 |
| Traci Bingham naked in boots!!!! |
 |
| Pamela Anderson... |
I.
"You don't grow old you grow old not growing." a spirit told me once in the long ago when I was suspended between the worlds. - Dawn Wolf, Keeper of Stories
II.
"Death is the final stage of growth. The seed dies to bring the plant." was one of the deeper teachings Old Man gave me in our years together. Those teachings did not come to me from him as if he was a drop of water and I, the mouth gaped wide beneath the faucet. We were a process where his harshness jarred my senses, his examples sheared away the layers of sleep with awareness of time as a non-consequential point of reference, and the space between consciousness, and magic were narrowing my perceptions into formlessness that kept me in a state of learning, and hunting. Our way was the old way of Grandfather and Grandson, Teacher and Student, Master and pupil.
This tutelage opened me up to the places I was familiar with before and during my childhood. You see my dilemma was one of relevance, and I was not relevant as a young man. The obsessions and preoccupations of my peers were curiosities to me. I gazed at what held them transfixed fascinated, but untouched, or enamored as they were with the things they worked hard for. Looking for and finding work stirred the deepest sorrows within me. What I was born for had no place in the time I needed to feed my family. So, I learned to shift and change myself into a body of energy that appealed to whomever needed to be impressed enough by me to hire me. It worked to the degree that I had food, fire, shelter, raiment and water. It was enough! We did not die, nor were we wet in the rain. Our stomachs did not rumble us to sleep, and the fire did not go out. For that I was grateful.
We lived next to forests deep and wide. I was grateful. My teachers lived in those forests, and I learned, developed and arranged myself into the mists of dawn, the intergalactic exchanges of twilight, the internal dialogues of night time, and the surprises of daylight! What that means is not simple, yet it is simple.
 |
| Olivia sitting in grass with a basket of fruit naked is telling a story we can deny, but live out in contradictions and conformations of the truth of the story she is telling in her stillness. - Gregory E. Woods 11.15.13 |
III.
"True priesthood and true mastery is maintaining a level of divinity at a constant on." I learned from Saarifaa Saa, an African priestess from Georgia, in my long ago. In our relationship Saarifaa Saa was the elder who taught me from the inner circles of the Women's Womb teachings. I don't know how to speak of those times without the naïveté I held and the naïveté left within me after those times passed. What I can convey about that lifetime is expressed in my living, and my perception, and how I am perceived the way a story is in its being, its context. - Gregory E. Woods 11.15.13
 |
| actress Elizabeth Berkley More Elizabeth Berkley pictures |
IV.
Finding a woman and being found by a woman are not the same thing. Being available and ready for the woman you need is the third teacher of a man's spirit. These three are teachers. You have to see them as teachers, not adversaries, or adversarial warriors assailing your soul. My covenant brother Rev. Jon Chandler during those times of meeting and associating with those three teachers told me, "You have to become vulnerable to her to be a strength to her."
I had to learn which one of the three teachers this wisdom was applicable to, and what part of me would be accessible to the inevitable changes each teacher would bring to me. It proved to be a process each teacher put me through. In the end it turned out to be the Coyote tricking me into a life away from mere existence into a life steered by the first and the second teacher into the presence of the third teacher who became the wife I have now.
"The Coyote is the Gentle Trickster. He is all those things that trick us into learning..." I read somewhere. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 11.14.13
No comments:
Post a Comment