The Lady Odin's Lair

Women need to feel good in order to do good. Men need to do good in order to feel good. Hey, let's throw in a couple more over-the-top generalities while I'm in the mood for it.  Women crave to be desired. Men crave to be respected. If these statements begin to make you argumentative, then shoo ! Get outta here!  As a mystical woman who is hungry to know my own feminine power in all its flavours, I have tasted the shrew and the harpy and found them wanting. I played the feminist game of ambition and invasion of the masculine purview and found it hollow even in victory. Now, I dive in at the other end of the spectrum, feeling into the power of feminine surrender, engaging the masculine not in competition but in synergy. But where to find a willing playmate for this romantic adventure of epic scale? I need to bring in another leitmotif at this point ... that of reality, particularly, how we determine and shape our reality.  I've always been metaphysically inclined, sensing...

This is how I do my journaling. It's a unique process I created that I call Magical Alpha Dialogue . It reads as fiction.  Enjoy. Or not. Coffee is poured for us as we sit in armchairs on his enclosed balcony outside his chamber. The view looks out over the Bifrost. This morning it gleams like selenite, the energy visibly pulsing through the portal and walkway. He has glamoured a simple but sumptuous gown for me that matches his soft leather jerkin that he wears over black leather jeans. He still looks at me with hunger but keeps it in check, unlike yesterday. He reaches for my hand and kisses my palm. “Are you ready to set the course for the coming year, my love?” “If we have to, my lord.” “We have to, pet. YOU have to. My Lady Odin’s great adventure awaits.” There is a soft growl behind his smiling, mischievous eyes. I enjoy how he smoothly navigates my various layers including that of petulant child, even though he owns my heart and soul. He pulls me onto his lap, taking and pla...

This is how I do my journaling. It's a unique process I created that I call  Magical Alpha Dialogue . It reads as fiction.  Enjoy. Or not. “My lord?” “Hm?” I see he is concentrating on something. “Never mind. I see you’re busy.” “Only because you are late.”  He holds back the word ‘again’. “I’m sorry about that. I’m happy to leave you to it. I can catch up later.”  I turn to head out. “Stop right there.”  He is growling at me, more from annoyance than anger.  “You will NOT be leaving. Stay. Talk with me.” He rises and steps away from his work area that looks like a blend of alchemist's lab, recording studio, and office library while indicating  to the two armchairs near the windows.  He waits for my hesitant arrival  before sitting in one of them. I feel put on the spot, unsure how to go forward from here. After sitting, I look at my clasped hands which I rest on my lap, and feel his eyes hard upon me. “Magic girl, are you still in ...

This is how I do my journaling. It's a unique process I created that I call  Magical Alpha Dialogue . It reads as fiction.  Enjoy. Or not. I doodle idly on the notebook I’ve brought with me to the coffee nook in the sitting chamber. I’m mindlessly filling the page with angles and curves while frequently staring off into the distance. “A new recreation, pet?”  I come back with a start. “Excuse me?” “You would take up art now?” I smile wryly. “No, my lord. I’m pondering on an exchange I had yesterday.” “Your new dragon friend?” “Yes, my dragon friend.” “A snag?” “Yes. It feels like it. He is not fond of angels, apparently.” “Well, I’m not overly fond of them either.” “But you and Aza …” “We have a history, my love. A bit of a bumpy one.” “But you’ve never discouraged my interest or action down this path.” “Why would I?” “Well … to keep me safe, I guess. This is my dragon friend’s motivation for cautioning me.” “You are neither their enemy, my...

This is how I do my journaling. It's a unique process I created that I call  Magical Alpha Dialogue . It reads as fiction.  Enjoy. Or not. I sit on the sofa, my knees tucked against my chest, my arms wrapped around them, while  I replay an encounter I had the previous day with a trickster colleague. “My lord?” “Yes, my love.”  He sits in an adjacent chair. He is scanning updates from various realms. He lowers his device and looks at me. “Yes, pet?”  He repeats himself as I’ve lost myself in my thoughts. “Why do people fear power?” “Explain.” “I had a written exchange yesterday with one of my twitter followers who I have a good rapport with. He labels himself a trickster and also follows an ancient horned god as well.” “And?” “We seemed to be going fine, I suppose, until I spoke about my desire, my hunger, for power. He didn’t grasp what I meant and told me rather quickly that I have got my focus all wrong." I pause for a moment...

This is how I do my journaling. It's a unique process I created that I call  Magical Alpha Dialogue . It reads as fiction.  Enjoy. Or not. “Show me evidence of your progress, my love.” My heart jumps to my throat. “My lord?” “Your projects, pet. Any of them.” He looms over my desk, his hands behind his back like a school teacher. “Um …” “As I suspected. You have not seen me about any planning.” "No, my lord. However, my radar is always scanning for useful material to gather and prepare. Like on Canva … I have the template design for videos that I would do. Dante-style … just with words, and music. “And I collect sky images and put them on social media, with a leaderful voice, my lord.” “Show me the numbers, little one.” “What numbers, my lord?” “Take your pick. Your followers, your subscribers, views, dollars …” He watches me squirm. “I … I cannot tell you, my lord.” “Let’s try another direction. How many activities have you started, pet?” “Qui...