Tag Archives: writer

Poetry By Jeff & Amber {1} ~ The Dance Dances A Life of Its Own

Disguised within
the might of words lies silence
that speaks
inwardly, with
a spark reserved for the rendering
of our collective hearts.
Beneath
the surface,
the
words we ink, spill our surrender into authentic seeing
between
the spaces in momentum being, created inside that expanse at your center.
Be clear, my dear,
the way of opening is already
here,
just take a look at those concepts
you hold close,
transcending
into non-dual consciousness,
meaningful
and meaningless abstractions superimpose.
One on top of the other,
in a dance of mutuality and
complete singularity, so
breathe in deep, be silent,
and let those words go.
Do not mock a pain you have not endured,
you walk in shoes of yours
to express into words
the meaning of experience you chose,
once adopted these concepts we call words,
live a life of their own, dancing from within to the
page in a steady stream of consciousness
via the law of attraction, instead of simple reaction.
Reflected in the multifaceted mirror,
scattered fractals of the all,
squeezing the essence of awareness into our scripts,
fear not your own beauty in your creations,
for the dancer creates the dance to be danced.

~By Jeff {JeffFlesch} & Amber {DiosRaw}

~If you’d like to collaborate, feel free to find my email on this blog’s connect page.~

Short Stories {7} ~ Ego Delusions Amongst The Dogon

Amonst the elders of the Dogon Tribe in Central Africa a flurry of discussion was held by the Adrinki Tree, the main point of conversation within the community. The Dogon (or Kaador, Kaado) are an ethnic group indigenous to the central plateau region of Mali, in West Africa, south of the Niger bend, near the city of Bandiagara, and in Burkina Faso. The population numbers between 400,000 and 800,000.

Boko was watching from a distance within his hut whilst his mother was preparing his morning meal of goat’s milk and beans. Arrogantly he shouted, “Mother, when is it ready? I have to go and play with Hurani by the Adrinki tree soon once our elders have left this morning’s meeting.” “Boko, watch your manners, what have we taught you? Lord have mercy on us,” softly uttered Boko’s mother hurrying to finish her task. “Mother, you must make me this meal, I have to go, you know what, I will go hungry, since you cannot play the role you are supposed to,” Boko replied angrily. Boko ran out of the hut with his eyes still fixated on the elders by the tree. Boko’s mother tutted and mumbled words under her breathe.

Tribal elder’s noticed Boko run through the newly planted flowers without a care, he was to focus on this morning’s talks. “Boko, come,” a wise elder voice sounded. Boko stopped in his tracks and turned around sheepishly knowing what he had done.

“Boko today you will go with Narabi into the desert, you will find what you need there,” spoke the main elder. “Ok, but I was-” Boko churped. “You will go with Narabi,” the elder said sternly. “Yes, I will go,” mumbled Boko hesitating. Boko was itching to play with his friend and had no regard for finding what he needed, he knew everything he needed to know and that was that.

The hot desert sun made Boko’s forehead drip sweat onto his cloth dressing whilst flies bothered him, swatting his hand back and forth above his head.

“Ego is a formation of our identity crafted through our life experiences, the name we are given, the things we have been told about ourselves and who we believe we are. The God within us is who we truly are, the ego allows us separation to experience this incarnation and with a healthy ego, knowing who we truly are, we can flourish,” Narabi spoke whilst walking to collect water from the water hole nearby the village, they had followed a track into a clearing. Elephants, zebras and eagles went about their dharma seeking out nourishment from the heaven in the desert. Boko contemplated Narabi’s words, chewing his bottom lip.

“So, what I have created is not real?” shrieked Boko. “Yes and no, you see the ego is our sense of self; it is the illusory “I” story we carry around in the world as an evolutionary survival mechanism. Yet the ego is the source of all our suffering and our feeling of being separated from that which we truly are which is boundless, whole, and infinite. We might call this Spirit, God/dess, Life, Oneness, Consciousness, and so on,” replied Narabi twisting her braids observing and collecting water in vases for that night’s ceremony which Boko had yet to discover.

