Category: Love

Inevitable Moments

There are these inevitable moments in life. Today I got word that a 3rd member of my family has died. My poor father is shaken with grief as this was his older brother. It seems there was a lot left unsaid. And, honestly I don’t blame that on either one of them. I blame it on life. This is the 3rd unexpected death in 9 months. To be perfectly honest, I began heavily medicating after the second one back in December. And, I don’t mean I’m staying high. I’m just taking a lot of prescriptions to hold me steady so I can still function mentally. I still haven’t regained my ability to walk more than about 1800 steps per day with lots of rest periods and that still carries a bit of repercussion with bouts of tachycardia at bed time when my body is trying so hard to recover from the strain of movement on top of the emotional trauma of the past year. My cat died, my mother died, I lost 2 vehicles, almost got evicted, had to move in with a relative because I can’t afford rent anywhere anymore due to soaring cost of living and I’m not able to work right now and won’t be able to for quite some while. I lost a younger cousin. The last surviving son of my elderly uncle. I can’t believe he lost both of his children and faces his elder years without them. I can’t believe me and my mamaw and brother have to face the future without my mother. There’s just so much. And, while I’ve said since 2017, “I can’t take anymore.” I do. I’m writing this because I’ve just taken so much more than I ever dreamed possible and still survive it. Granted, I have lost my mobility to emotional trauma and stress and I am heavily medicated and have packed on more weight than I thought I ever would. I have taken a toll. But, I’m here. Writing.

There are these moments in life that are inevitable. And it sucks when they all pile up together rather than being spaced out allowing time for recovery before the next crisis. But, here I am. Doing all the nervous system things, leaning on my friends, loving on my family, appreciative of the shelter, helping where and how I can. And, writing. Oh, I also made the Dean’s list at University and am about to publish my first book in about a week or so. All this during the hardest years of my adult life. And, I’m middle-aged and that sucks honestly. Because of the crisis I have not been afforded the opportunity to find the “finally don’t care” attitude that I hear women talk about when they get a certain age. I haven’t found the solidity women say they feel at my age because to walk in my world feels like the globe has been greased and I too have been oiled and walk on it slick and naked. Vulnerable and no balance. My world feels like a greased pole where the floor is lava.

There are these inevitable moments in life. And, when they come…you can’t pray them away, you can’t manifest them away, you can’t cuss them away, you can’t wish them away, you can’t science them away, you can’t psychology them away, you can’t religion them away, you can’t God them away, you can’t spell them away, you can’t gather an army of friends, family, or politicians to resist them or tell them to go away, you can’t write them away, you can’t therapy them away, you can’t spiritual them away, you can’t atheist them away, you can’t hide from them, you can’t run from them, you can’t deny them, you can’t sublimate them, you can’t pay them away, you can’t doctor them away, you can’t medicate them away, you can’t exercise them away, you can’t work them away, you can’t sleep them away, you can’t drink them away, you can’t starve them away, you can’t not see them.

But, you can allow your friends to love you through them, you can let your family hold you through them, you can let your cat or your dog lay on your chest and lick your tears as they fall. You can open your chest wide and accept that these moments are life too. You can acknowledge that your steps are in sync with the march of humanity and that your footfalls imprint the human continuum and whether it feels like it or not you are right where you’re supposed to be. You, me, we….are part of the marvel. The dynamic, diverse, prism that is humanity. One massive, non-congruent, yet deeply cohesive at the same time, collective unconscious, reflectively conscious, forging forth for a better day.

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Soulmate Romance

As I think through my concept of a soulmate, the first thing I think of is the emphasis on the word “mate.” For me, mate, means match, alignment, similarities, and therefore comfort. The soul component is the deeper part of our humanity that the majority of other humans do not adequately or accurately perceive about us. A soulmate, for me, would be someone who does see that part of me with clarity and mirrors back to me the profundity of what they see because that person shares many of the same qualities and perspectives and emotions of my own soul. That person can see me because they have seen their own soul, deeply. It is the element and degree of depth of their own self-awareness that is one of the greatest qualifying factors for me to identify with that person as a romantic soulmate.

As I’ve gotten granular on the semantics of the word, “soulmate” it has occurred to me that I’ve been too willing to accept men who do not match or align with me on a soul level. And, to be perfectly honest, and as I’m told by those closest to me, I am likely too deep for most and therefore unrelatable to a great degree. So, where is love for me? I feel like my depth very much limits my options. Added to that, my “niceness” has always given the impression that I can be treated poorly or not have my relational needs met and they can still have priority and benefit from my love of them. 

