Alive Mind and Spirit

Awaiting Winter Solstice

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 16:02:09 GMT

As winter solstice approaches, we experience the year’s shortest days and longest nights. Where I live it is dark before 5 pm and not light again until just after 7 am. This is a time to enjoy snuggling under the blankets, sleeping long hours, dreaming deep, and waking late. Our bodies tell us to slow down, to rest, to turn inward. This is a time to reflect. Not a time for doing anything.

Decorate your home with lights and colored balls, enjoy your friends and family, eat well.

When New Year comes there will be time enough to decide what you want and need to do to save yourself and the world.

Spirit of Peace

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 22:20:27 GMT

When President Obama announced the escalation of the war in Afghanistan, I felt overwhelmed with sadness and disappointment.

Sadness because I believe this is a war that cannot be won. The goal of the war is to “hand” the country back to an Afghan army controlled by the Karazi and his corrupt cronies. Not an inspiring thought.

Sadness because war is never good for women, children, and other living things. Rape is an ordinary part of war. Bombs do not spare women, children, old people, animals, or plants.

Sadness because this war will encourage people around the world to hate us.

Sadness because soldiers on both sides who have been taught to use violence to solve the world’s problems will be bringing this lesson home—it is foolish to expect that they will not.

Disappointment because I had hoped that President Obama stood for change I could believe in.

The escalation of this war—along with Obama’s reliance on Geithner and Summers and his failure to put the power of his office on the line for a robust public option in health care—leads me to believe that he does not.

Obama is not listening to you or me but to the white male power structure that caused the problems he is trying to solve.

More and more, I fear, he is “blinded by the white.”

I felt paralyzed.

Then the “Spirit of Peace” song came to me.

Spirit of Peace
To your cause I give my strength
That love may reign and war may cease
Spirit of Peace

I begin singing to the Spirit of Peace again and again. As I sang, power surged back into my body.

Later in the morning I sent the Spirit of Peace to all of those who filled the airwaves defending the war.

I imagined the Spirit of Peace descending on Michelle and Sasha and Malia to the point that they would not be able sit quietly at the dinner table.

I was singing Spirit of Peace when I signed Code Pink’s petition against the war.

The White House got so many emails originating from Code Pink that they called its offices to complain that their lines were becoming clogged.

Will Obama listen to us?

If we all started singing to the Spirit of Peace whenever we feel anger and despair about the war, we would create an incredible vibration.

The Spirit of Peace just might descend upon our president.

Meanwhile the Whitehouse has changed its email. Sing while you write.

EveryDayMagic by Juliette Lauber - 3 December 2009 - Musings on the December Winds of Change and the Butterfly Effect

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 22:42:51 GMT

Yesterday we ushered in the month of December with a Full Moon in the astrological sign of Gemini. I watched wide-eyed as the enormous orange globe rose at dusk. I woke just before the sun rose to watch her set, deeper in color and larger in influence. On the morning of December 2, the moon appeared larger because she was at perigee to Planet Earth, close in orbit. On the morning of December 2, there was also a subtle, barely perceptible change in the air. The planet Uranus had stationed and was preparing to go direct. Is it possible that one speck of energy as small as myself could "feel" or perceive an event so far away? Or was it a mind trick of hope? Does it matter?

I prayed to the Moon Goddesses, Artemis and Hecate, that humanity be filled with her light. I rattled my rain sticks in a sharp winter wind on the high desert plateau of Santa Fe and asked the Twin Moon Goddesses to bring on the fulfillment of hope and the release of fear and doubt. It's time to manifest a new destiny.

"Be gone the old paradigm of fear-based patriarchal societies", I chanted, as I danced with my shadow. "Fill me with spirit. May I be inspired and grateful for all the goodness in life."

This is what the cosmic wizards say about December. In numerology, December is a five month, and five is the number of change. Prepare for warp drive because the planetary conditions and the opening of energetic portals, (11/11/09 and 11/29/09), along with the wondrous magnetic light of the full moon are illuminating a gateway for the shift to a paradigm of collective consciousness rooted in the sacred feminine.

November is gone. And many might say good riddance, except for the joy of a four-day Thanksgiving holiday weekend in the States. The trouble with November was
Saturn squaring Pluto, described by astrologers as the strain of trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. There was a lot of challenge in that friction, which is now said to be resolved. We are now, in December, ready to receive an enormous amount of new information that cannot but shift our terre forever.

The first two days of December have removed the roadblocks and light up the yellow brick road of resolution. The pipeline of information is flowing and the information is visible. So open all of your senses and tune your frequency to a high vibration. Turn your virtual faucets on and let the water flow; be open to experiencing the unexpected. Watch the waves wash positive change onto your shore of reality.

It's time to let go of the old and live each moment as a new and precious gift. It's time for us to expand into new spiritual frontiers.

The Sabian symbols for this Full Moon are evocative pictures of what that shore of reality might look like:

The Moon at 11 Degrees Gemini: "Newly opened land offers the pioneer new opportunities for experience; the power and joy of new beginnings."

The Sun at 11 Degrees Sagittarius: "In the left section of an archaic temple, a lamp burns in a container shaped like a human body; the value of the 'return to the body' advocated by modern thinkers in order to balance the stress on intellectuality and objective consciousness."

So don't get lost out there on the ethers exploring the higher realms of spiritual frontiers.
Stay grounded, anchor your kite to the ground and remain in body…and in touch with your physical reality.

As Stephanie Austin, writing for The Mountain Astrologer, aptly puts it, "Uranus' station direct reminds us that each of us is a butterfly—that each thought, word, and action contributes to the global weather of our times…[t]he Full Moon propels us to release what is no longer working…"

Full throttle into a pioneering month of December. May we all be fearless and bold as we explore with love our new frontiers. From Uranus, the God of Chaos, the Great Void, let us create beauty through love.

