CraigJustCraig

Tag: love

  • The Chalice That Never Empties

    They say: “You’re only ENM because you want to cheat without guilt.”

    But those words are shallow, spoken by mouths that fear the depth of truth.

    If I hungered only for pleasure without consequence, I could do what so many men already do: lie.

    Whisper sweet nothings. Pretend at devotion. Disguise betrayal with flowers and empty vows.

    That is the easy path. The coward’s path.

    But my life is built on integrity sharpened into steel.

    I do not lie. I do not shrink.

    I stand in the open, naked in truth.

    To speak my desire aloud is to invite judgment, to summon contempt.

    But I accept that crucifixion.

    Because ENM is not escape. It is not indulgence.

    It is covenant. Expansion. A refusal to mutilate the heart into scarcity when it was forged for abundance.

    Monogamy has often felt like a cell:

    twenty-three hours in confinement, one hour of stale air.

    But ENM — ah, ENM is the sky without walls,

    a storm with no horizon,

    a freedom tempered by responsibility.

    Do not mistake me: I do not love less when I love more.

    Each bond burns with its own fire.

    Each person receives the fullness of me.

    I am cursed and blessed, like a priest whose chalice never empties —

    no matter how many drink, the wine remains.

    Sometimes love awakens in the smallest spark:

    two hands brushing in passing, a flash of lightning across the skin.

    Why should I chain that current, forbid the seed to sprout,

    simply because another flower already blooms in my garden?

    Love is not a ration. It is not prison food.

    Love multiplies. Love overflows. Love is infinite.

    And ENM is not only love — it is architecture.

    It is the building of life outside the blueprint of scarcity.

    Shared burdens, lightened by many hands.

    Finances braided into ropes that climb us out of poverty into legacy.

    An emotional ecosystem — one soul offering peace, another fire, another laughter, another wisdom.

    No single person crushed under the impossible weight of “everything.”

    This is not chaos. This is design.

    This is not cheating. This is covenant.

    A web woven with honesty, accountability, expansion.

    So I say: stop fearing abundance.

    Stop caging infinity.

    Stop binding the heart to scarcity when it was born to overflow.

    I do not choose ENM because I must.

    I choose it because I can.

    Because my blood sings freedom.

    Because my heart refuses to shrink.

    Because love is too vast, too holy, too dangerous to ever be caged.

    ✨ Love without limits. Build without boundaries. Live without fear. ✨

  • Discipline of Touch

    The first time I witnessed tantric massage, it was not cheap arousal, not casual play. It felt like rite and revelation. A quiet room. Breath deepening. A man trembling as skilled hands touched him not with greed but with reverence. Watching his release, I understood: this is not indulgence. This is invocation.

    Tantric massage is not some spa trick. It is ritual. It is a way of treating the lingam—the rod of life, the staff of flesh—not as a toy, not as a weapon, but as a sacred vessel. Every stroke becomes liturgy. Every pause becomes scripture. The lingam is not just genitalia—it is the altar, the axis, where pleasure becomes prayer.

    Consent is the first and last law here. Not a formality. Not a checkbox. Consent is the living breath of the ritual. Nothing begins without his yes. Nothing deepens without his yes. Every gesture is a dialogue of spirit and flesh. To proceed without it is desecration.

    And when the yes comes, the gates open. Release flows—not pornographic, not performative, but luminous. Seed and sigh, trembling and tears. His body shakes, dissolves, empties—and I am not conqueror but witness, steward, priest of his surrender.

    For him, surrender is power. To let himself be touched without shame, without performance, is rebellion. To feel pleasure without guilt is reclamation. To give himself fully is devotion. In that moment, he is both god and worshipper, both vessel and fire.

    For me, it is discipline. Devotion. To guide him toward his own release while refusing to steal it for myself. To touch without taking. To serve without conquest. His trust is the altar. His pleasure, the hymn. My role is not thief, not consumer, but conduit.

