…greatness. What if that Divinity were subjected to you, your awareness, your care and feeding, your expression? What if you knew it dwelt at your deepest layer of Subjectivity, longing to be revealed, and you that demi-god(ess)’ only portal into Life? You are. Don’t shut the door. In fact, grab your psychic machete, author’s pen, or Bardic sword of light, and lacerate a pathway to usher in your uniquely vibrant frequency!

How come only curmudgeonly old men are considered endearing, discerning, and honorable? My own Shamanic journeying on this matter has shown me that at midlife women are invited beyond the nurturing Moon-Earth embrace into the vastness of the Milky Way, where we have light, darkness, stars, moons and meteorites at our creative, reflective, and destructive disposal.

Acheron is the Greek Underworld river, timelessly flowing beneath Middle World consciousness, circulating through our bloodstreams in varying states from polluted to pristine. Freud was fond of this line from Virgil’s Aeneid: “If I cannot bend the gods, then I shall stir up Acheron.

Some Indigenous Elders add lotus seed cakes to their diet in their final years, meditating on a branch continually blossoming, so that in their next reincarnation they’ll have to deal with less opaque karmic mud. Thus we hope to gain a longer measure of time to bring our share of Heaven to bear on Earth.