Wishing you love and light and fearless acts. Until the next time, remember: Magic is Afoot and the Goddess is Alive!

Juliette
We must continually change to become ourselves.
Teilhard de Chardin

Ps. More news next time from Kikki and her journey in Hotel Atlantis.

Pss. And stay tuned for news on the mystical conjunction of Neptune, Chiron and Jupiter in Aquarius to take place on December 7 and the energetic portals of 12/12/09 and 12/21/09.

It's the holiday season, and for our American Thanksgiving weekend, we have had much for which we can be grateful.

EveryDayMagic by Juliette Lauber - 5 November 2009 - Musings on Celestial Happenings at the Full November Moon

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 16:23:35 GMT

It's been awhile since I've written. Not since September when I began to post excerpts from my mystical thriller, Hotel Atlantis. So I beg your patience as I find my "blog" voice.

I hardly know where to begin. It's a busy time of the year for most people operating in the conventional world. Sometime toward the end of the week last, as the moon waxed to full, I began to hear the world grinding its gears in fever pitch. As the light of the moon increased to full on Monday, intensity increased.

A mere two or three days later, I still feel Luna, the glorious Moon Goddess beat her drums. She wants something from us. Something from me. I am listening. I talk to her when she appears and my dreams are vivid so that when I awake, I feel as if I haven't slept but have been out riding the ethers in and out of adventure.

Fittingly, the Moon was full, or nearly so, for Halloween, a holiday and festival of old known as Samhain, marking the end of the pagan year. Witchs' New Year, as it is known to many.

Time to have a bonfire and burn the old. Time to sing and dance with friends. Time to reflect quietly and turn inward to see where the magic will be for each of us in the days and months to come. An opportunity and a clean slate.

I've read the celestial news from a variety of astrologers and cosmic watchers and the news is pretty dramatic. It seems it has been thus for some time. Today, as your celestial muse, I can tell you this. With the Full Moon in Taurus opposite the Sun in Scorpio, we find ourselves at a point when the divine feminine is manifesting in its destructive abilities, breaking down outworn structures. We've got to go with the flow. Resistance is futile.

Destruction of the old is as inevitable as change. Think of destruction as creation, because it surely is.

The old order is breaking down and this is exciting as long as we don't go into fear. Stay awake and proactive. Watch for your portals, however small. There will be signposts. Move in and explore. Follow your intuition and lose your mind. (A neat trick that works wonders of EveryDayMagic.)

Hang your witch's hat on the hope that is brought with the direct motion of the great benefic, Jupiter. As I write this blog, know that both Jupiter/Zeus and Neptune/Poseidon are in direct motion, joined by Chiron, the Wounded Healer of the Tarot and the Rainbow Bridge between the inner and outer planets. This continuing triple conjunction (loosely speaking), in Aquarius, the 11th House of hopes and dreams renews collective spiritual gifts, building a new collective bridge with more solid humanitarian foundations. A bridge to a new beginning. Watch out for your bridge person, an evolved Fool of the Tarot, who rather than leaping into the chasm will take your hand and guide you across.

So create magic and tear down together. Reset the balance and harmony. Do both with honor, integrity and beauty. And while you play and work, know that your actions, your thoughts are part of the quantum universe. We are co-creating as a collective consciousness, (and subconscious, too).

Slow down, smell the fresh damp dirt mixed with newly fallen leaves. Hear the music as leaves crunch under foot. The subtle whispers and rattles as a breeze dances through the leaves that still cling to branches. Marvel at the clever black ravens gliding and squawking. Watch for the small miracles of magic. And yes, mourn the old, grieve for what is lost among the passing of summer pleasures. And then luxuriate in the deep energies of the autumn. Be in awe at sunrise and sunset. Be grateful for the more intense blue of November skies in the Northern Hemisphere. Pay attention. Feel. Breathe.

Be fearless in your actions and audacious in building your dreams. Trust that you are on the divine path. Don't hurry magic or love. Greet them both eagerly.

The Sabian Symbol for the Full Moon at 11 degrees Taurus is: "A woman watering flowers in her garden; development of the powers of the mind on which ego-consciousness is based." For the Sun at 11 degrees Scorpio, "A drowning man is being rescued; the deep concern of the social group for the safety of individuals."

We need to look out for each other as a society and focus our minds on renewing what is really essential.

I had Kikki, my alter-ego heroine of Hotel Atlantis draw a card for me this morning. The first card was the Seven of Swords, Orestes, stealing into the castle to commit matricide against his mother Clytemnestra to avenge his father's murder at her hands. It was the same card she drew in the first chapter of the book.

She nodded wisely, and whispered, "Destruction of the old order through the feminine." I grimaced and asked her to draw another. Her eyes were downcast when she drew The Tower. This time, I cried aloud just as a raven squawked angrily, hovering over the pond.

The Tower depicts King Minos' Labyrinth struck by an earthquake, as it tumbles into an angry sea. Poseidon, God of Earthquakes and God of the Sea rises from the stormy depths, trident thrust toward the King's castle. The card symbolizes the shattering of structures and the destruction of the old order. Perfectly in keeping with the energies of the times.

I will write more on this card next week. Better yet, Kikki will tell you what happens when old patriarchal structures become riddled with power, greed and the need to dominate no matter what the cost to the whole—and how the Goddess can fight back on her terms.

In the meantime, watch out for earth movements, rising waters, violent storms, falling rocks and an angry Mother Goddess. And remember:

"Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass…it's about learning to dance in the rain!"

With light and love until the next time,

Juliette

Brigid of the Triple Flame

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 18:44:52 GMT

I am journeying to the sacred centers, sacred mountains, and sacred caves on the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete. Do consider joining us next spring or fall for a life-transforming experience.

