No Water For The Wolves

Lying in the silence. All is black around me save my phone and wifi light. And all I can think about is how my mother’s death is stirring in me an even greater fire and resolve to be living light. I want my light to shine into the cosmos and to be a home to every human without exception.

I want to be….wide, long, deep, tall, ever expanding light, warmth, and peace and safety.

I want my table to extend into the nations.

Where there is light people feel seen, where there is light there is clarity, there is life, there is strength, and hope.

In a world filled with humans who despise what they don’t get, fear what they can’t understand, and murder either with their thoughts or hands those who are divergent…..I want to be different.

Love is beautiful anarchy

Light is the epitome of rebellion against darkened understanding

Brilliant bright light so the world can see
Recklessly loving us all into anarchy

While the planet is threshed wheat from tare
I’ll gather and glean to me those in despair

It is enough for those standing accepted in the sun
To carry the status of a chosen one

I’ll cast my lot with the vagabond parade
I vomit at the charity of pretentious charade

Babylon, Babylon, can’t you see she’s imploding?
Or are your ears deafened from your own gloating?

Superiority, elitism, white washed graves
Their throats lie open like wilderness caves

But they won’t catch me or mine
Unbeknownst to them we are made of brine

And, I refuse to give them water…

The Surest Compass: A Mourner’s Song

Through the canopy of humidity and trees
The sunlight shines and seems to beckon me

From the moss covered wooden bench I lifted my gaze
Unsure how long I’d sat in a heated daze

A hawk crossed the opening as I looked to the sky
A helios portal just wide enough I could see her fly

My eyes burned from my briny forehead drip
As sweat beaded upon my upper lip

My heart beat slow but hard within my chest
As I wondered was it the hawk or me who arrived as a guest
On my journey I grew overwhelmed and had to pause to be seated on the path below
And From her flight path she saw my summer-flushed face aglow

It occurred to me in this moment we had arrived at the same place and the same time
There was a lesson for us both revealed in this rhyme

A profound revelation bubbled up from the spring of my root
The point had emerged from cocoon and was no longer moot

A matter became a lesson birthed from synchronicity
Progress on one’s path requires complicity

Comply with soul lest it leave you be
And follow your knowing like the wise growth of a tree

Rage against the dying of the pure light of innocence
Turn to mother nature with organic penitence. 

She will open portals amongst interwoven branches and limbs
Her winged messengers timing aren’t based on whims

The whole of the wild is a natural mirror
And immersed in its bramble we learn to see clearer

The irony of the ironic
Is the best medicine I’ve swallowed

It’s an antivenom kind of tonic
That breaks us free from what we’ve wrongly followed

The lesson wrapped rhyme is as simple as this
No matter your path the surest compass is bliss.

© Cozett Dunn July 10th, 2023

My Utopia Hyperopia: Midnight Poetry Musings

I write about what shakes me

I write about what shapes me

My writing has a quality that creates me

Ink on a page with blurry eyes I write

Blood of a sage with poetry as my rite

Didactic revelry I wallow in the ponder

Galactic hypertrophy I follow the wander

Utopia Hyperopia I orbit reticulum

My vision chiastic on the time continuum

I write in the retrospect of my newly dawned future

I had no choice but to change because I ran out of suture

My patched-up heart ripped by a shard of my pscyhe

The finality of its beat was redeemed by Nike

A winged goddess of victory I became

I now muse about the lore of my name

Gold poured into me and I became Kintsukuroi

Millennia from now they’ll be reading my story

I’m an Indigo child, a seed of the stars

Life bursts forth from my luminous scars

For millions of years I must have existed

My mind was needed so my soul persisted

After this venture in incarnation I will lay it all down

I may be human but I am not a noun

And after that I’ll tell about what shaked me and that which I shook

I’ll tell about what created me and that which I took…

© Cozett Dunn Dec. 11th, 2022

Science Is The Twin Flame Of Spirit

For nearly the entirety of my life I have spent my free time, my play time, contemplating life. How big it is. Why people do what they do. Why people think the way they think. Why people interacted with me the way they did. What does the future hold for the universe as we know it. What impact does the unseen have on the seen.

My childhood and adolescence was quite traumatic. Because of this my mamaw fiercely guarded my play and rest time. She knew that through her love and the therapy that only nature could provide I would have a shot at transitioning into a normal adulthood. Whenever domestic violence or some other drama wasn’t actively occurring she made sure that I was able to have that down time to sleep. Now, lots of sleep is nothing unique about the teenage experience. But for me prolonged sleep was imperative for my mind, emotions and body to recover from the stress of crises.

My senior year in high school brought a lot of change naturally. I was launching into legal adulthood, choosing whether or not I wanted to continue educational pursuits or take a break (I took a break), experiencing milestone events like prom, graduation, getting my first car, applying for jobs, finding my father on my 18th birthday, and of course surviving the overdoses of my mother. My senior year was so intense that I would often lie to my friends and tell them I was grounded just so I could stay home on the weekend to think about life.

As a child I would run barefoot from the house down the sloping front yard and to a pond where the cattle would gather to drink. I would first walk around the entire pond in the gray claylike mud looking for tadpoles. Nothing was more satisfying in those days than feeling the slick smooth clay of the pond to squish between my toes and see my feet disappear slowly into the murky waters as the tadpoles would gather around my ankles. I took those moments in slowly. Thinking about the feeling. The sight. What it meant to the tadpoles. Did they really flee in terror so quickly at my splashes only to return and gather unknowingly around the source of the splash?

The pond was spring fed and the spring was terraced with tiny waterfalls that eventually gave way to the opening of the pond. I would walk up into the spring to it’s very head and at its main waterfall (which hit at about the height of my knees) and pretend to be making medicines with some gnarly fallen limb from the woods. I would take my stick and jab through the top of the fall into the mud below. Think mortar and pestle. I would declare to my imaginary audience that I had just found a cure for whatever ailed them. After passing around my medicine I would go lay inside a circle of trees beside the pond and just look up at the sky for hours. Until I was either called home or found I would lay and look and think.

At the time of this writing I am 43 years old. I have devoted my life thus far to the pursuit of understanding why people think the way think and how the unseen impacts the seen. In thinking about how the unseen impacts the seen it is an inescapable thing at this juncture in history to think in terms of God. The concept of God. The understanding of God affects the thought lives of billions of people and for the atheist or agnostic they are also impacted by the beliefs of other’s beliefs about God. In short there is no escaping God. Even if you don’t believe in God you probably are in relationship with others who do and that absolutely impacts your reality, the justice you are able to receive by a legal system that is influenced by the belief in God, relational ethics and dynamics that are influenced by others belief in God. From sexuality to spirituality all these things are shaped by the concept of God whether it is a personally held concept or not.

Since 2019 I have experienced the hardest years of my adult life. I’m feeling disillusioned and disappointed. But, I’m discovering if it weren’t for my disillusionment I would have no chance at “reillusioning” a theory and philosophy that works for me. If not for disappointment I would have had no shot at being reappointed into a higher perspective. One that helps me finally to feel a level of self-assurance that will translate to my own soul how perfectly capable I am of relying on myself and trusting myself to be able to protect myself.

I am well-studied, well-versed in all of the major world religions and spiritualities. Not as an enthusiast. But, a genuine learner. I have been careful to take a scholarly approach to all things unseen, all things faith related. I’ve always intuitively felt that the intangible held the keys for a humanity who can holistically understand the world and people around them. And through that I, we, could form a sure scaffolding for a reliable hope.

