You Silenced My Demons

The moment I thought I looked into your eyes,

EVERYTHING was SILENCED.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

The pain was forgotten. The smiles were lost and Time stood still.

You Silenced my Demons without ever having met me.

Now that is divine love.

I remember those days and nights I prayed.

I prayed that you find me in this world of seven billion people.

But there was no sign of you.

Not for so many years that I gave up.

I gave up looking for you.

But something persisted.

I knew I needed you because the demons inside were tormenting me daily.

The demons knew of nothing but inflicting pain.

They wanted silence as much as I did.

As much as I do.

But no one and nothing could SILENCE them.

My demons were waiting for you as eagerly as me.

For it is the love in your eyes.

That silenced them.

Even though I know not you or that love.

You are a mystery to me.

Lost in the translation of centuries of separation.

For a brief moment I search you in the skies above.

The sky full of stars tell me that you are waiting as anxiously as me.

The Moon shapeshifts.

I see you smiling.

That smile absolutely melts me.

Your stare evokes such deep feelings of sexual desire and longing,

So deep within my being,

That it leaves me breathless.

Everything is silenced in sweet surrender.

We never met, but I saw it in your eyes.

No I see it in your eyes, even now.

The love you feel, your deep desire for me.

Your desire which is as deep as the waters of the seas.

I wait for the day we will meet.

For that look in your eyes which silenced my demons.

I gave you my truth in so many words.

But you spoke nothing.

You remained silent because the look in your eyes said everything.

I know how much you pray to hold me.

Even though you do not know me.

Even though you have never met me.

But you have felt me deeper and stronger than anybody.

Your desire burns loud and stark.

I do not want to lead you on,

But there is not much left for us here.

There are pangs of sadness and grief.

At our separation.

The demons though have never spoken again.

Since I stared at you in the eyes.

Through the simulation of space and time.

The demons wait too.

They wait eagerly for your arrival.

For one day you will really be in front of me.

And I will wait to hear your speak.

What will you sound like?

What will you speak of?

Our path is difficult, it is raw, it is painful.

I know you will not run away with this pain.

Even if we have never met, you know it is your job to silence my demons.

 

Pisces season is almost here and we are all about to soak into some dreamy love vibes. Pisces is my 7th house of relationships and my Moon is here on the 11th degree, so here is an offering for you. I have been looking for you forever my Beloved…come to me now…

 

Book your session~~

Donate~~

tina@tinaheals.com

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Themes of Domination and submission~~

BDSM is not about SEX. In its higher vibrations, it has to do with SPIRITUALITY and SOUL EVOLUTION. Do you think this to be blasphemous? Follow my chain of thought and explore more.

Do you know that fear is a potent aphrodisiac?

This is a post that has been pending in the pipeline for quite a while and there is no better time to do this than right now. There is this MOON QUINCUNX MARS aspect that is happening in the skies today and with this particular energy, there is a repressed vibe of S&M if you ask me. It could also lead to AUTOSADISM, a term coined to reflect the pain and humiliation inflicted on oneself.

Yes there are all kinds of people and all different kinds of things rock their respective boats. But why the necessity to speak about BDSM, the generally accepted term for “sexual sadism within the context of mutual consent”…

I have explored the aspect of domination and submission both, although I am a natural Dominant. And women DOMINANTS do not usually speak out, unless they are pro-dommes, but, I think it is now time to openly discuss FLR or FEMALE LED RELATIONSHIPS and FEMDOM, which means FEMALE DOMINATION.

BDSM is a collaborative, spiritual and creative exchange between the TOP and the bottom. It is sublime!

And, and, and, there is not much resource for women who want to explore DOMINATION…But now, things are going to change…

Yet, I do agree, there is a sweet sense of surrender when you expose your vulnerable self to someone to do whatever they want with. It is a dangerous proposition, but if a SACRED SPACE can be created for the couple’s mutual adventurous sides to come out and play, then there is a possibility of great catharsis during a BDSM encounter.

I will stand by my thesis that BDSM, which is consensual, may actually lead to ALTERED STATES OF CONSCIOUSNESS. It can be as potent as Acid or MDMA.

One study, published in May 2013, actually found that practitioners of BDSM were better off than the general population in some ways, including having secure relationships and lower anxiety. You know why? Because the relationship between a DOMINANT and a sub is open and honest, even if the sub has contacted her for a pro session.

The two words incorporated into this compound, “sadism” and “masochism”, were originally derived from the names of two authors. The term “Sadism” has its origin in the name of the Marquis de Sade (1740–1814), who not only practiced sexual sadism, but also wrote novels about these practices, of which the best known is Justine. “Masochism” is named after Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, who wrote novels expressing his masochistic fantasies. ~~WIKI

PAIN and PLEASURE are two binaries and often times this infliction of pain is brought about by the emotional needs of the masochist. The Dominant likes to play along and mentor, because through the possibility of the threat of violence, the submissive can and may succeed in expressing psychological purging. And the DOMINANT feels the intensity too. It is a dance of ADRENALINE for the TOP.

The pain that comes with sadomasochistic sex may cause the brain to shunt blood flow away from this region, causing a subjectively altered state of consciousness — and the appeal of SM, Ambler said. “Part of the reason these SM activities may be so extreme, at some level, is that they’re particularly effective at causing the brain to change its distribution of blood flow,” he said. ~~huffingtonpost

In fact after a session of SHIBARI, you will begin to feel light, stress free and in control. There is something about lying suspended, all tied up. SHIBARI is a very powerful spiritual tool and there is so much to be had if you land up as a SHIBARI CANVAS in the hands of a true artist!

In Japanese, “Shibari” simply means “to tie”. The contemporary meaning of Shibari describes an ancient Japanese artistic form of rope bondage. In the late 1800′s and early 1900′s a new form of erotic Hojo-justu evolved, called Kinbaku, the art of erotic bondage. Today, particularly in the west, the art of erotic bondage is typically called Shibari, which is an art of erotic spirituality, not a martial art. ~~artofcontemporaryshibari

VANILLA SEX does not appeal to a huge segment of society and I can stand testimony to that. There are numerous men and women who have explored or will explore BDSM in some form or the other if the chance comes along.

VIOLENCE and the thought of it also creates a sort of attachment, not the Stockholm Syndrome types, but a more psychological dependence on the DOMINANT for knowing when to take the whip out and when to make the sub lick her shoes. All these acts are at the core psychological cues asking the submissive to surrender.

The sub wants nothing more than being able to surrender, because at the sound of the crack of the whip, all his troubles vanish away. The DOMINANT is as heavily attached to the play as the sub if not more so. Because a DOMINANT knows no surrender and is always in control which can be quite demanding. Because sometimes we all like to go with the flow.

There are subtle emotional cues the DOMINANT must always look for, because it is the DOMINANT here who is the MEDICINE or the WITCH DOCTOR. I have worked with many women who have wanted to explore their dominant side. I have worked with many men who have felt so ashamed at their submissive side that they have come to me broken, sexually and psychologically. It takes time to build such people from ground zero, so it is my suggestion that we understand and explore it. If we have a partner who is into BDSM play, then we should be open enough to explore any extremity that might be needed.

