Oh So Cute And Fluffy...

I am whatever is. What is, I am.
I am whatever is visible. Whatever is visible, I am.
I am whatever is invisible. Whatever is invisible, I am.
I am whatever is alive. Whatever is alive, I am.
I am whatever moves and breathes. Whatever moves and breathes, I am.

I am the very spirit of life. The very spirit of live, I am.
Everything that exists in time, is part of me. I am everything that exists.
When time ends, I will end. I will vanish, disappear, dissolve.
And with me, everything else will vanish, disappear, dissolve.
I alone can create, and I alone destroy, this universe.

Everything that exists is mine. Everthing that exists is me.

--Invocation to Lakshmi, India

There is nothing in the universe that does not partake of the essence of goddess.

Sometimes that's really hard to remember, especially when things and people are annoying you... remember everything is divine; easy to remember when things are cute and pathetic; and a mix of both when it comes to thinking about yourself.

For the last few days - since I got back really, there's been this little tiny mewling sound coming from out in the hallway. I know it's a kitten. There are lots of cats out here in ReHab, but it sounds so lost and pathetic. Many times I've been out into the hallway trying to set eyes on the poor little thing, because I worry that it's gotten itself trapped in the service areas between the apartments or something, and up until today I haven't been able to spot it. Today, I did. It's a really scrabby looking ginger kitten, very skittish. When it spotted me looking at it, it was part way up the stairs to the first floor, and it froze, and looked down at me as if to say, "Don't hurt me, I'm cute... see?" Well, I let it go on its way, because I can't take care of it, I won't be here... poor thing though. That's the second kitten I've resisted since I got here. The first was actually trapped on my apartment balcony when I first moved in. It was so tiny and cute... but anyway. Easy to see the divine in cute and fluffies.

Then there's those moments when you're hard on yourself. I can't possibly be connected with the divine because I'm slow and stupid. No... I don't really believe this, but this is what goes through one's mind when cooking the dinner and the doorbell rings, and there's a guy there talking to you in a language you don't understand. The next thought that went throught my head was 'why haven't I learned Arabic yet.' and the third, 'shit... take the food off the stove top.' and finally 'who can I call that can speak Arabic?' sort of in that order too. It's a cliche that we are all our own worst judges, but it's also very true, and I know I'm incredibly hard on myself. I find it hard enough to be nice to myself, let alone to remember the divine dwells also within me.

However, Imbolc is coming - the return of the spring maiden... perhaps in me that will spark a remembrance, an admission to myself that I am worthy and divine.

Role Models

I am beautiful, I am indeed beautiful:
I am the spirit of the earth itself.

I am beautifu, I am indeed beautiful:
The earth's strength is my strength.

I am beautiful, I am indeed beautiful:
The earth's toughts are my thoughts.

I am beautiful, I am indeed beautiful:
All that the earth is, all that is everywhere, I am.

I am beautiful, I am indeed beautiful.

--Navaho chant of Changing Woman

Today we are surrounded by still pictures of women, models who pose on every corner, every passing bus, every magazine cover. We know nothing of these women. We do not know which of them lost brothers to early deaths, or which were hurt by cruel parents. We do not know which one loves the flashing rainbow and which the thunder. We see them only as visual compositions; we cannot see their hearts.

Such ideas and thoughts came through my head when I read this, ideas for fiction. Stories around the ideas presented in the reading that accompanied the quote. What if we could? What if we could tell those things just by looking at the picture of the model - the picture of anyone? Would this really be a case of the camera capturing someone's soul, or is there something greater at large here... some awakening of psychic powers in the populace at large.

Perhaps I've been reading too many pseudo-science thrillers lately or something, but that really struck me.

We can't, of course... just look at a picture and tell a person's past - what happened to make them who they are today, and yet we put forward these models as influences for our young folk (and the vulnerable) to follow. There's something fundamentally wrong with that. We give outselves airbrushed pictures of perfection to aspire to... and become disillusioned when we fail. Whatever happened to the image of the big, strong woman working the fields, or helping out on the village green, or the community it took to raise each child?

Perhaps that's it... that community is gone, that each of us now lives every man to himself. It's a very sad state of affairs, if you ask me... and even if you don't, it still is.