Tuesday, January 25, 2011

that Intelligence that beats the heart...

What else is there, really, other than a very sensual world. Eyes which see, heart that feels, hands which touch, that intelligence that beats the heart, keeps the stars and planets hanging in the sky, and keeps the flowers growing. This effort to somehow get to this intelligence is the pain of separation, from the Beloved, when in reality who we are is only the Beloved, has only ever been, could only ever be. (from Sounds True)

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A Peace Song for Women and those who love them

A peace song for women and those who love them

Dear one, if you are a woman or you know one, please share these stunning words with her.

The Song of the Five Sisters
by Dolores Ashcroft-Nowicki
You are my sister, your skin black as night.
A princess of the Royal blood in the arms of Solomon the King.
Your beauty is different to mine but love is common to us both.
Yours is Saba, the Land of the South, rich in gold and spices,
Where the sun’s heat soaks into the parched earth.
Yes, you are my sister and together we shall live in peace.
You are my sister, with a body the colour of fine gold.
Your eyes follow the gentle curve of the almond, dark and mysterious.
In your veins flows the blood of the Seven Immortals, old as time itself.
The Dragon Throne was yours in that time and still awaits your return.
Cherry blossom floating on a still pool where golden fishes play.
Yes, you are my sister and together we shall live in peace.
You are my sister, your breasts are the colour of warm earth.
Soft as the voice of Rama, strong as the sword of Kali is your soul.
Generations of proud men, Kings and Warriors have sought your love.
The snow-capped mountains of the north have taught you endurance.
In the Art of Love you are without equal, daughter of Brahma.
Yes, you are my sister and together we shall live in peace.
You are my sister, your arms show the bronze of many Tribes.
In your hair shines the wing of the raven braided with quills and wampum.
Under your stilled fingers a weaver’s loom gives birth to beauty and colour.
Silver and turquoise are your marriage gifts, proud is your race and heritage.
Bitter have been your tears, and sorrow has been your companion.
Yes, you are my sister and together we shall live in peace.
Listen to my song, O my sisters, my face is white, pale as the moon.
Like you I live and love, bear children, grow old and will die,
yet I sing my song of hope for those that will follow us along the Path,
Throughout the Western Lands I sing the Song of Peace, of Peace between us.
Black and white, red and gold and brown, we are the women, the mothers.
Yes, you are my sisters, and together we shall live in peace.
For spiritual nourishment, please visit www.susancorso.com

Monday, January 3, 2011

Summer 1986-7

It is quite strange that I have posted this old photograph of myself up here with all the ladies are no longer with us. But I think its OK, because this particular aspect of me, is probably no longer with us either. The death of youthful beauty, is now making way for the inner beauty and power of me as the 'crone' I am now. 

Its the time of that of the year when one clears out all the old boxes and bits..I found this amongst some others of yours truly, probably taken around 1986-7. I think it was taken when I lived in Brunswick Street Fitzroy, at Maureen Fallons beautiful apartment. The lilies do look like her sort of accouterment. Its hard to believe I looked like that, and yet felt so unattractive! Just goes to show to not believe the stories you tell yourself..