Anthony Rella, MA, LMHC

Category: Writing

  • The Lion and The Stillness

    Strength, Visconti Tarot (15th Century)

    I keep an oracle on my desk, a pot filled with challenges, and the one I drew said to deal with something that I’d been avoiding. I felt annoyed and swore at myself for having left this oracle in the first place, a trap waiting to spring. If I dig deeply enough beneath the habits of avoidance, postponement, and procrastination, I eventually find dread.

    Dread is the lion at the mouth of the cave wherein my life’s energy and purpose is trapped. The lion shows up as anxiety, fear, even anger. The lion is something I do not trust, something dangerous and feral that stirs in me the immediate urge to resist. Why on earth would I want to go face a lion, even if the most precious treasure lies behind him? What would I do when I face the lion, unprepared and ill-equipped as I am to fight?

    Instead of facing the lion I find other ways to spend my time, knowing all the while that he keeps what I desire. I check Facebook for hours, I go buy a box of cookies and eat it all, I sleep a lot, I exercise excessively, I work a thousand hours per week, I get into petty arguments on the Internet with people who do not exist in my daily life, and all the while in the back of my mind I know there’s a lion who’s guarding the only thing that truly matters to me.

    In my imagination I’m a badass warrior who takes down the lion with one blow, or I’m such a glorious being that the lion immediately bows before me. On the other end, in my imagination the lion devours me in one gulp, or strips me apart bit by bit. For all my fear, I don’t know the lion, I only know my image of him.

    When I decide, finally, that I can no longer survive in a world where I allow this lion to control what’s mine, I turn and walk toward him. Not knowing what will happen, the anger and dread rise within me and all I can do is keep breathing and seeking stillness. The lion returns whatever energy is directed toward him; he terrorizes the terrified; he assaults the angry; he devours the anxious. What I can do is breathe deeply into stillness. The anger is there, the fear is there, and I am there, breathing in stillness and breathing out softness. Each breath is a spell on myself, a spell to become something soft and supple, something that can adapt to the moment but move forward.

    From this stillness emerges something quiet and profound. A love that reaches across the space. Eyes meet and still there is anger, still fear, still stillness, and I am there, breathing with it all and walking forward, and the lion is there, approaching me. When we meet, the lion’s mouth opens and within is the cave wherein my energy and purpose is kept. When we meet, I am fully myself and more than I was before.

    The lion is always waiting.

    Buddha under the Nagas, Nong Khai, Thailand — by jpatokal

  • In honor of all women and all feminities

    Seven Forms of Het-Heru

    Lady of the Universe

    You in whom spirit is housed
    and given sustenance pour
    bliss and suffering from manifold
    udders, streaming milk across
    ink-oceans blooming with galaxies.
    In jubilation, all beings honor You.
    Eternal recurrence is Your crown,
    the twelve patterns of all seasons.

    Unable to find source artist—if known, please notify me.

    Sky-Storm

    Western terror, You scatter
    tiny nations that choke
    the land of HeruSet. Cobra
    of Ra, You strike the enemies
    of Ma’at without justification.

    You from the Land of Silence

    Hollowness of bone, deep
    tone of silence emanating
    from the great still sky; You
    offer Your beloved the secret,
    the emptiness of wisdom.

    Bright Red

    You are Ra entering the chamber
    of sleep and sex, unveiling mystery
    to craving hands and eyes starved
    of sensuality: the delight of mocha
    skin, cords of hair falling like rope
    to lift supplicants from their longing.

    Your Name Flourishes through Skill

    Inspiration given to disciples,
    not the amateur’s flourish,
    but those who listen daily
    and attempt Your work anew.
    Blankness and raw material
    is Your temple within which
    pen, brush, or chisel textures
    and imprints color and motion,
    revealing Your secret name.

    Lady of the House of Jubilation

    Stand, children of Nut and Geb,
    for every moment offers you joy.
    Blessings on She who loves
    and opens her breast to your
    weakness, your bitterness.
    Even after years of famine,
    the harvest will return. Tears
    of salt and dust will change
    to the storm-song of laughter.

    Mistress of the East & West

    Dual-headed Het-Her,
    Your arms trace the path
    of Ra’s barque across space,
    opening the gates of return
    and emergence, wiping
    clean the keening mouths
    and soothing restless hearts:
    waking to die, dying to wake.

    NOTE: I had not planned to post this poem, but in light of the recent horrific event and the renewed conversation about misogyny’s poisonous influence in culture and role in perpetuating violence against women, I decided to offer this in honor of all women and all feminine people by celebrating this particular Goddess, also known as Hathor. As a male-identified person, I see my role as helping to reconstruct masculinity and maleness to create a more just and safer culture for people of all genders. 

    Further reading:

    Dear News Media: UCSB shooting is a hate crime

    If I Admit That ‘Hating Men’ is a Thing, Will You Stop Turning it into a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy?

    Teaching Positive Masculinity

    Against Patriarchy: 20 Tools for Men to Further Feminist Revolution

    Dude, It’s You

  • To Eris

    Eris, Goddess of Strife by VP-Manips

    Subtle Twin, whose hand stirs
    the cauldron of space,
    twinkling chaos in grace:
    unlock the closets, unrust
    neglected doors, unseal
    and spill what we may clean.
    When Shame and Conflict
    drop in with armfuls of beer,
    let us laugh at predictable
    outbursts, thoughts kneading
    problems into dried-out clay
    while the body screams
    its longing to smash
    through the hard crust
    formed around the heart.
    With silence filling the temple
    at the center, may our minds
    abandon certitude for joy,
    finding solace in You,
    God Who Shakes the Snow-Globe,
    Monster Beneath Each Bed,
    Goddess Who Is Left Off Every Invitation,
    Joke That Breaks the Peace,
    Blunderer Into the Wrong Conversation,
    Missent Email,
    Whisperer Of The Wrong Name at the Wrong Time,
    Most Holy Malapropism,
    Deleted Text Message,
    Forgotten Person on My Friendslist Who Posts Embarrassing Comments,
    Roaring Fart During Solemn Proceedings,
    Innocent Question That Reveals What No One Wants to Address,
    Lie Accidentally Named.
    May every sickening secret
    soak in Your antibiotic light.
    Save us not from lost integrity,
    but as we stumble, help us
    lift in pride of self-acceptance
    unembarrassed honesty,
    admitting every crack and slip.

  • Odes to Time

    To Linear Time

    Blessings on you, highway
    between birth and death
    upon which experience
    can flower and wither.
    Finite currency, ever-depleting
    account, the hoarding
    of which bankrupts,
    the wise spending
    of which enriches.
    Through you we receive
    the gifts of variety,
    multiplicity of sensation,
    feeling and thought,
    the complex textures
    of Being offered to life.

    Through you we learn
    the powers of ending,
    discernment, and priority,
    savoring what already
    is becoming lost.

    Neheh and Djet, sometimes translated as “Time” and “Eternity”

    To Cyclical Time

    Praise to you, spiral galaxy
    interlocking orbits
    recurrence of season
    and history reminding
    us nothing is complete,
    only refreshing its form.
    Through you forgotten
    lessons are relearned:
    the old births the new,
    the new restores the old.
    Depth of meaning,
    unfathomable purpose
    rotating and shifting,
    unfolding patterns
    informing the cosmos.
    Our eyes constellate
    disparate stars, touching
    every consciousness
    that perceived a shape.
    Each moment contains
    eternal expanse.

  • Advice for a New Year

    Ignore perfect answers.
    Perfect, instead, mistakes.
    Befriend and tend your shame,
    that nuzzling beaten pup
    whimpering through thin bars,
    mutt tongue licking your heart.
    Notice the traps you set
    For friends and enemies
    To prove trustworthiness
    Again. Watch as they fail,
    disappointed to your
    expectations, or spend
    your strength to help them win.
    No problem having problems.
    No worrying worry,
    no fearing future fear.
    Try hoping hopefully,
    enjoying joyfully.
    My father gave advice
    About taking advice:
    “Just say ‘Thank you,’ and do
    whatever you want to.”

