Meditation

I like to wake with the sun

sit alone and listen to the birds tell their stories

I like to watch each of my thoughts escape from my grasp, 

They float off on the breeze, and I smile as they pass 

I am not my thoughts, I am the consciousness behind them

This is important work for me, this sitting in silence 

I have to accept that believing what my thoughts tell me, would lend  itself in the long run 

to a deep rooted misunderstanding about the nature of me

See Someone told me once, that I was a sinner—-that I was in need of saving, and that my own being was so corrupt, 

so contaminated 

that I could not be trusted to save myself

I believed it, oh-how completely and fully I believed it, I built my whole life around it

Every single day, I placed my value and my worth in the hands of another and I believed that following the paths laid before me, was the way of love, all the while, not loving myself

Then, I started to look at the brave ones, the greats, the ones history tells us to trust, and I started to see that unlike brainwashed me, they’d stepped out on their own, they’d branched off from their crowds, they’d left the comforts of that which had always been for them, to pave a way to what could be

And they did it alone at first

And each and every journey they took, began with getting to know silence

——-I’ve heard it said before that sometimes the quiet is violent

And I’ll agree

The inner work that has to be done to undo Every Single False Belief you ever let sit in your psyche because someone before you planted it there, will break your fucking bones

But, YOU can and YOU will put them back together 

And when you do, NO ONE will ever be able to deny the radiance that is and always was YOU, from the moment you were born—there was no magic age when suddenly you went from worthy to unworthy—-you, simply by being here were enough all along

NO ONE will affect you with their thoughts or their beliefs about you………or themselves 

For you, you see right through it

And you understand that Somebody Somewhere told them about their condition and they believed it and  they chose it, and they’ve made it work for them-so they built a life around it, and it’s comfortable, and you remember what that’s like….

But never do you wish it for yourself again

Because as for me, I like to wake with the sun

Sit alone and listen to the birds tell their stories 

I like to watch each of my thoughts escape from my grasp

They float off on the breeze, and I smile as they pass 

And, I am not my thoughts, I am the consciousness behind them

Glass Jars, Moonlight, and Intention

It was the night of a final full moon-  the decade had been so long, 

She’d had enough, done calling all bluffs, time to sing her old new song 

So she stepped outside

And lit fire

To all the pages

All the phases

All the stages

All the faces

That didn’t serve her, and didn’t deserve her

Dropping them into to a jar made of glass

She watched as the water  turned from clarity to ash

Shattered.

Something within her broke. 

Held up her arms in the darkness and the smoke—

Yelled, “Moon-do your Work! 

Can’t take another minute of sitting with this hurt.”

Closed her eyes, closed the door, closed the blinds

Turned on reality, turned off the lies

Sometimes the words come, without having to try 

Then there she was, 15 year old me

Little blonde head, fairy wings, and big dreams

She said, “Stacy, you’re still me, and now you’re strong enough to set some boundaries. Only you can set you free.”

Climbed into my own baptismal bath

Soaking in the brokenness of the pain in my past,

Let the salty water, burn my wounds clean

Let the voices from within rectify me

I’m calling on you, You, the someone deep within

The one who holds the echos of my loved ones, my  friends

I’m calling on You, to come and give me the words

The courage

The boldness that screams

You don’t deserve this, and you never did

I’m calling on You, for gentle wisdom in my bones 

The kind that only comes when you refuse to throw stones

Help me be gentle, but HARSH

Leaving no room for longing in the dark

Help me speak every word with extreme accuracy

Leaving not a single gap for crazy-making

I have been silenced, but only we know

Time to break curses and time to let go

A thousand ancestors lifted me up out of the bath. Woundedness dripping off me, time to speak out the past

Leaving puddles of yesterday, down the wooden floor path, each drop holding memories of rage released on me in wrath

Yes, It was time enough, I was coming for me, Nobody else could do this work- if I were to ever be free

Didn’t need another soul, just the girl that I had been

Before I picked up his darkness and made it my friend

Phone rang. I began to speak,  Unveiling Every Action that’d ever hurt me

Like the glass jar soaking in the moonlight illuminating every burnt trait that I’d accepted in my life

The moonbeams read them out to me, so I spoke them loud and clear, And each time I said, “No More,” a wound would disappear 

Something spiritual was happening as I spoke my own worth over me, I was untangling the ethereal cord that had been attached from him to me

Finally, I could hand it back, Said, “I think this belongs to you.” I can try to help you unravel yourself

But I won’t carry it all for you, you’ll have to be the one to see this work through

I will not bear the weight of your wounds, I am not the reason for your pain

And all this  time instead of healing yourself You poured your poison into my veins

I’ve choked on it, drowned in it, trying to get myself back to me, trying to come up for air from the pools of rage you spew at me

And if you’ll admit that you need help, Then we can find who you’re suppose to be

Before you were wounded, before you had bruises, before darkness called your name

I will stand beside you, but YOU have to lean into your pain

And, I am not your pain. 