As I’ve researched the world’s major organized religions I have observed the following:

  1. Each one subscribes to a main, male deity who feels insulted if other gods are adored or seen as powerful or wise. Monotheism. But, how can monotheism be monotheism if the “the” acknowledges that there are other gods? Thou shalt have no other gods before Me, yes? Then it follows that there are in fact other entities, other gods by the admission of the deity who says it’s wrong for any other deity to receive adoration.
  2. Researching as far back into recorded history as is humanly possible we understand the earth’s oldest spirituality is Hinduism. Hinduism is polytheistic but still features male deities as the ultimate gods to whom everyone is an emanation of. Hinduism, however, does at least teach that these male gods have female counterparts, or female energetic expressions that should be equally worshipped since they understand that masculine energy is incomplete without the feminine.
  3. In mythology which served as a religious context for many in the ancient world we see that our collective, those before us, were immersed in a world of legends held to be truth or fact. The stories of Zeus, Calliope, Cupid, Achilles, Aphrodite, Venus are all so fantastical that those of us who cut our teeth in western thought and the allopathic treatment of the intangible almost lack the capacity to believe in the unconsciousness from which they all sprang to be dealt with by the conscious. Demigods? Absolutely real. But, wait that concept is also echoed by Jesus in the NT of the Bible when He boldly declared to the super religious of his day that….”you all are gods.” Incarnated wisdom. Incarnated goodness. Incarnated creators. This is what we think a good God should be. Wise, good, and tirelessly producing.

In the last several years I’ve found the answers to many of my nagging questions about life in quantum physics and the study of metaphysics. As someone who was raised in a southeast Tennessee Christian context I was acutely aware of the history of Christians balking at science. At one time, not too long ago Christians would kill any other human who thought the world was round. The church regarded this teaching as a point of major doctrine and anyone who opposed that thought was deemed a heretic and punished accordingly. I resolved as an adolescent to listen to science no matter what because to me, to walk in this world as a single-faceted human who only has the ability to disseminate ignorant rigidity concerning the intangible is an utter betrayal of the mystery that sent me to this planet. It would be a cosmic travesty and a coward’s journey for me.

As I sat with my observations I endeavored to honestly explore the implications of them. To the best of my ability I’ve tried to allow the observations all the latitude of God. Because if truth is found in God then God isn’t afraid of the truth. How can I discount one and exalt another simply because the one I choose to exalt tells me to do so? If you have only one dollar to your name and it is in your pocket and you are dehydrated are you going to spend that dollar on water or will you throw it in the trash because someone who seems more hydrated than you tells you to do it and do it with joy because joy is a virtue do you throw it away? In the same way I have chosen my wells and I hope you do too.

As I began to finally have a big picture developing I’ve been able to think through what the implications of this big picture mean to me and how I will allow or disallow them to shape my life and relationships and career and philosophy about life in general.

Every single belief we hold has within it an origination, an emanation, an elation and a declination. Concerning God I no longer have to understand origination because that is truly impossible to know. But, emanation is where I pick up the trail and follow out each belief to see what does this belief entail, how has it shaped the world and people around me, what did or will it look like when it reaches its fullest expression, and what will its declination look like, do I already see its declination, if so what does it look like and what are the implications of its decline. If it hasn’t happened yet but I can see it coming what are the implications of its decline for me personally, and what are the implications of its decline for my neighbor.

In short, everything, every deity, every belief, philosophy will at some point collapse back in to itself. It may resurrect or reassert itself again later or it may fall away completely and out of the reach of the annuls of history for someone like you or me to discover or know that it even existed. Oscillation and vibration is everything. Why? Because literally everything tangible and intangible is comprised of electromagnetic energy. My theology, my cat, the bird on my balcony, the poem in my heart that hasn’t been written down or recited for any ears. All oscillating and vibrating. The higher the vibration the healthier is that thing, person, animal, belief. If there is no vibration. No oscillation. Then there is death. There is no escaping that reality. Your body is made up of approximately one trillion cells. Every second your body is undergoing thousands of chemical processes to keep you alive. Thousands. Every second. Completely unaware your body is carrying out its assignment.

