CHAPTER 1
Black on white. Ink spills onto the page. In characters that dance tothe drums of ancient beats. There are no blank pages. Only knowledge thatawaits a conduit through which its truth can emerge; undiluted and pure.Straight from the source of the universal that.
You see these pages are clearly spoken for.
Ease yourself into the scriptures. You may experience contractionblisters before you can cultivate a connection to the expansion of unlimitedpossibilities within the vessel of your own being. Just like a new pair ofshoes that need to be broken in.
Ardent Starlet
Where shall I start this tale of love and discovery? A story where theprimal, lustful flesh merges with the adolescent mind to collaborate in theforging of a new self.
Let me start where every good party eventually ends up: in the kitchen.So here I am. Forty something and hunched over the dirty dishes. Keepingmy focus on looking sexy even while engrossed in this mundane task.Lately, for some peculiar reason this desire to look attractive seemsoverly important.
Don't get me wrong. I am not that shallow. I have depth that is nottaught pressing a school bench. I know to be substantial, you have to thinksubstantial. So I think sexy, in a real substantial way, in the hopes that Ican turn back the hands of time.
The other day, a close friend shared an epiphany as he nimbly climbedthe podium and proclaimed, "I went from feeling blessed to feeling guided." Ithought, "What a lucky fellow. Couldn't we all use a little guidance? Wouldn'tit be so much easier to lay our load of responsibilities into someone else'slap as we announce: Why are you judging me? I was guided by a higherenergy to take these actions."
Some lunar cycles later
My experientially obsessed life is not unlike the melody of your flutewhose sound joyfully arises for no other reason but to give birth to aresonance of truth.
I feel no pressure to be anywhere and bask in the sweet solitude ofsurrender. On top of that pinnacle I reside with my thoughts. Pen drawn,words my ammunition of choice, and the colloquy starts to arrive. Acascading stream of consciousness filters through me from a source thatis vast and unmapped.
There is a longing in all of us for answers that bring substance to ourjourney. Here is what I have come to know. I anticipate my uncensoredthoughts will send you into an intergalactic spin.
This sphere shall not continue to exist as you know it. Neither will theother two spheres of Dream and Twitch. The following declarations laywitness to impending changes.
Behold the woman that I am
Let us prepare for what is to come. What an intriguing concept. Even ifyou anticipate the unexpected, the rap of life will make you dance beyondthe boundaries of your limited self. There was a time I thought myself wellprepared. Every morning I told the universe to bring it on. I was about tolearn the most profound lesson ever.
It was in the land of Twitch, where in a blink of an eye, I encounteredthe grand scheme of the Goddess. Albeit during the occurrence of thiscatalytic shift I had no awareness of the huge commotion that was gainingmomentum. Rolling stones gather no moss; neither did I.
At the tail end of a long day a nagging gut feeling had me pressedagainst the ledge of a steep precipice. My soul, all knowing and wise,gathered a few things: A rainbow coloured parachute, a sheath woven fromlove vibrations, a working pair of ruby slippers.
Advertisement Insert: Every intergalactic princess needs some snazzyfootwear. Instructions on the bottom read, "When in need of emergencyevacuation back to home front, simply click heels three times and recitethe incantation: there is no place like home." A handy accessory one shouldnot leave home without.
I was totally oblivious to the fact that shortly my heartstrings would beplayed like a Spanish flamenco guitar. Admission of Ms. Starlet, universalsurfer, "When it comes down to the circumstantialities of the unfolding, I amadequately unprepared." It appears I also live a life filled with ambiguity.
So there I was stretched out under my duvet cover and ready to makesweet love to my pillow, with full anticipation awaiting my rejuvenatingforty winks for the night.
Have you ever been there? On the brink of slumber, when a sensationof falling yanks you back to consciousness? Usually this spasmodic ticonly thrusts you for the briefest moment to wakefulness before you arecatapulted past the twitch into your dreams; portalled from one dimensionto the next in a blink of an eye.
Tonight, I was in for ample surprises as the scenario played out like atwisted fairy tale. The grand adventure was even equipped with a uniquePrince Charming. I entered the planet Twitch via the above mentionedspasm, role-playing the bitch. Now who would have expected that sequenceof events?
The first emotion that oozed out of my lovely self was one of allconsuming rage. What the hell was going on? Did I not have justification tobe fuming? Who dares to screw with my much needed rest? Life is toxicenough. Sleep has always been a sacred thing for me. I was simply not inthe mood for extracurricular escapades.
Flat on my fanny, feeling rather indignant and looking around witha significant amount of disorientation, I asked myself where I hadunceremoniously landed. The circumstances had none of the flavouring ofa dream and, without a doubt, I was no longer in "Kansas".
Livid outrage snaked through my veins. My pulsating ego roared anangry line of curses not fit for a lady. Every night there was another messup. I was so specific with my dream requests and even had previouslyinvested in a lucid dream course to ensure desired dream outcome. So,where was my azure coloured dream? My desired visions were of vastoceans and waves lapping at a sandy shore line. Certainly, not this.
Hold the presses! Who was this mightier than thou character demandingmy instantaneous attention? Meet Mr. Burning Man in his immeasurableglory. I was not overly inspired to make his acquaintance and used a bitof witchery to let him know how I felt about his presence. My wad of rawenergy accosted him expeditiously and precisely. Eureka! It manifested ahuge commotion. He had a nerve to tell me to cool it? I strongly suggestyou lower your own boiling point Mister.
Dear Reader, have you ever attempted to hold on to a wire chargedwith 240 voltages? This is exactly how I twisted and squirmed in his steelgrip. Indeed, his attempt to wrestle me into submission was deliciouslyentertaining.
The...
