anitalorraine.com

Musician and Activist devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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Fundraiser Starts Today!! Help me to make my first album!! 🎶💜💓💜🙏💜💓💜🎶

www.gofundme.com/anitalorrainemusic

Poem about the process and #SurrenderingtotheSacred continued from the last episode to catch yall up:

The Mystery Still

They used to call that old white lightning “moonshine” in these hills

How many lips of other those words or family ties it breaks and kills

Strawberry apple pie or dark cherry kinds

But I found a new flavor my fingers and heart longed to find

Paid heed to the unanswered questions I spent too much time tryin to answer

Somewhere down the line I met a spirit and she bade me to release her

She gave me the keys to an old wooden shed

Her hair was long and dark, she was only 3 and her granddad’s hair was red

She came from the deep, A dark despair trail of loneliness

She rows up from the ashes and held me through the hunger and distress

In that shed, she showed me the silver, the copper and the gold

She showed me the jewels inside me, once I thought I couldn’t hold

She said the way it worked was this,

“you fill it up here and it makes a little hiss,

What you put in it is who you’ve been

What comes out that mystery still is your destiny, my friend”

The mystery still, a belly full of unknown

Stands in that shed just waiting to be blown

Open side, all the ingredients are there

You

“You just gotta believe” she said, “in yourself, if you dare”

I’ll show you the way cause you couldn’t even see

No matter how hard you tried, that spirit… What will be will be

“and that’s the magic” she said to me

Of sacred mysteries that come from pain and grief

Do you know her name, down this path you must go

Of surrender and sorrow of joy you can know

This still don’t make moonshine, but the Moonglows here still

Upon deep waters, wet and a tear stained two dollar bill

The birds are all calling and cannot be boxed in

Your dreams are free and aloof just like the wind

Ask for them to come and to you they will find

Their way through the core, the ground, from the mines

The caves you dug a long time ago

We’re dug by the same shovel that now makes you grow

This girl she smiled, as I sat down in awe

Bowed my head in silence, in reverence; I had no flaws

Suddenly I was sacred when I drink from that still

I’d learn the hard way, then she screamed, her voice hard and shrill

“your mantle, your fireside, your magic, I live inside.

You must off and stoke the fire and feed me” she cried

You never are done, don’t think you’ve made it

Each day, remember to keep the right flame lit

Don’t let it go out, else you’ll have to start over

And axe to this still, and your spirit sinks lower

Out of reach, out of time, out of luck, out of rhymes

Just put back on your skates and roll outside all the lines

You’re still is your own,

Every seed you have soon

Weights and yearns for your return

Build another fire to burn

If you still don’t know what this still is about

Think of a soul, longing to get out

As in distill, intoxicate your beautiful self

With the mystery of what is, take it down off the shelf

You open a portal and let spirit in

You release your control over who it is you’ve been

That little girl who showed me the way

She’s a firestarter, pyromaniac it play

She can blow up some shit because she knows no better

But refined… She is genius and shakes her tail feather

The horizon cannot hold her, this child of God and Moore

She put in the time and said Grace for her store

This mystery still she’s found out how to use

Is a vertical prayer, open to gnosis and truth

I’m learning to use it, growing day by day

Excepting my feelings, no judgment, and a loving and kind away

As she hand me the keys and I return to make my shine

She lies back, relaxes and daydreams all the time

I long to filter out what I’ve been told versus what I know

My innermost yearnings, the balance, the flow

The gut, the tingles, the pangs and the blood is still warm

I’ll tell me the truth, like a pouring down storm

It’s like talking to God, From a sacred, me – shaped telephone booth

The mystery still takes me, shapes me, and provides me with the truth


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April 16th Poem for the Day

A Penny

A tiny penny is a wish

I am a tiny penny

a dream piece of the stars

a flicker of time

a fleck of dust

a sparkle in a young child’s eyes

a bruise you felt on your knees

a handprint in the sand

a mark on your car

a grain of salt in your teeth

a rush of delight on the first day of Spring

a feeling of regret as the year has passed you by

a line from the panties you just had on

a tiny penny in a fountain

my hand


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Wow and a New Day

As of right now, I feel elated and energized.  A snowstorm is settling into our little mountain, accumulating inches on the banisters and unburned wood stacked outside.   I just got off the phone with my dear best friend up here and she is so glad to hear of the news I am going to share with you!  I live a privileged life, there is no doubt.  I cannot say how much I appreciate everything that surrounds me and is presented into my world.  This morning, I realized a new start can come from unexpected play, grand events without planning.

Things are tasting better, feeling better and looking up.  My health is important and I will soon have some of the implements to see a more healthy me emerge from within the cave I harness.  Soon there will be juicing and more solid exercise.  More love to share.

Today I will do yoga and practice Spanish.  Tomorrow I will do yoga and practice guitar.  Guitar lesson this Thursday, I’ve been practicing a pentatonic scale in E.  Super bluesey.  The day after that I will do yoga and the Brazilian Butt Lift!! 😉 Cause I need it… I started writing a new song and I talked about that last time.  I’m going to work on that too.  Feeling good.


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I wanted to call but…

Today I made plans to wake up at 7am, just like yesterday and go to the gym to administer my exercise healing medicine.  That stuff works wonders, so I’m told.  Yesterday I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked – but yet I was encouraged by others last night (during our weekly, ladies’ ukulele music-making night)  that I’d accomplished a ton and I was being too hard on myself.  I’m not that easily convincable.  I did create an inspirational Collage for Phil Cheney (my sweetheart).  That was something.  See collage on left.

"Inspirational Positive Rememories"

“Inspirational Positive Rememories”

However, today ~ as beautiful as it is outside with the blowing cold rain and grey skies ~ I decided to sleep past my alarm and on into the morning.  Waking around 9, I made a tiny pot of coffee with cream and agave sauce (it’s delicious), brought in the clothes that were on the line getting rained on, and came back upstairs to my peaceful little room to start working for the day.  Couldn’t get my executive director on the phone, so now I am putting my thoughts into a journal for only a handful of people to explore.

Today will be different because today is not yesterday and it is still very far from tomorrow.  I was wondering this morning what would happen if it was raining all the time and the sun decided never to come out again.  It would be a miserable thing, I tell you, just miserable. I love rainy days, rain, and clouds, and wetness, yet as a human, my inner workings basque in the rays of the sun and they cheer me to the point of singing.  Just the other day I woke up and started singing because the yummy sunlight was pouring in thorough the morning windows and it warmed my soul (if you believe in that sort of thing).

Onward into today.. Coffee, a candle, and a new arrangement of folk art on my walls (check out the next photo.  That’s by Grace Kelly Laster, an amazing travelling artist who graces my walls with beautiful images of feminine,  avian, and celestial images).

Owl Lady Painting in my Room

Owl Lady Painting in my Room

I received this painting from Phil on my birthday unexpectedly, such a lovely surprise.  I’ve filled my world with art and creations from the spirit because it seems to enliven my own.  I enjoy creating art and being an artist.  Singing and playing instruments, playing music with other people, painting on a surface, and appreciating the art that is the nature all around me.  Art by the Universe.  Art of energy.  Art of the seasons.  Poetry of the wind and songs of the ocean.  The theater of the dancing fire within.