Deep Within My Keep: A Poem Of I Am

And, when the time was right I became my own

My flesh your figment and justice my bone

Deep within the keep of who I am

I exist within a hologram

Projected realities colliding with the fates

While cunning chimeras pace at my gates

I am the offspring of a million goodbyes

I am the prayer that they can’t catechise

To Adam I say, “I’ll see your rib and raise you intelligence.”

And, to me he says, “I’m only interested in your acquiescence.”

The gamble that is and has always been

Is how authentic can you become without it being seen as sin

I owe no one comfort to the detriment of my own

The reality of me is my creative capstone

I repose in the still point of infinity

I refuse to be the adjuvant of your affinity

I do not exist for your pleasure

I’ve come to unearth mysterious treasure

You will not find me on the surface

It’s best to look for me in cursus

Water witching forgotten wells

Drawing deep from my poetic tales

I’m a nomadic wonder within this realm

My heart is my compass and it’s steady at the helm

In my defiant softness your trespass has become apparent

Your rage belies your belief that you are inerrant

You are justified in crossing my boundaries? Arrogance like yours must be steeled in foundries

And for what reason? Your inescapable bruteness is grounds for treason

A throne of fables, fae, and fire

My feminine ferocity becoming a pyre

Save the cherub for an appropriate setting

Charon is best suited for my level of vetting

Hades has no need for hierophants

And my soul has been looted by sycophants

So, when the time was right I became my own

My flesh your reality and autonomy my bone

Deal with it.

October 30, 2022 0

The Skin Of The Shaman

Listening has always been an intellectual and spiritual practice of mine. Whether it’s small talk, big talk, a ten seconds video clip I’ve always had a gift for reading between the lines and understanding intention. I am the nod and smile type so this likely doesn’t convey. But, then there is absolutely NOTHING about my outward appearance or mannerisms that remotely match my inner world. I’ll go in to that some other time. But, as a middle-aged, overweight, American white woman with a thick southern accent there is unfortunately no chance of anyone seeing me as I really am. I’m relegated to the circle of stereotypes like Honey Boo-Boo’s mom, or the Nanny Maw character on Tiktok. I ADORE Nanny Maw! She is epically hilarious and does a great job at poking fun at all of us southerners. You don’t really look at characters like this and think: “sage, deep wisdom, pointed, discerning, wisdom teacher, guru, intellectual, etc.” I do not look the part that I play in my current cosmic dance. And, it’s frustrating for me. Internet banter does nothing to alleviate the stereotype of my body type, race and nationality.

So, in getting out my message to the world I understand that from the jump I am disadvantaged in being heard the way I deserve to be heard. I will never walk on to a stage and have the immediate reaction from my audience that say a male Indian guru would have. The audience will always and forever be surprised that what comes out of me, from my mouth, my words is of the same essence and deep wisdom as say Sadhguru. Who is currently my favorite wisdom teacher. I encourage everyone to hear what he has to say. His wisdom is broadly applicable to all religious contexts as well as to those who are atheist. He’s a good thinker. Truly. My task is that first I have to clear my own path before I can even get my voice heard. That path is filled with the preconceived ideas of others about my disposition. My disposition. My appearance. My context. It all makes my thoughts more questionable than if they came from Sadhguru or some other well known guru.

A few years ago I became acquainted with an amazing yoga teacher. One of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known. So wise and kind and insightful. A trauma specialist. White and very much like me in the context of our nationality and skin color. She practices as a shaman. It never occurred to me to question what she called herself or knew herself as. She touched my life in a profound way and still does. She is without a doubt a shaman. In my current friend circle I am thankful to be surrounded by progressive thinkers, fiery activists who put everything they have in to defending and supporting and promoting the disenfranchised of my area. They open their mouths and succinctly hand racists and hypocrites their a** on a daily basis. They’re smart. They are educated. They are passionate. And they have seemingly endless energy to argue. Words matter. Am I right? This is one reason I write the way I do is because to me words are everything. Especially in the absence of forethought and consideration. In spite of my admiration and generally on-board nature with the message of their activism I felt a bit disappointed and disillusioned by a recent post one made about shamanism. Basically he said, “unless your skin is brown or black it is an insult to call yourself a shaman and if you are white and calling yourself a shaman then you are actively participating in cultural appropriation.” That is a huge and entirely faulty blanket statement. Here’s why.

