On Doing and Being
Out of a balance of water and fire emerges a chariot bearing wind and earth twofold, messages of harmony and introspection, right path, right choices, new passion and love, returning solidity from soul work and depth of searching lead to a new stance now undergone. Here, now, a woman of intensity—who is love in their own mind, in their manifestation of ego and self?—and I become more, and it is she who brings these tidings, among others, via a reading of spirit-filled cards. Lisé Oriam….
… to Scott Oriam. My Sir. The world’s Sir Oriam and mine as that for now as well, until the world demands of him more and in that, he become the world’s. And who else could I even imagine to bring these tidings, via a reading or otherwise, but to him. A mythologizer of poeisis. An articulation of just one of the media in which he expresses his brilliance is only to diminish the wholeness in which I find him expressing the Muses and their Mother, Memory. And to a man of such intensity that, I quiver, and my knees become weak, and my sex gets hot and begins to drip with just the thought of his touch, his whisper, and I long for his command, because it brings me ever more into the power, into the intensity of who I am. Scott Oriam….
She told me on the porch that the feminine was manifesting, and very strong within me. This notion reflects in the horizontal beam of the ‘Celtic Tree of Life—or Cross’ with a Charioteer on the far left, followed by the Sister of Water (crossed or covered by the Ten of Earth), with the Sister of Fire next, and culminating in the Mother or Fire. The Ten of Fire crowns the vertical axis, with the above-mentioned Sister of Water draped by the Ten of Earth and both above the Eight of Water. Wow, the feminine definitely illuminates the strong connection with compassion and service that flows freely from within, guided by the intuition in nearly all things. Yes, it is no small wonder that we two have manifested one the other, for our individual soul work and processes, albeit very different, arrive at similar places. An endearing idea that interconnectedness rules, that compassion and love allow this vision to further, and that furthermore, each of us is accountable for our every action and thought. It is not a simple prescription to morality that drives, rather, it is a definite ability to be receptive to what intuition tells us is right. This great woman of mystery humbles all others in her loving presence and we shake and pale in her illumination. For, she is: Lisé Oriam!
Stop it! I am nothing. No thing. This is not meant to express anything other than the truth, for the Lisé of which my Lover, my companion, my confidante, my Muse speaks, is none other than a humble girl who, before him, only dreamed of, nay remembered, a love as great as ours. And so, it is in this love, it is to this love, it is as a result of this love that I owe him my life as I experience it in this moment. Connected to and in communion with Selene, Artemis, Isis, Hathor, the lover and mate of the Soul Journeyer. For he is in this moment of forever, eternally everything that I ever dreamed of, or is that, remembered, in a man, a Lover, a mate, my mate. Please excuse me for my confusion… An ancient memory of Atlantean priest and priestess, and that of seaman coming and going without regard for the heart of a humble peasant girl who accepts her fate to love such a man. And mayhap, now that I’ve done my own soul work, mayhap, this time, he’ll stay… My Scott Oriam!
She who dares call herself no thing, who dealt a Three of Wind, Mother of Fire, Six of Earth, and Five of Water in the final vertical of the spread to arrive at a final outcome that spoke of previous processes endured, yet led to understanding deeper those struggles—she dares call herself no thing? Nay, I, for one, will have none of it, for it is unbecoming one as wise and full of spirit, love, intellect, emotion and psyche, so well-developed, to call herself no thing! Rather, to the point of the poets of love: she is every thing! Everything to me and everything to those who conduct business with her. For they realize that what they do would be so less successful without her that now they beckon to her from afar on conference calls to ensure the deals go through. Who else commands such respect—perhaps many, but none who do so operate with such high degrees of integrity and loving compassion that others can see and feel in the midst of their negotiations—that their very opinion is courted on mundane life activities by these very same business people? If I could grasp her essence in my clenched hand, it would be a hand as gigantor as that of Zeus. If I could say all there is to say about her, positively, it would fill every library that ever was, and this is not an exaggeration, as I witness myself, I could fill many libraries, already and have only known her for less than a year. Should I take the entire vision she has and make a movie out of it, it would run until the end of time. Should I tread the breadth of the earth in search of the end of her shadow, I would need to head into space in order to better seek its end. Ah, such are the boasting of those whose egos overtake their Selves, yet this comes from one who humbly calls himself her lover. So, take this with whatever grain thee shall, Lady Oriam is the penultimate!
