Pangeia

On December 13, 2015September 30, 2017 By dancingpalmtreesIn Pangaea, Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara, Pegasus Unicorn, Uncategorized18 Comments

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/planet/

This is a story-form prose-poem that came to me last night. As with many fellow writers many strange languages come to one in the period between wakefulness and full on sleep. I have no idea whence this tale is going for it emerged from my inner being. Enjoy and feel free to comment.

PANGEIA

Pangaea

In the days before the great flood underground tributaries flowed and rose upwards to hydrate the land. Where no underground tributaries existed rivers voluntarily overflowed their banks irrigating the adjacent crops.

Mother Pangaea graciously gave of her bounty feeding humans, animals, insects and sea creatures alike. None wasted. None were left wanting. None struggled. All bellies of sentient beings were filled.

A type of breadfruit grew plentifully from the overhanging trees. Villagers only had to reach out their bedroom windows or gather the golden ripe fruits which fell upon the ground at dawn to prepare healthy breakfast, mid-morning and lunches for the populace.

During this time of Pangaea all land masses were one joined together by straits, jetties and naturally born earth bridges. Gaia Earth Mother was a prodigious mosaic quilt of interwoven textile prints.

Persons who at this time were known as Ninth Dimension Changelings wore colorful garments of scintillating fabrics which gleamed in the Lunar Sun.

Their skins were of a royal purple hue. Ninth Dimension changelings’ distinctive characteristics were extremely long lavender eyelashes with feather extensions from the corner of each eye. The color of the eye plumes varied among their tribes, shade designating their family coat of arms. Some 9th dimension changelings had tiny diamond third eyes above and below their natural visual orbs. The eye feathers served dual purposes of adornment and transport. Diamond, ruby, pearl, amethyst, and other gemmed 3rd eyes assisted in communication with fellow tribal changelings as well as those from other alternate universes. These implanted jewels were internal and external translation devices enabling ninth universe beings to understand and be understood throughout the celestial Diaspora. Shamans and priestesses had golden hued skins with clusters of many color jewels over their right eye or to the side of the left eye. The High Priestess had the additional

Embellishments of semiprecious stones and crystals embedded into her chest region in addition to extra fine purple and blue feathers extended from her top and lower eyelids. All Her majestic emissaries had spiraling, thick curly multi-colored hair that extended in an outward spherical motion from the heads. Sacred inscriptions covered their backs, abdomens, arms and legs.

Being Ninth Dimension beings from a higher more realized realm all are Empaths & Telepaths. Meaning they can sense the feelings, emotions, & thoughts of others then decide whether to communicate via spoken or unspoken languages. Coming from a highly developed civilization they have the ability to heal others simply by sending healing and the ability to regenerate themselves of any illness or disability that may befall them.

They have the capability to travel through time and space either bodily or sending their doppelganger depending on the mission and circumstance.

They keep cats as pets. MultiColored Bright Neon Cats. The cats also have feathered tufts sprouting from their whiskers, ears, and eye lashes.

Suddenly the eccentric became a Banner of nonconformity and non-convention ready to spread Her gospel of healing across the pond if not the land. Now anointed Shamans in the ecclesiastical of the peculiar.

Ritual, rites, ceremony and sacrament bestowed absolution; gave order to Her chaotic life.

Three SiStar Ninth Dimension Changelings: Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara.

Valley flowers arose from the dewy mysts producing the most delectable scents and fragrances. Three of the most scrumptious Valley Flowers were the SiStar Changelings Pangeia, Merlina, and Samsara. SiStar Pangeia sprang straight from the heart of Mother Pangaea, Merlina was conceived via magic, and Samsara was the gift of the eternities.

Often they danced the Labyrinth, seeding the fields playfully chanting,

“Three Girls. Bouncy curls. Girlhood wanes so quickly. Raven, Red and Golden Brown.”

Daughter Pangeia gently pushed forward her winged Pegasus Unicorn Mare who with a gentle whinny and shake of her magnificent mane slowly lifted upwards allowing Daughter Pangeia to survey local territories and city-states in preparation for the eight year Mandala pilgrimage. The pilgrimage allowed all the inhabitants of Pangaea to co-exist in peace for epochs. In the eighth year of harvest season townsfolk and villagers traveled great distances to gather at Mandala to dance the Labyrinth and to give Thanks to the Goddess for her limitless bounty.

