Michael Sortomme's Blog, page 2
August 27, 2012
YOUR time to Listen!
Michael Sortomme BLOG,
www.michaelsortomme.com
© Aug 27, 2012
Southern California experienced thirty successive quakes in a row this morning, following the 7.3 quake that hit El Salvador. As usual, I heard the news about El Salvador as it was happening: LIVE, as I did Sendai, Fukushima and many other disasters in the last decade or so; such is the world of late night cable TV. A few of those terrible happenings I saw on ABC’s World News Now that runs from 2 to 4:30 AM PST; this was the case during the early morning’s dark hours. When I awoke a few hours later, I was NOT surprised to find that Southern California had been shaking, news reported the largest quake (still unnumbered) in three decades. AND PEOPLE WONDER WHY I DON’T DO CALIFORNIA? I was born during the largest quake Southern California had experienced thus far, in 1956. At the same moment of my birth, to the day, fifteen years later, S-Cali was hit by the next largest quake, taking out freeways and the Vet Hospital close to Norwalk. Today, S-Cali was hit again and its months from my birthday; coincidence or the times? The times are calling: “No need to wait, we’re here, we’re here; these are the times you have been expecting, like it or not!”
Meanwhile, natural disasters, in the form of storms, tsunamis, quakes, fires and flooding are happening on every continent on the planet, NOW, not yesterday, tomorrow, but NOW. I have written about these times for decades, usually to small audiences, skeptical and rude, but persistence keeps my course. For far over half a century, I have witnessed the destruction humans have doled out to one another, to the world as a whole and to our beautiful planet. The Earth is always the dispensable pawn and She is understandably weary from the aggravation and destruction. Shake, Mother, shake; shake us off your back! Can you hear the song, the repetitive call to be heard and to HEAR? One again, the Gospel of Mary of Magdala shines: “For those who have eyes, let them see. For those who have ears, let them hear!” Yes, you are right, I quote the same quote, disaster after disaster, in hopes that humans will wake up to the realities of our changing world and actually help, help the Self, help the Whole. The message is repetitive, it needs to be. If the audience doesn’t hear the first time, the show plays again, it’s an everyday matinee, not just on Saturdays anymore. This is this generation’s call to LISTEN!
People are out of work, many rioting worldwide, famines threaten half the planet’s people and we in the Western World, collectively, have removed ourselves, by and large, from the tumult, psychologically and socially. “If it doesn’t affect me, it’s not real” consciousness, happy to find a quiet sterile place, only large enough for romantic comedies. The majority remain intentionally blind and isolated, missing the need to connect, to hold each other, to understand the larger picture, despite our prejudices and fears, in real time, NOT on social media that is far from the battles of life. It’s time to leave the bulging war chests, leave them in charity’s hands, booty to feed, shelter and heal those hurt on the front lines.
We represent many different faiths between us, the majority being agnostic or atheist, in the small circle I call friend, and in the larger circle I call family. At this special time, 2012, a cross-roads year on many levels, for this nation and the world, I ask all to put religion and alliances, or lack thereof, aside. Take a deep breath and as you exhale, think of US, all of us, as one breathing organism. Feel it, know it, embrace the organic feel of life and love you enough to love others, love big enough to extend a hand, even if it has been slapped away in the past! Grab life and make it real, share, grow and evolve, NOW, not tomorrow. TIME is calling; it’s your time to listen!
www.michaelsortomme.com
© Aug 27, 2012
Southern California experienced thirty successive quakes in a row this morning, following the 7.3 quake that hit El Salvador. As usual, I heard the news about El Salvador as it was happening: LIVE, as I did Sendai, Fukushima and many other disasters in the last decade or so; such is the world of late night cable TV. A few of those terrible happenings I saw on ABC’s World News Now that runs from 2 to 4:30 AM PST; this was the case during the early morning’s dark hours. When I awoke a few hours later, I was NOT surprised to find that Southern California had been shaking, news reported the largest quake (still unnumbered) in three decades. AND PEOPLE WONDER WHY I DON’T DO CALIFORNIA? I was born during the largest quake Southern California had experienced thus far, in 1956. At the same moment of my birth, to the day, fifteen years later, S-Cali was hit by the next largest quake, taking out freeways and the Vet Hospital close to Norwalk. Today, S-Cali was hit again and its months from my birthday; coincidence or the times? The times are calling: “No need to wait, we’re here, we’re here; these are the times you have been expecting, like it or not!”
