With time various topics, most connected to the 'ancient ways,' will be covered. Some of these might be controversial in nature - you're most welcome to contribute.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Coldness Kills Creativity

I have been 'struggling' with this concept all my life.  Creativity is born out of warmth, out of a warm feeling that originates out of the Stillness from beyond Mind.  The biggest killer of all creativity is coldness ... a lack of warmth on the inside, coldness that creeps in from the outside ... ice cold people close to you, the 'cold push' from society ...

Coldness can hit you between the eyes if you look into the eyes of a cold Soul.  All Souls are warm, they are only cold, because the person carrying the Soul, choose to cover it with ice.  Many spiritual teachers believe that one can protect oneself from the Coldness, in the presence of the Cold Ones, but I believe that there are only a few who can do this.  Coldness hangs around, always low and creeps up from below and freeze your Soul ... this process is slow and before you know it, you're frozen over.

It took me a long time, but I have learned that it is best to move away from coldness.  Move away and find a 'still place' that is a bit warmer and immediately make a small fire.  See ... before that coldness can creep in from below, you still have time to be creative ... move away from the coldness and make a small fire, even if you have to search for a few sticks and rub them together for hours ... even this action will keep you warm.  Don't hang around cold people and cold situations ... it will get to you before you know it.

The secret of Coldness and the Cold Ones is ... NO ACTION.  Movement and energy, energy of body, mind and Soul, creates warmth.  Yes, you must have Stillness, but stillness in warmth, this warmth comes from inside.  This Stillness is always warm, because it is connected to everything out there.  When that is covered up by ice ... it's just the Coldness.

Very recently, a book 'landed' on my desk ... Women Who Run With The Wolves (Clarissa Pinkola Estés).  She tells the beautiful story of 'The Little Match Girl' and then she pulls the story apart in a way that is just as beautiful ...

The story in short:

A little girl, with no parents, lived alone in a dark forest.  She begged for money in the village, then bought matches, which she sold for a small profit to buy food.

One day she approached people in the coldness of the snow trying to sell her matches ... everybody ignored her.  That night she had no food and she sat in the cold darkness.  She lit a match and in the light of the match it seems that the coldness and the snow disappeared ... she saw a room with a heated stove ... warmth.  The match died and so did the room and stove.


She struck a second match ... in the light she saw the building she sat next to and she could see through the walls ... she saw a beautiful table with a cooked goose on a platter.  Suddenly darkness again ...

She lit the third match ... she saw a beautifully decorated Christmas tree.  She looked up and up and above the tree she saw a bright star ... remembering her mother telling her that when a Soul dies, a star falls.  Then her grandmother appeared, warm and kind ... covering the girl with her apron and held her close ... the little girl was happy.


The grandmother started to fade and the girl struck more matches ... more and more to keep the grandmother with her ... in the morning, between the houses, they found the girl ... still, cold and gone.



What follows is short bits and pieces, as Dr Clarissa Estés explains it ... do yourself a favour and buy the book.

"This child is in an environ where people do not care.  If you're in one of these, get out.  What the little girl has ... fire on sticks, the beginnings of all creative possibility ... is not valued.  Remove yourself ..."

"Being with real people who warm us, who endorse and exalt our creativity, is essential to the flow of creative life.  Otherwise we freeze."

"Anyone who does not support your art, your life, is not worth your time. Harsh but true. Otherwise one walks right in and dresses in the rags of the Match Girl and is compelled to live a quarter-life that freezes all thought, hope, gifts, writings, playings, designing and dancing."
I've learned that if you live with coldness as a child, it is nearly impossible to break away from it ... you can't break physically 'away' ... one has to do it emotionally and mentally ... this is not for everyone.  We can't blame the 'Cold Ones,' because they are what they are and in a way, we have chosen them - it is us that must be strong enough to walk away and find the 'Warm Ones.'

"Most of the time people have wonderful ideas:  I'm gonna paint that wall a color I like, I'm gonna to create a project the entire town can be involved with ....
"Those kinds of projects need nurture.  They need vital support ... from warm people."

I've learned that the 'Cold Ones' don't understand the concepts of nurture or support ... the disease of 'modern man.'  I've once been told, that I need someone to hold my hand ... we don't need that, we only need WARMTH.  We must always remember that the concepts of nurture and support are the enemy of the 'Cold Ones' ... because it is warm, it heats things up, it is the spark of creativity and it is seen as a weakness ... you're just such a child and you need someone to hold your hand ... you weak little boy/girl!!!!

"Friends who love you and have warmth for your creative life are the very best suns in the world."

