Category: { my poetry }

Daily Intentions

….a novel in process…

the book im working on….

I never intended to stay. This place, like every other devastated place, was to pass beneath my feet and be washed from my skin by day break.
With my face hard, eyes forward, aware of the heat, aware of the stench of death, of the sounds structures make when burning to the ground and collapsing amongst my preconceived expectations, I walked. I did not stop to look right or to look left. Experience had not dulled my senses but rather given me the ability to produce a response with less aggravated effort. A prefabricated reaction requires no actual feelings.

Dune had seen them, not I. He must have been frozen by his astonishment. Unable to understand why those eyes were meeting his amongst the rising smoke. We had been traveling together for near a year and never had we seen anything living besides one another. He fell from my side and I became aware of something new, something inside my conscious I had not known before.
Loss.
I turned for him, I turned to find him, I turned as not to loose him; and when I turned I lost myself. Before my hair could settle against my shoulders, I knew it was too late. The narrow ridge I walked in life had just escaped from beneath my feet.

“Dune, come.”
He did not turn his face. I took one step toward him in a direction I considered to be more like suicide than actual movement. 
“Dune….” I growled in my tone, “…..come here.”
He turned his face to mine, his expression becoming pensive. Tilting his head gently I watched his eyes investigate my features, checking mine against theirs no doubt. We’d seen a thousand faces like these, why was he stopping now, risking both our lives?

He barked a single tone. A tone that id have understood if Garr’s army took sound from my world, fore I would have seen the ripples in the air between us or seen that question is his eyes, asking my how I could leave my own behind?

“The are not mine!” I roared. My chest heaved up and down. My eyes watered no doubt from standing in this valley of smoke. We should be walking, we should be leaving. I clenched my fist and turned my heel, threatening to leave him, to leave my only friend. Dune did not move. Instead he lay down amongst the ruins and turned back to what it was he saw.
I turned my face as he had. I looked. A dozen faces. Eyes wide open. Soft human expressions. Their bodies propped against a smoldering building. Pale skin smudged with black. No blood. All dead. My mind locked and I could not look away from the last pale face.
Dune barked, and those big sad blue eyes that had fixed my gaze, on that tiny round face, shut so hard with fear that they knocked me to my knees. The very last limp, naked, dirty body was a tiny girl, perhaps five years in age, with golden curls salt licked to her cheeks, and she was very much alive.
She was not mine. Her eyes, that is why Dune believed it. She could not have the black blood that ran in my veins. I closed my eyes. My daughter, she would be nearly five. I shook my head as though to say out loud in a very silent way, that Dune could not see my eyes in this being. He felt for her, the same way he felt dragging me from Lewic river, and if I could have felt it, I would have said its name. But love, love is something I only understood as what had been taken from me. An emptiness that had no name.

The tiny hand rested on my wrist, trying to pull my hands away from my face. My mind still trying to understand how, why, she was left alive. Tregos are merciless demons, they do not make mistakes. They do not leave life in their wake. The small hand was joined my Dunes warm muzzle, pushing at my finger tips as I dug them into my face. Garr must have stopped the Trego, he was the only one with power enough to do so. But why?

Bait! She was being used as bait! And Dune and I were playing right into his plan!

Copyright @Cassidy Millar 2010-2014

she gets what She needs.

She lives in a place that she does not know.

We are consumed.

The humans scream.

She watches as they collect in tiny water droplet’s.

Catching,
suspended before they fall,
on her lavender petals.

How sad it must be.
She coos.
Watches them gently.

In a world she does not know,

She feels the fool,

When all around her screams certainty.

No,
they are the fools.

What is it that they know.
She recoils.
Hardens her approach.

In a world she barely knows,

she is humbled.

The rain falls, hard.

Her tears are not their reality.

The sea that emerges from her,
A tremulous ship could not sail,

No man would survive her.

In a world she does not know,

Surrounded by people that swear they do,

She cries.
Not for her.
Not for them.
She cries to be with the sea,

How she wishes she was the sea.

Fools.

News Flash

Have you ever felt like its someone else’s responsibility to give you what you need/desire? Thats because they embody/have the object of your desires/attainment/possession-mind, &this “having” & “having not” condition arises somewhere inside you & you feel they/”haver”, Have a Duity or a sense of purpose/accumulation totally dependent on giving what they have to others/you. This has happened almost every single time you have ever gotten upset for something not working out/going as planned. Isnt that so silly.

Teachers

Light Dragons

Tree Ornaments

saturday

Open air collapses. Right on time.
All planned misfortune. She rides
the waves. Finds a way to let go, resists
the urge to let this feel like dying. She
is nothing short of intensely alive. She
is hungry. To not hear her own voice.
She wants not to be alone in this choice.
She has faith that she is not alone here.
This ground, if she closes her eyes and
flattens her palms, as a herd of buffalo runs,
close enough to turn her bones to earth.
This is a very good place to see from.
She must learn to look, to observe in
tranquility, even as sand blows into her
eyes.
Love keeps this alive.
Do not provide a host for inferior influences.
-CassidyMillar xoxo

Daily tarot

Deadly Seven

The seven chief features in the Michael teachings.
(character flaw / ego defence / personality defect / stumbling block, whatever you prefer. )

Self-Deprecation (belittling/diminishing/undervaluing oneself)

Self-Destruction (sabotaging/punishing/harming oneself)

Martyrdom (reacting as if persecuted/victimised/oppressed)

Stubbornness (resisting change in one’s life)

Greed (selfish overindulgence, over-consumption)

Arrogance (inflating/exalting/overvaluing oneself)

Impatience (reacting as though being sabotaged/obstructed)

No Goal.

Ego Awareness Movement

Groundlessness

Groundlessness. Is there truely anything that needs protection? 99.9% empty space and my little self will tell me to search for security in this space and there is laughter from my higher heart, who’s floating commentary shatters the weakest of my intentions and in one eye I see the dust and in the other the space around this such. So why does my winged heart melt against the sun, break against the weight, die into infinity. Swirling. Mankind if I could open the mind and show you grey matter you’d say I’d found something solid. You may insist but you are me and I am you. So I know. I know. Doubt, the space between heart and mind. Divine without. Alive and untrustworthy. Plague. Riddled with your solid touchable sins. Chained with the key in your pocket all this time. Blind because you see darkness in light. If I could tell you of a world where your limitations look like imitations. Thats what they are my friends. I set a burning bowl within my heart and I feed these flames my rigid tastes. Today I burn for us, courage and groundless such. Namaste. Xoxo

Writing Challenge

{ a phoenix’s game }

….and there wasn’t anything as terrible to tell you, but how much it ached, how much would break, when you went away this fall….so I trembled and stood, as calmly as you would, while tiny pieces of my insides went down in flames. No matter, it’s a Pheonix’s game, and Ive had a burning heart since before our start…now its frost I fear my darling dear,
so go and get your coat…
-cassidy millar
{ xoxoxox }

Resentment & Forgiveness

Today I sit with my resentment toward humanity, my anger at the generations past, devoid of beauty, such brittle emotions. I sit. To honor. To Forgive. To compassionately Understand. To give myself Space and Time, Freedom, to be where I am as I am, shedding illusions. To melt my fear gripped sword stretched across your throat, to bring to knees my resenting self. The time, it is now.

