Pittershawn’s Realm

The earth as a spirit entity is shifting again.  It is opening up and communicating its truth in a way that some are beginning to recognize.  Others are left wondering what is going on, why the change…why the spiritual tsunami?  But even in their wonder many can’t help but to join. 

The untruths of what we call history are beginning to surface. They are being unearthed hot and heavy. It is terrifying to those who have been a party to the lies. They are moving swiftly to subdue anyone and anything that could bring truth to light. They want the world to remain ensconced in untruths, enslaved to destructive lies.

I will move with the earth changes. I will listen for the truths that are being spoken in hushed whispers by nature and the universe. I will listen.

I feel most free when I’m writing.  I enjoy finding unique and interesting ways to put words together to form sentences that form ideas that form worlds within worlds.  Through writing I can be whomever I wish and wherever I wish.  Writing is like flying; it is the ultimate freedom. 

When I write, I can feel the wind at my back and the sun on my skin. I feel cool water flowing through my toes and the sounds of vastness; the sounds of eternity.  Everything around me is even more alive and rich.  The words flow through me as the world I’ve created flows through my mind, through my heart and wraps me in spirit. 

Writing is freedom born and reborn. Writing is another world. And another place in time meant only for the one who holds the pen.  Freedom is writing.

Nectarines just might be nectar from the gods.  Their potent red skin conceals the bright yellow flesh that is a twin to the sun.  The sun, with its powerful rays, maintains and sustains life, just as the nectarine maintains and sustains the body. 

It illuminates the cells as the sun illuminates the very core of our existence. We are the sun, the sun is us.  Each tender bite of that gentle fruit is a reminder of the power of the sun. It is through the ever present rays that life is brought forth in the form we now know. 

A nectarine is amongst the many sensual fruits.  It engages the spirit with invisible fingers that tenderly caress every part of the body.  Its sweetness is sexy, and its scent is like pheromones.  Once eaten, the nectarine and my body become one, a symbiotic existence that can never be broken. 

Eating a nectarine is like eating sunshine.  And in turn, translating into an orgasmic experience that defies even the great power of nirvana.

Today I looked at my hair and felt the soul of my ancestors flow through me.  I could hear them speak to me, admonishing me to move forward, be the great and shining star in the sky, amongst the many millions of stars, all of us together, lighting the universe and paving the way for something incredible and beautiful.

Some spoke like thunder, others in whispers, but each ancestor reassured me that if I follow my path, greatness was not far off.  And my grand crown was only the beginning of a life journey that would unfold, like a lotus flower.

My hair…my locs…it houses centuries of my history. It has traversed time and traveled over thousands of miles of land.  It has lived many lives and experienced many things. And now, it finds me here, in this land, on a new journey.

I welcome the voyage. And my hair, my locs, will continue to leave the oral history of my lineage, for as long as it is nappy and natural, and filled with the soul of my ancestry.

Today I tasted the wind and realized that life’s flavor was oddly unfamiliar.  There was some semblance of what I was accustomed to, but there was this overpowering taste of uncertainty and fear.  A fear of something, I would never know, and uncertainty of the mysterious future that lay ahead.  But I knew one thing for sure, I was not the person I once was and this place that I called home was as alien to me as an eagle without wings.  There was a huge chasm in my life, a hole that seemed abysmal.  I was in a foreign land.  And time seemed to stand still. 

Unlike most days, I awoke this morning feeling out of sorts.  The events of the day ahead ran through my mind like a herd of elephant, leaving indelible footprints behind.  I remembered everything and nothing at all.  The hours to come seemed bleak, a fog of memories that would later resurface, subside, elude me as if they were not my own.  I was in a strange land, the land of my skin.  I went to take my usual morning shower.  It was another scorching August morning, 102 degrees, yet I turned the water on as hot as I could bear it.  Somehow it felt cooler than the dizzying figures that set my mind on fire.  Thirty minutes later I stepped out of the shower, pruned and soft.  

There was a cardinal by the window, watching me as I dressed.  It looked on as I pieced myself together, adding a new layer of skin.  Without movement it watched in amazement as I, like a chameleon, transformed into a new creature.  My skin went from brown to red; my feet became a black casing, very different from the ten toes and feet that were more than capable of carrying me across miles of time.  I felt naked in my clothes.  There was something unnatural about this ancient ritual performed long before I became aware of my existence.  I imagine the cardinal is wondering why I bother.  It has flown off in disgust, and rightfully so. 

The sun hits my face as I step onto the concrete.   I turn to look at the cave they call an apartment.  They say it’s a brownstone, I say it is simply brown stone, nothing more than a highly decorated cave.  I leave this artificially lit cavern, realizing immediately that I am on the hunt.  I will continue to hunt for at least another forty years before I realize that all I really needed was food, water, shelter and skin coverings during the winter months.  But I venture off into this vast unknown, alien planet, and do as the Romans do, hoping that they will eventually tell what all this hubbub is about.  As I float past my fellow creatures, I see some familiar faces, with new and different expressions.  I see the fear in their faces, but the behave as if they feel nothing.  Good morning, nice weather we’re having, you look well today, is all I hear.  No one talks about the mystery.  Who are we and why are we here?  It’s written all over their faces, but they’re all afraid to be the first to cast doubt on the things they spent their entire lives telling their spirit.  They don’t want to let go of the fantasy of superiority in what they would call an inferior world.  This world that we have convince ourselves we have a handle on.  

What is this place?  Yesterday, without question, I knew where I was and who I was; today the world has a strange aftertaste.  The flavor is too sweet, too sour, too salty, too bitter.  Too disturbing.  

I flaunt my nakedness before you, in the open air, under the blazing sun, on the maroon porch, as the breeze gently blows through the trees and through my legs, around my breasts and into every crevice that makes up me.

I am brown, toasted just the way you like me. We stand and stare at each other, wanting to devour everything me, you and us, all under the bright sun that warms us, even in places already warm.

I walk towards you and run my fingertips over your sun soaked body. We exhale, feeling our spirits connect, before our bodies connect, before we connect in ways that would shame even the rabbits that multiply like rabbits.

I touch you still. You then touch me. We move and breathe in unison, as one, inhaling, exhaling, wanting to devour the me that is in you that is in us. We exhale, and inhale the sounds of our mounting passion.

The sun god blesses us with her rays, warming our bodies as we warm to the sound of our breathing, to the feel of our touch, to the oneness of our souls, to the beat of our hearts, in unison, in time, a strange and beautiful symphony to make love to. To soul mate to, a new mating call to echo through the trees.

Under the sky, the clear blue sky, we make love. We move in time to the beat of our hearts as though this day would be our last. We make love like this day was our first. We make love like we invented passion, ecstasy, freedom, sound, touch, orgasms; freedom! We free each other as the sun frees our soul. We shame the sky, the wind, the trees, the rabbits who multiply like rabbits. We recreate nature.

This is a piece I wrote some time ago. I’ve decided to share it here…

I was walking down a long road not long ago. As I approached the fork, I was at odds as to which way I should go. Each path looked equally passable, with nothing significant to distinguish the right way from the wrong way.

I stood staring for the better part of twenty minutes, wondering what my next move should be-where should I go? Which is the easier road?As I stood there, another person came along, walking swiftly by me as I stood dumbfounded trying to assess my future. I called out to the person, who was moving ahead at a harried pace.

“Which way is the right way?” I called out exasperated.

“The right way to where?” the person responded.

“The best path out of here,” I answered.

“Pick a road and make the best of it, they both lead to the same end,” the person shouted, still shuffling along quickly.

“What?” I queried once again.

“It’s what you make of it; the journey. See you at the other end,” the person waved and smiled, while turning off to the left. 

The response of this stranger, who so eagerly plowed forward into an unknown future, was baffling at first. I watched as the slim frame slowly faded into the distance. I stood pondering what seemed like trickery to get me to make the wrong decision. 

Dusk began to settle in as I stood wondering on this comment, this idea that both roads could yield the same end. It was as the sun neared the horizon, and the shadows began to creep in that I realized it was not that both roads would be easy to pass, but that each would lead me to my destiny (chosen or happenstance). What I made of the Journey was up to me, and what was most important.

If I took the left road, it could be smooth and scenic, yielding all the pleasures life has to offer as I pass. The right road could be rocky and cold, laden with obstacles meant to deter me. But the right road, the more difficult to pass, hindered me only by the way I perceived the journey. What would be an obstacle for some, could be seen as a challenge, and a chance to put forth the very best of myself. The right road (pun intended) could be all the left road is, based on my perception. 

Our future is limited only by how we view it. We are the most impossible miracle the universe has ever created; this knowledge allows us to see that nothing is truly impossible, because we are here; and all we want and need resides in the limitless universe, in an uncharted and waiting journey-with a limitless future.

Perception is key. Don’t let the sunset of your life arrive with you still waiting at the crossroads. Take a chance. Whatever road you take will be great. All you need do is change your outlook on life, and step into the future-your future.

Seeds are life. They are what allow us to sustain; to feed; to go on.  We drink in the life force of seeds that develop into all the things we eat and interact with. Even as carnivores, we are indulging in a creature that developed from a sperm and egg, seeds of sorts.

All begins from the tiny life that is filled with an incredible energy. This energy encapsulates a universe of potential. Every plant and animal is the realization of the smallest, but some of the most potent powers on earth, the seeds.

Planting seeds allows us to participate in our survival. It allows us to see first hand the awesome connection we have to maintaining the existence of all living things, including ourselves. Seeds are the centers of our being. They are everything. Seeds are life.

