Sense of Purpose


No Matter What Other People Think or Say About Me, God Loves Me with a Sense of Purpose.  The words of the enemy mean nothing to me only what God has to say about me. My writing and photography are my Passions and my Purpose.  My brother Stephen is often my Muse.


My Raison D’être

Habakkuk 2:2-3

New King James Version (NKJV)

The Just Live by Faith

2 Then the Lord answered me and said:

“Write the vision
And make it plain on tablets,
That he may run who reads it.
For the vision is yet for an appointed time;
But at the end it will speak, and it will not lie.
Though it tarries, wait for it;
Because it will surely come,
It will not tarry.

Third World – Sense of Purpose



Third World – Try Jah Love




Vintage Pair of Black Marionettes-Entertainers (Puppets)
Vintage Pair of Black Marionettes-Entertainers (Puppets)


Are we Life’s marionettes? Controlled by an unseen master puppeteer?  Who actually dangles the strings of destiny? Us or an invisible mind forcing us to dance to an unwelcome tune. And at life’s who cuts the cord and meets out justice?

We merely at its pleasure jerked about from place to place never knowing where we may land. Then tiring from our unstable dance, the bored child man casts into outer darkness. Thrown in the land of misfits serving captivity and blame.

Shall I base my destiny on a fickle entity or wrest away the strings, slash & burn then take control of me.

I stand on the precipice ready to take flight or fall ignobly into the abyss.  I lost all sense of myself and gained only a hallucination of you.

No longer did my reflection appear in my vanity mirror, but instead a grizzled, gnarly stranger with hot breath and commanding tone invading my life like so unmanageable mutant alien beings taking over my body, my life, supplanting my dreams with your insane aspirations.

Then one day all the Muses and Goddesses convened, delivering me from subjugation SubSumation into an early manmade grave.  Yes…..He chased but my soul took flight leaving him earthbound gazing upwards at my Gossamer Wings.



Queen Seshat Egyptian Goddess of Scribes
Queen Seshat Egyptian Goddess of Scribes

It was in the early times that the Priestess of Papyrus placed the Holy writ before me and bade me write the vision and make it plain so that our people who read may run with the vision. You hold the pen of a ready writer. Hieroglyphics danced before me then carried me to the Temple for sanctification. Pierced with the hollow reeds that rose up from the Nile filled with the ancestors’ blood the Scrivener was born.


Books bit me as a child. I was infected with wordplay and phrases began to drip from my lips and out through my fingers. A light went on in my brain and I was never the same yet all the better for books piercings. Dewey Decimal was a Vampire more worthy than Dracula.

Chosen by the Muses who have awakened me early in the pre-dawn morning and kept me going until Luna takes her place in the night skies. Athena, Isis, Lakshmi, Benzaiten, have anointed me as the High Priestess Oracle as I take my place in the Council of Elders. I ascend my Throne the sacred parchments are placed before me and I begin.

Planet Rock’s Soul Sonic Force into the Fantastic Voyage

Greetings and Salutations from the Fantastic Voyage!

Voyage to Planet Rock with the Soul Sonic Force

This is Cheytan and I’ve been asked to step out of one of my Mistress’ stories to conduct you on a voyage to Planet Rock and the Soul Sonic Force. Wait a minute. Excuse me but some of the other spirit creations are trying to break free before their time and they’re causing an awful din. Hey you guys! Silence! Thank you. Now I can proceed.

Planet Rock is the mutually created state between self and Goddess whereby you repeatedly step out of one state of being into a personal universe of goddesses, dreams, visions, reveries, and fantasies. Living inside ones head with the ability to return to the Three dimensional worlds for discourse with earthly flesh and blood. Some forays take you over to the dark side but one must always have a plan or a way of escape or you will be consigned to dwell in the nether regions ruled by the Tormentor and populated with demented of the worst sort. I’m fortunate in that my ancestral angels have not only pulled me back but accompanied me, overshadowing my being with a golden celestial aura.

Anytime I’m dissatisfied with the present reality I retreat to my the Living Museum– a parallel universe populated by artists and writers who have long since shed their mortal coils but reside in a world that they exercise the power to recreate the landscape through the simple action of pen, brush or chisel. Occasionally the inhabitants may get out of hand but they are allowed to stray from their appointed pathway only in the greater scheme of destinies.  The Muses are always by their sides enabling them to morph into alternate beings, with the ability to inhabit the glories of past and future worlds both terrestrial and celestial.

Each chamber has alternative portals that open Fantasy Realms with many alter-egos and avatars each vying to impress Mistress Cheytan”!

These imaginings and illusions become landscapes and dreamscapes opening into one another via a painting, sculpture or through the written word. The Pharaohs of ancient Egypt copulating with Flappers of 1920s America producing a race of superhuman beings and biomorphic forms who populate the fourth dimension world of Modern Art. The dissolute household, Isis, Ishtar, Nzingha, Makeda, Storm, the Borg Queen Lilith, Juan de Pareja, phantasms from the paintings of Tanguy and Carrington, the Wizard of OZ, Star Wars, all  meet  in a Great Celebration!

Juan de Pareja plays ethereal music upon a 17th Century Italian Harpsichord accompanied by musical voices that have taken the form of African drums, old Negro Spirituals, Baptist Hymns, Native American, Gregorian and Buddhist chants. Dwellers from the off center worlds of Yves Tanguy and Lenora Carrington dance a ghostly minuet strangely in time with the aforementioned harmonies. Umberto Boccioni mechanical cubist forms shape shift as each civilization raises its songs of praise to their nation’s way of life. Rumi and Hafiz recite poetry in Old Persian. Surreal images of Magritte and villagers from Chagall mix and mingle in a charged atmosphere. All happily exchange and converse within the Stream, that unconscious subtle system of verbal and non-verbal communication. Empaths guided by cues, pheromones, and inner thoughts, dreams and visions.  I fall into the vulgar world voices of the Alexandria Quartet. Suddenly I am Justine, Balthazar, Mountolive and Clea alone, all at once and separate.

Stepping from the filthy foul smelling streets we were ushered into exotic elaborately decorated quarters decorated with expensive Persian rugs, medieval tapestries, silk draperies hung upon windowless walls, tables adorned with Tiffany lamps. A subtle scent of incense permeated the airways. The decorations seemed incongruous yet harmonized together in an irregular yet pleasing manner. Palatial taste a bit ostentatious like a Renaissance bordello. The furnishings were highly articulated and faceted Baroque/Rococo objects, many with deep gouges and gashes suggesting transparency and interior penetration. This room and much of the house as well as the street urchins who passed through seemed to us an Orientalist fantasy. 

Always remember, “A Unicorn seldom this way comes to a locked Garden.”

Excuse me but my Creator Mistress signals me to re-enter the story from which I was summoned.

Folks it was fun being able to briefly enter your world, voice my thoughts and I hope to visit with you again very soon. Alright everybody the party’s coming to my place. Get on the conga line and let’s go!

Donations and Freewill offerings can be made directly to my PayPal account

Leda, The Artist Formerly Known as DeBorah Ann