Protected: Essay; Male Intuition and the Sacred Masculine
Protected: Essay; Possession in a Relationship is a Double Standard
Prose; Snow Crystals (Free, an example of my Prose)
(Thanks to everyone for all the likes on this. I love writing prose and will continue.)💜
I lose my gaze in a myriad of crystal snowflakes
wending their way to the earth.
I wonder if they could be the scads of tears, prayers, thoughts,
and meanderings of humans all over the Earth
who didn’t quite ascend their minds to the pure, white-hot, burning light of well-being to be absorbed by the sun?
The snows will always return until humans are magnetic and hot…
The snows return to earth under
the sacred gaze of bright cardinals robed in red and
chickadees who speechlessly honor and guard their sacred prayer.
Their temple is truly the bare tree,
The faithful, the crystals, kneeling to bow to the cold wind easing to a snail pace…
the evergreen, the stalwart, pounding, sacred heart of the earth who doesn’t even know what forgiveness is. It’s unnecessary.
Blessings to all the Earth’s living to be born again in the winter white.
©1/2/11 Lisa Townsend
Protected: Prose; Elemental Woman
Protected: Essay: Heartset; Breath controls Feelings
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If We’re Not Thinking in Dreams…
They know by studying the brain that we are not “thinking” while we sleep.
If I’m not thinking, then where are the people, places, voices, words, events, and feelings coming from? It’s not exactly like watching a movie; it’s more like an opaque, frenetic cloud that’s really alive.
I’m free in my dreams to sit back or join in, to interact or be quiet without judgment. Waking life is a dream for me. All day, while I’m “awake”, I’m trying to go back to my dream state to remember how I felt, who I saw, and what happened. It feels like there is a whole other life full of etheric information for me there. Waking life feels like just a resonance is a type of magnetic can; the kind you string together.
Where did I go? I know it was a good place because it affects my day, depending on where I went that night.
I’m not saying I don’t like it here, on earth, but the other side does beckon somehow. I’m a bit glad of that for when my body is worn to a frazzle at one-hundred and four years old, my work is done, it will be easy to drift off and say, “My work here is done. I’m out.” My senses and my body still want to drink in all that earth has to offer though, right now.
Earth is fabulous, no matter how hard it can get here.
Prose; Sweet Earth
The smell of the grass, the trees, the fresh air in my lungs, the blood coursing through my body; that is sweet.
The physical presence of the soil beneath my feet and the sunlight in my eyes, that is true earthly sweet love and nurturing.
Humans aren’t there most of the time for each other anymore-especially when things are going well. Our culture has taken peoples time and minds from earthly awareness so that we are lucky to see each other for one hour a month if that. I’m not going to make myself sick just so people will come running to me, keep me company, and nurture me while I lie there. How is that companionship? I thought people who loved you wanted to share good times with you, not just bad?
The earth and my body are there for me constantly and give to me all the time, even when I’m confident and feeling really happy. The Earth doesn’t abandon me when I’m happy or treat me like a barking dog because I’m a woman that speaks up! I honor and think of the earth all the time in return.
I’m in love with the Earth. That is my sustenance, healing, and love. I guess it will remain so until I’m done here.
Synchronicity is the Source of Consciousness 
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