“So the more ego-based we are, the further we are from the Light of Consciousness which goes beyond the self? And if residing in the ego equals a disconnection from the Divine, living from a place of ego-centric God Complex goes one step further: it is like living in total darkness – the very definition of hell?” questioned Boko patiently awaiting a reply. “Father, was right Narabi, I have been silly and childish in my ways.”

“When a person is living in hell, they will harm others. This is basic knowledge that even a child like you can understand. When there is a total absence of light, there is only darkness – and how can a person see clearly, feel clearly, think clearly, or behave clearly in such a state? The result is suffering, both for the one experiencing the God Complex and those unfortunate souls around him or her in the village,” reasoned Narabi with her strong and wise words, an elder female within the Dogon tribe who Boko took seriously as she was the mother of wisdom, the nickname the tribe had given her affectionately.

Boko excused himself, thanked Narabi for her help in understanding the ego and ran through the village back to his hut and squeezed his mother tightly and didn’t let go. “Boko, what has come over you today? Are you ill?” Boko’s mother spoke. “Mother, I love you and apologise for all my wrongdoings, I have learnt, I am not my ego, I am the divine encapsulated within this body. Mother, I found something today and that is my true self,” whispered Boko still clinging to his mother. “You know Boko, you know,” smiled his mother with joy.

That night, under moon-lit savannah, the Dogon tribe initiated Boko under the Adrinki tree into the ascended ones and began Boko’s journey on the path of love, truth, knowledge and wisdom. For one day, Boko would be teaching another version of himself in another under the very same tree.

The divine disguises itself in us all, clothed in many dresses, yet the ego is naked, the true seat of self is the all, the fraction of the fractal within us all.

~DiosRaw 06/04/21

Short Stories {6} ~ A Prostitute Walks Alone At Night, Authentic Love In Bavaria

Young prostitute Maria walked along her usual path in the dark waiting for truckers who stopped overnight by the highway in the underpasses of Bavaria. Sex was all she knew how to do well, the kind of mind numbing sex, empty and void of true love. Stumbling, slightly delirious from all the drugs she had taken that night in a techno club where she worked night after night racking in the cash she desperately needed to keep afloat, to pay her rent, to feed her drug habit; Maria spotted a trucker in the distance.

The trucker’s lights turned off, pitch darkness surrounded Maria, her shiny belt holding up her short skirt glistened, reflecting the one street lamp a long way down the desolate highway.

“Hey baby, wanna have some fun, I’m Maria hunny?” Maria giggled leaning over the tracker’s door. “I will make your night’s stay here worth it.” Maria bit her lip seductively, she had done this routine before as the light’s inside the vehicle lit up.

Little did Maria know, this trucker was not the usual type she fornicated with each night in the early hours, she was too intoxicated to see clearly. “Prostitution and drugs, numbing the pain, huh?” Said a wise husky male voice. Maria stumbled on the sidewalk curb and fell backwards hiting her head, knocking herself unconscious, unaware of all happenings around her.

“Hello Maria, I’m Phillipe,” soothed a wise elder man working in a community in the forests of East Bavaria. “Maria, you’ve been unconscious for three weeks, you fell on the highway curb and hit your head. Here, we have been doing healing on you, we have shamans here, healers. I know you have heard of us.

Maria gasped, not only at her embarrassment of her situation, but she remembered this man who she tried to entice. She could not speak, she was utterly confused.

“Maria, shamans here have cleaned up your aura and your addictions, they have worked closely with their spirit allies to cleanse your soul,” explained Phillipe. “You are clean Maria, not only of the drugs you were using, not only of the sex addiction due to your severe trauma and abuse when young, you are also in a safe environment now. Here, where we are, is a community of good people living in the wild living a natural and pure life. True love is not looking for God within men or drugs, it is when you have found yourself, when you are whole and two souls come together.”