I think this post serves mostly as a precursor to an impending perspective and behavioral change. I don’t know what that will look like but if I could describe the emotion of what is gathering in this regard it would be more confidence, less tolerance of bad behavior for the sake of being flexible and making it work, and self-belief. I would say “glow-up” but I feel that term has become banal and I’m growing to despise it for that reason. The next several months of this year feel like they will be an unearthing of the “why” and the “how” I need to change my understanding and behavior of who I am willing to accept as a romantic partner. I think ultimately it will be a massive contrast in how I’ve always I’ve seen things pertaining to being loved. And once that change is done it will likely seem to others that it was like an overnight explosion that completely changed my emotional landscape and personality aspects. But, I can intuitively tell that for as profound and impactful as it will be it will be a process of gentle erosion. One that my body can keep pace with and not one that will cause further non-congruence in my soul. Because it is those non-congruences I think, that are creating the disparity between who I desire and who I actually attract.

Cheers to self-discover, shadow work, and the romance of the soul.

Cozett Dunn

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Cozett Contemplates Being A Healer

You used to be so nice~ It was because I was afraid of the implications of displeasing you.

You’re so strong & such an inspiration ~ It’s because of my survival instinct and because I’m naturally a good person

You’re so brave~ My nervous system would no longer allow me to tolerate the confines of the box people wanted me in. It was either tear it apart or continue to betray my emotional well-being

You must be an empath~ I’m hypervigiliant. I’m highly attuned to the energy of others because I was traumatized as a child.

As a trauma survivor you find yourself on a continuum. There is a linear space, thread, that runs from your childhood, into your present, and reaches out before you in the time to come. Like a train track you can stand on any point of it and feel the vibration of the train whether its behind you or has passed you. It doesn’t matter if you can see it. You can still feel it its vibration. Its energy.

As if in a dream, you find yourself experiencing an alternate reality than that of those around you, and you’re constantly teaching yourself what’s real and what’s not, what to hang on to, and what to let go of.

People who have experienced emotional trauma have brain changes, similar to those who have had concussions.

Emotions, feelings, are so powerful they can physically reshape the structure of your brain and thereby color your reality. Thankfully, neuroplasticity is a thing. But, healing is something that needs support and takes work. And while the trauma isn’t your fault you are the one who will have to take the responsibility to heal what you didn’t harm. That feels unfair and is traumatic in its own sense.

This is why its imperative…..to not feel like you have to be nice to everyone. Because everyone….isn’t supporting the healing of your brain and nervous system. Everyone isn’t guarding your heart and prioritizing your well-being or creating safe spaces for you or trying to understand the decisions you make.

In fact, most people aren’t critical thinkers. For many it’s never occurred to them how they could make the world a better place by looking through the lenses of others and a lot of people have zero desire to do so even if it has occurred to them. The fact is, that those with narrow emotional experience, narrowed and selective perspectives that require people to believe the way they do, behave the way they do, see the world and others the way they do creates disenfranchisement because it automatically has the implication that there are consequences for people who aren’t like them.

So here we are as trauma survivors. Healing from harm we didn’t create. Creating corners of safe space from spaces that others assume should only belong to them.

I want to take this post and tell trauma survivors how amazing, dynamic, multi-faceted, emotionally intelligent, beautiful, powerful, and expansive they are. You have amazing qualities that evolved on the inside of you. You are an evolved human being. You have space on the inside of you. That space is capacity. Capacity for good. Capacity gives you the ability to receive that narrowness cannot afford you.

I believe that humanity has begun a massive shift. A shift that values emotional intelligence and expansiveness and tolerance. A shift of conviction.

There will be a collective of humanity who deeply hold the belief that it is better to be a bridge builder for every chasm is better than clinging to feeling superior because of what “sets them apart.”

There will be a collective of…us…who deeply believe that to be a healer isn’t something relegated only to licensed professionals or the “spiritually” gifted. Healing belong to humanity. Period. It is expressed in community not division. It is given and received in relationship with those who understand that though we are many, ultimately we are one.

I refuse to be anything other than safe. I refuse to be anything other than a healer. I refuse to be anything other than whole.

And, if you’re not of this same energy you can’t be in MY energy. At all. My health cannot afford you.

The community I’m creating, the circle I’m curating, the reality I’m shaping is necessarily humane, good, sovereign.

Cozett Contemplates the conviction of what it means to be a healer

Yours in emotional intelligence,

Cozett Dunn

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The Masculine Man And My Mirage: Foundational Context For Bidirectional Learning And (hopefully) Community. Pt 2 Mushrooms Make Rain.

Long ago I learned that there exists a parable within every moment. And, moments exist in a continuum. Because of that we stand to learn very profound lessons whether they are wrapped up in the mundane or the chaotic.

