Tag: Life

Inevitable Moments

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

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

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

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

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Why?

Blindfold me for the battle so I can at least be authentically barbaric
The masses have always hurled in to peril the esoteric

Slipping through the cracks I’ll never look back
But, I will remember my blood dripping through the black

I’m drowning in their cognitive dissonance
While crowning myself the leader of dissidents

With raised fist I’m screaming in to the void
I am my id the cautionary tale by Freud

Primordial and parabolic
I’m a corporeal hydraulic

Telling the story of how modernity is primeval
My nervous system lunging and launching in upheaval

My voice exists on the other side of the veil
But my body is here going through hell

The observation of this peculiar disconnect
That my self-awareness longs to resurrect

Rhyming and timing my sanity like a metronome
Like a daft pendulum the swing is my home

Wisdom that inspires wonder is reputed to be of significance
But the collective seems to relish in the bliss of ignorance

A scathing indictment that leads to incitement
Where even the Socratic of the democratic find themselves affrightment

I’ve simplified my question to three letters, “why.”

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Soulmate Romance

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

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

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

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

Cozett Dunn

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Cozett Contemplates Being A Healer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours in emotional intelligence,

Cozett Dunn

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The Taxi Driver

I’m sitting outside on the patio anticipating the sunset. It’s about an hour out. And it’s a warm winter day. About 58 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m quietly reflecting on who I want to be in 2024. How will I define myself? In what ways will I be boundless and free from definition? My skin is pale and my eyes sensitive from being indoors so much this year. Its like I lived in a bunker all of 2023. Listening to shells drop all around me. Waiting on someone or something to save me. To airlift me out of the hellscape.

People walking their dogs here in the complex have no idea what dwells inside the woman who is sitting on patio furniture gazing silently up at the sun. I have no idea what’s inside of them either.

I hear a car radio, factory grade, thumping coming down the parking lot. At first its behind my back so I only hear it. My mind’s eye begins to project images of what it might look like once it appears in my field of vision. It is factory for sure. Someone is absolutely juicing their factory car radio. I love that. Its likely a sedan. Probably grey or silver with shimmery undercoat that glistens in the sun if its clean. I imagine its probably a 2018 model and has a child’s car seat in the back with Cheetos covering the back floor board. I guess it has tinted windows. All of this my mind conjured before I could see it.

It was a taxi driver. The car was a tiny 4 door. Big, bright, green, logo on both sides. Indeed it was clean. Windows were tinted. As it pulled up to a garage I could hear the 1981 song by Olivia Newton John, “Let’s Get Physical” erupting out of the driver’s open window. I wondered to myself, “who am I gonna see get out of this taxi that’s been BUMPING Olivia Newton John?”

A lady in her 70’s opens the back door and slowly climbs out. She seems active but also a bit frail. Strong but fading. Definitely filled with the spiciness and zest of life. Big smile on her face. The taxi driver opens his door. He’s a white guy and balding. When I tell you the setting sun was beaming off the top of his head….I guess he’s in his 40’s. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that gapes at the bottom struggling to cover a pot belly. Dark, inky blue, straight cut jeans, that look like Wranglers. Black socks with taupe, open-toed, rubber sandals. 2 straps across his thick black socks. Olivia Newton John was still reverberating thru air. I wondered if the music wasn’t so loud it made it hard to hear his passenger. But, they both seemed happy. Pleasant. She’d had a great ride. Maybe the music was her choice? As someone born on the cusp of the 80’s I did enjoy that sound and I’m assuming the taxi driver is older than me and also an 80’s fan. But, something tells me that was her song choice. And, as someone who also drives I would never have the music that loud, or even choose the music. The volume and genre are always per my rider’s request.

He had the energy of a driver who had just started their shift and wasn’t thinking yet about the long night ahead. As he helped the passenger get some things out of the back seat another man comes out of the apartment. Older than the taxi driver, but younger than the passenger. He extends his arm to the driver and I’m assuming was paying and/or tipping him. Maybe that’s why the driver seemed so energetic and happy? Maybe it was the tip? Maybe he felt exuberant from his interactions with his passenger? I wondered at what the source of his joy was. It did seem more than happiness. The scenario tasted like genuine joy mixed with a large helping of abandon, with a dash of ignorant bliss. He laughed with the man who came out to meet them as he rounded the hood of his car to get back in and wait on another fare. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

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My Soul Screams: Stop Tripping Over Trite Things

Was staring around my dark room & thought I’d write and express. All I know is that 2023 taught me that many things aren’t what we’ve been taught they are. Specifically, the death process. I say, “death process” because it is a separate thing from the, “dying process”. It just is. It’s not like I was taught and because I saw what I saw I can’t very well force myself to believe what I’m told over what I’ve experienced. There’s a quote that applies here, that goes something like, ” A person with an experience is never at the mercy of a person with an argument.”

I’m doing all I can to summon my own essence, courage, wherewithal, mental health, and emotional fortitude to reignite my YouTube channel, Cozett Contemplates .

Life just isn’t what I’ve been taught. It doesn’t work the way I’ve been conditioned to think it would. And when you think about life…really really think…about the ontology of it….it suddenly feels like a wake-up call, where your eyes flap open in alarm because you’ve just realized that well-intentioned, good-hearted people had it wrong. All wrong.

And I’ve been grappling with this to some degree over the years but not like I have since 2023.

I’m experiencing levels of physical, mental, and emotional depletion. My nervous system is processing thru dysregulation. But, my soul….that essential part of me that never tires wants to scream. I want to scream that narrow perspectives cost lives. In 2 ways. One, in that a narrowed perspective keeps us from having a robust experience. One that fills us daily with solid education, experiences of people, places, and things that actually prove or disprove if what we always believed is real or not, a full and broad spectrum love that easily encompasses and holds space for humans who don’t believe the way we do or haven’t experienced what we have, and ever unfolding paradigm shifts that keep our minds, bodies and emotions healthy and growth oriented.

I have so much to say. But I think like Jesus, I’ll have to wrap it all in parables lest I’m crucified before it’s my time to die. And knowing what I know now about dying and death….I want to be able to be honest so that even if it doesn’t ring true for others, I will at least not trespass my own conscience.

There is so much crisis in the air. And I want to love and live. I don’t want to spend time parsing and mincing words and finding fault and accusing and playing the expert of some other human as their judge and jury.

I want to spend my time healing, teaching, holding and not tripping over trite things that have little to no value in the grand scheme of things.

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I Am The Cedar Queen

Hiding in the woods my branches like a broom

Hidden behind a veil

I exist in a liminal loom

I am but a shell

Impending winters dark, deep, and long

My sadness evergreen

Nightfall settles in my heart with a rusty song

I am the cedar queen

My arms raised tipped in green tipped in snow

I am planted & there’s no place for me to go

Cedar resin tears and things cling to me

Multi-layered matter grown inward and prickly

Sunlight filters thru neighboring trees and I wonder if they wonder what its like to be me

Moon rise means for many sleep

Yet the silvery light is for me a lunar keep

If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it does it make a sound?

My primordial cries subliminally rise from the frosty ground

The agony of my being alight on the beams

Moon beams or wood beams? Yes.

What has and what will become of me?

I supposed that’s up to the woodsman and the sea.

©️ Cozett Dunn

Chatttown_poet

November 15th, 2023 11:59 pm

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The Greater The Depth The Darker It Gets: Pioneering The Pathless Path

Whether the ocean, the earth, the cosmos or the psyche….the greater the depth the darker it gets.