When will we begin to hold people accountable for their spirit and not just their words? When will we begin to say to folks, your spirit is oozing disease, and you need to see that? We play into so many conversations in this world, never realizing that we are attempting to battle with negative spirit addicts. 

Addicts are the most clever negotiators. They will find inventive ways to make their addiction seem alright to them. At times, they will even convince others that they are not really addicted, but have chosen their way of life and are perfectly normal and reasonable in their behavior, and in the ways they act out against others. It is them, not me, they say. They are the ones who can’t see that I am perfectly ok. This is the talk of addicts. It has always been their way of speaking and communicating–their way of maintaining their lifestyle. 

The new addicts are those who hurl derogatory words or terms at others; their spirit is addicted to certain negative beliefs. They spew these things with the same precision and level of seemingly intelligent reasoning that all other addicts do. They are clever in their dance and spin on their actions, all in an attempt to dodge their real problem. And like most addicts, they may even make feeble attempts at apologizing, sidestepping the fact that their addiction has taken hold of them, and focusing only on making better the words they’ve venomously spit and they skillfully fool us into believing that that is all they need to make good on all they need to fix.  We take their apology, or not, and vow to get them back if they say another bad thing to us. We become accomplices in their addiction. 

Some of us will attempt to tell them they are sick. The typical response is offense. But this is the way of addicts. They cannot have their intelligence or integrity or sanity questioned. Because if it is called into question, then they cannot maintain their addiction with dignity, they will be forced to face their problem head on, forced to admit that they are sick. And for some, that is worse than the addiction itself. That is because we generally want people to see us as good. But in their eyes, a certain level of respect will be lost for them if they admit to their addiction. They will have, they believe, no dignity. 

We must, however, hold these destructive spirit addicts accountable for their behavior, and especially their thoughts.  It is the only way for all to heal.  We cannot allow them to explain away or give simple apologies for their problems, which ultimately affect others around them.  To apologize for a word spoken or an action taken does not address the addiction.  It only addresses the outcome of the addiction. 

I believe that until we hold people accountable for their way of thinking and believing, we will continue to battle a problem that runs deeper than all the surface discussions we continue to have, in an effort to tip-toe around telling an abusive addict that they are an abusive addict. 

Today, I hold myself accountable. I will take responsibility for telling the negative spirit addicts in my life what they are.  It is expected that they will fall into denial.  But if everyone around them disallows them from swimming in their sea of oblivion and denial, they will have nowhere to hide from themselves.  I will equally hold them accountable for their addiction in every respect. 

I believe if we take these steps, change, however slow, will eventually occur. As it stands, we have taken virtually no steps forward because of our continued resistance to telling people of their sickness.  I will not share in the shame of addicts any longer. It is not my addiction. I will not cover for them.

I have been reading a lot lately. I’ve been reading all kinds of things; works political, spiritual, historical, philosophical, scientific, fictional and so on.  I’ve become voracious in my desire to devour more knowledge. And with each piece of knowledge I digest, I become enthralled with this place…this place called earth.

We are a fascinating creation; all of us, plant, animal, mineral, water, earth, air and fire.  Everything is incredible in its own right and equally as important.  I am sometimes shocked by our overwhelming cruelty to each other and almost simultaneously filled with happiness at our beauty and kindness.  It is a feeling that becomes a part of living in this dichotomy.  It is awe inspiring to learn the inner workings (on even the most basic level) of all the things that make up this planet and all the things we invent by using what this earth has given us. Everything we create comes from something here, even those things we consider unnatural. It was still created from the natural, various elements in this universe brought together in combinations evolution might have taken years to develop. Yet, we have done it. We’ve created unlikely mixtures that produce plastic, glass, soap and all the things we’ve mastered that provide us with modern day conveniences.

When we really ponder it, is anything truly unnatural? Especially since all we know and create comes from elements that are right here on earth. The only dividing point would be whether some of our new creations are healthy for us, but there is no question that they have all the elements of nature.

As I read about some new discovery in science, some new political debacle, wars and rumors of wars, unconditional sacrifices and love, I am plunged further into the reality of my existence. I am humbled by this awareness.  Knowledge and truth takes us up. But I think this can only happen when we see things as they truly are.

Reading and learning about the world is and will always be the source of my spiritual growth. In some respects, it is our collective destiny to know all we can so we can move into a new era (or to a higher level of awareness); one where our knowledge of truth will give us the tools we need to create a world unlike any we’ve known in the past.

It is so hard at times not to get caught up in the madness of this world. But it is, thankfully, satisfying to get caught up in the wonder.  At times, for some in the world, the distribution of madness and wonder is not equitable. These are the perpetually disadvantaged.  But we continue to live, love and hope that tomorrow will bring awareness–and maybe, just maybe–a few moments of peace.