love like water ::

i dance for her in the darklight,
spirit-winds nodding rhythms of yes
across our skin.

i am safe in our (commune)ion. 

my hands tell stories against a velvet sky;
they are mysteries and love-songs, prophecies, and histories
of nomadic journeys, deep forays into Soul;
and my hips, they curve into violet
as the whole wild earth of me comes holy-alive.

tender

i cast myself into the ageless symphony of midnight grace, and
you need to share this, she says.


you.
this.

my soul friend, she sees me, but i 
i don't know how.
i don't know how to be seen,

and so,
i careen into tender. 

today is another day of being seen, of being met along the wild edges of vulnerability and offering, and of being loved. loved like water, pouring over and seeping in, soaking every arid bone ~ the whole earth of me, drinking. i am reminded of Hafiz:

Admit something: Everyone you see, you say to them, 
“Love me.”
Of course you do not do this out loud, 
otherwise someone would call the cops.
Still though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.
Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye 
that is always saying, with that sweet moon language,
What every other eye in this world is dying to hear?

::

redemption

 

we are all soul-creatures, made to be seen, 

the gift of being seen by a friend my soul adores

created to be tenderly cradled and adored,

yet we tremble at the thought of it.

but may our tremblings, beloved, 

become the raw rhythms of our sojourn; 

may our fearful quakings thrust us into movement, 

and may those first, halting, 

barely-there-slow-motions 

ignite energy for our feet, 

for our life-dance, 

for our story.

let us take old, painful memories,

those hurtful moments 

which wrap us like a shroud, 

 tight, immovable, bound

and cast them into a great fire ~

and with this flame we will light our way.

 

let us awaken! let us say yes! to life ...

not merely to living, 

but to becoming alive.

::


may i be to you what was all gift for me?

let me see you.
let me hold you.
let me cradle you
in my trembling.

whisperings

let me drench you with love, watering the universe of you, and we will plant moon gardens and grow a tribe of shimmering souls who see each other with “that sweet moon language.”

let us love and be loved, and together 
we will begin to heal the whole world,
beginning with the wild and holy earth
of us.

The Wild and the Brave | Guest Post

by Shawnacy Kiker

When I first encountered Rain’s beautiful site, and her stirring Warrioress project, two things happened in my head. 

Thing 1: My mind screamed, YES! The idea of exploring the beauty and meaning and power of our deep womanhood - the warrior quality that lies just below the surface- resonated as being important both to me, personally, and important to women and culture in general.

Shawnacy Kiker

Thing 2: My mind sighed, UGH. Why does it have to be Warrior-ESS? Why is that particular added-on suffix necessary? Maybe it’s just my individual, somewhat obsessive, relationship with words, but I’ve always grated against the terminology that is used around women’s issues. Why do I have to be a warrior-ess? Why can’t I just be a warrior? Same as every passionate, bloody hero who ever dragged his (or her) wounded self across a field of battle? Why does it seem that there always must be a qualification when it comes to women? Being a warrior-ess seemed to me the equivalent of doing girl’s push-ups or playing slow-pitch intramural softball rather than shooting for the majors. The equivalent of accepting it as a compliment when someone says we do something well, ‘for a girl’ or ‘considering the circumstances.’ It felt the same as accepting the word ‘empowerment’ as though power were something we must wait around for another party to condescend to bestow upon us, rather than something that was born and knit into our inmost self, innate to our souls. I am, in general, and likely to my own detriment, loath to accept handicaps.

And while I still believe all of that is true ~ that there is no congenital handicap to being a female ~ I’ve had a change of heart regarding the word Warrioress. The thought dawned on me recently that the additional suffix is exactly that, an ADDITION, and not detraction in the least. Not only am I - not only are you - a WARRIOR, but you are a warriorESS. You bring something additional to the battle. Something more. Something important, significant, and distinct. We are warriors true, and we are women - wildernesses unto ourselves, turbulent and vast. As much as I appreciate and admire the masculine spirit and energy, there is a deep-rooted, seed-and-sky, earth-and-water, fire-and-light THING that women possess (can I get an AMEN), that is a massive, earth-shaking strength, and must never be construed otherwise. 

We are warriors true, and we are women - wildernesses unto ourselves, turbulent and vast. As much as I appreciate and admire the masculine spirit and energy, there is a deep-rooted, seed-and-sky, earth-and-water, fire-and-light THING that women possess (can I get an AMEN), that is a massive, earth-shaking strength, and must never be construed otherwise. ~ Shawnacy Kiker

soul prompts for warrioresses: love letter, part 2 ::

This is part 2 of our love letter prompt from last week.

:: Soul sigh. ::

Beloveds, you are amazing.

The words you share privately and publicly send my soul reeling into endless, star-filled galaxies.

I love your love letters. I knew I would; you are so luminous and shimmering. And Sapphire? Janae? Shawnacy?  I am honored ~ stilled ~ that you have participated in your own spaces with such lyrical grace and hush-holy vulnerability.

