Notes on #PussyTalks: Sluts and Whores~~

Wow thank you all for the letters and the notes, the memes and the pictures; they made my day just that much brighter. I had retreated into a very deep place, something to do with my natal Pluto, Mars and Venus aspects from where I might never fully return. Astrological work will be coming up shortly as well as more on Sacred sexuality.

Jupiter in Scorpio brought about a wonderful surprise, remember it is on the third house from Ascendant. The house of communication and the energy is Scorpionic with Jupiter amplifying all those attributes. I spoke to a group of empowered Escorts and sex workers who know and love their work. They also love their clients(well most of them).

You might not know, but I have been interacting with escorts, Johns, Dominas, Tops, Bottoms, Crossdressers and many others from the sex industry for very many years. Collecting data and looking through a Uranian filter on such SCORPIONIC ISSUES.

Something about the way women’s sexuality presented itself in society did not do much for my identity as a sexual being. In fact, I told that virginity was something to be saved for your husband. Fuck yes, I remember it. Fuck, everything to do with sex was such a stigma. All the time.

Obviously bad girls like me do not listen and we do what we need to do to experience life in all its awesomeness. How can you leave out sexuality which is at the very crux of human civilisation?

It made no sense that it was so hush-hush. It made no sense why my BFS got so jealous if other men(including their brothers and their best friends) looked at me or spoke to me with excitement. They behaved like I was their possession and it pissed my rebellious spirit off to no end.

In fact, it happened to me recently. I lost an old friend because her husband could not contain his excitement at meeting me! And this is one woman who should have known that I will never be into her man. Even if he was my type. It hurt me tremendously and is a wound I have been carrying for a few months. There I spoke of it…

Such is the place from which Pussy Talks was conceived. I had to discover for myself that I was not alone. I was not the only woman who CRAVED TO CONNECT. I was not the only woman who wanted it uninhibited, raw, deep and fiery.

I knew there were others.

That is when I learnt of the Virgin/Whore archetypes. That is what society has reduced us to. Either we are good little virgins(wives, mothers, sisters) or we are whores(free minded bitches). I may be a wife, but my husband knows very well and loves the fact that he does not own me. I am as free as he is.

I saw girls gossiping amongst themselves every-time someone lost her virginity. There were always the most psychotic, obsessive, desperate-to-accomplish types who held on to their hymens.

It was strange the way they held on to their virginity as a commodity with which they could in some way leverage a better deal.

Not for me. Hahahahahaha! Some even went for hymen transplantation. Such is the saga of human sexuality today.

Working through the sacred slut archetype yesterday with the ladies MADE ME SO EXCITED that I made up my mind to write this post. Every woman has the right to feel this orgasmic bliss that rocks her whole being. It is as much your birthright as it is mine.

Most times, men will not give it to you, so you must learn to give it to yourself till you find the ONE you can merge in sacred union with. Trust me there is someone who will make love to you and stick all the broken parts back together. Dreamy shit…hahahaha!

Anyway girls, your virginity is not a commodity and the first time you make love, keep in mind that even if the person is not your Mr. Right, even then, be PRESENT in the moment. In the NOW. Be there. Smell him, feel him, feel the whole scenario and just experience it. Do not feel upset if it is not what you had in mind. Embrace the reality while knowing that the fantasy might happen, someday.

There is nothing as disturbing as losing your virginity while drunk or drugged. In fact, if you decide to lose your virginity, make sure, you and your beau abstain from alcohol, especially if you are doing YONI PUJA or tantra meditation sex. Remember, this is not Neo-Tantra, so my ideas may differ from what is being sold in the West as Tantra.

I know that to activate your sexual energy, you have to connect with your pussy. It has to be done. My work with women focuses on activating the GODDESS FORM INSIDE EACH OF THEM and the YONI or the PUSSY becomes a direct symbol of the GODDESS.

The ladies I spoke with were working with sexual energy and if they work with the GODDESS FORM, they might find more magick in the work they do. The men will also respond to this energy flux. This might result in lots of kundalini activity.

Although they were pretty adjusted on the surface, yet, some of them failed to really tap into their INNER SACRED SLUT/WHORE and sex work can become healing work if you just understand how to work with the energy and it all begins with INTENT.

Most girl were telling me that they find no time to meditate or do anything spiritual at which I told them and showed them how putting on your daily make up can become a meditation.

They were thrilled I can tell you that.

As Jupiter moves through Scorpio, society will be confronted with FEMALE SEXUALITY like never before.

Believe me, wild sister, man wanted monogamy. You did not. He decided to control you while you were pregnant and had to depend on him. And look now, what has changed. Women’s reproductive rights are a joke.

Women are way more sexual than men and the Courtesans and Sacred Whore of yore knew this. They were SLUTS because unlike the wives they did not belong to any man, but chose to mate with whomever she liked.

No man controlled her, not with money, not with sex and not with children.

She was free to explore her sexuality and in most cases made it a spiritual practice. Women have this inherent wisdom and trust me, talking to sex workers from all over, I can tell you that they are some of the wisest and experienced women, especially if she has successfully drawn on the COURTESAN archetype.

For the Courtesan was a truly accomplished Artist and MUSE, sometimes of really powerful men. She was a Philosopher, a musician, a singer, a confidant, a seductress and even a top in bed and she played all these roles to perfection.