Meanwhile, natural disasters, in the form of storms, tsunamis, quakes, fires and flooding are happening on every continent on the planet, NOW, not yesterday, tomorrow, but NOW. I have written about these times for decades, usually to small audiences, skeptical and rude, but persistence keeps my course. For far over half a century, I have witnessed the destruction humans have doled out to one another, to the world as a whole and to our beautiful planet. The Earth is always the dispensable pawn and She is understandably weary from the aggravation and destruction. Shake, Mother, shake; shake us off your back! Can you hear the song, the repetitive call to be heard and to HEAR? One again, the Gospel of Mary of Magdala shines: “For those who have eyes, let them see. For those who have ears, let them hear!” Yes, you are right, I quote the same quote, disaster after disaster, in hopes that humans will wake up to the realities of our changing world and actually help, help the Self, help the Whole. The message is repetitive, it needs to be. If the audience doesn’t hear the first time, the show plays again, it’s an everyday matinee, not just on Saturdays anymore. This is this generation’s call to LISTEN!
People are out of work, many rioting worldwide, famines threaten half the planet’s people and we in the Western World, collectively, have removed ourselves, by and large, from the tumult, psychologically and socially. “If it doesn’t affect me, it’s not real” consciousness, happy to find a quiet sterile place, only large enough for romantic comedies. The majority remain intentionally blind and isolated, missing the need to connect, to hold each other, to understand the larger picture, despite our prejudices and fears, in real time, NOT on social media that is far from the battles of life. It’s time to leave the bulging war chests, leave them in charity’s hands, booty to feed, shelter and heal those hurt on the front lines.
We represent many different faiths between us, the majority being agnostic or atheist, in the small circle I call friend, and in the larger circle I call family. At this special time, 2012, a cross-roads year on many levels, for this nation and the world, I ask all to put religion and alliances, or lack thereof, aside. Take a deep breath and as you exhale, think of US, all of us, as one breathing organism. Feel it, know it, embrace the organic feel of life and love you enough to love others, love big enough to extend a hand, even if it has been slapped away in the past! Grab life and make it real, share, grow and evolve, NOW, not tomorrow. TIME is calling; it’s your time to listen!
August 24, 2012
Intelligence
To waste intelligence is to close the door on opportunity…
Michael Sortomme © 2012
Michael Sortomme © 2012
June 23, 2012
Amazing Grace
BLOG: Amazing Grace
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
It had been overtime, an understatement, the updating of the miniature flags that constitute the nations of our family’s origins. Flags like Moldova, Latvia and Mongolia were missing, as were the states and commonwealths, birth places for our Ancestors, Colonial American and international. Few families are blessed enough to be truly international; I have embraced the distinction and have rejected the notion of “mutt”. The total had been 144 flags—there had to be more! For the five last months, Mark and I have been consumed redoing our entire house to fit our aging special needs—no time for shopping or funds for extras. Rooms had to be created from closets, walls torn down, a bathroom made from 1912 plumbing. Had I mentioned packing, cleaning, organizing and keeping our local St Vincent’s Second Hand Shop well stocked with a life-time’s worth of treasures?
Let us not forget to factor the demands of dealing with the constant influx of genetic matches from six family kits at two companies, a passion that knows no bounds. It had taken me almost a year of daily Genetic Genealogy doses, researching and writing, to realize that other testers were not interested in familial relationships, but only desired information to complete their own genetic profiles of what and who made them, them. Now, at the two and a half year point, DNA still occupies a great deal of my consciousness. Present genetic matches, flags representing my genetic Ancestors, DNA rules, invades and infests all my dreams and notions of ME.
I cleared a couple of hours for internet searching, a luxury I rarely allowed myself. It felt good to put everything else on the back-burner and indulge in something that brought me pleasure; “Flags! Georgia” was my fix, my company. It was a Family Friday gift to ME! Click, click and the screen opened wide. They showcased their new flag as welcome to my expectant mouse, an African American flag of black, red and green. Had to have it, yes I did! Click, click, click. Okay, it had been added to my shopping cart, miniature black stand included. I had been tirelessly trying to connect with my African and African-American genetic cousins for over two years, had even tried to enlist six hundred potential cousins to take part in last year’s Louis Gates project that will support the findings of his new series, promised soon, about African-American health issues. Few had accepted the invitations sent; few would share info about themselves or their families. I was out there: see me, I’m talking to you, we have a common grandparent, please notice me! My attempts had failed; the age-old genealogical Slavery Wall had been hit. It was and is true that communication with a white woman, as in this tri-racial woman who looks slightly albino, admits to many wrong doings of our culture at large, the culture that came together that eventually made me, a descendant of slave, slave runner and slave owner. True, it’s difficult for others to admit to the realities of history and the piles of hurt that is caused by its unfolding. I persisted and persist still.
