Haunted by the Ghost of Him

He had me.
Right in the palm of his hands.
Yet...
He did nothing.

When the one you love is actually the ghost of the man who walks this earth, it is difficult to tell the heart that the one we love is just an astral body - the higher consciousness of the one whose name is on our heart.  The corporeal figure seems to want nothing to do with me... and my only speculation is this is due cause he would not be able to hide from me.

I know in my life, that this man would have received great blessings, very early in his life, if he chose to love me in a way that was built on friendship, and based in trust.

You cannot MAKE a Scorpio trust you.  I learned that a LONG time ago.  But what is also true, is that you cannot MAKE a Taurus lose the love in her heart so easily.  Both stubborn as fuck, and to watch these two dance a detangled tango is dizzying... but when it works - oh lord break out the fireworks.  But that is not the purpose of this post.  This blog is as much of an open wound as I am about to share with the world.  You see I am that Taurus, and the Scorpio that has my adoration is too close for comfort - quite literally.
I never fell in love with this man, for that would mean I would have lost my wits.
And so I am not falling out of love with him, that would mean I was a fool to fall twice.
My eyes have been open, and I have peered into the assholeness of this lad, and been in awe of his brilliance.  But one single moment remains when my heart chose him.  A simple conversation.  He confessed to me of him questioning the reality around him.  And I thought "YES! He is awakening." only to find that no he was not, he was just being an asshole.  The kindness and platonic affection we did playfully share with one another for a while, until... recently, was fantastic.  I thought for sure he and I would at least have an affair. But no.
We share one thing though... our dreamworld.
I feel him, and know his higher self desires my love.
I know he feels me too - yet is not obvious with his knowing.
His psychic abilities are on point, but his physical actions are fouled. 
There is so much more to him, than many would see - but now he won't let me see him.  This saddens me.  So while I write this out, know my heart is heavy, for a man whose spark ignited a flame in me, a woman who loves the ghost of the man she craves, since the physical man is not yet ready to grow within himself, and acknowledge the unique bond he shares with her.
Love is such that we are shamed to share it
In a society that would prefer drama and tension over joy.

My heart is heavy this night, and if my fellow Scorpio should happen to hear the words that pour from my soul, may he always know, that he helped me, when I needed him most.

~In mournful loss,
Arthena Sophia

Missed Opportunity

He chose the wrong one.

The path most travelled.

Thinking he could have joy, fulfillment, and self satisfaction.

He thought love was waiting for him... but it did not last long. One, two, maybe three years of marriage; or was it when the first baby was born?  He was creating what he knew, and what he also didn't want.  He was forced under the knife of obligation to acheive what a man of his background should: Get married and have children preferably before the age of 30.  His sister did, his cousin did - so why couldn't he?  And after 12 years being locked into a loveless marriage, he wanted out.  He knew he should have listened to his heart and went for that feisty older woman with the spirit of a gypsy; at least for a little while.  He knew he should have challenged the status quo, and command that he be accepted as he is, not the mold they had squeezed him into.  He made a miss-take, or received a lesson.  His heart was heavy for the love he longed for, for the love he knew the gypsy woman could have given him.  He wondered that if he contacted her after the divorce from his wife, if she would still love him.  He wondered if the touch of her hand would heal his heart.  It was this day, a glorious and sunny day, so many years after he chose the wrong path, that she had found the loving mate she was seeking.  He saw his lost love in the arms of a strong and yet gentle faced man, both of them smiling from their soul.  It was this day, that he knew, he had lived his life for other people, and never once was brave enough to live his life, for his true spirit.

~ by Arthena Sophia

Reforging the Vessel

Erotic

my head tilts back

muse

my hair canopying

like water made of keratin

pain rushing up

lanes of myelin

releasing blood vessels

into the place of 

uncomfortable pleasure

bounty

as tissue is torn and woven

to reforge a new body

I bask now in the ecstasy

of healing

while memories of

sweet torture mend

a once adhered

vessel. 