    This ritual is carnal and divine braided together. Every moan, every pulse, every whispered “yes” is both body and psalm. A sacred transaction: one offers surrender, the other offers devotion. And in the end, what remains is not orgasm—it is communion.

  • The Price of Staying Close

    Sometimes being close to someone costs more than it’s worth. That isn’t just romance. It shows up in families, friendships, jobs, groups you thought were “yours.” The pattern’s simple: things shift, and staying the same stops making sense.

    Family is the hardest to walk from. Blood is supposed to mean unbreakable. But some family members don’t change. They repeat. Same fight. Same bullshit cycle. You hope the next holiday will be different, but it isn’t. At some point, you realize the only move is stepping out of the role they keep shoving you in. That doesn’t mean you don’t care. It means you’re done paying the toll with your sanity.

    Friendships rot quieter. Somebody leans too hard, or you’re the one chasing. Either way, the balance slips. You notice the weight. You carry it anyway until resentment eats the bond. Stepping back isn’t drama. It’s silence. Less calls, less texts, more space. Not exile—just not letting yourself bleed out alone on the rope.

    Work plays its own game. You become the reliable one, the fixer, the mule. People learn fast: dump it on you. Not always out of malice, just because it’s easy. The day you stop, the day you say no, suddenly you’re the bad guy. But nothing sacred broke. It was never sacred. It was just convenience, and it served them better than you.

    Stepping back here looks small. Closing the laptop. Saying no. Letting the phone ring. It’s not rebellion—it’s survival.

    Romance? That’s the stickiest trap. Love blinds. Attachment begs. You tell yourself loyalty is holy. You wait for “better.” But sometimes the most loving thing you can do—for them, for you—is distance. Enough space to see what’s real and what’s just wish.

    we’re wired to bond, and wired to protect. Those two instincts crash, and the crash feels like guilt, grief, relief—all tangled at once. No clean clarity. Just mess.

    Stepping back isn’t cruelty. It’s the line where you stop bleeding yourself dry. Ignore it too long and you’ll burn out everywhere else too. Distance gives you breath. Breath gives you sight.

    People won’t always get it. They’ll call it selfish. Cold. But stepping back is often the only way to keep something from rotting into bitterness. It’s not perfect, not painless. It’s just healthier.

  • All I Ever Wanted Was Community v2

    All I Ever Wanted Was Community

    All I ever wanted was community. That longing might sound naïve, but it is deeply human. I entered these spaces hungry for connection, for chosen family, for a circle that could hold both my fire and my tenderness. I led with my heart—always have. That heart has carried me through joy and devastation, but it also connects me to a much older hunger, one that thinkers and wisdom-keepers across cultures have tried to name.

    Sobonfu Somé, in The Spirit of Intimacy, reminds us that true community is a spiritual endeavor: a weaving of vulnerability, ritual, and collective responsibility. In her Dagara tradition, the health of the individual is inseparable from the health of the whole. Malidoma Patrice Somé echoes this in Healing Wisdom of Africa and Ritual: Power, Healing, and Community: community is sustained by rituals that reconnect us to one another, to nature, and to Spirit.

    I believed that if I moved with integrity, compassion, and willingness to learn, there would be room for me. I showed up. I gave. I made space—not to earn approval, but because that is how love teaches us to live. bell hooks, in All About Love, calls this the ethic of love: an active choice to nurture growth in ourselves and others.

    But instead of belonging, I met betrayal. I have been erased from spaces I helped hold, accused in whispers, and defamed without dialogue or process. This grief is mine, but it is also cultural. M. Scott Peck writes in The Road Less Traveled that true community requires struggle, honesty, and commitment to growth—but most groups collapse before reaching that stage. Instead of intimacy, we replicate domination.

    The West romanticizes the “rugged individual,” Erich Fromm critiques in The Art of Loving, but this individualism breeds alienation. Families are privatized, elders discarded, art isolated in museums, Spirit replaced with consumption: I shop therefore I am. In Of Water and the Spirit, Malidoma Patrice Somé contrasts this with African initiation systems where community raises the child, and where each person’s survival is bound to the survival of all.