I am not saying that if you are a submissive, then you have to become a dominant just to please your man. All I am saying is, that men love it when women TAKE CONTROL in bed. You can guide him, ride him, delay him or gratify him. It is in your hands.

And no, if a person is a dominant, then it does not mean they are a sexual deviant or a sexual predator or even sexually aggressive. Remember a rape is not S&M, because RAPE is never about sexual gratification. RAPE IS ABOUT POWER. P-O-W-E-R!!!

A Dominant is in fact like your MENTOR, if you are a sub and the responsibility of a mentor is quite heavy if you ask me. Much heavier than just letting things happen to you. Some Dominant use a safe word, some don’t. But at the end of the day, BDSM is never about physical harm. Keeping sub/slave tendencies repressed will only create havoc with your life and finances. So why not explore this path with your partner or find a mentor.

There is nothing wrong if a man wants to be submissive in bed. In fact, some of the most POWERFUL MEN in history have been subs in bed. They are so sick and tired of making all the decisions, that now they want to surrender their whole being to the Dominant.

Many people have asked me to discuss BDSM’S ASTROLOGY. What makes a DOMINANT? What makes a submissive? And it is time to understand that practitioners of BDSM are not sociopaths or psychopaths and are not clinically unwell.

Even though FREUD seemed to suggest otherwise.

In 1905, Sigmund Freud described sadism and masochism in his Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie (“Three papers on Sexual Theory”) as stemming from aberrant psychological development from early childhood.~~WIKI

BDSM activists have been toiling tirelessly to remove this misconception.

Have you seen the film Quills? Starring Geoffrey Rush, Kate Winslet, and Michael Caine? That depicts the life of the man whose name coined the word SADISM.

How delightful are the pleasures of the imagination! In those delectable moments, the whole world is ours; not a single creature resists us, we devastate the world, we repopulate it with new objects which, in turn, we immolate. The means to every crime is ours, and we employ them all, we multiply the horror a hundredfold. —Marquis de Sade, Les prospérités du vice

In a patriarchal world, we are used to men taking the leadership role and we see women generally as subservient to the men around. The idea of women being sadists were not accepted by FREUD and his colleagues. Men were the DOMINANT, they thought. And how wrong are they? Femdom is a slap in the face of FRUED.

Both Krafft-Ebing and Freud assumed that sadism in men resulted from the distortion of the aggressive component of the male sexual instinct. Masochism in men, however, was seen as a more significant aberration, contrary to the nature of male sexuality. Freud doubted that masochism in men was ever a primary tendency, and speculated that it may exist only as a transformation of sadism. Sadomasochism in women received comparatively little discussion, as it was believed that it occurred primarily in men. Both also assumed that masochism was so inherent to female sexuality that it would be difficult to distinguish as a separate inclination. ~~WIKI

Since SADO-MASOCHISM is such a difficult topic to tackle, let me explain some astrological aspects that might illuminate it further.

Look for challenging aspects between PLUTO and MARS. The NN does also play into it. In fact the FIXED SIGNS, the CROSS of LEO, TAURUS, AQUARIUS and SCORPIO are into hegemony and powerplay in some sorts during sex.

SATURN in the fifth may cause one to be a cold sadist and PLUTO in there might mean that dirty politics is operative in the dynamics. If there is a CONJUNCTION of these planets, then there could be a very strong DOMINANT there.

AQUARIUS ASCENDANT and MOONS are heavily into BDSM, they are mostly switches as they like to experience the full spectrum. A URANUS strong chart would also indicate sexual experimentation.

SATURN placements would mean a father figure fixation. It might make you attracted to older men. I have my SATURN in LEO in the 12th and older men with wisdom definitely interest me. It is the SATURNIAN WISDOM that turns me on. SATURN could also be a CRONE and you might find yourself pulled to older, wiser women who will dominate you.

MOON OPPOSITE PLUTO could also point to sexual power dynamics, like CHARLES MANSON, the cult leader. This can make you FANATICAL and INTOLERANT, energies a DOMINANT can use well in bed.

MARS in ARIES, 8th house brings the DOMINA into full functionality and then the cherry on top is an OPPOSITION to the NN and PLUTO which are conjunct. Yay baby!

What makes the DOMINANT tick? What excites me about a man who can surrender to me? Yes, sometimes I like being cruel to my lover, but why?

I feel powerful? I am in charge? My way or the high way? All of this actually. Because even though a woman is the receptive energy, she is also the CREATRIX, the SHAKTI that creates everything.

Look for Lilith placements in your chart. I have some hardcore Lilith and Mars conversations happening in my natal chart.

Think of ERIS…Eris is the goddess of discord and rivalry.

Greek myth tells that, upon exclusion from a wedding, Eris threw into the midst of its revellers an apple marked ‘for the fairest’. An argument ensued between the goddesses Athena, Hera and Aphrodite as to its intended recipient, the settling of which eventually led to the Trojan War

Pitting the goddesses Athena, Hera and Aphrodite against each other in competition for the title of ‘fairest’, she exposed the diminished feminine, divorced from its sovereignty and subordinated to the power of the masculine gaze. Now she returns power to us all, inviting us to embrace the light and dark feminine and all shades in-between: the Venusian delights of sensuality, the cyclical intuition of our lunar nature and the viscerality of Eridian challenge of all that perpetuates patriarchal mores of gendered worth. ~~foreverunlimited

Women are not objects created for the male gaze.

Femdom kinda reverses that fulcrum. BE LIKE ERIS. Who cares who is fairer? Who cares about what men think and how we need to alter ourselves to fit into the norm of what is attractive. Life is not just a heteronormative exposition.

TANTRICS are all subs and slaves to the women. Because in tantra, it is only a woman who is superior to men as she is a direct symbol of the Goddess.

The sub suffers and a Dominant enjoys that SUFFERING.

Understand one thing, that both the DOMME and the sub are exploring their UNCONSCIOUS MIND as they embark on the play. The SADIST may draw inspiration from their UNCONSCIOUS to punish the sub. It could be jealousy, possessiveness or sexual marking. It could even piss the DOMINANT off if the sub sexually turns her on. After all, he does what she says.

The sub is an object. SUBHUMAN and a Dominant need not handle any bullshit from him. It is her choice to do as she pleases. Sex loses its meaning in the traditional way, but here a new sexual narrative takes shape. A new foray into sexual mores and desires. The world is ready for it.

The DOMINANT wants trophies, not lovers. In most cases, DOMINANTS feel scared to posit deep meaning in their sexual acts. But meaning already always exists, doesn’t it. The play time develops a new relationship dynamics. This scapegoating more times than not, alleviates the trauma of women who have undergone sexual abuse. In fact, it is a deep healing process to take back that control in your sexual life. But again, it must be BALANCED, not just rampant physical harm.

The submissives usually have hard NEPTUNE aspects with their MOONS and ASCENDANTS. MARS and NEPTUNE can create a nebulous haze around needs and desires. I have seen subs lost in rape fantasies because of Neptune and MARS, sometimes Pluto. Pisces as 8th house too.

“I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding.”
― Anaïs Nin

I will discuss Anaïs Nin’s astrology in more detail when I do the submissive women part. This is what a lot of women want, but some women want the male to be submissive and it is quite common. Women are exceptionally good Dominants, like Geisha’s so many of them helping their clients explore in the sanctity of the sacred space they create.

ALGOL is another FIXED STAR to look at as it focuses on PLUTONIC ALL-CONSUMING OBSESSION. Anger and rage can devour you, although the DOMINANT is never really angry. It is like an actor playing a role.

In astrology, ERIS and LILITH are both Dominas. In tantric myths, it is KALI, the one true feminist who never thought twice of standing on the chest of her man to make a point.

I am not some feminazi spouting hatred and causing more divisions and fractures in the collective psyche. I am just asking you to be like KALI. Take charge of your life, take charge of your pleasure and show your man what to do and what you like. Make him submit and he will love you for it. I know my lovers have loved it when I have taken charge. Try it and it is different every time.

There is much more coming up in themes of Domination and submission, many more nuances to discuss to bring to light the holistic aspect of this BDSM playtime. I have seen the efficacy and now I am here to unveil the potential of truly dominating a man or truly submitting and surrendering to him. What do you like? What does he like? Understand your sexual needs and desires.

JUPITER in SCORPIO is blessing ya…

Email me if you want to learn to awaken your DOMINANT side~~

I do workshops with women from all over the world.

I do lecture about the subject,, so email me if you want me to speak on it.

tina@tinaheals.com

IMAGE COPYRIGHT ~~Australian mixed media artist Garth Knight reveals overtly what we already know: bondage is beautiful. His project, The Enchanted Forest, elevates rope bondage to a new level —CHECK HIS WORK OUT~~

Kamakhya Tantra discussion~

The story goes like this…steeped in mysticism and folklore…and you know why it is so important???

Because India, the country from which the myth originates is repulsed by women bleeding or MENSTRUATION! Therefore it is time to bring the narrative of the pussy and the power of the SACRED blood back into collective consciousness.

I am a woman who is truly appreciative of the womb energy.

Understanding the operations of my SACRAL CHAKRA opened up my creativity in ways I cannot express. I found balance as I embraced my Pussy. The literal and also the metaphoric. My pussy links me to the Goddess sitting atop the blue hills in Assam. Her yoni and mine are connected. It flows with feminine intuitive juices that can nurture and create.

Kamakhya resonates and glistens with the halo of untold spiritual energies. A YONI or VAGINA is worshiped here, see I was not kidding. There is no image of the GODDESS, none at all. The YONI is all.

This story dates back to antiquity and lies shrouded in the mists of the PRE-VEDIC ERA.

Back to vagina worship…has a nice ring to it…

Shocked that people can do such a thing? In fact, vagina worship is known to be found in cross-cultural societies. Take Japan for instance. Find a small cave in Yeddo and inside is a HUGE YONI propitiated by many. And even BRAHMA was told to begin creation of the MANVANTARA after meditating on the YONI!

Heavy PUSSY POWER there! KAMAKHYA was the ULTIMATE SYMBOL of FERTILITY. The maiden is now ready to become a mother with the seed given to her by the penis or the male energy. The sperm is considered sacred in tantra, but more so…the blood of a menstruating woman.

Shiva told Parvati that any human being who has this text book in their home will never want for anything. What does this mean? Shiva is the male/active principle who impregnates the feminine, Parvati. She who is the female embodiment symbol and they join in MAITHUNA to manifest the world. So with the CORRECT KNOWLEDGE of this tantra, one can gain enlightenment. With enlightenment comes peace, bliss and tranquility. There is no lack or want in samadhi. No desire when the male/female polarities are balanced.

Therefore with the use of KAMAKHYA TANTRA, it is possible to gain liberation and break out of the samsaric wheel. In the KALIKA PURANA, it is clearly stated that the GREAT COSMIC YONI is placed on the NILGIRI HILLS in Assam, India. That place vibrates with the sacred feminine energy of the YONI. The Yoni or Pussy is the greatest creative force, the womb is the ultimate MOTHER of all.

Kamakhya (Assamese: কামাখ্যা দেৱী), also known as Siddha Kubjika,is an important Hindu Tantric goddess of desire who evolved in the Himalayan hills. She is worshiped as Siddha Kubjika, and is also identified as Kali and Maha Tripura Sundari. Her name means “renowned goddess of desire,” and she resides at the presently rebuilt Kamakhya Temple in 1645 C. The temple is primary among the 51 Shakti Peethas related to the sect that follows Sati, and remains one of the most important Shakta temples and Hindu pilgrimage sites in the world.~~WIKI

The tantric texts refer to her as MAHAMAYA or the GREAT GODDESS OF ILLUSION and in KALIKA PURANA, she is said to be the most important Devi to be worshiped to gain moksha. SHODOSHI, one of the emanations of the GREAT MOTHER is said to be her and she is very close to DURGA.

KAMAKHYA is visualized as a young girl of about 16 years old, with twelve arms and six heads of varying colors. The number of limbs and hands signify that she is OMNIPOTENT, OMNISCIENT and OMNIPOTENT. She is dressed as a young bride, wearing a red saree with ornate jewelry. The hibiscus is her favourite flower, like Kali.

She holds a lotus, trident, sword, bell, discus, bow, arrows, club or scepter, goad, and shield in each of ten hands. The two remaining hands hold a bowl. It can be of gold, but more often it is a KAPAAL or a skull. She emanates from a LOTUS which has emerged from SHIVA’S navel, who in turn lies atop a lion.

Brahma and Vishnu, each seated upon a lotus are found flanked on her two sides.

The mention of KAMAKHYA temple can be found in a number of texts. BRIHADARANYA PURANA, KALIKA PURANA, TANTRACHURAMANI, YOGINI TANTRA, DEVIBHAGAVATAM and DEVI PURANA to name a few.

To understand the mythology of KAMAKHYA you have to understand the SATI EPISODE.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sati_(Hindu_goddess)

Explore the myth of SATI on Wiki to get a context of what happens next.

Cut back to my story…

SHIVA was dancing the tandav with SATI on his shoulders and the world was coming to an end. It was the very apocalypse we fear. Then VISHNU had to use the SUDARSHAN CHAKRA to sever the body of SATI. Her body parts scattered all over the world and in KAMAKHYA, her YONI or VAGINA landed.

As her vagina touched the earth, it metamorphosed to a stone. The same stone we know lies in the temple today. The public is not allowed to see the real stone.

Although the temple of KAMAKHYA has its origins before the Vedic civilization. There were people of KIRATA origin, PRE-VEDIC who offered worship to a GODDESS on this spot by sacrificing pigs! Yikes!

These people were MATRILINEAL and worshiped the FEMININE.

BTW, according to legend, no one can ever touch the Yoni of the Goddess. If you do so, you can get infected and become a STONE MAN, GOT style. The myths speak of metals like iron smelting in contact to the Yoni!

SHIVA, the masculine principle settled his essence in the stone that was once SATI’S Yoni and that is how creation found balance again. This story speaks of so much. It tells us how the feminine must be as grounded as a rock to bear creation. The male can only then settle in her and thrust his sperm. If the WOMB is not ready to receive, then there is no creation. That is why SILENCE and STILLNESS are huge parts of the feminine expression.

It is also said that there is water or some type of liquid all the way down to PATALA or the Netherworld. The vagina is connected to all the worlds, because it is out of her that reality arose.

