A woman free

Charlene, also spelled Charleen and Charlyne, is a feminine given name, a feminine form of Charles coined in the United States in the nineteenth century; from French Charles, from Old French Charles & Carles, from the Latin Carolus, from and also reinfluenced by Old High German Karl, from the Proto-Germanic *karlaz (lit. “Free Man”/”Free Spirit”/Free Thinker); compare the Old English word churl and the Old German Kerl.
Meaning
Free Woman, Free Spirit, Free Thinker

Self Portrait~ Charleen Johnston 5-28-24

THE SONG OF A WOMAN FREE 

I am a woman free. My song 
Flows from my soul with pure and joyful strength. 
It shall be heard through all the noise of things — 
A song of joy where songs of joy were not. 
My sister singers, singing in the past, 
Sang songs of melody but not of joy — 
For woman's name was Sorrow, and the slave 
Is never joyful tho he smiles. 
I am a woman free. Too long 
I was held captive in the dust. Too long 
My soul was surfeited with toil or ease 
And rotted as the plaything of a slave. 
I am a woman free at last 
After the crumbling centuries of time. 
Free to achieve and understand ; 
Free to become and live. 

I am a woman free. With face 
Turned toward the sun, I am advancing 
Toward love that is not lust, 
Toward work that is not pain. 
Toward home which is the world, 
Toward motherhood which is not forced, 
And toward the man who also must be free. 

With face turned toward the sun, 
Strong and radiant-limbed, 
I advance, singing, 
And my song is as free 
As the soul from which it flows. 
I advance toward that which is, but was not; 
Toward that which is not, but is yet to be. 

I, the free woman, advance singing, 
And with face turned toward the sun. 
Let Ignorance and Tyranny 
Tremble at the sound of my feet. 
I am a woman free. 

Singing the song of joy, 
Strong and radiant-limbed, 
I advance toward the work which waits for me, 
The joyful work out in my home the world ; 
And toward the man who is my mate. 
Oh I am strong and magnetic — 
I have not wasted myself in sensuality; 
And equally strong and magnetic 
Is the man who is my mate. 

For the glory of Motherhood 
I have conserved my strength. 
And for the glory of Fatherhood 
He has conserved his strength. 
I have passed by the lovers 
Who passionately called to me in the name of love, 
But whose lips were only hot with lust. 
I have remained true to my own soul 
And to the souls which are enfolded within me • 
And no man shall mingle his body with mine 
Who is not pure. 

I am the free woman, 
No longer a slave to man, 
Or anything in all the universe — 
Not even to myself. 

I am the free woman. 
I hold and seek that which is mine : 
Strength is mine and purity; 
World work and cosmic love; 

The glory and the joy of Motherhood. 
I am not strong and clean for myself alone, 
But for all people ; 
My work and my love are for all people ; 
And I shall not be the mother of one child, 
But of all children — 
For I myself am the daughter 
Of all women and all men. 
Oh I am free ! My song 
Flows from my soul with pure and joyful strength ; 
It shall be heard thru all the noise of things — 
A song of joy where songs of joy were not. 

Oh I am free ! I thrill 
With radiant life and gladness. 
I advance toward all that waits for me. 
I chant the song of Freedom as I go. 
My face is toward the sun, 
My soul is toward the light, 
My feet arc turned toward all that waits for me. 
I advance! I advance! 
Let Ignorance and Tyranny 
Tremble at the sound of my song! 

~Ruth Le Prade

Actors acting perpetually

…. Whenever the masses are suddenly fed a big dish of something, I am immediately suspicious. I intentionally don’t take in ‘trending’ things so that I don’t download the mass frequency into my being. sometimes there’s a dash of salt n pepper n Truth mixed in with a whole lotta subtle agenda and I like to watch how the waves permeate the collective aura and go into Dreamtime and source the codes myself. I rarely hear anything I havnt already contemplated anyway. It feels like a new line drawn in the sand is being cast into the frequent.See baiting the latent stasis::::we shall see.

