House Of Your Beloved

afterbathdegas

I am only the house of your beloved,

not the beloved herself:

true love is for the treasure,

not for the coffer that contains it.”

The real beloved is that one who is unique,

who is your beginning and your end.

When you find that one,

you’ll no longer expect anything else:

that is both the manifest and the mystery.

That one is the lord of states of feeling,

dependent on none;

month and year are slaves to that moon.

When he bids the “state,”

it does His bidding;

when that one wills, bodies become spirit.

Rumi

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Painting

Degas

Listen to the music

Awakening The Divine Feminine

ophelia-1889

Dear friends the Divine Feminine has awakened, she has risen, bloomed with the flowers of spring. I feel some explanation but not apology should be given regarding the change to the sensual tone in my blog. Spring has been abundant in my yard, the bees are pollinating, the birds are mating before my very eyes, the butterflies are in pairs, and nature is demonstrating its cyclic beauty.

The wonder and manifestation, I credit in part to my participation with the Chopra Health Meditation Challenge, the goddess sensual nature as part of the reemergence of the Divine Feminine Principle. I thought about not sharing this aspect of my romantic, poetic nature with you but to be authentic, I have decided to share, the unfolding of this new world.

The poetry of Rumi alone is deeply passionate, but combined with the classics nudes of Gustave Cobert…Oh Boy! So for now we will call this Mature Content.

Sindy

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The above is Ophelia

By: John William Waterhouse

Some Kiss We Want

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There is some kiss we want with

our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater

begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately

it needs some wild darling! At

night, I open the window and ask

the moon to come and press its

face against mine. Breathe into

me. Close the language- door and

open the love window. The moon

won’t use the door, only the window.

From Soul of Rumi

by Coleman Barks

~~~~~~~~~

The Source, 1862

Gustave Courbet