ISTA L2 Malta - Nov 29th 2020

I notice it is not the naked female bodies themselves that a part of me still craves. It is their admiration, their approval. As if I do not trust myself, or my masculine self, enough to fulfill this thirst.

Trust.

Trust of being enough. Worthy.

I am here, present, and truthful. May that fulfill my self.

split

She sat in front of me, the orgasmic woman

She was to penetrate my energetic heart yoni

With her energetic heart lingam

At a distance

I opened my chest and assented

She knew what I meant and she thrust

Gently

While our eyes connected

I followed her rhythm

Forth, then back, imaging the friction

Our energies generated

With this subtle sex

The friction made heat

And flow through my body

I felt its strength rise

As some of my mind thought still

What was the use

Of this charade

Her throat lingam joined in with my throat yoni

And our ajna sexes as well

The thrusting kept going

My body followed, attuned

My breath rising

No effort from my side

My being rode the wave

Sobs bubbled from my chest

Unreasoned, unmeant

Each push grew my charge

Each pull let more bubbles out

My throat opened up for the sobs

Like an old creaking chest

Felt the shame of graceless expression

Shame became croaking groans

And was flushed out as well

Thrust

After thrust

After thrust

Thoughts unneeded, unable

My being rode the wave

And I held on to her rhythm and to her sexes

Panting raw

Like the lover surrendered to her mate

It wasn't pleasure that moved me

I felt it a need

A "please keep going, don't stop"

To release what was stuck

That crusty slime

To feel fully again

Ride me all the way

My cries were cathartic

Wails and screams raw

Midway between pleasure and grief

They asked us to disconnect

Instantly I looked at her and pleaded

don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop don't stop please please please don't stop don't stop don't stop

Caught in subconscious rapture

She assented and bore with me

Kept thrusting into me

I squeezed out every drop of her

Even as we slowed down

Even as we swayed to pause

My jaw trembled, my tearful eyes pleaded

slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow slow please please slow slow slow slow slow slow slow

And she said

I'm here. I'm here.

As she held me in her eyes

And I felt my loose sobs bubbling still

My channels raced with energy

Full of heat

And vibrations of release

Minutes later, I took them out

My hands close to my chest, pulled out her sex

My hands close to my throat, pulled out her sex

My hands close to my forehead, pulled out her sex

And I cried and cried, certain of having just felt loved

Deeply

And feeling the soft abandonment that I allowed

I skipped the next exercise, I was not one to follow

Walked out of the room with my hoodie around me

Found a corner next to a window and table

And I cried

And cried

And cried and cried and cried and cried and wailed and cried and cried and groaned and yelled and grieved with the emotional tool and shook my body and cried and cried and cried with the sorrow I gathered during years unfelt