So, where does this position me? I am a Pisces. I’m a poet. I’m a philosopher. I’m an INFJ. I am a manifestor according to human design. I am naturally and now unapologetically a metaphorical and highly spiritual person. The disillusionment and disappointment over the years have once and finally threatened willingness to believe that if a higher power exists then it exists to protect me and cheer me on as I walk through life. I’ve spent so many days crying. So many days wishing I could gather together the most prominent spiritual leaders of every organized religion and major spirituality and screaming at them, “I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!!! I SEE WHAT YOU ARE SAYING. I KNOW WHY YOU BELIEVE THIS. BUT, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY THERE SEEMS TO EXIST ONLY A CHASM BETWEEN BELIEF AND REALITY. BECAUSE ALL TOO OFTEN THE BEHAVIOR OF YOUR ADHERENTS DO NOT MATCH THE BELIEF YOU HOLD. PLEASE PROVE TO ME WITH ALL YOUR WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE AND BEHAVIOR THAT YOUR WAY IS IN FACT THE BEST OR ONLY WAY. BECAUSE AS I STACK YOUR BELEIF AND YOUR ORIGIN STORIES AND YOUR PHILOSOPHIES AND PRACTICES TO OTHERS, WHO SAY SIMILAR THINGS I DON’T SEE HOW IT’S ANY BETTER OR SO UNIQUE THAT IT INDICATES YOUR BELIEF IS THE MOST ORIGINAL AND OLDEST AND THEREFORE THE MOST CORRECT AND SURE.”

I’ve sat with my unbelief. And I’ve realized that if I sever the part of me that is nourished by mystery and metaphor then I will kill myself. I will kill who I am at my core. So, in light of that I have deduced that my healing will not happen if I become atheist in an effort to cope with my hardship and confusion. My most sure path of healing will not include the world of mystery and metaphor but it will be my unique voice. My wilderness cry in a world that has no interest in deep listening. My voice is truly in a desert. It is dry and desolate here and in order to inhabit it you have to have a special skillset that many do not naturally possess nor are they interested in possessing. It’s quiet. The silence alone has born witness to my thought. And, it has been during my contemplation that I have concluded that spirituality cannot and should not be separated from what we consider reality. The gods have always lived among us. They have all at some point or another lived in us in the form of mysteries. Some people shake their fists at mystery because to them mystery is misery. It is a psychological plague. It removes their control and grip on their own understanding of life and as we have seen with the crusades this causes violence because it activates the bruteness and lower vibrational emotions such as anger, hate, superiority, elitism, etc.

As I meditated earlier today I decided, “I will no longer try to separate myth and mystery from science. When I read stories about how demigods came into existence, or how monks and nuns and mystics have levitated during prolonged periods of meditations, or how a scientist used the power of his mind to heal his own broken bones….I understand that the truth lies in the mystery.” Fact doesn’t have to be separated from fiction. Remember the chasm I mentioned? That chasm is space. Space between the intangible and tangible. Space between belief and practiced reality. Space. Did you know that an atom is 99.999999999% empty space? And, if you removed the empty space from the atoms of all people, the entire human race could fit in the volume of a sugar cube? Empty space where there is no obligation to believe a certain doctrine or dogma, empty space where there is no demand for decision, empty space that is completely and infinitely neutral, empty space like this should be inherent and integrated into belief system in the world whether atheistic, polytheistic, or monotheistic.

I came away from my meditation with this specific thought in my mind, “the mysterium, the mythology, theology cannot and never will be reduced down to simple calculation that is explained away by science. Science is the twin flame of spirit.” Little did I know only an hour or so later as I continued my study about physics that I would come across a quote by Nassim Haramein, a unified physics researcher and scientist. He said, “Physics without philosophy is lost in mathematics. You have to have a fundamental concept to write the math that works. And that is called thought, philosophy.”

Today my footing is more sure not because of hard and fast and provable science but because I am intrinsically rooted in mystery. I am found in metaphor. And I await science to discover me.

Yours in thought,

Cozett

This Clinging Life Of Mine: A Response Poem For The Divine

What is this clinging life of mine

But, a withering fruit grasping its vine

What was this grand purpose of which I was told

One that is rooted in the origin stories of old

Did my forefathers have no forethought?

My foremothers had no freedom of thought

What does it mean when the sun goes down?

The moon holds me sway. It is my crown.

Riding the beast in its scarlet facade

My condemnation an act of God

Why would I ever apologize to anyone who holds space for my destruction?

What is so wicked and deplorable as a love whose murder is their introduction?