One day whilst Daughter Pangeia was scanning the land for a suitable place to hold the Mandala celebratory ceremony a huge comet felled the skies striking one large river making it two. River good. River evil. River evil was an optic delusion designed to lure unsuspecting travelers with the appearance of clear crystal lakes suitable to drink from but turned out to be quicksand bogs causing many lost lives.

This greatly troubled Daughter Pangeia. She immediately flew to the mountain chambers where she and her SiStars resided for council.

After relating all that she had observed Daughter Pangeia sat together in the established Divine Cosmic Circle held hands during which Samsara communed with the spirit worlds receiving instruction.

Samsara

“Once I was baptized by hieroglyphics and clear cave markings. Mother Pangaea tattoos now imprinted on feeble minds. Blood red raindrops on wet sand. Sulphur burn odor twitched many sensitive nostrils. Many incarnations are we! Many incarnations are we! We make our homes Divine Temples.”

Spun Golden Woven Fibers of Fate

On December 29, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn Absolution, Atoms, Borg Queen, Butternut Pancakes, Coastlines, Dreams, Dungeons, Genetic Memory, Harlots, Jigsaw, Madame Sultan, Molecules, Panorama, Perpetuity, Recollections, Reminiscences, Sand Castles, Scalawags, Scamps, Silt, Squash2 Comments

Spun Golden Woven Fibers of Fate

Mother was held in a panorama spun by coveted lovers, who were harlots through celibacy. Invasion of the Body Snatchers whilst the Queen Borg keys jangling at her side hovers and wanders abandoned cells. Caught up in super glue strong web awaiting sacrifice to whatever gods may brought forth. Brain septic by glowering imps sowing discord and muddle.

Reminiscences dance in the fog of false recollections. New realities dawn upon hazy cloudy dew kissed shores. Sand castles washed away by strong willed breakers. Molecules and atoms dripping essence along rosy silt coastlines. Scamps and scalawags populating geographical dungeons.

With this confession my Mother’s Soul residing within me is at rest. She rages no more, her anguish has been extinguished.

My mother and I share broken lives, shattered in similar places we cut ourselves on shards of pain, our fractured lives seeking to mend.

Madame Sultan with no edit button or filters to gauge this new animation wondering where to fit in. Butternut pancakes with a side order of Squash.

Now I attempt to retrieve the scattered pieces, seeking to restore the scattered jigsaw puzzle of Isis, long in disarray, bent and twisted from misuse, abuse and false accusations. Fraying the edges making impossible even imperfect fits.

Sitting across from her flesh & blood ghost, linking hands we grant each other absolution long sought from others outside our circle but only possible for us, from us. I am she and she is me into perpetuity.

Approaching My 3rd Act

On December 26, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, African Goddess, Black Unicorn, Broken Angels, Broken Hearts, cacophony, Catharsis, Craving, Creativity, DeBorah, deception, Deliverance, Delusions, Dissonance, Dreams, Erotic, Ethiopian Goddess, Expectations, Fallen Angels, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Free Agent, Freedom, Goddess, Jane Fonda, Menopause, Photography, Ted Talk, Truth, Understanding, Wisdom, Writing4 Comments

3^rd Act

Wisdom. Understanding. My Truth. Freedom. Moving towards my 3rd Act ~ Age 60 but not yet there. What aging was for my mother’s and grandmother’s generations is a whole new ballgame for me and I’m a Free Agent enjoying the ride.

I’ve been thinking about how I see myself as opposed to how other see me. Slowly I’m freeing myself from the constraints of youth. Actually I’m happier and more pleased with myself that I ever was 30 or even 20 years ago. I’m not running behind or chasing some man. Nor am I desperate to be in a relationship. Even in the face of emotional pain and heartbreak I have the courage to step away from a relationship that I know will never work and is not meant to be. I ignore the preconceived notions of what a woman should be. Of course like every other human being on this earth I deal with insecurities, fears, obstacles, all human faults and fragilities. After all you gotta break some eggs to make an omelet.