"The difference between comfort and nurture is this: if you have a plant that is sick because you keep it in a dark closet, and you say soothing words to it, that is comfort.  If you take the plant out of the closet and put it in the sun, give it something to drink, and then talk to it, that is nurture."
I've also learned that the Cold Ones love to comfort ... because it keeps you in your pain and it feeds theirs.  Nurture lets the light in, it brings warmth and it takes pain away ... the enemy of all Coldness.

This story is about so much more ... I've only taken bits and pieces ... it is worth reading the whole story ... the whole book.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

The Doctors of the Soul ...

I'm not a person for the cold ... cold weather, cold people or coldness of the mind.  The beginnings of us all started in a warm place ... the southern tip of Africa.  Africa is not just warm in climate, but warm all over, it is this same warmth that can make people stagnant and soul lazy.  Strangely enough ... the coldness can ignite a little flame of creativity that can bring permanent warmth to all the rooms of the Soul.

All my life I felt that I never belong ... in what we call the 'modern' world, even the arrogance of the term 'First World' make my soul squirm.  Like so many in the so called 'First World,' I grew up in a society that believed in an 'outer' world ... artificial achievements and 'beauty.'  It is all about where you live, how you dress, the car you drive, where you studied, which church you support ... all about external 'things' ... things that you'll leave behind when you leave this world.

The total neglect of the beauty of the Soul and the lack of inner warmth and compassion ... this is the most horrible disease of the 'modern' world .... but, billions of dollars are thrown around like used toilet paper to care for the outer appearances.  The beauty of the Soul is left to rot in an artificial shell of short term beauty.

Creative people are 'people' who live in huts, little apartments or dark rooms ... wasting time on things to warm the Soul.  They live in little houses, with long curvy driveways ... they dress differently and drive funny little cars ... they have either few or very strange friends.  Most of them go to different Universities ... mostly the University of Life, where they study things that warm the soul.  The ancient things that the 'modern' world left outside to rot.  Creative people walk around by themselves and pick these things up ... create beautiful things to heal the Soul.

When the busy very good looking and wealthy 'modern' man breaks away from the rat race ... they go and live in little huts, in little apartments and in little country houses with long curving driveways ... where they hide willingly from their own kind.  They spend millions buying places in the 'country' ... to help heal their suffering Souls.

It is here where they overdose on all the things produced by the ever searching Souls of the creative mind ... the minds of creative people.  They go to hippie markets and buy hippie stuff to make their Souls happy... they buy erotic novels and arty books written by weird writers that live in hidden Cottages of Stillness.  They stand for hours and listen to the music of the 'musician' that sleeps under a bridge ... who creates from the heart and plays through the Soul.  They buy all kinds of weird music to help heal their Souls ... and self-help books written by people who live on love, green tea and berries.

When 'modern' man's heart has lost it's Soul - it returns to the places and creations of the creative mind ... where creative people live and create ... out of nothing ... because it heals.

Next time you see the shyness of an artist, the weirdness of a writer and the directness of the blacksmith... the little houses they live in and the funny clothes they wear ... the sadness in some, the abundance of happiness in others ... the lack of worldly things ... the creations out of nothing - think of it as the only medicine available to your Soul ... thank these doctors of your Soul.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Walking the full Moon

Walking the full moon ... like walking the daylight Shadows
Look into the depths of the Wild One's eyes
Lightness in my step ... seeing and feeling everything.

The moon ... white washed white, covered in a cream lace
Nothing on my shoulders ... cleansing of my soul
Light of the moon ... light in her eyes ... path so clear.

Tracking the Wild One ... all the paths she walk
Leaving her small things ... messages for the soul
Seeing her tracks ... leaving nothing else.

Return to the ancient ways ... path of the Warrior
Solitude and Intimacy ... Discipline and Letting Go
Inner Feeling ... Immediate Action.

Fearlessness ... looking everything in the eye
Fighting fit ... training of the mind
Stillness within ... creative expression.

Never looking back ... that's the wrong way
Focus to the front ... never give up
Finding new ways ... always creative.

Remove all coldness ... heat of a small fire
Watching her eyes ... always watching me
Never control ... always let her go.

Believe in touch ... in the warmth
Find the Stillness ... drown in it
Trembling lips ... touching souls.

Call of the fox
Death of a rabbit
Walking the full moon.

Monday, July 2, 2012

The Kiss of the Wild Woman ...

A kiss can be everything what we are, but it can never hide ... because it is touch through the most sensitive and sensual part of the body.  The place where all truths and lies are expressed ... with all the breaths of life.

A kiss can be deep and it can be on the surface, it can be warm and also very cold, it can tell of hidden lies ... but it can also link the soul of one to the other ... for a brief moment, making it One.