Actors acting perpetually
Cointelpro.grammatically
Sealed as new deals
Reveal
Grazing cattle in electric fields
Made to crave what seems to feel
Like Home
As alteredCarbon hides
In bones
And tones
Too hard to fly
As
EL.Mag dines on Minds
In Domes.
Nines sidewinded
And
Blindfolded
In Time.

CLJ 5-23-2024

Return of the Mother

“~The Mother is saying to us, “If you want this change, then you have to open the eyes of love.” If you open the eyes of love, you see pain everywhere, your heart breaks. Just let it. Stop running away. Open, accept, and learn how to dance in the blood of that acceptance. Then you’ll dance her dance and know her love, and know the courage and bliss that streams from that dance and that path. Then you can become really living channels of her divine grace.
This embrace of catastrophe is really an embrace , it isn’t based in fear. The Mother isn’t just saying , “Open, suffer, die,” she’s also saying , “I will give you the peace of my love to help you bear this distress. I will take you into my heart that can bear anything, and give you that heart.” Only a heart that breaks again and again can ever be strong enough to bear everything. That’s the sacred paradox of the divine feminine. A heart that defends itself will be shattered to smithereens. A heart that consents to break again and again will be strengthened with each break, strengthened to break again, to break more and more open to empowering divine grace.”

~Andrew Harvey, The return of the Mother
The grapes of my body can only become wine
After the winemaker tramples me.
I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling
So my inmost heart can blaze and dance with joy.
Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing
“I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty”
The trampler stuffs cotton in his ears: “I am not working in ignorance
You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse,
But it is I who am the Master of this Work.
And when through my Passion you reach Perfection,
You will never be done praising my name.”
— Rumi (from ‘The Way of Passion: A Celebration of Rumi’ by Andrew Harvey)
“Although the grapes go on weeping blood…
A large part of the spiritual journey is having the courage, the great crazy courage, to ”go on weeping blood.” There is more blood to weep at every stage, and more sobbing to do at every encounter with deepening reality. There is no place where the tears stop. The tears go on, they stop being sentimental tears and become tears of love, but they go on. The blood-shedding goes on, what stops is self-protection. In another quatrain Rumi says:
Blood Must Flow
For the garden to flower.
And the heart that loves me
Is a wound without shield.
For reality to become alive with gnosis, there have to be many people prepared to make the journey into love. For people to be prepared to take the journey into love, they must be willing to die, to let themselves sob and weep blood, and cry out again and again at different steps of their life, what Rumi cries out , “I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty!” What these deaths feel like, don’t let us pretend otherwise, are, as Rumi says, ‘anguish’ and ‘cruelty’. They are felt as the cruelty of the divine, giving us something we think we can’t bear. It happens again and again on the path of real love.

~Andrew Harvey, The return of the Mother
Rumi tells us about the world as seen through the eyes of adoration:
~”It is a pity to reach the sea and to be satisfied with just a little water. This existence, this life, is the great sea…
There are great pearls in the sea and from The sea myriads of precious things can be produced. This world is just false coin gilded. It is a fleck of foam on the great sea of love.
Man is the astrolabe of God, the astronomical instrument in which the heavens movements are charted and reflected. Just as the copper astrolabe is the mirror of the heavens, so the awakened human being is the astrolabe of the mysteries of God…
The awakened human being is the theater, the place, in which the divine mysteries appear. When God causes a human being to have knowledge of Him, and to know Him, and to be familiar with Him through the astrolabe of his own being, he beholds moment by moment, and flash by flash, the manifestation of God and His Infinite beauty, and that beauty is never absent from his mirror.”~
….:::Let’s enter into what these words are promising to be true about the awakened heart, the awakened soul: the heart that has been matured by the ecstasy of adoration and opened by the ecstasy of adoration sees in every moment, every event, every face, every sentient loving thing, nothing less than the appearance of infinite Beauty.:::
:::~”when the Mother causes a woman to have knowledge of Her and to know Her, and to be familiar with Her through the astrolabe of her own being, she beholds moment by moment, and flash by flash, the manifestation of the Divine”~:::

~Andrew Harvey, the Return of the Mother

How gloriously the We hold tightly

How gloriously the We hold tightly
To desperate dreams
Of victimhood
Clinging to the seams of Right
And Left Wings
Born from Memes 
Painted with Blood
How magnificently the program
Takes hold
The lies and cries and
Ties that Bind
Are blinding in their bitter goodbyes
As the foothold of ones soul
Is Lost to the magic Mold
The cost of freedom
As minds are bought and sold
How shocking to watch the wounds
Peel and pry the tombs
From the loom 
As the Masters spin 
The tunes and Rip the song
From the Mothers womb
Inverting the Music of men
And women who jump too soon
Into the abyss 
Of That & This
Baring bleeding fists of rage
Undisciplined Shifts
Of the gears and the twists
Of the fears that seed 
The Shadows sweet Mirrors...
Shattered Stewards of this New Age
Oh how the We holds so intently
To the identity
Of being the victim 
As the Sick Dictum grips their mind
And erodes the Codes
Born in Time
Into imploding roads of crime
And sideWinds into highs
Of euphoric rhetoric built from blind
Adherence to inferior minds
That Pride themselves on
GroupThink Size of Lines
Drawn in sand
Glass eyes staring blankly
In artificial bands of Light
Splintered thru the cells
In fight or flight
Wherein the We Dwells
So terrified
And paralyzed 
And petrified like stone
Afraid to See the Wounds
Have been born from their own
Image
Hiding itSelf in the Dreams
That damage
The minds and the Mes
Of the Corpus
That creates 
Scenes
Of
Be. 
Sovereign
Selves
Always and AllWays Dwell
In the Deeper See
Beyond the Shell
EmPowered by the Currents
Ease
No need to Buy and Sell
Or trade Souls in Hell
In proclamations of Victimhood...
The We is a Me that Speaks in Blood
The Time is nigh 
The Waters are Tears and Cries
Shall Flood
From the Fountain of Freedom
That Springs from the Heart
Of Mud
The Infinite Art of the Earth
As she Births the Beginning 
Again
A deep sweet Breath
As the New Day Begins.  

 Charleen Johnston
6-7-20 
“Causes….. Know what your jumping into “
“this is your brain on PreScripted Reality Highs”

Where do you fill YOUR Pre.Script.Ions?

The critical degree

since the Architect knows that a small percentage of people won't accept the Matrix, he gives them an alternate universe to live in: "real" life in Zion....and they don't even know that they are really still in a larger matrix. They just keep occupied fighting an enemy instead of waking up..... 

  .... The Critical Degree... The Chasm....the Force of the Spazm thrusts us out into a new Day, a new Game to Play....choose Carefully which Script you want to Read....the codes have been downloaded unbeknownst to you Over Aeons and Aeons and now corrode the Truth of Who You Are..... Don't accept their Paradigms..... Don't Play out the war crimes that are being Triggered in your Mind as you try to Find the Line of Least Resistance.... The Trick of Blissful Existence is to Keep the Tension Taut.... Don't seek comfort nor Sloth.... Dare yourself to Break the Shell of your Wildest Bare Self ...Birth thru Maat and Thoth the Kind and Joyful Embrace of All The Lost Pieces....Stepping off their Preconfigured Grid locked in with the beast ...laced with poison and dreams deceased ....they are dependent on your Imaginative Juices to Burgeon All Yous into a Solid Groove of Threadbare t r u t h
 
 
Charleen Johnston 
11-02-2020

Viriditas

Crossing to Avalon, Jean Shinoda Bolen
William Styron , Darkness Visible
Dante’s Inferno

🌱Viriditas🌱

My bedtime reading a reminder of the lush greening and the moisture of aliveness. Venus in the glory of bountiful natural juiciness of expression in abundant hues of green. Taurean fertility and adoration of the sensual world that saturates and quickens the blood. The Power of the Greening. That which is alive is wet, is moist, and as Time takes it’s toll, demands payment, it is in moisture, removed……Saturn is Dry. It contracts and dries things out. As moisture dries up, Life dries up. Turns to salt? Saturn is salt. Salt is wisdom. The journey from Green Venusion birth into the sensual realm of aliveness and bodily experience. Ole Saturn, through Time pulls the moisture out, condenses, constricts, makes dry and brittle and rigid. The wisdom that comes from embodiment and disembodiment in patterns and cycles of knowing and forgetting, being, and letting …be. Saturn is melancholia. The darkness that overtakes when the moisture of life has gone. The Melencholia of intense depression states, the complete loss of all the juice of living. If you know you know. Saturn is a harsh task master but always wise. If you’re worth your salt, your worth your sea as the womb space of psyches dream pulls you in.