And what else can I say? What else can I add to this our continuing and never ending precious and eternal dialogue? That there is nothing that I can say, nothing that I can write, that you do not add to, that you do not articulate more profoundly, more broadly, more deeply, more beautifully than me, which I then see as a feeble attempt on my part, but which does not diminish me, but only completes me by what you say, by what you offer to add to me. I was a shadow of an artist, ignorant of what it even meant to be a mythologizer of poeisis. And you have taught me so much and teach me every single moment of the night and day. And still, this does nothing to communicate what you are and what you do for me. And, I’m not going to try and explain, except to say that my love and respect for this man and for every aspect of what he reveals to me each and every day and into the night is beyond what can be spoken of; and so, in speaking of myself as no thing, I mean no diminishment of me, for in so doing, I only diminish the significance of what I feel for him, which is so full, so complete, so complex, so multitudinous that, I am drawn back into sexual metaphor, not because this is the mode of communication, but because it speaks volumes and I am rendered in this moment unable to speak of anything in any way but in volumes when it comes to the greatest love that I have known in my life: you make me want to devour the sources of your energy: your recently shaved head, your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your nether regions; and yet, I am equally moved to re-plenish you, to nourish you, to feed you for ever more; to give to you my juices, which are an expression of my divine love. For I love you more than I have ever loved another in my life. And that’s just the way it is, so say what you will, conclude this dialogue however you will, knowing that it will not alter how I feel, much less how I feel about you.
Ah….ah…ah..ah. He breathes, not in anticipation of her breathing later, which shall come hurried, of that we know, but, and in spite of it, instead, this ah directs itself to the love. The love she feels for me, for the he, here, is the mirror of love I feel for her. And, in the midst of reading about colors and states of dying in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, what has come to mind is that color has no system in their minds. That indeed color is in absentia from the spirit world, other than to say that this deity is that color, and this one is that color, for they hold no specific gradation or even fixation to direction. The lesson herein, is one already learned and surmised, which is that Nature, in her very nature, does not conform to any certain color in any direction. Except that we can say that yellow in the sunrise occurs—providing there are minimal clouds, and that pinks occur in a sunset, depending again on clouds. Now, a sunset experienced and participated in by and with this very same wondrous incarnation named herein as Lisé Oriam, was indicative of these very ideas and notions of color not being steadfastly adherent to any certain direction; for we saw an evolution of colors within that sunset that seemed like several days within one night. This sunset went from white to silver and gray to blue and silver to blue and gray to blue and indigo and white to blue and bluer and bluish and rose to indigo and violet to lavender and amethyst to blue and gray and white and peach to blue and white and burgundy and orange and purple and pink and red to oh, why go on….it was incredible. No sunset conceived by any director would include these changes, for they would ‘theem incontheivable’! Lisé and I encountered, saw, were seen and encountered, basically participated in this sunset, with the lens of both of us and that of the digital age looking on, and in one sense recording it for posterity’s sake…it was beautiful and we loved it, soaking in the very essence of nature herself—and this was the wonder of the universe as some sing…………….. I dream of a universe, I see it, it is not a dream as in ‘I have a dream,’ rather, it is something I see—is this the same thing? One sounds more hopeful and wishful, whereas the other is definite, without being so. Is this to denigrate those who call their ideas and notions dreams? No! It is meant to demonstrate a vital difference between the vision that some have and the hopes that others have that drive them to try to make social change, while those who see it move toward the vision—there is no trying in the latter, only doing. Is it important though for those who do not share the seeing to call it a dream so that they can then hope? I think that paradigm is no longer relevant in this society. Now, we need Do and Be, so that we are full of Doing and Being, and in this way we show others how to Do and Be, and thereby make more aliveness out of living. Doing and Being is what Lisé and Scott Oriam recommend and practice.
… to Scott Oriam. My Sir. The world’s Sir Oriam and mine as that for now as well, until the world demands of him more and in that, he become the world’s. And who else could I even imagine to bring these tidings, via a reading or otherwise, but to him. A mythologizer of poeisis. An articulation of just one of the media in which he expresses his brilliance is only to diminish the wholeness in which I find him expressing the Muses and their Mother, Memory. And to a man of such intensity that, I quiver, and my knees become weak, and my sex gets hot and begins to drip with just the thought of his touch, his whisper, and I long for his command, because it brings me ever more into the power, into the intensity of who I am. Scott Oriam….
She told me on the porch that the feminine was manifesting, and very strong within me. This notion reflects in the horizontal beam of the ‘Celtic Tree of Life—or Cross’ with a Charioteer on the far left, followed by the Sister of Water (crossed or covered by the Ten of Earth), with the Sister of Fire next, and culminating in the Mother or Fire. The Ten of Fire crowns the vertical axis, with the above-mentioned Sister of Water draped by the Ten of Earth and both above the Eight of Water. Wow, the feminine definitely illuminates the strong connection with compassion and service that flows freely from within, guided by the intuition in nearly all things. Yes, it is no small wonder that we two have manifested one the other, for our individual soul work and processes, albeit very different, arrive at similar places. An endearing idea that interconnectedness rules, that compassion and love allow this vision to further, and that furthermore, each of us is accountable for our every action and thought. It is not a simple prescription to morality that drives, rather, it is a definite ability to be receptive to what intuition tells us is right. This great woman of mystery humbles all others in her loving presence and we shake and pale in her illumination. For, she is: Lisé Oriam!
Stop it! I am nothing. No thing. This is not meant to express anything other than the truth, for the Lisé of which my Lover, my companion, my confidante, my Muse speaks, is none other than a humble girl who, before him, only dreamed of, nay remembered, a love as great as ours. And so, it is in this love, it is to this love, it is as a result of this love that I owe him my life as I experience it in this moment. Connected to and in communion with Selene, Artemis, Isis, Hathor, the lover and mate of the Soul Journeyer. For he is in this moment of forever, eternally everything that I ever dreamed of, or is that, remembered, in a man, a Lover, a mate, my mate. Please excuse me for my confusion… An ancient memory of Atlantean priest and priestess, and that of seaman coming and going without regard for the heart of a humble peasant girl who accepts her fate to love such a man. And mayhap, now that I’ve done my own soul work, mayhap, this time, he’ll stay… My Scott Oriam!
She who dares call herself no thing, who dealt a Three of Wind, Mother of Fire, Six of Earth, and Five of Water in the final vertical of the spread to arrive at a final outcome that spoke of previous processes endured, yet led to understanding deeper those struggles—she dares call herself no thing? Nay, I, for one, will have none of it, for it is unbecoming one as wise and full of spirit, love, intellect, emotion and psyche, so well-developed, to call herself no thing! Rather, to the point of the poets of love: she is every thing! Everything to me and everything to those who conduct business with her. For they realize that what they do would be so less successful without her that now they beckon to her from afar on conference calls to ensure the deals go through. Who else commands such respect—perhaps many, but none who do so operate with such high degrees of integrity and loving compassion that others can see and feel in the midst of their negotiations—that their very opinion is courted on mundane life activities by these very same business people? If I could grasp her essence in my clenched hand, it would be a hand as gigantor as that of Zeus. If I could say all there is to say about her, positively, it would fill every library that ever was, and this is not an exaggeration, as I witness myself, I could fill many libraries, already and have only known her for less than a year. Should I take the entire vision she has and make a movie out of it, it would run until the end of time. Should I tread the breadth of the earth in search of the end of her shadow, I would need to head into space in order to better seek its end. Ah, such are the boasting of those whose egos overtake their Selves, yet this comes from one who humbly calls himself her lover. So, take this with whatever grain thee shall, Lady Oriam is the penultimate!
And what else can I say? What else can I add to this our continuing and never ending precious and eternal dialogue? That there is nothing that I can say, nothing that I can write, that you do not add to, that you do not articulate more profoundly, more broadly, more deeply, more beautifully than me, which I then see as a feeble attempt on my part, but which does not diminish me, but only completes me by what you say, by what you offer to add to me. I was a shadow of an artist, ignorant of what it even meant to be a mythologizer of poeisis. And you have taught me so much and teach me every single moment of the night and day. And still, this does nothing to communicate what you are and what you do for me. And, I’m not going to try and explain, except to say that my love and respect for this man and for every aspect of what he reveals to me each and every day and into the night is beyond what can be spoken of; and so, in speaking of myself as no thing, I mean no diminishment of me, for in so doing, I only diminish the significance of what I feel for him, which is so full, so complete, so complex, so multitudinous that, I am drawn back into sexual metaphor, not because this is the mode of communication, but because it speaks volumes and I am rendered in this moment unable to speak of anything in any way but in volumes when it comes to the greatest love that I have known in my life: you make me want to devour the sources of your energy: your recently shaved head, your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your nether regions; and yet, I am equally moved to re-plenish you, to nourish you, to feed you for ever more; to give to you my juices, which are an expression of my divine love. For I love you more than I have ever loved another in my life. And that’s just the way it is, so say what you will, conclude this dialogue however you will, knowing that it will not alter how I feel, much less how I feel about you.
Ah….ah…ah..ah. He breathes, not in anticipation of her breathing later, which shall come hurried, of that we know, but, and in spite of it, instead, this ah directs itself to the love. The love she feels for me, for the he, here, is the mirror of love I feel for her. And, in the midst of reading about colors and states of dying in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, what has come to mind is that color has no system in their minds. That indeed color is in absentia from the spirit world, other than to say that this deity is that color, and this one is that color, for they hold no specific gradation or even fixation to direction. The lesson herein, is one already learned and surmised, which is that Nature, in her very nature, does not conform to any certain color in any direction. Except that we can say that yellow in the sunrise occurs—providing there are minimal clouds, and that pinks occur in a sunset, depending again on clouds. Now, a sunset experienced and participated in by and with this very same wondrous incarnation named herein as Lisé Oriam, was indicative of these very ideas and notions of color not being steadfastly adherent to any certain direction; for we saw an evolution of colors within that sunset that seemed like several days within one night. This sunset went from white to silver and gray to blue and silver to blue and gray to blue and indigo and white to blue and bluer and bluish and rose to indigo and violet to lavender and amethyst to blue and gray and white and peach to blue and white and burgundy and orange and purple and pink and red to oh, why go on….it was incredible. No sunset conceived by any director would include these changes, for they would ‘theem incontheivable’! Lisé and I encountered, saw, were seen and encountered, basically participated in this sunset, with the lens of both of us and that of the digital age looking on, and in one sense recording it for posterity’s sake…it was beautiful and we loved it, soaking in the very essence of nature herself—and this was the wonder of the universe as some sing…………….. I dream of a universe, I see it, it is not a dream as in ‘I have a dream,’ rather, it is something I see—is this the same thing? One sounds more hopeful and wishful, whereas the other is definite, without being so. Is this to denigrate those who call their ideas and notions dreams? No! It is meant to demonstrate a vital difference between the vision that some have and the hopes that others have that drive them to try to make social change, while those who see it move toward the vision—there is no trying in the latter, only doing. Is it important though for those who do not share the seeing to call it a dream so that they can then hope? I think that paradigm is no longer relevant in this society. Now, we need Do and Be, so that we are full of Doing and Being, and in this way we show others how to Do and Be, and thereby make more aliveness out of living. Doing and Being is what Lisé and Scott Oriam recommend and practice.
posted by Scott Michael Potter @ 7:30 AM
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