KAMAKHYA is the GODDESS principle and she manifests as PRAKRITI or nature and natural laws. The stone that is the representation of the yoni has a natural spring that flows through it. This water is sacred and during AMBUBACHI, which is the time of MENSTRUATION of the Goddess, this water turns red. No one knows why. This sacred blood is collected in tiny red cotton cloths and given to people as PRASAD.

During her menstruation, the temple remains closed for maybe three days and the AMBUBACHI MELA takes place in full swing. No one sees the Yoni of course, it is like 20 feet below ground level and sits inside a cave. In the temple, there is a stone that is a symbol of the Yoni below.

I have been to the temple during the AMBUBACHI. But that was ages ago. In fact I have a plan to live for the whole duration of this festival to shoot and interview people for my upcoming videos on Tantra. That is something I am dying to do.

Very many powerful sadhakas, tantrics, bhairavis, yogis, yoginis and many other interesting people appear here during the Ambubachi mela and that time is awesome for content creation. And during breaks, practice tantra. How sublime would that be? Maybe you’d want to join in for this adventure? Let me know.

If you want to study about KAMAKHYA and learn her arts, then drop me an email.

 

DONATE TO MY WORK~~

BOOK YOUR SESSION WITH ME~~

BOOK YOUR KAMAKHYA WORSHIP KIT~~

BE INITIATED INTO HER MANTRAS~~

tina@tinaheals.com

An abject Poet’s Love Song

This is from a series of more than a hundred love poems and songs I have composed. It is dedicated to SOMEONE IN SOME MULTIVERSE. So if you are reading…you know what to do…

 

Can you step out of the image I hold of you in my heart?

Stand and face me.

Separate from me.

If you do not, how will I know you exist?

How will I know I exist?

How will I know that your existence is separate from me.

Not a myth of my mind.

If you remain frozen as an image,

How will I hold you in flesh and bones?

How will I feel the taste of your lips?

 

Can you step put of the sonnet I compose in vain?

Show me you exist without my words.

You do not just appear in my words, as a figment of my imagination, do you?

If you remain hidden in the words I write,

Then how will I know this love, this insanity is real?

How will I be sure that my heart writes not in vain?

How will I know that my words do not define you?

And you breathe and sleep, just like any mortal.

If you remain as ideas,

How will I ever concretise your actuality?

 

Can you separate from the tune that plays in my soul?

Without you, the whole tune falls apart.

For you are that one note that glues my composition together.

Without you the tune will make no sense,

But I will know of your existence.

I will know you are the rhythm of the soil my heart,

The frequency that transcends space and time.

Your separation will convince me how important you are in this equation of spiritual truths.

Your disconnection will kill the music of the spheres of my soul.

The harmonic resonance destroyed.

 

But in all calamity,

I will know you exist.

There will be no colour in my canvas.

No words in my vocabulary to pen my love for you,

And no tunes to pulsate the depths of my being.

But I will know that in separation you exist.

 

Do not listen to the ravings of a lunatic poet,

Listen not to the words I sing,

Ignore the pain in my words.

For what do you care about an abject poet’s love song?

 

 

 

 

The story of Hensman Anthony Firingi and Soudamini~~

Anthony Firingi
At a kavigaan

There are love stories and then there are LOVE STORIES. You have heard of Romeo and Juliet right? Two young lovers, star-crossed, die because of unwarranted hate between their families.

But today, I will tell you about a love story that is way more spiritual and revolutionary than Romeo and Juliet. In fact, it is one that has touched such a raw nerve in my heart that I strongly believe I have experienced this first-hand in some way.

The love story that I describe is not of two adolescents, but of two extremely spiritually developed people. They were twinflames here to raise the frequency of the people. But again, their love was destroyed by pure xenophobia, bigotry, racism and hate. This is a love story seldom told and it is now time for people from all over to see the beauty of this union where even the devastating tragedy that followed could not dim or lesson the love involved in any way.

He was born in Portugal in 1786 and came to Bengal with his father who was a merchant. Now before I delve into the story of this young Portuguese musician(he must have been into music because you do not start composing such tunes and sonnets if you were not into it  in some way), let me expose the story of my beloved country circa 1800.

India was the most coveted country that the European powers craved to dominate. The Spanish, the English, the French, the Dutch, the Danes and the Portuguese were all vying for power in respective states. We know how the English managed to drive every one away and pillage, plunder and rape India for over 200 years. That is another story…

Let me set the scene for you. Hensman Anthony, a young lad, came with his father, a Portuguese merchant to trade in the port city of Chandannagar which was called Farashdanga. The Portuguese were on their last legs as they were getting hardcore competition from the Dutch and the French. Eventually the Dutch lost the plot to the French by 1825. The French managed to hold onto India till about the very end, but the British were definitely the undisputed rulers of the subcontinent.

So this young Portuguese lad is anyway on hostile territory where his people and country are on their last legs. He is no powerful English Officer, he is just the son of some Portuguese trader. There is competition and aggression from the other Europeans and from such a turbulent historical period came one of the greatest Shakta tantrics who wrote and sang some of the most moving hymns to the Goddess Kali/Durga.

How is this possible? How did a Portuguese lad learn Bengali? Not in the rudimentary level, but good enough to compose complex and intense poems which he performed in kavigans. Kavigans were literally poetry face off. Two poets would go head-to-head and spout their philosophy and tunes. The crowd would decide who was the more woke guy and they felicitated him.

This tradition of bard-face-offs have been discovered in most societies. It is not a product of Comedy Central. lol. Firstly, Anthony’s father was just a merchant, well to do, maybe…but then again, just a merchant and he must have wanted the young man to follow in his footsteps, not become some freaky bard who sang in Bengali. Like seriously???

But Anthony was more interested to escape into the heart of pastoral Bengal where he would play his lute and listen to the local poets sing passionately to invoke the Goddess.

Something snaps in his brain as he pulls a chillum. He hears the lingering words of the poet Ramprasad’s Shyamasangeet and it tugged at his heart in ways he could not understand. He would spend much of his time with the poets and other yogis he discovered on his travels. He begins to meditate and do sadhana.

Anthony also begins to learn Bengali, a language he falls in love with. Now let me mention here, that Anthony’s Bengali had to be really as good as any literate Bengali poet’s, otherwise he would never be allowed or able to compete, let alone win a kavigan.

Here was a man who learnt a foreign language to the expertise of the local intellectuals. Not only that, he began to compete with them, finally wining his bout most of the times, even with the most famous poet Bholamoira.

Bengali’s are extremely picky about their language and they are never happy with a foreigner being better at it than most of them. Kinda like the French. No one can speak French better than a Frenchman. But when the kundalini awakens, all knowledge becomes available.

Anthony had lived countless lifetimes in the heart of pastoral Bengal and he knew everything about it. The Bengali Brahmins ridiculed him for dressing like them, made fun of his devotion to Kali, teased him about Jesus Christ and the Church, to which he responded by saying, There is no difference in Christ and Kali my brothers…

Hello! Wtf do you say to a man like that? How does a European get here? This is not easy let me remind you. I for one know a woman from London who has lived in Bombay for over thirty years and she can barely say five words of Hindi.

