persons who look happy. Persons who look loved.

There is nothing left in my spider bucket and my imprints are jumbled and cross-sectioned inside of me, telling me what to do in so many ways that I do not know myself anymore.

“Is this the way?” “Is this the way?”

I am less lonely, because of all the voices. But I am less happy. And now I must be away in order to untangle the mess.

What is my pattern? What is my pattern? Does it run through me freely? Is it made of ideas or is it the song of my own soul?

The spirits sing. The spirits shout towards me. They say do not waste your precious life being anyone but yourself! Do not waste your precious, precious time..not exploding into the rapture of your precious, precious self, a song that no one can ever or will ever be able to sing but you. If you don’t, we will miss it. You will miss it. You must share yourself with the world. You must find the flower and care for it like it is your very own. Because it is the one thing that is.

I put on my mask, poured hot from the kiln and pounded into a shape only I can describe. The marionette strings are high, up into the world where no one can reach them. I dance, and it is not my dance. It is the dance of a jester, one who calculates how one will be received. I am happy. I am received and well, my brooches are colorful and dancing.

But my heart is deep within and my heart is hidden from all of you. For you are the enemy. My wiles and my smiles are meant to weave other webs, the kind I can sleep in and dream lullabyes sung to me by made up sweetness. But it’ll do. It’ll do fine as I do not ask much of anyone besides their praise. My heart is closed in a way that even I do not know it.

If I ever want to find true love I will have to get alone. Cut the marionette strings, consider the mask of power and lie still while my heart beats quietly.

“Is this the way? “ “Is this the way?”

My little heart speaks to me in syllables unspeakable. The spirits are silent, waiting to hear me stir in the darkness, to come clean with my own blade of reason, to feel the truth inside me.

Years pass and I am still lying on the dark earthen floor. I am taking in the butterflies. I am considering my past. I am looking at the edges of things, where they were not serving me before and will not again if I continue forward. I am watching great forces move across the horizon. I do not want to make a move, for I have not changed. I do not know who I am.

There is nothing. There is nothing and there is nothing. Once again, I am nothing. There is no master pattern to map and there is no self to hold onto. I am a vessel. There is nothing but movement and change. There is no expression but song. The kind of song that burst forth unprepared for with no warning. I am a song and I have lost my way.

But there is no way and stillness, eventually, only leads to death.

song

by Tasara

——————————————–

“Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road– Only wakes upon the sea.

Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.”
Antonio Machado, Campos de Castilla

The Fox Awaits

zao-fox-village-japan-26http://en.japantravel.com/view/zao-fox-village

She has those glimmery eyes, you know. We are all acquainted with her glimmery eyes, those mysterious glints come through the many windows that she steps through.

She shifts and we lose her, but we know she is still there. We know from the feel, prickling on our skin. We know from the whispers sifting through our spindle.

She moves and we don’t notice, for she is sly. She comes when she wants to and and where she goes, we do not know. She is free. She passes through the most impossible of barriers. She walks right through, bringing us with only a touch, a lick on the cheek, a nip on the shoulder.

Come to me, my fox. Bring me into your mysteries. Bring me out of this into that. Sift through the mysteries and lead me to void. Lead me to rabbits, to chickens, to grapes hanging so sweetly right out of reach. Let me watch your leap. I feel your pelt brush against my skin as we pass, we pass through, into the oblivion of sense which makes sense in the multiple perspective of scents and gobbling.

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