Meanwhile enjoy this song to Brigid by Patti 0’Luanaigh who is taking an internet course with me in the Women’s Spirituality Program at California Institute of Integral Studies.

Brigid of the Triple Flame*
Brigid of the triple flame,  the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns brightest Brigid, and it burns for thee. Brigid of the triple flame, Goddess of poetry, the force that flows through you Brigid, sings life's song through me. Brigid of the triple flame,  the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns hottest, Brigid, and it burns in me.
Refrain
Brigid of the triple flame, the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns brightest, Brigid, and it burns for thee. Brigid of the triple flame, Goddess of healing ye be, the force that flows through you, Brigid, channels healing through me. Brigid of the triple flame, the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns hottest, Brigid, and it burns in me.
Refrain
Brigid of the triple flame, the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns brightest, Brigid, and it burns for thee. Brigid of the triple flame, Goddess of alchemy, the force that flows through you, Brigid, shapeshifts through me. Brigid of the triple flame,  the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns hottest, Brigid, and it burns in me.
Refrain
(After each of these stanzas, which are sung in a lilting tune I composed, I sing in an Irish brogue this following syllabic refrain)
Die...die...da...da...da...die... da..da....die...die...da...die... Da ...da...die...die...da...da...da...die... die...die...da...die...
(Then one last time)
Brigid of the triple flame, the flame we can't see, is the flame that burns brightest, Brigid, and it burns for thee, flame that burns brightest, Brigid, and it burns in thee....
*Patti writes: I call her "Breej.”

Sheela na-gig from Tara Hill in Ireland
Patto writes: Ending your book She Who Changes with the re-imagining of symbols lets us creatively imagine and contemplate what is yet to come, all the intriguing and exciting possibilites before us. As you say, "What may be different is that feminists are conscious of our part in the process of symbol creation...we also recognize the need to ensure that the symbols that we create enhance and affirm life." This is a potent way of transforming the world, and one I want to consciously be aware of as I write poetry, songs, plays, prayers, ritual, or liturgy. I want to learn to trust the light and darkness and "see" anew.

EveryDayMagic by Juliette Lauber - Musings from Hotel Atlantis at the October Full Moon - 8 October 2009

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 16:16:23 GMT

As a continuing seasonal offering to the Earth Mother Goddess, Demeter, following is Part Three of an excerpt from my forthcoming novel. This will be the last posting of the season. Good things come in threes.

This post is dedicated to my father, an inspiration, a man of light and Mother Earth.

Hotel Atlantis

Chapter One continued:

Kikki turned to see Cleo lift a well-drawn eyebrow. “Can’t wait to meet Pepe!”
“I wish he was already here!” Kikki smiled and turned to the sea, eyeing the sun, now a huge yellow ball poised over the glittering aquamarine sea. She automatically looked down at Amoudi Bay, when just on schedule a replica 18th century schooner cruised up to dock. Captain George cranked the gay Greek music so it echoed loudly in the harbor, a familiar ritual that on other days would have made Kikki smile. Not tonight.
Tonight her thoughts insistently returned to a past life from the time just before the volcano blew—a story that Cleo had yet to hear, but soon would. She turned back to Cleo.
Cleo reached out and laid a hand on Kikki’s shoulder. “Are you ok, Bella? Your eyes are huge dark pools.”
“I’m ok…really. Let’s read the cards, né?”
“Only if you’re sure that it’s the right time,” she pleaded. “Won’t Orestes bring bad luck? You always say the cards never lie, so maybe we should wait on my initiation.”
Lost in her own thoughts, Kikki merely tipped her eyes up in a Greek “no." She was jittery and worried about the eclipse and the coming portal to that past life. What might it bring? Nostradamus had predicted that this cycle of eclipses, tonight being the second, would end the world. But she couldn’t tell Cleo that. Not now.
All of a sudden Cleo yelled, “Oh shit! Dammit Galahad!” She jumped out of her chair, full wine glass in hand.
Kikki turned to see her white cat back up into the table, causing it to teeter. He hissed at Cleo and tore into the house. As she tried to right the table, Cleo’s wine splashed out of her glass onto the table. Kikki allowed the ridiculous scene to break the tense mood, and said, “You’ll be getting married soon, Cleo. Old Greek superstition.”
“Very funny, but not me, Bella!” She mopped the table delicately with a napkin and poured more wine. “But imagine—you’d be more than just another foreign local if only you’d married a Greek. And this business venture would be a lot easier.” Cleo’s mouth dropped open like she wanted to swallow the words.
“Like, say, Adonis?” Kikki said bitterly. She savored the last raw taste of the island’s coarse wine. And then in Greek tradition, she stood up, focused her anger at Adonis and spit over the terrace wall. Cleo stood and did the same. Aiming for the sea, Kikki silently vowed to keep him and the evil eye away from her and Hotel Atlantis.
At the same moment, they both looked down at the bottom of the cliff. His throne, the old-fashioned wooden deck chair with the green leather seat, still lay broken at the bottom in the dust, along with a clump of his clothes and broken dishes that Kikki had heaved off the caldera in a long overdue fit of rage two summers ago.
“Let’s not bring him into the present. He’s the past.” Kikki said. But darkness shadowed her just as the sun sank into the sea brume and her ears filled with the distinct sound of an African djembe.
Cleo turned to the sun and whispered, “Fucking maláka, Adonis! I wish the bastard was dead!"