By Arthena Sophia

Revisiting the Shadows

"revisiting the shadows

of where I once stood

not once do I flinch

this is my neighbourhood

familiar by name

this dark place has become

and now where I stand

this blackness is home."

~Arthena Sophia

This place, this dark place of my own solitude and secrets smells of camphor and whiskey.  This place welcomes me again as I wonder the endless book cases of my thoughts during this life.  I walk over to one, which seems dusty n old, and read the context "growing up". As I open the pages I laugh at all of the thoughts I have had on this very subject.  Today I realized as I traveled via public transport, how juvinile we are in our 20's.  We have no idea who we are, not even individually.  We are still a slave to our emotions, even if we ponder them.  We still take everything personally.  So I look at myself, and who I have become, and who I want to be.  The things I take personally, are now meant for me to personally take, and transmute into something more.  My reaction to non-acceptance, my aggressive opinions meant to antagonize, and my reaction to ignorance, all are ways to which I am becoming mature.  Now as I transition 8 to 9 (coded, don't try to figure it out) I stumble upon an insight that I was cultivating long before this moment.  The subject of maturity.

Many people who are acclaimed minds have stated along the lines that maturity is the responsibility of self, all emotions, thoughts and behaviours. But I will take it a bit further now, maturity IS the age which one no longer needs the temperament of childhood to create what they desire.  For example: whining.  A mature person will not whine to get something, they will simply ask.  A second example is temper tantrums: a mature person will not rant and flail when they do not obtain what they want, but accept the circumstance and try another way to which they may receive it (void of emotional outbursts).

I took stock in a relationship that I had when I was 36 and my boyfriend was 22.  We lived together for a short while.  But I grew frustrated, and actually had a few temper tantrums, when he would not behave how I wanted him to.  How juvinile of me to even expect.  At 22, a legal adult is not a man, he has barely left his mother's womb.  There is no way for the average 22 year old to even comprehend the demands of life, and the responsibility to self if they choose to grow.  My gosh, at 22, all I wanted to do was dance, drink, hang out with friends, copulate, and shop.  I had no desire to work hard, save, pay bills, and be a responsible member of society.  I still lived at home, and had most of my things covered for survival.  Life was easy... but I was a brat.  When I revisit my clueless expectations of this relationship, I see how ignorant and lost I really was.  Now, as I am approached by 20 somethings, I look at what they have to offer me, and what I have to offer them - and if it is mutually beneficial.  I also must look at my realistic expectations of a relationship with these people.

I hear over and over again the cries of babies in adult bodies wanting love... yet, is their not a neighbouring infant also crying the same cries? They should arrange a play date and end their tears.  But it is not that simple.  Society expects so much of those graduating from university in their mid 20's that I feel we as a society need to stop this.  These young people are still of infant mind.  Their needs are still of ego, and narcissm.  They simply need time to grow UP.  The only sure fire way for any young person to mature at an earlier age, is when they are made to work to support the home, or go out to find food for their siblings.  Or be sent out to beg, so that the family has heat for the winter.  THIS grows maturity.  Life experience grows maturity.  Not neccesarily AGE.  I was talking to a brilliant mind yesterday how one woman I knew lived at home, unmarried, until she was 46 (when we stopped being in contact).  Yet in so many ways, she was a child.  A girl in a woman's body wanting a mate to behave as daddy.  Oh how this is so misguided in our age today.  We coddle our children way too long, and protect ourselves from them leaving the nest - but they must.  They must go out and see the world on their own.

I observe now, the millennials who are not 20'something cool, but are actually adult fools trying to find the emerald city.  They are told to do this or buy that, yet have no clear guidance how to be who they are.  This is one of my jobs, or life purposes.  Not to raise another persons adult child, but to let them know that it is ok to explore the world, to wonder the dark corridors of self, to feel all emotions and to learn to master them.  I encourage all people, of all ages still stuck in infancy, to leave the nest, to fly.  We cannot truly know who we are, until we are tested with life trials to find out.  Only through pain, pressure, discomfort and survival, will we know how strong, vulnerable, wise, ignorant, intelligent or dumb we are.  Only when we are brave enough to light a torch to enter the unknown, will we then know ourselves.