Buck-up, embrace who you are, I whispered to myself. You know that you have an African grandmother in the last five generations and “her” people were from Burundi, according to 23&me. Click, click, click, the Burundi flag went into my shopping cart. A solitary deep breathe in and I sat taller as a broad smile took its sweet time traveling across my face. Okay, I admitted that it took no real courage to buy two flags that proclaimed yet another part of my ancestry. The back-patting did not last long. But, I just felt happy, at my core, another step had been taken in the discovery of ME.
I try not to turn on my computer on Saturday morning, the Jewish signature of my week, but today was award day. I had been promised contact after the awards ceremony for Book of the Year. I was not made to wait, eleven o’clock came and an email appeared, right along with a lovely letter from my cousin, Spud Barrett. I knew I should have opened the link that Spud had sent, knew it was glowing and positive—could feel it in the Ethers. But, no, that’s not how it came down, my curiosity dictated my actions. Click, click, click and the winners are: my name did not appear, not as a grand prize winner, yes, still as a finalist, but no medal to adorn my showcase had been awarded. Sad, disappointed, then another letter came across my desk. You are not feeling great, put is aside, don’t open it, the dialogue knew it was in a losing battle. Click, click, click and I read a genetic cousin’s words: is it you or your sister-in-law who is up for an award? Who are you? I keep seeing the name Michael, but I see Joan’s picture. SHIT! The feelings of rejection and failure flooded my dry eye sockets, realizing this person shared room on my wall on Facebook as a friend, is a member of my fan page and a member of our ancestry group. I had told myself not to open that email, now, I knew why. That innocent note, from an unassuming relation had blown my mind. Why don’t people read my words, listen to me on any level? Disconsolate once more… Click, click, okay, make time for Spud’s link, is all that made sense.
Within minutes, I was transformed! The African grandmother of my mysterious dreams was now staring back at me in the form of a lecture by a charismatic handsome African-American preacher, not at all what I had expected. I stayed patient and found solace in his lesson and was inspired by his face, his look, his message. I stayed open and was put back together again.
I believe that we are God. God-Self makes the rules, the decisions and guides one to the core of one’s work and identity. I don’t look outside for my solace; it’s hard sometimes, and lonely true, but, as said earlier, I am persistent. I look within, I read, I search, I touch, I look in all dark corners to find what makes me tick. This is not a popular position, not in a world that delineates people by color and belief structure. I understand the difficulties surrounding any zealot form any religion or any belief structure, knowing that horrific deeds have been done in the name of zealot rage, regardless of what God one speaks too. This is my reality, I don’t force it on others—it just is. When I find genuine love in another person’s face, regardless of where they are from or who they pray to, I embrace that person with hope and sincerity. I do hope you offer this person’s message in the same open fashion that I did, because he sent me directly to the feet of my African grandmother and I will always feel grateful for this amazing grace! I will look at the two African flags purchased last night with great honor and fortitude of Spirit, a blessing on all levels!
Click here: Amazing Grace History/"Amazing Grace" By Wintley Phipps - YouTube
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
It had been overtime, an understatement, the updating of the miniature flags that constitute the nations of our family’s origins. Flags like Moldova, Latvia and Mongolia were missing, as were the states and commonwealths, birth places for our Ancestors, Colonial American and international. Few families are blessed enough to be truly international; I have embraced the distinction and have rejected the notion of “mutt”. The total had been 144 flags—there had to be more! For the five last months, Mark and I have been consumed redoing our entire house to fit our aging special needs—no time for shopping or funds for extras. Rooms had to be created from closets, walls torn down, a bathroom made from 1912 plumbing. Had I mentioned packing, cleaning, organizing and keeping our local St Vincent’s Second Hand Shop well stocked with a life-time’s worth of treasures?
