No Water For The Wolves

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

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

I want my table to extend into the nations.

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

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

Love is beautiful anarchy

Light is the epitome of rebellion against darkened understanding

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, I refuse to give them water…

The Haunting Resonance Of The Grit: Grungy Motels And Why I Can’t Resist Them

Traveling is one of my greatest passions. There has yet to be a greater rush for me that confirms I am indeed alive.

Travel challenges me. It is an epic (and I mean this in the literal sense of the word) vehicle for shadow work, soul-searching, and, self-discovery. The profundity I encounter is always trajectory shifting. Mind-blowing. Salvific. Paradigm shattering. And, oh soooooo endearingly sweet.

I do mostly solo travel, and if there is 1 regret I have from this, it is that I have these most profound moments alone. I live my life nearly entirely unwitnessed. And while my life isn’t opulent (yet), it is worthy of being witnessed. I’ve transformed and moved through some pretty awe-inspiring shit. I want so much for someone to see it with me. See….me with me. See the grit and feel it with me so that I can tell my stories about the black grainy gravel that made its home beneath my fingernails for a while.

I want to share how and why I find such a haunting and somewhat macabre peace when I stay in a dirty, shady motel. For one thing….the energetic imprints in these types of motels are downloaded onto my psyche like an old school record and needle. By feeling the grooves, I hear the song. It’s like preternatural braille. The imprints tell me their stories without words or any sort of audio. I seem to somehow “know” and “feel with” the room I stay in and the lobby I occasionally venture into.

Would I prefer to be in an all-inclusive 5-star resort?? You betcha. But I don’t yet feel a resonance with that atmosphere. I suppose that’s because I’ve always fluctuated between lower middle class and poverty. But, for the sake of adventure, I hope that will soon change so I can know what it feels like to resonate with the opulence and unadulterated relaxation that I actually need.

At any rate, I wanted to share a picture of where I am tonight. March 13th, 2023, at 12:42 am. I am at the Super 8 Wyndham motel in College Park, GA. Hartsfield-Jackson is adjacent. And I have been plane spotting while here. That is another rush for me. I can’t get enough of lift-offs. I find resonance in them as well. More on that some other time.

But this motel….it’s rough, hahaha. I saw a 10 year old boy across the street at Food Mart dealing drugs. I have just begun writing this post after calling on the angels for him. But, 10 years old. Wow. I was around drugs but thankfully wasn’t doing or dealing them at that age. There’s always someone who’s had it worse. Perspective.

I can’t resist these places because when I walk in and I see how the rooms are half dilapidated and should be condemned but it also looks like some upgrades have begun….it is my mirror. Half-dilapidated yet under construction. Hints of mildew in rusted showers. Carpet that smells like mango perfume but makes the bottom of your feet look like you’ve stepped in soot. A king sized bed wrapped in so many cases and sheets with decent pillows yet when you lie in it you find yourself rolling to one side because it has some weird hump in the middle that isn’t visible but can be felt once you’re stretched across it.

But, the mirror looks new. The mini fridge works. And the night stands look new. In the words of William, The Worm, in the movie, “Labyrinth,” “Oh,well. Close enough.” It is in that spirit I exhale in the darkness that now surrounds me knowing that although I’m in a strange and gritty place, I’m also in a place that feels familiar. And, even though this motel gets 2 stars with one review stating a guest left because as they were checking they encountered an Atlanta Homicide team and on their way back to their car walked past a coroner vehicle, there is strangely still comfort in familiarity. An understanding. And of course…this unwitnessed moment that no one will ever see….but me.

The Intrigue Of Our Ignorance

Self-aware
Unconscious upheavals

I repose in my hermit’s lair
Wondering at the evils

I have only questions and sincere curiosity
Pearls before swine is fake luminosity

Biologically pathological
Hypnotically illogical

The passers-by on the street both intrigue me and concern me.

Ontologically astrological
Neurologically cosmological

What do our psyches share?
Your sinister glare driven by need
My awkward stare trying to get a read

Do I even belong here?  I think not.
If that were so I’d cast my lot

But as it is and as it’s always been
I live on the outside looking in

As it was and as it is now
I live from the inside out as evidenced by my furrowed brow

I don’t understand.  I really don’t.  But, let me heap some cognitive dissonance upon these sentiments.  There there.  All better now.

Who does? You may ask.  As we pass around the delusion flask.

None of its real is it?  “Of course it is!” You laugh.  As our teacher talks backwards drawing a nursery rhyme graph.

I sit and quietly think, “what is one to make of all this??”  It’s like living in the film, “Rabbits, or The Matrix, or the old school “Clash of the Titans.”

We really are going there?  Our continuum has found its chiasm.  And we are plunging into irony.  Each side thinking of the other, “the joke is on you.”

Rain Falling Forward

Times of refreshing rain falling on me falling forward

I turned to my inner sea and collapsed shoreward

Rising from the black sand beach of my subconscious

Walls closing in around me I must become dauntless

My time here has come to end. My time here is about to fall backward

May it collapse into the unconscious sea for it never was truly me

I learned something the other day while I was reading, “Flowers On The Path.” And that is the karma of living unaligned invites wrath.

I read this book by Sadhguru, my Indian mystic, the one I aspire to emulate.

It was the rain falling forward that knocked me from this path of wrath

It was the rain falling forward that was my footpath

Solar plexus has become my lexis

I’ve learned to trust my gut

My pivotal nexus gives assurance so I strut

From one country to the next all around the globe

In the soil of every country I become their microbe

Giving life to the foundation of all we are and need

My happiness demands I elude the greed

Hermetic aesthetic

My soul won’t fit in a corporate hole

Capitalism is apathetic

Because it deems the hermit pathetic

So narrow. Only preying it knows

But, I plan to take it down with the gift of my prose

The great whore who preys upon the people

The great whore who has made it’s home under the steeple

I will write until my writing becomes a freedom song

Liberating the inhabitants of the earth and making them strong

A mother to the nations I’m calling first the east, then the north

Before I venture to the south and call them all forth

I give up entirely on the west. It is from where I came

It’s way of life nearly made me lame. I will leave it to another creature

Or perhaps to the lukewarm church and its favorite hateful preacher

Were it not for the falling forward rain

My life would still be subject to drain

But, I am moving forward now in this beautiful falling forward rain

Science Is The Twin Flame Of Spirit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours in thought,

Cozett

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.

Silent Retreat Please

As I’m lying here with heavy eyes I find myself longing to escape to some prolonged silent retreat. It’s a soul’s longing. Deep. Not quite guttural but definitely gritty.

At this time I feel like I want to take a solid 90 days in silence. No TV, phone, etc. Just me and the void. I feel like unless I can get into this kind of setting I’m always going to feel void on the inside. Like I have to create a larger more spacious void outside of the smaller void that is within me. It seems a larger and exterior void would be able to absorb the void within me…and essentially rid me of it that I might be truly whole for the first time in my life.

I am so much stronger than I give myself credit for. But, it’s because I’ve been in either 1 of 2 states nearly the entirety of my life thus far. 1. Panic 2. Numbness. Fluctuating between the two. The strain to be in such constant states while fighting with everything you have on the inside to stop feeling the panic and then admonishing myself for being numb. Ugh. Like my soul was acidic.

I just feel this need to detach and reflect and just be quiet. For a very long time.

Love,

Cozett

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

The Cure For Our Disease

Wanting nothing gaining everything

Detach and declare to the deviant mind

Snatch the nightmare that threatens to bind

Shod your feet with the finest of soil

Worthwhile reward for your labor and toil

Running circles stamping out fire

Will it matter when you’re on the pyre?

Detach and declare victory to the overworked mind

Then come to me to rest…seek and you will find

Floating above the masses in awakening

Mind, body and soul quaking

It wasn’t hard to leave it behind

I left a breadcrumb trail for those inclined

Shaken…not stirred

As my dream engine whirred

We’ll meet in the ether

The pathway there is gold beneath her

Higher, higher and higher still

The only way I reach it just now is with a quill

The feather of which lufts me with ease

This may be the cure for our disease

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