My writing of this blog is a way for me to acknowledge where I have gone, and remind myself where I am going.  today I hold onto the adage "do not let the behaviour of others disturb your inner peace." It is on this day, that I feel, I may have begun to apply this.

Peace and Light as you travel your shadows,
Arthena Sophia

Lonely & Wonderful

"I am the loneliest most wonderful woman you will ever meet.  I will make you laugh, and feel great about yourself. Yet deep down, I don't know how to do it for myself."

If you meet me, as a client, you will think I am so happy, and poised, and confident, and talented and knowledgeable.  You will wonder how I could be alone, or single, or not making millions of dollars... it is because I have been shown, I am not worth anyone's time.  Now, before you assume that I feel I am not worthy, on the contrary.  I KNOW I am worthy.  I have people that I am friendly with, but I have no friends.  No one hangs out with me, no one invites me out.  No one says "hey a bunch of us are meeting here, it would be amazing if you joined us."  I have tried to organize gatherings, to no avail.  I have invited work colleagues for drinks with an interest until a date is selected, then no one is available.  And then no other date is made.  I have gone out of my way to ensure that no one has to feel the way I do.  I am giving, and loving and passionate - Yet the only people who know live in other countries or continents.  My best friends are the 5 felines who live with me.  I have never been in a loving relationship that wasn't 1 sided.  And no man has ever adored me so much so as to go out of his way to make me feel special.  My local friends don't call, or text or even show up on my social media.

I AM AN EMPTY VESSEL

No one sees me.

My apartment is a mess cause I don't have the will to clean it, though I try daily to.  I have started to try to wear make up on most days just to ensure that I look somewhat attractive to others.  I have suffered depression but what I really suffer is from a lack of connection.  I try not to wear my pain on my sleeve cause a weeping 40 something year old is pathetic.  I am exercising, eating better, utilizing more positive self talk and yet... these feelings of woe - of paralyzing loneliness affect me.  I am in enamored with a man, who I cannot express my feelings to (it's complicated), I have a mother who adores me to know end who it would tear her heart to know I feel like this.  But I do.  As much as I bury it, it is there.  What do I want?  I want people to actively let me know that I am valued, that I matter in their life.  I want them to keep asking me to go out until I finally do  I want to stop only being down on Sundays, and I want to live my fucking life - outside!  I want to meet people who stay in my life, who actively care about what my thoughts are.  Who can have intelligent conversations with me and move my soul.  I am trapped in an undesirable body, so that keeps a lot of people away - and to top it off, most days, I don't give a fuck to dress well.

I know this time it is not SAD as I was fine yesterday - fine this week - then suddenly, like a transport truck hit me - a tsunami of emotional sorrow hits me.  And the rawness of just how alone I feel comes.  I don't know how many people in my situation feel this way - but I am sharing this now.  This is my soul.

I live in a wasteland of zombies - too attached to their electronic devices.  Too scared to make eye contact or smile.  My resting bitch face is becoming tiresome... and I want to smile!  I want to feel so overjoyed that when I enter a room, I am not faking it.  I want people to see me.  I want a man to ask me out to dinner and not then go MIA when I accept and want to make plans.  I want the man who I adore currently to know how I feel, yet I fear telling him... cause I don't know if it is real, or just perceived in a false perspective.  So I say nothing... cause really - what would it do?  I have risked before, and been left by the wayside - so now, I risk nothing.  I say nothing.  I just hope that all of the writings of eroticism allure him and he let's me know that he knows how I feel, and it is either ok, or he feels the same.  I don't wish to make anyone feel uncomfortable.