As a childhood trauma survivor and someone who has had an equally as traumatizing adulthood I have spent the entirety of my days in a state of “trying.” Trying to feel anchored, trying to be centered, trying to be grounded, trying to feel firmly placed in life, trying to identify with my body and feel embodied. I’ve always felt like I exist at the end of a tether. My body and my survival instincts constantly preparing and adjusting with every gust of wind. And for me the winds have only ever oscillated between that of a summer storm or the finger of God. There have been few days of calm where the tether could hang limp, relaxed, or still.

Because of this constant state of “trying” to find things that will help me feel rooted into the fortitude of the earth I’ve found myself consumed in studying and creating my own system of symbology. As wordy as I am it is imagery that helps me get still. It is symbolism that reigns in the racing of my thought life. There is always more than meets the eye and I am always exploring “what the more” is of every symbol that I study.

Without a written or spoken word a symbol can be a fully understood herald that draws and teases out the wise and wonderful tendrils of our intuition.

When trauma has been as unrelenting as it has been for me there is a loss of a sense of human dignity. And the pride of youth and ego no longer exist. There is nothing to hide or cover or compensate for because all parts of you have been exposed. When trauma becomes a frequent experience there is an accumulation that happens that outpaces the ability of our faculties to process and integrate it. This is why it is imperative to invest in your emotional, and mental well-being by taking care of and optimizing your nervous system (This is another post entirely. Learn about and tend to your nervous system.)

Over the last year the symbolism of all things earthy have been a growing interest for me. Which is no surprise since my greatest life’s pursuit has been to feel grounded and nourished from a foundation that feels wide and deep and solid.

One of the most traumatic elements of my life has been the bad behavior of men and the absence of the protective force of a father. With that said I need to add here that due to circumstances that were unmanageable I never got to meet my father until I was 18 years old. My grandfather was my father figure growing up but he was very stoic and emotionally removed from me. We rarely interacted with each other and the majority of interactions we had were me being being cussed and name called for things that are inherently normal to a child’s development. Such as asking too many questions and being annoying, or being on the phone too late at night. I was never terribly mischievous and never got into any major trouble in school. But, he just didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with me and so he was reclusive. Growing from that foundation I went onto being around serious domestic violence against my mother from men who would beat her. One even picked me up by my throat when I was 14 because I told him he couldn’t tell me what to do because he wasn’t my father. Then of course my own experiences with first love, dating, and then marrying at the age of 21. With each relationship I was cheated on in spite of how soft, yielding, and available…and truly good I was. My most recent experience is being cheated on by someone I had agreed to marry. So, I’ve not had the opportunity to have good personal experiences with men in general.

Now, interestingly enough I’m reading a new book by, Sophie Strand titled, “The Flowering Wand, Rewilding the Sacred Masculine.” I have been admiring her and her work from afar for quite some time and when I heard her on a podcast yesterday morning I was so moved I decided to spend the last money I had to buy her book and thankfully found it locally. I bought it because of the earth imagery and because I’ve been so impressed how she through her own suffering and study has found an intersection between myth, mushrooms, and masculinity from which she shares her own unique vision of how we can collectively rewild masculinity by placing its roots into the narratives of soils that are not toxic. Her articulation and use of terms that are not part of normal conversation or entertainment is so powerfully romantic to me that her work is irresistible. Little did I know the magic that would enrapture me from the first few pages.

It is in this space of wonder and awe that I had to share what I learned about how mushrooms make rain. Doesn’t that sound magical?? Truly. And, while this isn’t the author’s intention I think there is a segue here for me into a potentially healing parable and that is the iteration of mushrooms as masculine symbol and rain as a feminine symbol. I feel there is some special tidbit of wisdom that is tucked away in that imagery. I’ll unpack that later though.

For now….check this out.

“Research into cloud formation and rainfall has yielded interesting results. One of the drivers behind rainfall is something very curious indeed: fungal spores. The group of fungi that produce mushrooms, called basidiomycetes, grow through an osmotic inflation process, their hyphae bonding together and filling with water in order to “bloom” above the soil. Once the mushrooms have developed, tiny stalks (basidia) grow underneath the mushroom cap, culminating in tiny spores. A drop of water forms between the gills under a mushroom’s cap. Finally, the water droplet condenses against the spore, jettisoning the spore out of the mushroom. In his book, Mycelium Running: How Mushrooms Can Help Save The World, mycologist Paul Stamets estimates that the force with which mushrooms eject spores is ten thousand times the force undergone by astronauts as they exit the gravitational pull of Earth’s orbit. Some land many inches away from the original mushroom. But most are buoyed upward by the wind, into the sky. Every year, around fifty million tons of spores enters into the atmosphere Some of those spores will immediately land in the dirt and begin, hypha by hypha, to root into the underworld. But millions of tons of spores do something else entirely. Some make it fifty miles up into the air and ride the currents for weeks. They follow the wind. And….they generate rain. Sugars on the spores’ surface cause water to condense around them once they have been ejected. Spores become a nucleus of sorts in a floating water molecule. These water-coated spores bump into each other, again and again, millions of times, until they accumulate into rain clouds.”
(Sophie Strand, The Flowering Wand, pages 11 and 12.)