I. Am. Not. Your. Pain. 

But I can be your full moon clarity, And we’ll call each wound by name.  Call every single broken piece out until you are free from them,

We’ll watch every ash and ember that rises into the night, cause we know healing  comes when we set our intentions in the glow of the full moonlight. 

In Vain

Help me understand this-
I’m calling on you,
Yes, again—I’m calling on you

Speak to me, please

Quiet tears seep
And I just need your anything

Are you listening?
Can’t you see my cries?
Can’t you see that calling out for you has become my demise?

But I will keep on,
Cause its all I know to do

And my tears will seep on because of no response from you

Does it break your heart to watch me plead?
Does it break your heart to withhold from me?

Or are you just not there,
So why should I care?

I’ve been wired to believe
You’re just a bit out of my reach

And I hang on just enough
To know not to call your bluff

When I see someone claim
That you’re holding them

I can’t help but call on you completely in vain
Then I sit and I wait

I sit and I wait
Eager like a child listening for magic to arrive

And I have been a good girl
So why do you hide
Can’t you see that calling out for you has become my demise

These people say you speak to them, its got to be a delusion
Either that or a chosen confusion

Cause even when I was truest of trues
Peace came at the moment that I would choose

I loved having something to call on
Even better was someone to fall on

But reality is, it was in my head
Nothing concrete but a neurotransmitters release

It did what I needed
Filled up the gaps of my synapses and also of my pleading

My brain won’t allow cognitive dissonance anymore
So today I sit here on the floor

Asking again, which way do I go to get closer to you?
Nowhere,
because I am speaking to the air?

With Every tear
Every prayer
It becomes clear
Either you’re withholding from me
or
You’re
Just
Not
There

By Stacy Johnson 8/3/19

Paper Near My Pen

I’ve never been more scared to have this paper near my pen

I cannot control the words pouring from my limbs

Sometimes my words are my tears

Then again, sometimes they’re my peers

See, if I let you read them, you can use them against me, you could beat me with my own bones, instead of just throwing stones

I like stones better, they just peel off my skin-that means you’re not using my own thoughts as the weapon…

If my bones are my words, then I’m built by them, and if I’m built by them, and you look in, then you can see how close I am to crumbling

I tell a different story from the outside looking in, And no one really knows in my mind what’s happening, Not until I sit down and put some paper near my pen

And if I let you in, you win

And if I let you in, you win

See, I’ve never been more scared to have this paper near my pen

Cause I cannot control the words pouring from my limbs…

Written By: Stacy Johnson 7-4-19 (maiden/mother day 10)

Belly of the Whale

Put down the crosses you’re carrying

They weren’t ever yours to hold
Someone placed that thought in You if the truth be told

But

You are enough just being you
And when you’ve had enough
You can be someone new

Keep on pushing

Keep on losing

Any path that wasn’t your choosing

You need to exhale, need to befriend your doubt
Cause you can’t fill up what’s never been without

Sink down into your unbecoming
Float in the sea of the unknowing

Cause in the deep
The tomb does its work

And it’s there in the quiet
resurrection leads to a birth

Do you understand what I’m trying to say
Its a glorious darkness inside the grave

From the belly of the whale it’s a slow escape
but you can learn to enjoy the burn of a dimly lit flame
Only if you let a fire lead the way

Of those gone before you who lit up their torches
Of those who beat down the path so that you could now forge this

Follow their lead, come alongside me

Together we can come up for air, together we can learn to breathe

We’ll burn down the bridges, we’ll untie the strings

No puppet, no master, just a reckoning

In the belly of the whale, I set myself free What kind of savior throws his child out to sea? Only one who is setting up a false delivery

Don’t ask us to be what wasn’t meant to be
In the belly of the whale, I chose me

——————Nineveh can wait til I’m ready

Written by Stacy Johnson 6/29/19 (cycle day 5 crone)

‘Cept for when I do

Do I believe in an afterlife? No!!!

‘Cept for when I do….

