Initiation 333

Kaleidoscope sounds behind the fluttering, closed lids of trust.
Breath shallowing, unmeasured, unnoticed,
Slipping,
Gratefully slipping,
Falling,
Roguish muscularity jerks consciousness into fore,
Resentment takes mind and holds it in a delusional awareness
A misleading reality.
Colours fade, escaping the grip of an imprisoned dimension.
Struggle, trying,
Struggle, losing...

Draw deep, sweet, succulent breath ...
The colourful, spiralling parade resumes in rest.

From core to peripheral the vibration lifts
A dull ache permeates the flesh renewal from heart streaming.
The flesh reacts,
The mind falls deep, rich,
Downward into beyond.

Cumulus travel, fast tunnel in light,
Sliding through the non-existence of time.
Sweet, spherical arrival, ever moving, without moment.
Emotion, too small, is overwhelmed
As knowledge is strewn against the limitless boundary of recognition.
Biology steps into mechanical relief, drawing information into structure it knows priority.
Spirit flies.
A spiralling ecstasy, aloft upon release,
Accelerating,
Infinite,
Savouring the fragrant mead of whole life...
Spirit Flies.

“the physical healing, while often “miraculous”, is the very least of what occurs in session”
Melissa Hocking 2010 – Quantum BioEnergetics International

In my mind, my descriptive structure, this is what it is to know session under Quantum BioEnergetics for the first time.

While the work we are doing continues to be "cutting edge", the research "phenomenal", while the demand for the knowledge of this is ever increasing, still it is this experience, this moment of recognition when the individual enters self that is what this work is all about. A genuine initiation intot he most important "club" you could ever become member of: You

MH

Stark cherry tree branches weep forlorn in the icy chill, battered by hail and torrential rains. Adorning her shape, ripe buds full of promise yet to awaken, kiss each branch tip and from each of them: a single remnant drop of rain, yet to fall. Baubles of hope, their spherical base mirrors the warming light. A reflection of a future.

The Dark Self

Spiraling into the shadows,
Awareness a pile about the trodden footprints from which one cannot sift out the clarity of wisdom.
The facade hemmed too high to disguise the pretence any longer:
Worthless.

Too short the reach?
Too far the journey?

History gripping, regardless of truth, striking blows upon raw,
bloodless wounds.
Phrase,
forgotten long by delivery, oozes from the open flesh of injury
Splattering pointless upon the transparent shield
Of the self torturing mind.
Worthless.

Cast amid the hungered jaws of the self involved,
Sacrifice to wants,
Ready price to relinquish
Upon the caged desires of the shallow.

Disloyalty ripples from core to perimeter of the performer.
The mirror cries
Worthless.

The mirror, fragmented, tainted by dishonor,
marred by the withering esteem of those casting response.
Incomplete in reflection, the mirror
Lies.
The clouded veil drawn by falsity is weighty, resistant…
Lift the veil.

All within screams hollow and
Worthless.
Lift the veil.

Injury strikes blindness, vision impaired of the truth within.
You are abundant within you…

Lift the veil.

Melissa Hocking 2010

Grief Evolving

The shiver chill of the air defines Winter upon us. The winter sun too low to penetrate the valley, days spent in shadow. Shallow light, anew, gripping the land with promise ahead assures the darkness is past. Streaking through the tree lines, paling the apparent infertility of skeletal branches, its sweet kiss begins to awaken the buds of renewal.

Rain.

Raindrops splatter light and irregular upon the glass as thought the chill in the air creates a reluctance to enter this atmosphere for so readily today it could turn to snow. Intermittent and undetermined, their arrival leaves one hungry for commitment, impatient for the uniformity of the solid fall of rain, the banking sweeps pushed by breeze of the gravity driven downpour. Release. Rain.

The Hunted Connection - Introduction

So many times I have gone to pen to write a piece about my incredible partner. Poetic, explanatory, argumentative, indulgent... regardless they remain unfinished and incomplete. So many semi drafts & scraps of paper escaping the pages of the present journal (in which all of my pieces tend to birth from) sadly can all be filed under "unfinished" as the journey's pace has too rapidly outrun the piece. Evolving alongside one other, continuing to grow together, these pieces rapidly fell to "outdated" even "obsolete".

Yet for however long this chapter is shared by my mighty man and I, I strongly feel it is a journey to be shared with all...for it is utterly extraordinary.

Making peace with my own expectations of self I have come to accept that in small piece, brief paragraph, even unfinished verse, I will share this with you :)

This series will be known as

"The Hunted Connection"

Each piece merely numbered prior to title so if the romantic in the audience needs to follow the order of the journey, they may :)

To quote Rumi, in the very same verse that graciously introduced my mighty man and I to one another :

"Those beautiful words we said to one another

are hidden in the secret heart of heaven.

One day, like the rain, they will pour

our love story all over the world"

Indeed, this verse is how we met.

Come with us...

Melissa Hocking 2010

Why Do We Wax?

Today in standard process and almost involuntarily, I habitually entered into the encyclopedic and systemic catalogue of hair treatment/removal: trimming, plucking, waxing, shaving, preening, volumising... Such behaviours are considered an "indulgence". And yet to inflict pain upon oneself is considered "ill". Regardless of the contradictory aspects, 'tis a stinging entry to add to the list of "things my mother never told me about being a woman"...sigh...

MH