Still Small Voice

If you’re real then where are you?

And if you’re real, then how could you?

Why do you abondon us, leave us in the hands of our mental warfare, it’s unjust of you and I don’t think I can trust you

I remember falling face down before you…all I wanted was to adore you, but you said yourself it wasn’t enough and now I don’t think I can trust you

I made myself open the blinds, unlocked the door then stepped outside and all I found was me

Yes, all I found was me

I broke the rocks, called upon the wind, fell to my knees from the earth quaking, I built a fire inside a cave, but you never spoke my name, I sat and listened anyway

Then in the silence I heard someone speak, it was a still small voice and the voice was me

This shit used to mean something  But Elijah it was your voice, baby

Fall to my knees scared to try to breathe. My own voice was foreign to me

If you’re real, where are you?

And if you’re real, how could you?

You leave us in these dark places  it’s chemical warfare behind the  Traces of lines on my many faces

And I don’t think I can trust you

Written by: Stacy Johnson 7-4-19, cycle day 9 Mother/maiden

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)

You Feel Me? Rambling Prose, maybe Rhyme…IDK IDK

Steph—-you will be the only one who grasps each line

When we were little girls we used to sing about sipping cider, now we sip our coffee before the sun

We don’t talk about what’s to come, we talk about the past. Reminiscing on our lessons, on the things that we’ve done

We laugh and we have answers—-but then, we were little girls whose dreams were lost in the patriarchy

We ponder aloud, “Who could we have been? Where could we be?” Because no matter how hard we love, this shit is still bitter tasting

“Did I ever belong to me?” I ask. She says, “No, we never did and oh my God- I was so fucking stupid.”

Don’t say that. Don’t say that; It wasn’t our choice that the system degraded us to nothingness

The only goal then was marry someone and have some children…

On our own, we held no worth

But my beautiful sister, we know now—-we know, we know, we know

We know so deeply its reshaped our bones

You know its not just keeping tabs, its using what we have, to seal up the wounds in the gaps where it stabs

That, or bleed out, bleed out—- I think they’d  rather the latter than to simply sit down and ask, “What’s the matter?”

“Oh the places you’ll go and the places you’ll see,” I grew up on that shit but its forsaken me

False promises, Seuss. Don’t say that to little girls, it causes them to dream while their under the roof, or glass ceiling really

But——We are who we needed; We are who we needed. And, We have all we need, behind our eye-lids

We let Silence do it’s work and then for our kids—-we sit with it, no teaching-no preaching—just being

Can’t wake the dead with a kiss, maybe we can rouse them with our metaphorical fists

Cause I’m not ever going to stop blasting this shit, if I ever do might as well slit my wrists—-but only with a butter knife 

So as not to cut too deep, I’m not letting go of this world, I don’t need it- but it needs me

I’m rambling on at this point because my coffee is getting cold, and as the warmth leaves my cup, my ideas start to fold

So now its time for me to sit here and think, of all the things that mean nothing and are everything to me

Rambled and Written by: Stacy Johnson (Day 2 Crone, 6-26-19)

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

Glorious Girl, a poem

So you’re turning 14

That’s a big number to mommy

You’re turning 14

I didn’t know it’d be this hard on me

See, when I was 14, I let my divinity go…

I cut my beautiful hair, I traded in lion king panties for lacy underwear

I went from having never been kissed to loving someone deeply, and being completely dismissed

At 14, my first heartbreak left me different but not totally broken

with threads of insecurity, my heart was stitched up but gaps were still open

At 14, I watched on confused as the light of innocence left me

Hell was coming, no matter how hard I prayed, no matter how much they preached grace, I still knew my place

After every sin, I knew I’d need to repent again,

and so this game of guilt and shame was one I could not win

At 14, I understood fear to be the driving force, behind every single of one my life’s choices

It wasn’t about following my heart, it wasn’t about using my smarts, I’d only be okay if I learned early to play it safe, stay inside the boundaries so I’d be covered by grace

At 14, deep longings for more, resounded in my spirit, but because of indoctrination the flow of life couldn’t heal it. My divinity whispered for me to draw near, but I simply could not hear it.

See, I didn’t know I was still perfectly precious, I didn’t know I was still totally infectious, Being a sinner is what I let define me, not the amazing woman who was hiding inside me

So, Baby girl I just have to share, you carry a warrior’s glare and you have a mighty stare,

Your wear your armor daily with your strands of gold and copper hair

YOU know your truth and with YOUR hands you build your empire, and don’t forget like a dragoness, my girl you can breathe fire,

Your veins hold the pulsing of women

who fought so hard to be here, hold up your hands and cup their courage should you ever find yourself in need, dear

You have fierce wisdom of Athena

And great beauty of Aphrodite

Put them together and channel that strength, it’s beyond almighty

In your mind you carry the intuition of Dione and you hold wilderness of Artemis, listen to the call from within, she won’t leave you mistaken

Baby girl, at 14, you can begin to manifest your dreams, you can leave people behind if they don’t align, don’t feel guilty and deep down just know, that’s how you grow

And don’t you for one second think a mess-up is reflective of who you are, when wounded be proud of your scars, and deep down in the marrow of your bones, know your beauty, your truth, and your worth.

