Tag: Unicorn

Woodland Green

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Monday Meme, Red Woods, Shawn Bird

Red Wood ~ from Shawn Bird
Red Wood ~ from Shawn Bird

While walking the Woodland Green I paused to admire a luminescent mossy patch upon the ground when a preternatural calm descended upon the forest glen. Caught in a vortex the earth began to spin.

Then came a vast rustling of leaves and branches so strong that I thought the mighty Looming verdant giants would come crashing down. Whilst caught mid-spin I kept my eye on light shone down from the jagged Oculus mid the canopy of trees. Forms freefalling started to take shape. A veritable multitude of amalgam multifeatured animals like none seen in God’s Natural Kingdom.

Seemingly Middle Earth had exploded skyward hurtling forth a cornucopia of imps, fairies, hobgoblins, centaurs, and satyrs, gremlins with their symphony of resounding bleats, howls, and shrieks. As they struck twig strewn ground at once began leaping, frolicking and gamboling in a macabre dance bier simultaneously appearing in forest clearing. Such a cacophony of squeaks, squawks, hisses and moans that assailed my senses that I shut up my ears attempting to block the imprisoning noises.

The Bier seeming to be the only source of calm called me forth from this forest den of iniquity bidding me peace, calm and tranquility from the storm.  I answered Bier’s call to lie upon its violet flowered shroud surrendering to dreams eternal of the Babes in the Wood.

Not Looking for Mr. Goodbar and Why I Refuse to Play the Relationship Game

On By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, Abuse, African American Queen, African Goddess, Brickbats, Broken Hearts, cacophony, Carnal, DeBorah, Dissonance, Domestic Violence, Ethiopian Goddess, Fantasy, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Hook-Up, Intellectualism, Jesus, Loss, Lost Souls, Love, Menopause, Nirvana, profane, Redemption, Refuge, Rejection, Rescue, Sacred, Sanctuary, Shinnyo-en Buddhism, soul, Spirit, Spirituality, Stereotypes, Suffering, Surrealism, Wisdom, Woman3 Comments

Not Looking for Mr. Goodbar and Why I Refuse to Play the Relationship Game

Carnival Cruise 2004
2004 Carnival Cruise

Me, Myself and I

http://youtu.be/kw02oX3_uC8

Long ago and far away when I was in my 20’s and 30’s my Aunts on both my mother’s and father’s side were on my back about being married despite the fact that nearly all of them were either divorced or separated. I can still hear their voices, “Deborah you need to learn how to cook so you can get a husband.”  All my Aunts on both sides were good cooks yet none were with their husbands!  It got to the point that when my maternal grandmother Hattie Banks passed away in 1990 the aunt my grandmother had lived with introduced me to my grandmother’s Pastor as my 31 year old single niece from New York.  This caused my grandmother’s Pastor great concern and he asked to speak to me privately. He began to question me concerning my singleness. After a while I figured out he was trying to ascertain as to whether or not I was a lesbian!  I assured him that No I was not gay just had not met the right person. Now over twenty years later I realize his fears and opinions reflect a lot about people born and raised in the 1900’s within the confines of rigid Baptist teachings.

Fast forward to 2007 when my abuser finally left me and I finally felt free to confide in certain females whom I thought were my friends. I found that to be a big mistake.  Women often don’t support other women who have been through the wringer.  Too much Blame the Victim mentality out there. Then there is the other side of the coin with women pushing newly single women back into the shark infested waters of the dating game. Amazing how many insensitive and snarky comments I received about either not wanting to date or taking a break from dating.

I’ve had close friends yell and scream at me for my decision not to date. As a result I’ve had to ask these girlfriends not to bring up that topic. All the while I listen to them whine, moan, bitch and complain about what the latest boyfriend is doing to them. These women imagine there is a Mr. Right for everyone or that I’d want that person. They’ve bought into the mentality that a Woman is not complete without a man. They are brainwashed with that fantasy of John and Martha running to each other’s open arms on white sand beaches or in a meadow filled with fragrant flowers and four leaf clovers.

I do not lack male attention.  As one of my supervisors at work likes to say, Ms. Palmer you have many admirers.  Trust me when I say I wish many of them would find some other woman to admire.  Whether on the job or in my neighborhood I’m always polite and mannerly but I always keep things platonic and on the friends side of the relationship spectrum.

I do admit that since the break-up with my ex- and during the few times I’ve dated since then I’ve engaged in battles of self-hatred self-destruction.  I was participating in an online group for Domestic Violence Survivors. I was really saddened to see how emotionally bankrupt many of the women were.

Because so many years have passed since I was delivered from my Ex- I was able to be a source of encouragement to women still suffering. A few Friended me or Subscribe to my page and my goal is to offer strategies towards wholeness yet still revealing my struggles and vulnerabilities. Being an Overcomer or Victorious does not mean you’re not going to have bad times but you’d do not dwell within those bad episodes.

No matter how many compliments I receive about how much I have to offer a man and how beautiful and wonderful I am that does nothing for my inner healing. Sounds like I have nothing to offer outside of being with a guy.

Those remarks may or may not be true but that type thinking is missing the point and counter-productive. No matter how well-meaning or well intentioned those remarks may be THE POINT IS, I’m Not Ready and it may be months or years before I am ready. Right now for me the relationship waltz is an emotionally crippling dance.  Also I want to concentrate on Me, Myself and I. I’m not to the point where I’m ready to make an investment in a relationship.  I Love being an Autonomous, Free and Independent Woman.