Many shamanic cultures believe in reincarnation. There are two schools of understanding on reincarnation. One is that once a body dies and the soul is disconnected from its bodily form then the entirety of that soul gets recycled and put into another container whether it’s a human body or animal body. The other (which is the one that I subscribe to) holds that since soul has no shape then when it is detached from the solid energetic form that we know as body, the energy is no longer bound to a singular body. It disburses and spreads out and degrades. It is made up of ribbons or strings of energy. Once those ribbons of energy are loosed from the body many of them will join themselves to other stronger energy forms. In other words the spirit when disbursed it expands until it breaks off into pieces. These then find their way into other bodily forms. So, if you believe that an ancestor reincarnated into your new baby it’s more likely that part of that ancestor did but not the entirety of their previous energetic soul form. For those unfamiliar with the science of energy it may be good to state here that the first law of thermodynamics is that “energy cannot be created or destroyed it can only be changed from one form into another.” Yes, you can be a Christian and believe in reincarnation. The early church never had a qualm with the concept of reincarnation but due to power dynamics and edits to the Bible to force it to fit into Roman thought we lost the richness of that mystic component of our faith. At any rate, the point that was lost upon my friends is that if shamans believe in reincarnation and that concept is a major part of the society that they operate in then it follows that those shamans understood that once they left their own bodies they very well could come back in another human body that may or may not have resemblance or relativity to the culture that they were healing. Words matter because they shape how we are seen and understood and how our gifts are received. So, in my opinion this did a horrible disservice to any seekers who saw that post. Plus, the shamans of 2022, regardless of their cultural context cannot look like the shamans of earlier centuries. Why should they? Why should we? If the modern age brings us anything it is the understanding that modernity and mysticism can coexist. It’s about the message. It’s about the medicine. Not the body that it comes from.

October 24, 2022 0

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:

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.
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.
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

October 13, 2022 0

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.

September 12, 2022 0

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.

August 13, 2022 0

O Istanbul

As the sun went down and the moon drifted high

It occurred to me the end is nigh

The end of frustration and vexation and being stamped down

The end of feeling like I’m about to drown

My breakthrough came like a thief in the night

Gathering me as the good and stealing me from my plight

I was whisked away to a Turkish wonderland

The place where I always take my ancient stand

In the valley of the kings the queens come and submit

We rise as a group and the men become fit

There is a divine order God wishes to bring

One where the martyred women sing

Of their daughters glories and freedom stories

When Mother Cozett came with a soaking rain

Religion turned to reason

The reason changed the season

And immediately the lions laid with the lambs

Peace, peace she spoke

As her poetic bread was broke

Hardened hearts of willful violence

Became transformed in the silence

From the least to the greatest they all sat and listened

As mama Cozett’s words formed like Dew and glistened

Shimmering brown skin soaking in apothecary

My words became their sanctuary

Grace to the mountains and peace to the Golden Horn

Never again will battle rend us forlorn

The time is now and it’s about you and me

The time is now see the words of God upon the sea?

