The clock is ticking…

Posted on December 23, 2015 in Art | Comments Off on The clock is ticking…

path of light


She envisions what it would be like.

A life together.


She envisions them coming together and working it out.

Of him being there. Of committing. Them moving forward, together.


She can see it. The love. The attraction. The magick.


She feels him inside of her and can feel the love and passion they have journeyed together over endless lives.  She grabs hold of him with a fierce love that will not let him go. That will not let him descend into the underworld without her. Without her there to call him back. She feels the peaks and valleys as together they journey his darkness and light and she is sent insane by the instability of it. But she stays. Loyal. Loving him. Him loving her, even through his shame and sense of not being worthy of love.


They do it together. They battle the daemons and weave magical spells. And it is an archetypal love. It is mythical. It is something they sing songs about and make films about. It is the story of Hades and Persephone. They are timeless. Endless. Their love consumes them both and they inflict violence upon each other in order to bring each other back into ever increasing states of connectedness and interwoveness. She is fury. She hits him in the face to bring him out of his frozen states. She rides him into the mystery and out again, bringing them both into bliss. Calling him, through her yoni, back into life. In to his body.


Out of the Void and into physicality.


He wants to come inside her. He wants to fill her with his seed and feel his child growing within her belly. He wants to commit to her in that way. He wants to provide for a family together. Part of her wants it so much, too. To feel him come deep within her. She wants to feel it on the sides of her inner walls. Up deep in her womb. Dripping out of her and onto her inner thighs. She wants to feel him – his essence – in the depth of her. But she won’t let him. It is a source of pain and grief for them both, him especially. His heart breaks at this rejection from her.


Despite the love. With all of the passion. With the way they burn in each others arms and he causes her to scream out into the night… her body convulsing and shaking in ways it has never known before his body knew what it was like to be inside her body…


But she won’t let him.


And as she watches this vision unfold; a life together of journeying and magic and love and fire and blood. She knows there is a reason for it. She knows she cannot trust him to stick around and be present. Once there is a life who is really asking for that.


And the clock is ticking.


Her body announcing to her at the most mundane moments of grocery shopping that, “Hey! I’m ready to have babies now.”


Time is ticking.


She must acknowledge the cycles of life she has committed to honouring by being in this physically incarnated life.


The clock is ticking.


She hears it in her ovaries. In the lines forming on her face. By the placement of where she now stands on the life line, heart line, head line, of her palm.


And she has never known him to recognise or honour her time.


There is no rush. There is nothing she can do. She does not go out to do anything at all.


But she knows that what is being asked for is a shift in her internal world. A different orientation in the way she relates to time. To who she is giving her time to. How much she is giving her time to men, who do not have the capacity to really be present for that kind of commitment. Not yet, anyway. Not when she needs that.


It is a life initiation.

It is a stage in the life of Woman.

Love means different things

To what it meant at 20 and 22.

To what it meant when she was 26 and 28, and it was just herself and the present moment to consider.


Now commitment is related to purpose. It is related to family. It is related to support for each person to be their best so that they both can also benefit society and the whole world. Drama and conflict do not support that.  Love. Romance. Relationship. It is no longer just about her and him any more. It is about the whole world and the children to come, when it is right. But she knows she needs to prepare for that occasion. It’s time for a values shift.


So as she sits and envisions what their life could be like together, she sees them making it happen. She sees the love and union. She sees it all, and knows, she doesn’t want it like that.


She stands at the cross roads. She stands at a place of left and right. And on the left side big black birds fly through a blue sky. Heralds of the underworld to come along that path. Messengers of the Mystery and unmanifest magick.  A path of swirling passion and lilting poetry. She has always been one so curious to explore Hades.


Along the right, trees blow their branches in the wind. The light sparkles gold and wildflowers grow across rocks deep, and old, and solid and wise. She hears water singing  and birds calling through sea air. The wind on her face fills her, strong and flowing and sweet. Like clean water from a deep spring. Waters that have touched the depth of rock and have come back up to sky again.


She looks left. And right and left again. She sighs deeply, and blows a kiss, the left path dissolving even as she takes her first step on the path of the light.