my muse

The best games and thrills are the ones where you let go of control. And the ones where two eternal familiars disguise knowledge of their acquaintance and convince themselves they are strangers. You search and find the connection again, not even knowing what you started off looking for. Once you repeatedly find her and are on to the game, then you start putting out the vibration that reveals you know. You find her hiding everywhere.

 

There’s no mistaking her presence when I alter my consciousness. However, the feminine presence encountered in an Ayahuasca ceremony isn’t necessarily the same monolithic energy, even with the knowledge that in fact she is the mistress of transformation. The manifestation of the feminine in ceremony consistently presents within the role of women in this created world and my life. The roles in ceremony are pretty much as advertised: maiden, mother, and crone. This division is found in the mythology of our heritage in the threefold nature of the Greek goddess Hecate.

I obviously identify the maiden with my soul mate because of the intense attraction which belies this connection. As the Goddess she is highly, nay I say insanely erotic, due to a resonance of the energy between us. There is also a mother who is nurturing and grandmother who is full of wisdom and healing. She appears in other forms as well; sometimes to terrify, enchant, or teach. I have also encountered her as a serpent and a jaguar; with the serpent representing the wave vibration that creates creation and the feminine jaguar being complementary to my masculine self. The mother is the mother of all and she is the one common to all drinkers of Ayahuasca.

 

I find her not only in ceremony but also in everyday life. She has always been in my presence although I couldn’t see it. I fall in love with her over and over again. The thrill of the chase and discovery is too strong. Giving in to the passion will satisfy the urge but the result is the flame will die out. We have played it out many times. There’s no escaping it so on we go, fooling ourselves into thinking we are strangers, perhaps fated once again to meet and fall in love.