Accepting Cosmic Powers

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Photo by RUSLAN BOGDANOV on Unsplash

Accepting Cosmic Powers
Tapping untapped potential

There was always a knowing of sorts, life’s percipient, uncertain what to call it, energetic being my thoughts going with the flow. Lost treasure has fallen into the abyss of possibly never returning, barely able to climb out, surfacing from Davey Jones’s locker. A gift, choosing to witness self-recognizing gifts, hand given, spirit felt gifts carrying tunes of transmuting thoughts.

I fail to eloquently sit, writing of meadows and blissful breezes, transfixed and caught by the natural flow of being in succession. Attempts to quiet the mind, yielding only a symbolic infinity symbol pitching itself from inner-realms, outer existence remaining amongst the stars aligning constellations, two owls demonstrating two-sides to every coin, sharing in song and vibration of all existence adduce.

Fast-forward or rewinding to a time of deeper understanding, witnessing another fall victim to self-inflicting egoist movements resulting in hammer slicing brow of the left and dislocation of the pointer finger itself. She called upon the healer outside of self, asking in return to help this poor fellow, willingness to do what is necessary for this lad.

“I can help you help him.”

I am not certain of what you ask of me, not knowing what you speak of.

“You know reiki, no?! That will be enough for this moment. Just do whatever you reiki people do.”

Observing another pull energetic burnt flesh, wounded soldiers from inner beings of a child-like being before me, in awe, never seen before, this energetic movement of such calling out to healers arrival from spirits and far away galaxies – Everyone praying over him, blessing him with a light never seen before.

Thus began the tale, swirling energetic beings circling my atmospheric auric field, twirling, cincturing about, “hold out your hand” is what I heard next before climbing into tornadic thought floating before my eyes. Hand out, energetic beings now circling in the palm of my hand, eyes wide-opened to another galaxy within another galaxy, on and on, limitless imagination taking form.

“Can you come and clear the energy where my mother lives?”

Next call leaving me befuddled. Yes, of course, words just flowing from spirits lips through my own.

There I was, drum and rattles in hand, resting on Spirits’ Promise “show up and we will do the rest,” a gentle beat began to call the others, residence not of the physical world. They were trapped between, tormenting residence in the physical, mother unable to sleep or rest easy. Others have witnessed these beings too, lashing out, expressing their snaggleteeth, tort and songs demise, breathing fire from beyond, whole complex unrest.

Singing an invitation to come and sit, sacred fire calling us all to dance with a natural sense of who we are. Real or unreal, residential spirits came, curious and charmed by melodious sounds of maestro’s voice singing ancient songs of dance and inspiration. Purgatories gates opening, calling their friends with humble requesting invitations of their own, “come and see! He sings to us. He is going to take us home!”

Beginning with a gentle breath, sounds, and songs of transformation, maestro carrying them from this world, the waiting place, purgatory sans heavenly beings to the great beyond, where unified body, mind, and spirits reside. One by one, they left, with maestro’s gentle invite, follow the smoke, it will take you home, the last one giving a loving smile.

“Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for taking us home.”

A single verse, multitudes evacuating, second is the ode to the healers before, giving thanks for their arrival, helpers and dragons alike, beings from Mongolia and South America nodding in approval, singing a song of the ancients. Mother steps in, whistling her own carried tune, lost whence her speech gave out, unable to be in the present. At that moment, she became young and whole again, singing aloud for the others to hear. She and maestro sharing in a song of the ancients, carrying through the hallways for neighbors to join in – rest, peace, restoring life’s vitality from this day forward.

What the fuck just happened? What did I witness? I was someone else, not in my own body or present reality. Did I make this all up?

A week later receiving a call, “Thank you for clearing my mother’s energy field within her room and also the whole fucking building. The staff concurs; whatever happened that night, residential peace was restored.”

Did I make this up? Can this happen? Is this part of my gifts too?

Matters not what a person thinks, feeling trumping all thoughts and changing realities with a single breath, instantaneously, long-lasting evidence awaiting scientific analysis. To witness the unseen brought forth to physical form, ancient forms of molding clay in the hands of fate, maybe, maybe not, again it matters not.

An invitation arrives on a sacred scroll, calling inner demons to come forth, shadow-work on a collaborative platform of hallowed form, tired and tattered souls arriving by the thousands, circling, taking hands, calling to the ancestors, healers from beyond, and together walking each other home. Maestro begins sacred songs, continuing through the darkest part of their souls, unraveling, unwinding, dismembering thought reality.

Shape-shifting henceforth, animals, healers of old, warriors present and far, mythical creatures, Banjhakri observing such persistence. Nodding from the stars, approval from the stone people, gathered memories of ancient waters blessed calls, healing in grand proportions beginning and ending in that single breath.

This, the above story is who we are, declaring I Am Here.

~Ani Po

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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

Sorting the Pieces: Sifting through the Rubble

Sorting the Pieces
sifting through the rubble

From the time you flung me to the trash, smashing my head into protruding bolt, ripping flesh unscathed once before, life’s misery pouring out into the river of mysteries. No remorse from the others left to the hounds frothing at the lips, waiting to sink another bite into sinews and undisturbed thoughts present and far.

Smallest of small, yet painfully growing if left untended, we seek council from not of this place, going into the great unknown, seeking answers to minuscule of life uncertainties. Growing with every season, grandeur e, brush-like wildfire disregarded, flesh opening bloodletting of past and present alike.

Thousand piece puzzle presents again, scattered across the floor, not sure whether to piece together or abstract answering to calling of the wild. We sit time-telling-tales of sweetest symphonies intermittently, yet shadow song returning louder and louder, unchecked, doorstop left up, free-flowing, swinging doorway into sacred portals of pure potentiality.

Fast forward, ripening vines yielding fruit, for not given a breath of fresh air, inflamed bronchus triggering memory, time for healing is what voices ring clear. Ripped open, raw, exposing floating ribs, sliced with such precision, undetected further inquiry may be necessary.

More of the letting, blood transfusions, trans mutated species, with every breath transformed. Call to the winds, encircling hawks, dragon breathing fire, atop the mountain way, joining in flight for all to bear witness.

Call upon thy transgressors, fleeing thoughts uncertain and timely death, whispering songs of the ancients, dragon’s breath deep from earth’s quintessence. Circling above, higher, and higher, Peace Eagle showing the way, tending to wounds of old and present deer, becoming greater than all universes combined, breathing new life into every crevice of decaying thews is ripping at the seams.

Breathing in stories of old, passing through gratitude foretold, acknowledging the sacredness of foreskin, peeling back layers blanketed forests unfinished storylines, dipping life into the sacred waters of ancestral beings and galactic federations akin. Hopefully, the dust settling into the basement, sweeping, purifying quality of lungs original breath transformed.

Yes, it is time, Dagara tribal spirit passing through, first breath, last call at pub’s hallowed dwelling place, accepting, heeding the call, curing the sick, tired of squirrel cage left open. Sorting the pieces, sifting through the rubble, healing self, and collectively forever dragon taking flight, tickled amygdala.

~ Ani Po

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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

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash