The soul is infinite, made up of aspects that come and go all the time. It__ our nature for parts of the soul to travel while we meditate or dream. Through this process we grow, we learn new thoughts, thus desires, and our consciousness evolves.
To the non-initiate, whose experience of sexuality and bodily pleasure may be distorted by negative cultural conditioning, the introduction of sexuality into a sacred context is often mistakenly misconstrued as the ordinary pursuit of sex for recreation.
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To the non-initiate, whose experience of sexuality and bodily pleasure may be distorted by negative cultural conditioning, the introduction of sexuality into a sacred context is often mistakenly misconstrued as the ordinary pursuit of sex for recreation.
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Consciousness is naturally shamanic.
I__ either with you forever, or I__ not. I__ not into games or fucking around. I__e had enough experience to know what to hold onto when I get it.
A shaman and a writer each serve as their communities_ seers by engaging in extraordinary acts of conscientious study of the past and the present and predicting the future. An inner voice calls to the shaman and an essayistic writer to answer the call that vexes the pernicious spirit of their times. Shamanistic writers induce a trance state of mind where they lose contact with physical reality through a rational disordering of the senses, in an effort to encounter for the umpteenth time the great unknown and the unutterable truths that structure existence. An afflicted person seeking clarification of existence cannot ignore the shamanistic calling of narrative exposition. Thus, I shall continue this longwinded howl _ making a personal immortality vessel _ into the darkness of night forevermore.
Himmlisch ist's wenn ich bezwungen Meine irdische Begier; Aber doch wenn's nich gelungen Hatt' ich auch recht huebsch Plaisir!Loosely translated:It is heavenly, when I overcomeMy earthly desiresBut nevertheless, when I'm not successful,It can also be quite pleasurable.
Do you ever wear leather?" the guy asks."What?""Leather. Do you like leather?""It doesn't exactly wipe me out.""I like to see boys in leather."I look at him cool. "Okay," I say, "what is it you want and how much are you willing to pay for it?""I've got a leather jacket upstairs...Would you put it on?""Just put it on?""I'll go and get it." He leaves the horror hole and returns a few minutes later holding a leather flying jacket with a lambswool collar. There are tears in the jacket's sleeves and the lambswool is yellow with age. John Wayne could've worn it in one of those crappy war films he made. "Put it on," the guy says.I give him a spiky smile and put on the jacket. "Okay, where's the plane and what time's take-off?""Drop your jeans and turn around.