xoxoxo

Image

{ write a book cassidy }

{ self }

She expected loss. How can one not, when one’s heart is locked away in a tower, a thousand miles west. Loss becomes a permanent vibration in a fool. Played on a banjo, with a tremble in ones voice. That tremble is what sealed her fate. She swayed like a linen, blow into a tree, stuck and shivering below force. Its amazing. The way spirit dies for love. I am humbled by those whom have made this journey with successful escape. She floats by. In a crashing sort of way. The paradox is inevitable, it is truly what keeps us human.
I asked myself, “How afraid am I of beauty?” “What matters most?”
And mostly,
“what the fuck is going on here?”
That just opens the can of worms though, opens pandora’s box so to say,
And then youre fucked. The street signs go away, the people start to act funny. You feel strange.
The golden butterfly pivots on the edge of doubt, she cascades beyond knowing, splendid with being, perilously spinning, beyond tall cedars, towards the ocean she flows. Unstoppable.
Then you make a choice. Follow or stay behind.
You look to your feet. Smile with the beauty of hesitation. Of defeat. Of self sabotage and love making. Everything that is beautiful here belongs now to the wind, and she breaks open her wings. You cannot follow a butterfly by foot, you must fly to be where she goes.
You must lose part of yourself to change. This is your fate. This is your faith.
Evolution. Trial with mistake. Growth with momentum. Time if you will. Space if you insist. Honest. 99% definable nothingness.
We are and are not what we create. You cannot define face.
Im afraid of losing myself, to an inevitable end, when loss is not the only true win.
There is a Para box sitting on my floor, staring at me.
She is humbled by her work. To find that dot, that tiny sphere, that is eternal goodness, the golden snitch within each one of us. Our work is not to capture it. The work is to grow it. To nourish life, to help life thrive. You have to get honest about what innocence and purity look like in true form. You work to understand the destruction. The heartbreak. You work to expand goodness. To open your heart. And you work for all of that which is alive. You honor and respect the power of your choices. With humility. Because you expand your sense of goodness. You do not replace “me” with “you”. You find common space, wholeness that surrounds your heart and fractures it to billions of divine sparkling specks. You fall in love with your world again. Enough to let it all go. You love your life enough to swallow it whole. Without Self pity. You get 20 minutes of self pity, then you sink that ship/t. You CAN. You can. You can! Because you understand your goodness, you understand the faults, and you make a responsible choice. You chose to heal your hurts. The work is expanding your goodness. Heal your hurts so that while you embrace another, you aren’t squeezing them between your love and a struggle. Heal your hurts, take your time, and be honest with all you love. What we love is fragile. Its transitory. Impermanent.

When I was a teen ager I spoke like a teenager. And this wasn’t to discredit the validity of my thoughts. I couldn’t talk like an adult or act like one. I would hide behind chairs if I was afraid. I would scream if I was scared. This is how we spoke. Shame is a truly elusive creature. We truly believe our opinions don’t matter to the degree of importance of spirit breaking. In English, we put others down for being themselves. We judge and shame other people because the difference scares us. And when we are judged and shamed we are horrified, we are mortified, we are all kinds of human things.
The work is to expand your goodness. To make responsible choices. The work is to evolve. From babies to children that dream, from innocence to experience to beyond, and hopefully right on into responsible, mindful, evolved adults. That don’t act like ostriches most seasons. When its convenient.
The shitty part is this is our fault. But not because we can’t agree. Not because we are children playing with life changing technology. Not because we aren’t brilliant. Not because we aren’t capable.
The work is the choice to be. Present. Honest. Willing. Kind to yourself. Gentle with yourself. So that you may expand your goodness, and your reach of kindness can heal other hearts. Naturally.
Deeper  intelligence =less mess
More mindfulness= less stress
1+1=2
2+3=5
Heal yourself so that you may love to your highest capacity. So that your wings are not weighed down.
Without shame of being who you are right now. Have the strength to stand up from where you are. Have the patience to be kind and mindful enough to meet yourself where you truly are. Let the realization of all your potential goodness be a light bent rainbow shield, that will protect you from your darkest places, that will be with you while light increases, that will stay even if a storm blows in and light simply is no more. The truth is, you can. The truth is,
We all need help.
This does not look like what is looks like right now.
We will cause pain while we grow. We grow like trees, our bark is weathered. Our form is strengthened and weakened by these grooves. What is vulnerability when it’s buried beneath ten years of heartache? To me it can often look like jealousy. Infinite possibility. Same variables, billions of combinations. We are all made from the same vibrations, set to different songs, beyond beyond.
Surprise, surprise, we all bleed red, it’s the oxygen.
xoxoo

 – cassidy.millar –