And baby girl at 14, when insecurity creeps in, acknowledge her presence but don’t let her win, make her an acquaintance but not a close friend,

Remember you earned your place on this earth, you get to be here for this moment in time, and though you’re only 14, you’re able to see, that this in itself is truly divine

When mommy set out to write this for you, I let my mind go back in time, I don’t know why but I started to cry and so I stayed there for awhile.

That girl was beautiful with a heart of gold and smile she could not hide, but oh the sadness, such sadness were hiding in those green eyes.

I saw the Universe in those eyes, and I heard a whisper in the wind, you, JUST you, you are enough, so I let that voice rage from within,

I placed my arm around that girl sitting to my side, I said- chin up sister, it’s a matter of time, you’re gonna be just fine,

I gave her a hug and left her there

because 14 year old me, could not see it, much less try to live out and be it…

My baby girl now, I’m calling you out, I see your glory, your beauty, your grandeur….and at 14, if there’s only one thing you let engulf you and fill you up, please let it be that warrior raging within, “I KNOW I AM more than enough.”

Written by-Stacy Johnson, April 13, 2018

I wrote this last year on the eve of my daughter’s 14th birthday. I needed to channel the energy I was feeling into something positive, as 14 was a tricky year for me…

MY GLORIOUS GIRL:

******Today, I watched that 14 year old, stand before 150 high school band students and play a solo. A 3 minute piece that captured the magical essence that is my daughter. You see, my girl had only picked up a saxophone 9 months ago. Her teacher didn’t believe her when she told him she’d be first chair by Christmas, but SHE believed in herself, and that’s all she’ll ever need. She is not only first chair, but was was chosen to do that solo, I couldn’t have been prouder to watch her play up there. I witnessed the anxiety ridden tears throughout the week, but SHE GOT UP THERE AND NAILED IT. She cupped that courage and it paid off. I cried. And I’m giddy. She’s brave.

Thank you to:

My sister over at The Irresponsible Blogger, she reminded me that today was International Women’s Day and this poem goes right along with celebrating women, healing women, and empowerment of women. Thank you for reading, Friends!

My BEST GIRLS and Me (plus one sleeping lil guy):

When I don’t Exist…

Do you ever let your mind go to the place where you no longer exist?

You’ve lived. You’ve done your time. You’ve journeyed your path and then you close your eyes and are no more? 

Sometimes, while I nap in the recliner, my brain starts reeling with intensity, “GET UP! Get up!! There is so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t seen, wake up, you’ve got to get to it—-life isn’t waiting.”

I’ll nearly leap from my recliner, gasping for a panic-ridden breath.

Urgency. 

I’ll pace the floors a bit, prioritizing cooking dinner, or running away to Paris, or writing the book that’s been brewing…..Mothering wins, I turn on the stove and lose myself in the stir of the hamburger helper.

Slowly,  I blend the seasonings and the steam warms my arm…I welcome my existential thoughts back and give myself space to process the sorrow of knowing that it’s true. 

One day, I will not be here. The history of humanity will carry on and I will have come and gone.  My snippet on the timeline will be set. My face will be remembered by my children, their children, and MAYBE their children. My name will be carved into a stone somewhere, leaving passerby’s wondering, “Who was this beloved mother, Stacy?” If even that…

And while I don’t know about an afterlife, no one on earth really does—we have our choice of myths, metaphors, and musings to satisfy our need for there to be something—-anything after this life. I’ve come accept that just because we believe something with our whole hearts, that doesn’t make it true. And just because we want something to be real, that doesn’t mean it is.

That was hard to reconcile as a former fundamentalist Christian….. oh, how religion keeps us wrapped with its false promises…. an abusive affair indeed.

I stir on, and I let myself feel the warmth. I look at the sunlight beaming in. Dust particles float in the rays, a  shimmering glitter dancing suspended in a haze. 

I am here now. I am here now. Feel your breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth. 

Letting go of what’s to come, holding with gratitude what is. 

I am here now. “Okay, kiddos, dinner is served.” Four faces fumble into the kitchen, eager for food. I watch them, they are my sacred endeavors. They are my cycle, my season, my continuation…

One day, I will not exist, but because of them, parts of me always will…

Thanks for reading… XO