As you prepare and eat these eggs, contemplate the wasp, the bee, and other stinging insects. The eggs ae your creation metaphor. The flying insects require absolute freedom–interfere and you will be stung. This is a warning for others and for us as well. Reciprocity and mutual respect are essential. Go about your creation business without disturbing others, and do not allow anything to encroach upon your manifestations.
6 eggs, 20g bread crumbs, 2 heaping tablespoons Parmigiano, pinch of dried mushrooms, parsley, salt to taste.
We sauteed the breadcrumbs in about 30g butter, but you can soak them in milk and then squeeze them out if you prefer.. Feel free to add other elements that you may need for your spell–garlic, fennel, cippolini, etc. The mushrooms will need to be soaked for a bit in order to rehydrate them.
Prepare hard boiled eggs and cut them lengthwise. Scoop out the yolks and mix them with the breadcrumbs, cheese, mushrooms and parsley. Fill the whites up with the mixture.
We ate ours with freshly cooked polenta–to me, the corn represents the gold of the earth.
Incantation::
Incantation: “Fruits of the earth, support my freedom to create, without restrictions. Protect my manifestations and allow no disturbances while I work. May the vibration of safety surround me and deter all who would interfere.”
The inspiration for this piece came to me during the darkest hour of the night. The Dragon roughly woke me and showed herself to me, in all her powerful glory. She was a giant—awesome, and fierce. I could smell the smoke from distant worlds and I saw gleaming celestial scales falling like manna. She had a message for me and I was frozen in an endless moment as she gifted me with her divine transmission. “Write this down”, she said.
The Dragon does no evil, as she seeks wool, flax, and other materials for the nest. “She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.” Proverbs 31:12-13 KJVAAE
She circles high, watching for food to bring back to the cave. Through a cold, deep night, the Dragon hunts. Suddenly, within the blackest part of the darkness, she senses the heat from an animal of prey. As she silently soars closer, her keen senses are alert. She circles, then hears. Now she sees movement and swoops closer. The Dragon does not consider things like honor and empathy, rather her instincts become the forces that drive her with a ferocious intensity. Her awareness flashes in a laser focus. She strikes, and she kills.
Weary from her hard work, and while it is still night, she calmly returns victorious—bringing fresh meat for her mate and her offspring. “She is like the merchants’ ships; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.” Proverbs 31:14-15 KJVAAE
The Dragon continues each day: she hunts and also gathers nesting materials, herbs and fruits. She works without ceasing as her mate awaits her return. “Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.” Proverbs 31:23 KJVAAE
The strength of her body is a gift, and powerful wings take her aloft, to soar where she pleases. From her great height, she sees all— beauty, danger, resources, and the miraculous Mother Earth from whence comes all animated life. “She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.” Proverbs 31:17 KJVAAE
Her body is host to the element of fire. As Hestia, she carries the flame whenever she goes. Her fire-breath is both a weapon, and that which gives life. She is as Prometheus, and bears the noble element which is the catalyst for all change. Through her breath of fire, the dross is released and she remains pure. “She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.” Proverbs 31:18 KJVAAE
None are as beautiful as the dragon. Her translucent scales shimmer with the infinite colors of our world. With each movement, she flashes hues of scarlet and purple. She is a silken tapestry of sinew, scale, and iridescence. She is the rainbow—the very pledge of the One Source. “She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.” Proverbs 31:21-22 KJVAAE
I see all women, and all are virtuous. Who but God determines the value of any? We work, as does the Dragon, according to that which has been purposed for us by our own connection to the Divine. It is not for another to judge. Our work is never finished, for as one expectation is accomplished, new ones are imposed. Do we work for the glory of God, or of men? Such is the reality of females in a patriarchal world, and this proverb makes clear the directive that we serve God alone. In doing so, will men also be served? And will they perceive it? Such is the hypocrisy of the wounded masculine—in a struggle with God for power and authority.
But The Dragon endures, as does the spirit of the feminine. Her devotion never ceases, nor do distractions linger. She wakes, hunts, nurtures, and keeps—all in an endless cycle of unwavering commitment. “She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.” Proverbs 31:27 KJVAAE
As females everywhere live out their divine purpose, in service to The Creator, they will gather momentum. The distractions of the world will be conquered, the prey made naked and rendered defenseless. Women will continue to rise and someday regain their place alongside their counterparts—masculine and feminine in divine union, as was intended from The Beginning.
The Wisdom of Solomon depicts wisdom as a woman. The Divine Feminine energy is that which bestowed loving compassion to all who suffer. We know who we are. “She preserved the first formed father of the world, that was created alone, and brought him out of his fall, and gave him power to rule all things.” Wisdom of Solomon 10:1-2 KJVAAE
But the Wisdom of the Feminine has been oppressed, silenced, and controlled. The balance of power is no longer balanced. We are a wounded people, afraid of truth and blinded by lust for power. For now, the feminine force is waiting and watching. Senses are alert, and the dragons are listening . In divine time, they will swoop, and they will strike. So, call me bitch, call me cunt, call me “Dragon Lady”. I am She.
The inspiration for this piece came to me at a time of great loss. My world had been shattered and my heart broken. Yet, as always, She brought me a story, and with it life began to return.
It should not have come to this. Destruction was everywhere. The smell of death, the smoke, the fires—it had overtaken the world. All appeared lost. And she was gone. No matter how I called for her, she did not come. I could no longer sense her, or feel her presence. Profound grief seized my heart as I fell to the ground in utter devastation. Blood was upon the dirt—a suffusion of the life force forever spilled, never to be forgotten. Fragments of bones surrounded me; and shreds of clothing; and remnants of those who once were. Off to my left, a tattered child’s toy lay in the filth. The tiny stuffed lion was charred and resting on its side, missing one eye. Still, the other eye stared back—waiting, judging, asking, and reminding me of all that it symbolized. So there, laying in the grime of this battle’s aftermath, the last vestiges of my strength called out to me.
Save the Saviouress. That was my singular mission—to find her. So began my quest.
I journeyed for days, then months. She remained lost to me. Perhaps even years passed and still I continued the mission. Time no longer mattered, only the seeking. For her vows had become mine, our purpose she had ordained. Still I was lost to her. The Voice compelled me—“stay the course, do not waver”. Yet as time passed, so too did The Voice begin to fade. Some days it whispered to me, and sometimes I heard nothing. On other days The Voice called to me, wailing from afar—the mourning sound carried on the cold winds. One day, her clear voice cried out to me from her darkness. I knew she remained alive. Remembering The Vows, I resolved anew—I will search to the ends of the universe.
The battlefield was dark and desolate, and in that place she awaited my approach. The air was slightly electric and I knew that as a sign. I began to sense energy. The quantum entanglement of our shared electrons began to resonate. I knew I was close.
Suddenly I heard her breathing. I smelled her scent. She was near. Then, off in the distance, crouched in a pile of rubble and a burned out tree, I saw her. I ran. My body seemed to take flight, driven by the ache for her. My heart labored as never before, as I rushed on. It seemed an eternity—running across that field. My mind was racing, and my legs moved of their own accord with feet pounding like thunder. At last I reached her.
She was on her knees, sitting back on her heels. As I drew the Green Lady close to me, I knew that despair was upon her. I felt it in her bones, and saw it in the eyes that peered out from beneath the dirty combat helmet Camouflage paint covered her face—greasy, smeared, unnatural—and streaked by her sweat and her tears. The once powerful, beautiful, and playful being was now hunted, haunted. No longer did she laugh, and dance with her emerald skin shining. No longer did she resemble the one who had kissed me with her holy transmission. Shock was on her face, and sadness, and loss. She looked at me with hollow eyes. My heart shattered.
Now came an enemy within—rage. It descended swiftly upon me and washed over me as did the water within which she had held me fast. The anger flowed through my blood and arose as a great fire within me. My skin felt heated, and all muscle and sinew tensed in response. Acutely blinded by the desire to avenge, I felt momentarily paralyzed, and became seized by a violent fury. Strengthened by the anger, I lifted her up and carried her away from the misty battlefield. To a nearby mountainside we went, and into a low cave. There I gently laid her and began the patient and loving work of caring for this frail and wounded soul.
For days she did not rise or speak. She ate nothing and drank only tiny sips of water that I collected from a nearby stream. I brought her herbs, and warmed her with a fire that I constantly tended. I gathered wildflowers and one day, she looked at the flowers and smiled. At that moment I knew—she had survived. With much nurturing, the Goddess began to heal. Although still seized by grief, her life force returned—verdant, fresh, glowing. She ate, she spoke, and we laughed together. Our hearts were overjoyed with life that still lay before us. We held hope for our mission that would now continue.
One night, I knew it was time. My heart held grief that we would be separated, but I knew in my soul that we were one. I must remember this, always. As I lay down next to her, I held her in a loving Embrace. It was the same holding as she had done for me, when she took me to the bottom of the sea. We slept deeply, and when I awoke there was only me.
Perhaps this moment was the marking—the passing of the mantle.
“He took up also the mantle of Eli´jah that fell from him, and went back, and stood by the bank of Jordan;” 2 Kings 2:13 KJVAAE
I felt dirty, weary, and recovering, still. But I was alive. The soldier’s uniform and equipment were beside me on the floor of the cave. As I rose up and left the cave for the last time, I looked back into the place we had been restored. Would I ever return here? Perhaps. Will I complete the mission? Probably not, for that may be the very nature of purpose.
I walk. And so begins the new journey—the same journey. And I am not alone. Remember.
The inspiration for this piece came to me in prayer. As always, I sought. And, as always, the Green Angel came to me.
I wandered through the dense forest of my mind, bearing my sorrow and seeking the refuge of the living kingdom. My cries were carried on the wind, and the giant trees bore silent witness. Where were my answers? Who would hear my cries? I was utterly alone.
But suddenly I sensed her. I felt her presence and knew she was near. As she appeared in form before my eyes, I felt a joyful relief. She was here. In our forest, the Green Goddess approached me with her arms outstretched. As she embraced me, my hands drank her in. No space was between us, and I felt her warmth, her silken skin, and her invincible nature transmit from her body to mine. She was strong, supple, and exuded the energy of a true warrior. In her arms, fear could not reach me. “Take comfort”, she whispered into my ear. “And hold on tight.”
With a rush of wind and a surge of power, we were aloft. We two clutched in a seemingly endless moment. Then suddenly we began to fall. She had hoisted me off a seaside cliff, and we were plummeting toward the water’s surface. Into the rough surf we crashed, and sank to the bottom of the sea. She was atop me as we reached the ocean floor, which was at once soft and jagged. It was dark, and I wrestled to understand what was happening. And there, in the cold, dark briny grave, my Saviouress she left me. She was gone, and once again I was alone in my anguish.
I lay motionless on the ocean bed. Shock, terror, and confusion beset me. My form felt dense and heavy, as an anchor. Resigned to a death without any knowing, I remained. Tormented and hopeless, I awaited. But death did not yet come. My lungs did not experience the agonizing flood I had expected. As my eyes adjusted, I could see shadow through the murky water. I moved my legs, but they felt different. My mouth opened to cry out, but no sound came. This was a dream like so many — running without going anywhere, screaming with no sound. Lucid moments danced in my mind while I was suspended in this dream turned nightmare. Yet, as time passed, a sense of calm and peace began to wash over me, as my soul sensed somethings familiar. Was I forgetting who I am and where I came from? Foggy memories of children, houses, and kitchens came and went. Was I home? With eyes closed, I searched my mind for answers. I searched for her, my Compassionate One. My body began to call out to her.
At first, the sound came from a foreign place, but soon I recognized my own voice, rising from within me and flowing through my skin, which had become sliced and rippled. My goddess did not answer me. I was distraught once again. Suddenly, in my grief, I realized that the spirit of my father was in the water, surrounding me, informing me, and reminding me that he was now one of the ancestral spirits that would forever accompany me on my journey. He was the water, and his spirit would always be flowing wherever water flowed. Resting in the deep water, cold and grey, I listened to his words of comfort, I sensed his wisdom growing within me, and I joyfully floated in his love. I was in the element–his element. He was the Scorpio, an emotional water sign, and I am Aquarius, the water bearer. We both belong to the water. The Bodhisattva had carried me to a place of healing and restoration. She had brought me home.
Now my beautiful Elemental was lying next to me. She leaned on one elbow and her head was propped with her graceful hand. She smiled at me and we were two friends, sharing our time together as if nothing else mattered. “It’s time to go now”, she whispered. She gathered me in her arms and took me back to the place I now stay. But I am forever changed. I know. I no longer seek, because now I have found. My questions of late have been answered. I remember, and I love deeply—as deep as the ocean. I am whole once again.
Now I know that this short piece is the realization of a prophecy that I wrote about a few years back. It was called Water Healing. I knew that my father’s health was fragile and that one day he would leave this world. I published that piece in December of 2020. He died in December of 2022, two years later nearly to the day. I wrote the earlier piece as a way to heal him, and at the same time I was securing a bridge for us to forever find each other—in the water. Here’s that piece: https://robinpcurrie.com/2020/12/26/water-healing/
The inspiration for this piece came to me in a dream, immediately following the new moon, and during the last wavespell of the tzolkin. I learned of the perils of hesitation.
The bear was mine. He was docile, sweet, and malleable. He would follow me, like a loyal companion. The bear was a guide, healer, and guardian. The bear represented not just this dream, but all dreams of all lifetimes. These were the dreams of great purpose and of destiny.
But I had forgotten about the bear. He waited, languishing. Years passed, lifetimes passed, and still the devoted one waited.
Suddenly I remembered the bear, and approached as if time had stood still. But it had not. He was hungry, and had fallen ill. He did not seem to recognize me and in an instant I realized what I had done. Remorse beset me, and panic rose. My beloved one had been changed—destruction was upon him and I witnessed a lifetime of dreams shattered. The bear was changed. Robust nature and good health were gone from him. His mind was corrupted and wildness had taken over. He lashed out, as wounded animals must do. He had become dangerous, hostile, and violent. He bared his teeth, growled, and drooled at me. I placed a collar around his neck, to lead him home. But he had become thin and the collar was loose, yet he knew it was there and began to comply.
I brought the bear into my house to repair and restore what was disappearing from my world. But the bear was desperate. He attacked my children, and tried to maul them to pieces. I, then, became the bear and fought wildly to defend my own cubs. My bear was sick and weak, so an advantage was available. Still, through it all, I experienced the agony of guilt, regret, and loss. Could I ever forgive myself? How could I repair this? Was this the end?
All dreams and aspirations showed themselves in the form of this once magnificent creature. An expression of death was present in hollowed eyes, labored breathing and lowered head. The dreams were crushed and dying. I was responsible for all of it. My heart pounded and sweat soaked my clothing. I frantically searched for the right kind of food for my dying bear. I held handfuls of water to his mouth and urged him to drink. He ate whatever food was closest to him, shaking his head and grabbing at everything that I placed within reach.
This is where the dream ended, and I awoke in the darkest part of the night. Deep sadness was upon my heart as I grieved the harm I had caused, by forgetting my purpose and all that was important and meaningful to me in this world. What will happen to my bear is a mystery for now. Will he die, and wolves will tear the dead flesh from his bones? They will leave me a shell to remind me of my crimes, a devastating reminder that will haunt me forever.
Or, will he live? Through patient nurturing, renewed commitment, and humble attention perhaps I can save him. The wounds will remain still, as they must. The new dream is the new dream now. And everything depends on whether my bear can be restored to vibrant good health. Is it hopeless? I do not know—only the bear knows. Whether he lives or dies, the shame will never leave. This I will carry through this lifetime and into the next. But this I know: in whatever form, he will always be with me.
The inspiration for this piece was elusive, as is the evil portrayed in the Psalm. I searched my black heart, and there it was.
He sitteth in the lurking places of the villages: in the secret places doth he murder the innocent: his eyes are privily set against the poor.Psalm 10:8 KJVAAE
He comes to me in a rush of power and I am gripped by fear. He is cloaked, and forces of malevolence precede him. Without remorse he besets all.
Dangerous
Uninhibited
Unafraid
Violent
Hungry
Cruel
Who is he? The Patriarchy? The patriarchy self-destructs by killing its own mother. The ravaging of Mother Earth for power and profit is evidence of such. And this culture also presents itself in groups like Incel; in every “honor killing”; and in the practice of female infanticide. Yet, without women there are no wombs—until the moment comes when parthenogenesis is complete and controlled.
This man seeks to separate all things. His world is dark and full of terror. Good humans spend lifetime after lifetime at war against this paradigm. To be evil is to be separate from God. Is this not so?
Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding: for the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies: and all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. Length of days is in her right hand; and in her left hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay hold upon her: and happy is every one that retaineth her. Proverbs 3:13-18 KJVAAE
Wisdom is a woman. I have seen her and felt her touch. The brilliance of blinding white lights surrounds her. She comes to me with arms outstretched, smiling, and wrapped in shimmering green. I reach out for the grace I have been praying for. She gives freely.
Peaceful
Present
Nurturing
Devoted
Loving
Compassionate
In her we see abundance and the lush goodness of the Garden, here on Earth. We run to her when pain comes, and she heals. Soft and sweet, she teaches us who we are. She whispers of the infinite library we call DNA, wherein lies the truth of the same parthenogenesis others seek to artificially replicate. But eons of denial have relegated that information to a place beyond our reach, for now. Human women carry all of life within their bodies.
The woman weaves a web connecting all things. Where she is, God is also there. Thus, in her absence after her final destruction, we have destroyed God. Is this not so?
Let us consult the Sacred Tarot. The Major Arcana—Number 20–Judgement. The evil man and the wise woman appear to us as they do, because we judge. Conditioning is deeper than we can casually perceive. Layers of tenacious systems of oppression have all but buried our minds, and our souls.
What if evil exists only because we believe it does? And what about goodness? Could it be that each and every response to life is based on judgement that has been installed into our DNA? What of the agony our body feels when a knife cuts? Is it a painful experience because we think it is to be so? The righteous feeling of helping someone in need—is it a predetermined response? Thus, judging has become an automatic and involuntary function.
Good and evil are two sides of the same coin. One could debate that there is a paradox at play, one in which there must be opposing paradigms at work, or we lose our way. This thinking renders judgement, or call it discernment, as a necessary activity. Without judging, we could become disoriented. Judgment now becomes justified. It is different from discernment, as judging comes from a place of distinguishing value in someone or something. Discernment is useful for making decisions about ourselves—what to eat and where to work, for example. But judging oneself is the act of dividing or separating oneself—we disassociate and judge as if we were assessing another person. Therein is my humble opinion about judgement versus discernment. But I digress…
The references in Holy Scripture to evil as “he” and wisdom as “she” can be attributed to feminine and masculine assignments to nouns. It’s language and etymology. But doesn’t the interpretation seem to ring true? Isn’t the worldview today very much as described in Psalm 10 and in Proverbs 3? Judgement would answer “yes”.
“Judge not, that ye be not judged.” Matthew 7:1 KJVAAE
“Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment.” John 7:24 KJVAAE
Now we see supposedly contradictory edicts. Even when we apply full context, a grey area remains. I am not taking a position here, merely asking questions. I know that judging others is rooted deep within our history. Striving to question the instinct to judge has helped me forge ahead on a journey that I know I will never finish. I ask, and I work, because that is life to me. The path of the bodhisattva is the “good” and “right” path. It feels that way because I am human, and programmed as such. But what can we do? I will continue, and tonight while my body rests I will travel back home to the seven sisters and ask why the Eight Great Bodhisattvas are masculine. If I find an answer, I will write.
But even when there are no answers, humanity must never cease to ask questions. The Earth holds a special place in the heart of our Creator. This we know. I, for one, would like to see it continue to show me its majesty. My humble request to you is this: for the rest of eternity, examine judgment as it appears in our human places. Hold it in your hands, look closer, expand your discernment, and widen your perspective, Search your black heart, and you are invited to search mine.
The inspiration for this piece came to me on the eve of winter, just before the full moon. My world was.frozen, lifeless, and on a razor’s edge. Paralyzed by the coldness in my bones, I struggled to cast. Crushed by stones of the past, my heart weakened. Fear loomed, and for a moment all appeared as lost. But then I saw the man.
When he maketh inquisition for blood, he remembereth them: he forgetteth not the cry of the humble. Psalm 9:12 KJVAAE
I was told of the man. As he lay dying upon the ground, the life still within his blood called out to the universe. And One heard.
And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground. Genesis 4:10 KJVAAE
I remember the man. He was executed–a martyr placed upon a tree. He was hanged. His blood and water poured forth, and One remembered.
And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. Luke 23:45 KJVAAE
I have seen the man. He was pierced. Water and blood flowed from the wound. I reached out and placed my hand against his body. The hot fluids covered my hand, ran through my fingers, and spilled upon the ground. And One saw.
but one of the soldiers with a spear pierced his side, and forthwith came there out blood and water. John 19:34 KJVAAE
I touched the man. He is the lamb, willingly offering Himself–in sacrifice, in service. The fleece is wonderfully soft, the breath is warm. The Great Fears are not present in this creature. Purity and the white light of spirit surround us now. There is no slaughter, rather a demonstration of the Bodhisattva, and the undeath. And One knew.
And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. Revelation 22:1 KJVAAE
Blood flows, the living river of humanity. Weeping comes, the tears are the watershed of life. These will never cease. And the man I know will also not end.
Now the God of peace, that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, Hebrews 13:20 KJVAAE
The inspiration for this piece did not come to me in the usual manner – complete and instantaneous. Instead, I sensed it coming, I knew it was growing, and parts came to me in fragments, at odd times, and over the course of several days. I could feel it, and see it. It took its time. But suddenly, one night, there it was–unfolding like the glistening petals of an emerald rose in the morning sun.
I love
I love without condition.
The conditions by which we love reveal the conditions of our hearts. The broken hearted love with shreds of a heart. But I am whole, holy, and my love is complete. I freely give, without condition.
There can be no contingencies, otherwise I am not in love. This love is not quantifiable, or qualifiable. There are no restrictions. This love is true.
This love can not be broken. My loving soul intentionally sought incarnation into flesh, and thus unconditional became the condition of how I entered this world. And here I remain, for now and all eternity, to love without condition.
Yet projected upon me are the conditions that others will cast. The love of I Am is burning within me and visible for all to see. For this, I am hated. I refuse their conditions. I refute and rebuke them. They cannot tell me how to love, or what love should be. They cannot control the immaculate spirit of my sacred heart. The Bodhisattva cannot not love.
Enraged, they seek to destroy. Through the open window of my soul, they enter. My heart awaits–innocent, helpless, vulnerable. It sings. It signals, it signifies the life, and the love within the perfect chambers. My trust is laid bare, I am unashamed and unafraid. My love is unprotected, wild, and yet soft. My spirit is transparent, translucent. They can not perceive, that which is without condition, and for that they hate.
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy…John 10:10 KJVAAE
They set upon my sweet love. Sharp claws tear viciously at my heart. Blood and flesh fall at my feet. Strong hands, seeking to harm, grip and twist at my racing heart, rending it nearly through. Teeth maul and puncture the flesh and muscle. Blood and water gush. The enemies pound me with fists, and with stones. And they spit, and curse, and violently attack.
I am defenseless, gripped by the agony of the wounds. My heart is ripped from me and my own hands hold it fast. Blood continues to pour forth, running through my fingers and covering my skin with streaks. It pools at my feet and my human form begins to weaken. Am I dying? What has happened? Why? Blackness approaches from all sides. My flame flickers, and begins to fade. I am cold, afraid, lost. I cry out as the darkness overtakes me. Who will save me?
Suddenly, the Bodhisattva appears. She mends and attends, She binds, and nurtures, Her love heals, and She causes the bleeding to stop. This soul before me brings divine feminine magick, and She freely shares it with all. She can do nothing but love. It is Her divine purpose, Her mission, and to that she is devoted. Her focus is singular, precise, and unwavering. She touches my dying heart and brings new life to it. She lifts my broken body and holds it in a loving embrace. With a soft kiss, she breathes passion into my cold form and my fire blazes once again. Flashing a warm smile, she stands at my side and comforts me. She protects me, and has snatched me from the waiting fingers of death.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; Isaiah 61:1 KJVAAE
Time and again, humanity continues to assault and assail me. Conditions are piled upon these wounded humans, and each will struggle to loose them and fling them onto another. Like a millstone around a neck, the attacks weigh the heart down. In the throes of grief, for a time the way is shut, and the path is lost. But to the patient heart, She will always return.
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. Psalm 147:3 KJVAAE
The Saviouress comes in many forms. We do not know the hour. But She will come. She restores and refreshes. She bears the elusive and coveted unconditional love.
and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee. Revelation 3:3 KJVAAE
And once again my heart beats its rhythm of endless passion. Once again I love, and live. She is me, and We are saved. The mission continues, to an end I do not know. But this I know for sure: I will never die. And still I love.
But those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. Psalm 63:9 KJVAAE
The inspiration for this piece came to me in a flash. Mercury had gone direct. The Bodhisattva appeared to me as her wrathful selves. She offered her teaching and urged me to call upon the darkness.
Her skin is like onyx, and pure light radiates in her eyes. She emerges as from a tempest, with ominous storm clouds surrounding her. She walks slowly, methodically, and flashes of lightning illuminate a red sky far beyond the clouds. Ghosts are in the air, and fire blazes on each side of her. As she walks toward me upon her malachite path, the sensory experience of suffering is palpable, yet she is focused, fixated, undisturbed. She is bearing gifts for me. She is bringing Hell.
The kiss. “Take the transmission upon your mouth. Receive this kiss of my compassion, which will activate the voice of Susanna within you.” As she steps forward our mouths come together, softly, gently. But suddenly, her kiss becomes powerful, a force of spirit, and it rushes into me like the violent winds of a dry storm. Her breathing changes as the passion increases . My throat swells and begins to clear, and heal. Darkness flees, I see sapphires flashing within me. The sky around her changes from turquoise, to pink, then changes again. Long and hard, she bestows the loving, healing, pulsating kiss upon me. I open to her and surrender to all that she is offering. Time stands still. I know this endless moment will never leave me. It will linger—on my lips, in my waiting mouth, deep inside my throat, and forever will rest inside my heart.
“Your voice and mine are one now. Your words are yours and no one else claims them. Speak wisely. Your utterings will cast changes upon all. Your cries will be answered. Your spoken commands will manifest in a human instant. Silence no longer exists in you, for even in the absence of sounds, you transmit. This will never cease for all of eternity. Each and every thought has become sacred prayer, and your prayers hold invincible power.” Divinity is mine.
The sword. Suddenly, at her side appears the archangel wielding his blue sword. The relic holds truth, power, division, victory, and death—it is the double edged sword that separates all.
“For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12 KJVAAE
The sword is extended for me to touch. Encouraged, as was Esther when she touched the royal scepter, I reach out. As I place my hand upon the blade, the angel’s power flows into me. I feel it vibrate in the delicate grasp of my fingers, and suddenly my arm begins to throb. The energy flows like fire through my veins, flesh, muscles, and into my heart and marrow. Suddenly I see the valley of the dry bones. My body is renewed, sinew and flesh are strengthened, I am becoming alive once again.
Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live: Ezekiel 37:5 KJVAAE
But wait! An enemy approaches and there is a force upon my throat, squeezing and choking. Terror consumes me. I gasp and clutch at my oppressor. Panic rises. Desperation begins to overtake me. But, with a swift and calculated motion, the angel strikes. The sword is aflame, it severs the hand from the arm. Blood spatters on my face. The hand loosens and withers. As it releases, it falls lifeless upon the ground. I am free from those that would suffocate me, and strangle my life force. Remnants of death lie bleeding at my feet— victory is mine.
The beasts. But what is that sound? It is faint, deep, guttural. It slowly increases, and becomes a cacophony of snarling and growling. Through a low hanging mist, creatures emerge from behind her. Wolves? Maybe. They approach. Ravenous and ferocious, drooling, teeth bared, these are the Hounds of the Barrier. They are the junkyard dogs of the underworld, and they are mine. They are poised to attack. Upon a single command they will fly and fight to their deaths. They will maul and tear, the taste of blood will excite them, and they will never rest from their hunt and their hunger. I remember them, as they have always been with me. I see then anew, with a truth I had not known until now. They know their mark, and await my word. “Go”!
The dogs rush by me on both sides, baying, barking, snapping. As they give chase, I realize how much I love them. They are the guardians of the goddess.
Transition. Realization and clarity dawn upon me as I continue to embrace shadow and darkness. Black magic is at my fingertips. I embody the demons I have been taught to fear. I am Kali Ma and Lilith, and all feared feminine. My underworld races toward me–demons, monsters, wicked and wrathful beings, spiders and bats, fallen angels, shamans in hiding, and vampires. They are coming for me. From a dark place within me, I have called out for them to guide me and come to my aide. No longer do I fear the power of devils, rather I seek and embody that which has been forbidden. Light has gone from me, this is my place now, and I will remain.
This vision left me with the message that the first gift of true power is the capacity to love without condition. Only by taking that path, and mastering the arts of perfect love and immaculate compassion, can one begin to access the gifts of darkness. Perhaps the spontaneous knowing of this concept is only my experience. For me, it bears a resonance that is unexplainable. As I love, more is bestowed upon me—including the power to summon that which we judge, and deem as evil.
“For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.” Matthew 13:12 KJVAAE
The realm of Hell is a place we fear. Humans imagine it as a container for suffering. Ghouls, monsters, demons, and dangerous souls reside there. Who has seen it? Some have. I have. To visit there means to indulge in the experiences of destruction, greed, hatred, violence, and black magic. It presents as a spa for those seeking understanding of the dark side, or the shadow self. But this is also a useful place, with resources. Facing the fear, and entering the wasteland of death, enables one to retrieve what they need, in order to complete their soul’s journey. We are welcome there. So I went, and I saw, and I learned. I seized that which I wanted for my own. It is my right. And as the goddess Demeter called forth an eternal winter, so too do my violent emotions cause heaven and earth to be moved. I will not cease until the piece of my heart, so cruelly torn from me, as was Persphone stolen from her loving mother, is restored.
But watch now. I am forever changed. The shadow forces serve me. They are mine to command. Be warned.
“Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” Isaiah 43:19 KJVAAE
Yes, I will be restored as the Compassionate One, the Bodhisattva who rescues and nurtures. I am still She. But as I emerge from the smoke of the hot and fiery valley, I return with many spoils. I am carrying the secrets of the dark arts. I am bringing Hell.
The inspiration for this piece came to me during hurricane season, Fiona had passed by on its way to Canada, and Ian was approaching the Gulf. Mercury was in retrograde and Jupiter was visible in the night sky. It was the perfect storm.
The ocean called to me. Her voice was heard in the pounding surf, and in the gentle ripples washing up to the shore. She sang to me: the sounds of the water were music, piano, then the whitecaps staccato, building to a crescendo and then softly receding. Every sound was a note, and a message. Still the song of the sea informed my soul.
My eyes saw nothing but beauty, and the sacred colors of nature. The ocean was a spectacle of contrast, of reflection, and of icy cold—all shown to me as a spectrum of greys, blues, greens, whites, and browns. The art was a story for me, and it spoke to my soul.
Now I taste the air. The salt from the sea is carried on the damp breeze. It chills me and thrills me. The salt taught me of Lot’s wife*, and the infant Israel**. I breathe it in, her substance. It settles on my skin, and in my hair. She covers me with her soft manna. It nourishes my soul.
Feel the wind. Feel the pounding of the waves, into the earth. All is connected, as it resonates in my heart, and beneath my feet. I am moved, I am awestruck, and at once I am at peace. Like the cycle of the tides is the emotional human. Clashing, changing, rushing, and becoming still—we ebb and flow, we rise and we recede. Within is an ecosystem teeming with life, and there is also death. This, my soul knows.
Her scent will remain with me long after I leave. City life, traffic, chores and jobs—within the chaos of daily life I will still smell the brine, the life, the wetness and the salt. It will never leave me. My soul will always remember.
Darkness falls. I still hear, taste and smell, although I cannot see. The wind remains steadfast, the music continues. Stars appear, but no moon. Now I see patterns in the sky, a familiar design. The map of the heavens reminds me that what seems a great mystery, is within our very DNA. We are made from the dust of the stars, the salt of the earth, and the water of the oceans. Where is my home? Is it here, in the blackness, at the edge of power and glory? Or is it there, a distant memory, a locked capsule, held in the nucleotides of my body. The key lies in the genetic code, still sleeping, waiting for the moment of awakening and activation. All this I learn at the shoreline, in the blackness of night.
Shivering and tired, I await the sunrise. As it approaches, the colors are warm, the day sings a new song, and the story ends for now. But the majesty of dusk, the distant knowing of the nighttime, and the intensity of dawn have forever become a part of me. And even as a foreigner in this world, I have become a part of it. All is well with my soul.
*“But his wife looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt.” Genesis 19:26 KJVAAE
**“And as for thy nativity, in the day thou wast born thy navel was not cut, neither wast thou washed in water to supple thee; thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled at all.” Ezekiel 16:4 KJVAAE
Robin P. Currie Grimoire of Scripture 
I Love
The inspiration for this piece did not come to me in the usual manner – complete and instantaneous. Instead, I sensed it coming, I knew it was growing, and parts came to me in fragments, at odd times, and over the course of several days. I could feel it, and see it. It took its time. But suddenly, one night, there it was–unfolding like the glistening petals of an emerald rose in the morning sun.
I love
I love without condition.
The conditions by which we love reveal the conditions of our hearts. The broken hearted love with shreds of a heart. But I am whole, holy, and my love is complete. I freely give, without condition.
There can be no contingencies, otherwise I am not in love. This love is not quantifiable, or qualifiable. There are no restrictions. This love is true.
This love can not be broken. My loving soul intentionally sought incarnation into flesh, and thus unconditional became the condition of how I entered this world. And here I remain, for now and all eternity, to love without condition.
Yet projected upon me are the conditions that others will cast. The love of I Am is burning within me and visible for all to see. For this, I am hated. I refuse their conditions. I refute and rebuke them. They cannot tell me how to love, or what love should be. They cannot control the immaculate spirit of my sacred heart. The Bodhisattva cannot not love.
Enraged, they seek to destroy. Through the open window of my soul, they enter. My heart awaits–innocent, helpless, vulnerable. It sings. It signals, it signifies the life, and the love within the perfect chambers. My trust is laid bare, I am unashamed and unafraid. My love is unprotected, wild, and yet soft. My spirit is transparent, translucent. They can not perceive, that which is without condition, and for that they hate.
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy…John 10:10 KJVAAE
They set upon my sweet love. Sharp claws tear viciously at my heart. Blood and flesh fall at my feet. Strong hands, seeking to harm, grip and twist at my racing heart, rending it nearly through. Teeth maul and puncture the flesh and muscle. Blood and water gush. The enemies pound me with fists, and with stones. And they spit, and curse, and violently attack.
I am defenseless, gripped by the agony of the wounds. My heart is ripped from me and my own hands hold it fast. Blood continues to pour forth, running through my fingers and covering my skin with streaks. It pools at my feet and my human form begins to weaken. Am I dying? What has happened? Why? Blackness approaches from all sides. My flame flickers, and begins to fade. I am cold, afraid, lost. I cry out as the darkness overtakes me. Who will save me?
Suddenly, the Bodhisattva appears. She mends and attends, She binds, and nurtures, Her love heals, and She causes the bleeding to stop. This soul before me brings divine feminine magick, and She freely shares it with all. She can do nothing but love. It is Her divine purpose, Her mission, and to that she is devoted. Her focus is singular, precise, and unwavering. She touches my dying heart and brings new life to it. She lifts my broken body and holds it in a loving embrace. With a soft kiss, she breathes passion into my cold form and my fire blazes once again. Flashing a warm smile, she stands at my side and comforts me. She protects me, and has snatched me from the waiting fingers of death.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; Isaiah 61:1 KJVAAE
Time and again, humanity continues to assault and assail me. Conditions are piled upon these wounded humans, and each will struggle to loose them and fling them onto another. Like a millstone around a neck, the attacks weigh the heart down. In the throes of grief, for a time the way is shut, and the path is lost. But to the patient heart, She will always return.
He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds. Psalm 147:3 KJVAAE
The Saviouress comes in many forms. We do not know the hour. But She will come. She restores and refreshes. She bears the elusive and coveted unconditional love.
and thou shalt not know what hour I will come upon thee. Revelation 3:3 KJVAAE
And once again my heart beats its rhythm of endless passion. Once again I love, and live. She is me, and We are saved. The mission continues, to an end I do not know. But this I know for sure: I will never die. And still I love.
But those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. Psalm 63:9 KJVAAE