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INITIATION: Sacred Illness. Sacred Body. Sacred Paths.

INITIATION: Sacred Illness. Sacred Body. Sacred Paths.

By raVen

In this podcast, I experiment with the hypothesis that intense illness and hardship is actually a portal into greater self awareness, an initiation of sorts by our deeper selves. I offer my views through spoken word poetry exploring this and other depth oriented themes
Journey To Your Inner Wise Being
Journey To Your Inner Wise Being
In this episode, we go on a short guided journey to meet an inner wise aspect of yourself. This being is not an external force, this being is a part of You, always available. The journey is inspired by an original exercise from my studies of Psychosynthesis and the work of Piero Ferrucci. Use your pause button to take more time at moments if you need. I hope you find this useful and return to it whenever you need support from this aspect of yourself that you meet. This wise inner aspect is always with you.
13:25
January 24, 2023
Brother Wind
Brother Wind
The Brother of Wind in the Minor Arcana of Tarot is a seeker, initiated by his own intense mind. If the outcome is successful, he becomes the Master.
03:07
October 03, 2022
Toes
Toes
We continue our exploration in this poem titled Toes, about a small girl exploring, or escaping, in sand dunes around her childhood home.
04:42
September 20, 2022
Cold Case
Cold Case
Cold Case By raVen lakins Thirty years ago A gun flew through the Night air Wiped clean The grip Still warm From frenzied Discharge Its body Landing amongst Innocent carousel brambles Hidden, hidden Like a ghost He’s gone Although surely Something pierced through Surely something Ripped open his aorta And led to a mother Kneeling Keening Roaring In a cold hospital atrium As the koi flipped and swished In its chlorinated pool Like a ghost He’s gone Both perpetrator And perpetrated Poof Is It Just A Dream? Thirty years later Still, no one’s found him And I wonder if he’s living A stunted, child possessed I wonder if he holds this Hidden, hidden Or if he’s died By his own hand Never being Truly found Hidden, hidden Like my deepest rage Like my Orphaned Hollow Resistant Aorta Like this Heavy Heaving Grief Thirty years later It remains cold Still no one’s found him And the Wolfman’s Ashes Have gone To the wind. ~Written for "Justice: Sisters of The Holy Pen" edited by Pamela Eakins
02:44
September 11, 2022
Likes
Likes
Why do we involve ourselves with social media? This poem explores one possible reason...
02:37
September 05, 2022