December 26, 2013

Alexandrite, a scarce gem formed through a rare and powerful combination


Alexandrite is Beryllium Aluminum Oxide (BeO Al2 O3.) The happiness stone, worn for increasing wins and invoking the change you want to see.

The stone may be used to help one return to the origin of time and to connect with the beginning of one's development.
It is considered a stone of very good omen. 
In critical situations it is supposed to strengthen the wearer’s intuition, and thus help him or her find new ways forward in situations where logic will not provide an answer. 

Alexandrite emerged millions of years ago in a metamorphic environment, like many other gemstones (sapphire, diamonds, ruby, emerald.) But unlike many others, its formation required specific geological conditions. The chemical elements beryllium (a major constituent in chrysoberyl) and chromium (the colouring agent in alexandrite) have contrasting chemical characteristics and do not as a rule occur together, usually being found in contrasting rock types.

Not only has Nature brought these contrasting rock types into contact with each other, but a lack of the chemical element silica (the second most common element in the Earth's crust) is also required to prevent the growth of emerald. This geological scenario required to create this chemical composition, which creates Alexandrite, has occurred only rarely in the Earth's history and, as a result, alexandrite crystals are very scarce indeed.
 International Colored Gemstone Association

Among the stones most sensational qualities are in its optics, it reacts to light, and changes color according to the environment it is in. You can also see within this stone a "cat's eye" when the quality includes silky inclusions. In daylight it is bluish-green or even emerald-green color, and in the artificial light it may be red, crimson, purple-red and violet-red. 

It is said this stone is emerald during the day and ruby in the evening. Originally the dense-green stone was mistaken for an emerald; however it was harder than an emerald, and in the candle light it lit up with a blood-red fire hue. 

Known for its duality, the colors in Alexandrite have been compared with the duality of human blood, both venous and arterial. It's known to clear and strengthen the blood vessels, heal all matters of the central nervous system and tissue regeneration.

Metaphysics physicians who have studied the stone, say 
it brings about explicit change and happiness for its carrier.
It shockingly will change color if there is a change in the wearers health, and 
it has shown to increase chances of winning in competitions. It has shown to aid in physical ailments, or prolonged illness, restore internal and physical energy, while merging your physical and mental bodies.  Alexandrite is also reputed to aid creativity and inspire the imagination. Opens Heart, Solar Plexus, and especially Crown Centers. 

It accentuates the feeling of love and sensuality in your heart and body. It boosts up awakening of both the inner and the outer self, replenishing you with the momentum to shoot through the changing of your world and imbibing the qualities of creativity, grandeur and awareness in the compass of instance. As it possesses regenerative endowments.

The gem can ameliorate you in rebirth or death times- when you need to commute debilitated things into new ones. It empowers your inner strength. It espouses happiness and congenial surprises in your life and blossoms your life with opulence and prosperity.

Related Element: Water

Chakra #7 Sahasrara      Color: Violet Desires: aspiration to get into an essence of things.Task: to find knowledge and wisdom. This Chakra, located in the parietal area (read more about the parietal lobe- the visuals brain I like to call it- and see diagram above for where it is located ) of a head, operates the most powerful vibrations of the body. In translation from Sanskrit "Sahasrara" means "thousand” and is represented by flower of a lotus with thousand petals. This chakra supports balance between an external appearance of the person and his internal spiritual content.

December 23, 2013

Solo runner's, or are we? Cross Country girl's quest for freedom takes flight

Running is the practice of flying.
Gait, both feet are off the ground, simultaneously during a runners flight, suspended in air for moments. That requires magic, very scientific term. Kinesiology would say, a characteristic feature of a running body from the viewpoint of spring-mass mechanics is that changes in kinetic and potential energy within a stride occur simultaneously, with energy storage accomplished by springy tendons and passive muscle elasticity (Wikipedia.) This without creating injury is a biomechanical process. You must learn to fly.
As a kid, part of my upbringing was in a house my dad and his brother's built with their bare hands (can you imagine that nowadays) gave me the geography to become a cross country runner. Trails that went forever seemingly, veering into mountains, giant rocks, hills, valleys, rivers and giant trees that had vines dangling from them (my sisters and brother, and I actually swung on these vines as kids.) The house rested in the middle of a natural oasis 1/2 mile from the road and who can count the miles to civilization. If you went far enough you'd find waterfalls that were connected to the Delaware River. I'd get lost out there for hours running, never getting bored returning home drenched in sweat and sap, mud and moss, water and wildlife. I never felt more alive than in those moments, which were supposed to be of solitude, but so rich with communication and interaction-sights, smells, sounds. The senses were taken to their birth place. The searching could cease. 912 Cedar Ridge Rd. has since been turned into a thriving farm land.

Running through the city streets was the other part of my formative years, to find the gates to the forest, is the service and it brings surrender.
The people are fueling you as you run by, you can feel all of them, since you are merely wind, or mist, or spirit passing by they are open to you.  I am recycling it right back to them, all that I extract from the earth's crust with my tippy toes, answering their calls and questions, quenching their thirst. I imagine light pouring out of me as I run by whooshing whatever it is they need right into their deepest selves, hoping to awaken them, rescue them, serve them.

It starts even before my eyes open. I feel a tingling in my feet, a sensation in my hands a cry from my core that soars from my toes to the tip of my head. The oxygen is reaching to fill me, but still beckons for more space. I'm arching, pulling, flexing, stretching, breathing, twisting, contorting, balancing, dancing, and meditating within moments of being awake-warming my body and preparing my focus. I envision where the winding ways of my windy soul will take me today, when I allow it to have its way like a child roaming through a toy store. I'm already atuned, already listening to the whispers all around me, inside me chanting me forward guiding me to the place where I will find more powers to take me through this day. I open my eyes and follow the lit path.

Zola Budd
I imagine my bare feet extracting the hot lava out of the core of the earth, from its surface, as I interact with the multitude of ecosystems, mud, grass, rocks, sand, clay, gravel, wood, and the track too. Each one requires a different devotion, a new delicate balancing act. I'm mystified by the grounds powers, and my weakness. I rub my hands together where there seems to be an entirely new source of electricity to fuel through my entire body. Engaged with the winds, seducing them to dance with me, as I surrender to nature's forces.

Another runner whooshes by, embracing the code, we allow each other to be drenched by the muddy puddle we both land in simultaneously, as we subtly reach for each other's gust of wind to enter our bodies, at all costs, like a spirit might. A wave with our hands, and a bow send white, orange, yellow lights flashing like lightening bolts propelling each of us faster, stronger, longer, harder. Solo runners feed each other with a glance. I give everything, open wide every time we pass by one another, and without fail the openness is returned. We are rallying each other silently, mystically.

Solo runners connect to the universal team, the collective, they are running together with that which can be seen, if you are awake. Stopping to stretch with the length of the tree, digging my feet deep into the mud and grass gripping onto the tree feeling its roots beneath me, run through my veins, empowering me to once again take flight, fly to a place where everything is just the way it should be. Free, light, without thought, pushing through anything the mind wants to introduce that may stifle my instincts, stifle my senses, stifle my ability to live in the here and now. I take my destiny into my hands. My hands, which I rub together to refuel  my body with strength, hands which I wave back casually at a fellow runner, each of us receiving and passing our powers, like a torch, or the wings of a doves to make flight.

The cool down leaves opportunity for helping that older lady with her groceries, imprinting a smile on the face of a lost soul, lifting a man who has fallen on the street, embracing a child who has lost their mother, delivering for a woman who could not do so herself. The heights reached from the flight of the run, endures and carries you continuously higher.

Coming up next on running, Heroic runner's and their statements

Olympics History Below: read about gold medalists making history for civil rights

Sprinters in the Olympic games take a stand, 

Tommie Smith (center) and John Carlos raise fists for Black Power in 1968. (Source: AP)

Read more: Memorable Olympic Moments: Tommie Smith and John Carlos, Summer 1968 |

December 16, 2013

Slow rapture (a clip from the novel - fiction & romance)

December 2013
“Open up” he whispered gently into her ear, with a breath so warm it trickled down her leg.