Each decade brings its own crises and a new set of questions and self-knowledge at least for those who are honest. In my 20s was my wild and crazy time. My 30s a decade of challenge where life’s tables were turned as I lost both my parents within the space of three years. My 40s I became more self-aware as my intellectual and academic lives merged and soared higher than a spaceship reaching for an unknown planet. As the economy crashed and burned after 2006 my life also took an unexpected detour actually several unexpected and in some cases unpleasant detours. Turning 50 in 2009 brought new possibilities but new queries. Health challenges via high blood pressure and a mini-stroke, retina surgery, vision loss. Changing lifestyle in my quest towards well-being and dealing with my new menopausal body. My new friend Mr. Arthur Itis who decided to make his presence known in a powerful way earlier this year. Stilling fighting Arthur with exercise but to be honest sometimes Arthur wins!! Yet in my mind I’m dancing. In my dreams I’m still that idealistic eighteen year old young woman who was always ready for the next adventure in life! Nowadays my body does not always obey my minds commands but I’m excited about my Third Act. After listening to Jane Fonda’s Ted Talk on new ways to view aging I’m looking forward to turning Sixty!!

Comfort levels also change as one gets older. In some areas of life one gets not only older but bolder. In other areas there is some hesitation born out of experience and caution. I find it is never good to make split second decisions especially if I’m angry or upset. Sleeping on it and allowing myself a good cry enables me to cleanse my system of sadness and worry. Letting my emotions out vents my soul then I can put things into perspective instead of committing self-sabotage. Also it’s okay to just stop. Stop. Put it to the side until I’m in my right mind. Screw all the people who tell me to keep going. Everyone needs a break. Sometimes I just need to sit for a few hours, day’s maybe even weeks and veg out.

Why be overwhelmed just to satisfy all the folks who want me to be strong, to be some fake, phony Super Woman who does not exist. Even I’m guilty of looking at a girlfriend’s life and asking, “Why does she stay in that situation? Why not just pick up and leave?” But in their life as in mine there are always extenuating circumstances that I will neither know nor understand. Hidden motivations that keep them in place because it is not yet time for them to move on.

There are thousands if not millions of voices out there disguised as “Life Coaches” and “Motivational Speakers” who demand you take control of your life on their terms but only you can make that decision. Only you know when is the right time to move onto the next phase, stage or level. As the Bible says you cannot put new wine into old wineskins. The most important voice you need to listen to is your own.

Despite the fact that financially I’m struggling that struggle does not define me. I still pursue my writing and photography dreams though I may never “get paid.” Writing and photography are my heart and soul passions that are beyond material gain. There is no need to sacrifice who I am to meet the outlooks of society. Art is Life! Back in Feb. 2014 when I turned 55 my Theme Song was I’m Still Here. Next year I’m Bringing back Sexy because it never left. By Age 56 Feb. 2015, I’m Taking it to the Next Phase! Third Act ~ I’m on my way!!

Ted Talk

http://www.ted.com/talks/jane_fonda_life_s_third_act

I’m Still Here

On February 27, 2014February 27, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, Acceptance, Alice's Restaurant, Catherine Townsend-Lyon, Character, DeBorah, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Pharmacia Cornucopia, Pusherman, rabbit hole, Shinnyo-en Buddhism, Spirituality, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, The Walking Dead, Understanding, White Rabbit3 Comments

I’m Still Here…………

http://youtu.be/BbhEo-4_ETc

Today I am 55 years old. It is a Blessing to be this age. I have depression, anxiety and panic attacks. I’m also a domestic violence and sexual abuse survivor. I’m the person sitting next to you on the bus, subway, at work and in church. No I don’t want pity just acceptance. Recently I had a conversation on my Facebook page regarding mental illness. It was good sharing with my FB buddy who works in the mental illness field about the obstacles and hurdles faced not only by the mentally ill but their families. The government just seems to put more roadblocks in our way so we wind up taking many detours towards a place called Wellness. My mother Mable Elizabeth Palmer lived most of adult life as a functioning schizophrenic. There is a serious lack of support services for the mentally ill thus we read of all these horror stories in the newspapers but for the most part many mentally ill folks carry on with their daily lives. Despite all that I’ve been through as a child and again as an adult I’m happy to be alive.