Amazing right?? Mushrooms make rain. I will likely have a poetic response for this at some point.

I will unpack this in my next post of my series, “The Masculine Man And My Mirage: Foundational Context For Bidirectional Learning And (hopefully) Community.”

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The Masculine Man And My Mirage: Foundational Context For Bidirectional Learning And (hopefully) Community (Pt 1)

Man. Masculine. Mirage.

If you follow me closely enough you will be acquainted with my contemplations about life & how trauma has intricately shaped my evolution. Truly, as I write this I understand that no one can really understand…unless they can go tit for tat on the count of traumatic events that happened over the course of my life. But, what I’m writing here isn’t a peeing contest. It is however my first public post and write out loud sessions of how I will be processing a segment of my life that I wish to have a happy conclusion on before I die. An integration that leaves me satisfied.

At 44, in what is my mid-life, I realize we never stop learning of course. And, one of the things I admire about myself is that I’m adaptable. Life has taught me there is literally nothing that is set in stone. To live life with an inflexibility and disdain towards new or divergent views or information is to willfully agree to devolve, desist, subsist, and invite nothing but contrast and frustration. It is to live small and to exist within a very narrow scope. I don’t know about you but for me the thought of this makes me feel claustrophobic.

My intelligence is emotional. It is circumspect. It is agile.

From the age of 4 the big question of life has been at the forefront of my conscious awareness, “WHY?” As a trauma survivor and someone who has very unique & unusual lived experiences I’ve always wanted to know, “why?”

When it comes to God, truth, and faith I’ve been able to distill perspectives from quantum physics and cosmology to feel absolutely satisfied in my understanding about their origin (or lack thereof), nature, mechanism, purpose, and of course relativity.

Having these “figured out” now affords me the mental space to try to sift through my lived experience with men to try to understand them in spite of my negative lived experience with them and because of them. From my lived experience and my “hope springs eternal” approach to exploring what is my inescapable counter part it cannot be said that I’m not courageous. And, as a heterosexual and heteromantic woman the issue of romantic love is inseparable from my deep desire to understand the masculine amongst us. One day perhaps I will stop touching the hot, glowing, red eye of the stove. But, that day is not now.

The journey to understanding anyone or anything will always involve looking at the symbology surrounding and characterizing what or who you seek to understand as a first step onto the path. The symbology of a person, place, or thing is what comes before any verbiage is ascribed. Humans existed before language and it is because of symbolism that we gather our first bits of information to inform our instincts about what we’re learning about. Whether something is large, or small, quiet or loud, sharp or soft helps us determine how to approach our subject.

If a willing harmony and oneness can be achieved there is no doubt in my mind that the careful exploration of our symbolism is the genesis of that state.

It is at this point of genesis that I begin my personal journey in exploring, understanding, and relating to men. And, as I process, integrate, summate, and find my own conclusions I wish to make a promise to all men. My promise to you as a man, if you’re reading this, is that I will not be satisfied or tricked into holding a narrow, media swayed, post modern opinion of you. You are as ancient as I. And, I long to understand you from the beginning of time not from the middle of the feminist era. I am here to see and help you see your timeless qualities that are without reproach. I promise to be a safe place of feminine softness that is conducive and receptive and ever curious about the multi-faceted masculine that is you. Sans toxicity. I wish to separate you and perhaps take you on this journey with me to reexamine the symbolism that has been assigned to you. Maybe you can tell me at which points the symbols feel fitting or ill-fitting. Then this blog post will become a living bi-directional, learning adventure. And, who knows maybe in this way to I can create a community! The thought of this makes my heart feel full as I’m about to embark on what could be a journey of a million miles. Are you with me?

With bare feet I walk upon a new canvas and I leave behind narrative paths that do not serve our collectives

My souls and toes so sensitive to the vibration of the earth and my feminine arches serving as etheric connectives

When I meet the collective him my eager and keen intuition will open for unbound observation

The shoes I could have worn to get here would have been familiar and comfortable but would have perpetuated his obfuscation

And, I’m not interested in self-sabotage or treachery.

Many questions are building in my mind. I wonder what the image of him will make clear in me. All this before words.

In exploring your imagery throughout the history of humanity we cannot evade the primal iconography of your phallus. It has come to be defined (with words) as a symbol of power. However, it is also the regenerative part of you. It is a procreative part of you that delivers a bodily elixir of life. Without you, there would be no us. Since you are both how do you feel that the only characteristic concerning your penis that gets mentioned is “power” and not also regeneration and procreation? This reduces men to a narrow scope I believe.