And this is not like learning the language in a University and taking exams, then returning to your country and publishing books from there. Ah what a great Orientalist! Nope. This is no internet certification that now you are a certified Bengali poet.

This was raw, this was life, this was reality. He not only stayed and worked in Bengal, but he excelled at what he did in a foreign country he chose to call home. He lived in Bengal, amidst the Bengali’s and composed some of the most touching Shakta poetry they had ever heard!

And Bengali Brahmins were a closed, snobbish, gated society who considered Europeans mlecchas or untouchables. They would not even let Anthony drink water in their houses. My peeps, this is the situation in which this young man not only awakened his kundalini, but also gave us one of the greatest spiritual love stories to treasure.

I learnt of Firingi Kalibari when I was a child. My grandmother told me and I remember how enchanted I was to listen about a Portuguese man compose these sonnets and poems in Bnegali to the Goddess Kali. It always moved me to tears.

It was much later that I discovered the true greatness of this man. Now back to a history lesson and it is pretty macabre.

In Bengal, we practised some deadly misogynistic rituals….let Wikipedia dose you up.

Sati or suttee is an obsolete funeral custom where a widow immolates herself on her husband’s pyre or commits suicide in another fashion shortly after her husband’s death..~WIKI

My peeps, in less than 1 percent cases, did the woman actually want to commit suicide, but she was forced. By societal constructs, by tradition, by women like her mothers and sisters, enablers of patriarchy themselves. It was coercion. Nothing else.

Sati was ultimately abolished because of Brahmin reformers like RAJA RAMMOHAN ROY, bless his soul as it is his birthday today. Do you see how society has been burning women in different cultures, under different pretences since time immemorial!

Why did Sati even exist you ask? Because these Brahmin women could not find husbands. They were only allowed to marry a Kulin Brahmin of Bengali origin. So me love, because of my surname Mukerji, 300 years ago, I might have been burnt on my dead husband’s pyre. Yes, I am born in a Brahmin family and this is what they have been doing to my mothers, sisters, aunts and grandmothers.

Most of these women were forced to marry a single Brahmin patriarch, because there were no Brahmin men available. Bengali Brahmin aristocratic women were not allowed to even gaze upon a Brahmin, say from UP or Bihar. Forget a European.

My grandmother tells me how some English officers would come to meet her father. The women were never allowed to even glance at a European man. They lived in a different segment of the house anyway called ANDARMAHAL. She told me that there was an Englishman called Robert who really liked her. I think he sent her a letter through her maidservant and of course, all hell broke loose.

Not that my grandmother would have even reciprocated. You see, for them European men were strange creatures whom they did not consider as mates. It was literally that simple.

I am harping on the time-frame so you get a good understanding of how dangerous it was for Anthony to fall in love with a Bengali widow during such turbulent times. This is way more dangerous than the Romeo Juliet saga.

Anthony saves Soudamini from self immolation and takes her to his place. Now after laying the groundwork, I do not need to stress how dangerous an action this is.

Most of the intellectuals are pissed as he is doing so well in his kavigan face-offs. How dare an upstart European sing hymns to the Goddess? How can he have any knowledge of the Goddess? He is a Christians. And then he goes and rescues a Brahmin Bengali woman.

There have been cases of rape and molestation when European men and Indian women have been concerned. But I think this was the first time, in recorded history, a Brahmin woman consensually began to live with a European man openly, not giving a fuck as to what the villagers have to say.

They were twinflames who dedicated their life to awakening the kundalini, practiced tanta and even worked on developing the kali temple together. Their sadhana deeped and gathered a small following. This was no interracial love story of today where any person can get married to anyone as long as it is legal and sanctified by a court.

But here, there was no court, no law to allow a Brahmin widow to remain at the side of her European lover/partner. Their lives were plagued by attacks from the conservatives.

In the kabiyan competitions, Anthony’s rival poets often brought up Soudamini’s name to taunt and ridicule him. It upset him tremendously, but he learnt to take in in his stride.

This was 1830’s or so, it is now 2017 and not much has changed. Even today, in India, you can get attacked if you are in love with a man from a different faith or caste or whatever. I shared a video recently of a Hindu girl attacked by a woman politician for falling in love with a Muslim. So as you see my love, nothing has really changed.

At least they don’t burn us any more openly and call it sati. They would if they could. After all we need to be chaste and if we are truly chaste and not little whores then the fire would not burn us, would it? What Sita had to go through centuries ago, is very much an active wound in our unconscious.

Anthony and Soudamini were blooming in their creative, spiritual love nest they had created. Anthony had composed the AGAMANI SONGS, for which he became noted and this is like synchronicity on steroids because these hymns were written to Goddess Durga as she comes to visit Earth from her heavenly abode.

Guess what my love. That time is now. Goddess Durga or the KUNDALINI has just stirred and she is making her ascent at this time as I type. The Bengali’s celebrate Durga Puja now and it is the most important festival for them.

The Agamani Songs are to be hymned now and I think the spirit of Hensman Anthony is urging me to tell you his story. He wants you too know how much he loved the woman they took from him.

The world is truly cruel.

His wife Saudamini was burnt to death, for being a widow and re-marrying Anthony, who was a foreigner. ~~Wiki

There, that’s what the Brahmin puritanical conservatives did. They burnt her and their ashram while he was away. He may have returned home from one of his biggest wins to see his whole reality and the love of his life burnt to crisp.

Ominous, isn’t it? Soudamini was pregnant.

This is what bigotry does. This is the scope of fanaticism. As we head into the new Era, let us consider this as a cautionary tale. Maybe they took this karma upon themselves to show us what hatred can do. But in this there is a message…

Even after three hundred years, a random blogger/lifecoach finds this story to tell you at this very precise point in time?!? It means that hate did not win. Ultimately it is their love that won. It is their spiritual mission that is still standing as the Firingi Kalibari where millions of Shakta’s go to invoke the kundalini.

Love wins all my Beloved…

Find a man who will love you like Anthony loved Soudamini. Love a man who will go against all establishment to join with you in sacred union. Or else stay single.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Mansfield Story

BELOW IS A PART OF MY NOVEL CALLED THE MANSFIELD STORY.

IT IS ALSO DEVELOPED AS A SCREENPLAY.

HELP ME PUBLISH~ BECOME MY PATRON

 

CHAPTER 1

SHAMBHAVI’S POV

I am not going to pretend that I’m this master story teller, in fact I’m seriously beginning to question my choice of vocation as writer/ filmmaker. No HD has my film on it and the analogue era was before my time. I have made all these films, in my head. From script to post prod, I’ve created these monstrosities and they exist. Don’t know where, don’t know how, but they do. Mistakes are portals of discovery, right Joyce. Works every time, doesn’t it. But then you were seeking to be immortal, hence the elaborate subterfuge, but for me. I am the nothingness, the mistake. These films that I’ve made in my mind, over and over, lead me nowhere in the real world, for they don’t exist. Neither does she, but there she is, invading my senses, my ideas, my dreams.

I think of these bizarre stories and it’s not even that I write them, they write themselves. I’m just their victim. They laugh at me, they torment me, they wake me up at four in the morning in jest, they drive me insane tossing and turning in bed at night. They are my oppressors. Not always. There is a friendly angle to our relationship. It does exist.

