Fuzzy Red Boots

20Oct 2025 by admin

How To Leave Your Teacher

In my life, I have had many teachers, people who took me from the point where we met to guide me to critical turning points; where everything I knew about myself had to be forged in fire that either it dissolved, evaporated within the intensity of the fire of the cosmic chaos that birthed it, or it integrated its essence into my core, granting the sense of a perfect rebirth of soul and body, tempering a quality of Consciousness within me so profound that all I could do afterwards was move forward with ineffable strength and grace. I find it harder to part with them than to discover them. I recognize the signs, yet I hesitate to close the circle. For, on one level, every teacher-student relationship is a place…

Who Would We Be Without Our Fate?

Fuzzy Red Boots

Every time I realise, through a process of deep immersion into my innermost issues, that yet another one of my issues is not exactly mine, that I carry it as a dowry from some ancestor, or my mother or father, I tend to get angry, feel irritated or hurt. I often spoke of a “curse” that follows me, no matter what I do, how I do it, or where I do it. And this conclusion is always accompanied by a sense of suffocation underlying in a verbal reclamation of my “I can’t take this anymore,” or “I don’t deserve this anymore.” And in most healing sessions I’ve done with others, I have seen time and again this rule proven, as a universal dynamic that seems to apply. Many, perhaps most,…

Orgasmic Permission

Fuzzy Red Boots

This summer I suffered. Not just from the heat. Nor just from the countless mosquitoes that found me extremely attractive. I suffered from a memory, the lack of sex in an old relationship, a relationship that never really got off the ground. And that is one of the hardest human sorrows: to have the movement of love cut off before it even reaches the body. So much escalation of emotions that did not touch, did not cry out, did not mark the bodies. So much desire that never reached the other side. Frozen in between, having made a start but never having completed anything. Remaining hidden, filed away, and for years now asking to be seen. Like a dead person we did not honor, did not send off, did not…

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