My days are spent hiding.  Watching TV shows and living vicariously through other people and characters.  I have no life, I have an existence.  I feel more comfortable dropping $1400 on a vacation in a foreign country than to drop $20 on a cover charge to meet up with people who don't get me.  Maybe I am pathetic, maybe I am to be sad and lonely all of the days of my life... but on days like this, I want it all to end.  I want to die - yet I am too cowardly to end my life.  If it were not for my five felines, I swear I would simply find a way to end my days.  I fight daily to keep my sanity, to project an appearance that everything is ok, that I am in the best place of my life.  Well I am not.  And I just wish, someone would see me, and say "hey, wanna grab a drink and have a great conversation?"

Til then, I hide in my home and cry as I write this.  It may just be a pathetic 40 something year old seeking attention, or it may just be a woman reaching out, hoping that someone sees her hand, and holds on. Tomorrow I will wear the mask of *all is well* again.  But today, I weep, and wash my soul.  Since I am the only one who sees the wonderful person that I am, and dares to give me what I need.

Broken Past

No one knew the depths of his pain, and no one would.  There was only one task to complete: the death of his uncle.  Prior to Jacob's rule, his nephew Tiron, was supposed to be king.  Yet this did not come to pass as Jacob made sure that his assassins would find Tiron's parents, and slay them and the boy.  One of the families maidens hid the boy, as it was foretold by a local seer that Tiron would return to claim back his land.  Tiron was the type of man that women wanted to serve, and men wanted to become.  He was charismatic, powerful and commanding, using his mesmerizing deep brown eyes, and bass toned voice.  He had poise and skill and would win his fare of food, drink and women.  Until Shyaan.  She put a spell upon him like no other.  And since she was not of the witch clan there was nothing that Tiron could do about it.  Shyaan had a full figure, where as Tiron enjoyed a more lean woman.  Shyaan would speak to Tirons soul, where as he was used to the woman becoming who he wanted them to be.  Yet, Shyaan was indeed a witch, just not from these lands.  Her magick was made possible by forces that Tiron would soon come to know, if of course, he took action towards this goal.  But Tiron was thirsty for his kingdom, and the demise of his uncle.  Rather than choose revenge or passion, Tiron chose them both, and would stop at nothing to have all that he had ever desired.

*excerpt of a greater work - by Arthena Sophia*

** art is "Assassin's Creed Tony Stark" by zeroskilled **

Lost on Him

She knew she was dark fae.
When she looked back to all of the days of her life, all of the luck she seemed to have surround her, and all of the people she seemed to attract was effortless.  Her magick cultivated to a ripe age of 327 earth years.  It was then she fell for the human, Jack.  Jack was a simple man, but raised from a prominent family.  His gifts were latent and yet She knew, that she could help him discover is greatest potential.  She hid her true nature for as long as she could, until the day that Jack, saw her wings.  She was having the most horrible back pain (a sign she had been human too long) and decided to relax and extend herself to her maximum.  It was then that unbeknownst to her, Jack had started to use his second sight.  His voice agasp as he looked upon her again - beautiful, dark, powerful, and deadly.  Jack had a death wish most of his entire life, feeling unworthy of the beneficial life he was given as he amounted to nothing.  She believed in him. And she befriended him.  While Jack was grateful to her for the gifts she had bestowed upon him, he still felt unworthy.  As she grew in her own power, suddenly one day, she knew, that she wasn't looking at him on level ground, but that she was slightly above him, rising.  Her frequency powering her wings as she started to recall  her nature, her power and her people.  This did not sadden her, for she knew that she had done all that she could to help Jack.  What did sadden her, is that Jack did nothing to help himself.  There was no pact made, no trade of this for that.  She simply wanted to do something good, for someone who thought he wasn't.  As she heightened her frequency, she began to attract other fae, and soon, her true mate appeared.  Sent in human form just like her.  When she peered into his deep chestnut eyes, she knew that this was the energy she would call home.  He took her hand, and they walked back to their home world, leaving only the pile of clothes they wore, as human.

*excerpt of a greater work, by Arthena Sophia*

** Art is "Night Elf" by Dropdeadcohead on DeviantArt **

Murder On My Mind

There is a calm among madness which stirs up thoughts of such ferocity, that man has not ever seen.  It is the mind of the one who desires restoration, balance, and selflessness.  It is the mind tired of those who have taken, and spit upon the misfortune of others.  It is the mind of the high priestess of whole-istic magick.  And it is the mind of myself.  Thanks to a very very strong sense of right/wrong, I know it is not honorable to kill another just cause they perturb me.  But there are moments, like today, when I need an outlet.  When I want a "purge" to take place and to annihilate those who would disrupt my peace.

I target those who are selfish, and lost so far into the program, that rehabilitation is not possible.  I have thoughts of purging their soul of evil so that they would return to a world and live in harmony, to find the love and acceptance then need to be held in grace.  

But my thoughts, these thoughts are my own torment, for I feed them the blood lust they need by mentally enacting scenes of rage and violence only a Tarantino film could emulate.  This is part of the darkness of my soul, this is the part of the side of me I hide - until tonight, where energy is being harvested during a vast hypnosis known as "american football".  I have fantasies of destroying arenas, of annihilating those who participate in rituals of the dark harvest - yet... sometimes, people I love attend. And sometimes - people are just so young and needing a distraction, their fear of self discovery carpeted over like a stain on the floor.

I am working, quite diligently to keep my sanity at this time, to not allow my own madness enough rope to actually act out on these dark thoughts - but they are there, and they want action.  So instead I write.  I write them here to give them a voice, and to share, that some of us who really want to enact a scene from a Kali-Ma greeting card, are strong enough to not engage in physical activity to support this.  That as much as the cabalic forces want me to rage so hard that I lose myself to it - which of course would ultimately destroy the very being I am working so diligently on becoming. 

I am on day 3 of menses, the high point of violent thinking and also of power.  I am also at the point where my body is so tired of being part of the minority that sees the disruption, separation and division that sport activities create.  Yet, I am also aware that I live of a time of transition.  We are removing the times of illusion, and bringing it all to light - so too shall my self that rages.  In time, she will be no more, and in time I will be able to sit in the sun, in peace and bliss, knowing I am complete, and whole in my joy.  So as you have read this, know, that this part of my mind, is kept very well guarded, and on constant surveillance by my own will.  I pray it never become compromised.

-Arthena Sophia-

*Image of Rhianna from her track: "bitch better have my money"*

A Priestess May Well Be...

You are able to recognize a Priestess only during her preparation for ceremony. Otherwise she could be anyone. A Priestess may heavily adorn herself with make up or jewelry to show status. She may also dress in attire that would awaken her power. What many may not know is that a Priestess, even when not in ceremony, is in constant communication with the other worlds. She is working to master the control of these communications, as well as to manage them when important information does come through. The Priestess will often show signs of telepathy or psychic abilities. She may also choose to hold on to this information, should she need it later against you. She is not good nor bad - she IS. A Priestess is the master of the spirit with the physical - after all, it is women who are the portal between worlds of life and death. The power of the Priestess would depend on how well she is to master herself, and her chosen craft. There are different areas where a Priestess may choose to be of service to, but no matter which faith, philosophy or dogma that she chooses, know she is a powerful force, and not one to ever be trifled with. Yet if you do cross her path, and make her cross, make amends quickly. As she grows from Master into Sage, she will learn the discernment of who to curse, who to vex, and who to just let alone. For one of the best ways to recognize a Priestess is by listening to the words she uses, or by watching her dance. A Priestess is a free, wild woman of mystery and sensuality. This is both her power, and her way to open up to the information on the other side. Oh, you may also have an idea of who is a Priestess by how open her eyes are when she looks at you. And if you only see yourself, in a way that is unsettling, that the owner of those eyes may just be a magickal woman, known as a Priestess. - by Arthena Sophia