Went to bed with these contemplations. But never slept. So eventually re/lit my candles, and grabbed a book that had been in que. William Styron ‘Darkness Visible’ about his descent into Melencholia and Madness. Saturns initiation. If you know you know. Read the whole thing before falling sleep. The journey of Saturns slow wicking off moisture from the body and mind and heart. The seemingly inexplicable dance with the leaden realm that makes the Viriditas ever so sweeter when the waters return.
Saturn and Venus and their dance.

I went into a laughing fit that lasted probably ten minutes, towards the end of Styrons book. One single paragraph seemed to me so hilarious…..he spoke so articulately sardonic and it was so metaphoric of how little the ‘system’ understands the ramifications of Madness of Melancholia when Saturns slow shrivel has dried up every last bit of wetness from the soul. (See photo of the excerpt).

“Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita
Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,
Ché la diritta via era smarrita”
~Dante

I awoke to the sound of the pouring rain outside, could feel the earths reception of these heavenly waters as a tonic for her thirst. Ah. The greening. And the wet juiciness of life. The green hue that surrounds my house a reminder of the love for living that Saturns dark lessons make New and make pertinent.
Knowing the hot dry temperatures coming up in the next week, I felt myself relax into this rainy downpour that quenches the parched earth.

🌱Viriditas🌱

Dreamtime Python…

Dreamtime last night with the giant Python:)

Today is Fasting Day 6.

There is a calm undercurrent of anticipation
A night without armour as stars penetration
Peels back the layers of initiation
From times before in spaces torn
From the watery depths of the mother matrix
Cellular memories of transfiguration
Lifetimes of fire and water and sensation
Beckon the reckoning of powerful patience
As sacred thunder and shards of wonder
Ride the lightening bolt to Pollination
Seeding Dreams in the Jesters Playground
Pleading with the demons who keep me bound
Feeding the fetus of futures merry-go-round
Diamond body womb from carbons dark tomb
As eclipse slips thru truth to birth sacred sound.
And here
I Am
Found.

4-3-2024

Mourning DEW

The Possum Elder speaks
Of smoldering embers on
Mountain peaks
Clearing the way for
The next stage in the game
Smart city tech bubble
Suffocation from natures rubble
As genetic engineers weather
Storms spliced from bloody tears
As programmed gears creak
Through the new dawn
Modified lives and times and
Mass mind control crimes
In smoky mirrors that crack
And spawn
The revolution
Built from fear and steering
Fabricated crisis deoxyribo-rising prices
Of fictions Fueling the predictions
Of a new earth
Covered in smart dust
Sparking apocalyptic flames
Combust inside the fading sane
Birth
Of the mother
And child
Breathless in labor
As operating tables cut deep
Into the heart and soul and keep
The divine child
Stuck within
A technorevolutionary trash bin
Cashing in
As the synaptic rapture consumes
In mountain disaster
Counting the DeathOfStars
Supernova
AlgorithmicIntelligence Takeover
In stupid SmartCars
Made to break your scarred hearts
And take this game to a new layer of
Control
Loss of sovereignty loss of soul
Downloaded programs take their toll
As altered carbon smolders
And hardened arteries to turn trees
Into smart cities
To usher in
The wage of war
Within
Psychic space
And the gulags built from
Fragmented minds
And iron bars as mars missionaries
Rise to protect
The architect of the dream
That no longer bleeds
And the bird flies overhead
Signaling sigils and misdeeds
As the mourning DEW
Triggers a scripted set
That’s wet with Untruth
And sinister nous
As heartbeats hang from the noose.

Charleen Johnston 3-22-2024