The wave of heat slid down her neck, around her breast through her nipple, which she pressed into his soft, wet mouth- one smooth lick, then sharing her bountiful breast with her, their tongues met on her nipple- causing a frenzy.  Devouring, tongues greedily consuming.
Air gust through her lungs, breathing life into every muscle, ligament, joint-  arching her back and lifting- she heard him talking to her, "Just like that. Good girl. Give it to me, Morgan." 
There was an urgency that was begging to be heard.
Her juices were drenching them.
He put his arm around her waste, lifted her, moving her to the floor, without pause or hesitation, slowly.
She could feel him, lightly, barely. Touching the outside of her greedy pussy, full of vibration. "Is that what you want?" He whispered firmly. "Tell me what you want." 

" and give it to me...I want you, all of you. Don't tease me. Stop it." she could barely speak through her moaning. "You stop it." He said playfully as he started to take what he wanted from her, ignoring her requests.

"What do you want from me?" she begged. "Only to make you feel good" he clutched on to her harder, closer, lovingly. 

She wrapped her legs around him, fighting to get to him, as he held her down, she could feel his cock rubbing against her as she barely reached his mouth with her hungry lips.

He teased her and only let her get a little taste before he swiftly went between her legs and fearlessly took her throbbing into his mouth, entirely, ending with a soft kiss that nearly brought her to tears. 

His soft lips, sucking, rubbing, and licking her- wanting every drop coming out of her- he was paying such close attention to her every move, her every silent request. He rubbed his tongue on her clit and smoothly slipped it inside her sending her out of her body-
She squeezed his head between her knees fucking his face until she could barely feel anything, but everything at the same time.

"Yes, Liam, do that just the way I like it, uh huh, don't stop, don't stop!" she moaned his name as she arched her back and rotated her hips, to get more- she slipped from underneath him and took over holding his arms over his head and riding on top of him, slowly while rubbing her breasts against his chest, sliding down until she found what her mouth was crying out for, she gripped onto his pretty penis and put it all the way in her mouth, which was watering for the taste of him, massaging his tip with her hungry tongue, without thought, just moans unable to put it far enough down her throat to satisfy, he pushed himself deep down her throat.

His moans were like music, that took her back to her innocence. She craved to hear them. She would do anything to get to them.

She put his silky dick into her mouth, as it watered for his flesh, until he could take it no longer, she felt a slight twitch and knew he was getting close to exploding in her mouth. He pulled away and searched for her warm, wet and welcoming place.

“I can feel you everywhere- I want more- give me more" she moaned.
'I wanted to be soaked in his sweat, every oil on him I wanted on me, nothing was too much now. Pour it on me.

He knew how to bring her every ounce of what she was looking for, just the idea of it caressed her all the way up her spine so slow and relentless- then rough and resistant- warm and tender then demanding and insistent.

He was inside her veins, in every cell and hair follicle, every beat of her heart resonated with him at that moment. She knew, he knew her body well.
He got her to open herself almost entirely to him- she didn't realize how much until he took his rock hard self into her one inch at a time. Looking at her, making sure she was right there, satisfied completely, and taking it in at that very moment. Waiting for her. Feeling her. Instructing her. She felt something crazy, crazy good, but crazy!
It was as though he was holding her heart in his hands. Literally, she felt this.

Since this tulip, is the knock my pot over onto the ground, fuck me up the ass kind of flower, there is no way to say this while staying in a seductive tone.

Literally, she felt him inside of her heart touching it, holding it with his actual fingers pumping blood through it, pulses conjoined for a moment. Some kind of spiritual, maddening miracle mixed with melting mouth watering molestation. It was almost mortifying, but much too punani pleasing to resist.
He encouraged her, “that's right, that's it- you've got it.” He healed her that day.
The muscles clutched around his Hood, ready to release him- he told her to stay open making her want to cum all over him even more- but without running from him, or the pleasure, but pushing it into him.

He contained himself so well, and let it take him over all at the same time. So unafraid to be himself made him even more seductive, "Am I just fucking you, or am I really in you?" "Tell me." He said while deep in the moment.
"What?" She heard him. But even more she felt him, to the point of the feeling having it's own sound.

 She heard what she was feeling, coming out of his mouth, it muffled the actual words and she wasn't sure if this was real. He was in her.
The both of them now just music in the air, light blurred by feeling and the mist of their sweat and breath and orgasms.