To the world, I’m this depressed writer who types away for hours on end on her laptop, writing God knows what. I’m in the fraternity of paid-poorly writers who are paid next to nothing to develop content. That’s my day job, at night I’m batwoman! You wish right?

I write screenplays and then make my films over and over again. And then there are these surfeits I have to deal with, like my friends from these stories, they begin to cohabit with me. These characters, they decide to pop right out of the Final Draft document and strut their stuff in front of me. There’s a reason why I’m constipated. How do you drop the excrement off your body when someone is reciting to you, a fluke line out of Keats, or no Shelley, I think. The Romantics definitely. Or you have this beer bar dancer doing make up! She keeps wanting to know if she’s looking saxy, not sexy, but saxy.

How the fuck is someone to shit in peace? Then there’s this boxer, he’s got tuberculosis and I write about it. Bam! I develop this terrible cough and an unbearable pain in the chest. The next day, I go to clear my throat and the phlegm sitting in the basin has blood. What does the boxer do? He laughs at me.

Then there are these pregnant women. I don’t think I’ll get into that right now, but yes you guessed it right. My periods stopped coming. Who could be the father? There were three possible candidates, but no one I could discuss this with. Not like they were my live-in boyfriends. They were nothing, not even friends. I stared at the pregnancy stick, yes, two lines. It didn’t matter how many times I re-took that test, it was the same. Now I’m no fool, I use protection. So did it not work? Did the bloody condom burst? Am I… I don’t think I could bring myself to voice that word. PREGNANT!!! I was and I did what I had to.

Not only am I plagued by these people, but strangely the things I write come to pass. No don’t think of  it as some kind of gift, it’s a fucking curse actually. It might have been a gift if all I wrote about was unicorns and fairies, but here I sit in silence and type away. What do I see? The desperate situation we’re in, yes us humans. I see the pain, no I think it’s more like I am in pain. I suffer day and night, sometimes with reason, sometimes without. I’m just a sucker for pain and my heart is perpetually broken. These films that I make are extensions of my tragic self and the most persistent theme of them is suicide.

You can say that I have a morbid fascination for suicide. My mother committed suicide when I was four or five, her mother too killed herself and so did her father, so yes it kind of runs in the family. I’ve been subjected to hours and hours of counselling so I don’t jump off a high-rise or hang myself with a dupatta. Morons! As if those sessions helped.

You see to me suicide is an art-form. You’ve got to be an artist to kill yourself with grace. You’ve got to see the beauty in death and embrace it. You’ve got to worship the power you have, the power to decide when it’s over. There is no fucking God, there is just you and the choice is yours.

My mother named me Shambhavi, I have an abbreviated form that I’ve chosen- SHAM! Yes I’m a sham! I’m not artist, if I was then I’d have already created the master piece- my death! The suicide, but I am not an artist, just a writer.

There are these three projects that I’m working on- developing for filmmakers who are too lazy to write their own shit and need to hire morons like me. The boxer does tend to get on my nerves, otherwise I am actually pretty involved with the rest. They tell me what to write and I do. It seems to be working. Of course there are times when these directors feel the need to impose upon my feeble intellectuality and ask me to make corrections. Temper tantrums will be thrown, but somehow we manage. We don’t exist without each other. We need each other.

Then there are these turbulent characters that take birth from my mind. They wreak havoc on my life, depressed, suicidal, maniacal, it’s difficult to deal with them. There is no sense of closure, no sense of comfort with them, only angst is the best way I could describe the feeling.

I have also tried setting MSS on fire, but once they’ve been conceived of in my head, there is no annihilating them. They are a part of my life, actually these creatures are my life whether I like it or not. The only way I can get rid of them is to finally begin work on the masterpiece.

It was so strange, when I met her that night. She stood in front and for the life in me, I couldn’t fathom her identity. There was something so familiar about her. P.S- I don’t subscribe to God or reincarnation. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive as I did when I saw her.

Don’t ask me how I landed up there, but I’ve had such strange and absurd situations happening to me recently that I just let go and watched her. She was tiny and her hairdo reminded me some old flick on Joan of Arc. Dressed in all black, there was this pendant around her neck, a spiral in jade and it looked like a fern would spring right out of it. Waist-upwards she had this sphinx like quality, her short crop was unkempt, her bangs fell on her forehead. She blinked her eyes through thick glasses as she looked at me. It had to be me, right. There was nobody else there, just a cat.

She lumbered across the vast living room. I could see her legs did not carry her well and she was stooping. There was a fire in her eyes which I could see even through those thick glasses. She sat right in front with a cuppa tea. I was not offered any. We sat like that for I don’t know how long. I was looking to say something. “Hello, I’m Sham,” “Hello, I’m a sham.” But I said nothing.

There was something that caught my eyes- an old calendar that screamed 1922.

Okay officially I have lost it, I know it to be 2017, not 1922. That made me look around. The deco was very vintage English, complete with Victorian furniture and then there were books. Quite a collection! I could happily bury myself in there for the rest of time and not bother about those people who live in my head or even the person in front with her sparkly eyes. She was not old, maybe thirty, but she looked much older. Her body was bent out of shape and her face showed signs of physical pain. I could tell she was sick and ailing. I looked on.

That belligerent and witty tongue could lash out at me, but it remained mute. It could raise a tempest but the waters remained still.

“You know I want to be like those ballerina’s of Dega, frozen in their graceful posture…” Those were the first words that came out of her mouth.

A reply, it came quite effortlessly. Then I bit my tongue. Crap! I sound like an idiot, I thought. “But those ballerinas are frozen, there is no life in them. They’re dead, like dolls…”

She threw her head back and laughed. That sound awakened a primal part of me and the ballerinas of Dega were right in front of me, suspended in space. There was this one figure of a ballerina and right next to her was this strange woman whose face you could not see, hidden by a hat in black attire and they both seemed to be waiting. It felt like us, that moment that time. I felt like the ballerina, massaging her foot in eager anticipation to perform and she was like the chaperon, waiting for that moment when I would set the stage on fire, pushing my body for fleeting moments of grace that would captivate one and all. I do that every day. I push my mind so I could come up with that work of art that would have entire generations enthralled, now you see what a SHAM I AM.

She wanted to be like those ballerinas. Why? Did she not feel their pain, their exhaustion? Did she want to be frozen in time?

“I never leave the house anymore and don’t like having servants,” She told me.

“T.B is painful and in 1920 it is incurable and you also have gonorrhoea, you must be in severe pain, most of the time.” I replied.

“You speak as if you come from some other world.” You can tell the gutsy woman she is.

“I come from the future…” I burst out laughing as I said it. “It sounded like some corny Sci-fi that no one would go to watch.

“You mean the motion picture…” She sounded interested, but then who is not interested in film.

“It’s very interesting that you would bring up the motion picture, because I have this story that I’m working on and the protagonist makes motion pictures, but from a feminine perspective, you know…”

I knew. “You want to explore the feminine angle? You seem content telling us stories through the male POV, Point of view…” I had to explain as she had no idea. Feminism, not one of her strong points.

But then what do you expect from her in 1910? Seems a bit bizarre, absurd if you ask me. I reach out in my pocket to stroke my I phone 6. The screen is cracked, just like my life.