::

Do you have your letter close? :-)

• If no, please wait to read the rest of the prompt until you are caught up with part 1. :-)
• If yes, please gather your letter close and continue reading below ...

learning to trust ::

mae chevrette

I didn't plan on posting today, but this morning is so blissful that I can't help myself. I found this beautiful artwork by Mae Chevrette quoting Steve Jobs and it resonates with me beautifully. Learning to trust myself and my intuition have been my biggest lessons lately.

How did you learn to trust yours? Is it something that comes with ease, or do you often second guess yourself?

I rarely second-guess myself anymore but find that the deeper things (or the ones that don't make sense) are the ones I need to follow-through. Battling old messages and beliefs about self and heart are the biggest obstacles to overcome, but they are vital to living a whole, healed life.

I would say it is a matter of life and death.

::

senses shared

read: love notes from friends, emails, and twitter stream. I am not a faithful twitter-er.
taste: coffee.
see:  Spring burgeoning outside my window; the explosion of leaves. The plants I need to water.
hear: Happy springtime birdies and the spin cycle on the washing machine
smell:  incense ~ my all time favorite: "love" from Life in San Francisco. I buy them by the hundreds.
touch: Coolness of the early morning wind. I love that it swishes over and across my skin. I feel embraced.
think:  Need to pack lunch for work. Looking for an affordable bodhran. Trying to find a drum circle.
feel: Serene. Resolving to trust myself and my intuition more.


Your turn! :-)
(Don't miss the latest Portrait of a Warrioress featuring Shawnacy Kiker!)

portrait of a warrioress :: the prophet-poet

“these are the days of madness 

and burning ...”

While scientists still can't explain how a baby's heart raises its first brave beat, this regal declaration by Shawnacy Kiker triggers mysterious, primordial soul-rhythms that echo back to my own intimate genesis. A war cry rises; I fall a little bit in love. But that's only natural. The first time I pored over the resounding anthem that is The Dance of the High Hubris, joy and a strange kind of fierce resolve grabbed me by surprise. Shaky fingers throbbed with brave and I almost imagined Peter Gabriel's Running to the Rain swelling along with an assertion of my own:

... to become wholly entangled with life, 
to stare her in the face 
and grab her by the shoulders and say  

“you, life! yes, you,” and with smoldering eyes declare, 

“life, I WILL love you ...” 

But these days, as I pound my fearless love-song into the earth, I feel like I belong to a circus rather than the grace-lines of an otherworldly dance. The sojourn is messy, disheveled like me. Feet shuffle off-beat; it's more like limping than waltzing, and when I think of how I must look, all I see are the tattered arms of a flailing gypsy as she trips over rocks and broken shards of glass.

But the gift of Shawnacy Kiker?

What is a prophet, other than a brave teller of truth?  A soul-reflector sharing what she sees? 

Shawnacy Kiker

And when this poet spills her truth, life grows lucid, crystal, light-infused. Suddenly the world stops spinning, time slows for healing, and I can breathe again. I can breathe with one who understands this, that ...

This is not a poem about love.

This is about bleeding. And reaching.
And tearing yourself in two, and three, and fourteen thousand
and collecting all the shreds of you
and – on an igneous, blackscar-frenzied night –
rearranging them all on some vast
world-canvas,
creating something
entirely new and unknowable
made only of what was once your timorous self.


This is a poem about
pulling out your bones one by one
and drilling holes till you’ve made of them gory instruments,
and set about playing unheard-of melodies
on your own body
when the wind blows rough.


This is a poem about what happens
to you when you crawl out of yourself
like some holy refugee.
When you tear off the caul you were born with
and throw it to the dogs.


This is about when you see.
I mean SEE
things – and what that does to your
Soul.
~ Kiker, excerpt from This is not a poem about love.

Yes, this.
All of it. I want to stomp, shout. I want to run around all holy-wild. She holds my exhalation in her hand (does she know?); she presses life in, fingers gently sealing the edges. She sends it back and and writes of love again, and can I tattoo these lines to milky skin?

Now, then, will I wind my words for you on a spool
and they will keep – wakeful – somnambulant –
here in my drawer
until you have need of them:
……….the mending of a tear
……….the letting out of a seam;
……….or the fashioning of a coat,
……….that you might shelter your
…………………………………restless Light
……….against the long winter.
~ Kiker, excerpt from I Have Loved You

That coat? I've slipped my arms inside.
It hugs me, soft and warm, and this gypsy, well
she feels just a little less tattered
and a little more grace.

Portrait of a Warrioress :: the Prophet-Poet, Shawnacy Kiker

 
::

I see you, dear poet friend.
You are regal and resonant
In your tenderness and brave.
You are altogether lovely.
How do I thank you for you?
I don't know, but I'll keep on trying.
So. Much. Love.
_________
I am so honored that Shawnacy Kiker has written a stunning guest post for the sacred life which will be featured soon. You won't want to miss it. In the meantime, please visit her at Guts and Juice.