Why are wives sacred of the Courtesan? Like some women are scared of sexually empowered women? These women are your witches, your bitches and your bossy bosses. Don’t you just hate them? Hahahahahaha!

The wife fears the courtesan because the courtesan does not need any man. But the wife does. Remember she is a wife and her whole identity is wrapped around that little concept.

The Courtesan is free from this. She is sexually free, in most cases(if she is smart, lol) then she decides and chooses her lovers and they in turn provide for her. Yes the Courtesan is seen as a FREE and available woman and in most cases vilified, but it was not so in ancient times and it is also imperative to end the stigma behind sex work and prostitutes. They are girls, like you and me.

Escorts and sex workers have to understand SACRED SEXUALITY, because they work with kundalini energy at the very base level and if they manage to rise up in vibration as a collective, then imagine what could happen. Our society could change.

Being in love with somebody and cohabiting with someday- two totally disparate concepts. How can you love someone if you know them intimately? The courtesan provides the allure, the mysterious. Whereas the wife is an open book that the husband mostly ignores because he has read every page. So instead of going through the painful process of reinventing yourself over and over again(spending tons and tons on the way you look and getting stressed AF), wouldn’t it be better if we redefined feminine sexuality.

It is so very important for women as a collective to come together and scream out that- WE RECLAIM OUR SEXUALITY, our reproductive rights…We will decide as well how sex and sexual imagery will be portrayed in media and in society.

Look at the images in front of you…hacked and quartered limbs of women selling you products. The breast will sell you everything, but when it pops out to feed an infant- ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE. While breastfeeding my toddler the other day at the airport, I was stunned at how many men stared at my breast, forgetting the fact that they were once babes suckling on their moms.

Look sexual imagery is created for the MALE GAZE. There are no spaces for women to express their sexual preferences, desires, fantasies and the rest. Fuck that, there is really no avenue for women to be sexually empowered. Look around you, wherever you go…the violence on women is apparent and evident.

You cannot hide from it now.

Working through SACRED SEXUALITY and all the archetypes in our consciousness must be a top priority, not just for sex workers, but for all women and men out there.

Men are being fed a garbage diet of misogynistic porn and soon to come, robot sex. Think hard. How will a man handle the idiosyncrasies of a real woman. So men, tune into your sacral chakra. It has a lot of wisdom.

Men are not from Mars and women are not from Venus, although they are the cosmic archetypes of masculine and feminine. Both men and women are from Earth and it is time to join together.

A woman is way more sexual than a man. Believe me and please note that the walls of the vagina do not get stretched or loose with sex. In fact the pussy is full of elasticity, the muscles and tissues can expand and contract easily and return to how it used to be.

I have heard so many women bring this up as a lack of interest in the men that I feel like shouting it out from the roofs tops. Google it bitches…check it out. You can start the Kegels later on now.

There is so much bullshit propaganda around female sexuality thatt it has perverted human sexual expression and its freedom. Society never makes women’s sexuality a priority. It is a filter through which a male can masturbate and enjoy. Watch the lesbian porns out there and you will know of what I speak. You already do.

The clothes we are meant to wear. They are so freaking uncomfortable, some of them, yet they serve the purpose of the male gaze. Look at the bikini, it is an elaborate subterfuge to get women exposed so men can stare at them while sitting with their wives. Making the wife insecure and getting her hating on the younger girl. See how it is a vicious cycle. The wife hates the sexually free woman, even though they both stand oppressed in the hands of patriarchy.

Little girls are falling under the trap of hyper sexualisation and that is creating a more perverted scenario where they find it hard to fit in and adhere to set norms of beauty because they are unrealistic.

If women became sexual beings and decided to take matters in their own hands, then things could change. Women can bring about a change in the way society perceives and separates us.

Maybe there can be BALANCE if men and women contribute to the sexual repertoire. It will benefit us as a culture.

Ladies reading this, you need to reclaim the INNER WHORE and trust on your vagina. You have to begin a relationship with it and start to love it. Like your womb.

You can only bring pleasure to your husband if you learn to pleasure yourself and take sex as an artform. If you tap into the COURTESAN archetype, you will see how it shifts your whole energy signature and sexually awakened tigresses are beacons of hope for the rest of the females because we have been so repressed and controlled in that department that we have lost our voices to speak of sexual pleasure. Or wait, people might call you a SLUT/WHORE.

So what?

 

DONATE TO ME AND SUPPORT THIS WORK

I intend to work with escorts, sex workers and others from the sex industry and am available for Talks, Seminars and Discussions. Feel free to book me for such events.

tina@tinaheals.com

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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.

The Art of Touch~

Do you know the inner resonance of your frequency? Do you feel the vibe of your core truth? Have you decided to explore it ever?

Working with spices as I bleed is so profound that no words can describe it. It is like the spices come alive to share the wisdom of my womb which is connected to the cosmic womb. Your womb is also connected to this very womb of the Great Mother.

The last two days there has been a geomagnetic storm and the solar winds, mingled with the eclipse energy, retrograde energy and the Pisces FM energy is making me retreat somewhere deep within to connect to my womb. It is from this sacred space that I come to you with love.

I am not here to heal you. No one can do that. I am here to love you and love you I shall. That love will create a scared space in which you will heal yourself My Beloved.

The geomagnetic storms affect my whole being and it is radical. I cannot explain the whole process because I do not understand it myself. It is also changing you and your physical body. Be mindful to the subtle energy shifts and you will begin to feel them happen.

Today I feel compelled to talk to you about touch. An essential component of human healing is touch and believe me being a Venus in Virgo, I have always been a huge touch-me-not. Even before the sexual abuse that took place in my life.

And after that, touch became a scary thing. Sex became hollow because I was faced with so much guilt and shame that somewhere intimacy was lost. I avoided kissing or looking into the eyes of my lovers.

Richard was the first guy I did not feel averse to kissing on the first day while we made love, which is why I am still with him. He made me feel comfortable and I opened up to his touch and kisses like with no one else. Of course it took me a lot of time and work to be able to touch myself and truly make love to him. And the fear not only isolated me from myself, but it scared me shitless to touch other people, but all that is the past and now I feel no fear at touching because it is coupled with love and healing intention.

Although I confess I find it easier to touch women than men, but that fear of being touched and touching is gone. You know why? Because now the love component is back in the equation. Without love for oneself and the partner in question sex can become cold and scary; just a chore.

Intimacy and sex are two sides of the same coin. You cannot truly immerse yourself in sexual proclivities if you fear intimacy. Even if you are with a stranger. Sex requires surrender. It requires you to be engaged in the moment. It requires you to give your egoself up, at least temporarily.

Healing can happen with touch therapy. But most people equate touch with “happy endings”. Tantric massages are raking in the big bucks, but is that touch truly healing? There is nothing tantric in those massage parlours.

When a healer touches you, they absorb all the negative, positive energies in your auric field and that is extremely challenging especially for empaths or emotional sponges like me. When I embrace you, I absorb your feelings, your emotions, your thoughts and that can leave me feeling out-of-sorts. Yes I am a psychic energy worker, but trust me, nothing in this realm is fool-proof and even the most experienced healers have been known to be overwhelmed at times.

As I come in contact with your physical body, our magnetic bodies mingle and we can literally download information from each other. That is why the body behaves in a certain way when we are open and receptive to another person.

Notice the next time you feel attracted to someone or just feel really close. Watch how your body reacts. This is how holographic information gets exchanged in the simulation. And all human beings behave the exact same way, which is why we all have the same micro-expressions to emotions and situations.

Touching and hugging not only makes your brain release seratonin, it also releases oxytocin, which is the antithesis of adrenaline. Oxytocin makes you stress free.

I work with touch therapy because I believe that touch is a way to say things that words cannot. And when I touch you, your response to my touch often times guides me to work with your energy.

Inner child work cannot be truly accomplished without loving touch. Scientists have discovered that at whichever age, the child stops receiving love and affection, that is the age in which the individual remains stuck in. If till seven you were loved and suddenly that love went missing or was replaced with discipline and work, then it is likely you will remain a seven year old in your mind.

Touch therapy is very effective for individuals looking to heal from mother centric issues. Sometimes touching these people like a mother can open their closed hearts. It is beautiful and I have seen it happen so many times.

Our physical bodies are feeling great pressure as we adjust to the shifting frequencies of the 5D Earth grid. This can become excruciatingly chaotic to handle and if this energy is not dealt with, then it can manifest as disease.

Touch therapy is the best methodology to help the physical body go through this change. Touch amplifies feelings of peace, bliss and tranquillity. It is the answer to loneliness.

You can help raise someone’s resonance by touching them with INTENTION to heal. Try this. Hug someone who really needs it and while hugging, think of them being healed by the Goddess or Cosmic Intelligence. Whatever works for you.

Touch can numb painful external stimuli as well. Try it, especially in crisis situations.

That is why, you must never leave your baby to cry and soothe herself. You must always hug and hold your baby. I suggest baby-wearing. That is what I did the whole time with my baby. And I wore her in a saree, using it like a cloth.

In fact “touch” therapy even works if it is at a distance. But there has to be openness between the two involved. You can consciously “touch” someone who may not even be in the same country. How does this happen? Through the quantum morphological field.

The floods across Gaia have been due to the intense eclipse energy and it also has to do with Saturn retro in 21 degrees Sag until September 13 when it moves onto 22 degrees. Then the sign of The Woman Giving Birth appears in the heavens on September 23. The Houston hurricane is symbolic of the water breaking before the woman gives birth.

We are giving birth to a new era collectively and let us not underestimate the importance of touch.

 

 

 

 

For someone in some Multiverse

I know somewhere deep within the heart of the cosmos, you and me are in each other’s arms, maybe watching the Helix nebula. I know you are looking at me, like no one ever has and no one ever will, because only your eyes can perceive the depth of my soul. Only  you can understand my beauty the way you do.

I can see the love in your eyes. I can feel the memories of eternities coalesce into time and space, kaleidoscopes of memories flashing, the cacophony of your voices in diverse timelines calling my name, the sound of your laughter. It is all there, in my mind Beloved.

All those memories. All those eternities, they are compressed somewhere in my unconscious. I know we have grown old in each other’s arms a million, billion times. I know we have raised and cared for so many children. I know it. All those memories are buried in this 3D world. My conscious mind barely remembers you.

But somewhere, something has stirred and snippets of memory flood my mind. They refuse to go away. They torture me, they plague me, until I meditate or write or do photography. I have to channel this intensity in art. That is why I have lost myself in art this lifetime beloved.

I know you are there somewhere, in the Universe today. Not by my side and you will not grow old with me. Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. I don’t know why. Why is there so much pain for a life never lived? For memories never shared? How is every inch of you so very precious to me? When I have not even touched your body?

I know you irritate me too, and anger me and provoke me. But then I know that you are here to show me parts of my soul. For you are my soul. Is that even possible?

Why do I feel so linked to you? I know I have never met you. At least not consciously. Maybe somehow, somewhere our paths have crossed in this 3D and we probably did not recognise each other. I know I was not spiritually mature enough to identify you. Maybe you managed to identify me?

Maybe we met…maybe we looked at each other across the room. Maybe we passed each other on the beach? In some party?

I have fallen in love, but not the intensity I know I can experience with you. Yes I can love without you, but I don’t want to. I know you will come.

In fact even if you are in another dimension, I know you will find a way to time travel through the warps of time and space. You will come to meet me.

I want to tell you that you have been my muse and I am so thankful for all the creative energy you have sent my way. I can feel your energy, you know, at times. Especially when you think of me. And I know when you are thinking of me, because every fibre of my being can feel that longing from your end. I can feel how badly you want me. I want you as badly, if not more.

You know I am reminded of Keats when he says, My love has made me selfish…not because your love has in any way made me selfish, but because it has done the very opposite. Your love has opened me up to greater love that exists in creation. The love I feel for you is now expressed as love for all.

You are my home. Even if you are stacked away in some other multiverse. Maybe we will meet when our Universes collide and information bleeds into both of them. That is when you and me may come face to face.

Will our timelines collide? Will the hologram direct you to me?

I know I have been waiting…for a very long time for you to come. But you never came and I am not angry with you about that. I understand you are yet not ready to come which is why you have not come. I am not ready obviously as well.

I want to tell you one thing…I am a survivor. I have survived molestation, I have survived the cruel world, I have survived terrible relationships and I am still here.

In fact nothing could break me. I knew of the spiritual world and of you. I knew this 3D world is illusion. Everything here is an illusion, even the rape. This reality is JUST ANOTHER SIMULATION.

Which is why you are probably so far away, in another multiverse, in another timeline. Tell me, are you aware of me? Do you know I exist? Does your soul call out to mine? Does your body crave to be entwined with mine?

I know you know of me, whether consciously or unconsciously is the question. Have you reached that spiritual level of identifying me? I haven’t obviously.

ARE YOU CONSCIOUSLY AWARE OF ME?

The thing is, I know of you because when everything turned cold and dead, you existed, as a flame in my heart. I am wild, my Beloved. I am untamed as I roam the earth looking for you.

I have looked for you in many dimensions, through the Bardos, through the Nine Gates of Hell and I am not even sure if I managed to find you there. For I don’t remember when we last met in the physical world.

I just have sudden flashes. Of your eyes. Your smile. Your hair.

Sometimes I am sure I have heard you call my name. I don’t know what name you called me by, but I know you were calling me. Time and again, I have woken up in my sleep, my heart beating ferociously.

I know the time will surely come one day. Do you feel that? Do you feel the urge to meet me? I was not expecting you to show up in this life, but now I so badly hope for that.

You know as I began to type this letter, I knew the futility of this exercise. How will I express myself? How will I explain my love for you? How will I reveal to you what your heart feels for me? For I know when we meet, we will melt away…in each other’s arms.

I am typing this…hoping that our timelines collide and somehow through digital interference you get to read this in your own multiverse. I think if you read it(presuming you are not reading it already), then you might figure out the whole goddamn connection. Maybe in your Universe, there is time travel available. Maybe you can hop into some hi-tech piece of computation and visit me here. Yes here, on my humble Earth.

My Earth may be slightly polluted, but she is very beautiful. When you come, maybe I can take you to Goa. Maybe you have a Goa in your Universe. Wow!

Let me share a quote with you…You are all about me – I seem to breathe you – hear you – feel you in me and of me…Katherine Mansfield wrote that to her lover. In case you don’t know who she is, well…she is probably one of the best short story writers in the world and a feminist icon. She is my favourite and has been my muse for a screenplay I wrote based on her love life. She had a tempestuous love life BTW.

The quote sort of echoes what I feel about you.  How succinctly she puts it…feel you in me and of me…SUBLIME! We are of each other- star dust, my Beloved.

Have you felt like that about someone? Is that someone me? Just ask your heart.

I have visualised us making love. So many, so many times that it drives me nuts to even think about it. This obsession with you has now become all consuming and I cannot stop thinking about you. Sleepless have I become in this 3D illusion, my Beloved.

In a way your love woke me up. From the dense vibrations of this manifestation. It brought with it a subtlety of feeling and emotion and of course creative fire. I have become a poet for you, for your love.

I have become a dancer for the music you play. Tell me Beloved, are you CONSCIOUSLY PLAYING THAT MUSIC? Or are you just as unaware as I am.

You are my nightmare as much as my dream.

You are my smile as much as my scream.

 

Let me end here before I go crazy.

