In My Sleep

In my sleep-
I am keeper of time,
I am a crow searching for food,
I am a slave to One master,
I am particles of light
And sunlight itself,
I am a woman conversing with God,
I am a child running through
An open field,
I am a man getting married 
to my soulmate, 
I am a sleeping tree.

I am busy with my work, discovering new places as I criss-cross through time and space.  My memory of myself is scattered everywhere.  This world too small to contain me.

Remembering, Reliving, Releasing

Upon taking a dear friend's advice, I am going to share with you, my reader, my life, from the very beginning to now.  As I am sharing my life, it will also be a time of reflection for me.  This will be painful at times, I believe that I am in a place now in my spiritual journey to explore deeper parts of my being that have remained buried. I'm calling this process- Remembering, Reliving, and Releasing.

With every memory I will ask myself, Who is thinking? Who is feeling? Who is acting? I hope a new perspective will emerge out of my observation of self.  As this happens, I then hope to view all of my past experiences in a new light and release them.

I want to go beyond the barriers that my adolescent mind has built, and tear them down completely. I hope through my vulnerability and courage, that you to will gain the courage to reflect on your own self and heal your wounds. 

"...birth is suffering, old age is suffering, illness is suffering, death is suffering.  Union with uunpleasant things is suffering, separation from pleasant things is suffering, not obtaining what we wish is suffering, in short the fivefold clinging to existence is suffering..."  Buddha

Sapphire's Letter To Arion: Writing As A Means

Beloved,

I write to cope with my emotional pain. My tales help relieve some of my suffering. The scars on my heart are deep. My dedication is a reflection of my greater love for you. You have left me in a state of grieving your absence and hoping for your return.
Does not a petal on the rose stretch to meet the sun in hopes of some meeting?  Don't her thorns fashion her troubles of his absence eloquently? What does a lover do, but use art to dress up the heart and reveal Eternity at the same time.
My grief is the landscape of my soul and is expanding me as a writer.  Tell me Darling, do I write it natural?

Your Darling,
Sapphire

The Union of Shiva and Shakti

Little Red Wagon Hitched To A Star

A little girl born to dream
dreamed lovely, dreamy dreams
She galloped the Milky Way
on her black stallion
On the backs of eagles
she went flying

Dressing up the stars in glitter and gold
the little girl was courageous and bold
She battled dragons that guarded heaven
snakes and monsters and beasts-
with heads of seven

Her adventures didn't stop there
she  was seen in Leo's lair
Nothing scared her so it seemed
Aphrodite took notice with pride and gleemed

She trained the girl-
perfected her skills
Gave her a little red wagon
with her weapons to fill

In it she carried her sword of truth-
sharpened by warriors old and new
It also held her shield of purity-
it was the whitest white sculpted out of ivory
Her armor was made of gold-
it was more than any enemy could behold 

The little girl grew up into a woman-
ready to meet her King Solomon
With her little red wagon hitched to a star-
she vowed to find him and follow her heart

Prepared now to take on the unknown,
and all of life's mysteries-
She rode on the Milky Way
towards her dream, her destiny

The Observer and The Observed

From journal entry 6/10/15

During meditation my consciousness separated from myself.  I observed myself from above.  My consciousness sees me crying on the floor, it sees me suffering. There was no thought of I or any identification with emotion.  My consciousness withdrew itself from my personality.  
Reflecting on the experience, I got a glimpse of how I unnecessarily suffer, and recognized a greater awareness that allowed me to conclude, time is an illusion and suffering causes us to feel trapped in it.

Samael Weor states that we do need to divide attention between observer and observed and yet there really is no observer.  When you look into that observer you simply see the act of observation, the pure energy of consciousness, which has no self.  It has no center, no beginning, no ending.  This is something you have to experience.  The intellect will fail to grasp it.

Reference~ gnosticteachings.org