When my heart was ignored

In favor of logic and reason

Even when they trampled

On my tender preferences

I barely knew I had

The last cries brought spit out

And it tasted like venom

Some toxic matter brought out of my body

I knew I did not want to swallow back

I spit on a towel

I spit on the ground

I spit in the toilet

I spit all I could

Out out out

So much I wanted a bucket

So I entered the temple once more

To find a bucket

Another she found me and gave me a bucket

Invited me to the next ceremony

I agreed

In this one I journeyed back to my pre-life

And created a journey of love

Conscious birth, conscious growth

Conscious guidance, loving care

Truth and trust, presence shown

As sometimes I spit

We were asked to feel our hands

And to feel which one was the feminine

One

My awareness moved clearly to my left

A sweet sensitivity in it

I felt into

It spread onto my thorax

My hip, my leg, my sex

My entire left hemibody embraced its softness

And at once, my being was split

Into her and him

One tender, one straight

One flowing, one still

My left hand inched closer

To my right stoic hand

She danced in curved paths

And spread tempting fingers

He noticed, came closer

Yet stood his watchful ground

He knew she enjoyed it

He knew there was time

She came to his borders

He eagerly grasped

Her sweet, tender fingers

With power and demand

He pressed her middle knuckle

And her small bone felt hurt

He was going to merely ignore it

As it was not a major hurt

Then he remembered that was the pattern

That was ignored for so long

And he paused their dance, and held her

With a loving finger kiss

His tip massaged her knuckle

And suddenly I felt

Her emotions collapsing

Into sorrow and tenderness and gratitude

That remembered when she was ignored

That felt the true love he now offered

That knew he was listening

To her soft cries of hurt

He was listening

And that was

Sorrowful bliss

They spent an hour conversing

In a cozy red cocoon

Minutes of listening to each other's energies

Apologies, sorrows, gratitude, holding each other

He covered her with his body, and caressed her skin

Her energies, still tender and fearful

Her words, he listened to in stillness

The same sweetness a man has for her beloved

Yet purer, clearer

Their energy flows direct

He and she both reassured

Themselves and each other

They would listen and speak up

Her desires he will attend to

His ideas she will heed

Neither owns the path, they share it

Driver and navigator

On a lifelong joyride

She likes sways

He likes jumps

She likes caresses

He likes presses

She likes deep sensation

He likes deep insight

She likes feeling here

He likes knowing this

They love one another

And are now learning to dance

Together

Silver web plumbing

From intuition

To idea

To desire

To action

Runs the silver thread we continuously weave

We have grown tall enough to reach novel treasures in the subtle

And to bring them down to earth

These treasures have helped us grow

Thrive

Flourish in phenomenal abundance

We have learned to worship these treasures

And build more and more of them,

And to build them temples, altars, within and without us

Everywhere we expand

Yet unaware growth can harm the web

Cancer is merely growth left unaware

And wears our forest down

We the nanomachines of a visible grey goo

Awareness, energy leaks somewhere in the pathway

From the subtle to the earth

My person notices leaks in our emotions

Cracks and gaps and blockages and bursts

Patched with uneven scotch tape and held together with rotting strings

Old buckets collecting the leaking fluid

Even a drain built underneath them

To not think about it anymore

Laying sizeable energy to waste

Draining our cycling bloodflow

We leave them in the basement

Behind that old unused door we probably misplaced the key to

The path down there smelly, slippery, and riddled with cobwebs

We don't like to go down there

Because it's icky and smelly and slimy and pests have moved in

And we'd really rather not

See the unfinished business we left down there

Because it can hurt

To see those unwanted innards

And remember when they were damaged by other flows

And we did not know how to fix them and take care of them

When we were told to never go down there because it's

Scary or unnecessary or just too noisy

And we also, like our formers,

Learned to hide the door and misplace the key

So we do what we can and we move on

If the energy loss is 70%, perhaps we can just increase the flow by about 3x and we can still be fine

