I am clear and ancient knowledge, tested and proven, wrinkled but strong, slow but solid. In my eyes, the faces blur into each other, the boys are men, the men are corpses, the corpses give shade and my forehead is burning in the sun, as I look at the boys once again. Without any need of word or exclamation, I know of the singular impulse that runs through all the ones that now run around me. The tall man that is my mirror. The young girl that is my hands. There is so much I could say, so many tales to tell, so many burdens to unravel. But my years have taught me silence and my silence has turned into silky glimmering music, the kind that slides away between the chirping of the birds and the creaking of the branches in the wind. With a smile, I rush into their chest and push open the doors that remain shut in their stubbornness. With a little laugh, I can pull out tears from the most stoic warriors. I have traveled beyond words and I live in the land of shadows, without fear, without pity, without shame.

The Ritual begins before it starts.
It begins at a different moment for each of us.
It’s like making love with a new person;
you have to find this particular rhythm, this particular night.
 For some, the beginning involves the costume and the mask.
For others it’s claiming the space; walking the perimeter, focusing.
Lighting candles.
Welcoming guests.
 All with a sense of something coming. Vaguely dreading its arrival.
This night there is a play of opposites;
dualities,
mirror images.
Disquieting videos,
disquieting loud music present throughout.
Energy pulled into space.
Played with, amplified.
Identities fused.
Masculine and feminine integrated.
Pairs.
Triads.
Connection.
Transfers of substance, increase in energy.
Music as fuel, people as keys unlocking space.
Convulsive movements.
Forgetting of self and lack of sensation in the physical body,
all normal in this place.
Out of bodies and through doorways of opportunity.
Opportunities to push through your own barriers.
Opportunities to connect on an essential level.

(September, 2005)

Birds and serpents.
Transdimensional gateway.
Transfigure, transform, transfix.
Hail to the fallen, the mortal gorgon.
In flesh we find new doors.
Beautiful and horrible.
Fragmented to create the possibility of life.
To move, to dance, to live.
A point in every direction is no point at all.’
Creation is separation.
Separation is Death.
Hail Metus, living blood of the most ancient.
Alchemical priestess.
Embodiment of dark wisdom.
You who are your own birth and death.
Corrosive to one, restorative to another.
Goddess, woman, monster.
Forbidden sex.
Transdimensional gateway.
Hail to the fallen,
the mortal gorgon,
Medusa.

The labyrinth is this…it is this life- this experience in the body. The voyaging Being uses the machine to navigate through the labyrinth. The labyrinth is all around, all encompassing, and mostly invisible in the sleeping state. Driving down the street, one decision to make a left turn is a path, a new doorway with infinite possibilities ahead- the impulse to stop at a coffee shop is another.
We cannot travel in all directions at once. Only one path can be voyaged at a time, and each action takes the Being up or down, to the right or to the left- through time- in the multi-dimensional labyrinth.
Just imagine a vast labyrinth, with its multitude of choices, its many paths spill forward with promise. But the place you want to get to is the inner courtyard- you cannot just hop walls- the path must be walked- and sometimes when it seems you are descending- seemingly far away from the goal- it is because you are walking a non linear path which may ultimately bring you closer to the heart.

"...your ancestor did not believe in a uniform, absolute time. He
believed in an infinite series of times, in a growing, dizzying net of divergent,
convergent and parallel times. This network of times which approached one
another, forked, broke off, or were unaware of one another for centuries,
embraces all possibilities of time. We do not exist in the majority of these
times; in some you exist, and not I; in others I, and not you; in others, both
of us. In the present one, which a favorable fate has granted me, you have
arrived at my house; in another, while crossing the garden, you found me
dead; in still another, I utter these same words, but I am a mistake, a ghost."

It’s a story that travels in circles.
I remember you, I struggle to be free of you,
I see you coming to redeem me again.
I lack the control to decide which it will be in any given space. 

When I am aglow with pure love I am a beautiful care free maiden.
When I resist, I become monstrous, clawed and toothed, with an indiscriminate bite.
 
As I return
to the life electric
I take the shape
of a mad old woman
 
cackling and bending in the street,...
babbling incoherent truth. 
 
All the heavens
and all the hells 
that I have visited
in my various shapes, 
I have visited
accidentally. 
  
Unable to man my ship,
I arrive wherever the change wind blows. 
I kill you in this play,
love you in that,
give birth to you in another,
on and on.
 
When I do remember,
that too is an accident.
As an accident
it is no more beautiful
than when I forget.
   
What is beautiful
is the moment outside of the fold,...
that place
where I am
another you,
where puppet
and master
and stage
are the holy trinity
and the circle is enlivened by purpose.

While traveling, somebody stops and asks me:

-Who are you?
-I am Nobody. Who are you?
-I am None, Nothing, Nowhere. There is no more. You’ve reached the bottom. Stay for a while.
-No, I don’t want to.
-I am telling you, stay.
-I don’t want to, I am scared.
-Don’t be scared. After all, you have nowhere to go, no one is expecting you.
Whereas, I love you. I will give you all my silence and solitude. I am gonna make it yours.
-No, I am telling you, I am scared.
-And I am telling you, don’t be scared. I am for you.
-Who are you?
-I am you.
-No, no way.
-Yes, still.
-That is, I look like you.
-You don’t just look like me, we are the same.
-And so, who are you?
-I am Nobody.
-And then, where are we?
-We are in Nowhere. But don’t be afraid. I am gonna hold your hand and little by little we will find the way.
-You think?
-I am certain

Oh the earthly one had her plans for the tree of life.
From it she would fashion a bed in which she could sleep and a throne from which she could rule her terrestrial kingdom. She turned her eyes from it to allow it to come to fruition so that it could be harvested to yield worldly delights.
There was another use for it however, and while the earthly one was away a conspiracy of the life electric was hatched.
When earthly one came to claim the tree she found the clear seeing dragon coiled around its base. The earthly one trembled then because in the face of a dragon her pleasures would melt like dreams in the mornings rays.
Looking on she saw that her claim was even further disputed, for the maiden that steals light had taken up residence within the trees center and with such befitting neighbors the fierce and radiant Zu bird had made its nest at the crown of the tree.
This trinity prevented the harvest of the Halub tree as the earthly one dared not touch them. Instead the conniving whore of the world enlisted the help of a mortal man. He killed the dragon sending the one who steals light into exile as a demon of the night. The Zu bird was then forced to take flight.