Shadows still exist because they are the egregores of our ego. But, their borders bleed into the blackness. Doing the inner work here is harder. You can’t see anything at all. You can’t feel anything at all. You can’t smell anything. And, there is no flavor. Yet it is not “nothingness.” When taken to this depth you experience sensory deprivation and your integration process looks much less coherent than what is trending and being discovered in even the health and holistic wellness world. Things like Kundalini awakening, or plant medicine trips, or exorcisms, carry a busy energy of a human life trying to survive and progress. There is a frenzied, frenetic, frantic, or even euphoric feel to these processes.
And while they all are wonderful rites in and of themselves they are also in and of themselves mere entries into a life that is pure consciousness, awareness. They can serve as portals to important journeys but they are just that….keyholes through which we get to peer into what’s next….beyond the body and beyond the mind.

As one who speaks from the deep….I’m understanding there is a disabling stillness that overtakes the psyche that forces the soul to switch off to allow our spirit to come online. We depart from understanding the world and the people around us physically because we experience a break, a disconnect from the physical even while we are still in the body and we sojourn into a metaphysical knowingness.

From physical understanding to metaphysical knowing. This is the path of shamans, healers, oracles, prophets, and poets. This is where the pathless path begins. This transition is the junction where we meet other souls who are longing to go deeper but need the guidance of those of us who had no choice but to pioneer the poignancy of what its like to live between worlds.

For years I’ve felt a jealousy, a scornful envy even of those who never seem to venture below the surface. The ease that they experience in their unawareness has seemed so unfair to me. And up until my mother’s death, which has carried a level of complexity that no one should have to experience, I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why so many people get to walk around having done little to no inner work, existing in pure ego completely unbothered, and untouchable in spite of the harm that their willful ignorance has caused.

But, now I do. I do get it. I believe there is a subconscious mechanism within each of us that will allow us to go only so far into understanding humanity, emotions, spirit, soul, shadow. It is the “thing” within us that determines when it is our own unique time to learn certain lessons. And until it’s time to learn those lessons….these people act as lessons to those of us who are inwardly turned.

We learn how to deal gently with a collective that isn’t ready. We learn how to meet people where they are….without judging who they are. In the end its all about survival. The survival of the body. The survival of the psyche. The survival of the soul. The survival of our spirits that get so attached to the identity of our physical existence and feel terrified at the thought of the moment it loses the body. Because that will happen for all of us. We are all moving towards that moment of no longer being “the us that we know.” The us that is grouchy when we wake up. The us that looks in the mirror and sees thinning hair, banging bods, stretch marks, chiseled jaw lines, on point brows, and unwanted chin hair.

There is life in the deep. Beyond the body. And, beyond the mind. I’m here. But, I’ll be back. And, when I come back…I’m bringing my soul with me. I’m not politically correct. I’m not religiously correct. I fit in no where but because of this I’m equipped to go everywhere. Spreading boundlessly as threads of my energy finds the energy of other wandering souls like mine.

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

Man. Masculine. Mirage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love,

Cozett Dunn

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

I am a tree of life but my branches are breaking

And the thought of enforcing boundaries leaves me shaking

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

But her appearance is nothing I could have surmised

The cool soil beneath the souls of my feet

This well-worn path formed by my heart beat

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

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

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

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

Statuesque with a tall basket upon her own head

She pulls from my load things that I dread

Complex emotions and situations from my past

I hadn’t realized so much had amassed

Ancestral traumas and narratives that defeat

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

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

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

Wading out into an emerald green pool

The water so refreshingly cool

Together we reached a briskly swirling eddy

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

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

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

As I laid my burdens down into the bubbling flow

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

My consternation gave way to a relieved smile

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

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

I danced in her wake and reveled in her lore

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

What to carry close to my heart and what to release

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

My lighter load that resembled a nest

Suddenly I noticed I had grown wings

And that they were made up of broken things

This leg of my journey now felt so complete

My energy and joy had become replete

It truly did all work together for my good

The profundity of my strength was being understood

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

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

© Cozett Dunn July 25th, 2023

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