The Alien in the Family

This came out of our work together in circle, engaging in ceremony, working the Celtic Wheel of Ceremony. Poetry is helping me to process.

it is a feeling of gasping for air

these small returns

into a small corner of the crazy quilt

that has beautiful form

the repair of moth damage done

fresh silk worm weavings

this tiny corner of the whole

in the hole

that

resonates

as healthy family

what remains is the alien

that raises its harmed little head

now and again

in my being

an entanglement centuries old

but fresh in this present moment

when I connect with other people, reach out for connections, through little letters

to have it met with silence, non-acknowledgement

but then, also the acknowledgement

the difficulty in receiving compliments

after this declaration of wellness, wholeness, this arises,

to be witnessed

without judgement

in this

land of whole, and wellness

a relative friend

a great teacher

this alien, foreigner, haole

holder of harm

holder of curses and hexes and negative impression received

all that is counter to self-compassion

that takes one away from an awareness of the body breathing

that is the habitual tension held, stubborn, recurrent, a fixture

as permanent as the toilet in the house

but now and again, with chocolate,

with the sight of a cadaver,

comes this alien form, to be loved with no judgement

a sightless serpent with no scales

slimy and unforgiving

caught in the

The snarls of self-hatred

an alien implant that has made his/her/its

home

in this body

and we co-exist with compassion

in the light

without judgement

Yes, this could be turned into a delusion

this could be turned into paranoia

this could be turned into a distorted thought

this could be turned into rage outward and inward

this could become distored thinking

this alien, is from outerspace, other dimensions, nightmares even

But really

what is more true

are these are timeless bombs within

they have come about from very real human species interactions

humans who have had choice

and choose, consistently, to harm

in words, in deeds, in actions

in this lifetime

in our ancestorsʻ lifetimes

other places and spaces

and when there is this flow against the conscience

the self-hatred brews

for the tasty acts that cross the lines that werenʻt meant to be crossed

all alive in the present moment

seeking to be transformed

and so it is – transformed, in the simple naming of it

the intending, to let go

of the things difficult to look at

because they are an attachment

to a caregiver whom you once loved with a fierce love

devotion, and dedication

who was filled with self-loathing, and self-hatred of this harm, this taste

passed on by the ones before filled with self-loathing and self-hatred

an ancient, ancient, ancient beast

not an alien

but family

the human family

out of synch

out of harmony

a washing machine tumbling and thumping

dirty clothes out of balance

unable to make their way to the rinse cycle

but whirling and spinning in a perpetual muck

a belly that is never sated of muck

it only asks for more, once the taste of harm

this sickly sweet pleasure has been tasted

creating cravings

for more, and more, and more

greed, power, harm, war, slavery, thievery, addiction

so, this thing called alien, I now call, teacher

this entanglement, this tension, this energy to hold back

from giving in to this taste

shall we give this taste to the universe?

Yes, we give this back to the universe, and thank you for upcycling it.

the angels and guides and guardians escorting it all out with great pleasure

the tight ball unwinds

the energy is freed

unzipped from labels

Let this part of me be placed in the universal donation bin

but also

back to the ancestors, all the way back, in a sit, and ask, once it is in the lap of the first transmitter, what shall we do with it?

Simply change its diapers

plant it in the earth

let the rain water her

let the sun shine upon her

let her hunger no more

let the simple things in life

be enough