the mother cult of self love

Long ago in the mother cult of self love…

I was a willowy tree person covered in ancient algaes and magical mushrooms shading clustering crystal patches and strawberry vines and basking naked beneath blue molten skies…

don’t you remember, isn’t this where I found you staring into my starry space? I think you saw me wandering in search of you, hallucinating the secret girl with wings hidden beneath her flimsy skirt, only you can take me higher than buildings….just like this, a wishfulfilling lick between my earthy thighs and a warm blowing thunder bolt roars then bursts open the dandelion’s storm setting free the peaceful bunny who is only hopping slowly home…

I don’t mean a home of stoned hippies, I mean the home of her progeny- the mystery school magicians wrapped in velvet and murmurs of pyramids, lying inside a sarcophagus dwelling with mimes and watching a rock that tells time through a hole in the circle to know exactly which star to strike first…we planted it all in plain view, hiding these secrets in the dew of our snail trail waiting for us to return…we followed the clouds that hid the star shapes we call home. The dog star was barking and the scorpion tipped, the fish swam sideways while the virgin undressed, the sun was a bomb as I stood on top of the world striking matches and burning smoke signals for you. Come! May day is here…

pagans strewn in colors streaming from the fertility pole, fairies dance and maidens build castles in the air waiting for virile husbands. Bees make love to the flowers and honey falls from the sky. Trees hang bearing ripe fruit and babies sing open mouthed for their mothers. We’ve never flown this high before, over the deep endless valleys where rainbows are grown.

Look at me and tell me what you see. A string of fiery pearls, a strand of wild hair, or am I just a hummingbird with wings too fast to see? I bet you saw me as a white unicorn standing in the morning field, within the dazzle of overlapping horizons- overflowing with lilacs and poppies and the voices of frolicking little girls calling you, Come!

Can I hitch a ride over that steady rainbow with you little one, way into aurora’s open star? A swirl of something even prettier than this vision made me remember which way to go, there were so many arrows pointing this way and that…into the glitter of so many unborn moments of magic made by tiny gnomes who live in the big root hole dug under the giant ageless oak tree…

I could have went with you if I were sure you’d love me always…

but nobody is sure of anything and especially the magic of love…and so heavy hearted people collapse and betray themselves and become completely unrideable because there’s no sure thing called love waving dreams and new life and there’s nowhere sure to go…and so back to the voice who doesn’t love you at all and that snaps you back into satan’s crooked line like a hopeless, dried out twig…

self love is a place pointed to by the one true religion implanted in us by our creator…the mysteries of the mother’s magic are revealed in the mystery school of self love, self love is a place…have you ever been there? I talk about you and what to do and we talk of the shaman’s world within, but I haven’t much said of the romance we are, in love and in kindness to me, self love is the key…

in contrast to the divine mystery of genuine self love there exists in this self deprecating world of dark men, the fear serving cult of satan that inculcates the behavior of blind projection into it’s slaves and demands a sort of sick self cherishing based on our infected wounds that we continue to poison and so that won’t heal- becoming eventually distorted at the very base of our actions and resulting in a twisted perverse sort of tragic, displaced, yet psychotically internalized romance we play out again and again with ourselves in an extreme way- refusing any and all personal responsibility that would lead to correcting our destructive, self isolating behavior- in this tragic and demented romance with ourselves we are in charge- which is the base of fear holding ground over any stable contentment ever- this fear base of our romance is where we are both the victim and savior, lover and beloved, predator and prey- depending on our mood or triggered paranoia of losing control- and this is different than how I would like to think of the play of lila in which it’s the divine romance of god playing with god through creation itself- this is a psychotic, human relational mental illness issue intent on destroying creation itself-that involves the inability to steadily face any mirror as the other that is put before us so that we might more readily face the unconscious pains that are being rejected, suppressed and denied within our own bursting psyches- and so the best attempt that is made in this tragic romance is that we would project subconsciously onto others exclusively, albeit unconsciously- as a type of satisfying, masturbatory, psychic rape.

Anger and self hatred drive this scheming of the subconscious to set this self hatred straight but we refuse to see this and spend lifetimes jacking angrily off on others as ourselves that we cannot see, accept, own and especially love. This act of emotional self mutilation that everyone is practicing on some level only creates terribly negative results because we hurt ourselves by hurting others because they are us- and yet we cannot even attempt to love another in the most vulnerable and honest way- which is the only thing we can really do here on earth, should we ever grow in self awareness- and so instead, again and again we push the ugly out and onto others at the instigation of our death wish and we sabotage and psychically intrude, rape, masturbate upon and assault the world around us, the world “out there” – we spew curses and accusations, ugly names and all our disowned emotional filth and unclaimed baggage- we turn others into our dirty ashtray- our convenient receptacles for confessions and astral enemas- in an attempt to take this “toxic me” and put it “out of me” out “into you”

“You can deal with it, you can take responsibility for my shit- you’re the one, not me….why do you make me angry, throw fuel on the fire…”and on and on…unfortunately, you’re wasting your time because the blame game never works- and this self loathing is only an upside down attempt to make love to ourselves- a desperately confused endeavor that creates enemies far and wide, within and without and causes endless karmic disaster but don’t worry, everyone’s doing it…

yes, love others as ourselves, whatever- too bad that means absolutely nothing at this point because nobody is loving or accepting themselves in any deeply unconditional way. Love means not to hurt yourself by learning to fully love the one hurting and so acting out within you- this hurting one who needs your wise and helping hand- not by allowing this inner self rejection to continue to create isolation compulsively and destroy the limitless beauty that you carry. To take the ugly, disowned feelings that we struggle with and to speak symbolically, magically and in ritual to ourselves with a more wholistic understanding through the primal and mythic means of creative self expression- is an ideal and extremely effective way to heal that little pissed off and scared, yet eternally divine child who will, without a doubt will destroy you from within when you aren’t listening to that small omniscient voice of truth- however painful that truth may be- this truth is relentlessly calling from your almighty heart and you know it…

hence the psychosis, hence the panic, hence the nightmares that won’t end…

this uncared for divine child will take you down low- as far as you need to go into the darkness of your own self mutilating, masturbatory creation in order to awaken you to the realization that there are dire consequences for your actions of self abandonment- and those dire consequences will yield new unwanted directions in your life. Every action triggers an energetic response and magnetizes the possibilities of a new more progressive direction or not- which way will you go, where have you been, what are you doing now? The self violence, the cutting of our sensitive skin, the dark, angry blood that drips to the floor, the puddle of confusion we sit in, the stench of the rot of another thing we’ve killed and cannot eat, the way we throw the dead animal in someone else’s face, the way we starve our soul and stuff our face, the way we think orgasms are the love that we give and get, the way that we pile the bodies in the corner and pretend we can’t hear the flies of beelzebub that gather and circle and form a throne of flies for our future as the adult sized demonic lost child inculcated into satan’s cult of soft killing and the fumes of an unconscious subversive black magic that result…

the rot and the loss due to the slow killing of our life force isn’t imagined, it’s real. And no thing in this death culture cult will save us or change what we’ve done. This is an intervention, a stopping of the sado masochistic romance we have with ourselves based on the opaqueness of our death cult’s rites of passage and the bloodlust that this worldly culture of satan engenders, based on the lack of moral fortitude, materialism and a dulling of the heartthrob- due to the all consuming satan of egoic self obsession that is the driver of your city cab…

narcissism is the hell fear that you’re not ever going to be beautiful enough in any way- and so you obsess and hurt others by finding them “ugly” of course this feeling couldn’t just be YOU who’s feeling ugly inside because of the cruel things you’ve already whispered to yourself in the mirror this morning could it?

Self love considers where the origin lies, self love is a fountain that never stops flowing, bubbling over with devotion to the sparkle in your very own eyes, of course I see god in you, you’re a goddess because I found that it could not ever be another way. Forgive the imperfection because perfection abounds with every beat of your heart. And yet it’s a bad habit, negating our true needs for love “out there” and spiritual companionship because we are afraid of the evolutionary consequences of personal responsibilities for our GENUINE growth. You cannot use a statue of kali or a picture of shiva, you cannot talk to krishna on the wall and charm your way out of this dilemma- the consequences created by decisions made and their resultant actions due to an absolute lack of appreciation for our own divinity. A mouse in a dark corner of your room could be praying to kali too, thinking even of itself as kali, but it’s still just a mouse hiding in the corner, afraid of you and your cat and the trap with the cheese- and therefore it hides and steals food and lords it over the bugs that aren’t as big as itself. Of course this mouse could be kali, if you could but only see that this hiding mouse was you…

we must become by doing not by projecting and expecting. This is not easy, and it’s not easy merely because it’s not seen. Keep that light off of me, I’m busy saving hungry little birds, keep that light off of me, I’m writing an email to let you know you’re not who you pretend to be, keep that light off of me and let me tell you what to do with your life in my blog, keep that light off of me, it’s light enough already…

good enough you say? Good enough to get by? You’re lost in a spectrum of many layers of people and you’re buried in death by ghosts and past actions and everything is rotting to hell and if I say so I’m “negative?” I’m just a “glass is half empty” person? Right, “half full” sucks too my friend. The glass needs to be EMPTY for the LOVE to fill you. The answer is: the ego ALWAYS hates itself because it compares itself and sizes itself up constantly to other people and their reactions to it- whether it’s friends, family and peers who also are members of the cult of satan- whose mission it is to reinforce ignorance in the world around us. And so by this criteria alone the ego doubts itself and criticizes itself and continues, by the power of bad association to reject it’s only hope which is spiritual annihilation. Annihilation of the false prophet who brings you lies. Annihilation of Satan and his clan from your fearful mind.

The ego is lost in your head chatter and therefore frustrated and desperate and will always think narcissism and objectification of one’s self and others is “love.” What else could it be? It’s demonic brain shit, that’s what it is, control your mind by the power of devotion and dispel the dark forces forever.

Love is entirely empty, drain the bad blood from your head, the heart is much bigger and the ecstasy it brings is forever and true. The you without you, is the YOU within you. Self love effortlessly flows through an empty vessel and self love is simply loving the god that enlivens our being- creating vitality, engaging in good will and dharmic selfless service so that we inevitably become the divinity we are devoted to…

but, the catch is- this doesn’t happen without a battle- hence back to krishna and the war that must be fought. Hence the reason for satsang and spiritual communion- this is a big holy war and will take a big holy army. In this carnal, hedonistic, selfish world love doesn’t always come easy- though in the mother’s mystery cult of self love it’s the most effortless thing, because it’s only you breathing you- in and out- without exception…we live by her love alone- her love is all that there is, that we are, that’s actually makeable- but in this satan cult of man’s imagined gray world of cold buildings, electrical grids and artificial lighting we become consumed in the metallic shock and radioactive awe of consumerism and greed- never enough, because I’m not enough and I’m afraid that means I won’t survive. Get on top of someone else then and fight him and take what he’s got, you’re better than him anyway, you’re prettier, younger, richer than her…satan is very talkative in our fearful, clever heads- this is HIS superficial, plastic, electronic sex world that runs on perpetuated self hatred based on the little ego’s survival attempts to avoid material annihilation- and the greater the survival threat, the more vicious this tiny ego gets…and this is the bloody world wars and the famine for the spooks who eat our dead hearts and feast on our doubts- this is you thinking you’re too fat, this is you counting your wrinkles, this is you hiding like a mouse praying to statues of kali, this is you attacking others verbally and this is you silently judging- yes of course it’s all me too, nobody is immune to the viral sickness that is spreading over us like a certain Black Death- who knew, this is America right, home of the brave?

Get out of her before it’s too late- churches, banks, everywhere. FLEE
to the mountains and the abandoned forests…before you too get eaten alive by the giant wasp that brings calamity and disease to all who are not ready to rise from the ruins of what came before…

so the rape, the assault, the hubris, is all redeemable by changing directions, getting out of the demonic flow called “daily slave life in service to satan” and opening up to the simplicity of your god given pain. The divine mother light opens our wounds through others only to remind us to let the pain of infection go…to remind us that everyone needs to cry to be cleansed by what they’ve lost, we’ve lost a lot. We’ve lost our mother, our father didn’t know how to care, we’ve lost our youth, we’ve lost our innocent dreams, we’ve lost our naive idealism, we’ve lost our only friend. We’ve lost a lot so that we could become softer, more compassionate and loving. We’ve lost a lot so that we could heal -and then with nothing left to lose we could be more courageous…

and yet you let the smaller fears still determine the outcome? And still you shuffle through the house picking up other people’s plates? Come on! Buy a tent and go far away and camp by a river and pray. Eat only nature and dance naked in the breeze, tell time by the sun and be the oracle of moonlight. Gather new friends who hear your heart too, who know it’s not you that’s insane- it’s just god being miraculous god. God pushing through the shit of worldly mire and taking you out of its lies for good, taking you into the realm of miracles that make rainbows out of mantras…

spiritual annihilation of the worldly, man made cult of satan serving, egoic delusion comes by surrendering all your clinging, pride and grief and offering yourself to the holy fire of transmutation so that mother nature can consume you in her light and so you can be resurrected as the risen divine child of god that you are. This intervention is providence and the prism of this relentless self love reflects, deflects and projects love and light of the ONE sacred self as the artistic eccentricity of many in all directions and as far forward as forever can go…

the mother light violet flame of the midnight fire tells all- that the love generating shaman is a prayer wheel of her grace and lives for no man. The shaman lives for folklore, the shaman lives for myth, the shaman lives for the swiftness of earth magic and much greater things like the riches of dying daily in samadhi- and the shaman makes friends in the dimensions beyond this world and receives the blessing and guidance of otherworldly beings…

there isn’t a city, there is only a bad and horrible dream with smog and pick pockets, with prostitutes and lonely business men, with sewer rats and starving homeless people. There is only the enchanted forest where we learn what love the mystery of love really is, from deep in the river our true face shines forth. I can’t see you anymore, I only see me, you were a dream, a deep blissful dream that I loved as the wet and fragrant earth, as the dancing fairy girl, as the maypole and the crystal dome, as the song we sang together. I loved you as the fruit I ate and as the moldy pain I dried out in the sun. Naked beneath me the earth moans in ecstasy as she tells me, “you were always the one.”

And this is what I mean and what I want and what I would give to you all if I could. Self love isn’t in the flowers that we buy someone to apologize or possibly get laid- it’s in the flowers we take back into ourselves because they were never not already ours…

the ancient mystery schools of tantra taught earth magic -meaning, a return to yourself, as love. This is what we need to do, redeem what was taken from us through a masquerading of our fears that we bought, projected and protected. The light is the cult of the mother and she comes in the dirt and the worms as love fertilizer disguised masterfully as someone else. I only have you to give as my own love. I have only you to love as myself. My self who you are please do not forsake me, my self who you are where did you go? My self who you are we are empty and yearning for the star that knows the way back inside…back inside, deep inside the mystical forest, where we reside as nothing but her as her portals into luminous light.

Self love enters me and the fills me with myself as only god can…

there is another greater world that moves through us, we have the protection of the crystal guru if only we turn our hearts and minds away from this lesser world. All love is in her celestial arms, all answers are given in her cusp of her silence. Everything is going to be ok no matter what the failure or weakness may seem- if you put love of god first and you serve no satan made egoic man. If you aspire to heal and generate the one face of her selfless love, you will remain flawless and undefeated…

I said, “who is this, which one are you?” And the voice said, “there is only one face of love.” I said why am I here, which way did I go?” The voice said, “you are a free spirit and you came to spread freedom and the message of home in my heart.”

Home is in the heart of god. The star will always shine her glory back to her. Glorious one, I have no words for the greatness of love beyond name, fame, holiness or calamity. I have only her warm golden flower light spreading in my heart in all directions blossoming as spring’s promise of the divine child who wears the crown of thorns and stars and who rides the skies painting rainbows and feeding the earth the sunlight of god…

there is no satan, there are only broken mirrors slicing each other down on the ground. Come home to the star that spirals at the top of your heavenly body…

one face one body one finger pointing to god in the mirror of your mind. One face one body and one throbbing heart lost and found only in the love that never left, never changed and that goes nowhere…and so besides me, there is only you smiling and holding the flower that you always already knew…

my self, I thank you for your love.
Sharada Devi🌼

3 thoughts on “the mother cult of self love”

  1. From Tara Devi:

    Dear Sharada Devi:

    I’ll book the flight this week and keep the flight the same as you suggested, and yes I am completely not particular about any mundane details as it is true, I only have eyes for you.

    “Mother cult of self love” such a prayer and garland of pure truth … how can God in any form come into our cells and clear the karmic DNA shit storm if we’re doing junk … being trashing to self with food, drink, thoughts and the poor fucks we fuck or want to fuck us — and yet this love can never be trapped for it will come out in the most miraculous ways that very few will see and you know it for you read the air and eat the sun and sing me to sleep telling me that it’s time time to go deep into the love that is all around.

    So as I have a young child and she loves little adventures and I’m one of those mommas with very little money and so must create ways to make fun for her and so this day I took her on an urban walk Friday after school. There’s this area in the city near me that’s kinda hipster and okay to go in the day time with a kid and the shops in this area are a few of those antique stores filled with discarded things — clothing from the 40s-70s with micro moth holes and costume jewelry that’s really junk but nevertheless it’s a cheap outing and the girl enjoys the journey as it’s a fresh and rare event …

    Long short, she and I finger through a box of these cast aside babble trinkets and it’s a mess of chaos and the energy emitting from this knotted mess is overwhelming and almost revolting and then you remind me to breathe and in an instant there opens up a miracle, the ones you grant us each moment, and only you know, and a little stone white heart lands into my hand. You whisper sweet words into my ear saying, “Love is all around! Even in this mess. This heart is you. It is us.”

    We leave the area for we only touch in these dark urban areas for a moment before the maddening crowds and zombies take over and walk the short distance to our car. As we head back, I hold her hand and in my other hand, I feel you holding my hand. That loving hand of yours that burns all lies away and forever softens my heart.
    Love Tara Devi

  2. Noticing a lot of premonition activity in the past few days, alot like watching a story come into fruition playing out by ethereal design with me just observing these karmic patterns drifting into view and practicing ways to burn it up.

    Catching up or on to the ways that a lack of self love can trip one up and set you off course in the blink of an eye. Learning to recognize the signs and quickly setting myself back to I love you mode without missing a heart-beat ( well maybe a few ). Implementing new holy tools daily, what else is there to do? Each sunrise brings another opportunity to get it right, be ready.
    So with that said, you have written out about a lot of what has been running through me in the last 72 hours.

    Using words that i have written but not sent – and then they appear on your blog –
    so i know that you are in there sensing the deepest parts of me.
    But then you mentioned that ability a few posts ago, didn’t you…
    🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
    i wrote this the night before you posted
    ‘The Mother Cult of Self Love’
    🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
    i am of the ethereal plane
    there is nothing of this world
    that i wish to gain
    cast out of paradise for a brief dip
    back into damp history
    just a deja vu detour
    C’est la vie …
    toss me a blanket of stars
    to rest upon and pass the while
    a coverlet
    soft with gossamer warps and wefts
    of heavenly larvae spun from the remnants
    of my ancient past
    likewise
    of recently reeled dreamscapes
    of places where i once wandered
    of interlaces i now ponder
    float me silent and steadfast
    until the appointed time
    of venturing back
    homeward bound
    to the realm
    of my origin
    true

    1. We only imagine we are separated by time or distance- that we love and hate each other or that someone could be kind or cruel. In the kaleidoscope or cacophony of me all becomes apparent and known as you. Dreams are alive as well as harsh words, cats see the meaning with every scratch of their claw- dogs bark for food because they don’t know what love is and yet they lie next to their owners dead body and starve to death without a second thought. We have nowhere to go but into her heart where every word of every prayer and every curse is heard as the bird that wakes us up with song every morning. All is heard and known in all.
      The oracle swims and flies and watches
      all colors fade to blue before entering her deep black throat of sleep. Just think of me and I’ll be there because where else could I be and where else could I go? It’s the morning star that’s who we are…a brightness with a name inside the blackest of the black…
      new moon eyes and ears, sharada Devi

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *