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Sarah

offline 26 friends
joined on 06/05/08
last updated 08/22/09
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Rumor has it . . .

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My Friends

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Tip of the Iceberg:

Gender
Female
Age
25
Location
about me
"A mistress to magicians and a dancer to the gods"

"Sarah is really smart . . . Smart like she's planning the apocalypse. Like she's gonna be the only one in the world left standing, and when the last apple falls from the last tree she's gonna catch it, take a bite, and walk away".
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The Music of What Happens

I have launched a new blog called Sub Rosa. It's like a secret club of which you are already a member. The secret: you didn't know about it until now. Come check it out. Read, enjoy, add your comments and subscribe via RSS for your feedreader if you feel so moved!

sarahcpeters.wordpress.com
Sat, August 22, 2009 - 10:31 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
Dear Everyone,

Around this time of year I like to revisit this letter and share it with those I love and esteem. It was written on Christmas Eve in 1513 by Franciscan scholar Fra Giovanni Giocondo and addressed to the Most Illustrious the Contessina Allagia degli Aldobrandeschi. From a distance of almost five centuries, Fra Giocondo reminds me of the "radiance and glory in the darkness" evident in the Winter Holidays that we can carry forward into the new year. He writes:

"There is nothing I can give you which you have not got; but there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take. No Heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it to-day. Take Heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant. Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in the darkness, could we but see; and to see, we have only to look. Contessina I beseech you to look.

Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendour, woven of love, by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the Angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty: believe me, that angel's hand is there; the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing Presence. Our joys, too: be not content with them as joys, they too conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and of purpose, so full of beauty—beneath its covering—that you will find that earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage, then to claim it: that is all! But courage you have; and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together, wending through unknown country, home.

And so, at this Christmas time, I greet you; not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem, and with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away."


To his beautiful words I can add only my heartfelt wish for health, happiness, and love for you all now and in the coming year.

Yours,
Sarah
Wed, December 24, 2008 - 9:47 AM permalink - 0 comments
 
1. I love the hush that snowfall spreads over the world, and breathing the cold pure air that sweeps the mind clean as I walk through it.

2. I love my knee-high lace-up boots and the traction their hefty soles provide.

3. I love waking in a big warm bed and emerging from the warren of blankets to touch the ice-cold windowpane.

4. I love soups and stews with winter root vegetables - parsnip, turnip, potato, carrot, squash . . .

5. I love Christmas lights - from the elegant white ones that wind around trees and festoon buildings downtown, to the candy-colored bulbs on the Christmas Tree, to really tacky, garish, over-the-top displays on suburban homes.

6. I love bundling up before I head out the door in wool and leather and furry hats like an exiled Russian Czarina.

7. I love mulled red wine in the evenings.

8. I love how the Moon seems to shine brighter in the rising dark.

9. I love the inward-turning of the season that encourages dreaming, quiet, stillness, and long rest.

10. I love the bare branches of trees that etch their dark calligraphy on the deep blue sky.
Tue, December 16, 2008 - 1:02 PM permalink - 1 comment
 
That's right, the fella and I will be attending the Faerieworlds Masquerade Ball at the end of January. Since we bought our tickets we've been scheming and shopping and formulating some grand costumes. I'm electing to keep the mythical, magical theme a secret, but I wanted to share my "swatch sheet" because I'm very pleased with the color scheme: crimson cloak, blue gown, and gold bodice. Grant's costume will be shadowier (look, new word!) but no less sumptuous in black and silver. Soon we'll be dancing the nights away with the rest of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts!
Sat, November 29, 2008 - 6:25 PM permalink - 0 comments
 
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Rosa Mystica

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White Rose

The heart-bud opens under the light of grace
From the unknown depths to the unseen heights
This opening is my offering

The heart-rose blossoms in the abode of peace
At the bowl of plenty and the awl of need
This opening is my offering

The flower of my heart endures
In the shade of valleys and on the pitiless peaks
I offer this, my heart

Through dewy morning, parched noon, dreaming night
It grows in wonderment, secret gladness
This opening is my offering

I am the unfurling, petal by petal
Velvet soft, pure and luminous
Spiraled, folded upon the Inner Heart
My offering is the miracle of slow revelation

~ SCP 5.9.07

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Botanical Family Album

Siblings: Apple, Rose, Hawthorn - kin to blackthorns, rowans and other bright thorny brambles.
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"Sensuality" - or the Sacred Whore

by Franz von Stuck
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The Priestess's Song

I met my Shadow - crazy, feminine, bereft, angry, expressive, potent, erotic - and this is what she said to me:

“I am the sweeper of the charred catacombs and the filler of the dark well.
I salt old wounds and lick clean the flowing blood.
I am the willing arch of your back that baits the trap.
I bring your enemies to bed.
I am the little death of their ecstasy in the grave between your thighs.
Despoiled and vengeful, Virgin am I!

I am what you vainly seek in the eyes of men.
I am your reflection in the heat-haze of their lust.
Every nail-scratch down your back tore the Holy Veil.
Every vivid mark overturned a sacred stone.
I am your power neglected, perverted, disavowed.
Exiled to madness, Priestess am I!

In the depths your spark, untended, raged.
Your heedless hands brought the Temple down.
Your blind eyes watched it burn.
Into a Pearl of the Moon that ember cooled,
And in stillness I secreted the Treasure away.
Prisoner of forgetting, Keeper am I!”