Their mouths joined together with such magical force - calling out like singing, smothering, touching and kissing everywhere. Licking and rubbing, sucking on each other to fill any gaps.
There was nothing between them as they climbed atop each other like primal beings with instinct driving them.

His sound, when he opened himself, was the most lovely sound she'd ever heard. From his gut, from his forever child, from his heart and innocence, from the bottom to the top this man could rally the world with that song. He wasn't holding anything back. It's so hard to describe, but brings feelings of rolling down a hill at the age of 10 and being covered with fluffy flowers, but all grown up and being tickled in your clit,  all at the same time.
She could feel his cum thrust into her like a wave of joy rushing through her. The feeling lasted for the entire night, and into the next day. She could call on that feeling anytime she needed to and it would fill her again, instantly.
Morgan flew out the back door quietly, before Liam had time to notice she had gone. She could hear his taming, un-alarmed voice, "you'll come back to me, you always come back." His faith in her felt like home, as she recalled him saying, "you feel all healed."

***This was inspired as a tribute to our sexual health and beauty, as well as for the women fighting to regain their sexuality following trauma such as mastectomy or sexual abuse; struggling with the almighty orgasm.

A few worthy responses to the story
Female sex therapist and author, Dr. Deb says,
"Very good!  I think it leads the reader to a peak which is just what many readers want in this kind of work-  
I think that women will relate as well as educate men- which is also an important piece in writing like this- just like 50 shades had a lot of education in it about what many women want and how men may want to think about approaching -"
Athlete and Muse for the story,
"Oh my my my...wonderful writing you should write a book you're a great writer"
Male Reader,
"It shows how much it means to you and allows the reader into the depths of your soul. Thank you."


December 15, 2013

Klimt and Primal Instinct (clips from the novel)

Gustav Klimt Sea Serpents V
Gustav Klimt made a mark on creation. Klimt saw a "viscous void," during a time, which had him condemned for it, although Freud and Jung saw it too. All three of them are adored in this century for their liberating vision, but were abhored in their own.

In 1907 Klimt spoke of an “ideal community of those who create and those who enjoy,” and expressed regrets that “public life was predominantly preoccupied with economic and political matters.” Have we come very far from this 100 years later?

I revel, marvel in the beauty of woman and her intricate, marvelous design. Klimt took solace in this immaculate power, which radiates from woman.

The subtle, soft, curves carved like the waves of the sea with strength and insistence, fight and ferociousness, wonder and vastness. She creates, shines, battles consistent forms of darkness hovering over head trying to pounce, while she protects.

Klimt saw the close knit kinship between women, their humble, and yet tigress nature, their demure, yet lioness demeanor and how they bond together to form a unity unbreakable by the outside world.
Sexual creatures of the sea, sun and sand, salting the earth with their tears of joy and compassion, feeling and metamorphosing the earth's pain into pleasure from the divine. She delivers and carries, transforms and transmutes.

Gustav Klimt Sea Serpents I

 jurisprudence, medicine, philosophy: Klimt

Klimt was commissioned to paint the ceiling of the Vienna University's Great Hall, the pieces were called, Philosophy, Medicine and Jurisprudence. He did not withhold his bold nature in presenting these three pieces.

Klimt's Philosophy, this work seems to emulate the arrogance of academia, simplifying the terms of life and death- "On the left a group of figures, the beginning of life, fruition, decay. On the right, the globe as mystery. Emerging below, a figure of light: knowledge."

Made in 1900 and destroyed in 1945. Klimt's Medicine,
Klimt conveyed an ambiguous unity of life and death, with nothing to celebrate the role of medicine or the science of healing.
At the bottom of the painting Hygieia stood with the Aesculapian snake around her arm and the cup of Lethe in her hand, turning her back to mankind. Wikipedia.

Klimt's Jurisprudence, Klimt does not seem to believe the law has mastered cruelty and violence, and shows it here with a return to primal instinct as the  master of justice.

Truth, Justice and Law are represented in the three females (furies) surrounding the man being condemned. 
This piece has always been seen as "psycho-sexual," and definitely delves into the other side of a woman's nature, which Klimt with his deep devotional love for her, rarely depicted in his works. 
He shone her beauty through and through, with no potential for wickedness. 

I think Klimt could relate to the old man being condemned by that which he loved. (SKG)

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