Star Gazing

Dalion’s quest for spiritual knowledge had become a ritual. Five short years living with the Navajo had rekindled his desire to uncover his Native American roots. The Navajo traditions had awakened something deep within his Cherokee blood. Sometime during the year of 1976, Dalion’s spirit had left his body in search of something far greater than offered by conventional education or religion. Through the years it seemed his essence was still in Arizona trapped on the Rez, searching for that guide to release the torment of this existence. Many cultures and many interactions later, he was returning to Red Mesa in hopes becoming complete and finishing his journey.

“Yes, yes,” he thought, “I’ve been from coast to coast and still haven’t found ONE all enlightening religion.” They are all in conflict, even the ones that claimed to be peaceful. Some claim the holy day to be Saturday while others declare Sunday. Predestination was thought outrageous centuries ago, yet many still claim we all have destinies according to God. The ONE thing that really got to Dalion was the claim that God loves all and is a loving God, yet he knew from the beginning that ¾ of humanity was going to burn in this place called Hell. How could a “loving” God create a species and condemn over half of them to perish in such a horrific manner? All the “Christians” that I pose this question, call me “Luciferian.” Whatever! There is more to the big picture and Dalion was dead set on finding it. He wasn’t sold on the idea of reincarnation, but had vivid memories of past lives. He laughed to himself, “I might have been a knight once, but I damn sure ain’t coming back as a water buffalo! Too Hades with secular ideologies! I will find the path to enlightenment if it kills me.”

The pounding drum beat gets my heart rate soaring in rhythm and ready to ride again. The horses breathing heavy and the hooves pounding.  Leaning back, I feel the rain run down my face and neck, under my cloak, and down the small of my back. I have missed  riding in the rain. The creak of leather and the pounding of my heart within my armor, fighting to be heard above the rain against my breastplate. The clank of swords against shields in ready for the attack. I hear the horns and spur my mount forward, prepared to enter a night of flesh and blade.

“Aaaaarg!” Dalion wakes up with a shout. Sweat pouring from every part of his body. “Not again,” he thought. “Jeez! When will these nightmares stop?” He crawled out of bed, noticing it was 4:44 and headed to start the coffee. 4:44? “That’s 5 years straight,” he thought. What gives? The marble floor was as cold as the cutting wind had been in … Where the hell had he been? Forgetting the clock his mind wandered back to the dream. Was it a dream or a memory? He felt so connected to the dream. It seemed so real. As he reached for the carafe to prep the coffee Dalion noticed a trickle of blood land on his forearm. He wasn’t ready to face what he might see in the mirror, so he anxiously finished the caffeine ritual before trudging off to the bathroom.

Another excerpt from STAR GAZERS: The journey within the journey

Sitting cross-legged in front of Dalion was a very old man. He looked to be at least 300 years old. The wisdom of his years had elegantly creased his face with wrinkles. The peace that flowed intertwined with his word offered great knowledge through a soothing medium. The medicine man told him to complete the internal journey and find peace of being. Dalion closed his eyes and began the sacred introspection.
“Am I what I believe I am, or could I more? Am I less? Am I living a dream and dreaming my reality? Should I stay within the boundaries that everyone else has set for me, or do I fly free and explore the unknown to discover my true self? Too damn many questions. It is time to forget the ego and search for the well of peace. No more focusing on the past voices that scream, ‘You should have never been born. You are a loser. I hate you. You are not worthy.’ I am tired of hurting and resenting. I need to cleanse my soul and forgive all the negative thoughts that others delude themselves with before transferring those same messages upon my shoulders to bear. The 7 labors were given to Hercules, not I. It is high time to shrug the yoke of hate and dawn the harness of love.”
Dalion looked at his outstretched arms and saw wings of fire. He stole a glance at his torso. His whole being was aflame. Phoenix! He knew he was burning off the outer shell of the ego. He was ready to fly again. He was a new being with a new beginning. Dalion looked about and found himself standing on the precipice of a chasm between two great buttes. He closed his eyes and leaned into the gentle wind and was lifted high above the desert floor. Serenity filled his being. Total peace was within his existence. He felt so alive, and cleansed. Dalion opened his eyes only to find himself back in the sweat lodge and the old man replaced by a raven. “What a trip! Time to get outta here!” he thought, as he stood up and left the depth of the dimly lit structure and walked out into a cool breeze of the Arizona thunderstorm. Dalion jerked awake. “Damn, these dream/visions are getting intense.”

I am beginning to realize that there is no right or wrong, only our perceptions thereof.

I had a vision that I was standing with the woman that has been in my thoughts as long as I can remember. We were looking at an apple. We both knew the fruit was red in color. She said to me, “If you could only see the apple through my eyes.” I focused, and my soul entered her body for a brief moment. What I saw changed my perspectives on life itself. I saw the apple, but it was blue. That put a crack in my ideologies of right and wrong. What I saw as red, she saw as blue. Just because two people see the same thing, it might be quite different in each of their minds.  So every right is wrong and every wrong is right. I understood something of the ancient wisdom at that moment. Throughout the next 10 years that wisdom was touched by Fibonacci and grew exponentially.  There is only ONE.

Dalion recalled reading Brian Greene’s The Elegant Universe some years back and one line has been haunting him since he waded through the thick book on the Super-string theory, “How can a speck of a universe be physically identical to the great expanse we view in the heavens above?” He knew the answer before he finished the question. Through the fabrics of love and time, all things are equal. A rock has the same qualities as a star. Ions and anions. Everything that exists is there to regulate and fill in the holes of our existence. To add color to this confined corporeal life. To help us understand the all encompassing expanse of love. Love is where we originated and where we will return. That is all that really matters. So, a speck of a universe IS physically identical to the great expanse through the filter of my heart. Molecules. Atoms. Dalion was beginning to feel weightless in mind and body. He knew he was on the right track. D.D. Jent had once told me, “There is an unseen order to chaos.” He was so right. All the knowledge and wisdom of the ages are converging and offering a map to the next elemental plane. What everyone thinks to be layers of chaos actually create a pattern of order.

today's thoughts on writing

When one finds their way into the heart of a poet, the blood and breath of the troubadour become saturated with the other’s existence. The sojourner becomes a Muse. Sometimes for a moment, other times for life. Their journeys become one, inextricably bound. When this occurs, the other is now infused into the ink and lives forever in the words of the bard.
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Many believe ink to just be a dark liquid, but it is a mixture of the blood, sweat and tears of a writer and many times, the Muse as well. It is part of who they were, are, and to become. It is their life perspective. Each crafted piece is of a life, love, or loss. That is why many sit entranced by the words after scripting. Reliving or experiencing for the first time. We are leaving part of ourselves upon the parchment. Gently blowing to help seal the emotional journey within the creation, they are releasing the hidden winds of their soul to encapsulate the mentioned moment of inspiration; quietly whispering a final sentiment. Each write is a sacred entity and deserves an individual ceremony of self acknowledgement, appreciation and a nudge into flight. That is how wings are formed. That is how they fly. How we fly.
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There are pieces I have written that every letter of each word is savored like a delicacy stolen from the tables of Valhalla and brought back to mortality via the Bilröst Bridge. I feel omnipotent for a spell. Haha. Other times, the words written seem illusionary and even fantastical, so much so that I feel euphorically silly. Then I realize how mortal they are and return to my literary perch to chisel into more of the alphabet, seeking that perfect arrangement. The endless quest.
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So many people write, so many different ways. There is no right or wrong way to write…there is no trying. There is only doing. It is a part of each of us. Whether a journal entry or a song is penned, you are a creator, a crafter, a master of the moment. Write on!

© May 28, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: words are my thoughts, photo is a random internet find

MAGIC

 There is slight of hand, trickery, smoke and mirrors; but that is not the magic I believe in. The moments that shape our lives from birth to grave are the magic that is real. Watching a butterfly crawl from a cocoon and take its maiden flight, a falling star, a sunrise at the Grand Canyon, a kiss blown to us from afar, our first kiss, holding hands with our love, laughing with a child, watching children play, listening to a song that takes you to another time, or just watching raindrops gather on a window and wondering if they are tears of some forgotten soul. Whether you experience these things first hand or witness them through another, they each have a profound effect on your being. We have been taught that there is no such thing as magic, except that which you pay for and is little more than deceit. The real magic exists and occurs every moment of every day. Look around and remember that magic is what you make of it, not what someone else tried to sell you. One must close the eyes and open the heart to experience magic! Trust! The eyes of a child are closed to doubt! The heart of a child is open to complete acceptance! That is the key! 