You do not abandon your husband in 1920, you’re a woman and your place is right by his side. There are no other options, do not seek them. She seemed to know about real people, not some theoretical characters, but people of flesh and blood. That captivated me for years. How does a woman of her class and upbringing understand the human condition that well?

How does a marriage last only a day? There are no answers to such theoretical questions? Are writers really so crazy to get married to see what it feels like? Is this research? What is a marriage anyway? There was so much to talk about, but we sat silent.

 

CHAPTER 2

MANSFIELD’S POV

The tuberculosis has drained all my energy, the pelvic pain is getting worse, but my dream portrayal must continue, if anything today there is a seeing that I have felt. It’s not writing, it’s seeing. There are moments when I see all black before my eyes, need to sit down and gather myself, but the imaginative process never stops, it’s akin to breathing.

Much of my work remains unpublished and there are days when I lovingly gaze at them as a sign of acknowledgement and appreciation. Writing or rather seeing is a need and it must be done. In fact this sabbatical from my amorous lifestyle has given me time to write and I am thankful for it for all my stories come from the depths of my being.

Bliss and other Stories has just been published this year and it seems to be doing rather well. But there is suddenly a story inside me. I don’t even know what it is, suddenly I see Maata’s face and her breasts like a motion picture, a silent film and once again I’m back in the Hippodrome and I see the audience. Predictable! Their hands, their heads, their expressions.

I dreamt a story last night, every little detail etched in my mind, down to the smells and sounds and I was a part of it.

I see her eyes. A dark melancholia! An intense hankering for experience in the world of echoes and shadows. Who is she? She could be my alter ego. Her olive skin glows like logs burning at the fireplace, her long, dark hair is threaded like the negroes. Her mind is where she lives, the outside world has no fixity for her. I remember gazing at the audience, why not, I was a part of them. In this story I’m a part of both- I am her and I am the audience.

This story about her, this absurd protagonist who writes these films. Could it be that she makes them? Lumbering away with that heavy contraption of a camera? Who knows in the future there just maybe such women? I’d have loved to discover that platform.

Story-tellers tell stories, it doesn’t matter what the medium is. I have been told my writing is descriptive, just like the way they do it in the studios in America. I could have gone there, but travel for me is not a possibility. It’s why I cannot even go home- New Zealand!! Oh my pain and pleasure.

I’ve been criticized, compared to Chekov, snubbed for my hankering to be free, my will, my feisty nature, but people forget I’m just human. Where is the time? I’ve lost so much, I’ve gained so much. I have cried, I have laughed, I have lived and now I will die.

But this story, it wants to be written. Murray will surely publish most of my work even though I’ve told him not to. It sells, my writing and so shall its fate be, it’ll be sold! I need to sit down on days when the pain is bearable and write. I want to give my readers hope, yes everything is twisted, but there is hope. I was tired of reading every single thing out there from the perspective of a man, I mean how long is society going to ignore us? The fact that the women in my stories have decided to speak up shows me there is hope for us. Our voices need to be heard.

The Fourth way may just be my way, reading Gurdjeiff is a complicated process, yes it has opened up new portals to my experiencing life, but then there is so much left to be discovered and do I have time? Regret, don’t we all have a pinch of that with every sip of life we take. I for one, am swamped with regret. I regret my childhood, I regret the taunts and mocking because of my rather hilarious glasses, I regret not writing more often, I regret not supporting the women’s suffragette in the U.K, I regret not being vocal about it, I regret not telling Maata how much I loved her, I regret my obsession with Chekov. No I take that back, no regrets there. I regret my brother dying like that. I can still see him in uniform, bloody and dusty.

Although I have been quoted as saying that I do not regret anything. I have asked my readers to never regret, but that is only the half truth. Yes regret is an appalling waste of energy and nothing can be built on it, but it exists. I wish I could just erase it away. REGRET ERASED!

The Work must be done, it’s 1922 and here I am in colonial India, Calcutta to be precise, all alone. A sick white woman in the midst of all these natives.

Then I saw her, she was vibrant, her olive skin was smooth as it tasted the Sunlight which played on it and created so many hues that I just watched. I don’t know how she arrived right in front of me, definitely not dressed like the ordinary native girls or like an English lady. She had on trousers like men, I think they’re called denims. The road workers in America wear them as overhauls. I never expected a woman to dress in them and then her long, dark negro like hair. I thought she was a figment of my imagination, the medicines playing a trick on me. After all I was a sick woman. I waited for the apparition to disappear. But she sat there and just stared back. I think we briefly spoke, about Dega’s ballerina’s, but it made no sense.

Theosophy and Gurdjeiff! You know the three types of men or women found in this world- those that are centred in their physical bodies, then the ones centred in their emotional space and those that focus on their minds. What type am I? I have never been able to quantify myself in any one category, I’m indeed a mixture of all three. I have lived centred in the physical, more than not I have existed only in my emotions and then of course my mind is one of my favourite places to visit and spend some time. So yes, I’m a bit of all. All writers are as we have all these stories inside us where we become those people when we write them.

I remember alluding to this story of this woman who makes motion pictures, these dreamy silent films. I think she is my protagonist.

Right now, all I can think of is Van Gogh’s painting- the self portrait. I consider myself a writer/painter. I paint too like Van Gogh, I paint with words.

I just wish I had more time. I want to be healthy again, to experience a full, living-breathing life. I want to be with the Earth and see all the wondrous things- the sea and its infinite waves, the mellow Sunrise of a perfect morn.

I know I exist in this state of hypnotic waking sleep. I want to wake up and I’m willing to see if the Method will help. This story needs to be written. I need to find her again. That woman, no she’s more like a girl. I need to find her.

And then I see it, the Insect scuttles away and there are these strange voices that I can hear. Sounds like some Hindu chants. What is it?

Is my illness getting the better of me? I see myself, is it me or some other woman, no wait it’s her, dressed as Van Gogh, holding a gun to her face. She pulls the trigger!

I see a thick manuscript by the coffee table and note that’s its rather gloomy this afternoon, the wind shakes the trees so. Flashes trouble me- I think I see Lawrence. Murray tells me that THE LOST GIRL is modelled on me. I know, I know that my writing and me in person have had a significant influence on him, and he’s drawn parallels between me and some of his noteworthy characters, but why do I see him, in Colonial India?

My neighbour from Cornwall, my friend, the eminent D.H. LAWRENCE. I am his Albina and we both struggle everyday for our independence and outcasts we’ve become. We shared a number of things in common, I was a colonial outsider; he was from a working-class mining town. I am more like Lawrence than anybody. We are unthinkably alike, in fact. Four of us did form a peculiar brief and uneasy friendship in bleak Cornwall, yet, I treasure those days.

And now I find this letter from Murray. It does nothing for my mood right now, but leafing through it seems to be my only option. So I do it.

“You are all about me – I seem to breathe you, hear you, feel you in me and of me.” I actually wrote those lines for him and felt like I was home in his tent, sitting at his table. It seems far away, back here dreaming of silent films and Virginia Woolf.

There were times when I wanted to strangle my beloved Murray. I go back in my mind to one such incident. It left a sour taste in my mouth. I was cruel, we were verbally bashing one another, oblivious of who was present. I’d like to think it was tragedy that kept us together.

There’s nothing I want more than a cigarette. The curls of smoke rise up to meet their oblivion as I take a pull. It calms my frayed nerves and I take a sip of the tea. Darjeeling tea from the foothills of the Himalayas, a colonial addiction. Tea snobbery!

As I relax, she appears in front of me. Seated in a cluttered desk, she seemed to be looking at something. It looked like a boo, but a light emanated from it. She seemed to be typing like it was some sort of type writer. I couldn’t see properly, the smoke and mist clouded my vision.

Energy Update~Channelled writing

I have been feeling extremely charged with cosmic energy the last few weeks. The Lionsgate Activation, the NM on my birthday in Leo on the 23rd of July, then the FM on my partner’s sign and now the eclipse on my natal Saturn.

Now forget the astro…

BE MENTALLY ACTIVE AT ALL TIMES NOW.

The Solar flares have been insane and other celestial entities are also vroooming the Earth with massive loads of energy. The spirits, fairies, angels or whatever you call them are out and about.

The retrograde planets are adding to the drama and in two days Merc stations retro and is now in shadow! Fuck! Merc in the shadow period is DEADLY and most mistakes happen now.

Listen my Beloved, the energies will only intensify, so please stay connected to whatever or whoever raises your frequency. This is not the time to be fixated on something or someone that brings down your resonance. This is not the time…

Find your MUSE! This is a creativity overflow- so tap into it. Make love to someone beautiful. Your UNCONSCIOUS is rife with material…use it, help us all. Working with ANIMAL and PLANT SOULS can be sooooo healing right now.

The Activation of this portal made me think of my Lion, my Twinflame and what can I say….such profound memories and vibes penetrated deep in me that I know he feels me too. He knows me and is thinking of me as much as I of him. But probably in another dimension. In another parallel world?

The other day, someone from Russia(another psychic) told me that she thinks my twinflame is reading my writing and that got me thinking…

Maybe I should write an open letter to him. He might read it in another DAUGHTER UNIVERSE. Ha!

Okay now listen…

I was listening to all these NASA audios of the planets and while invoking Saturn, I was listening to the sounds he makes and then suddenly, I lost consciousness. I was in another dimension and I do not remember anything.

But listen…what I discovered is that there is a HUGE AMOUNT OF ENERGY coming from the GALACTIC CENTRE WHERE SATURN IS RETROGRADE.

Of course our SPIRITUAL SUN is illumining the collective consciousness with all these bombardments. My Beloved…

There is no place to hide now…

There is also a BLACK HOLE at the centre of the MILKY WAY and there is so much happening put there that we humans who are like ants to these heavenly giants are also feeling it strongly.

Do you know Andromeda is cannibalising the milky way?

https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/hubble/science/milky-way-collide.html

My SPIRITUAL GUIDES tell me that there is imbalance right now in our neck of the woods(eh cosmos?)

Listen, all energy workers are going crazy, because some of us are really not ready to deal with this type of work. It can drive you crazy.

But this is no time to hide.

Listen…

These intense waves of energy is literally made me feel so tuned in and charged that it is hard to explain in words. I feel so orgasmic, so many times without any sexual stimulation. I know the energy is working all the time. Sexual energy is the very crux of creative power.

Now how can I explain the feeling I have been having since my birthday?

There is a humming I hear at times, sounds a bit like a deep OM. Then there are sudden pressure waves that attack my frontal lobe. Headaches, no I do not think they can be called that….whatever these feelings are, whatever is going on in my brain is stupendous.

Sometimes the process is becoming painful and there is strife. It is easy to provoke me now. I am in a state of nostalgia. I don’t know for what or who.

My THROAT CHAKRA and my SOLAR PLEXUS are supremely active.

And on top of that I began to bleed a day before the Aquarius FM. I always bleed with the cycles of the Moon. And my psychic visions are much more powerful when I bleed.

If the pressure gets too much ground yourself.

Hug a tree.

If nothing else works and you need a friend, pm me.

The frequency is rising and the time is coming…

For twinflames to meet…

Oh and do not get upset by your body…

No matter what happens, love your body. This message is not just for my sisters, it applies to my brothers out there too. Thank your body. Talk to it and show it love. Touch yourself sensually as you would a lover. Learn what makes your body tick, so when you join with your twinflame you know WHAT FEELS RIGHT.

Triggers, triggers, triggers…everywhere…CONFRONT YOUR FEARS. Think of what matters.

Don’t cave in. Don’t succumb. Don’t lose yourself.

There was such a profound sadness I felt during the eclipse. That night I dreamt of the cremation grounds. That night I saw myself sitting alone, in front of the flames and breathing.

Yes there was fear in me, but there was also a calm. Slowly watching the fire dance, I realised that fear and calm had become ONE. The flames were flickering and distorted sounds were coming to my ears. Chants, mantras, voices from my past…

Then I saw Ramnath Aghori baba, who is known to be one of the supremely realised yogis from the NATH AGHORA tradition. He has been guiding my journey since the Maha Kumbh mela of 2010.

Ramnath baba was sitting opposite and in his hands, there was the DUMRU. Yes the dumru of Shiva. I heard the primordial NADA or sound of the dumroo and still now I as I write my body is full of goose bumps.

I saw Baba Ramnath take so many shapes- Gorakhnath, Matsyedranath, Shiva, my father, someone who molested me…his face took on so many identities.

Almost like the FACELESS MEN from GOT! But I just sat and watched him.

I seriously have no recollection of what I felt, but I think the message was clear- ALL IS ONE. This vision made my resolve even stronger. I want to write more about tantra. Explore it for people who might not be scholars or yogis. I have always wanted to get those stories out there.

Now cut back to the story… Staring at Ramnath baba and the flames flickering, the sounds drowning my thoughts…that is when a DARKNESS began to envelope my consciousness…that darkness is KALI.

There is nothing here my Beloved..there is only LOVE.

What else do you seek in this illusion?

The Universe wants to know what love is. But how is consciousness going to know what feeling, touching, kissing, making love feels like?

Consciousness has to create holograms like you and me. Real thinking and feeling holograms….to know love, death, pain, anger, sadness, melancholia, orgasmic bliss and all shades of emotions.

I know this eclipse season something within me has been UNLEASHED. I feel this presence strongly. Sometimes it feels foreign, sometimes it feels like me.

This presence of love, of bliss, of orgasmic ecstasy.

Where have the eclipse energies taken you? What frequency are you vibrating at?

The energy is OFF THE CHARTS and it is available to you My Beloved.

Remember I love you, I believe in you and will always do.

Beloved, I am yours for you are mine. I am in you and you in me. We are ONE!

Like the stars above. They are in us and we in them!

The Schumann Resonance Is Spiking – Mother Earth Is Awakening

A great Awakening has been unfolding on Planet Earth and many people have been able to sense it. In recent years the heart beat of the planet has begun to speed up and the consciousness of humanity is expanding and making way for more awareness.~~Higherdensityblog

Collectively we are raising Gaia’s vibrations as we lay the foundations of a new age- of love…love…love…

Let us CO-CREATE our SAGA OF LOVE.