Oh yes for those wondering if I still have a sex drive the answer is Yes but menopause has put a damper on it and I no longer feel compelled to satisfy that urge. Truthfully most days I’m just not interested in sex and for the times I am I learned to control myself. Also I made the decision to remain celibate and there are few if any men who can make me change my mind.

My life is not the Black remake of Eat, Pray, Love but more like Having our Say by the Delaney Sisters.  The Joys of Singlehood. Can’t even tell you how many miserable married women I know. Constant refrain of, DeBorah I wish I was single like you!  Proof that marriage is not all it’s cracked up to be.

And yes I’ve read all the relationship books written by men on what women are doing wrong and how they can better please the men they want in their lives or who are currently in their lives.  While other women frantically put desperate profiles on various on-line dating services, engage in speed-dating at the local recreation center, join the singles ministry at church or buy tickets and expensive clothes for silly singles cruises, I’ll be at home comfortable chilling with a good book and drinking a Smirnoff Ice.

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

On By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, African American Queen, African Goddess, African King, Colour of Beauty, Dark Skin, DeBorah, Ethiopian Goddess, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Goddess, Menopause, Mother over Israel, Scars, Spirituality, Tattoos, Visions, Wisdom, Woman4 Comments

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

It’s dangerous to be a Black Woman over 40 and seeking that special life partner. You’re an entity of exotica, scorn, repellent to some and desired by others. Both Jezebel and Sapphire. Succubus and Saint. Are we sex monsters or vixens. Or have we become the seductive Sirens of Green mythology dangerous and beautiful femme fatales who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting melody and singing to shipwreck on the rocky coasts of their deserted island.

 Do we aspire to Hatshepsut or the Mata Hari?

 At the demands of a modern sex driven society some of us re-imagine ourselves as the Vixen capable of seducing any man, but is this only a self-imposed illusion that aligns and binds us within men’s’ fantasies?

http://82nd-and-fifth.metmuseum.org/monsters

There are special dating challenges for dark-skinned Black women and Black Women over 50. All women have insecurities about their looks and self-worth. Am I ever good enough? Do I measure up?  Thomas doubted Jesus. We doubt ourselves. In the process we lose some of our dignity. We are raised to compete for a so-called small pool of Black men. Daily images of perfectly shaped buff voluptuous curvy young sisters are thrown in our faces by the media. Women must always be perfect.  Perhaps we are more lumpy than curvy.

We must fit the image society has for us. Even though in this country we have the right to choose a marriage partner, but from youth girls are trained to believe marriage and children are the end-all and be-all of life. We aspire to that. We are misguided. Then as you approach 40 some of us become more desperate because that’s when you fall off men’s radar.

 After age 50 you totally disappear. Relegated to the trash heap of modern antiquities. Relics of a bygone era. Back in the day women like me were called spinsters or Old Maids. Heck there was even a kid’s card game called Old Maid and you didn’t want to get that card! Even though we no longer use those terms they are still in the back of our minds.  So many emotions jockeying for position inside our heads and ingrained in our Psyche. I think it is much worse for Black Women. We become veterans of romantic wars at odds with our uniqueness vs. the Stepford Women of society and media.

And we do know that Beauty misplaced may yield the seeds of misfortune.

 In my 20s I was just coming into my sexuality and my imagined power to get men to do my bidding based on my body. In my 30s I yearned to settled down, not necessarily to have children but to play the role of wife. Such a role was never realized. By 40 with both my parents gone and not wanting to spend the rest of my life alone I entered into a long-term relationship with an abusive man who in small doses of love mixed with pain destroyed my self-confidence, belief in myself and planted seeds of doubt that it took years to root out. Age 48 my abuser left me for a younger woman after years of tearing me down. I was rid of him physically but emotional, physical and sexual abuse had taken its toll.

Emotional scars take longer to heal than physical.  More rapidly than I would have like 50 seized me by the synapses and the emotional roller coaster of Menopause played havoc with my emotions and feelings. I had to throw off the shackles of past abuse and find a new me that I could love. So I re-imagined myself into Storm and Cat Woman. Sounds odd but fictional strong female characters allowed me a safe space to grow into this new phase of womanhood. Now at age 54 I can truly say I’m about 95% at peace with myself and for the most part I enjoy the pleasure of my own company. Perhaps one day I’ll dip once more into the dating pool but today it’s all about me. Me being a Unicorn.

Eye of the Beholder

http://youtu.be/xHp9q3QTmVQ

Masks for the Masquerade

http://youtu.be/VOdF7UCf1VQ

Be Original. Be Yourself.

Being me.
Be Original. Be Yourself.

Ms. Afro Rojo signing off.

Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011
Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011

A Building at Rest — An Ode to the Medieval and Lehman Wings

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Catharsis, Creativity, Dreams, Explore, Fantasy, Goddess, Images, Innovation, Inquisitive, Inscriptions, Knowledge, Museum, Protean, Sacred, soul, Spirituality, Stigmata, Surrealism, Thanksgiving, Vision, Vision Quest, Visions

Ecstasy and Passion
Ecstasy and Passion

A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012 –
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from over 140 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from a Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Throes of Spiritual Passion
Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasm

Go back

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Planet Rock’s Soul Sonic Force into the Fantastic Voyage

On By dancingpalmtreesIn Cheytan, Flappers, Juan de Pareja, Muses, Pharaohs of Egypt, Planet Rock, Soul Sonic Force4 Comments

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 deborah.palmer280@gmail.com

Leda, The Artist Formerly Known as DeBorah Ann