Cha'tima's Revenge

She sighed; all resolve gone with the exhaling of air.  She lay there all hope gone from her eyes.  The early morning was past, the Sun was making is majestic way to midday.  She lay still as one frozen, lost in thought, letting the desert taker her fear, her anger, her very thoughts.  At this moment she communed in perfect harmony with the more constant of her lovers, The Desert.  She knew and there was no regret now for what might have been, only sweet longing for memories she could not take and a simple wish to this giver of life and receiver of her spirit.

A shadow fell across the edge of her ledge.  Still she did not stir, only her eyes sought his.  His eyes so hard and resolute, eyes with no mercy or understanding of what he would carry forever clung to her eyes, limpid with no plea for clemency.  She knew as he swung the knife – the knife she had used, still stained with the blood of Ahote, he saw it in her eyes that she understood and forgave, too late as the hate filled swing was completing its vengeful arc did he realize.  It only took one blow; the desert received her life force greedily.  A sigh escaped her as her spirit acquiesced to the finality of this ruthless act.

Desert birthing names

As my story progresses, a certain amount of research must be done for integrity purposes.  Today its names.  The leading lady has been named. . .Tuwa Catori, Earth Spirit in Hopi.  I believe this spiritual place flowing from my pencil  will next name he who slain first in this saga fresh from my Desert.

More Desert

Earlier in life I have always equated The Desert ~~spiritually mind you~~ with a huge place away from all life - a place of refuge, contained freedom of a sorts.  Several times in my spiritual journey I have said or felt I was in the desert. A place outside of my journey, physical and spiritual.  A no where place that one cannot escape from until certain criteria is met.  Thus a forced look at self for more growth.  For awhile I actually reveled in this sequestered spiritual place of sand and rock.  Here I had no worries, no bad stuff, sure no growth - just the status quo.  But after time has passed you want to get escape - you need to flee, somewhere - anywhere, because absolutely nothing happens in the desert.  I call it the desert of my discontent.  This desert the one so graciously and originally provided to me by Osiris at a particularly troubling time in my life of spiritual warfare.  A place to re-coup I thought - 'Nay, Nyet and No' sayeth Osiris.  Thus the desert of my discontent made manifest until I was ready to learn, grow and rejoin the path he laid before me.

In the thrall of my writing I feel the rhythm of this Desert; I see The Desert with different eyes.  There are rhythms, cycles, energies, life flowing everywhere. In the real desert I just visited in New Mexico and the Desert of my discontent too.  I have drawn such strength from my self imposed desert incarceration that even though I yearned to be free of it I realize it gives me personal power.  Not once but many times and over several lifetimes.

Now my journey around, over, inside, and through The Desert is making itself known to me in its many facets.  The story of love, betrayal, strength, focus, refuge, endings, and beginnings created from good choices with no outcome and bad choices that take the sojourner down a darkened path to the ultimate destination - the one the gods always intended continues.  The Desert has grown to encompass who I am, where I have always been and where I am going - from The Desert I sprang and to The Desert I will return.  It is the lessons on the road in between that are key; for The Desert remains - me.

Journey into the Duat

Now home from work I have had all day to dwell on my dream-time. My dream-time now unsettling in the light of day.

It was dark more like dim and I was in a huge underground cavern.  I was at the entrance to this cavern seeing a huge long dark river stretch before me from right to left into the distance. Ghost lights highlighted several areas beside this dark river. 

At the entrance I was conducted by invisible hands into a small powder room that was reminiscent of my parents vanity area when I was small child.  Here these same invisible hands dressed my hair in exotic fashion, these same invisible hands applied faint earthy makeup with heavy kohl liner and dressed me in an Egyptian style gown.

Then I was conducted to the head of these waters.  Various stands of huge ancient trees lined the shores with a sprinkling of ghost lights in the upper branches.  In between the stand of trees was large almost colossal platforms that looked like billboards you see along the highway.  On each of these boards was a living Goddess in muted sepia tones attended by a smaller spirit.

As I approached the first one, the Goddess looked down at me posing a riddle  "from cosmic stardust into natron powder I am here at each gateway"  I answer "My Mother Isis", I hold my arms up, as she takes my hand she shrinks in size from colossal to normal.  We begin to walk along the bank answering the other Goddesses we come upon them at each new juncture.  As we come to the last Goddess and the dark river stretching into more gloom, Isis turns to me and asks "beloved one are you ready, this will not be easy in your other life?"  And I wake up

The Desert - My Dreaming Life

My budding (novel?) has taken on a life of its own.  I am obsessed with this magical desert.  I dream of it, have visions while working and my spare time is consumed with it.  Even on my lunch break at work I scribble furiously.  The story is pouring out of me faster than I can write.  So fearful I will forget a key element or indispensable event - I see it all so clearly, possible past life ??  I can smell the sun on the rocks, hear the cry of the desert hawk and taste the life with the The People.

This image was taken on my honeymoon this past May, while we were looking at the petroglyphs of the Old Ones who came before.  This raw scenery is so very stirring - my thoughts,emotions and memories.