When my grandmother’s voice from beyond the grave, finally breaks through

Do I believe in re-incarnation? No!! That is too silly,

‘Cept for when I do…

When I become aware of the thread that’s linking me to you

Do I believe I’ve lived past lives with lessons to behold? No!! That cannot be true,

‘Cept for when I do…

When my dreams come with future wisdom and I drink in the deja vu

Do I believe in the guidance of the fates beyond? No!!! I really, truly do not

‘Cept for when I do…

When every moment from my life has me standing here with you

Do I believe in soul ties, binding spirits quietly? No!!! And, I probably never will,

‘Cept for when I do…

When my sister sits across the country sharing the same story I just told too

Do I believe in magic by the light of the silvery moon? No!!! Absolutely not,

‘Cept for when I do…

When by its light I break the need to speak ANYTHING but my truth

Do I believe in spells and candle light to bring about something new? No!!! I never ever could,

‘Cept for when I do…

When as the candle flame burns away my energy is renewed

Do I believe in Signs from the Sun-the Moon-the Stars? No!!! That’s a bunch of whoopty whoo,

‘Cept for when I do

When it all aligns in perfect time to reflect my being from the expansive blue

Do I believe in Gods and Goddesses? No!!! HA! Blatantly false–I could never presume,

‘Cept for when I do

But only when our bodies unite and we give each other life from just us two

Do I believe in Logic and Reason? Yes!!! They will always always WIN,

‘Cept for when they ask me to silence my experiences within.

Written By: Stacy Johnson 6-1-19, (cycle day 7, maiden)

The Work of Clouds

I saw a cloud of splendor,
it was floating on a breeze.
I thought of its good fortune,
without a single aim to please.

It was just as it is,
no desire, expectation, or lean,
An elemental compound 
without a recollection of me.

I stood in awe of its color,
the blue, the gray, the green,
and as I looked upon it,
my pain within began to scream.

Oh, to be that cloud,
out of every person‘s reach.
Just suspended in forward motion
without the slightest thought of needs.

Then  I watched that cloud spill over
from fluff to angry beast, 
and in a few short moments 
the cloud shed tears as my reprieve.

Perhaps it was looking down
and saw a girl with a cloud all her own.
Then decided to rinse the gray from her, 
to strip her down to her gloom-soaked bones. 

Maybe the clouds can only 
make room for so much gray,
and after that they must unleash
for we both can’t stay that way.

So the cloud gave way to falling,
did the work of its heaviness.
And upon the on-looker below,
a cleansing downpour of tenderness.

I stood with heart wide open,
receiving what was nature’s drenching gift.
And with every drop that rolled off me,
my gray turned from its bitterness.

Fading from the atmosphere,
the cloud drifted to nothingness.
I whispered, “Someday, not just yet,
I’ll join you,
in the place where we don’t exist.”

By: Stacy Johnson, 4-28-19





Inspire.

I hope, I hope,  I hope like hell 

you wear your feelings loud, not well.

Blast your heart from roof to roof.

Make sure this world knows your whole truth.

Your every experience is important, 

You can’t let your thoughts lay dormant.

Inside your mind you hold the key,

It sounds cliche but listen to me,

This Universe is on your side,

Conspiring to ease the tide.

There are no corners, no walls, no seams,

Just Endless possibilities 

What could be, what could be, 

If you just step out- if you just break free.

There is no such thing as break the mold,

The mold is not real, there’s no such hold,

No such hold, weighing you down.

Listen, can you hear the sound?

“You’re supposed to be here,

You ARE  supposed to be here!

Do something. Do something. 

JUST GET IT STARTED,

It doesn’t have to be clear!”

It’s all on You, it’s yours hands that create,

Don’t tap out, don’t take the bait.

You CAN DO ANYTHING, BE ANYTHING,

BUT first you must let yourself Dream Things

You must, you must be willing to dream, manifest  in your thoughts, see the unseen.

With your  hands- work, 

With your soul- receive, 

let go of fear, 

then 

Achieve. Achieve. Achieve. 

Written by: Stacy Johnson

Thanks for reading, Friends. 👣❤️🔥

Your child is not a Christian

Recently while listening to Richard Dawkins’, “The God Delusion,” I had to pause and let some of his words wash over me—they were cleansing, if you will.

I won’t quote him directly, but here’s the jist:

**There can be indoctrinated children, and there can be children of Christian parents, but there are zero Christian children.**

Obviously, a few years ago I would have wanted to battle back and proclaim that MY children were believers and students of the Holy book. I would’ve scrambled to find the flaw in his statement—- but deep in my noggin, I would’ve been arguing, not with Dawkins, but with my own indoctrination.

As much as I would’ve wanted to believe my kids WERE Christian kids, the truth was—every belief they possessed came directly from me or the Bible stories I’d allowed them to learn. Sure they knew scripture, but how did they learn it? –Me, a curriculum I’d chosen, a class I’d taken them to… Sure they knew the prayers, but how did they know who to pray to and the format of recitation? Me! These weren’t things they would’ve ever approached on their own. They were simply babies who wanted to PLAY! But my kids were my echo chambers, they were simply regurgitating by beliefs right back out at me. It’s scary to think how deeply I had sculpted their entire world view and reality. Shits terrifying, man. Wheeeew. Breathe. Even scarier is the way some folks never realize what they are doing….