Let us not forget to factor the demands of dealing with the constant influx of genetic matches from six family kits at two companies, a passion that knows no bounds. It had taken me almost a year of daily Genetic Genealogy doses, researching and writing, to realize that other testers were not interested in familial relationships, but only desired information to complete their own genetic profiles of what and who made them, them. Now, at the two and a half year point, DNA still occupies a great deal of my consciousness. Present genetic matches, flags representing my genetic Ancestors, DNA rules, invades and infests all my dreams and notions of ME.
I cleared a couple of hours for internet searching, a luxury I rarely allowed myself. It felt good to put everything else on the back-burner and indulge in something that brought me pleasure; “Flags! Georgia” was my fix, my company. It was a Family Friday gift to ME! Click, click and the screen opened wide. They showcased their new flag as welcome to my expectant mouse, an African American flag of black, red and green. Had to have it, yes I did! Click, click, click. Okay, it had been added to my shopping cart, miniature black stand included. I had been tirelessly trying to connect with my African and African-American genetic cousins for over two years, had even tried to enlist six hundred potential cousins to take part in last year’s Louis Gates project that will support the findings of his new series, promised soon, about African-American health issues. Few had accepted the invitations sent; few would share info about themselves or their families. I was out there: see me, I’m talking to you, we have a common grandparent, please notice me! My attempts had failed; the age-old genealogical Slavery Wall had been hit. It was and is true that communication with a white woman, as in this tri-racial woman who looks slightly albino, admits to many wrong doings of our culture at large, the culture that came together that eventually made me, a descendant of slave, slave runner and slave owner. True, it’s difficult for others to admit to the realities of history and the piles of hurt that is caused by its unfolding. I persisted and persist still.
Buck-up, embrace who you are, I whispered to myself. You know that you have an African grandmother in the last five generations and “her” people were from Burundi, according to 23&me. Click, click, click, the Burundi flag went into my shopping cart. A solitary deep breathe in and I sat taller as a broad smile took its sweet time traveling across my face. Okay, I admitted that it took no real courage to buy two flags that proclaimed yet another part of my ancestry. The back-patting did not last long. But, I just felt happy, at my core, another step had been taken in the discovery of ME.
I try not to turn on my computer on Saturday morning, the Jewish signature of my week, but today was award day. I had been promised contact after the awards ceremony for Book of the Year. I was not made to wait, eleven o’clock came and an email appeared, right along with a lovely letter from my cousin, Spud Barrett. I knew I should have opened the link that Spud had sent, knew it was glowing and positive—could feel it in the Ethers. But, no, that’s not how it came down, my curiosity dictated my actions. Click, click, click and the winners are: my name did not appear, not as a grand prize winner, yes, still as a finalist, but no medal to adorn my showcase had been awarded. Sad, disappointed, then another letter came across my desk. You are not feeling great, put is aside, don’t open it, the dialogue knew it was in a losing battle. Click, click, click and I read a genetic cousin’s words: is it you or your sister-in-law who is up for an award? Who are you? I keep seeing the name Michael, but I see Joan’s picture. SHIT! The feelings of rejection and failure flooded my dry eye sockets, realizing this person shared room on my wall on Facebook as a friend, is a member of my fan page and a member of our ancestry group. I had told myself not to open that email, now, I knew why. That innocent note, from an unassuming relation had blown my mind. Why don’t people read my words, listen to me on any level? Disconsolate once more… Click, click, okay, make time for Spud’s link, is all that made sense.
Within minutes, I was transformed! The African grandmother of my mysterious dreams was now staring back at me in the form of a lecture by a charismatic handsome African-American preacher, not at all what I had expected. I stayed patient and found solace in his lesson and was inspired by his face, his look, his message. I stayed open and was put back together again.
I believe that we are God. God-Self makes the rules, the decisions and guides one to the core of one’s work and identity. I don’t look outside for my solace; it’s hard sometimes, and lonely true, but, as said earlier, I am persistent. I look within, I read, I search, I touch, I look in all dark corners to find what makes me tick. This is not a popular position, not in a world that delineates people by color and belief structure. I understand the difficulties surrounding any zealot form any religion or any belief structure, knowing that horrific deeds have been done in the name of zealot rage, regardless of what God one speaks too. This is my reality, I don’t force it on others—it just is. When I find genuine love in another person’s face, regardless of where they are from or who they pray to, I embrace that person with hope and sincerity. I do hope you offer this person’s message in the same open fashion that I did, because he sent me directly to the feet of my African grandmother and I will always feel grateful for this amazing grace! I will look at the two African flags purchased last night with great honor and fortitude of Spirit, a blessing on all levels!
Click here: Amazing Grace History/"Amazing Grace" By Wintley Phipps - YouTube
April 3, 2012
Circle is rising...
www.michaelsortomme.com
Book of the Year Awards: Finalists in the Body, Mind & Spirit Category!
My computer, a fickle beast, tanked on me yesterday, eating six months of broad spectrum work: books, reviews, genealogy, genetics, thousands of letters to international recipients--all gone. The fact that this kind of wholesale computer gluttony has happened far too often over the years for me to be jovial and light about it, is an understatement. Gone are outlines for several books, so complicated that this feeble brain cannot recreate them.
I asked the Universe for a small favor last night, a sign of hope that I am as worthy of success, as much as the next award winning author. That sounds grandiose to some, why should I deserve a thing, many would ask and have. Certainly my books have not sold as well as my perceived competitors, if that is a guide to literary wellness. I am a one person operation with little outside support. That’s the breaks, kid. I hear that all the time and take it on the chin like a big girl.
I awoke to the news that Etna erupted yesterday. The world is an absolute mess: war, weather, insanity. But, I knew there was something good waiting for me today. I took the chance of turning on my beast of a machine, knowing that it could blow at any second and destroy what was left. I still wanted to know if there was a sign for me, other than world devastation and pain. I wanted something positive, despite the risk.
And, what I found made me smile, inspired this blog, even on this inferior intuit site that will not allow editing or punctuation. The title gave away my punch line, clearly. One of ten top finalists for Book of the Year was a boost that deserves a hallowed, CHEERS!
Tomorrow will be a better day; maybe today will be too…
Meet the other finalists:
Margaret Ann Lembo
Daniel Taylor
Andrew Cohen
J.H. Soeder
Galen Stoller
Elizabeth Clare Prophet
Dr. Gary and Robbie Holz
Dianne Ebertt Beeaff
Jason Haxton
B. Simhananda
Ike Allen and Connie Shaw
Book of the Year Awards: Finalists in the Body, Mind & Spirit Category!
My computer, a fickle beast, tanked on me yesterday, eating six months of broad spectrum work: books, reviews, genealogy, genetics, thousands of letters to international recipients--all gone. The fact that this kind of wholesale computer gluttony has happened far too often over the years for me to be jovial and light about it, is an understatement. Gone are outlines for several books, so complicated that this feeble brain cannot recreate them.
I asked the Universe for a small favor last night, a sign of hope that I am as worthy of success, as much as the next award winning author. That sounds grandiose to some, why should I deserve a thing, many would ask and have. Certainly my books have not sold as well as my perceived competitors, if that is a guide to literary wellness. I am a one person operation with little outside support. That’s the breaks, kid. I hear that all the time and take it on the chin like a big girl.
I awoke to the news that Etna erupted yesterday. The world is an absolute mess: war, weather, insanity. But, I knew there was something good waiting for me today. I took the chance of turning on my beast of a machine, knowing that it could blow at any second and destroy what was left. I still wanted to know if there was a sign for me, other than world devastation and pain. I wanted something positive, despite the risk.
And, what I found made me smile, inspired this blog, even on this inferior intuit site that will not allow editing or punctuation. The title gave away my punch line, clearly. One of ten top finalists for Book of the Year was a boost that deserves a hallowed, CHEERS!
Tomorrow will be a better day; maybe today will be too…
Meet the other finalists:
Margaret Ann Lembo
Daniel Taylor
Andrew Cohen
J.H. Soeder
Galen Stoller
Elizabeth Clare Prophet
Dr. Gary and Robbie Holz
Dianne Ebertt Beeaff
Jason Haxton
B. Simhananda
Ike Allen and Connie Shaw
April 2, 2012
CIRCLE is a Finalist for Book of the Year!
Book of the Year Awards
BOTYA 2011 Finalists in Body, Mind & Spirit Category
• Chakra Awakening by Margaret Ann Lembo (Llewellyn Worldwide)
• Creating a Spiritual Legacy by Daniel Taylor (Brazos Press/Baker Publishing Group)
• Evolutionary Enlightenment by Andrew Cohen (Select Books)
• Haddie's in Our Closet! by J.H. Soeder (CreateSpace)
• My Life after Life by Galen Stoller (Dream Treader Press)
• Odyssey of Your Soul by Elizabeth Clare Prophet (Summit University Press)
• Secrets of Aboriginal Healing by Dr. Gary and Robbie Holz (Holz Wellness)
• Spirit Stones by Dianne Ebertt Beeaff (Five Star Publishing)
• The Dibbuk Box by Jason Haxton (Truman State University Press)
• The Great Golden Garland of Gampopa's Sublime Considerations On the Supreme Path (Volume 2) by B. Simhananda (Orange Palm Publications)
• The Sensitive's Circle by Michael Sortomme (Singing Lake Press)
• The Tao of Walt Whitman by Ike Allen and Connie Shaw (Sentient Publications)
BOTYA 2011 Finalists in Body, Mind & Spirit Category
• Chakra Awakening by Margaret Ann Lembo (Llewellyn Worldwide)
• Creating a Spiritual Legacy by Daniel Taylor (Brazos Press/Baker Publishing Group)
• Evolutionary Enlightenment by Andrew Cohen (Select Books)
• Haddie's in Our Closet! by J.H. Soeder (CreateSpace)
• My Life after Life by Galen Stoller (Dream Treader Press)
• Odyssey of Your Soul by Elizabeth Clare Prophet (Summit University Press)
• Secrets of Aboriginal Healing by Dr. Gary and Robbie Holz (Holz Wellness)
• Spirit Stones by Dianne Ebertt Beeaff (Five Star Publishing)
• The Dibbuk Box by Jason Haxton (Truman State University Press)
• The Great Golden Garland of Gampopa's Sublime Considerations On the Supreme Path (Volume 2) by B. Simhananda (Orange Palm Publications)
• The Sensitive's Circle by Michael Sortomme (Singing Lake Press)
• The Tao of Walt Whitman by Ike Allen and Connie Shaw (Sentient Publications)
March 15, 2012
Core Respect Was Slow in Coming
Core Respect Was Slow in Coming
www.michaelsortomme.com
3-15-2012
Respect for my Spiritual Elders came at sixteen. Mouthed obedience, bowing my share, I served those older than me from the beginning. Rituals of behavior where learned, not generated by what was right, they were followed because they were rules. Order was given prominence, but core respect was slow in coming.
A disagreement with a woman of prominence, one of bearing and knowledge, waged. Turning my back on her I whispered, BITCH! My ears rang, filled with growing laughter from the room below. A millisecond passed. Then: BE CAREFUL WHO YOU CALL BITCH, YOUNG LADY. The directive was so loud it filled my levitated body that was suddenly falling up the stairs. Inspecting new bloodied shins, the surface truth was revealed: a person with sound mind and body does not intentionally make a Witch mad.
Once clean up was had and bandages secured, I descended the stairs, looking into the face of the woman I had disrespected just minutes before. A contagious smile had spread across her face. In that moment, I made a pact to never call my Mother a bitch again. All seemed right with the world, finally.
Someone intentionally made me mad in a public way recently. I knew she was baiting me, trying to make me the fool—the obvious plan. When sweeping insults under rugs did not work, but, before justifiable ire grew to a boiling point, the stair incident played out in my mind’s eye. The sting of rejection and regret surfaced. A few expletives followed a couple of short notes of disapproval to people in the know. I cooled to find a smile where only a snarl had been a flash before, my inner abused child had been transformed.
People have labeled me many things in the last six decades. Few prefer the ones I have chosen and earned: artist, author, teacher. Shaman, a term one cannot grant oneself without using the word Practitioner first, and Witch, meaning Wise One in Old English, are the two most popular titles given me. In light of today’s events, sporting a wide smile I ask: why in the world would someone who uses both titles to describe me, an adult who knows about consequence and rational thought, intentionally cause me harm, leaving anger in the wake? Do you think the individual devoid of pyrotechnics of the magickal variety? Spirit, will the testing ever be ended, no, of course not; at least she was entertaining…
Blessed be the peacemaker.
www.michaelsortomme.com
3-15-2012
Respect for my Spiritual Elders came at sixteen. Mouthed obedience, bowing my share, I served those older than me from the beginning. Rituals of behavior where learned, not generated by what was right, they were followed because they were rules. Order was given prominence, but core respect was slow in coming.
A disagreement with a woman of prominence, one of bearing and knowledge, waged. Turning my back on her I whispered, BITCH! My ears rang, filled with growing laughter from the room below. A millisecond passed. Then: BE CAREFUL WHO YOU CALL BITCH, YOUNG LADY. The directive was so loud it filled my levitated body that was suddenly falling up the stairs. Inspecting new bloodied shins, the surface truth was revealed: a person with sound mind and body does not intentionally make a Witch mad.
Once clean up was had and bandages secured, I descended the stairs, looking into the face of the woman I had disrespected just minutes before. A contagious smile had spread across her face. In that moment, I made a pact to never call my Mother a bitch again. All seemed right with the world, finally.
Someone intentionally made me mad in a public way recently. I knew she was baiting me, trying to make me the fool—the obvious plan. When sweeping insults under rugs did not work, but, before justifiable ire grew to a boiling point, the stair incident played out in my mind’s eye. The sting of rejection and regret surfaced. A few expletives followed a couple of short notes of disapproval to people in the know. I cooled to find a smile where only a snarl had been a flash before, my inner abused child had been transformed.
People have labeled me many things in the last six decades. Few prefer the ones I have chosen and earned: artist, author, teacher. Shaman, a term one cannot grant oneself without using the word Practitioner first, and Witch, meaning Wise One in Old English, are the two most popular titles given me. In light of today’s events, sporting a wide smile I ask: why in the world would someone who uses both titles to describe me, an adult who knows about consequence and rational thought, intentionally cause me harm, leaving anger in the wake? Do you think the individual devoid of pyrotechnics of the magickal variety? Spirit, will the testing ever be ended, no, of course not; at least she was entertaining…
Blessed be the peacemaker.
March 13, 2012
Our Brand New Video--check it out, ya'll!
Our brand new video:
“The Emancipation of Giles Corey by Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o1294...
Our growing U-Tube Library:
“Defining the Term Reincarnationist, The Sensitive’s Circle”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
“Spiritual Survival: 2012-2020, Parts 1 through 5, Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUYYF2... Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7mj5M... Part Two
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8u7n4... Part Three
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzR0zw... Part Four
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9r9D... Part Five
“The Emancipation of Giles Corey by Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o1294...
Our growing U-Tube Library:
“Defining the Term Reincarnationist, The Sensitive’s Circle”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
“Spiritual Survival: 2012-2020, Parts 1 through 5, Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUYYF2... Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7mj5M... Part Two
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8u7n4... Part Three
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzR0zw... Part Four
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9r9D... Part Five
Our Brand New Video--check it out, ya'll!
Our brand new video:
“The Emancipation of Giles Corey by Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o1294...
Our growing U-Tube Library:
“Defining the Term Reincarnationist, The Sensitive’s Circle”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
“Spiritual Survival: 2012-2020, Parts 1 through 5, Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUYYF2... Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7mj5M... Part Two
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8u7n4... Part Three
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzR0zw... Part Four
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9r9D... Part Five
“The Emancipation of Giles Corey by Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o1294...
Our growing U-Tube Library:
“Defining the Term Reincarnationist, The Sensitive’s Circle”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
“Spiritual Survival: 2012-2020, Parts 1 through 5, Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUYYF2... Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7mj5M... Part Two
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8u7n4... Part Three
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzR0zw... Part Four
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9r9D... Part Five
Our Brand New Video--check it out, ya'll!
Our brand new video:
“The Emancipation of Giles Corey by Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o1294...
Our growing U-Tube Library:
“Defining the Term Reincarnationist, The Sensitive’s Circle”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
“Spiritual Survival: 2012-2020, Parts 1 through 5, Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUYYF2... Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7mj5M... Part Two
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8u7n4... Part Three
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzR0zw... Part Four
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9r9D... Part Five
“The Emancipation of Giles Corey by Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0o1294...
Our growing U-Tube Library:
“Defining the Term Reincarnationist, The Sensitive’s Circle”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
“Spiritual Survival: 2012-2020, Parts 1 through 5, Michael Sortomme”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUYYF2... Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7mj5M... Part Two
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8u7n4... Part Three
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzR0zw... Part Four
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ec9r9D... Part Five
February 26, 2012
New Video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyY8NO...
WE ARE NOW LIVE!
Leave thumbs up and comments on U-Tube please.
Enjoy the work week, y'all, and be well!
WE ARE NOW LIVE!
Leave thumbs up and comments on U-Tube please.
Enjoy the work week, y'all, and be well!