Chapter Two

Kikki shuffled, hands and fingers moving as if she inhabited a mystical dimension. She fanned the deck out on the table face down and drew three cards: The High Priestess, The Moon and The Wheel of Fortune.
“Wow!” Cleo said.
“Powerful cards—all from the Major Arcana, the archetypal quest.” Kikki studied the colorful images of Greek mythology.
    Cleo picked up The High Priestess with two long scarlet talons. “Persephone in her bridal whites, pomegranate in hand, walking down a long set of stairs into Hades’ cave. Marriage to the Lord of Death.” Cleo put the card quickly back on the table as if it were fire.
“She crossed over into the secret enclaves of the Underworld to learn its hidden mysteries,” Kikki said. “As the story goes, no mortal could cross the River Styx without paying a coin to Charon the Ferryman.”
“But Persephone got a free ride—sort of.”
“Cute, Cleo.”
“So are we all taking a ride across the river of death this weekend, or just me?”
“All of us.” The question is, Kikki thought to herself, who would come back?
When Kikki touched The Moon card her fingers vibrated heat. “Hecate, the Full Moon Goddess, a powerful and terrifying beauty, and Cerberus, her animal form, the three-headed mythical beast dog.” The card caught a strange blue-green flash from the sun’s last light. “Look, Cleo. She also has three faces, for the phases of the moon—most importantly, Artemis, Huntress of the Dark Night skies, also known as the Wild Child.”
“Wild Child, eh?” Cleo said wryly. “I can do that!”
“I expect nothing less. The Moon has been pounding her magnetic energy on this already highly charged island for days. Tonight she will hit maximum light, the most powerful moon of the year. Full on Goddess power. The Sacred Feminine will rule their ancient feast, with Mary along for the ride to heaven on Greek Summer Easter, Feast of the Ascension of the Blessed Virgin.”
Cleo caught Kikki’s eyes, now twinkling with storytelling and merriment.
“Not to worry, Cleo. We’ll both be riding our brooms with the Moon Goddesses!”
    Cleo leaned carefully over The Wheel of Fortune, not touching the card. “And the Three Moirai, Goddesses of Fate—grim job if you ask me. Look at them!” Three black-robed and hooded women sat around a golden spinning wheel in a dark cave, while four tiny humans clung to the wheel. “More caves. What is it with Greeks and caves?” Cleo bit her upper lip and then chuckled and said, “Totally suitable melodrama for a Greek summer weekend. I’m not sure the Virgin Mary would think much of these three witches. They even give me the shivers." Cleo glanced at the sun and said, “Be right back. I’ll get the champagne.”

He waited in the shadows and willed her friend to leave his woman’s side. Just for an instant. That was all he needed to work his alchemy.
His eyes sparkled sea green in anticipated pleasure when the red-haired woman pirouetted out of her seat and rushed inside.
He began to draw his message in the soft dirt, primitive pictures with colored chalk, as he had always done. He focused on the image and imprinted it on his third eye. And then he let it fill his body and fly out through the window of his soul. He sent her an ancient choice.
He froze the red-haired siren inside the house. His woman must be alone to fully receive and understand the message. Zephyr, Goddess of the West Wind, slammed the front door shut, knocking over a pot of geraniums. Scattered red petals formed drops like blood in the shape of an arrow. It pointed toward him.
He thanked the gods and stepped out of the cave. Silent moccasins covered the short distance down the gully of the cliff, closer to his love.

Kikki was startled out of a dark voyage of spirit when she heard the door slam. An ill wind embalmed her with a fine layer of red dust and pumice. And then the wind stopped, as suddenly as it had come up out of nowhere. She crossed her arms across her solar plexus and pinched her thumb hard to stop the otherworldly vision that threatened. And then she sent him an answer in a silent scream. “Never!”

With joy and light, thanks for reading. Stay tuned.

Juliette

Ps.
Click here for Part One on 17-18 September and here for Part Two on 28 September.

Hotel Atlantis Copyright © 2009 Juliette Lauber and VGT Holdings

Hail Mary

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 14:06:17 GMT

Hail Mary!
           Full of frustration—
           I am with you.
           Oppressed art thou
           along with all women—
           and oppressed are the fruits of thy natural biology—
           your ability to give forth Life.
           Holy Mary, mother of life,
           pray for us who have been
           made to feel guilty for
           giving life too…
           Now, and at the hour
           of our realization.
           Amen

This re-rendering of the traditional Hail Mary prayer is by Lori Swick who writes, “it relates the pain I felt being trapped in such a fiercely patriarchal concept of God—and the ways in which this male God had co-opted all birthing imagery.”

I wonder how many of you have felt this too?

I am off on the Goddess Pilgrimage to Crete today.

EveryDayMagic by Juliette Lauber - Musings from Hotel Atlantis at the Autumn Equinox - 24 September 2009

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 16:02:20 GMT

As a continuing sesasonal offering to the Earth Mother Goddess, Demeter, the Eleusinian Mysteries, the Equinox and other seasonal festivals of light, following is a Part Two of an excerpt from my forthcoming novel. If you missed last week's scroll back to find Part One on 17-18 September.

Hotel Atlantis

Chapter One continued:

He approached soundlessly, soft leather moccasins silent on the stone path, bare suntanned chest hot, but not from the stifling August temperatures. Heat radiated from the center of his being, the heat of the hunt.

His all-seeing eyes pierced the steep volcanic cliffs and Greek villages of his island. The moon’s magnetic pull tugged hard at his electric male center. The first sliver of red moon was about to rise from the depths of Poseidon’s sea. A moon soon to be shadowed by the darkness.

The eclipsing moon would draw her to him. The portal that would open with it—as powerful as the one that had brutally wiped out this corner of the world with the most violent volcanic eruption in history—would sweep her back into his arms where she belonged.

He returned to the mouth of the cave, just out of her sight, and sat on his haunches. Handsome Greek head tipped downward, greenish-hazel eyes opaque mirrors of volcanic fire, he wedged an African djembe drum between bare thighs under a purple sarong. His being merged with the drum’s fierce war beat. Hands struck the drumhead in a frenzied solo–his call to mate.

Kikki could feel the swirling dark energy coming from the depths. Every cell in her being could feel him watching from somewhere near—her ex-lover, Adonis. Was he Orestes?

She took a deep breath, grounding herself. Within seconds, she heard the faint pure tone of bells and looked up toward the terrace wall. Right on Kikki’s cue, Cleo opened her door and came out playing finger cymbals to the beat of Greek belly dance music. A wave of relief washed over Kikki. She unclipped her blonde hair, shaking it and the darkness out, and welcoming Cleo’s company. “Get your gorgeous ass down here, Cleo! Where have you been, you little witch? It’s nearly sunset.”

“Ela, Bella!” Cleo shouted Kikki’s nickname as she leaned over the rounded bow of the upper terrace’s wall. “I’m coming. Perimene.” Wait.

As she watched Cleo descend the spiral stairs, Kikki admired their own wall painting, a window-like panel on the cliff-face between the two layers of the hotel—the Costuming Scene from Akrotiri’s House of Ladies. Two women assisted the High Priestess to dress for a ceremony—one held out a formal kilt and the other a necklace.

Cleo seemed to leap out of the side of the mural as she stepped barefoot onto the lower terrace—but for the totally 21st century Santorini Summer look. Long beet-red hair swinging, she wore the shortest of shorts and a halter top that left her lean body bare. She swiveled her hips and twirled her arms, dancing through the sea of café tables and chairs, leaping over terracotta pots of red geraniums in front of the main cliff house, and out to the tip of the terrace where Kikki stood waiting.

Kikki sat down again and Cleo pulled up a matching captain’s chair, sighing like a cat as she sunk into it. “So here we are back on our thrones! Celebrating our creation at last,” Cleo said, gazing at the wine and glasses on the blue metal café table between them. “You didn’t save much for me!”

“Hah! Nice of you to deign to join me.” Kikki turned to Cleo and laughed, feeling deep warmth and affection, relieved to have Cleo at her side. She stretched her arms over her head and then gestured with a wave of hand. “Help yourself, Cleo! You usually do. Let’s savor a private moment of victory teute seule, né? Before long, in a couple of hours Greek time, we’ll have the whole village here for our opening party.” Kikki propped her feet on the low wall. “It’s such an incredible view! I can never get enough of it!"

“Mmm, true,” Cleo murmured, pouring scarlet liquid from the bottle of Santorini’s Atlantis Red. “And the caldera is stunning this evening—almost like one immense diamond, fitting for the occasion, and peaceful— so far.” They exchanged a look.

“Yiasou, Bella!” Cleo said as they clinked glasses. “Here’s to a full hotel and a Goddess’ abundance of Atlantian hospitality!”

“Stin ygeia sou!” Kikki echoed and held Cleo’s eyes. “I’ll drink to that!”

“I’m sure we’ll be wildly successful,” Cleo said with a broad smile. “How can we lose?”

Kikki looked back toward the sea and took a slow sip of wine, drawing out the upbeat moment. And then she turned toward Cleo and said quietly, “It’s about an hour until sunset. Time enough, Cleo…”

Cleo avoided Kikki’s gaze and pouted full lips into a mirror, applying another coat of blood-red lipstick.

Kikki placed her thumbs and forefingers together into a diamond-shaped mudra to hold the energy steady. “Don’t be nervous, Cleomou.” She added the affectionate diminutive to smooth the way. Kikki only wished she could heed her own advice. It wasn’t as easy as she wanted it to seem to Cleo.

“Don’t worry, be happy, eh? Island motto!” Cleo set the mirror on the table, lifted her glass and gulped.

As the teacher mentoring the initiate, Kikki struggled to hold their playful camaraderie. From the tone of Cleo’s voice and her body language, Kikki knew it was a lost cause, so she tried for a gentle segue into the serious matters at hand. “Why don’t we start by throwing some tarot cards to get a read …”

Cleo interrupted before Kikki could finish the sentence, her face a frown. “Hold on a minute. Something’s wrong…and you’re not telling me. Your energy is funky. What is it? You got a bad omen, didn’t you? Some kind of negative vibe, right?” Her voice was almost demanding when she said, “Look, if this is my initiation, pes mou. Tell me!”

Kikki tilted her head slightly in a Greek gesture of “yes." She turned and held Cleo’s dove-gray eyes, and on a long exhale said, “The Seven of Swords fell out of the deck.”

“Orestes! Oh my god, oh my god! The Greek curse!” Cleo set her glass down hard on the ledge and a hairline crack appeared. A slow finger of red wine ran down the stem and began to puddle on the wall. She stood and backed away to avoid the single red droplets staining the new white marble terrace. “Wait! We can’t do anything until we clear the energy, Bella. ”

Kikki nodded in agreement.

Cleo lit a white sage wand and waved it around the cards so the smoke curled and then spiraled, finally forming a white ash cloud. Then she circled the table blowing on the wand until its flame grew. She enveloped herself and Kikki, and apparently satisfied, nodded and sat down again. She left the wand burning in an ashtray on the table. Its pungent odor clung in the humid sea air and a thin finger of smoke snaked around them, as if in blessing, and rose.

They were both silent. Kikki meditated on the last daylight of Friday, August 13, and the cliffside that seemed to be holding a collective breath. Stark white houses stacked like gingerbread in their neighborhood, known as Sunset, Heliovaselima, shone with a surreal light —a movie set of paradise—and well, perhaps, Atlantis.

After a few minutes, Cleo seemed to pull out of her own thoughts. And then she asked in a trembling voice, “So do you think that card means it’s not the right timing for the initiation?”

“No,” Kikki said firmly. “I’m still certain we’re right on schedule.”

Cleo sunk deeper into her chair, head down, and averted Kikki’s gaze.

Worried her friend might be close to tears. Kikki rose and sat on the ledge in front of Cleo. She spoke gently, “Cleo, it’s your path, your karma.” Kikki extended a hand.

Slowly, Cleo lifted her head, “Okay. Entaxei.” She gave Kikki a serious look. “Just tell me one more time, Bella…”

“What? Anything…” Cleo seemed to be coming out of her fear state.

“It doesn’t mean I have to be a nun does it? Because I refuse to give up men or sex!” A wry smile lit up her face.

Kikki burst out laughing. “Have you seen me give it up?” Her thoughts turned to Pepe Torres, her lover of the last few months, an old love found again. He was a Spanish cop who worked for Interpol, scheduled to arrive on the island tonight for a long romantic weekend, or so he claimed. But she new better—he was on a mission.

Kikki was pleased to see Cleo’s mood lighten, and even more when Cleo grinned at her like a pixie. “Stop reading my mind, will you?” Kikki slipped her phone from her pocket.

Phone to her ear, she hit the voice mail button to replay his earlier message. Pepe’s deep sure voice brought a vivid mental picture of his dark soulful eyes and handsome face framed with thick black hair. Listening again reminded her that he was real, and he was hers. “I’ll see you in only a few short hours, querida. Can’t wait to hold you in my arms and feel you touch me…” he said with a drawn out purr. Kikki’s thighs pressed together, feeling the heat of desire.

* * *

With joy and light, thanks for reading. Stay tuned.

Juliette

Hotel Atlantis Copyright © 2009 Juliette Lauber and VGT Holdings

THE WHEEL TURNS: FALL EQUINOX

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 16:04:08 GMT

September 21 is the Equinox, one of two days of the year when day and night are of equal length. The most striking feature of September in the latitude in which I live is how quickly the days are shortening. Just a month ago the sun was still setting at 8:30 pm and now it is dark before 8. In a few short weeks, it will be setting at 7 and then when daylight savings ends at 6.

In Greece this is the time to harvest the last of the summer fruits. In my own garden the quince is laden with golden globes and the tits have already begun to pick at the pomegranates: their blue and yellow bodies against red and orange are so beautiful that I leave most of the pomegranates for them.

In Crete where I will be going on pilgrimage soon, we recreate ancient rituals with processions culminating in placing first fruits on altars dedicated to the Goddess as Source of Life. She gives to us. We give to Her. She gives to us. We give to each other. This is our life.

We do not give so that we will receive, we give in gratitude because we have already received--from our mothers, from others, and from the earth—in a circle that goes back to the beginning of time.

As the wheel turns from summer to fall, it is time to give thanks for all that Beautiful and Bountiful Earth has given to us. And to think of what we can give back to the earth and to those who have generously shared its abundance with us.

EveryDayMagic by Juliette Lauber - Musings from Hotel Atlantis at the September New Moon and Autumn Equinox - 17-18 September 2009

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 16:07:12 GMT

As promised, and in honor of the Earth Mother Goddess, Demeter, the Eleusinian Mysteries, the Virgo New Moon tomorrow, Rosh Hashanah, Ramadan, the Autumn Equinox and other seasonal festivals of light, following is an excerpt from my forthcoming novel.

Hotel Atlantis
Prologue

They were waiting for him inside the cave, sitting in a circle of three. He wasn’t surprised. He had been expecting them, the Moirai: the three Greek Goddesses of Fate who wove destiny. He had been playing with her tarot cards earlier, in her secret temple, and turned up two. This was the first: The Wheel of Fortune depicting the Goddesses of Fate. Now they had come to life and they were here to talk.

“She will be mine again before the weekend is over,” he began. “You owe me.”

“You are not the arbiter of your fate. We weave it for you.” They spoke in chorus.

“It was written that we should be reunited in this life.” His words echoed in the cave.

“We are the progeny, the children of the depths of night. The oldest power in the universe. You cannot countermand our decision,” they said in stern unison. “The Daughters of Mother Night owe no accounting to Father—to the Man born of the patriarchal order.”

“We are of the Mother Moon,” said Clotho, the spinner and the youngest, who sat with her spindle, spinning a golden thread, young and pretty, full of hope, like the crescent moon. “You have been allotted a thread that does not shine gold. Like your aura. It holds the darkness of your soul, your karma. You have mistreated the Mother. You have laid hands on precious objects that belong to the Mother Goddess.”

    “But I will not keep these ancient treasures. I will woo her with them, protect her, and gift them to her as my mate. They will belong to the Goddess through her,” he whispered. “Will that not redeem me, lengthen and brighten to gold my own thread?”

Lachesis, the measurer, the most beautiful, who embodied the energy of the full moon, whose very night it was, answered. She held out the thread that her sister had spun. “Your motives are not pure. They are base. You have mistreated her in this life, and through the ages, since you were first together in that time long ago. You have abused Mother Earth and the Goddess for your own purposes, and desecrated the past by stealing these objects. You seek revenge. You are full of conceited desire to possess what is only light. The light of Gaia, and her light, the woman you profess to love who makes her home here on the cliff.”

   He advanced, anger riding him. She was his true and only love, and he hers by rights.

   The third Moirai, the cutter, stopped him. He sent her a defiant look, eyes flashing.

   “You know me as Atropos. I am as my name. I am she of the Fates who cannot be avoided. I determine the length of your life, the time and place of your death. I am the Dark Moon. Tonight she will be dark, eclipsed by shadow. Your fate awaits you. You have not walked in the light. You have succumbed to the ego and the darkness of the underworld.”

   “But I seek to redeem myself,” he insisted in a hoarse whisper. “Through my present acts, I can change my karma and my destiny.”

   A screeching sound—sheers cutting the thread of his life —filled the cave. His drum beat loudly in accompaniment, though he did not touch it.

   The Three Fates began to recede into the darkness, becoming one with the dank dirt walls. He lay prostrate at their feet, imploring good fortune.

   “Our work cannot be undone—not even by Zeus himself. Your destiny is woven. Your time has been allotted,” they said, once more in chorus.

   He wiped tears from his face. And then he stood and readied himself to meet his fate. He bowed to the Moirai and prayed for outcome in his favor. Their melodic chants were borne across the west wind as they flew toward their heavenly home. He couldn’t hear the words, but he was certain they had granted him the destiny he deserved. He felt sure they had smiled upon him as they vanished into the night. She was his. For she, too, had her karma. She owed him her favor—her love.

Chapter One

Kikki Trieste fingered the black-and-gold-crested deck of tarot cards in her lap. She took a deep breath and let the cards roll expertly through her fingers. Still, she did not look. Not yet. As she rocked back on the legs of a captain’s chair, she kept her dark eyes on the sparkling azure sea of Santorini, dashing against the ancient cliffs of her island. This view from the marble terrace of Hotel Atlantis—her hotel—was the realization of a dream that had endured lifetimes.

Kikki let the deck rest in her palms. Her skin stung with energy. The Fates had picked their card. A chill traveled her spine. She took a deep breath as the card dropped.

Orestes, The Seven of Swords. The ill-fated prince from the cursed House of Atreus, his was one of the most powerful of Greek myths.
Working to steady her trembling hand, Kikki touched the image of Prince Orestes, the dark and dangerous son of King Agamemnon and Queen Clytemestra. The card depicted Orestes as he slipped stealthily into the palace at Argos. Under the cover of a stormy night, his identity shrouded, Orestes was answering his fate: to commit matricide to avenge his father’s murder.

According to the myth, stuck in a karmic chain of fate, Orestes had the right to kill his mother in cold blood. An amoral code that Kikki barely understood, much less believed—for it demanded a mind devoid of values and emotion. A mind without soul, far from the nurturing heart and the light of the goddess that Kikki and the ancient peoples of her island had worshipped.

As Kikki forced herself to hold the card, goose bumps ran from her fingers up the length of her arm, as if a chill breeze had suddenly whipped through the sultry air. It was nearly sunset and over 100 degrees with humidity to match, typical weather for high summer.

The cold came from within her and from The Seven of Swords that cast an evil spell on Hotel Atlantis. She dropped the card abruptly. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to be alone.

She stood and scanned the upper stories of Hotel Atlantis. Like a mirage, the freshly whitewashed hotel seemed to glow from the high cliffs. There was no sign of Cleo Manet, her best friend and spiritual sister. No belly dance music coming from Cleo’s private cliff house. Kikki’s keen psychic antennae couldn’t pick up Cleo anywhere.

Tonight Kikki would begin Cleo’s initiation as High Priestess of the ancient Goddess. Her friend’s help was vital this weekend. This August full moon had long been marked the time for Cleo’s rite of passage. As reining High Priestess, Kikki had taught her all she knew. There only remained certain ancient ceremonies and secrets to be passed down, stories to be told. And Cleo’s heartfelt consent. Considering their history—that past lifetime more than 3,500 years ago on this island—Kikki fully understood Cleo’s fear.

In those still moments at sunset when the veil between dimensions was sheer, Kikki felt keenly the ghosts of 1628 B.C.

Suddenly, her eyes were drawn to a flash of white on the winding staircase down to her terrace— a young girl in long, white, silk robes, bare feet, shaved head painted blue with a ponytail and a dark forelock. Exactly like the Young Priestess initiate in the Wall Paintings of Thera at Ancient Akrotiri, one of many sacred murals unearthed from the volcanic ash that had buried them for thousands of years.

Kikki wiped an invisible shroud from her eyes, and when she looked again, there was no one at all on the stairs. The eclipse wasn’t upon them for another few hours, but its energy was manifest. Kikki was already straddling worlds. Vulnerable to ageless enemies.
                                       * * *

Stay tuned. And until the next time, dance the light and embrace the dark night.

Juliette

© Hotel Atlantis by Juliette Lauber and VGT Holdings.

REMEMBERING 9-11 WITH RESPECT AND HUMILITY: CAN AMERICA WIN A “WAR” ON “TERROR”?

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 16:33:19 GMT

In a recent article in the Nation magazine, Robert Scheer dared to speak the unspeakable: namely, that while a tragedy, 9-11 was not a tragedy on the scale of either the holocaust or the atom bombing of Japan. In a world that includes Darfour, why do Americans continue to see the destruction of the World Trade Towers as “the” tragedy” that defines all others? And why does our President feel it needs to define America’s military strategy in Afghanistan?

A war in Afghanistan is unlikely to be “won.” This spring a young man who had fled Afghanistan and arrived as a migrant to my island, Lesbos, Greece, tried to explain the recent history of Afghanistan to us. He told us of ethic rivalries that even before invasion by the Soviet Union and the reign of the Taliban had created long-standing inequalities in the nation. He told us that his friends and family still in Afghanistan felt a short-lived hope when the US and Nato forces entered the country. These hopes were soon dashed when the current leaders of the country proved to be more interested in kick-backs that would line their own pockets than in democracy.

As warfare intensifies in Afghanistan any hopes that women could be “liberated” by western forces is made a mockery. War—every war, present and past—is bad for women. Women are the victims and the “spoils” of war. If there has ever been an army in the history of the world that did not allow or even encourage its forces to rape women, I have not heard of it.

