Day 125: I Am…

Portland, Oregon —- Reflection of Tree in Window with Words I AM
May 2012

I AM

Hidden in window

Waves of reflection

I am

Watching

Helplessly

As he slips through parched fingers

Cool water

Evaporated

Into sky

I am

Longing for his sky

Same world

To  break free

If only momentarily

From this prison of glass

by Sam Craft

Maui 2012

Return 

Erotic Dancer

Moves like dripping sunlight between sheets

Swaying sensually

In the coming of last summer’s day

Amid the amber warmth of season gone

And fall’s approach

Embraced

In oneness

Scattered crimson crows through open door

A trail of breathing soul

Hopes

Prays

Winged-wind doth carry thee home

To me

by Sam Craft

Sam Craft

Today I weep to the music of the Carpenters, with a depth I’ve never felt before. And I dance, to ABBA, with a glee only known to the Dancing Queen. This is me, today. All over the fricken place!

 

Weeping Again.


Day 124: My Aching Loins!


Photo

My gnome is laughing at me because I just said a bad word over and over. OH, NO! But I don’t care!!! Because gone is the prude-dude residing inside of me. {I can use “dude” for me, even though I’m a girl; I looked it up.}

What is the definition of prude? A person concerned with decorum and propriety…someone who uses those words in ordinary conversation is probably a prude. Here’s the part of prude that was me: more uncomfortable than most with sexuality; unusual modesty; goody-goody.

Before Photo: PRUDE

Photo on 2012-03-18 at 12.32 #2

Miracles are erupting. I’m engorged with passion! Prude-dude is shrinking like a tornado has just smashed her into asphalt. Serpent power rise!

Proof of my serpent power rising and prude-dude vanishing: I actually like the music my grandma used to have on in her very slow moving car—because it is stirring me in an erotic way. More proof? I used the words loins and erotic, and enjoyed it!

Lately, I can connect to every single song that has a semblance of a romantic edge of hope. I’ve been delving into songs, living and breathing the lyrics, like some lovesick damsel in distress or a diving duck. Plunge, ruffle feathers, plunge, ruffle feathers. Every inch of me is longing for connection. Here is a song that suddenly I think is the bee’s knee, only because the prospect of romance dances within the words and ignites my entire being….like almost every damn song I listen to. (swear word, giggles)

Ignore the commercial…but the music really is a must for this post: Direct Link

Once a prude, NOT always a prude, I tell you! In high school, I kid you not, inside the bathroom walls, more than one girl inked, “I want to be like ‘Samantha Craft,’ the virgin.” Whether the wash-closet writing was fact or fiction remains a forever mystery. The point is, I looked like a prude, acted like a prude, and was assumed to be a prude. I couldn’t say the name of private parts aloud—hmmm, writing them still causes difficulty. Don’t worry, by next week I’ll be able to write that word used to describe hotdogs—I’m certain.

Passion was a no-no for long-long time.

But I’m done with the subdued prude-dude. I remember wearing my first jean skirt as a young adult and asking my father if the skirt was too revealing—the hem touched right above the ankle. There was a time period I wore short skirts, but this was primarily to appease some goof-head (for lack of more fitting words), I was hopelessly in lust with. For the most part, my hemline was long, my clothes loose, and my neckline high. Typical stereotypical grade school teacher…from the early 20th century!

Well, what’s happened? You might wonder. I know I was wondering. I’ve had crazy surging and purging emotional eruptions for the last few weeks. At first I thought it was the pig hormone I’m taking for my hypothyroid—Karmic payback, in a beneficial way, since I stopped eating pig when I was ten. But, no, the pig-powers-that-be might love me, but this is something that even out does the power of Wilburs and oinkers everywhere.

My ongoing symptoms include:

Overwhelming intense feelings surrounding everything

An extreme knowing that I have a right to feel what I want

Pleasure seeking

Pain avoidance

Extreme feelings of passion

Extremes of emotions

Sensuality

Reconnecting to and appreciating my body

Longing to walk barefoot

Feeling improved energy, vitality, and health

Youthful glow

Expanding personal relationships

Achieving excellence in creative endeavors

Indescribable enormous power

Vibrating sensations

Less sleep

Thinking and acting remarkably different

Detachment

Self-transcendence

Bliss

Ecstasy

Visions

Clairaudience

.

After Photo: Goddess of Love!

Photo 10.46 AM

If only I could bottle this! Oh, but to take any away from me, would be sinful.

What’s happening to me, as far as I can tell, is called Kundalini Awakening (sexual energy). I’m no expert. I am a life-student still enrolled in school. But something boot-kicked the prude-dude out and let the coiled serpent expand. This energy of consciousness, I take it, has been aroused through spiritual discipline (120 days of bleeding my soul onto the screen for all to see) and spontaneously (connection with another). The energy of the second chakra, located physically in the pelvic area, has transformed. My center of creativity freed and honored. This chakra, my gateway, the center of emotions, is spiraling in divine tune because I have ALLOWED myself to experience life through my feelings and sensations.  The prude-dude removed! This is my serpent power, the energy that lies like the serpent in the root chakra. Think of those trick cans opening to expose the explosive toy snake. That’s me. Snake in a can!

So this explains why I can’t get enough of music; why I can’t get enough of photography and poetry; why I can’t get enough of any source that evokes extreme emotions. And probably why guys keep opening doors for me!

“So, that music, Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin, meaning the beauty there of being the consummation of life, the end of this existence and of the passionate element in that consummation. But, it is the same language that we use for surrender to the beloved, so that the song — it’s not important that anybody knows the genesis of it, because if the language comes from that passionate resource, it will be able to embrace all passionate activity.” Leonard Cohen

(These photos were changed since the original post.)

Day 122: Stoned Heart

Sam Craft
“Stoned Heart”

Stoned Heart

Watching the world go by

Wasting the day away

Dizzy Smile

Vibrant colors

Doped in desire

Completely saturated

Altered perception

Can’t think straight

Under his influence

Intoxicated in thought

Munching madness

Laughing in euphoria

High as a gull

Ease of mind

Turns paranoia

The horrors

The frights

Hashed

No going back

Panicked

Plunder to earth

Lost

Trapped in a circle

Racing impulses

Incapable of acting

Of doing

Bloodshot

Pelted with ponderings

Battered and worn

Baked by angst

Fried of hope

Sauced in sin

Plastered to regret

Persecuted by passion

Mob of madness

Tied to a punishing post

Stones thrown

Multiple blows

Pelted in pain

Slow and torturous

Knocked out

Executed

Skull caved in

Rises

The walking dead

Tripping with dread

Stumbling Dizzy

No longer self

Erased

Bleached

Whited out

Disoriented

Wasted woes

Hung over in time

Endless loop

Blank stare

Watching the world go by

Sam Craft Maui 2012
“The Stoned Dead”
Sam Craft
2012
“The Stone Threshold”

Day 119: Whispering Graves

Above: Southern Coast of Maui, La Perouse Bay

Below: Small Japanese Family Cemetery found off residential road in Maui

Whispering Graves

The graves of every lowly dale

The graves of every crowning peak

The graves of ancient burial

The graves of generations past

They all speak the same

They all whisper:  Live now

They all whisper: Love now

They all whisper: Don’t wait

They all whisper: Hurry

They all whisper and whisper again

Through winds of evermore

We only need listen

We only need follow

Until we too are but whispering graves

Day 118: We Breathe One


We Breathe One

Everywhere I look I see your beauty

We combine to make perfect wholeness

You reach up to the highest of sky

I stretch my arms round to shelter

You dig down

Deep rooted in thirst

And anchor the ground beneath where I stand

We breathe

One

For the other

We dance intwined

In your being

I live

Wherever I walk

I find you still

Where the birds gather and nectar drips

I long to be

I climb

I sit

I watch from the highest of shelves

Transformed into eternity

With the complexity of simplicity

Of just knowing

All is growing

All is standing

All is bending

As directed

By the beating of nature’s heart

Without

I shall parish

With

I shall cherish

Until the end times

When ash meets ground

And I sleep beneath your shadowed lullaby

Samantha Craft May 22, 2012

Images taken in Maui by Samantha Craft. May 2012

I see a finger pointing to truth, here.