    And yet, I kept hoping. I thought the circles I entered could be intentional spaces of care. What I found instead was conflict avoidance, gossip as governance, and safety-ism masquerading as accountability. Lee Harrington, in Playing Well with Others, emphasizes that authentic community requires communication, negotiation, and clarity—not whisper networks and silent complicity.

    So no, I am not broken. I am becoming. Smaller, deeper, and more intentional. I no longer scatter my energy into spaces that treat my humanity as optional. I do not beg for belonging. I honor those who have supported me, I release those who have harmed me, and I devote myself to what Sobonfu Somé calls the “vital life force” of real community: ritual, Spirit, and the deliberate weaving of souls.

    Community is not everyone in a room. It is not gossip or safety committees or charismatic leaders. It is a spiritual practice: a collective intimacy that restores, heals, and sustains life.

    That is still all I ever wanted. And that is still what I am building.

  • No One Breathes for You

    The tension between responsibility for oneself and the creeping trend of infantilization, “safety-ism,” and universalizing one’s own perspective over another’s consent and choice

    There’s a troubling trend I keep noticing: the desire to treat others as if they are incapable of making their own decisions, as if they are children who must be protected at all costs.

    I watch as people step in and supplant another’s desires, another’s wishes, with their own judgments — robbing them of agency, interfering in their path of self-discovery.

    I spoke recently about responsibility — that I am responsible for my existence, my choices, my actions, my happiness, my relationships, the values I live by. No one can breathe for me; no one can give me self-esteem; no one can rescue me from the consequences of my choices. That is the work of my life alone.

    So why do so many now insist on “protecting” others by stripping them of this responsibility? Why pretend that people are victims of choices they themselves have made?

    When someone consents, when someone desires, when someone says yes — who are you to override them with your own discomfort, your own morals, your own standards? Why is your universalized perspective supposed to count for more than the actual will of the person in question?

    I see it over and over: loud voices declaring “safety,” when in truth what they create is suffocation. They destroy the spaces we’ve built in the name of protection, but protection from what? From being fully human? From tasting risk? From living by our own choices?

    And worse — the arrogance of it. To presume that your personal discomfort invalidates another’s freedom. To insert yourself as savior when no rescue was asked for. To yuck someone else’s yum, and then call it morality.

    There are no victims here — only people who choose. We each walk our path. We each live the consequences of our own decisions. To deny that is to deny our dignity. To rob people of their responsibility is to rob them of their humanity.

    So I return to what I know:
    I am responsible for my life.
    I am responsible for my choices.
    I am responsible for the level of consciousness I bring to everything I do.

    No one else can do that for me.

  • Unbound and Untamed

    They only crave what they cannot taste. They only hunger for what does not beg to be devoured. The moment you stop offering yourself as their feast, they circle your absence like starving pilgrims, desperate for one more sip of the nectar you’ll never pour again.

    People are trained to prey on your longing—the soft tremor of needing to be desired, the ache for approval, the moan for validation. They smell it on you like sex. Like sweat. Like blood. But once you strip yourself of that hunger, once you tear out the root of needing to be chosen—you stop being food.

    Your silence is lethal. Your detachment is a mercy. No longer a body bent into shapes for their comfort, you become an altar of your own making. They’ll call you selfish. They’ll call you heartless. There’s nothing more suffocating than hands that held you only to keep you down.

    They raise you on the lie that being needed is the same as being loved. When you no longer need anyone, you become the only one they all need. Love without reverence is just hunger, and hunger will always drain you dry. Your absence becomes louder than their presence. They whisper your name when you’re not there because silence has made you a legend.

    Most beg for a seat at poisoned tables. When you no longer need their touch, their approval, their lips at your ear, you become the very thing they worship in secret. They tremble, they whisper your name in their sleep, because the one who no longer kneels becomes the only one worth kneeling to. You’ve met your monsters, made them dance, and came back free of every leash.

    They’ll call you ruthless when you stop explaining. Arrogant when you stop apologizing for your hungers, your fire, your divinity. But their accusations are burning on your altar. Their words feed your legend. Mystery is power. Secrecy is survival. To withhold your body, your secrets, your energy—this is sovereignty.

    A world addicted to taming wildness will call you a monster when you bare your fangs instead of your throat. But it is not monstrosity they fear—it is your refusal to be owned. They want your submission as proof they still matter. But you’ve tasted your own darkness, your own lust, your own silence. You are no longer theirs to tame.

    The old you—the one who apologized for existing, who begged for scraps—is gone. You buried that ghost and wear its ashes as war paint. Your indifference is not emptiness, it’s fullness. Your withdrawal is not cruelty, it’s clarity.

    Now, you choose where your loyalty goes. You choose who earns your presence. That choice is your crown. That choice is sovereignty.

    They will circle your silence like worshippers around a forbidden shrine. They will ache for the doors of your temple to open again. But they no longer understand: you are not waiting to be claimed. You are not starving for their presence. You are nourished in the sacred garden of your own solitude, fed by rivers no hand can touch.

    Let them gossip. Let them rage. You are not theirs to own, never were. You don’t need their applause, their tables, their love offered as ransom. You are the ocean—vast, ungraspable, answering to no one.

    You are not stone—you are iron. Not cruel, but sovereign. Not cold, but untouchable. You stand as proof that freedom is possible. That is what makes you dangerous. That is what makes you unforgettable.

    Everybody wants you when you don’t need anyone.

  • Reimagining Sexuality

    I don’t buy the lie that sexuality has to fit in somebody else’s box. Gay, straight, queer—those labels don’t define the truth of you. Who you’re attracted to, who you touch, who you love, how you build relationships] none of that has to be handed over for outside approval.

    I’ve watched too many people fold themselves small to fit a script they never wrote. That script was built by the same systems that police bodies, police desire, and control the words we’re “allowed” to use to name ourselves.

    We’ve been trained to measure our worth by scarcity. To treat love like a market and desire like a commodity. To swipe and shop for “the best” and buy all we can afford. And then we’re told, quietly but constantly: You’ll never really belong.

    That’s not truth. That’s training.
    Training that says love is rationed. Pleasure is conditional. Sexuality is a permission slip someone else has the power to tear up.

    Fuck that.
    My sexuality is yes.

    Audre Lorde taught me that the erotic isn’t just sex that’s where most people get it wrong. It’s a well of power. A resource for living fully. It’s joy as resistance. It’s connection that bows to your deepest yes. And when you start from abundance, that well doesn’t run dry.

    In abundance, there’s no hierarchy of who’s “allowed” to feel whole. No ranking of relationships or people. No performance for an audience that isn’t even watching. Sexuality is fluid. Self-defined. Alive.

    Desire stops being a shield.
    It becomes a mirror.
    And you finally see yourself—unapologetic, unshaken, untamed.

  • Step Into the Fire, its warm

    Fine. Make me your villain.
    You could have walked away, but you stayed. You screamed. You dragged a crowd to watch me fall—now you’ll watch me rise.

    I’m a sadist. I deal in fear, pain, pleasure, and surrender. I’m dark, heavy, and dangerous. I don’t hide that. I don’t it dress up. And I don’t care if you approve.

    You want safe and cute? Leave .
    You want truth?Come .

    your comfort doesn’t matter. the crowd cant’ save you. When you’re shallow, dishonest, and unprepared, you wont make it

    You wanted the fire? Now burn.

  • Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg Review

    seriously this book is casting out spirits disguised as a communication manual.

    Marshall Rosenberg didn’t just hand me a tool, he handed me a mirror, and a scalpel. and said get to work.

    This book is not about how to “communicate better.” It’s about how to stop speaking like a colonizer. and how to stop letting the colonizer speak through you.

    This was a wake up call to how much of our everyday speech is laced with violence, shame, and guilt. This book really pulled back the veil of socially acceptable manipulation and all the ways we’ve learned to control, manipulate, and people.

    Most of what we call “communication” is a poorly disguised threat without even realizing it.

    Judgement, blame and guilt are expressions of our own unmet needs.””survival stragtegies” we us to avoid facing fact we dont know what we need and hoping someone else can figure it out for us.

    The book said “All criticism, attack, and insult vanish when we listen for feelings and needs.”

    How everytime you hear the word “should” or “I have to,” you’re handing your agency to the abyss. and saying Fuck it. you’re outsourcing your power. you’re kicking your inner child on your way out the door…. again

    When you been taught to that sacrifice = love, when actually… your just neglecting your needs and Wearing your pain like it’s a badge of honor.

    What sucked and was heard to swallow was “Nobody makes you feel anything.” The way I interpret what someone says or does is on me. “Anger isn’t about anyone else. It’s about your unmet needs.” see that one i need a minute ….

    “The difference between a request and a demand is what happens when someone says no.” Ouch. you see what i mean?

    This man said : “Depression is your reward, for being good.” like wtf!!!!!!!

    That we are taught to be good, be obedient, be productive, and above all be quiet your actual needs.

    What the real struggle is: Don’t label. Don’t judge. Just say what’s happening, say what you feel, say what you need, and clearly, concisly, ask. Language is a spell to liberate, not to control. Guilt, shame, blame? Just masks to avoid your needs.

    This book is not gentle. But it will help you grow.

    Rosenberg is calling for a revolution dismantling the internalized systems of domination that keep us distant from ourselves and each other. He teaches you how to get real and get in touch with your needs. He’s asking us to speak in a language of life. A language of need. A language of choice.

    And honestly? That shit slaps.
    Highly recommend

  • “Exploring Sensory Deprivation: Unlocking the Healing Power of Intentional Kink Modalities”

    im going to pull a quotes for this a build my point from them the first one is: ” Jung’s says “Until you make the unconscious, con
    scious, it will rule your life and you will call it Fate” which means that
    your unconscious desires and curiosities have great power to
    shape your experience. “

    This is tricky:Because, these deep desires and curiosities are unknown and unconscious (meaning: you are not knowingly aware of them, so they do not seem like they are
    yours at all!). Yet these taboo, disowned, and repressed desires get fulfilled in your life. because these taboo desires have been disowned and repressed, you
    won’t recognize their fulfillments as fulfillments. you see them as calamities.

    There are 7 axiom to practice sacred kink/ intentional kink these are:

    • Having is evidence of wanting
    • We have a choice as to whether we experience sensation as pleasure or pain
    • It’s possible to get off on every “stroke,” and every happening in life is a “stroke”
    • The degree of being “turned off” or “turned on” is a factor of approval
    • Desire evolves through fulfillment, not denial and repression
    • Shame is the Magic Killer
    • The truth is sensationa

    The largest most powerful part of practicing intentioal kink is that you hold the power to change your mind, im going to quote 2 different things here but the oddly end up saying the same thing from two different source one medical the other mystical. the first on comes from urban tanta “Every thought you think is creating your future. … A basic premise of Tantra is self-acceptance. Another is self-love. With these, you can create or change anything in your life. Your mind is either your most powerful ally or your worst enemy. The choice is yours.

    How do you wish to use your mind?

    What is it you want in your life and in your sex?

    Will the thought you’ll think when you look up from this page be something you want to see happen in your life?

    Get clear on what you really want and start talking and acting like it already exists, because on some level it already does; it just may not have fully manifested yet. The thoughts you think today create your tomorrow—so when tomorrow comes, would you rather be greeted with your fondest dream or your worst nightmare?” and the next quote comes from the body keeps the score here is states the very real phenomenon about being ADDICTED TO TRAUMA: THE PAIN OF PLEASURE AND THE PLEASURE OF PAIN how Fear and aversion, in some perverse way, can be transformed into pleasure. hypothesized that endorphins—the morphinelike chemicals that the brain secretes in response to stress—play a role in the paradoxical addictions okay not the quote sorry really love this book should really be a must read but “The neuroscientist Joseph LeDoux and his colleagues have shown that the only way we can consciously access the emotional brain is through self-awareness, i.e. by activating the medial prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain that notices what is going on inside us and thus allows us to feel what we’re feeling.5 (The technical term for this is “interoception”—Latin for “looking inside.”) Most of our conscious brain is dedicated to focusing on the outside world: getting along with others and making plans for the future. However, that does not help us manage ourselves. Neuroscience research shows that the only way we can change the way we feel is by becoming aware of our inner experience and learning to befriend what is going inside ourselves.”

    and here is where im going with all this this intentional kink allows us to have soul deep level acceptance of our situation, our perception, our reality, and simply accept it love it actually get off on it this allows us to repair the alarm systems of our body and restore our somatic self to its ordinary job of being a presence that takes care of the housekeeping of the body,mind and soul ensuring that you eat, sleep, connect , protect, and defend

    Sacred Kink/intentional kink is an awareness of sexuality for exploring spirituality and energy. Though it may come in the forms of play, sensual exploration, and bliss, this is the work of our souls. What is important is access to an altered state of consciousness, why we go into them, and what we do once we are there. okay another quote from dossie new topping book “..play directed to the purpose of attaining altered states of consciousness, of traveling beyond our habitual perceptual screens to another way of being in which everything becomes special, extraordinary, brilliant. Goals for such a scene might be a quest for guidance, or a vision, the pursuit of personal truth or understanding, or the experience of spiritual communion” these tools provide an opportunity to tap into routes for self-focus, self-expression, and connecting with ourselves and others.

    okay lets talk about the intentional kink/sacred kink modalities in healing there are alot. like ALOT. like the oldest tools for shamanic and trance practices worldwide. and while i would love to give a exhaustive list im going to settle for one list the 8 fold path: you know the drill by now another quote

    “Eight stories. Eight life moments. Eight journeys towards beauty, change, manifestation, catharsis—towards the limitless. These eight erotic adventures will create a roadmap of exploration, uncertainty, truth, hope, desire and passion. A roadmap that might give insight to your own journeys from the past, or your own journeys ahead.

    The Path of Rhythm: Dancing Into the Infinite Beat
    I close my eyes and dance. The rhythmic music pumps my body back and forth between 2,000 leather clad bodies, sweat pouring over our hides and the hides of what encases our forms. I can hear the beat of the music in my breath. I can feel it in my pulse and I dance. My boots hold me firm on the ground and my hips sway, my lips part, making love to an unseen force. I grab hold of the Boy, my Boy, in front of me. I begin drumming my hands against his leather vest, the hide under my fingertips, and he grunts in time with the music, pushes back in time with the music, trances out with me into the music… and we fly.

    The Ordeal Path: Trials of Rope and Balance
    She looks at me defiantly, but I can see her fear just on the other side of that sternness. Suspension lines locked off, I pull one foot up in the air. Her toes brush against my breasts and she is tethered to the ceiling by the ropes on the back of her chest harness and by her thigh. For the first five minutes she is fine, until the foot on the ground cramps up. By the end of 35 minutes she will be screaming. By the end of an hour she will be sobbing and broken—facing the demons she came here today to look at. I hold the space and I wait.

    The Path of Flesh: Embracing Skin and Desire
    He growls at me and I growl back. The single tail isn’t an ordeal for me, because it brings me here and now, because I need it, want it, long for it. The lash is my lover and I can feel it lick me open and bring me back from the emptiness I fill myself with to survive the day job. I am decadence reflected, I am glistening, I am hungry as the blood pours down and I beg for more. My feral lust echoes back to him with every touch of its pain and I can feel myself opening up not to him but to myself. Looking within I can see all of the reasons I am the way I am and I love myself for it. This is not a test, this is love, and I love myself in this, I love the world in this, I am the world in this.

    The Path of Ritual: Into the Ceremonies of Life
    Each morning I wake and do as my Mistress has commanded. I lay out my clothes on the bed and while still nude, prostrate myself before the image of her that lives on my altar. She is my Goddess, my inspiration, and I repeat the mantra of her name and my place in her life. I am her Slave, her thing, her property. I say all her holy names and remind myself of my place in her life as I lift the collar to my neck, lock it on, and look in the mirror next to her image. I see myself in her collar, know I am in her collar, and begin to touch myself as she commanded. I cum in her honor, as I always cum in her honor, and in that space between tension and release, I catch myself in the mirror, feel the collar, and can feel the divine in this truth.

    The Path of Breath: Inhaling Our Potential
    “Hold.” Their voice is sensual and still as I sit before them and they kiss my lips and then say, “Release.” Ze sucks in my air between tender lips and breathes it back to me in time. Our bodies rock back and forth into one another, me into them with each breath out, they into me as I breathe zir back in. We become a single circuit. We are a single circuit. Ze locks eyes with me again and adds noise to each breath, pumping me higher and more acutely into zir, feeling zir hunger against mine, feeling zir in me at each push of oxygen. I am high, and the world floats away.

    The Path of the Horse: Riding Into the Storm
    He called and said he needed to feel divine wrath. I will not be myself tonight. I will become the vessel to hold his pain, to give him space to atone. Black lace and silk wrap around my form, knee high boots, and a mask slips in place moments before he knocks on the door. I slip into the back seat of my own soul and watch as SHE comes forward, watch as SHE has him crawl inside, and am inspired as I know, together, SHE and I will create an evening he will never forget.

    The Path of Asceticism: The Call of Erotic Monasticism
    It never comes all at once. I find myself in the quiet places when others sleep. Universal truth slips out as I’m washing the dishes or licking his boots. Sleeping on a pallet at the end of his bed, wearing what he requires, following his rules—this is the order of things. I become his nun. I wake at the same time each day, bathe in the same way, act according to his rules—and with my mind stilled of gibberish, I find calm, and in the calm, understanding.

    The Path of Sacred Plants: Consuming Our Fate
    On my knees, my coven stands around me and the Priest opens up the tin to reveal what is inside. I close my eyes—I have the right to say no, to not go on this journey that we planned months ago, but I know that in the safety of this circle that this is what I need. I keep closing myself off, keep stopping short, and having negotiated this I am ready. Hand to mushroom to lips and I begin with bowing before each of them, thanking each of them, as the music begins and their hands slowly descend onto my body.”

    okay to so let me recap for a sec and tie lol this together really quick so i have previsously talked about the 16 rules tthis basically says your always doing magic whether you like our not, this says you definitely like it you little freak and your getting off on it. we also talked about “What cannot be communicated to the others cannot be communicated to the self. If you cannot tolerate what you know or feel what you feel, the only option is denial and dissociation. Maybe the most devastating long-term effect of this shutdown is not feeling real inside,” so here is the healing aspect right we need to be able to feel what we feel and know what know or your magic will litteral make YOU cease to exist!!!! bell hooks talks alot about this condition but im going use a quote from erich fromm that also mentions this condition “it is important to avoid bad company. By bad company I do not refer only to people who are vicious and destructive; one should avoid their company because their orbit is poisonous and depressing. I mean also the company of zombies, of people whose soul is dead, although their body is alive; of people whose thoughts and conversation are trivial; who chatter instead of talk, and who assert cliche opinions instead of thinking.” these people are also magical they just have lost control of their magic and have given control over to some one else these people are dangerous unstable and these are the people in most need of healing. so we talking about that and the living dead now we need talk about the power of culture, or idealogy, mythoform, and mythogolog but that ill need its on post all together but what i will say here is that. as we have seen how importent our mind is, our words are, our thoughts are, so is the stories we tell ourselves, the fantasy we keep, the media we consume the belief we hold all of it i will one day talk about yurugu and how that is the last piece in the magical practice and until you what divides you you can never finish the first step of the great alchemy,