Divine Masculine tell me your thoughts on the words below by Sophie Strand:

“Do we want to hand the masculine a sword of a flowering wand? The sword slices, divides, and subdues. Its tip drags imaginary borders across ecosystems. The sword does not embrace. It does not connect. It does not ask questions. It is not an instrument of intimacy. It either attacks or defends, affirming that every interaction is conflict, and every story is about domination. The sword, perfected by the Romans as the “spatha” (or short sword) for the specific task of maiming and executing prisoners, quite literally cuts the mind off from the body. The sword proposes that we can wield our intellect without our somatic intuition and without our rooted existence in ecosystems. The sword encapsulate the material reductionist idea that we can “cut” something up into discrete parts and thus understand it as a whole- that we must kill the animal to study the animal; that if we dissect enough brains, we might find the secrets of consciousness. The want on the other hand creates connections.

Some of the earliest examples of wands are the apotropaic hippopotamus tusk wands or “birth tusks” used in Middle Kingdom Egypt (1900 BCE), which were carved with lions, snakes, and frogs and used to magically protect pregnant women and children. They are thought by some to have been used specifically, to draw a circle of safety around a woman in labor. Inscriptions on these ancient wands tell us they are “the protector of night” and “the protector of day,” which may indicate a belief that they helped establish temporal order. We also have the snake staffs of Aaron and Moses in the Hebrew Bible, which were used in spiritual debate, to part the waters of the Red Sea, and to draw water from a stone. These magical staffs that flicker between the solid and the serpentine flow into the healing caduceus of Hermes, a winged wand encircled by two snakes. Rhabdomancy, or dowsing, once used forked wooden wands to magically survey the land for water, a practice that may date back nearly 8,000 years, as evidenced by art in the Saharan Tassili caves. Homer makes numerous references to magical wands in both the Iliad and the Odyssey, putting them in the hands of Circe, Athena, and Hermes. Celtic mythology also features many wands, rods, and staffs; for example, in the famous legend of Fionn MacCumhaill, the hero uses hazel wands to transform people into animals, as a divination device, and to defend himself from harm.

The wand encircles us with protection during biological rites of passage from birth to marriage to death. It draws us to water. It enchants us into closer kinship with animals and plants and landscapes by literally transforming us into them. It mends broken bodies, knits wounds, and softens minds hardened by anthropocentrism (human centric existence of all things). While swords are made only by human hands, wands, it may be argued, predate human beings themselves. All it takes is a woody shoot bursting into blossom. A cedar branch. A sprig of hawthorn. A tree erupting in lichens. For that very reason, perhaps, wands have been central to magical and ritual practices since before human history began to be recorded.” (The Flowering Wand, by Sophie Strand).

My question here is what resonates most with the masculine? The sword or the wand? The answer to that is very revealing and is worthy of sitting around a fire with.

Lots of love,

Cozett Dunn

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Alchemizing Our Loads: A Dedication To The Women In My Circle

I am a tree of life but my branches are breaking

And the thought of enforcing boundaries leaves me shaking

I knew this day would come. The catalyst has arrived.

But her appearance is nothing I could have surmised

The cool soil beneath the souls of my feet

This well-worn path formed by my heart beat

Everything! Everything is important to me. My heart wants to hold it all

My wise woman’s words telling me I can’t carry it all or I’ll fall

From an ancient wild forest she emerged from a bank of dew-laden moss

And she says to me “no, my child some of what you’re carrying is dross”

Statuesque with a tall basket upon her own head

She pulls from my load things that I dread

Complex emotions and situations from my past

I hadn’t realized so much had amassed

Ancestral traumas and narratives that defeat

She placed her hands on my own and laid these at my feet

We’re going to the stream she said…there’s cleansing work that needs to be done

We’re going to alchemize your load until your battle is won

Wading out into an emerald green pool

The water so refreshingly cool

Together we reached a briskly swirling eddy

She looked deep into my eyes and asked, “are you ready?’

“Lay your burdens down in the stream and watch them flow away

I’m teaching you how to release through the magic of play”

As I laid my burdens down into the bubbling flow

I felt a rush of tickles on my legs as I watched them go

My consternation gave way to a relieved smile

I looked at the creek bank where there was waiting for me a tiny pile

The wild wise woman began splashing her way back to the shore

I danced in her wake and reveled in her lore

Through her parabolic ways I learned how to discern piece by piece

What to carry close to my heart and what to release

As we stood together on solid ground I gathered to my chest

My lighter load that resembled a nest

Suddenly I noticed I had grown wings

And that they were made up of broken things

This leg of my journey now felt so complete

My energy and joy had become replete

It truly did all work together for my good

The profundity of my strength was being understood

As she walked away the wise woman gazed up to a clear bright sky

As she uttered the words, “and now you know why”

© Cozett Dunn July 25th, 2023

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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…

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My Great Alchemical Romance

Make no mistake. There is a great romance going on here.