You call me crafty and I call You vain

What type of glory warrants this kind of pain?

Where is the justice for Judas? And for the vessels of dishonor?

Specifically brought forth into life for the destruction of their souls and bodies.

If confusion isn’t Your authorship

And perfection is Your penmanship

Then why do those who read and sing of your love kill, steal and destroy?

Your people? They are pursuing each other with hatred now.

Just as Your Son said.

When life and grace regress into law there is only ever death and disgrace left to embrace

What is this clinging life of mine?

It is but a petulant pawn for the Divine

What was this grand purpose of which I was told?

I need it to warm my dark as I now feel cold and old

No gift of glittering gold

Nor calls to rise and be bold

Can raise me from this shroud

That you seem to have happily allowed.

The end.

Authentic…Unto Death

Sitting here in the dark, dimly lit bedroom I’ll soon never sleep in again. I’ve spent the last 20 minutes sitting with my chunky headphones on listening to, “Return to Innocence” by Enigma on repeat and watching Talia sleep.  I’m still processing the last 24 hours when she became suddenly blind.  If the past 3 years have taught me anything it is to slow down and spend prolonged time taking in the people, animals, and good memories made.

I stink, I’m sweaty and not even gonna shower before I fall asleep.  But, my Talia…she’s blind.  And, now I finally realize and regret my own blindness.  I’ve allowed everything and everyone to get in the way of me living my life in a more rooted way.  A more earthy way.  That’s all we really have you know?

A few years ago I read a web article about pet euthanasia.  The majority of pets who experience euthanasia do so in the company of the techs and vet and staff because it’s so hurtful to see your fur baby/child to transition in front of you.  And, that was absolutely my mindset.  But, a few techs and vets weighed in and offered an alternative perspective on pet euthanasia.   They all stated that while they completely understand why pet owners don’t want to be there to witness the event and that they will always respect people’s grief process,  they long to see more pet owners be present.  Pets have a very small circle of family and friends.  In the short span of their lives they will live in a home with family and friends who come and go.  So they may only know maybe 10 people give or take for their entire lives.  They never get a break from us, haha.  But, the thing is they never feel smothered and if it was possible they would stay within our shadow and by our sides every single second for a millenia.  Their love and devotion is bottomless, untiring, ever cheerful, ever patient, ever thrilled to hear our voice, see our face, smell our scent.  Whether it’s the first time they sniff you or the millionth time their enthusiasm never diminishes or fades, it only brings their hearts that much closer to ours.   They only ever love us more every day they’re alive.

When I read this a light went off.  Talia loves me with everything in her.  You can literally feel her love energy.  And while I am her #1 favorite human she’s like this about any human she’s ever met.  Instantly warm, curious, and gentle hoping for some affection and a new friendship.  She has never been scared of anything.  Loud sounds, thunder storms, shrieks of little ones playing or crying.

In fact when it thunderstorms sometimes she and I go out on the porch and I sit her in my lap and we watch the lightning and feel the rain spray in gently and coolly upon our bodies and faces.  When it lightnings I can see the spray on her fur and it looks like dew.

She intently looked up at the sky and followed the lightning streaks with her eyes.  Sniffing the wind occasionally for some wild scents.  Never flinching, squirming, or tense.  Relaxed, intrigued, longing to see what it would feel like up in the sky above her.  She is such a brave old girl.  Car rides?  She loves them.  Going for a walk on a leash?  Yes, please.

My constant companion whom has shown me much greater and deeper love than the majority of humans who have been in my life. 

Because of this I resolved that when the day comes if I am able to have any forewarning of her passing I will hold her in my arms and sing her her favorite lullabys.  I’ve reworded I don’t know how many songs to include her name and take her beautiful gentle life into adventure stories, sleepy time songs, and of course my doting love songs over my precious cat.  I will stay by her side just like she has mine.  My arms, hands, scent and voice, touch, body warmth and love….as much love as any human could ever possibly hold…my love for her will be the last experience she has here.  She never left my side and I’ll never leave hers either.  Ever.  I’ll be holding her and kissing her little knobby head and singing to her until she’s in the arms of the angels. 

