Melissa's Musings

April 4, 2017

Travelling Roads

I find myself travelling unfamiliar roads these past days.
Without fear.
Without caution.

Winding roads,
Darkened by the forest grappling at the very edges of that which is paved.
Closed by light denied,
Canopy shrouding,
Mists sculpting the beams, piercing swords that triumph through the tangled web.
Without fear.
Without caution.

Lonely roads,
Bereft of consoling markers,
of tell-tale sights.
Vaccuous,
Drawn by the beam before the engine.
Magnetic,
Intoxicatingly it draws, inviting the soul into its light.
Anchoring source from within.
Without fear.
Without caution.

I find myself travelling unfamiliar roads these past days.
With love.

MHH 2017

December 5, 2016

It wasn't a "scream" as such...

"Four times! What a dud cat..."
"You screamed, Mum." The smirk in my daughters voice.
"I did not. I don't do "scream", Teags..."
Snickering, "You screamed."
"It moved! Who wouldn't be distressed?!"
'It was just a rat.."
"Just? Just a rat?!"
Teagan, laughing "Whats wrong with rats?"
It came out in a hasty, malformed but meaningful, single word, collaborative of: "Bites, rabies, foaming-at-mouth, disease-ridden, bites, filth, wealth-of-bacteria," and a few more blurry additions.
Earlier I had hammered through the house at top speed, yelling for the cat, "Mooch! Mooches Mooch! Kids, where's the Mooch?!!"
Then I sprinted back through the house with cat in arms, collecting the kids in my wake like a high speed pied piper...

There it was.
I stood in the doorway pointing out the rat to Mooch, who, not at all interested, was instead using all cat devices to draw blood from my forearms for disturbing his sleep.

Failing his interest or even acknowledgement I then threw him, like dropping a feline bomb, from the doorway into the room near the rat.
Landing in a four-footed soft thud he turned, not even seeing it, Mooch cast a filthy look of disdain at me then tried to sashay out. So I picked him up again...
And tossed.

Four times! Four times I threw the bomb/cat at the rat, Mooch failing to deploy each time.

Finally I threw a sock at the rat, which moved, (hence my "small cry" (not scream) of distress, a little running on the spot holding the babies as high up in the air as possible (think of a Riverdance technique here with arms overhead).
(Lets face it, they are the rodent version of huntsman spider, aren't they?)
and Mooch, finally seeing the rat, pounced like the legend hunter he usually is.

There was growling. There was blood. Then there was crunching...
and to the tune of all of our "Ewww! Mooch!" we left him to his well deployed, no-longer-failing, feline devices.

"Screamed"? Pffft

Mooch - Cat Grenade

November 7, 2016

i am

i am the incomprehensible silence

and the memory that will not be forgotten

i am the voice whose sound is everywhere

and the speech that appears in many forms.

i am the utterance of my own name.

i am the hearing in everyone's ears

i am the speech that cannot be heard

i am the mute who is speechless

great are the multitudes of my words.

hear me in softness

and learn me in roughness.

i am she who cries out

and i am cast forth upon the face of the earth

i prepare the breath and my mind within.

i am known Truth.

i am the one whom you have reflected upon

and the one you have scorned

i am unlearned but from me all people learn

i am the one from whom you have hidden

and the one to whom you reveal yourself

yet wherever you hide i appear

and wherever you wish to reveal yourself

there i will vanish.

for i am the first and the last

i am the honored one and the scorned

i am the whore and the holy one

i am the bride and the bridegroom

and my husband is my father

i am the mother of my father

the sister of my husband

my husband is my child

my offspring are my own birth

the source of my power

what happens is set sacred

give heed give heed give heed

then you, hearers

and you also, angels

and those who have been sent as new spirits

risen now from the dead.

i am the one who alone exists.

there is no one to judge me

for though there is much sweetness in passionate life,

in transient pleasure,

finally, finally sanity comes

and people flee to their place of rest

there they will find me

to live and never to die again

Words from The Thunder.

Perfect Mind, Nag Hammadi

June 15, 2016

The True Crisis in this World

The crisis of consciousness. The inability to embrace humility.

May 30, 2016

The question is posed: "Is this an "age of empathy?""

With this popular marketing catch cry "age of empathy" being bandied across the globe, the question was posed to Melissa,"Are we in "the age of empathy"?
Do you feel we have we reached such connective depth?
Melissa offers her perspective on this topic in this 3 minute excerpt from interview.

From YouTube channel QBI333

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