In all shapes and sizes and forms

Colors and facets that break the norms

A new day has dawned it arrives expeditiously

My poetry ushered it in auspiciously

Let us sit round the fire of the Bosphorous

Let’s ingest wisdom until we’re prosperous

I’ll feast with you till the daylight dawns

Wash your feet under the stars while the prideful yawns

Our way is a new way a higher way

We can lead together on the highway

A mass Exodus due to system disapproval

Warrants that the good and fat of the land issue reproval

Condemnation belongs to those who kick the goads

Like the wild ass who takes the resistance roads

There is a better way and I’ll show you why

But first let’s sit and look at the sky

October 6, 2021 0

I Am The Dream Cartographer: A Poetic Sonographer

I am the dream cartographer

A poetic sonographer

Sounding the unseen

I take my throne as Queen

Through my poetry

I sift the nations and discern

Through my poetry

The chaff is made available to burn

The burned up remnants

Who thought themselves chosen

Plying the poor with hearts that are frozen

They wouldn’t know Jesus if He smacked them in the face

Yet they deem themselves a superior race

Judgement begins at the house of God

They think He’s not looked while they’ve run roughshod

Over the people He intended them to care for

But they fornicated with politicians and became the great whore

Fallen, fallen is Babylon the Great

They thought they’d find themselves at the Pearly Gate

A shocking surprise awaits them all

A Father’s heart isn’t small

They thought His scope and love to be narrow

Singing that His eye is on the Sparrow

But, as they read the words of my prophetic poem

They’ll gnash their teeth and their mouths will foam

They’ll drip with the venom they accused satan himself of

While claiming themselves to be harmless as a dove

But, the Father sees it all from above

And their time is at hand….watch them begin to shove

They’ll muddy the waters like goats always do

Trampling the nations claiming their blood a martyr brew

Ever the victim

I want them to see

Time will be granted

A little while yet

While Christ casts His last fisherman’s net

We’ve gone out to work the harvest

But, they say it belongs to them since they plowed the farthest.

Did they forget His parables too?

Too busy they were embodying Donald Trump’s coup

A destroyer and destructor of all things good

Capturing the nations with a spirit of intrigue

Puffing up the petulant while he laid siege

This message isn’t from me. It’s from God I assure

This isn’t some piece of syncretic lore

I write because I’m told and it is my charge

It is my duty by and large

I’ll not dandle you on my knees like a child

You’ll not hear my motherly coo comforting and mild

I come with a warning that shit’s about to go down

I really hope that you come around

It is not at all like you think it is

Please remember Jesus was an ironic whiz

He went against the grain and picked grain on the sabbath because his students were hungry

The religious people would rather them die than offer them sundry

The laws you see are unimportant and carry no weight

What matters most is humanity not the timing of some religious date

It is insane that the body of love pursues others with such hate

October 6, 2021

Serpentine Shadows: The Cunningness of Healing

Snakes. They’re following me around everywhere. It’s uncomfortable. They’re in my dreams. They’re in my visions. A huge one was in my yard near the path to get into my house. And now wondering around through some of my old blog posts I came across a journal entry where I was firmly met and firmly decided to sit with the imagery of the serpent. Why are snakes so ubiquitous for me? I get the sense that serpent is an important part of my journey. I’m gonna ramble a bit here and then below I’ve included that journal entry for your reading pleasure 🙂

I’ve had an uptick in snake dreams lately. And a few visions of snakes. It still doesn’t fail that my initial emotion upon seeing a serpent is one of discomfort. I’ve found that the first thing I wonder about when I see a snake is question if I’m healthy. It’s like a default emotion. I’m as determined as ever to work through this because I feel there are major implications for my perception of this ancient symbol. This archetype. Yesterday morning I had a vivid dream. In this dream I was interacting with my family in my energetic form. I had passed on. I saw the potential scenario of my death and my instructions and impressions to my cousin about how I wanted things handled after my death. It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized that in my dream I was in fact in spirit form and not earthly form. As I rolled over in the warm softness of my blanket I went into a vision. I was sitting on my porch and a snake had crawled up my chair and bit me on my left wrist. It latched hard. I’m telling you its gums were pressed onto my skin. It had gone deep. Of course I jerked my arm and was startled but perhaps not as much as I would have been in real life. The expression on my face conveyed I experienced more of a playful “ouch” than a potentially life-threatening venom injection. The vision was brief as they usually are. It bothered me. I had the nagging question, “why do I keep dreaming about and seeing snakes??” in the back of my mind all day long. It colored everything I did. Why do I keep being brought back to this specific symbol? I finally decided to get still and allow my subconscious to project what it wanted to into my stream of active thoughts. The word, “healer” came into my thoughts. After this, a cascade of new understanding began to inundate me. I could feel these thoughts in different parts of my own body. Those sensations were further confirmation to me of the message of the snake. Shall we go back to Moses? Yes. And since I am the one taking you back to him I’m going to introduce you to some new titles for him that you may not have thought of or be comfortable with. Especially if you share my context as a person in the Bible belt of the United States.

Moses. Shaman to the Hebrews. Medicine man of mysterium. Desert father. Seer. Alchemist. Social justice warrior. Progressive. Empath. Mystic. Oracle. Nomad. I’m going to dive into all of these titles at some point. But for now I want to explore Moses the Shaman to the Hebrews.

In the Bible, Numbers 21:6-9, “Then YHWH sent fiery (burning) serpents among the people; and they bit the people, and many Israelites died. So the people came to Moses, and said, “We have sinned, for we have spoken against YHWH and against you; pray to YHWH, so that He will remove the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. Then YHWH said to Moses, “Make a fiery serpent [of bronze] and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten will live when he looks at it.” So Moses made a serpent of bronze and put it on the pole, and it happened that if a serpent had bitten any man, when looked to the bronze serpent, he lived.”

Here are my takeaways from this passage. Moses’ method of healing was very much shamanistic in that he interacted with YHWH (essentially Spirit) and brought back information from that realm in to the physical in order to heal people. And, in true shaman form, Moses’ presented a method of healing that would force anyone who wanted to survive to look upon the very thing that had made them sick and threatened their lives. Talk about shadow work!!

My call is to look upon the threats and alchemize them to the healing opportunity they offer. To behold them and not to look away or be subject to knee-jerk reactions or act as though I have some obligation to fear them by virtue of what they are.

Here is my journal entry from January 6th 2020: (I have made much progress and that feels so good right now).

This evening in my meditation I found myself gently rolling my head. Clockwise, then counter clockwise. My mind was clear. The movement felt good for my tense neck and shoulders. There were a few moments that as I moved, my movements reminded me of a snake. In fact, when it first occurred to me, the word, “serpent” popped into my head. Creepy right?? But, what if it’s not creepy at all?

I began to journal. Honestly, I wanted to push the notion of identification with a serpent out of my head and focus on other things. I’ve been thinking lately about the concept of dualistic thinking. This box so many of us operate in. It’s a framework that says life is “us vs them” with comfort coming from feeling like one is a part of an inner circle. Once that is sensed their is a deceptive reassurance that one’s thoughts are all correct and that person feels justified and vindicated in thinking those outside are wrong.

My context: I am a white, middle-aged, southeastern American woman born in a small town and into a southern American Christian world. So, the value I ascribe to certain symbols are different than say a middle-eastern man or south African woman. If you share my context you will likely have already picked up on and experienced a sense of discomfort or unease or morbid curiosity when you saw the title of this blog and the reference of identifying with a serpent. Why? Because in my culture that is colored by the Christian Bible and the fact that we claim a savior who was Jewish our minds immediately refer to the negative connotations of the serpent in the Bible. From Genesis to Revelation the snake is given a bad rap. Really bad. In fact its image often represents Satan. The ultimate adversary of God and tormentor of humankind. In Genesis there is a prophecy that the offspring of Eve will bruise or crush the head of the serpent. We understand that offspring to be Jesus Christ and the serpent the devil. Only twice in scripture is the serpent presented in positive light. In Genesis the serpent is called, “more crafty, intelligent, cunning than any beast” and again while the children of Israel were wandering in the desert looking for the promised land there is an instance where “fiery serpents” entered the camps and killed and made sick many people. In order for them to be healed from this attack they were instructed to look upon the image of a serpent that had been crafted from brass. Needless to say I grabbed onto the positive symbology. More importantly…I allowed my mind to explore the biological characteristics of snakes. I’m very blessed to have done so and here’s why:

Growth-when it comes to growth in humans or animals the visual of that is so subtle you really can’t see it happening. Except when it comes snakes. The growth of a snake involves shedding it’s skin and that is something everyone can see. Can you imagine your skin coming off every time you have a revelation, make a good choice, learn something new or celebrate another birthday? Awkward. Scary looking. Startling. Right? Additionally, it puts the snake in a very vulnerable position. But growth spurts do that to us too right? It usually isn’t pretty when we shed old ideals, behaviors, patterns, etc.

Right before the serpent enters it’s first scene in the Bible where it is cursed for cajoling the woman into eating forbidden fruit that her eyes may be opened to the reality of evil as well as good, it receives a rave review. It is said to be the most crafty and intelligent and cunning animal elevating it’s intelligence above all other beasts. To me this is very moving. My childhood and adolescence held a running theme where my intelligence was constantly questioned. When I got in trouble the first words I heard from my grandfather was, “stupid, silly damn thing.” My grandmother’s words were a little less harsh. She would immediately say something to the effect of, “well you should have KNOWN better.” Because all kids come automatically knowing right? And finally during the times when my mother orbited my life and we fought she would always say, “you’re not even old enough to have an opinion. You have no idea.” Now as an adult I find myself in a pursuit to be one of the greatest minds in history. Yeah, I know. My ability to “correctly” perceive and righteously act has hijacked the relaxation and fun and ignorant bliss I could have experienced thus far. I developed this obsessive umpire in my mind. Every moment of everyday I have discovered that I am judging each moment as either good or bad and I’ve robbed myself of simply being.

Had I never known this context I have found myself in, a white, southern Christian woman, I may have been conditioned and introduced to the imagery of the snake as the epitome of wisdom, a master of growth, a symbol of success, a representation of healthy sexuality, an expert hunter.

As I allowed my mind to open to these truths and additional meanings I began to feel a sense of pride rather than unease. I am…wise. I am one who is always growing and requiring more of myself and determined to stretch. I aspire to be a symbol of success, one with healthy sexuality and an expert hunter or provider for myself. I am serpent-like. My nimble movement inspires.

As a psychology student, an empathic person and aspiring professional counselor it is important to me to be relatable. I want people to feel open to me. And, I feel like one of the greatest medicines or gifts I can offer to myself…is healing my symbology. I want to take all the disowned and shamed symbols and revive them. I want to give them new meaning and the place of honor they deserve. On a practical level I want to not immediately have a negative connotation of someone who perhaps loves snakes or brings up dreams about morphing into a snake in their dreams during a counseling session. Healing my “seeing” better ensures my ability to be an agent of healing in the lives of others.

This year I have plans of shedding life-long patterns. And, I’m going to be honest and warn you. If you know me well, if you follow me on social media there are going to be times my shedding is visible. And, that may look weird or make you uncomfortable. But, I am determined to stretch. I am determined to enjoy the feel of a new skin. One that is more pliable and more suited to the joys of experiencing growth.

So, starting off 2020 I’ve healed at least one symbol and made new room in my mind and heart to better understand the world around me.

I am serpent. And, I’m healing my symbology.

August 20, 2021 0

King Mentality

These are truly the days of dreams and visions for me. This is yet another middle of the night post. Creativity seems to have saturated every cell of my body. When I’m awake I’m stewing on manifesting my wildest dreams. When I’m asleep I have vivid and highly metaphorical dreams.

And in the liminality of the 3 to 6 am time period I am inundated with vision.

So…what is Cozett contemplating at 4:19 am on a Tuesday morning? The power and beauty of healthy masculinity. And how we can heal our world through the vehicle of it.

The words, “king mentality” kept rolling around in my thoughts so I began to ponder on what it could mean. What the implications are of such a mentality, what it looks like, and how it can be extracted from centuries of toxic masculinity and off the rails patriarchy. Naturally, “queen mentality” is the balancer of these mindsets and I will get to that soon.

But right now I have a grand idea. There are so many books in me. This concept is one of them. I feel it’s crucial for our forward movement as a global society. So with that said please pray that I will have the energy, patience and commitment to see this project through to publishing? It’s important. I promise.

All of humanity looks to its past examples of heralded leaders to influence its future course. It had occurred to me that men who are alive in 2021 and reading this are in a unique and exceptional position at this point in the human race. There are golden opportunities for men in 2021 that’s never been available to them until now. Believe it or not if you are a masculine…I truly believe you are alive and reading this for a very special reason and purpose. You were meant to see this post. Your inner battle cry has been heard. Your dreams are important. Your positive impact can be immeasurable. You are so needed. Needed but also free. Free to reign like the king you are IF you recognize what’s being drawn out of the depths of who you are. You’re being summoned to greatness. Not like the greatness of the past. Not like the greatness of Nebuchadnezzar, or Tutankhamun, or King James, or John Wayne, etc.

No. 2020 served us all up something that will have lasting implications for many lifetimes after this blog is posted and my book is (hopefully) published.

There is not one human life on the earth that hasn’t been touched by the Covid-19 pandemic. Whether you got sick, know someone who did, mourned someone who died from it…or never got sick, never knew anyone who did and never knew of anyone who died from it and was just irritated by the inconvenience and media coverage of it. It has affected us all at some level. This should be a common ground for us all. So don’t lose sight of the value of other humans who wave to you from the other end of the spectrum.

So where am I going with all of this? This post is a kick-off of sorts for some research I’m going to undertake to interview men from every country of the world. I am blessed to have an international readership and YouTube community. I’m so grateful that nearly every single day I am having interesting, if brief, interactions with people from dozens of different countries, religions, and socio-economic contexts. I talk with people who belong to tribes, live in villages, live in remote places, and have wildly different opinions and world views from my own.

And, I LOVE the tension that is held between my own values and opinions and those of the people who have such different views. You really can enjoy the company and pressure that sometimes comes from such diversity. The secret to the thrill and enjoyment of such company is that you each share 2 core values. #1. Love of humanity. #2. An open mind that isn’t hostile to being challenged. In other words an ego that is in check. If you share just these 2 things…you can enjoy the company of any human regardless of differences. Talk about opening up new worlds right?? An incredibly rich opportunity to see the world through someone else’s eyes and hear the heartbeat of the earth with someone else’s ears. To feel perceive and sense with a skin other than your own. Is that not exciting??

On July 27th 2021 I am eager to discover who the kings of the 3rd millenium are. They do not rule like their forefathers did.

If you’re familiar with the term, “divine feminine” you probably understand that after thousands of years of masculine rule we have and are shifting into the era of the divine feminine. The pendulum has swung and the future is female. It’s not just a nifty feminist soundbite. It’s the natural progression of the course of humanity. I am stoked to be a woman pioneering in this age. And because I recognize it I want to make sure I do it right so I can be the trailblazer that this wild and wonderful Universe has called me to be.

I want to be a divine feminine who helps set the stage for a better society for women and girls. But in wisdom I perceive this can’t be done by “stripping men of their power and puking in the face of patriarchy.” (As much as I have wanted to at times, admittedly.) No. The wise woman is a healer. And healers are seers of sorts. They can perceive wounds that others can’t. They can see the wounds of people who don’t even know they carry them. That is one thing that the masculine era taught us. To disconnect from our pain. Because pain is weakness and weakness is vulnerability and vulnerability does not perpetuate the human race.

So how can I best serve women and girls and the feminine collective? I can do this by reaching out to the masculine collective and encourage them to come up higher. I mean that’s one of the largest roots of societal problems around the world right? The majority of ALL violence is committed by men. Rapes, wars, murders, oppression, religious domination, originated and have been perpetuated largely by men. All of those things are symptoms. Not that men are bad. Not that patriarchy is by nature toxic. No. Patriarchy is fatherhood. Good fathers are indeed like shepherds. Protectors. Nurturers. We’ve been given a bad example. We have been living for thousands of centuries with toxic masculinity. But it only exists because of wounds and to some degree the early drives to survive and escape dinosaurs and such.

So this is one of my plans to make the world a better place. I want to hear from YOU.

What in your mind is a king?

What in your mind defines healthy masculinity?

Who have been positive masculine examples in your life? Whether personally or perhaps some public figure.

As we dance into the feminine era and tap in to all the mysterious and esoteric wisdom, and healing it offers…I still wanna hear it…for the boy…(Song: Let’s hear it for the boy by Deniece Williams.)

#divinemasculine #divinefeminine #cozettcontemplates #divinefemininerising #patriarchy #toxicmasculinity #inspiration #blogger #writer #international #King #KingMentality #Queen #queenmentality

July 27, 2021 0

Turkiye

It’s 3:51 am…and I just wanna be in Turkey. I’m curled up under my weighted blanket and have my lamp on dim. My eyes are fixed on the large world map I just put on my wall and my newly updated vision board.

My vision board is too personal to show. But, if you could see it you would see pics of the Turkish flag  and the bright blue water of the Mediterranean.

In my mind’s eye I see me walking down the shore just before sunset. Feeling the fine gravel and tiny rocks of the earthy beach. I’m looking out over the ocean dreaming big about what’s on its way to me.

The work I want to do there. It would be enough for me to sit alone on the beach or in some restaurant. Just to feel the vibration of the culture. The people. Even if I don’t “know” them…I somehow know them. The thrill of simple and honest observation of the buzz of life there is a source of endless curiosity for me.

The pitch and tone of their language is so beautiful. It has a cadence that rings of innocence and purity. The way they carry themselves, their mannerisms, gestures, facial expressions reveal a peculiar inner radiance.
The way they interact with their children is awe-inspiring. There is a depth of uninhibited warmth and reverence for children there. Even when there are public announcements being made it was never a generic, “ladies and gentlemen we will be landing soon…or ladies and genetleman please enjoy the entertainment….” It was always, “Ladies and gentleman and DEAR children….”