Unquenchable greed

Or zeal

Or maybe we can just patch the flow from mind to earth directly

And live in sterile dispassion

The logical bypass

That discards the fluff of the unseen

Of the unproven, the unmeasured

Or we pay someone sometimes to

Guide us to empty the buckets and patch the pipes and unclog the drain

And the flow gets a little better

Yet only we have our own instruction manual

Untranslatable

That can heal our channels

Feel each leak and trace it

Test each valve, clean it, calibrate it

Properly weld or replace each pipe

Scrub our moldy walls

Untie those strings, unstick that tape, and remove those buckets

That are now in the way

Of our pipeline's unique healthy flow

Yes, it takes time and energy

As it does to learn the how and habit to maintain a car engine

But a well-maintained car may drive well a century

While one unwittingly used may break down months later when

It ran out of the oil we didn't know it needed

Although yay for electric cars

If we do not clean

We do what we can and we move on

Ignoring the refined potential we embody

That offers us a rainbow spectrum of feelings

To know our true desires and to feel the slightest

And the softest

And the loudest

Of the emotions in us

And around us

And if we ignore them, we do not feel the pain in us

And we do not feel the pain around us

Of the old man, lonely walking on the street

His yells and disdains a convenient release of his own blockages

His unresolved pains tightly shut until the end

Of the tired corporate worker

Grinding in habitual momentum

In constant friction against his own desires

He does not trust or does not remember anymore

Of the pleasant wife and mother

Who stores her miscarriages in an old trunk, leaking with pain

Her adventurous dreams eternally pawned for a normalized life

Who seals the door of her fresh sexual desires

With the key of obligate monogamy and the wallpaper of shame

Of the self-sufficient male

Unwilling to recognize the gagged feminine within him

Who wants to be loved tenderly, taken care of, to share her tears and her pains

Her diva and her beauty

And we may then continue to

Flow and live in willing oblivion

Unaware of the leaking energy

Of our fresh desires

Of the gifts our pains offer

Of the dancefloor we have cluttered up

With sloppily accepted routines

Long now stale and unrevised

That continue to grow rampant

And reproduce, together with the unawareness and with the shame

And locks

Inherited

Accepted

Or if we find in us

The will to clean us

To know us

Fully

Truly

We may yet reconstitute the pipes

That flow through our beings

Redirect our energies to heal the pains

To feel our love

To share our love

To find our truth

And to continue exploring

This world, both the dense and the subtle

With awareness and curiosity

And with joy as we share

It

teeter-totter

When the bulk of habits or society tilts unbalancedly in some direction, an unknowing newcomer will tend to lean on that direction as well, and adds to the unbalanced weight. If a minority notices this imbalance, it may attempt to bring balance by tilting, sometimes forcefully, in the opposite direction. If this succeeds, the change can be abrupt, destructive, and the imbalance will have only shifted its direction.

One who notices this pattern of teeter-totter, and who recognizes the balance in between, can choose to be and to remain in it with presence. By fortune, truth and presence are weightless.

tree

As the tree gathers air and moisture with its leaves, collects nutrients and water from the earth with its roots, and joins them together in ritual of creation fueled and blessed by sunlight energy, to feed, to grow, and to offer its gifts to the world,

so does the human gather thoughts and emotions with its senses, collect materials from the earth with its hands and body, and join them together in ritual of creation fueled and blessed by spirit energy, to feed, to learn, to develop, and to offer its gifts to the world.

sacred spot sights

We are human.

We help each other.

        present eyes, meeting.

Zoom into and fly overhead of what I will. landscapes of mountains and clouds in the background made out of inner light and dark, flying between tuscan brick columns and frames, a city made of mushroom-like tall structures.

a face moving leftward, clicking and changing frame by frame, gradually becomes donned with native american clothes and factions, becomes Pocahontas. She runs along my vision until she finds a torrent of people running in the opposite direction, a stampede. She continues running in her direction, leftward, finding her way through the opposing current of peoples.

A woman's left shoulder with three black butterflies tattooed on it, and some white residue streaked near to and on top of the tattoo. Her face is round, dark hair, goth-looking, somewhat.

Sabrina's eyes. Slightly tilted downward and to her right.

[post Sacred Spot]

politer

I sometimes act politer than I truly mean, not for fear of the other feeling offense, but for the fear that them perceiving that my words are meant as an offense or as an aggression would hurt my feelings.

Light of choice

There is a true difference between letting something go and pretending it's not there. The difference is choice. Letting something go means that we had the thing, and then we took the choice to allow it to escape our grasp. The choice is crucial. Pretending something is not there evades the choice. It looks the other way, or covers it up with a layer of excuse or of fantasy or of oblivion, forgetfulness. We may stop looking at it, we may stop noticing, realizing, then even remembering that it is there. But it is there. It remains there. The potential of choice remains, covered or obscured by the same self that was unwilling to face the newborn dilemma. And it will continue there, taking up space, obscuring that part of ourselves, cluttering up the space of possibilities that we could otherwise dance with. And we often dare not face in that direction, or take that cover off, or turn the light on, or else we'll face that dilemma we were so afraid of or unconscious of that we chose to escape it.

As one gathers many and more of these hidden dilemmas, unresolved situations, one actually becomes disempowered from dancing in one's own space because the dance floor is cluttered with signs and territories of "do not step" or "prohibited entry" or "caution - Poison", or "danger - social ostracism ahead", or "DO NOT TURN LIGHT ON".

puppy

Proprioception

Watcher on the hill

Each shadow asks to be seen

I see you, puppy

Lying in the dark

Believed itself to be lost

abandoned

and cries out for help

to be seen

I see you, my child

My boy that thinks women will not like him

I see you

My puppy that thinks he is too big and clumsy to play with others

and women will be hurt by you

I see you

And hug you

My boy that wishes to excel and be the best,

and to be seen and known as skillful and useful

and even as outstanding at times

I see you, my boy

And acknowledge your want

I see your excels and strives and stunts and wonders

I see you, my sharp fire lightning bolt

I feel you through me and

I love you