Moonlit Skies Energetic Pulling into Self-Knowing

Moonlit Skies Energetic Pulling into Self-knowing

Shapeshifting Animal Beings Entering Daily Life

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash


Death of a salesman — beginning of self-inflicted, wounded inner child — turning to the spirit world for guidance — assurance of a place gone mad, it is time to step into now. Self-doubt still lingering, preparatory ceremonial space opened — gaining strength for battles to come.

Prequel begins with a quiet evening to self, special elixir prepared, drank — awaiting guidance from the spirit world to commence. Whispers of animal kingdoms, plant worlds, and extraterrestrial vibratory translations into heart-song for healing self and collective at will.

Remnants of a broken child and glimpses of evil spirits once held in root centers of physical shell begin dancing with cosmic, universal whole — losing its grip on power at hand. Excised, Mongolian friends and healers are coming to Oljita’s aide, blowing smoke for clearing energies of twisted fate.

Healed, whole, holy, oneness with all there is, ready for battle, not knowing when or where the shoot-out at ok corral taking place. Armored up, with little but a word in heartfelt dragon’s breath — once feared, now tamed and trained for clearing a whole fucking battlefield.

The call comes in, MoFo Bros invitation to jam and excitement to ride the vibrations of creative forces — but here is the kicker, “a friend has asked to see you, hoping to get on a clearer path.” Agreed, accepted — ancient call to bringing the light of the first world center stage.

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Disarray, dissonance, and struggle between Mo and Fo, still uncertain who is who, we step into a valley of death, baron deserts wicked tongue lashing out like wounded animistic being hungry for more death consuming energetic feeding.

Cloak applied to self, drumming, tapping mighty sword along the starboard side, port side open, docking to sacred truths, holding grounds for greater forces at bay. Inward journey, holding ground for band-mates soul, feeling uneasy, restlessness and anger mounting, skinwalker or oni, malevolent nonetheless, Seidhr steps in to greet the unfriendly.

Not alone, accompanied by P’aqo, Mambo, Bagshi, Boo, Kahuna, and Wakan Tankan to boot, calling out the oni — removing claws dug so deep into the lost soul — sludge of a thousand deaths, thicker than La Brea suffering from depths of unknown.

Energy, entities hold removed, floating about with agitation and excitation for harm and malady, seeking out a vessel to live and breathe more fear into the world. Pleading case, facing evil spirit one on one, charging to go now back whence it came — Mo maybe Fo gets stabbed twice, spiking energies attacking the unfortunate bystander.

Showing our shape-shifting evil spirit in human form to the door, not knowing if it will return — band-mates integrating and discussing the last set of discord. Oljita tells the tale to one — spirit still apparent — bouncing off Mo and blasting Fo.

Crashing sounds falling upon band room, Fo falling into equipment, “Man down!” “Oh man, what just happened?” The others witness evil fleeting moments through time-lapse mystery, adjacent angelic presence flapping wings of peace and restoration upon inner walls.

Oljita departs, shaking his head to answered call, awe-inspired truths thinking aloud, “this is who I am.” Rest now, weary heads, fear not of evildoers all around, they come to the blow like the wind — no power over the forces standing at backsides of the righteous.

Photo by Hunter Harritt on Unsplash


Family disperse, call arrives from Mo, still unsure if he is Mo or Fo, “Can we meet?” Agreed upon the terms set forth by the creative winds, a perfect storm has passed, integrating sounds with streams of consciousness commencing in sacred space.

Animals gather for stories as old as time, battle of the minds, good versus evil, recalling events dating back to the beginning of stage informational tune. Peaceful, gathering bathing sounds of natural beingness — basking in openness, the oneness of all there is.

Dense fog, rolling in — mercury raising ten to twenty, sweating, mosquitoes biting at residual deliberation. Edginess returns momentarily, anger, uneasy feeling lifting Oljita to his feet. Grabbing sword, tapping sounds from spirits breath, Smokey Joe fires up a cloud greater than a nuclear explosion — covering the two in cleansing winds of ancient times, battle commences one last time.

With armies behind the mighty Oljita eradicating darkness once again, peace is restored, and they collapse into their seats, deeper into the cosmic realization that evil spirits, ghosts, malaise dissipating to unknown origin. “Whoa! That was weird,” explains Mo while Oljita begins churning a purging feeling and exploding energetic beings into mother’s bosom for digesting and transmutation of reality.

One more song, sung by warriors remaining — “we’d like to thank you for coming out to the show, hope you’d join us again for the MoFo show.” Unlike anything before — magical, enchanting sounds, stirring deeper understanding for all who come to listen, thank you for the Great Mystery empowering us all to join in the show.

The tale ending in great confidence of who Oljita has become, lingering ideas of self-doubt feeling with the darkened sludge-grappling stronghold of evil dwellers unwanted presence, returning back into oblivion.

~Ani Po

Much gratitude for those who take time to read, ponder and allow the inner workings of self to come forward. Grateful for the feedback, love shared, and more importantly the Dance with Inspiration. Deep Peace.

Joseph Lieungh

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