Children are always included in their announcements. As someone who suffered a traumatic childhood I LOVE that they feel it important to directly address little ones to keep them informed and make them feel safe and included.

Right now I long to be in some city center there. Perhaps sitting on a park bench across from a mosque . Taking in the opulent and unique and ancient architecture. Observing their going in and coming out and tapping into their energy to see if I can feel if they had some profound spiritual experience.

As an American who has lived my entire life in the Bible belt but also acutely aware that my faith has its roots in Turkey…I have to say the Muslim call to prayer fills me with a deep sense of stillness that makes me feel immediately and instantly grounded and centered. It never fails that I am covered in chills and struggle to keep tears in check when I hear it. The sound overwhelms me and makes me feel so small. So…held by the large unseen force I know as God. I feel enveloped and absorbed into something bigger than myself. Something mysterious. Something grander than my own my aspirations.

I can feel the robust and rolling vibrato on my skin. I feel it within as well. At my core. The resonance seems to shift things inside me.

I don’t know what the future holds for me there. I just know that when my feet touched the earth there I felt like I was at home and was going to be there many more times. I felt a sense of purpose. Dignity. Ambition. Hope. Inspiration. I felt these things more deeply than I ever have. I felt truly alive.

The ripple effect is proving to be a lasting one. My toes are still painted with the Turkish flag as my pedicure is still good. Soon it will fade. But for now everytime I’ve looked at my feet since I’ve been home I get this metaphorical lesson that my feet….belong on Turkish ground.

I won’t be happy until I can feel the earth and sand that is Turkish land sifting between my toes and leaving grit around my nail beds. It’s not enough for me to be some happy tourist. I have a work to be done there. I don’t know what it is. I just know it calls to me day and night. I see it in my dreams and wake up thinking I’m still there only to look out my window and see that I’m still in my little healing haven on a Red Bank cul-de-sac. I love Red Bank. I love Tennessee. I love the beauty of the south here. It’s my springboard and contrast that has led me to pursue and embrace some of my wildest dreams.

From Tennessee to Turkey…who’d have thought? I think my soul always knew though. And not just Turkey but the continents it graces. It is not just a bridge between two continents for me. But, a bridge between worlds. A bridge between realms. A passage between 3D and 5D. A unique trail marked just for me. Harrowing and heartening all at the same time. Beautiful and bittersweet as it’s a line of demarcation marking the moment of one of the greatest transformations of my life. A chaotic catalyst that will never allow me to go back to the way things were. I can never be the same woman I was before I left. Coming back onto US soil I stepped out into the humidity of a southern night on the 4th of July and realized I was having my own personal independence day of sorts. I’d broken free from the tyranny of trauma. I’d emancipated myself. I stepped into the woman I always hoped I’d become. One who had traveled alone and against the odds. There was literally NOTHING in my reality that could have indicated I could successfully pull that trip off. There was plenty of uncertainty and unknowns and fear based illusions that could have held me back.

But I chose to jump into the chasm. I assaulted the abyss of aberration. I dove into the hands of the cosmos and tasked the universe to catch me before I hit bottom or came to a tragic end. And it did just that.

It’s like I experienced zero gravity after my jump. I never went down. Only up. It was disorienting because suddenly reality wasn’t playing by the rules. Things were turning out far better than I could have dreamed. Where I should have fallen I rose. Where I should have stumbled I lifted off the ground and flew. Where I should have ran…I paused and allowed myself to have all the overwhelming sensory experiences that would have ordinarily put me in bed for a week to recover from.

It was like time stood still. Like I had cracked the code to the matrix. I began bending my reality and smithing it. In my hand a hammer and at my feet an anvil. In between was my destiny with lots of heat and fire. The force of my blows shaping it intentionally. Shaping me and my own humanity. My spirit. My essence. With skillful tongs I kept repositioning until all sides had received the proper amount of blows. And then what emerged from the fire and all the beating took me aback. What I witnessed forever changed the way I perceive myself.

Turkey, I promise I’ll be back. I promise I will dedicate some of the best of my life’s energy to exploring you. It feels as though we’re both excited about that.

Cheers to the glory that is you.

Love,
Cozett

#turkiye #turkey #antalya #istanbul #cozettcontemplates #lifecoach #inspiration #blogger #redbanktn #tennessee #borderless #travelblogger #traveltheworld

July 26, 2021 0