Tuesday, June 18, 2013

BRAISING THE STEAKS OF DISPARAGE

It seems the stakes for marriage are raised these days…

I call it now, braising the steaks of disparage, for that is what has to happen.

You see, I have to fire up my stove of life, throw the meat of my own flesh upon it, turn up the heat and fry it up, and then cover it with water and a lid and stew it a good long time until it is tender and finally ready to consume. Only this way does it taste better. Only this way will it be worth the time and effort. Only this way will the end product be worth the wait.

It is a sacrifice of self, for a future possible marriage.

It is a sacrifice that burns upon an altar of belief.

Marriage is a sacrifice. But while some sacrifices of mine have been made by getting married, this time the sacrifices must come in order to be married... one day.

It is a marriage of the soul to the universe, yet are we worthy to contend?

Of course. For the universe is all things, and it is all things that I desire.

It is representative of the greatest energy of LOVE. It is the archetype of the twin flames, the woman, the man, the King, the Queen.

Positions of highest stature. Nothing less will do.

All love, all purity, all energy, all manifestation, all peace, and freedom from all of the material burdens that have held back and kept my soul and mind seemingly unworthy of achieving what I envisioned myself to have.

What has kept it from me? Me.

Disparage. It means to make of low worth, originally meaning to degrade (by marriage) below one’s class, or marry below one’s class.

No King should have to marry the servant, or the commoner. No Queen should do the same.

Disparage, in this case, is the sacrifice that must occur before any new marriage of greater exaltation.

Even engagement is put off until the steaks have been braised.

I never thought my self-worth would be a factor, but it is.

I never thought my limitations in my goals mattered, but they do.

I never realized that raising the goals would affect me so deeply, but they have.

I did not raise them. They were raised for me.

When we met we discussed marriage… and decided it was for us.

Yet when several months passed, the rules seemed to change. 21 months later, financial freedom is the goal, before even an inkling of marriage or promises could come to pass.

I stand here blinking innocently as to what happened?

Am I unworthy as I am?

I am worthy. But I must meet that worth with goals befitting of a Queen.

Otherwise it would be disparage on his part, but his standards are high.

My self-worth needs to be raised.

My sacrifices are imminent.

I stand at the precipice of the frying pan, ready to jump into the fire. I fall. I land and sear my flesh. I do it because there is no alternative.

Everything must follow the recipe.

The rules of searing one’s life into something greater. Doing more with your time than merely wasting it continually. Setting goals and following the plan. Braising your steak.

Cover it with new emotions of dedication.

Put the lid of purity upon it, to keep out all things that would invade or let the flavor out.

Let it stew… cook… simmer for a good long time.

This is the real work before it is done.

Energy. It takes energy to heat and sustain that heat for any length of time.

But the recipe demands it.

Braise your meat, sacrifice your old self for something greater.

To become.

We become every day…

We manifest that which we choose by our own default setting.

To change the default is to braise.

To braise the steaks of our life.

To braise it so that disparage will turn into something worth eating.

No use crying in the sacrifice. For that reality is old, and not of the new, or of the reward that will become.

There is something beautiful about cooking. For it transforms raw flesh into something that raises the senses of smell and taste and flavor and desire!

Would you rather eat the raw flesh of lowly living, or the braised steak of disparage that has been transformed into a meal fit for a King?

He will eat of me…

I am his Queen; it’s time to start playing the part.

It is time to live it.

He will eat of me…

And I will be worth the wait. But then, he will too.

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