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About the Muse

Mystic metaphysician, journeyer, wayshower, writer, artist, quiltmaker, harbinger of light, intuitive counselor, channel for Grace.

Pieces of Paper: Flower Essence Practitioner, Massage Therapist, Consultant in Sacred Contracts & Archetypes.

Bitch. Harlot.  Ratbag Muse. Preceptor. Vibrational Healer. Warrior. Advocate. Crone-in-Training. Archetypal Cosmologist. Peanut chucker. Boat-rocker. Cat slave. Stable mucker-outer. Urban Shaman. Star whisperer.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”  

“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
Steve Jobs (1955-2011)

 

May you be defined by your clarity

Glass half-full?

Glass half-empty?

Just drink…

The God’dess will fill it up again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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4 comments

  1. Re your post about a laughing god, Plutarch notes that the legislator Lycurgus erected a statue to Laughter in Sparta. In ancient Greece, the god of laughter is typically Dionysos, and his retinue of satyrs and sileni certainly figures replete with gelos.


  2. You are invited to help to form what we continue to become:

    http://groups.yahoo.com/group/seerseeker/

    gypsy hand

    Too brite days
    midnights that refuse to
    abide dark and secret
    as empty phrases chant
    to fairytale Moons
    I tell myself
    This is no ordinary room
    This is no fleeting flittering life
    This is a magical passageway
    sparkling like mica, like miracles

    Quiet traces
    luminous impression
    a trailing kite tail binds
    silent whimpers, sojourning whispers,
    tears shining behind mime smiles

    Crone’s gnarled fingers, playing
    to spite agony
    simulate touch
    beyond ache
    Too brite cell,
    crouched scarred shadow
    I cast silhouette of metamagic gypsy
    hand
    offering

    Laurie Corzett – libramoon42@mindspring.com
    http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com


  3. In case you haven’t noticed: I am no longer working this blog. It has come full circle.


  4. Regards for this post, I am a big fan of this website would like to go on updated.



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