“The Artist Said” by Megan Seaman

 

Lord Ganesha, remover of all obstacles, bestower of Wisdom

What’s green and sawtoothed, with woody musk?

“Why, it’s the evergreen mammoth” the explorer said, “with his two ton tusks.”

 

What’s curved and scaled, with fiery sound?

“Why, it’s the darkened treble” the musician said, “of the clef that abounds.”

 

What’s stony and grey, with an elephant’s head?

“Why, it’s the deity of wisdom” the Brahman said, “atop a mouse, instead.”

 

What’s changing and swirling, with fearsome winds?

“Why, it’s the modified mind-stuff” the Yogini said, “fighting to get in.”

 

What’s full of coincidence, imagination and, dreams?

“Why, it’s the three only things” the artist said, “that thread the seams…

…of the creative spirit and connects us all

and into the soundless nothingness we all will fall.”

 

And the artist said with glazed over gaze, but canny contemplation,

“the canvas I paint today is my own sublimation

of the enemy ego that darkens my heart

and clouds the love that brightens the stark

and cold tundras of this armor I wear

that was built to protect the vulnerability I fear.”

 

And then the artist said, with a sigh and a step,

“I’m setting free this corroded metal for the self and the breath.

No more clinging

No more stinging

No more sea salty things

Just the light in the sky and the winds that it brings.

 

And I’ll say just one more thing and then I will go

Paint your pictures in the present, for (the past is gone and) tomorrow never knows.”

My Heart is Set on You (or Never Ever Fall in Love with a Rockstar) by Megan Seaman

Heart on fire

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

Though you do not care that I exist

Though I send you lollipops like you wish

Though my fragile tissue may gushingly bleed

Though you think you have all you need

Though she sings the songs you passionately sing

Though you’ve given her that diamond ring

Though what I say might sound disturbing

Though I’ll take a hundred years discerning

Though the truth is yet disappointingly unknown

Though you won’t call me on your telephone

Though we live miles and miles apart

Though the distance is long to make a start

Though it rains cold drops on Monday morning

Though it persists through evening violently storming

Though when the sun comes it is wondrously warm

Though the light reveals the drapes now torn

Though what I might say doesn’t mean a thing

Though you care not for gifts I bring

Though I will never feel the touch of your hand

Though we will never go the places I plan

Though the Universe is wide and wild and expanding

Though I’ll see you on that street corner standing

Though our eyes will meet in some seraphic way

Though at a moments pause you will turn and look away

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

My poor old lonely heart is set on you.

It hurts so good (8-2-14 to 8-3-14) – by Megan Seaman

Something golden below the surface

It hurts so good.

You run the sharp nail over the raw and tender surface and it hurts so good. It is the feeling of nothing; a faint scream, or some noise six billion years away. But you hear it anyway. It is the trickle of water from some cracked pipe, in some wall, on some floor, in some building, in some city, in some country, on some continent, and it leaks and flows in the darkness. But you hear it anyway. It is the glimmer, shining, thirty-six thousand feet below the sea, where Spanish dancing cucumbers can’t even survive. But you see it anyway. It is the honeyed smell of spring, some one hundred and seventy-nine days after the first leaf falls on autumn’s ground. But you smell it anyway. It is the flavor of the pomegranate in the dark red depths of the wine that grew from the grapes nourished by the land, which flourished an orchard of Persephone’s fruits nine thousand years ago. But you taste it anyway. It is the aching feeling under three (thousand) layers of skin, wanting to be exposed and touched, wanting to be acknowledge for the sensation it brings. But you feel it anyway. And though it is tender and raw under the piercing metal,

It hurts so good.

Eagle and the King (4-18-14) by Megan Seaman

Flight

“You surprised me with your flight

At once brave

At once unforeseen

Each occasion you swooped down

To take what was yours

And deliver your sovereign message

“By sunlight, moonbeam, and star gleam

you shall see your destiny has already been seen,

will peak, and achieve in fortune’s amity.”

BALD EAGLE TOTEM

Tonight, on my way home from Yoga Happy Hour at Inner Bliss Yoga Studio I saw a Bald Eagle flying like 25-30 feet above my car. It came out of nowhere. I had my moon roof open and it was so close that I could identify it.

It was one of the coolest moments…it followed along in the same path I was going, and then began to fly south up higher into the distance. At first, I thought “wow, that is a big bird. too big to be a red tailed hawk and different coloring.” I could see it’s underbelly only at first, and the as it started to turn south, I could see its beautiful “bald” head. Wow. But apparently they’re seafaring birds…I guess Lake Erie is kind of like a sea… neato

AngelicShamanMinistry

ANGELIC SHAMAN TOTEMS

There exists a wealth of in depth richly explored sites, book references available to us all regarding totem animals and spirits ~ many of which we both have learned so much from along with our own personal life experiences ~ Instead of repeating much of the same information we decided to add onto what is already known about certain totems that we have personally experienced.

Aurora feels compelled to start with her very first Totem Animal that flew to her mother when Aurora was almost one ~ That majestic creature was a yearling Bald Eagle ~

Bald Eagle 

The Bald Eagle is a Sea Eagle and also the symbol for the United States of America. It isn’t actually Bald but named that for having a white head of feathers.

In Native American Cultures the Eagle is Sacred as a Spiritual Messenger one that delivers peace, fertility, honor…

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Little Red Heads by Megan Seaman

“Thick ice to see through only gives

Cool blue sheen

To frigid white blankets – chill

To the touch.

