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*Maybe you knew I was going to do that, maybe you didn't.* [Jun. 9th, 2005|10:46 am]
[My Fervent Expression Is... |awakeawake]

I suppose I've never been very good at keeping people up to date with my life.  It's another one of those things where I feel vain if I talk too much about myself.  Sometimes I feel that's what Livejournal is...a place to quench that lust for...well...talking about oneself.  And I suppose it's healthy, unless of course you're one of those people who updates every day and goes over every last detail in your life in poor grammar and spelling.  But, indeed.  To each one's own.

I feel a certain discomfort in talking about what has happened to me in the past six months.  A strange feeling that if I share, that struggle between "Do I speak out?" and "Do I not speak out?" will disappear, and sometimes I feel that struggle is the only thing that keeps me sane to everyone. 

The fact of the matter is that I am Wiccan...and no, it doesn't mean I've officially become a heathen.  No, it doesn't mean I roast young boy's heads over a flaming cauldron of green goo, and no, it doesn't mean that on Hallow's Eve (or Samhain for those of you keeping track), I fly over your house on a broomstick and cackle ominously.  This was a personal choice.  Wicca is a beautiful religion; it is a religion of the Earth and nature supports it.  It frees me from the matrix of complexities in life, and it allows me inner peace, something I have not experienced in quite some time.  I enjoy celebrating in my own way, performing my own rituals, being my own spirit.  You would think this would make me a solitary practitioner, even.  Not so.  I have a small group, seven to be precise, and we get together and talk about things over ritual sometimes.  It doesn't make me any different.  I don't walk around in a long black cloak and smite people; I don't cast love charms at the first two people who just happen to smile at each other by choice, and I don't put up with people that are in the religion for the glamour.  You want glamour, ladies and gents?  Please go back to the Catholic religion.  I assure you, they will show you all the glitz you need to feel satisfied.

Now that is not to say that there is anything wrong with the Catholic faiths, or any other faiths, for that matter.  To each one's own, as I have said before.  But I have found that, for myself, the Catholic religion has become more mechanical, and much less personal.  That is not a kind of spirituality I wish to pursue.  I am no machine.  So, it is here I stand now, years and years a Catholic, and six months a Wiccan...relieved and with no regrets or intentions of going back. 

And thank you, Veko, for your lovely comment in the previous post.

Blessings to You.

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*Shh. They're sleeping.* [Jun. 7th, 2005|10:45 pm]
[My Fervent Expression Is... |nostalgicspiritual]

I apologize to those who have been following my journal...the numbers which amount to zero.  I have been on many spiritual adventures that I will share in time, but for now, that is all the information you will receive.  I hope your lives are going well.  Blessings.

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(no subject) [Feb. 20th, 2005|01:34 am]
[My Fervent Expression Is... |nervousnervous]
[This Hour's Harmonic Bliss |the sound of silence]

How about I give you the finger...and you give me my phone call?
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*For God sakes, turn around. [Feb. 18th, 2005|10:52 am]
[My Fervent Expression Is... |quixoticquixotic]
[This Hour's Harmonic Bliss |Camille Saint-Saens' "Danse Macabre"]

Poor Children. 

So young, and already stifled by the ways of the world.  By the flaws in society that we try to correct, by the system that grows more confining each day.  Each day we work harder to control more...and destroy more minds, more individuality.  Too young to know the difference between control and freedom, yet smart enough to escape the system if they only knew they were in the thick of it.  And so they play on, with their cognitive, observed, predefined play...learning to tell time, learning to keep to a schedule, and never allowed to accept another flip side of the coin...that there might be another universe where time is irrelevant in life, and play is only a word. 

I heard a class talking about learning disabilities, where the focus was on ADD.  These children, with their mile-a-minute minds, are given drugs to slow them down.  To think and act at the speed that society wills them to.  Creating homeostasis and stability so that everyone acts as they should to remain part of our precious system of control.  Those that do not follow the rules and move faster or slower than the norm...become the disabled.  Those who can think outside the box and explain and prove that they are intelligent but also prove to be avidly obedient...become the gifted.  They become me.

There is a flaw to this system of society, and it exists in the realm of theology.  We are very careful about controlling that; no one dares state what the "right" belief is, what the "correct" religion is.  This is where our precious system breaks down.  Sure, we are all guilty of labelling beliefs as "weird" or "uncommon", but it seems almost a guarantee that someone else will share this belief somewhere else in our universe.  Still, in this present generation, I find cause to believe that no one is truly persecuted for their religion...that the only place where you may have an original thought...is in your prayers.

The only place you may think as yourself is in your prayers.

Mmm, too frightening to dwell on at present.  So I leave you with that.  Adieu.

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*Oh, Brave New World, that has such people in it! [Dec. 30th, 2004|11:16 pm]
[My Fervent Expression Is... |lovedenamored]
[This Hour's Harmonic Bliss |Romantic saxophone]

Welcome.  May tidings of the New Year be upon you. 

I am pleased to introduce you, the reader, to this collection.  This is an escape from the typical journal.  This is where dreams are borne.  This is where symphonies are created, where majesty is majickal, where mispellings are no longer mishaps.  An escape from the real world, an escape from the perfect, a journey into the imperfect...a journey into this imperfect land that is the subhuman mind.  You have stumbled upon this because you were searching for something more, because you found this on a journal friends list and dared to look further...and if you are still reading, you are searching for more than just something to fill an idle five or ten minutes of your mortal time snare.

It is a pleasure to make thy acquaintance.  Ye shall not be disappointed.


Sweet silken fantasies fast approaching

Flowing unbridled, clear as water, cool and delicious

As you turn to look in my direction, scorching fires in my soul

I am strong, nearly safe, but I am feeling ambitious…

These alien artists who paint glowing signals in my face

Pools of pink and red rouge tracing the canvassed cheek

And mind ravaged by lustful portraits in a secret place

Beside the treasure chests of words I dare not speak.

Tasteful tricklings of banter are the words that do fall

Though deep inside, a dream carefully caressed

And smartly stowed in silence. Ah, the art of revealing nothing at all!

Yet my heart feels otherwise possessed.

In my mind, colossal cascades of jewels, like an irrepressible tide

Come tumbling between us, nothing left to hide

Speaking a thousand tongues of the love I’ve kept inside.

Returned is the lust, tenfold, and then

Your lips kissing mine, again and again

Animalistic frustrations matched by no man

We fight it no longer, we are because we can

The touch of our skin, deeper love, feel it grow

Breathing hard, moving fast, yet taking it slow

Alone in the park, making love to the dawn

And suddenly, I blinked…

…and the dream was gone.


~*~Ambrosa Maeve~*~

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