But, it’s not with the man of my dreams.

It’s with the sound of the train passing outside the window of my hotel room.

The clickety clack of metal on metal while it rushes toward some destination I’m unaware of

The mystery of that unknown destination intrigues me.

It has always intrigued me. Paths that have no end. I dream of them all the time.

The haunting nature of a destiny I may or may not reach is more than I can take sometimes.

Isn’t that what great romance is all about?

A dance between what is and what could be

A push and pull between certainty and seduction

The liminal space that sits squarely between pleasure and pain

Knowing and not knowing at the same time is deliciously sweet

My romance has never taken the form of a dedicated lover who whispers into my ear their devotion to me

My romance has been quieter, subtler

I’ve laid on a freshly made bed of all white linens all day

The sun shining into my hotel window made the whiteness glow and feel…holy

It’s a Monday and the hotel is silent

I breathe deep as my eyes trace the blue sky outside my window and I wonder

I wonder why I’ve been given the path that I’m on

I wonder why I’ve had to do it alone

I suspect I will always do it alone

I suspect this is something the universe wants me to embrace

After I’ve worn myself out from wondering I realize the only thing I ever really understand is the moment I’m in

As the legendary poet Antonio Machado said, “Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road– Only wakes upon the sea.”

I don’t truly know where my path is leading I only know I’m too intoxicated by the intrigue of that to not follow it

My footsteps are the road

The curvature of the arch of my feet like delicate bridges from the heaven that is me to the earth that calls to me

My toes wiggling in the Mediterranean

My brown eyes beholding the Bosphorous

Ahhhh. Make no mistake there is a great romance going on here

But, its sensuality hasn’t take the form of the man of my dreams

Its sensuality has been expressed in the moments of feeling the immense pleasure of a plane lifting off carrying me to foreign lands

The sweetness of it found in the melting morsels of alien gastronomy

Its savory flavor flirts with me in the spice bazaars as the scent of the herbs hint at the mouth watering delights to come

This is my romance

Being a perpetual stranger longing for place is a bittersweet torment all its own

Who am I? I am the epitome of romance. The conundrum of contrast. The settled wild woman.

This great romance has my soul sliding across entire continents as though they’re made of satin sheets

I feel deeply and that is romantic whether I feel with someone or alone

I have a romantic life even if it isn’t one that is shared or witnessed

It’s an unconventional romance but romantic nonetheless…

I find my exhilaration at the moment of lift off

Like a bird set free I stretch my wings until I’m exhausted and sore

My body spent from flying I snuggle against the warmth offered in unfamiliar settings once I land

I am in love with the earth and all the life forms that teem therein.

I am in love with the sound of hundreds of languages and accents

I weep in ecstatic, heart-pounding joy that makes the entirety of my body and being shake at the sight of humanity celebrating their festivals and feasts.

I am in love with humanity. I am in love with all the emotional and soulful intricacies that are you and your expression of life.

This is my great romance. You who are reading this post….it is you because humanity is…you.

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Cozett Contemplates The Undreamed

Cozett Contemplates the undreamed…

As far back as I can remember self-inquiry has been one of the most powerful trailblazing tools I’ve ever utilized.

Everyday we move through our thought lives and external routines by our subconscious assessment of a predictable future & a well-rehearsed past.

Maybe we’ve been on our jobs 15 years and in the back of our mind we know we will get the opportunity to retire soon. Or, perhaps we have always been unlucky in love and based on our previous patterns it looks only logical that our future will likely not include the partner we want.

Now, let’s talk about how we dare to dream…anyway.

In spite of our predictable future and the likelihoods that seem will inevitably play out as our path unfolds it is only human nature to hope for better. To dream for more. To want more even if it doesn’t seem that “more” can happen for us.

My question to myself today…and to you…is “what have I not dreamed of yet?”

If you have a vision board or practice affirmations then you likely have at least a vague picture of what your ultimate desires are.

But, what about exploring the “undreamed?”

Here I’ll talk about what I’m including into the big picture of what I know myself to be gravitating toward.

First, I have to acknowledge Margo Holder for the words of not just wisdom but adventure that she has always said to me when I’ve catastrophized about my life. Those words, “anything can happen.” The very essence of this concept is rooted in the quantum field of endless potential. Meaning it is entirely scientifically, mentally, emotionally, and realistically appropriate to BELIEVE THE BEST
& to open wide your nervous system to the exhilaration that can only be found in the willingness to indulge in adventure.