When all the channels in the body are open, when everything flows and all the obstacles of the mind are removed ... a kiss can show everything that's inside and it can bring everything on the inside to the surface.

The energy that circulates through the body are interrupted where the lips part, the tongue can complete the circle of this energy by touching the roof of the mouth.  This form of sensual touch can tap into the energy field of another, thus the feeling of One.

Being sensitive and aware of your own energy and those of others, a simple kiss can feel and tell everything.  This circle of energy that can latch onto the hurt and broken parts of another's body, can take the pain away ... every mother will tell you that.  Every true lover knows that ...

Emotional and physical pain are stored everywhere in the cells of the body ... a simple kiss with intention can relieve and even unlock the pain.  This is the Power of the Kiss ...

The kiss of the Wild Woman tells no lies, it holds nothing back, it is brutally honest and you can never make it yours ... because it is not yours to keep or to capture.  Once kissed by the Wild Woman, you see and feel things ... most very familiar from the ancient times ... some you've never experienced before.  Some of these things are within the Wild Woman and some are within yourself ... all these happens at the time when the souls join for a brief moment.

The kiss of the Wild Woman is never yours to keep, it is a golden key to the hidden rooms of your soul ...  Picking up a tear ... a tear that escaped through the windows of the soul ... picking a tear up with the softness of the lips ... that's the Kiss of Life, the Kiss of Understanding & Compassion.  This is the kiss of the Wild Woman ... the kiss we should all learn.

The Power of the Image

I believe that a simple thing, like a photo carries energy ... this can have a very powerful influence on the mind.  Images come in all forms and shapes ... they can come in the form of dreams or maybe a person that you saw in a split second, never to be seen again.  These type of images can stick like ticci tacci to the walls of your soul ... forever.

Sometimes we see something within the eyes of another ... or 'the other,' ... the eyes of a human or an animal.  Sometimes we see eyes in the dark or in our dreams ... some of these may be plastered permanently to the temples of the soul.

These images carries energy ... positive or negative and they can play like old black and white movies ... over and over again ... split second images on the white washed walls of your soul.  Sometimes we tap into these displays to gather a bit of positive energy or to swim in the dark pools of depression.  Either way ... somehow, it feeds the hungry mouths of the soul.

Some images are carved with cold chisels into the dark web-laced corners of my soul:

A man standing with a pillow next to a sleeping boys bed ... covering my face.
A dead Eland antelope 'girl' with tears in her eyes ... the blood on my hands.
The spotted One (leopard) I shot ... died in the perfect spot, waiting for me.
A Rhone antelope bull, running right up to me ... prancing like and Arabian stallion ... teasing me to shoot him ... but I couldn't, because I could reach and touch him.
The profile of a traditional Himba girl in a city ... with the 'knowing' that she doesn't belong .... just like me.
An AK47 in my face at a very young age.
The death of another ... blood on my hands.
The hurt in the 'Wild Woman's' eyes.

There are many images in the lightness of my soul ... I can bring them up at will, even in the darkest hours ... they feed my soul with positive energy.  I gather these wherever I go ... if I can I capture moments forever and I print them with the laser printer of my soul.  These images can't go anywhere, they're mine ... forever.

Some images come from a long time ago ... a life that is not from here.  Sometimes we see things and we Know ... we know that person, we know those eyes, we know that profile.  Sometimes we know that space ... that place.  This happens to me all the time ... the familiar ... always connected to the black and white images of the soul.  This is the time ... we must stop for a moment and remember ... never should we try and analyze ... only remember.

The more we store and the more we remember ... the more we pull these images up - the easier it gets.  If we find the Stillness ... images will come that help us remember, help us to recognise the path we must walk ... the people we must meet.  These images comes in all forms and shapes ... all we have to do is to look closely  and ... remember.

My favourite image ... the loving eyes of the 'Wild Woman,' watching her little ones play.  This is the highest form of love ... the love of a mother.  This is a softness, a love that no one can capture in a photo ... no words can describe ... it can only be laser printed ... forever ... on the walls of the soul.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

The Power of the Wild One ...

You've called me for a long time, because I've walked the Shadows for you before ... the familiar paths of Solitude and the wild, but rare trails of Intimacy ... the temporary reward.  In the beginning, as always, your call ... a whisper, your approach ... so soft, your eyes of kindness all knowing in the light of the fire.  Now, I hear your screams at night, your eyes wild and glowing in the dark of the night and you've sent the One ... Every night and even in my own shadow, I see his spots ... and I know it's time.

Always, you've spoken to me through the wind, the grass and the stars.  I've been trying to hide, but you've spoken to me through the language of the horse and the soul of the bow and arrow.  I should've known, I can't hide from you ... because you know ... you know everything.