Her gentleness is like her own cottony fur.  So tender and soft you can hardly even feel it touching your skin.  She’s so tiny.  At the time of this writing she weighs about 6 lbs.  She’s a bit underweight even though she’s small.   I’m not entirely sure what breeds she’s made from but she has a tortoise siamese colored coat and deep, dark blue eyes (that now look a bit purple in her blindness).  And she’s very short, low to the ground, haha.  And her little tail is short.  She’s built like a munchkin but has the coat and eyes of a Siamese.

Her little multi-colored paws look like they are ringed in caramel.  And she loves belly rubs.  And 99% of the time doesn’t attack my hand.  That 1% though….she’s got a streak.  I guess if she didn’t she wouldn’t have been able to put up with mine and Margo Holder s crap all these years, hahaha.  Margo often says that Talia is her spirit animal and believe me when I say, she is not wrong.

At any rate, beyond all of this the last 24 hours of her going suddenly completely blind has opened my eyes to something I’ve decided I want to do that will likely seem odd to more people than not.  But, that’s how I roll anyway.

I have deep regrets about not spending as much time with my family and friends as I’d like to.  I’ve allowed life to get in the way.  And if I allow life to be a stumbling block…what will that mean at death?

For many years now I’ve casually researched death doulas.  Most people don’t even know what a doula is much less a death doula.  Now, I’m not saying I want to be or am going to be a death doula by profession.  But, there are some facets of their work that I am going to implement where it’s appropriate and of course permissible.

I have decided that I want my heart to break wide open and hold my family and friends in my arms as they transition so that it is my hands, my arms, my energy, my truest and deepest love for them to be what they are enveloped in as they transition.

I’ve always been a lover.  A hugger…to the point of extreme and strange awkwardness. 

But,  how can I apologize for that?  And, for what reason should I reign it in?  Covid-19 wiped millions of people off this planet in the blink of an eye comparatively speaking.  And, not just Covid, but wars, disasters, political rhetoric that has risen to the point that brother is against brother.  I long for the day to see field upon field joined to pastures and woodlands filled with a great many more plowshares.  As it is, sheaths clamor and tremble longing for the bloodied blades to return again for fear of being found guilty before God as being accomplices.

Blood is crying out from the ground but we can’t hear it because the main stream has become the main scream and their volume has driven us to deafness.  Our ears dull and listening unskilled.  Our mouths boastful, arrogant and insisting on our own rights, or beliefs to be looked at as the pinnacle of truth even if it means the death of another human who doesn’t agree.

No.  This world isn’t for me.  So, from this point forward I’m going my own way.  I’m about to do everything in my life the weirdest and most unconventional way as possible. 

Life is valuable.  It is precious.  Sacred. Holy in its own right.  How could I betray it by living anything less than 1000% authentically to who I am, to what my level and intensity of love is like, to cleave to my own philosophies formed circumspectly and carefully?  How could I ever be ok with exchanging even the weirdest things about me in lieu of making myself more acceptable?   Life is too short for that.  It’s too brilliantly faceted for that.  I am committed to being my different self no matter what that looks like or who it may trouble.   Doing death differently…addressing the deeper, intangible components of dying and watching life transform as its vehicle weakens…is when you know you’re a catalyst and have just changed your own trajectory.  Forever.  I will never be the same after these last 3 years and it took my dear Talia’s blindness to open my eyes to the truth that it is in fact how life should be lived so that when we settle into the arms of death we will embrace it regretless and with the sense of an old dear friend who has come to pay a visit. 

I am different.  Unto death.

My desire is to be the most open, accepting, loving, heart-centered person you know.   And, if I can be that then don’t thank me or give me any accolades.  Thank Margo Holder, my mamaw, my nieces and nephews, my parents, my brothers, and my intimate friends.  Because it is them who have shaped me and shown me how weird love is, how unconditional it can feel, and the powerful relief it offers when you’re in the worst pain of your life.  We aren’t perfect.  None of us are.  And far be it from me to close my mind and heart to this human experience.

We are all walking miracles. Our pets included.

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