 

Beliefs that it was always that way

From birth, and as the small child grew

The blue sheen grew too

And darkened what was there.

 

Slow short steps still moved forward

Even through shaded hues

The claws of some unknown being

Reached out into the blue blindness.

 

Moonlight or some heavenly glow

Shined from a far off insight

And touched the edges of

The tangling thorns.

 

In the glimmer could be seen

Little red heads silky

To the touch

Tight in their winter sleep.

 

What could those heads be thinking –

Dreaming about” – Megan M. Seaman

Poem #98 (10-28-13) by Megan Seaman

“Dark waves seen only by the

Outline

Made from gold crests

That tipped with the ebb

After the flow.

 

Drifting for a century on

Water

Now calm and monotonous

Sometimes sea sickness

Set in the belly.

 

Dangerous to forget the

Possibility

Of land or ships or mermaids

Taking for granted the endless

Nature of swelling sea.

 

Decision to open eyes;

Heart

And hands. To begin to move

With any thought; a sign

To grab on to, hope.

 

Death is not harrowing to

Me

I believe it comes when

The soul has reached its greatest extent

And is ready to remove its veil.” – Megan Marie Seaman

I speaking those – I now silent (12-18-13)

Dream Doodle

“I looked at the reflection in the oven

I wore the dream, I heard the dream, I looked the dream straight in the face

 

Speaking of dreams you said it dimmed

Speaking of times passed way down and gone into endless oblivion

 

Those eyes they glimmered

Those eyes they beamed and pierced even through the complementary colors of the MAGazine

 

I wish on the lonely star shivering out there

I wasted my only breath on silly dreams of a silly girl unwilling to give up silly visions

 

Now here in the wee hours of stillness

Now there you are singing or something with clowns and circus performers of amazing feats!

 

Silent intentions small and secret hidden warm

Silent sighs to the soul who only answers, “someday, someday, someday…” by Megan Seaman

Mr. Wilson’s Thoughts Late Saturday Night (11-30-13) by Megan Seaman

“I don’t know where to begin. I asked the questions and no answer yet. Still waiting. I feel really gaseous. I just farted. I’m looking at the ember colored wall and have the Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young version of “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” in my head. I don’t know if it is CSNY or just Neil Young who created the song.  I think about this girl with glasses, this songbird, this creative soul about a million times a day. I keep wondering when she will call. And then even that question makes me sick. I feel, I think that I’m clinging to that idea – like clinging to a person. Like clinging to one person will make all my life happy forever. And I judge myself. So many judgments about how love is supposed to work, how people are supposed to notice each other, what kind of people date and get together with what type of people. And it aches my heart and makes me feel queasy inside. “Only love can break your heart/try to be sure right from the start.” Like one should try to control what love does to you. I once saw a clip from a movie I don’t remember what movie but a girl says to a guy that the most important thing to do in life is to fall in love and give your love. And the guy says, “no the most important thing in life is to get your heart broken over and over and over again.” That’s what makes life. I never thought about it that way.

I think we live in this ideal state – maybe it’s not we, maybe it’s just me – but we live in this ideal that we’ll find “the One” and then everything will be just dandy. And if it is already dandy then we’ll just be dandier. But if we follow the guy’s mantra “most important is to get your heart broken over and over again” then there’s a little more freedom in that. As if there isn’t one state of being, there are many possibilities – and to try them as they come up, rather than passing them by for some ideal. Not that I think people shouldn’t have ideals or dreams or goals or something to aspire to or some direction. On the contrary, I think that people do best when they have some place they’re pointed to and with effort and grace moving there. I think knowing what you want is half the battle. Knowing what you want helps you intentionally make decisions about how you want to spend your time, who you want to spend your time with, and where you want to be. It promotes motivation and perseverance toward something. However, getting so attached to some outcome (i.e., goal, aspiration, dream) can shift you out of the present moment where you need to be to see the steps that will take you to those ideals.

Keeping a wakeful eye on the future is so important, but even more imperative is our abilities to stay here-and-now. It’s really easy to say that, but harder to play out daily. That’s where the practice begins. Instead of being ruled by our feeling about what is going on in our lives, rather we could notice the thoughts – the habitual patterns of how we think, and then with intentionality choose the ones that bring us closer to our goals and release the ones that don’t serve us. Staying present allows us to see the signs, hear the songs, smell the roses, taste the nectar, and feel the closeness of everything we aspire to. On our journey to what we want, it’s the practice in falling down and getting our hearts annihilated that will Godspeed us to all that we dreamed. And so loving as long and wide as we can – even at the expense of a broken heart – might just break down the hardened walls around our love, and let the true self shine.” – Megan Marie Seaman

Shed this Skin (9-21-13) by Megan Seaman

the snarl for the end.

“Tangled hair once silken

Now brittle layered in

between oil and skin flakes

animal skin

flaking

flaking

mistaking

the snarl for the end.

 

She reached her fingers in

Toward the pit

and ran

them through

silk and mane

pain

pain

of skin scabby cracked surface.

 

The purpose of this dermis

And the shedding of matter

No longer needed

For her journey coat

Broke

Broke

Choked

on the matted hair that pulled.

 

Shed this skin

Shed this skin

Shed this skin

 

Voice, body, and soul whispered

 

Shed this skin

Shed this skin

Shed this skin” – Megan Marie Seaman