Why can't you leave me alone, my work is done?  All I wanted is one Life ... a 'normal' life - I've tried so hard ... why can't you leave me alone?  What is it you want to show me, what is it you want me to do this time?  Yes, sometimes I long for the Stillness ... moving with the horse in the Shadows with the One.  Sometimes, I see the quiver of red-feathered arrows resting in the most beautiful places of Stillness ... yes, sometimes I want to go there again.  I want to track the Wild Woman ... watch her from the Shadows as she baths in the Light .

How am I going to learn this other life if you don't leave me alone?  I can't do both ... living somewhere in the Shadows ... somewhere between Solitude and Intimacy.  What is it that I must learn?  Why can't you leave me, just for one life ... why must I always see you, see your eyes?

I can't fight you ... I can never fight you ... you always win.  I'll find a flat rock in the sun today, one connected so deeply to the roots of the earth ... I'll bow naked for you and you can take my soul.  I'll take any path in the Shadows you show me and I'll run wild and free again.  I'll speak the language of the horse again and I'll touch the Soul of the bow.  I'll make red-feathered arrows with care and I'll treat them with respect.  Red, the only colour I can see in the Shadows ... the only colour the Wild Woman can't see coming.

I'll stop drowning me in all sorts of toxins, I'll cleanse my soul ... I'll run like the wind again.  I'll put all pain and discomfort aside, I'll sleep on the ground again, close to the One ... your eyes watching me.  I'll listen again, to all the things I already know.  I'll do the things that comes from Stillness, the things inside me ... those things that can only be awakened by the Stillness.

Out of the Stillness ... comes the Feeling ... out of Feeling comes the Creative Force.  See Wild One ... I still remember these things, I still remember ...

The One Who Hunts the Darkness.

Every so often, the Wild Woman calls me away ... away from everything I know in this life - to the places I've always known.  These are the places most of us have forgotten ... the places we can only find in the Stillness of Nature.  This is the place deep inside ... the place of Knowing.

The Wild Woman has wicked ways ... seductive eyes only visible in the reflection of a small fire.  The eyes are never searching, they don't need to ... because they Know everything.  Ignoring the Wild Woman ... turning your back on her, is the worst thing you can do.  Turning away from the Knowing is turning away from the Stillness, turning away from the place of Knowing deep inside you.

When I ignore the call of the Wild Woman, ... she sends the One Who Hunts the Darkness.  I've known him all my life and we had a few close encounters.  Once as a child, out of pure fear, I killed the One ... never do I want to do that again.  This was a day of great sadness ... the day I ate the flesh of the One.  The leopard is the One Who Hunts the Darkness, always alone, always in the shadows ... seeing and knowing everything.  I know the leopard ... I've killed the leopard and I've eaten his flesh ... therefore the One lives within me.

Lately, in the deepest of dreams and when I walk the darkness of the night ... I feel the leopard very close, following me in the shadows.  The Two ... the Wild Woman and the One - they pull me away from the things I do and know ... they pull me to the depths of the Knowing.  Still, I don't want to go ... I fight this on the outside and the inside ... I don't want to go.

The leopard is always alone ... a life of Solitude in the Shadows of Life ... always watching.  Every now and then he meets with his own Wild Woman, ... short intense periods of the deepest Intimacy.  This is the only time he lets go, the only time he moves out of the Shadows and gives Everything to his Wild Woman.  This is the time of the Drowning ... he drowns in the softness of all of what is the opposite of him ... Intimacy.  He can do this naturally, because he Knows and he is thirsty ... thirsty for the softness of Intimacy only she can give him.  This is the slow dance of Intimacy.

During the times of Solitude, the leopard avoids even his own kind.  His territory overlaps with the territory of his Wild Woman ... she never sees him, but he always sees her.  He watches her, learn from her ... learn everything about her ... for the coming Drowning in the softness of Intimacy.

This intense dance ... in the shadows, somewhere between Solitude and Intimacy causes a nature that kills easily ... the same natural ease as with the Drowning.  Very few can look the leopard in the eye ... only the Wild Woman can as she has no fear.  It is the eyes of both that pulls me now ... pulls me to the place of Knowing.

I must walk ... follow the path in the Shadows, the path the Wild Woman and the One Who Hunts the Darkness walk ... I must follow this path to the Stillness, so that I can feel and see the place of Knowing deep inside me ... again, just like the times of long ago.  I know this ... but I don't want to walk this path ... I'm fighting it every day.  The calling gets louder ... I see the Wild Woman's eyes everywhere and I can feel the One in every shadow.  It is time to walk ... I know it ... it is the time to walk.