© Oct 27, 2012 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

I am love

Peel away the thin layer of man-made illusions and accept me for the true raw elegance that I am. My mortality will wither and fade, but my spirit will live forever. I don’t want to live in your mind’s eye; I wish to reside in your heart and touch your soul. I fall with the rains and use them to craft your tears. I swirl in the mist and pass without trace. I am the magic in music the caresses your memory. My whispers so quiet, you swear a breeze from afar. As eternity thrives within each moment desired, empty time become lost in the years. I am love. Do not forget me.

© May 13, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

NOTE: photo is random internet find, words are mine.

THE EYES OF A GODDESS

I see fire in your eyes;
flames of passion
ignited by friends, lover, and all that stand in favor.
I see remnants of ice on your brow;
from winters past and forgotten,
left to be turned to tears in the summer breeze.
I see an ocean of compassion in your eyes
that you offer one drop at a time
to heal the scars and decay in the world.
I see reflection of earth in your eyes,
as you gaze across the landscape and ask,
“Where did it start? When will it end?”
I see Luna in your eyes,
the creator of tides and air that send men to sea
in search of love and treasure.
I see love in your eyes,
a tender caring
and genuine light from within.
You possess the eyes of a Goddess.

© May 11, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

Written for my lil sis Ami.

the soldier

The queen's maidens dress her,
as the king's men get bathed;
all adorned in flowing red.
Crimson rivers echo
far from ballroom laughter.
Silk kisses skin
much softer  than iron.
Hands fasten gowns
whilst a blade unbuttons flesh.
Deceitful rule expands
as the the truth withers thin.
Monarchy chokes on fat
the soldier starves
and takes his last dance steps.

© May 10, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

FOR MY MUSE

Each time I gaze upon your elegance,

I realize why I became a writer.

Although many see the beauty in the world;

they cannot comprehend its depth.

They seek with their eyes, not their heart.

As a crafter of the alphabet,

each letter I choose is a sculpting tool.

Touching deep the essence,

and slowly creating an mental image

for those who are blinded by mere lust.

I see not just a lady of monumental beauty.

I see the majestic beginnings of the day in you.

You hair like the flowing grasses,

dancing in the wind.

Eyes like the open skies,

the portals to the cathedral of your soul.

Nose and cheeks,

offer the hint of the gentle rolling hills of the countryside.

Your lips,

the gateway to Heaven.

The graceful movements of your body,

fluid as the Seven Seas under trance of Luna.

A rhythm of the perfect evening,

set to your heartbeat.

You soul an expanse of love,

an elixir of pain and pleasure.

The pain in my heart for the blind,

the pleasure for those that see.

You are beauty.

You are my Muse.

© May 6, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic

the language of humanity

I am rich in friends, culture, wisdom, intellect, and the gift of writing. I am eternal. I shall live forever. This "mortality" is just another language in the form of being. A way to experience and share love in yet another realm of existence. The tongue of the corporeal. Other accents of life do not endure sorrow or pain, yet they do not know of the pure joys of forgiveness nor the depths of love. I would change nothing in this time I have spent Earthbound. The aches and pains have sharpened the beauty of it all. I understand life...in all its wonder and majesty. I am alive.

DO YOU WANT TO FALL IN LOVE AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN?

 No matter what has happened in the past, it should never dictate the future. That is why so many relationships fail. We have been raised in a time where lawyers rule the waves and teach us to have thin skin and always set up a safety net. That is why no one can "fall" in love these days. They know there is a safety net, so the fall means little. Falling in love is the euphoric faith that your lover will catch you and as you fall, and vice versa. So neither ever needs a safety net in place. Each others wings of love keep both flying and falling forever. Trust helps your mates wings stronger. Deception withers  wings; not only theirs, but yours as well. Be truthful, be faithful, be open. Be in love and enjoy the fall.