I think it’s pretty darn cute; it looks a bit like its mother (the old site, here) but way more functional and dynamic. It’s small still, but it’ll grow; my amazingly flexible website software (XSitePro) will allow me to update it easily and often, and as I learn how to use it, I’ll be able to do some more interesting things design-wise.

I’ve timed it to release right around the time of the Capricorn Full Moon (call it an induced labour), because I, astrologer that I am, really like the chart for this Full Moon. My li’l baby website might just grow up to be something really special with a chart like this.

Yeah yeah, I know. It’s just a website. But it’s mine, it’s been a long time coming and I’m as pleased as any new mom.

So with all due “Ta-Daah’s” and “Huzzahs”, and without further ado, here it is!

Cheers and blessings to you all, and to me too
Bee

I’ve come to a momentous decision, and it’s been growing in me a long time, since I read ‘The Secret Life of Bees’ a few years ago. Having changed my name once already, I know it’s a big deal, and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience (and it is inconvenient) to my friends and beloveds.

Still, I’ve been Phoenix for a long time now, and there’s a limit to how long anyone can be comfortable as a Phoenix. It’s a turbulent path! Sooner or later, I have to just, well, Bee.

My birth name, Debra, means ‘The Bee’. I’ve always loved that, about as much as I disliked the name itself. Not that it’s a bad name, it’s a fine name! I like it fine on other Debras and Debbies I know. But it happened to be the commonest name for girls in my age group; it felt like a generic name, a non-identifier.
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“Congratulations, Ms. Wolf-Ray, it’s a brand-new baby song!”

I’ve finally decided that I need to stop taking the song lyrics I write so dang personally. It makes me invalidate and dismiss my material with ‘who do I think I am?’ type thoughts when they come through in this kind of a grandiose, messianic form.

It’s a mystery to me where the idea came from, but it came, and I wrote it, so there it is. I’m not in charge of how my kids turned out, either, but I worked damn hard to bring them forth.

Our Kingdom Come

you don’t have to lecture me
I know what I’m doing
There’s no need to rush me
I’ll get there one day

This ain’t no fairy tale,
and there ain’t no happy ending
no point pretending, everything to see
live for truth, and truth will set you free

I’m a late bloomer, I’m a baby boomer
yeah I heard a rumour we don’t have to die
it’s a hungry season, all for a reason
I don’t need to know, so I ain’t asking why

I’m asking how, I’m asking where,
I’m casting bones, I’m climbing stairs
I’ve been lying low, until the time has come,
it’s in the rhythm, the rhythm of the drum
you know our kingdom will not come
until we’re home

I come from the wilderness, I come from the root
I come bearing fruit, I come in peace
I’m coming home, and home is coming with me,

you don’t have to lecture me
I know what I’m doing
There’s no need to rush me
I’ll get there one day

I’ll show you how, I’ll tell you where,
I’ll be casting bones, I’ll be climbing stairs
I’ll be lying low until my day is due,
it’s in the flavour, the flavour of the stew
and our kingdom will not come
till we come home
oh our kingdom cannot come
until we’re home

I’m a late bloomer, I’m a baby boomer
I heard a rumour we don’t have to die

Here’s a poem for this depth charge Moon, a time when everything we hide from tries to show its face… here’s my personal nemesis, perhaps you recognize it too:

Shyness

Shyness is no joke, it sneaks in and pins you
to the board like a butterfly on exhibit,
inhibits your moves and shrinks your will
stills the flame until you forget your name

Shyness is a virus, passed from observer to observed,
swerves through witness into victim
of merciless perceptions, we watch ourselves,
shelved, packaged and presented for serving

to dragons, the demons of everyone’s denials,
can’t-be’s and has-beens, all waiting for the bucks
to stop here, while we bury ourselves deeper in shed
skin cells, digging a mass grave, save us from ourselves!

Shyness is a virtue, like patience, like chastity,
it serves the agenda of some outside authority
self-designated and never elected, simply present
and accounted for, counting all my costs.

In lieu of rent due, I shall offer my seeds to the
mouths everybody forgot to feed. All those
needy babies are coming home, and they’d
better be fed the love they deserve this time

From the time before time when the big bang
expelled its stuff to fill some kind of void,
we have ever avoided responsibility for this
work, we shirk and shudder and seek to sunder

our bonds, fond though we are of each other,
we can not bear gravity, freedom at all costs,
freedom unto eternity itself, we cry, free me from
This love, this shove into safety from the pit
I moaned and complained to escape!

Free me from my place in the puzzle, my
verse in the song, free me from the tale
I am told in, by a voice not my own, a voice
that blows like the wind and sprinkles

beauty in my mind, free me to find the true self
I am, and become it, simply, simply
I am freed into my place in the puzzle, my verse
In the song, I am freed into the tale I am told in,

By a voice not my own, that blows like the wind
And spreads beauty in my mind, I am free now to find
The true self I am and I become it, simply
and if only, if only

Shyness is no joke, it sneaks in and pins me
to the board like a butterfly on exhibit,
inhibits my every move and shrinks my will
stills the flame until I forget my name

I don’t have a fleshed out melody for this one yet, but I like the lyrics… I discovered this one in a journal entry from a few months ago.

It’s amazing how often that happens! I write things then forget about them until I read back, sometimes years later.

Here and Now

I am in my rightful home, I am queen of my domain
Sovereignty’s my birthright, my true throne is sight unseen
I am witness to the sacred, I am actor in my play,
the same one I am writing on this single blessed day
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Ah, how soon I do abandon my commitments! Not abandoned quite; it’s just that I’m not sure how to go about this project. The photos exist, piling up on my flickr page, but the poem thing, hm. I’ll do a few more now, but at some point I’m going to have to figure out how to approach this properly.

I see you
I know what you
are thinking
My eyes flash white
at your secrets
I am at the window
of your dreams
nothing hides from me
wild things grow
in your cracks,
where I live
do you remember?
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I’m thrilled to performing this weekend at Winds of Change in Courtenay (Saturday at 4pm). I will showcase original songs exploring the metaphysical pathways of real love, how to navigate its terrors and pains as well as receive and believe in an ever-expanding universe of deepening trust. Love is a profoundly transformational journey, the most rewarding and frightening path there is, and for those of us who choose it, the risks are well worth the rewards.

We all love falling in love with ‘the One’, that magical feeling of total merging, bonding with another human, being completed by your soulmate. Life is all about happy ever after once you have that experience. Isn’t it?

Not really. Falling in love is only the beginning. Love’s Heaven, when it’s deep and real, the sort that begins with that utter bliss of deep meeting your own perfect ‘other’, the one you feel safe and at home with, your best friend and boon companion, can become Hell when the beloved become the hated Other in a flash.
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I am here
you can’t see me
the light through my cracks
distracts from my face
but I’m here
patiently radiating
awaiting the day
flower faces
turn my way
and I may become myself
at last, blessed
child of Light

********
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i thought i knew
was on a path
it led into this cavern
crammed with golden strands
woven by fate-spiders
no passage here
this end is dead
i must remain
wrapped in tangled webs
i read my future
in their weavings
oh! such mysteries resolve
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The parameters for the poems are arbitrary; I look at the photo and write from the voice that I hear from that particular face, the emotion expressed, and I stop writing when I’ve come to the bottom of the photo. It seems to work out pretty well so far.

do not disturb me
for anything less
than a change
in fundamental
laws for
the way it has been
has killed me
too many times
there must be room
for my heart
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