Maria understood all Phillipe was conversing to her, she had spiritual awareness from a young age, not only did she see ghosts but she could also forecast the future, claircognizance. “I understand, yet I cannot quite digest all this, it is too much. I don’t have anyone, I have no possessions or life and here I have come to a place I have seen in my dreams all my life. Am I dreaming?” Maria pinched herself and felt the burn within her skin. “Thank you.. Just thank you.. I.. I.. Wow, I have never felt so good.”

“What is true love?” asked Phillipe to Maria bluntly. “I have not experienced this,” retorted Maria.

“Love, true love, is when two are whole. Spiritual love is a love rooted in a spiritual connection that helps us find meaning and purpose in our lives. These spiritual loves can serve different purposes: some are meant to walk with us through life, while others are meant to teach us lessons. True love is ultimately single hearted devotion to God and having unflinching trust in this cosmic intelligence. The trust must be so strong that no one and no circumstances (no matter how much debilitating or lucrative) can sway you away from this. To love a person unconditionally is key here, often said yet a different pill to swallow,” Phillipe said clearly taking a moments breathe.

Maria could not resist her impulses, she looked deep into Phillipe’s eyes, intuitively she recognised his doors to the soul from a past life.

Maria spent months working with shamans to learn how to use her natural abilities to heal and went on to become a medicine woman who attended to people coming from far and wide to bathe in her newfound light and auric glow.

Tantric love making in the camp occurred night and day between Maria and Phillpe in the months ahead of them, falling in love with each other’s soul. They both had not ever felt such a magnetic pull between them. Although Phillipe was much older and wiser, he could not resist Maria. Soul age not human age formed their relationship. Maria learnt what true love was and Phillipe enjoyed Maria’s sexual talents in their hut by the lake, love making was never boring to them both. Maria and Phillipe could express their true sexual nature’s with eachother. Maria bore two children and forever was entranced by Phillipe’s kindness and life saving gift, now free of her past karmic lessons through her purgatory initiation.

Real love is a soul connection, two people who love themselves, joining and merging to become one with the divine.

~DiosRaw 05/04/21

Short Stories {1} ~ River Ganges Insanity

Washing off the days reminants within the womb of the River Ganges, in the ancient lands of India, a young lady named Anadi, combed through her dark black locks wishing she had fulfilled her guru’s daily tasks. Worried reverberations tensed her worn out body.

Anadi’s guru had instructed her to contemplate by the serene waters edge on the concept of enlightenment. She was trembling at the thought of going insane. Throughout her journey on the path of enlightenment she had visions of past lives, angelic beings, prophetic dreams and doubted herself, were these visions true or a figment of her mind turning her insane?

Observing the river’s candles lit each night floating along the river, Anadi realised in her mind “for the mystic swims in the same waters as the insane.”

Guruji initiated her, “you have understood the point.” Painting an orange hue on her third eye she became one of Guruji’s enlightened deciples.

“Yes,” Anadi proclaimed.

Anadi was no longer afraid of turning insane, she realised that insanity and sanity are part of the duality of this dualistic world. By using her mind towards the creator, and only him, she would return to sanity through the insanity she was so worried of.

As she lit her candle, with empowering energy flowing throughout her physical vehicle, silently whispering a prayer her body aroused from the dream of the dream she was living in. In the hypnotic state she was in upon waking, she had met her dead guru in her dream reassuring her she was not going crazy.

That very young morning, when everyone was asleep and the birds were churping their morning symphony she said her daily blessings by the river Ganges. “For I am sane in an insane world” she echoed through the nearby caves.

“I have travelled through madness to find me,” she screamed.

Madness is somewhere between chaos and having a dream. Anadi made sense of the dream by plunging into it and moving with the dance. For those who did not hear the music, those dancing were deemed insane.

And the world kept on spinning and weaving it’s cosmic web…

~Amber, DiosRaw 28/03/21

~About The Author, My Story: Amber, DiosRaw~

Here is my blog’s new “About The Author” page.

Quotes {1} ~ Distinguishing The Truth Within

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.” ~ Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov