Addiction and Higher Self, A One Act Play

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“Happy Feasting!” says Addiction, as it tips its head back to get ready for a good dose of shame and self beratement.

“Wait!” says Higher Self, putting the breaks on Addiction mid-air.  “Isn’t this supposed to be a comedy?”

“Says who?”  huffs Addiction, suddenly becoming very large.

The two stare at each other intently for what seems like eternity.

And then finally the sound was heard throughout the land, like a trumpet announcing a Royal Queen:

(Insert loud, resonant Laughter).

 The End

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April Aronoff

The Ramblings of a Rose

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I am doing some serious work of late.  I am bumping up my energy work to a level I never imagined.  Yet I have questions.  Two years ago I learned that I was the Keeper of Rose Oil, whose council is to surrender to unconditional love.  It was an intense time, cultivating in a kind of break down that forced me to examine myself deeply.  While I loved that I was Rose, was unconditional love and beauty, I couldn’t extend this toward myself.  I remember being filled with grief and anxiety that felt as ancient as the oldest stone on Earth.  It ran from the depths of my insides to every inch of skin.  I was very far from unconditional love.

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Now I am here.  Standing at the precipice of change, staring at the giant open endless sky, the blushest of Rose colored clouds beckoning for me to jump.  I know I have crossed the threshold.  While I still struggle with anxiety and depression, I am also beginning to embody the Frequency of the Rose.  It’s been a wild ride from that dark place I was 2 years ago to where I am now.   And so my question is this:  Is it possible to be the Keeper of the Rose, whose sole purpose is to vibrate the highest frequency of love known in any realm, when my heart is filled with pain daily?  How can I be wielding such tremendously challenging feelings while simultaneously activating the highest frequency of love throughout my body?  Yet it is happening.  I am being told my hands are activated, that I am to run the energy of the Rose through them, to shower others in love and light and healing and peace.  This I feel in so many parts of my body.  Yet my heart runs heavy.

I am also told to use my hands on my own body to heal  🙂

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Its been 5.5 months since I’ve have gone off of anti-depressants.  I felt so much better on them, yet a huge part of me was numb and shut down, and had been this way since early childhood.  I badly want to stay off them, to allow the Shakti energy that has been latent rise to the surface and set me free.  Yet some days I’m not sure I can do it.  This type of medicine was beneficial for so long.  It allowed me to chill out and relax an already highly stressed out nervous system.  I was far from perfect, but physically I felt much better.  So it sounds a bit crazy that I want to stay off these meds.  Yet I feel I am meant to peel away the layers of these intense, dark emotions of mine.  To understand and heal what is really at their core.  I’m sure my body chemistry is legitimately wonky.  But underneath lay something that is waiting for healing. Something old and primal and dark.  It is this that I seek.

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I recently participated in an ancestor healing ritual in my backyard.  My backyard is my temple space, and it is sacred to me.  Many of my roses are planted back here, along with a variety of medicinal plants, totems and garden art.  The ceremony was during the Full Moon.  I stayed up all night feeding the fire, making offerings of liquor and coffee throughout the night.  I would take a giant swig of liquor and spray it on the pictures of ancestors encased in plastic bags for protection.  These lay on the altar along with other sacred offerings.  And I thought about them, and sang to them, and softly asked that they cross, so that they can move on to what’s next in their evolution.  Some of them did.  And some of the pain and burden that we in my line had been carrying for all these years, well that just lifted.  The pain was healed as they were healed.  Lately it feels like I am growing new skin.  It’s been a wild month, to say the least.

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April Aronoff

 

A Letter From Shakti

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This came up during ceremony, a letter from Shakti to me.

 

I am grit.

I am pure, raw energy.

I rage

I create

I pulse

I claw

I scream

I dig

I bury

I gestate

I birth

I howl

I taste

I hear.

 

All of the pleasure

All of the pain.

 

I see

I feel

I love

I orgasm

I desire

I burst

I pleasure

I fuck

I don’t give a fuck

I create

I mix

I alchemize

I magnetize.

 

I am one with nature

The dirt

The green.

 

I relish

I sweat

I am water

I am bones

I am preverbal

I have no language

I am raw, animal instinct

I follow my desire

fuel my intention

I AM YOU

YOU ARE ME

I AM NOT OUTSIDE YOU

I LIVE IN YOU

I SEE THROUGH YOUR EYES

TASTE THROUGH YOUR TONGUE

FEEL THROUGH YOUR SKIN

WE ARE ONE.

 

I climb, claw, ascend

Up from the Earth

Into you

You are my home

WE ARE ONE.

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April Aronoff

 

The Forgotten Sense/Poem To My Yoni

 

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You have forgotten me

shut me out

put up yellow tape,

Caution,”

“No trespassing,”

“Do not enter.”

***

Entangled vines

high frequency cries

from unknown creatures

dwelling inside.

An eco-system pulsing and untouched.

***

I spread my legs wide

and peer inside

and gasp at the

light within me.

 Pearly walls

butterfly wings

lotus lips.

A rabbit hole leading somewhere

I can imagine in my mind,

ecstatic

safe

snug.

***

I was born with you

and I will die with you.

Whole cultures rally shame

around your very existence.

But you are simply

just another part of me,

like a finger

a tongue

an eye.

Tools I would never consider disregarding,

so why do I disregard you?

***

If I can touch

and taste

and see,

why should I deny

that which is my life-force,

my birthright?

***

The forgotten sense,

That’s what you are.

A sense I know only

the barest surface of.

***

Slowly, I remove the tape.

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April Aronoff

 

Blessings Of Compassion

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Mother (Earth)-

Show me your grace, ease,

like thick liquid pouring

through every space and crevice

of my anatomy,

scouring away resentment,

anger, fixity,

polishing what is light

and bright and love

within me,

like a river so cold and clean

one drop anoints thee,

so what begins as desire

ignites this body,

as deep and familiar

as cells dividing,

memories unfolding,

dreams remembered,

of a life as She.

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 April Aronoff

Photography By April Aronoff

Into The Rainbow Soul

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Sliding down the rainbow into a Pot of Gold,

Swimming in the ocean and feeling the vastness of Her womb,

Calling for sight and smell to overwhelm my senses,

For Love to gush from my heart,

Like a fruit so ripe it bursts into sweetness,

The moment it touches my tongue.

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April Aronoff

Photography by April Aronoff

Jump-A Poem

 

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Why is it so hard to get the words

from here to there?

They are shouting across a chasm,

begging for a rope or a bridge,

anything to take them to the other side

where they can finally come alive,

living, breathing, and dictating a life

that is bursting to be heard.

 

Then I hear it:

“You can do it,” the voice tells me,

“Jump”

The chasm is deep and wide,

and I lose my sense of balance

as I stare into its nothingness.

“Jump,” it tells me again,

“You can do it, don’t look down.”

I shift my line of vision up 90 degrees,

the other sides features fuzzy,

but with outlines I can clearly see.

“Jump!” the voice says more firmly, “Do it, Jump!”

There is no guarantee I will make it,

no way of knowing if I will land breathing

or made up of bloody pieces,

but the thought of not trying is death.

“Jump!” the voice is now yelling, “Do it now, jump!”

I take a deep breath and close my eyes,

a vision appearing despite my sudden loss of sight,

every ounce of my blood alive,

and get a running start

and Jump.

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April Aronoff

Photography By April Aronoff

 

Addiction Is Staying With Me For The Holidays

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Her name Is Addiction

and she’s staying with me

for the holidays.

“Dee,” we call her for short.

 

Dee slipped into

my life

right before Thanksgiving,

and now has taken over

every room of the house.

 

Dee doesn’t care

that I have kids,

or drive a car

or go to work.

She lives by her own impulses,

and makes demands

that must be met

any time

at any moment

of any day.

 

What would happen

If I said, “No” is not known,

as Dee is very persuasive,

often leaving me feeling sleepy,

and malleable just enough,

so that a boundary,

any boundary,

can be pushed with ease.

 

Dee knows her visit is mixed;

intense pleasure

alongside wrangled angst;

angst over my permissiveness,

my everything is okay-ness,

over admitting

that I enjoy Dee

and her presence,

no matter how much

she burn’s me out.

And that I let her

get away with more shit,

than any other being

I have in my life.

 

I hope I don’t see Dee again

for some time (undefined).

Her stay is not forever,

and even she will know

when that stay

has been out welcomed,

slipping away

in the same manner

as always;

slow, languid,

a heavy trail of essence,

fragrant in every room,

reminding me

that she has been here

or is coming

and that I better be ready.

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April Aronoff

Photography By April Aronoff

 

 

Finding Transfiguration

IMG_3859In performing Transfiguration, one becomes a being of light.  It is a light that is divine and shining like the brightest star.IMG_3849As I experience Transfiguration, I go to a place of very high frequency.  This is what I experienced the first time I performed Transfiguration last summer, and what I experienced again last Thursday.  I fill with light and automatically rise up many notches on the frequency meter.  I bathe in my own light.  It is so uplifting and energizing, and feels something akin to Divine Inspiration.  It is the scent of Rose, whose essential oil heals with the highest vibration. IMG_3867Is this why I was chosen to be the gate keeper of Rose oil and why I have planted 10 Rose bushes on my property?IMG_3847

April Aronoff

Photography By April Aronoff

 

About My Roses

IMG_0811Ten rose bushes.  That’s how many I have planted.  I have nine in the backyard and five in the front, fourteen rose bushes total.  Thirteen of them are medium to big shrubs, highly fragrant and continuously blooming.  One of them is a spectacular rich, pink climber that will frame a window I have a view of when sitting in the garden living room.  IMG_1424The colors range from peach, to pale yellow, deep yellow, light pink, deep pink, violet, plum, deep crimson, red, and variegated crème and rust.  It will be a spectacular sight, when all these roses are in bloom.  I imagine my garden as a healing space, surrounded by luscious, fragrant roses, the emblem of love in its highest form.IMG_1221I want to bathe in the sweetness of the smell, the way it calms my nervous system and ignites my sensory preceptors, so that things like hearing, sight and touch, are amplified.

IMG_1179I am profoundly thankful that as I go through this space of deep grief and healing, I have these roses to look forward to.  I will evolve as they evolve.  The smell alters my DNA.  Perhaps that is why I am a gate keeper of the Rose.  I recognize its deep healing power.  IMG_0814As gate keeper my intention is to make my own oil from these roses of mine.  To heal myself with my own hands, the power of what I have created.  It is the dawn as night transforms into day.  It is the light I know will greet me soon.IMG_0654

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April Aronoff

Photography By April Aronoff