 

 

 

Kali, Kali, Kali

“DARKNESS ALONE FILLED THE BOUNDLESS ALL, FOR FATHER, MOTHER AND SON WERE ONCE MORE ONE, AND THE SON HAD NOT AWAKENED YET FOR THE NEW WHEEL, AND HIS PILGRIMAGE THEREON.” ~~HPB

KALI MANTRA FOR INVOCATION~~

Sarvamaṅgalamāṅgalyē śivē sarvārthasādhikē . śaraṇyē tryambakē gauri nārāyaṇi namō’stu tē. Oṃ jayantī mangala kālī bhadrakālī kapālinī . durgā ksamā śivā dhātrī svāhā svadhā namō’stu‍tē

The DARK GODDESS has been the anchor of my soul in the turbulent seas of samsara. My support system, my provocateur, my muse, my melancholia…I could go on forever, for she or that energy exists in everything, everyone and every experience.

Sometimes, tears stream down my face and I think that WHEN IS ENOUGH ENOUGH! Is there any end to my avaricious wants, desires and needs? After going through so much, so much pain, am I still not done wanting more? Everything dies. Everything vanishes. Everything fades away. Confronted with my own mortality, thoughts cease to function with the same effectiveness.

Kali, listen to me, and stop this torture. Put an end to this 3D illusion, you DARKNESS. And please, by DARK, I DO NOT MEAN EVIL!

HPB discusses DARKNESS “…in the sense of the Unmanifested and the Unknown as the opposite pole to manifestation, and that which falls under the possibility of speculation. … it is not Darkness as absence of Light, but as one incomprehensible primordial Principle, which, being Absoluteness itself, has for our intellectual perceptions neither form, colour, substantiality, nor anything that could be expressed by words.”

Even the BIBLE states, “darkness surrounds the pavilion” of God!

Absolute Light and Absolute Darkness are interchangeable terms, as are Absolute Consciousness and Absolute Unconsciousness. Duality is the very harmonics of this resonance!

Kali’s bosom is my place of retreat and I can feel her embrace as I look at the dark night around me. The night envelops me in her arms and it is none other than my DARK ONE. How can I love the FORCE OF TIME? That random abstract principle? I cannot. I can only think of her as Kali.

Being Bengali, you grow up with a healthy dose of everything Kali. And there I discovered some of the most precious gems in the form of verses written by a Mystical Poet in Bengal. His name was Rajanikanto. Those verses echoed every single thought of my six year old brain. I used to know them by heart at that age.

How could a child grasp, to some extent this LARGENESS OF EMOTION. This gorgeousity of devotional fervour! I mean how? I don’t know. Even today I am perplexed. All I remember is locking myself in the room, listening to the cassette tapes again and again, sobbing my eyes out. It was like every word pricked my consciousness to remind me of WHO I AM.

Who am I? Who is Kali? What is this world? Why are we here?

See I bifurcate again. I was talking about those mystical verses. In one of them, the poet has written…

No one on Earth loves.

In fact, this Earth does not know how to love.

Take me away, to where there is only LOVE.

My heart craves for such a place…

Got me evaluating at a very young age. What does LOVE mean in the 3D realm of duality?

Seriously guys…what the fuck does love mean?

What does it mean to you? What does it mean to your family?

Who do you extend that love to?

The answers to these questions fester like putrid stuff in the quagmire of my mind. There is no resolution for there is no love. LOVE IS LOST.

Kali has taught me how to LOVE. By making sure that I break my conscious paradigm again and again, she has made sure that I AM LEFT WITH NO OPTION TO LOVE.

To be a child of Kāli, Rāmprasād asserts, is to be denied of earthly delights and pleasures. Kāli is said to refrain from giving that which is expected, I quote from Wiki, but trust me I know exactly what this means.

After making sure that nothing goes the way I want, Kali made me see that DESIRE IS INDEED THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. Does that mean that I have no desires? I still do, the stupid 3D being that I am. Everyday is a lesson learnt. Life is not what I want it to be, because life is just the way it is meant to be.

Didn’t Lao Tsu try to drill this ACCEPTANCE part of existence into our collective consciousness? He failed. Human know nothing about acceptance. And I speak of myself…can I truly JUST BE? Think about it. A state of JUST BEING does not equate to a state of NON BEING.

Of course I will initiate karma in this world as my desires push me to, but then I have to accept that there will be DISAPPOINTMENTS and Kali showed me how to grow from that disappointment. All this pain, resentment and anger inside me, she, the COSMIC MOTHER soothed away. Like only mothers can. Who will stand up for this?

The father can never calm the baby the way a mother can. After all, it is her physiology that creates the child. The father is the seed. The MILKY WAY is a mother BTW. Yes she is feminine.

The Milky Way (feminine) and Andromeda (masculine) are simply a galactic expression of this principal. ~~http://moonbirdblog.com

They are the SHIVA/SHAKTI as galaxies. Whoa! Something to ponder about.

Yet, why is there rampant patriarchy ruling the Earth when indeed, she is feminine, just like her mother, the Milky Way. That is the imbalance.

Kali is the unrestrained, most secretive feminine principle that carries withing it eternal mysteries of fertility, magic, death, birth and regeneration! And that POWER is external as well as internal. Do not believe me? Everyone has an internal Kali. It is true.

AS ABOVE SO BELOW

In those mystical verses, the Poet sings…

Everything happens because you will it so,

You are the Will of the Universe, Oh Tara,

You execute whatever needs to be executed through me.

And the foolish think, it is my feat!

It is your INTERNAL KALI, that PRIMEVAL, CATACLYSMIC, SUPREME POWER that does what you need to do. Your karma or actions all arise from a deep spiritual unconscious that is manifested in 3D from the etheric fields as they SOLIDIFY.

Yes SPIRITUAL UNIVERSES solidify and become dense. That is when Universal forces of SHIVA/KALI come to play. And it is these forces that play through everything. The ETERNAL TWINFLAMES creating Universes to experience, grow, love, hurt, cry and die. Shiva/Shakti as mere mortals. As you and me.

This age is in dire need of Kali’s benevolence…OF HER DARK FORM.

“THE SEVEN SONS WERE NOT YET BORN FROM THE WEB OF LIGHT. DARKNESS ALONE WAS FATHER-MOTHER, SVABHAVAT; AND SVABHAVAT WAS IN DARKNESS.” ~~HPB

Do not be fearful of her wrathful emanation! Nobody understands Kali.

There is so much DISTORTION in her myths, so much SENSATIONAL YELLOW JOURNALISM done on her person(sounds familiar? Like any other woman),, that her story is lost to the world of patriarchy.

People are fearful of her. Even today, in India, I have had people see her image on the wall and comment how it is DANGEROUS to keep an image of her at home. I mean is every single Bengali household doing it wrong? Kali, whether she is worshipped or whether she hangs as a feminist symbol, can be seen pretty much in every house in Calcutta.

She is a part of our History. She is our guide. She is our mother. She is our consciousness.

Kali is ALL-CONQUERING! So whatever it is that you want to win over, there is no better YIDAM or meditation deity than her. So invoke her if you need to work with this SEVERANCE energy.

Kali is not a Vedic Goddess. She is a tantric Goddess and she is MAHAMAYA, the manifested reality. She stands on KALA, or ETERNAL TIME and become SPACE.

Space is dark, Kali is dark.

Kālī is the feminine form of kālam (“black, dark coloured”). Kālī also shares the meaning of “time” or “the fullness of time” with the masculine noun “kāla”—and by extension, time as “changing aspect of nature that bring things to life or death.” Other names include Kālarātri(“the black night”), and Kālikā (“the black one”).

The homonymous kāla, “appointed time”, which depending on context can mean “death”, is distinct from kāla “black”, but became associated through popular etymology. ~~WIKI

Tantra texts call KALI, KALASHAKTI, the REASON OF CAUSATION!

There is no stop to this play, this eternal play that is going on between the masculine and the feminine. They stop not for a moment. For if they stopped their exchange of energy, everything ceases to be. Nothing remains.

This HOLOGRAM, stacked UNIVERSES, Daughter Universes…everything manifests because of SHIVA/SHAKTI. Call them what you like! They are the binary!

The Kalikula (family of Kali) form of Shaktism is most dominant in Nepal, northern and eastern India, and is most widely prevalent in West Bengal, Assam, Bihar and Odisha, as well as parts of Maharashtra, Bangladesh and some parts of Kerala. Kalikula lineages focus upon the Devi as the source of wisdom (vidya) and liberation (moksha). They generally stand “in opposition to the brahmanic tradition,” which they view as “overly conservative and denying the experiential part of religion.” ~~WIKI

Kali is the principle deity. So you see, how she has been up in arms against the patriarchal Vedic religion which even denied women the right to become priests.

My Ancestors have a special connection to Kali other than just being from Bengal. My grandmother comes from a family which were the main Brahmin Priests and caregivers of Kali and her temple in Calcutta. They were Haldars and there is a street named after my ancestor. Everyone knows the HALDARS even today and our connection to the place is also no secret.

My grandmother’s grandmother used to take a dip in the Ganges first thing in the morning(crack of dawn) and open the temple with the aarthi. I have so many stories from my grandmother that I wish to share. Stuff she heard from her grandmother. And then of course what bonded us was the love we shared for Kali. It stretched across generations and mitochondrial DNA. So standing before you, a Priestess of the hoary past…:)

I will continue my saga of love for my DARK ONE and I suggest to you that if you have not researched her, then please do. See for yourself, if the DARK ONE speaks to you and let me know.

I will speak of Bamakhyapa, Ramnath Aghori, Paramhamsa Vishuddhananda and of course Sarada ma, Vivekananda and much more…but for now I leave you with a profound thought from the Sage Ramakrishna…

Kali is none other than Brahman. That which is called Brahman is really Kali. She is the Primal Energy. When that Energy remains inactive, I call It Brahman, and when It creates, preserves, or destroys, I call It Shakti or Kali. What you call Brahman I call Kali. Brahman and Kali are not different. They are like fire and its power to burn: if one thinks of fire one must think of its power to burn. If one recognises Kali one must also recognise Brahman; again, if one recognises Brahman one must recognise Kali. Brahman and Its Power are identical. It is Brahman whom I address as Shakti or Kali.

 

 

 

Twinflame Musings~~

These lovely words keep ringing in my ears, from King Solomon’s The Song of Songs: “My beloved spake, and said unto me, ‘Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come.’ ”

 

Fragments of lives lived swim through my consciousness as the eclipse season approaches. The North Node is firing up my individual sense of SELF and is connecting me super strongly to my Twinflame. The North Node and South Node are in Leo/Aquarius polarity. Strangely, my partner is Aquarius Sun and I am Leo Sun. If you are either, then this alignment will bring into focus your EXS, CURRENT PARTNER, POTENTIAL PARTNERS(TWINFLAMES), FOES, GROUPS, FRIENDS and TEAMS. The last time the NN was in Leo was back in 1999, one of the most pivotal moments of my life. For the first time, I claimed my Leonine self and broke off a horrible and abusive relationship with a narcissist. I began to author my life, left my city, moved alone to Bombay and began to live alone. And I feel that my twinflame portal is opening. It’s complicated

With each meditation on twinflames, I have had some really intense flashbacks and with Chiron, Neptune going retro my dreamtime is jampacked and I’m lovin’ it. I have felt, touched, sensed that person in ways that cannot be described by mere words. I have felt his energy so strongly that it took me awhile to return to this reality. This 3D timeline. And some other people have also felt this intensity while meditating with me on FB at 11.11. If you want to connect with your twin, then join us whenever you want at 11.11 pm IST. You can do it in your timezone too.

Space and Time does not exist and Carlyle echoes this truth that they are the “deepest of all illusory appearances.” Everything is an illusion, then what of love? What of the Twinflame concept? This Full Moon may be in practical and steadfast Capricorn, but there is so much SCORPIONIC energy in the air that it is  making me feel all sorts of raw and primal. My whole being is heightened and there is a deep sense of yearning- for union. Deep, sexual union of the mystical kind.

Plato’s allegory of the cave rings true to this concept. You know how 3D relationships are so painful and we think that that is love. But it is not. It is like those shadows that Plato’s cavemen saw and the Twinflame relationship is like the blinding light that hit them when they finally turned and looked at the light. Yes sure the twinflame revelation will be painful, but you will finally look towards the light. Is that not worth it?

You see your consciousness is not confined to this space/time continuum, but you are not accessing all the portals. With your present state of awareness, you see less than 1% of the elecromagnetic spectrum. There is so much happening right under your nose, but you are blissfully unaware. Only during meditation can you access those energies.

Sometimes being unaware aka ignorant is bliss. You settle into the life in front of you, isolate yourself from your authentic needs and desires and bury your nose in the pussy of consumerism and materialism. There is nothing beyond the five senses yes?

What is in front of you, you believe to be real. If you can touch someone, feel someone, kiss someone, then you know they are here, they are real. But what if you have felt someone with equal intensity, except not in the 3D physical world, but in the realms of 5D consciousness.

Reincarnating through aeons of space/time, you have lived as so many beings. You have been everything that there is to be and finally you have donned the role of a human. The Universe is one of infinite number of multiverses stacked on top of one another. There is no end, there is no beginning. It is cyclical.

The GODHEAD or the ULTIMATE TRANSCENDENTAL REALITY is impersonal and is the source code from which the matrix comes into being. Esoteric wisdom says that we are the breaths of the GODHEAD, we come into being with the EXHALATION and we return to deep sleep in the CREATOR with the INHALATION.

Duality seems to be the CRUX of this manifested Universe and that is reflected in the world through multiple rules and patterns that the Universe displays. This duality is the very fundamental basis for the Twinflame theory. When we separate from a homogeneous WHOLE into TWO, we experience the Universe.

Male/Female polarities make this reality visible. Your yearning for sexual union is nothing but a yearning to crawl back into the original state of innocence when there was no separation. What is sex? Male/female polarities coming together- the lingam and the yoni, each created for the other, unite in friction which brings forth the seed of life.

You know this yearning for sex and love finally becomes mysticism and spirituality if you know how to channel these energies to their highest vibrations. When you truly experience love(not fall in love), then you are infused with a DIVINE FERVOUR.

Have you noticed how new lovers do not need to eat, sleep or do anything as long as they are with each other. But this wears off for most of us and we are left with disappointments after the honey-moon phase. What happens? The whole structure of family is disintegrating. Love, dating, relationships are severely challenged. Ask a Twinflame coach, she will tell you.

What then is the necessity of a concept like twinflames? Isn’t that supposed to create more havoc with our lives. Everything has its good and bad, its positive and negative side. I already spoke of duality which is all pervasive. Hence nothing is irredeemably evil or good.

“Esoteric philosophy admits neither good nor evil per se, as existing independently in nature” ~~HPB

The Twinflame concept is interwoven in the fabric of our psyche. This all-consuming, intense and electrifying love, love which poets have written about, musicians have composed unbelievable melodies for…we all crave it. Yet, it eludes us, most of us. But some will pursue it till the last breath. Kinda dramatic right? Leo energy. Ha!

Most of us are willing to be ignorant that such love exists, for we do not want to get off our asses and do all the hard work. Ignorance is bliss. You do not meet your Twinflame in most incarnations. Nope! That is enough to deter most. But let me tell you, most relationships nowadays is addictive. But your connection to your twinflame is not addictive, it is all about CONNECTION. Such deep connection that it will reconnect you to the Earth, to all life and to the Cosmos at large. Yes that is the power of love.

Even though it might be for a person, if you are successful at holding onto that frequency for long, then you will be emancipated from this 3D space/time continuum. You are a conduit for much highers forces. Life in 3D is messy, but it is this mess that you have to straighten. It is your mess and it is my mess. It is a collective mess.

I am a persona non grata in certain circles due to my research and teachings on twinflames. People have blatantly tried to tell me that my search is futile. I am wasting my time. They have tried to hint that maybe I am not happy with my relationship.

There is only one thing I can say to those haters. I am a messenger of love and love will always be my subject of study. I will scrutinise and study all meanings, definitions, experiences that love has to offer. It is my KARMIC POTENTIALITY which has given me this IMPULSE to explore this theme and share it with the world and everyone in my life supports me a 100%. There!

I had been aware of this twinflame energy since I can remember. This intense yearning for this type of love has given me artistic and creative energy, it helped me integrate dance, magick and ecstatic orgasms in my artwork. And being psychic I have seen and felt things I cannot describe.

Let me share with you a vision I had recently. For a while I have been dreaming about lighthouses. I don’t know where this particular lighthouse stands, but I can tell you it is one of the most breathtaking locales your eyes can ever see. It’s like a painting. There is a storm raging and I am opposite the lighthouse, staring at the blinking light. There is a din and a boat seems to be swaying in the turbulence. My heart is in my mouth as I wait for the safe anchoring of that boat. I run down the steep slopes. Tumbling down the treacherous path, I cut myself and rip my clothes, blood gushing down my arms. Suddenly there is blood gushing out of my vagina. My heart beats with intensity as I touch that blood. Whoosh, whoosh! Suddenly there is a wave. Ginormous it is. A tsunami. Almost. My heart skips a beat as the wave comes crashing down and suddenly someone holds me tightly and I can sense his breathing. I close my eyes as his hands carress my skin and breasts. The panic has left me. The wave is about to hit us, and I am sure it is the end. I know it is him. The one I have been searching, but I have not seen his face or glimpsed into his eyes. How will I recognise him? Fuck that now, the huge wave will hit me any moment and I am so turned on. But it does not. I open my eyes and realise that someone I am in cave. The whole cave looks like a Garden of Eden. Yes I am naked and no my Adam is not there. The scene begins to disintegrate. I begin to howl which morphed into a cacophony, playing through multiple dimensions. No, I want to see him. Out of nowhere a tune begins to play. I remember that tune. It was all so real. No it is because it is happening somewhere. I do not know where. Somewhere.

Do you want to know more about your love story? Your twinflame journey?

Look at Leo which is the 5th house. What planets are there?

Where is your Sun? Where is Venus? If you are a man, look for your Venus Mars placements that will tell you what kind of a woman you desire. For example, Venus in Leo guys desire a glamour queen. Venus in Aquarius desires something unconventional. If you are a woman, check for both your Venus and Mars placements. Your Mars placement will tell you what kind of a guy you prefer and your Venus will tell you what type of a lover you are. Then check your Libra. What planets are there, what house is it? You may also look at Taurus and the second house to some degree. I have a HIGHLY ACTIVE LEO section, although my 5th house is Capricorn and there are no planets there. Leo is my 12th house, so love has this poignant overture of loss and pain. It has always been that way.

There is much to write and will take it up soon…

Are you interested to meet your TWINFLAME? Are you in one such relationship?

tina@tinaheals.com

http://www.tinaheals.com

 

 

 

 

The Song of Remembrance~ Twinflame Awakening

Is it immortality I seek?

I dare not make such demands.

For what if I have to be without you?

There is no meaning in the meaninglessness of life.

Without you.

You ignite the fire of my soul.

And wild passions in my body.

Life itself is a mockery.

A moment equals to numerous lifetimes.

Have you forgotten everything?

All those smiles and tears.

Those tears in smiles and those smiles in tears.

In all those Universes and dimensions?

Do you not remember how my tears flow every time I kiss you?

Do you not feel my pain?

All those lives we lived.

In each other’s embrace.

You have forgotten every single thing.

From every single lifetime.

And I am cursed with remembrance.

It is my curse to burn in the fires of anguish.

To yearn to be one with you.

Here I am Beloved.

To sing about those days.

I will find you, you will see.

Life moves on.

Do you remember the last time you died in my arms?

For it has happened many, many times.

Watching life leave you, my beloved.

I have died a million deaths.

But what is life?

What is death?

Energy never dies.

It is indestructible.

Do you at least remember the times I died in your arms?

Do you feel any of that intensity?

We return time and again.

On this Earth,

For the vow of love.

Do you not remember your multiple lives?

Nirvana eludes us my beloved.

Because all we want is each other.

And we are willing to be born again and again.

I have wanted you and you me,

For eternity.

We have loved and been together through unending time.

How many more times will we incarnate?

To carry on with this vicious cycle?

To just love each other?

This vibration pulls us here.

To be born in flesh.

As man and woman.

To touch each other and make love.

In Mesopotemia.

In Egypt.

In the Indus Valley.

In Babylon.

I have always been looking for you.

And you for me.

Do you remember?

How we were separated in the Tower of Babylon?

When we began to speak different languages?

Did you understand the language of my eyes?

For words mean nothing.

My beloved, I look for you in the stars above.

In the myths, legends and fairytales of mankind.

In the eternal love stories of humanity.

That first initiation.

On the banks of the Ganges.

The Buddha initiated us.

We were both together my beloved.

As we embraced the eternal Dharma.

That sunrise in Bodhgaya.

That mantra still rings in my ears.

Have you forgotten it?

Us, side by side, holding hands.

Surrendering to the Universe.

Your shaven head.

Your teary eyes.

I know those eyes.

Do all these memories not reside in you?

I remember it all, my beloved.

Our revolution and love.

You and me.

Through space and time.

Wash away the debris from your heart.

Feel our deep connection.

That nothing can erase.

I remind you my love,

You will keep coming back and so will I.

Till we do not join in sacred union.