Fortunately for me now, as a deconstructed exvangelical, when I read Dawkins’ words, I was in complete and total agreement. It was actually freeing to hear someone else saying what I knew from my own childhood and in raising my kids.

Every single attempt at raising Godly kids is a form of indoctrination. From reciting scripture, creeds, and prayers at young ages, to attending weekly services, to routines of the home. Every time a parent intentionally places their belief system into the mind of their child, they are indoctrinating that child. Every time a child declares they are saved or that they’ve had a God experience, it is simply a replication of what they’ve witnessed from adults around them or is a fictitious response to hormones released in emotional situations. Again, a fabrication of that child’s reality set up by someone else.

Children are born religion free. Again, when a baby is born, their brain has zero knowledge of any religion. Yet, they are divine. They come to us with an awe-struck curiosity for the mystical experiences of nature. They are bright eyed and eager to explore, they worship in the form of wonder. Wouldn’t it be grand to approach guiding them, with that same joy of learning that they implore. When THEY ask about God, faith, sins, the devil, as parents we show excitement and present them with timelines of all the major world religions, allowing them to see for themselves the bigger picture. There is NO indoctrination in that method. And, there is no right answer, therefore no pressure to conform out of fear.

I remember the fear that being a Christian places within parents. The “their blood is on your hands,” approach to training up children. Hell, I pulled my kids from school so I COULD INDOCTRINATE them to think like me.

I remember feeling afraid when they “sinned.” I remember crying out to God that he would guard their hearts. I spent literal nights awake trying to envision a way to best teach them so they’d know God’s Love….

But now I see, if you look at your child as a fallen being to be saved, you’ve lost the chance at letting the magic of life teach them. Their own Life is their best teacher. You are cutting them off from their own flow when you’ve set the default state of being as a religious one. They have very little chance at growing beyond that default setting, and for many Christians that is their hope.

How sad. But that’s what you get when generation after generation sits in the church pew and never does the work of thinking. You get uneducated worldviews, partnered with indoctrinated beliefs, sculpted into little robotic beings, passing off their ideals as the ONLY right way, all the way into their adulthood, and this then repeats itself with their children. And it’s ALL misinformation, but they live from default because it’s safe and requires no conscious effort to learn new ways and new information.  It’s frankly, an irresponsible way to live.

For me and for my children, I did the work of reprogramming my default settings. They will not have to deconstruct, they will not have to “go astray” or “leave the fold.” Together, we are free to let Wonder, Curiosity, and Life be our teachers. Please join me in ending the brain-washing of our youth-they deserve better. They deserve to be the joyful explorers that they were literally born being. Let us, as adults, give our children the space they need to be here, free from your default settings.

Thanks for reading! XO

Dear Patriarchy

Dear Patriarchy,

I was placed into your grasp as a little girl. I ate the crumbs from your gnarled and mangled hands. I watched you work the system and create a breed of subservient little female beings. You chewed us up and spit us out and told us our purpose was to simply be present to help You. You needed our fertility, open our legs for your pleasure and your cum. Carry your babies so you don’t fade away into oblivion. We sit here now foaming at the mouth ready to rip your fucking throats out, and you tell us to smile, keep quiet, be a lady. Meanwhile, you’re lusting for the blossoms in the church pew, with your pious and godly wife sitting right there beside you. But she doesn’t know how to be the Slut you need. The Sacred Whore within, she’s never unleashed. You did that to her. You, Patriarchy! You told her to be good, but with everything you are, you like em bad. So so bad. You told us to be honest, but you’ve got your secrets. You snicker, and you smile, and you keep things under the table. Your army, your squad, your “good ol boys”—- they uphold you as the Man among men, and while your wife may be fooled cause she’s a product of her raising, just know-your daughter won’t bow down to ANY SYSTEM that’s degrading, she’s not just the winds of change-she’s a fucking tornado. She is tearing this shit down and you don’t know what to do. You hang on to your faith cause it ALWAYS WORKS FOR YOU. Cling to your traditions, the empire built by men for men, but your daughter yells, “No!” She’s watched and she’s listened to every command made on her mother and her sisters, she’s thirsty for the blood of every person whose ever said, “A woman’s place is in the kitchen.” She is harsh and bold and she is ready to hurt your feelings. She yells, “Fuck you and fuck your religion! You pieces of shit-stealing the minds of the innocent, and they can’t even think critically enough to harbor resentment.” Your daughters are coming for you, Patriarchy, are you shaking in your work boots? We are coming for you, right after we untie your shoes.

Written by: Stacy Johnson