THE ENERGIES FOR 2023: Psyche The Magical Butterfly


I’m not here,
I know you’re looking at a body,
I know you’re looking at smiling eyes,
I know you feel a presence that makes you feel good inside,
but it’s not me;
I’m gone and something else now grows
In that secret inner space left
So dark, so fertile, and so green

I don’t know what happened,
Maybe I prayed too hard,
And fell right through the line
Into the land of ancestors, right into
The womb of dreams. It’s not like
I’ve died, I’ve just said goodbye
To an old worried attachment:
I used to know things,
I used to live in a land of ideas,
(and now I nest in flesh, blood, and bone,
And don’t know a damn thing).

Consciousness is not the mind.
I am conscious, but I have no mind,
I look East and see distant
clouds, the mind goes on
With or without me watching it.

The Psyche is a beautiful summer butterfly, watch and see
Fairies of light dancing upon her yellow summer wings.
Don’t we all stand here together on this earth,
Sipping the same air, drinking the same water,
Leaving fresh foot prints upon naked soil;
And don’t all those tracks continue on back,
Weaving the tapestry of our shared past,
Telling the story of our same shared future Fate?

I stepped outside the other day
And saw billowing clouds of fear
Filling the skies, and I coughed on the pollution.
They told me another species went extinct
Yesterday, and that no one kept track
Of how many mothers got evicted
Today. And our politicians have their heads
So far up in some medieval past that the children
Don’t know if they have a future
To hope for.

Is this death or renewal?
The time of endings or beginnings?
Is it too late? Or are we just getting started?
Either way the tears fall and don’t stop falling,
But the heart is either
Cracking open or cracking up.

There’s this stuff out there called truth,
The whole universe is made of it,
You can’t miss it, and it heals
Every fear, every shadow, every sorrow;
It’s the hardest
Pill to swallow, it’s the easiest pill to swallow,
It just depends on you.

Truth heals everything because truth is Life.
It’s the light that awakens quivering cells
Under sun, moon, and stars.
Truth is not an answer, Truth is a Goddess
Who creates and destroys a million answers.
Your body is Her temple,
Her most cherished Dream ~
~ The cocoon from which Psyche hatches
And flies free. Psyche is a miracle,
She flaps her wings and causes a hurricane in Florida.
But you’re not psyche or a hurricane.

Wrapped in webs of either hope or fear,
Excitement or deflation,
Light and dark, aversion and attraction,
We stay too busy to see much of anything
That’s really happening here.

We pull apart the earth trying to find
One true reflection, we spend our most prized
Possessions on the finest quality mirrors,
But still see nothing of ourselves,
Nor of anyone else.
The valley of ignorance burns,
And we burn with it, doing all kinds of things that
We hold onto for centuries, with chords of regret.

Is this suffering worth it?
Tomorrow’s generation
Is knocking on the windowsill,
They want to know
“Should we enter this house?”

The great thinkers can’t add up or deduce
An answer for them.
But the sun keeps rising each day,
The butterfly gives birth
To more caterpillars.

Every footstep leaves a track and every track tells the whole story
~ past, present and future ~
But you and I are not the footsteps,
nor the tracks we’ve left behind.
We have made the footsteps,
we have left the tracks,
this is our creation,
but we are not the creation,
we are the creators.

Disintegrating in the cocoon,
Saying goodbye to all you thought
You were,
You find inside yourself a feeling
Of free flight through free skies
And everything in you
in a star burst
Of light.

And while the butterfly
May be able to create
hurricanes with those wings,
You create the feeling
That moves those wings to beat
In the first place.

With eyes open or eyes closed
You generate a wind that sends
Countless creations and generations
Forward, living and dying,
Dancing and twirling like dervishes
Into their sunset. This is the privilege
That has been given to you,
How you use it is entirely
Your choice,
Mother Earth and distant Galaxies
Conspired across impossible time and space
To give this to you.

Quite the gift, eh?

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