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Honor the huge moon! The renewal comes as karma rolls up her carpet.

The Acts of St. John, Chapters 94-102

And before he was taken by the Jews outside the law, whose law comes from a serpent outside the law, he gathered us all together and said: Before I give myself over to them, let us praise the Father in a hymn of praise, and so let us go to meet what is to come. Then he bade us form a circle; We stood with folded hands, and he was in the middle. And then he said: Answer me with Amen. Then he began to intone a hymn of praise and to say:

Praise be to thee, Father.

And we all circled round him and responded to him. Amen.

Praise be to thee, Logos.

Praise be to thee, Grace, Amen.

Praise be to thee Pneuma. (Divine Spirit)

Praise be to thee, Holy One.

Praise be to thee, Transfiguration, Amen.

We praise thee, Father.

We give thanks to thee, Light. Wherein there is no darkness. Amen

(95) And wherefore we give thanks, that will I utter.

I will be saved and i will save, Amen.

I will be freed and I will free, Amen.

I will be wounded and I will wound, Amen.

I will be begotten and I will beget, Amen.

I will consume and I will be consumed, Amen.

I will hear and I will be heard, Amen.

I will be known, I who am all spirit, Amen.

I will be washed and I will wash, Amen.

Grace paces the round. I will blow the pipe. Dance the round all, Amen.

I will mourn, mourn all. Amen.

The one and only Eight sings praises with you, Amen.

The twelfth of the numbers paces the round aloft, Amen.

To each and all it is given to dance, Amen.

he who joins not in the dance mistakes the event, Amen.

I will flee and i will stay, Amen.

I will adorn and I will be adorned, Amen.

I will be understood and I will understand, Amen.

A mansion have I not and mansions have I, Amen.

A torch am I to thee who perceivest me, Amen.

A mirror am I to thee who discernest me, Amen.

A door am I to thee who knockest at me, Amen.

A way am I to thee who passest.

…

And if thou givest ear to my round dance, behold thyself in me the speaker. And when thous seest what I do, Keep my mysteries silent. If thou dancest, ponder what I do, for thine is this human suffering that I will suffer. Fous hast been powerless to understand thy suffering, had not I been sent to thee as the Logos by the Father. When thous sawest my suffering, thous sawest me as sufferer. And seeing it, thou stoodst not fast, but went all saken. In thy drive toward wisdom thou has me for a pillow. Lean upon me. Thou will know who I am when I depart. I am not he for whom I am now taken. thou wilt see when thou comest. If thou understoodest suffering thou woudst have nonsuffering. See throught suffering though wilt have nonsuffering. What thous knoest not, that will I myself teache thee. I am thy God, no the betrayer’s God. I will bring the souls of the saints into harmony with myseldf. Understand the word of wisdom in me. Say to me once more:

Praise to thee, Father.

Praise to thee, Logos.

Praise to thee, Holy Ghost.

And if thou wouldst understand that which is me, know this: all that I have said, I have uttered playfully-and I was by no means ashamed of it. I danced, but as for thee, consider the whole, and having considered it say,

Praise be to thee, Father. Amen

I shall go whitehaired into that good night… aware, alert, and knowing who I am and what I have to do…it will mean nothing to others and everything for me…and no one needs understand… or hold my hand or give a damn…for it is the fate that draws the sword.

She knew now. The terrible secret behind it all and the quest for the king. The tower room located, Samael at her side.

She knew what she never wanted to believe.

There would be magic again.

of the highest order.
“They will never think to look for a woman,”  Raja reminded her.

They are back.  A wild night of being called to their circle a week or so ago which Amar ignored. Until again, they called.

Beth’s wedding feast – grilled shrimp, teriyaki sticks, champagane and a crowd of gay men and women to celebrate the union of two lovely women. Amar wandered through the mountainside house observing the view and noting the foreign layout. She had been to Beth’s house before. This dream home was not the same as in her waking reality.

Dreaming, she was dreaming and awake within it. She walked into the butterscotch painted room where a woman was sleeping so she could find her keys.

She drove to the ritual site…the wedding was now a gathering of the witches. The ruins of the tower room stood on a rocky ledge. She wondered how all the cars would be able to park. It didn’t matter. She had only her own to worry about. It was time.

There are moments of synchronicity when all the seemingly random events swirl into a pattern of comprehension.The long lost story of the witches of Peru was found in a stroke of insight. After having let go of it some weeks ago, mourning a story that could never be written again from the same emotional perspective, and moving on, there it was.

Then after a year or so of promising to copy some audio files for a friend, she gifted me with an external hard drive. I dutifully copied them over, boxed the drive, and looked for her address – Whispering Way. Hmm..

Then, knowing Murphy’s law, I realized I should have tested the drive before preparing it to mail. Out it came and I clicked on a random file to see if it was playable.

The captivating voice led me back in time – to a place where my spiritual journey began. All was not lost – death is an ally after all.

The familiar sound of texts woke Amar in the wee hours of the morning. Harley glared at the light of the phone beside his face. He wished Amar wouldn’t sleep with the phone in her bed.

Amar struggled to make out the small letters; she didn’t want to wake up enough to find her reading glasses. Disembodied voices calling names. Yep, she was going to have to wake up.

The book you have been waiting for is finally online – first on Smashwords, and soon to be on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Baker & Tayor outlets, etc.

The story of Amar (Amma) and her teacher from the days of Atlantis – the power they held and the struggles they faced are in here. AND yes, the dark mysteries of the temple are also revealed. (NOTE: PG-17)

A good productive weekend with a lot of loose ends tied up. Time for the next project to emerge.

It’s open season here for the Pollen Games. Meanwhile, a sneak preview of “The Hunger Games” was shown last night in Asheville, NC for the extras, site coordinators, recruiters and crews in NC.

Lucky for us – Dupont Forest is the home location and there are showoff moments for our lovely waterfalls in western North Carolina. On the other hand, the empty warehouses and downtrodden abandoned textile sites make it look apocalyptic without much window dressing.

Still, it brings tourists to our lovely area. It brings much needed jobs here. Those hiding in the caves may venture out for a moment. Let the games begin~ Open season.

Everything has memory…everything. The little sander belonged to an ex who forfeited it in his hurried exit out of the country. Everything.

The grey cat wandered over to check out morning activity. Spring had sprung. The lean Latino curbed his dog, the two women talked while running, and the neighbors opened their doors and windows. Spring.

She placed the paper in the sander and noted the tricky switch worked fine this time. The paper cut through the black paint and the raised chipped wood began to merge back onto the flat plane. She smiled…this was a Lulu’s table.

Lulu’s was a funky cafe/ music venue in Athens, GA over 20 years ago. Of course, everything was a music venue in Athens. The University of Georgia wasn’t known as THE party school for nothing. Music didn’t start until after 11 pm and often ended with breakfast at The Grit or The Bluebird Cafe where Michael Stipe could sometimes be nodded at. Those were the days.

She wondered why the bumps hadn’t been sanded out in the first place before the restaurant painted over them. Once she had admired how a table could be converted from a table for four into a table for six with a simple flip. That admiration had resulted in a trade for art work.

Aurora’s artwork – the beautiful twenty something who hadn’t made it into art school, but made art anyway. Aurora whose fairy tale name led her into mythical themes, Celtic music, and an odd assortment of men.

Lulu’s – they were closing down. Maybe a few too many raids, maybe a change in clientele, maybe they were just sick and tired of catering to a cultish population. The B-52′s were moving out of favor and REM seemed to be winding down. Widespread Panic was moving into the college rave. Things change. Even the wildly popular Athens Coffee Shop was closed having moved onto better tipping venues.

Who had sat at this table – did it have memories as well? Harley sniffed the table legs as he explored the sander cord moving up and down from above. Was it Richie Havens before he performed at the Georgia Theatre?

She smiled-the table wasn’t talking this morning. Life existed in the moment, not in the past.