This is volume 3 in the Portraits of a Warrioress series. To hear more, visit Prelude to a Portrait. Would you like to join my warrioress tribe? I am moving slow gathering elements to share, but I will launch soon. Please sign up here!

love letter, part 1 ::

thank you for all of the wonderful feedback regarding this  soul prompts for warrioresses series!

what do you think of the badge? i opened CS5 today for the first time in a long time and i'd forgotten many of my photoshop skills, so it feels a little rusty right now. but at some point i want to give this blog a facelift and so i'm trying to refresh my memory a bit.

::

today is part 1 of a new prompt. i'm really excited about this one and can't wait to read your responses, if you choose to share. remember, you can comment anonymously if you need to.

soul prompt ::
part 1 of 2
a little hint: be imaginative, be creative, be as free and lavish as you want to be. :-)
 

Write a love letter to the person of your dreams. Tell them everything you love about them; pour out your heart and say everything you've ever wanted to say. You won't be asked to reveal who this person is (but I'd love to hear it, if you'd like to share!) so be as free as you can! (Remember, you can always share anonymously in the comments if you're more comfortable doing so. Moreover, you don't have to share at all, if you don't want to ... If you choose not to share, will you at least raise your hand in the comments so I know you're in? :D) When you're finished, tuck your letter away until part 2, which will be sometime next week. <3

what i really, really, really want ::

a few days ago, beautiful monica commented, i've asked this question to people i meet, or a variant, and it's shocking how difficult it is for most people.

i agree. i am (was) one of those people. what do i really, really, really want? it's easy to answer the obvious: deeper understanding. mad organizational skills. reach my goal weight. do what i love and make a difference for others. but all of these answers are symptoms of something deeper ... a root, a thing that matters most. identifying our thing can be a bit tricky. u2 says it best, i think:

I have spoken with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone
But I still haven't found what I'm looking for ...

so how do we?
how do we find what we are looking for?
how do we discover what it is that we really, really want?

the answer is simple.

it is through the lost arts of stillness
and listening.

being ::

it is through being present in yourself, it is being aware.

this is one reason why i love monica's senses shared exercise. in my own practice, something i have done for a long time is to sit and ask myself, what do i feel right now? what do i need? what am i hungry for? what do i see right at this moment? and this brings the truth of being into focus, and all that is real and true.
 
as we sojourn throughout our years, our deeply-rooted thing will vary according to our emptiness and fullness. at one point in my life, it was to matter. to know that i, as me, had a purpose and reason to live ~ and to live loved. there is a difference between mere living and living loved, and that difference spells soul-life or death.

for me now? what do i really really REALLY want?

wholeness. 

my own personal journey is about coming into wholeness, into (home)ostasis of soul, spirit, mind, flesh. becoming fearless; fine-tuning love until it shimmers with all purity and light. my sweet friend shared the following quote with me this morning:

When others see you at peace, they're reminded of the value of tranquility ... 

that is, you inspire them to be at peace. ~  Doreen Virtue 

this is why i sojourn,
this is why i live,
and this is why i desire wholeness.

opus 23

senses shared ::

read: "five women in religion to watch" is open in my browser. it is written by sarah sentilles and i grew distracted by the title of her book, "breaking up with God: a love story." must.get.this.book.
taste: morning coffee lovingly ground and brewed by my beloved.
see: i choose to see calla lilies, and not the above-suggested disorganization. :-/
hear: the haunting and delicate opus 23 by dustin o'halloran (click on image to hear its loveliness)
smell: early spring creeping cool and soft through my window.
touch: warmth of the blanket wrapped around me.
think: of posts to write
feel: pain and stiffness in my neck and shoulder which caused the cancellation of beautiful plans. :-( i am sad and disappointed.


::
as always, share your senses with me?
and stay tuned for our next soul prompt! 

soul-stirring prompts for warrioresses ::

it was a desperate moment. 
i sat at work with my eyes a little wild, and i pressed into ink:

i don't know. 
i mean i do ...
but i don't.

sometimes all we need is a blank page and a question, don't we?

i posted it on instagram and dear friends responded with their most secret hearts ~ the language of dreaming, the language of longing.

isn't tapping that hidden, dangerous, and tender place 

the way of life for a warrioress?

over the next few days i scribbled out dozens of prompts. to be honest, i don't know all the answers to them but i want to see what happens when we marinate in (commune)ity.

will you? with me?

i'm thinking about posting one or two a week. these questions are like jump-starts for the heart; some of them pull me right to thin, like my friend says, and i feel vulnerable seeing them on the page, quietly waiting for the answering.

but i think this is the brave thing to do.

::
so, beloveds?
in your deepest heart,
in all your wildest hoping,
with your eyes squeezed tight and lungs gulping air,
what is it that you really
really
REALLY
want?
xo.