#dancingwiththeflies

Cradled in the Dark 

I am in the midst of a mystical transcendence, filled with the dark and the light. I am charged with flashes of insights. It feels like consecutive shot guns of raw ancient bitter bush medicine. Frightfully nasty, disgusting but good for you. (Picture the look on my face.) 

This is the darkness, the trenches of it, the potent deep dark dirt shit that has eyes with dripping fangs, steel sharp claws and the incredible strength of the Hulk that rips your heart apart.  Those who have made some pact with the dark go on to try to describe and express it through fictional writings, blogs, books, memoirs, biographies, movies, documentaries and more. Others get swallowed, chewed up and fucked by it, never returning to sanity. But in the end no outsider really gets it, from the vantage point of looking from the outside, until their own passage arrives. And we can sit on the fence scared to jump, but eventually we each must plunge in and be devoured. We can not avoid it, as it is what comes with being human. It is the other half, the partner within the sacrament of LIVING.  It is what makes life one big indoctrination of ALL THAT IS!

With fear-winged thoughts flying out of my dark abyss, I sat in wet, moist, dark discomfort of my own darkness (last night) more consciously than ever with the background of the sea playing the harmonics of its soothing, but passionate dark waves.  I have sat in the darkness alone before. Quite a few times, often kicking, fighting and screaming. But this round, I responded and reacted differently. I held back my punches and refrained from kicking and then running.  With no entry nor exit, I just sat there and received it. Respect to the Dark! The Funk was with me! And it was a much needed soul operation that seem to pull it out of me.

It’s the day after, and I can’t find the needs nor reflex to re-act (re-enact the past) any more. It yanked that out of me. I am in the midst of a growing listening, an expanded waiting, long extended breathing, an orgasmic silence, even, and a crystallizing awareness of incessant thoughts buzzing around my third eye - like flies dancing and teasing each other. Today, even the flies are messengers bringing guidance and fresh ethereal understanding of what’s really going on underneath.

This Pluton Effect objectifies the soul’s mission and its aim is to overthrow and destroy the former regime that ruled my life. When we welcome it, it changes its form. When we resist it, it takes on another form.

The father of bereavement is active in my life choices- consciously, subconsciously and unconsciously whether I like it or not. It is necessary to dig up all the dirt, crap, garbage and shit; the funk, skunk and dunk zombie humans cover up, avoid, run from, deny, hold on to and literally die from. An old world order.

Life ain’t fully lived, nor truthfully described nor can be spoken for until we each (I and you) face the perpetually generated darkness and demons - names we call them. Its not about a war against anything, its about learning to dance with what you created. That’s all it ever wanted and that’s what we are instinctively, intuitively looking for. Our lost, dark, other half - stolen away from us and converted as our enemy- for far too long!

I’m cradled in the darkness of my mourning and grieving of the past and the old, with my spirit animal guides animating the details of my story along the way.