The Graces – Part II

8 Anava had never interacted with another entity or another person in dreamtime, besides the spoken guidance of Rana or her teachers. Until now, she had not interacted with another consciousness here. Or at least an interaction that included eye contact. She instinctively replayed her inner directives to herself: Stay confidant. Stay strong. Stay here. …

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The Graces – Part I

7 Anava followed the drysmus line to the small, cobbled dormitory where she lived while studying at the temple. She was distracted and disjointed from her encounters with Ren and Rana. Her skin prickled with confusion. Why not give guidance to your own son? Why me? The questions were plaguing and stung with betrayal. Ren …

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The ‘Oasis’ of Self-Inquiry

Whose stories are you telling? And why? Self-inquiry is so much more important now than I ever could have imagined. I take it so dead-seriously these days that I catch myself off guard. I used to hear the term ‘journaling’ and scoff a little bit. Mostly because I didn’t have the time to do it …

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A Rejection of the ‘Reactionary Self’

Uncertain and quiet, I still just don’t know. Lately I feel like I have no authority to be espousing my opinion on the internet, to post blogs, or even to write privately because I feel contaminated. A deep-seated feeling of perpetuating something that’s not genuine. Of creating something that’s not bore of myself but merely …

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Q+A: A Conversation with the Scales

Where am I?  I whisper into the night. Why am I here, in this place, at this time? I wring my hands and crack my neck and stay worried all the same. Nothing feels grounded, nothing feels right about this place, this ephemera – this ME. The constant swirl of dogma. The constant berating threads from …

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Anava

“I’ve been here before,” she whispered under her breath. She stepped through the rocks and moss and cushiony undergrowth carefully. The trees were gallant and tall. Birds chirped from far away and sunlight glittered through canopy cracks, trickling down to reach the dead leaves and rotting trees below. Familiar and foreign, the landscape seemed to …

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Z+B – Part II

3 “There was a story I heard one time,” Bess began, “about a grey-haloed woman who should’ve but shan’t.” Bess’s favorite story. Again. Bess had some favorite sayings and creative stories, but none as strange and nonsensical as the story of the ‘Doorway Witch.’ She recounted it a lot, and always took the performance very seriously. …

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Z + B – Part I

2 Zerian grumbled. The hot sunlight was creaking its way into his eyelids, and he couldn’t fight it anymore. He felt so sore and exhausted. He wasn’t sleeping well lately. He rolled out of his lumpy bed and onto the rug to stretch. He glanced around at his little apartment above the shop. He stood and …

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