Things I’ve dreamed of:

1. Financial security that enables me to create multiple humanitarian organizations.

2. Wealth without work

3. Love without effort

4. Travel without restraint or restriction

I put absolutely NO cap on how outrageously above and beyond these particular things can be fulfilled. Multiple humanitarian organizations?? That’s likely going to be too small in comparison as to how that dream actually comes true.

I have become granular in my focus on how I want my life to look going forward.

But, what have I not dreamed of yet? What part of the human spectrum has my imagination not wandered yet?

It is the undreamed that I’m looking for today. The undreamed is ultimate human potential.

Just the thought of that inspires me. Just the thought of the undreamed…stirs up and engages my emotions. Emotions are the perfect catalyst. Emotions are the most raw, organic manifestation tools humanity posseses.

By the end of the day today I will have a list of new, fresh dreams I’ve not thought of yet. By the end of the day I will have expanded my vision. By the end of this day I will be gravitating toward “a new newness.” I will be moving into a more exotic, happier experience.

What about you? Of course you know what your predictable future is. Of course you know overall what you hope for your life.

But, tell me…what have you NOT dreamed of yet?

I really want to know.

Yours in the dreamscape,
Cozett Dunn

#cozettcontemplates #whatdreamsmaycome #dream #dreamitintoexistence #quantumfield #humanpotential #dreambigger #explore #travel #love

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She Brought Us All Together Again: Love Is Greater Than Faith

Cozett Contemplates how she brought us all together again…

This morning my meditation released a lot of stored emotion I have about the division we’ve faced collectively over the last several years.

I don’t think I realized how deeply it has affected me.

All my life I have been a peace keeper of sorts. Human suffering has always bothered me. Always. And, I’ve always had this drive to help everyone I can to avoid suffering, consequence, and repercussion.

When I was in 1st grade, I was in a shared classroom with kindergartners. Our teacher is to this day still the favorite teacher I ever had. I remember her that clearly. Originally, Miss Gregory, then she got married and became Mrs. Aldridge. I loved her. She had one big rule for our classroom. And that rule was, “NO MORE THAN ONE ON THE FLOOR.”

She knew how frenetic young children can be and this was one way to keep order, peace, flow in our classroom.

One day while doing a writing lesson, I noticed two kindergartners at the sink. One had gone up to wash his hands from some finger painting they were doing. Then his friend got up and walked to the sink as well and was whispering in his ear. I remember feeling fear, feeling frantic, because I didn’t want them to get in trouble.

So, while they were talking at the sink, I decided to “risk it all” as much as a first grader can! ha ha. I thought, “if I can get to them before she does and get them to sit back down then it will be worth the risk of becoming the 3RD person on the floor!”

So, I quickly got up and walked up to the two boys and said quietly, “you all aren’t supposed to be up here. No more than one on the floor. You’re going to get in trouble.”

Suddenly, from out of nowhere came a whack across my bottom followed by 2 other whacks on theirs.

I felt so defeated. Embarrassed. Like I had lost an epic battle trying to do something good. Trying to do something that would “save” them. How could my pure motives bring me this? Punishment?? Of all the things.

That was the first of many lessons to come. That lesson that is now finding its articulation in this post, at the age of 43, is that “you can’t save everyone. And, as hard as it is to watch sometimes you have to allow others paths to unfold without interruption. While you think you are interrupting pain, it is more likely that you will be interrupting valuable lessons that will keep that person from pain in the future, when you aren’t around to save them or look out for them.”

As an adult I’ve not really departed from this inclination. I’ve refined it though through my own lessons of pain that weren’t interrupted.

During meditation I was asking myself, “what is next for me?” I’ve created 3 additional businesses that will serve as platforms for my own personal expression, healing messages, joy for myself and others, and another means of ensuring my own stability, as a single woman, one income household. But, they are not ends in and of themselves. They are my children. And, I want to watch after them dutifully, and support them by being their biggest cheerleader. But, that isn’t the end of my journey. It is a hugely satisfying accomplishment, yes. But, obviously that isn’t where my story ends.

This is when I began to cry. I actually cried so hard I began to shake. I began having flash images of memories over the last several years of social media posts, and news headlines, and news stories of our how country and world has erupted into sickness, war, racism, and near elimination of the middle-class.

Between religion, politics, poverty, and humanity’s inability to hold space for others who are different we have created a very sick atmosphere to live in. And, if you are an empath, you like me, probably feel all of this in your body and it is like a personal version of hell.

I’ve felt so trapped. Having a higher perspective and wanting to run to everyone and “get them away from the sink so they wouldn’t experience pain for their choices.”

So, this morning after I asked the question to myself, and to God, “what is next for me?” I heard these words, “She brought us all together again.”