Sometimes when I tell my story people who have these “happy lives” meaning a satisfying long term marriage, house in New Burbia, kids, grand-kids, successful careers feel sorry for me, pity or think I’m a walking tragedy living a substandard life. Not true! I live in full life in spite of my numerous desert and valley experiences. Perhaps an even fuller more substantive life than those who eat from silver platters. Mine is not a half-life of only the sunny side of the street but a full life that includes the alleys, back-roads, ghettos, and dimly lit streets populated with voices yearning to be head. I like it that way.

Nothing to be sorry about. Despite all the things my parents went through, especially my Mom’s battles with her demons, she was also an alcoholic, overall I had a good childhood. We have a choice to dwell on the sad past or the fond happy times of the past. I think about the good things. The fun stuff our family did when I was growing up. Of course now being an adult I have a different perspective. I was not so accepting myself when I was younger but age, maturity, experience and time changed my viewpoints.

It’s the government and people’s approach to mental illness that needs to be healed. It should not be a stigma. I readily admit to my struggles with depression, anxiety and panic attacks. That’s my life. It is not a tragedy.The tragedy is other peoples reactions and perceptions of mental illness. My Mom was a good wife and mother. I served my country in the Army, earned my BA in English, held down jobs all my life, went to church, now a full participant in Shinnyo-en Buddhism etc… It would be good if people with mental illness were more accepted. If there was more help for those of us suffering. If people would stop trying to impose their expectations on me of what happiness means. Everybody has a past. Everyone has a story. Life goes on. I’m just happy to be alive. Pitiful prayers, slapping oil on my head, telling me the latest New Age positive thinking strategy 12 Steps to Happiness, and sad sack face looks going tsk, tsk, tsk are an insult to my intelligence as a human being. It is what it is. Raw, exposed and uncut.

I have health insurance so I do have the option of returning to those mind-numbing anti-depressant drugs I took after my mother’s death but I choose not too. I choose the full gamut and range of my emotions and feelings as opposed to being a drug induced zombie. During the high points in life I love my odd slightly off center sense of humor. The times when I’m at my lowest are the times when I’m most creative. I’m a better writer, a better photographer because I know what it is like to live life in the margins, the outskirts of society, to be a misfit and an outcast. I’m drawn to people living alternative lives. That’s why I love Street Photography. I don’t want what’s staged, posed or set-up. I want real. The nitty gritty. The down and dirty. The quirky and unusual. If life was meant to be perfect happiness or total sadness the books of Job and the Song of Solomon would not be in the Holy Bible.

What would the world look like if gave a helping hand to the Mentally Ill by supporting organizations like NAMI, prosecuting men who abuse their wives and girlfriends and pulling the collars off ministers who are rapists. What if we weren’t treated like modern day lepers? Instead of further victimizing people living with mental illness write to your Congresspersons and Senators to create laws that will enable us to receive the treatment and support systems we so desperately need.

No I don’t need to be “healed” but our society does.

Descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar

On December 8, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn Art, Broken Hearts, Catharsis, Fallen Angels, grief, Jesus, Loss, Lost Souls, Love, Malevolent, Nirvana, Paradise, profane, Redemption, Refuge, Rejection, Rescue, Sacred, Sages, Sanctuary, Scars, sorrow, soul, Spirit, Sticks & Stones, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, Swords, Vanity, Walking Wounded, Wicked, Wisdom, Woman, Zion

Descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar

Lord I Believe Help me overcome my unbelief. Father please remove all fears, self-doubts and my nagging sense of failure from my troubled heart and soul. I am the broken winged sparrow lying shivering cold, bereft of hope, hungry for acceptance, on yon forest glen. A Woodland Tragedy. Will Jesus the Gentle Woodsman gather up my shattered heart and bind up my bloody infected wounds? Lord Hear my plaintive cries.

Which voices do I believe? The Judging critical voices of men with ravenous sharp toothed dogs or the brutal voices of women holding sharp knives ready to strike and drive men into grave ground. Or Dear Lord your Tender Still Small voice as you Cradle me in your arms, safety bound. Oh God comfort the descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar that we may find solace, peace and sanctuary in a weary heartless land.

http://www.aboutbibleprophecy.com/p349.htm