A war on “terror” is also not likely to be “won” and certainly not “won” with warfare. Violence breeds violence. If there has ever been a time that it did not, I would like to hear about this too. If we truly wish to win a war on terror, we will have to give up the “battle.” We will have to turn our swords into ploughshares and help to rebuild countries devastated by structures of domination and injustice, war, and colonialism.

I suggest that the best way to “remember” 9-11 is to remember that war and violence never solved any of the world’s problems. There is no justification for a US war in Afghanistan other than the misguided belief promoted by President Bush that the world is a simple place in which “good” can triumph over “evil.” But we are not unreservedly “good” and our alleged enemies are not unreservedly “evil.”

Is this war or any other the proper subject for a column on spirituality? You bet it is! Religions created by men have promoted the idea that we can go to war with God on our side. I suggest that this is never was the case. No Goddess that I could ever worship would ever promote any war.

May we join together to create peace. Blessed be.

EveryDayMagic by Juliette Lauber - Musings on the Corn Moon and an Energetic Portal - 10 September 2009

elizabeth@alivemindmedia.com (Elizabeth) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 16:30:26 GMT

Celestial and cosmic events have rocked the end of summer whether you have been simply gliding Poisedon's waves or been blown hither and yon by the Goddess of the Wind. Unusually, for early September, we are still having thunderstorms and rain in Santa Fe, even though the temperature has dropped by about 20 degrees.

EveryDayMagic™ has filled lingering summer days. Bears have lumbered down from the mountains to forage food, leaving the courtyard littered with half eaten peaches and bare pits. From the deck, which overhangs a wildlife area along a tiny stream which here is called a river, deer have wandered in broad daylight, in search of food. Doe eyed, not more than three feet from me, we locked gazes.

Still, I admit to feeling a bit like Penelope, the Queen of Wands, of my last missive. Though I'm still holed up in Merlin's magic forest, I am far from my favorite Greek island and Paris, my City of Lights. I frequent them nightly as I can. In my dreams I sip champagne with friends in a favorite Paris café, or dance all night to Greek bouzouki and singing under the full moon at a seaside party.

But life and the Goddess herself have conspired to keep me in place, so I might see clearly from my bedroom window last week the nearly full moon rise over forested peaks next to bright and benefic Jupiter. Or the mystical full moon veiled by high clouds shining in my window at the witching hour of 3:00 a.m.

Despite the magic, my inner turmoil hit fever pitch just before the Full Moon in Pisces of last Friday, September 4. Also known as the Corn Moon, Luna blew out the electro-magnetic field for many. She also initiated the period in Classical Greek Mythology of the Mysteries of Nature, the Eleusinian Mysteries.

On my personal labyrinthine journey, I mark the six-month point of my sabbatical.
After a long conversation with a good friend just before Luna peaked last week, I decided to take a step back, recule and vacate for a few days.

My personal angst is not unique. Many others are walking this same path, trying to find balance, working to make dreams come true. Living on faith.

The Sabian Symbols for the full moon in Pisces with the Sun in Virgo tell us to stay calm and look for creative, nonviolent ways of resolving conflicts, problems and uncertainty.
For the Sun at 13 degrees Virgo: "A powerful statesman overcomes a state of political hysteria," and the Moon at 13 degrees Pisces: "An ancient sword, used in many battles is displayed in a museum."

Lay down your Excalibur then and let the feminine energy of Virgo, a sign represented by the Mother Earth Goddess, negotiate peace within and without. She is nurturing. She feels with her head and thinks with her heart. She comes in many guises. She may be Demeter or Athena; she may be Artemis; she may be the Indian Red Kali; she may even be Hermes, known as Mercury, the communicator and ruler of Virgo.

Listen deeply with your heart. Turn off the mind chatter, and then you can be ready for warp drive. Let go. Jump off the cliff and build your wings on the way down. (Ray Bradbury, as quoted by Stephanie Austin in The Mountain Astrologer, Aug/Sept 2009.)

My dreams have been vivid. And I'm counting on the Mercury retrograde period that began in earnest on September 7 and will last until September 29, to give me the time and inspiration to re-vision and re-frame my dreams. I am watching and listening for important missives from Hermes that date back to the last eclipse of this wild summer on August 5.

I'm hoping that a lot of big magic will be revealed when Pluto at zero degrees Capricorn goes direct again on the morrow, 11th of September, not to return for another 200 years.

The paradigm in which we live is changing to a more evolved and balanced way of being, to a model that embodies the sacred feminine and creative consciousness. Yesterday we experienced what some say is the last big shift on the road to alignment with the new paradigm. An energetic portal opened on September 9, 2009, 9/9/9.

The energetic shakeup that shifted with the Summer Solstice will be completed.
As part of its dynamic, the male energies have been re-aligned to be more harmonious. It is a dramatic break point from the old paradigm created by the emergence of the patriarchy of domination, power and greed, at the time of the fall of the Theran-Minoan Bronze Age civilizations, and earlier at the time of the fall of Atlantis. We are now on the road back.

It's time for us to decide what we really want. It is important during this time to dispel negative thinking, doubt and cynicism. We cannot create change, we cannot live our dreams, and we cannot have EveryDayMagic™ if our inner feelings are not in harmony with our purpose, our intentions and desires.

Perhaps what you had once envisioned has changed. Align with whatever you wish to manifest. Review, re-see, re-envision and see what magic you want in your life.

If you begin to doubt, treat yourself to a viewing of the latest photos of the deep universe taken by Hubble, which I happened to catch this morning. They will blow the negativity right out of your mind and fill it with wonder.

Until the next time,

Juliette Lauber

Ps. Stay tuned: Next week, I will post an excerpt from my forthcoming novel, Hotel Atlantis. The heroine, Kikki Trieste, is a fictional 21st Century High Priestess who uses an energetic portal to fight for the Goddess.

The Butterfly from Hubble Telescope on 9-9-9