That will be my legacy. These social media posts I do, my YouTube videos, my businesses, my voice are all channels to the goal that I wish to meet and enjoy as I lie on my death bed. And, that is world peace. I don’t care how lofty that sounds. And, I don’t care what any religion, psychologist, sociologist or other teacher says about how that’s not going to happen, or how it can’t happen, or how it has been predicted that we will only ever unwind into an apocalyptic extinction.

While I am here and while I have breath in my body I will strive to help people who are vastly different from each other, join hands and hearts.

There is truly more that unites us than divides us. I want to be intentional about loving my neighbor. And, I want you to be as well.

When we are falling out with each other due to different religions, skin color, economic philosophies, parenting, body image, etc. And, when our planet becomes inundated with a virus that is global. These are symptoms of what is happening in the collective unconscious. There are some bad programs running beneath the conscious awareness of our thought life that is pulling us into a chasm.

I’ve always been naturally ecumenical in nature. Here’s what I mean. I grew up to about the age of 12 or 13 as a Jehovah’s witness. Then around the age of 14 I had the opportunity to attend a Pentecostal church. It was in this setting that I found a place where I could enjoy self-expression in light of my feelings about God. The ecstatic worship services gave me a break from my crisis filled childhood. I got to see other examples than just my own family of origin in how differently people see God and respond to God and live out their beliefs. It was absolutely beautiful to my innocent mind. And, to this day I wish I could go back and experience these types of services. Unfortunately, I cannot and for reasons that would require another long post. For all of its faults, and frailties it gave me something beautiful to take away once I diverged. I gained a lot of confidence to approach and to continue learning about, God. As an adult woman, who was a preacher within a Pentecostal tradition I constantly strove to bring together Catholics, and other protestant denominations. I incorporated their theology into my own and tried my best to preach from that space.

Because I desperately wanted to be a responsible teacher who created and perpetuated unity and because I felt a duty to make sure that everyone who came under the sound of my voice wouldn’t receive only the fundamentals of the faith. They had plenty of that. We are still to this day harped on and harping at each other and everyone else the 10 commandments. What a shame. Even Paul, an Apostle, said we should leave the elementary teachings of the faith behind and go on to greater things. The mysteries of the Christ. Not cause and effect. Not good and bad. Not right and wrong. If your heart is renewed and you’re an ethical person at all you don’t need to be told any of this in order to follow it. There is a lot of wasted breath that could be used to teach people….how not to feel disdain for other religions but rather curiosity. The world’s religions are characterized by what I call, “the big 3.” Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. We are ALL Abrahamic. And, it is a disservice to the messengers of our faith contexts to somehow in our imaginations pit them against each other in a make believe fight for supremacy. How egoic is that? Yuck. God has nothing to do with that in reality. At all.

But, it’s not enough to be religiously or spiritually ecumenical, is it? No. Why? Because even that, as well-rounded as it can seem, STILL disenfranchises humanity. Yes, there is an entire world outside the confines of any religion or spirituality. And, I also want to find myself there. And, you should too. We weren’t created FOR religion. It is not my life purpose, nor is it yours, to die championing the supremacy of your religion. We are here for the purpose of life. LIFE is the purpose of all of us. I’ve discovered this because of death. When you are one breath away from homelessness, when you are sick in your body, mind and relationships….you understand acutely, how pointless religion and its supremacy really is. The only thing that matters is life and love.

There is a famous bible verse, penned by Paul an apostle to a church in Corinth. In 1 Cor. 13:13 he exhorted the congregation by saying, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

Let me say this in a way that I hope you will understand:

1. Love is greater than faith.

That’s it. The end.

Love is greater than your faith context. In other words, your faith isn’t nearly as important as your capacity to hold space for people unlike yourself.

As an adult woman I still feel the nature of my girlhood within me. I am still wanting to rescue people and steer them away from all that harms. Even if, AND ESPECIALLY if, that is our own behaviors, and attitudes.

And, that’s what this post is. Me, an as of yet, not college educated, single, white woman in the southeastern United States, whose appearance fits my stereotype. I mean my accent alone sends the message about my stereotype. My accent is…mamaw’s cornbread, with sorghum and grits.

But, I’m here. I’m showing up. In spite of my physical appearance, my accent, my heavily religious background. I’m here. And, I’m pointing to behaviors that will bring us all pain.

I’m urging you…to sit back down. No more than one on the floor. Sit, think and allow curiosity and compassion and consideration and commonalities to saturate your conscience. Allow these things to point you away from divisive behaviors and philosophies.

We really are better together. ALL of us. And, I am joining hands with everyone. Especially people who don’t share anything in common with me other than the fact that we need clean air, clean food, safe neighborhoods, and schools for our children. If that’s it (which it isn’t) that is enough. Love can grow from just those things.

I love you….do you love me?

Yours truly,

Cozett Dunn

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