  • Blessing Following a Crisis

    May you turn toward this fresh moment, lungs filling with the purpose of living. May this misstep, this stumble, be the step on the path you were meant to follow. May the words spoken out of turn mirror the truth you are ready to meet. May you break the cycle of transgression and punishment. May the trauma weighting your heart melt in fierce compassion, into soft, self-respecting anger. May you find an open hand that you won’t knock aside. May every blessing and gift be offered to you, and may you forgive yourself enough to accept even one.

  • Change

    Every goodbye is a hello. Each exhalation makes space for the next inhalation. The river moves, currents pulling forward, each molecule of water greeting the instantaneous confluence of light, space, earth, time, and passing into the next.

    Sometimes we feel stuck in time. Things that have occurred to us in the past, hurts that continue to hurt, joys that seem forever lost except for our floundering attempts to keep hold. Projects that accumulate because we cannot finish them and we cannot let them go. Empty space that remains empty. Desire left unspoken from the fear that if it’s gained, it will be lost.

    Every hello is a goodbye. The earth’s turn toward darkness and away from the sun. Pulling away the curtain of light to expose the stars, first one, then a hundred, then thousands if we’re lucky enough to live in clear darkness. Without emptiness, we have no room for something new.

    We can pause long enough to linger in the pain that honors connection. We can offer gratitude to all that has arisen and passed away in our lives. We can feel stuck, grouchy, and depressed because we know change is coming. We can stand and decide for ourselves to shape the change that occurs. We can long for a place of rest and keep walking. We can let go of what is no longer working. We can start something new.

    Hello to every breath, goodbye to every breath. This moment is sacred.

  • Heru-em-Anpu

    Disappointed heart,
    mourning eye rectified
    by obstinate will.
    Avenger, dissenter,
    fierce youth, scalding
    passion, aggrieved:
    make intention whole
    with the dark, enfold
    depth with lunar sight.
    Soften steel under
    opalescent light.

    Exalted son, dive into
    shadow. Redeem what
    seeks justice. Reveal
    to enemies your light,
    to allies their ignorance.
    Skirt underworld
    consciousness, rout
    pests and rot, seize
    upon demons and shake
    until they yield their names.

  • Nefertum

    I am he who rises and lights up wall after wall, each thing in succession. There will not be a day that lacks its owed illumination. Pass on, O creatures, pass on, O world! Listen! I have ordered you to! I am the cosmic water lily that rose shining from Nun’s black primordial waters, and my mother is Nut, the night sky. O you who made me, I have arrived, I am the great ruler of Yesterday, the power of command is in my hand.
    — Spell 42, The Book of the Dead

     

    From L’Autel du Désert

    Tides spurred nothing
    heartsore below,
    storming upon self
    long sought, dreamt,
    and wandered hurt.

    So could the eye behold
    skin of waters, lands beloved,
    enacting through wildness
    the dark within,
    whose arms reached
    this sun-kissed eye
    for visions, until life
    longed for wildness
    and emptiness howled
    its longing.
    From nothing—
    dark, wet, fog—
    the sun and stars,
    the blue lotus:
    new skin, solar kiss,
    arms reaching outward.
    Sky cracked with sobs.
    Petals dripped dew salt,
    crystallizing heart.

    Emptiness poured
    forth wet delight.
    Muckbound, earthfed:
    so the lotus unfolds.
    Through his hands
    came essence humbled,
    perfect, crawling,
    enticing sun to life.
    For behold,
    the eyes assent.
    Aching tide sobs the familiar
    within shifting grime.
    So his roots, long-sought,
    dream of surrender.
    Beloved child, outward
    gazing. Be still dew.
    Tears entice, cracking
    petals from crystal
    for wet, new beings.
    Gazing knew delight.
    Being climbed upon nothing,
    beautiful intoxicating
    and so sore-hearted.

    The skin of disparate
    dew child, beloved.

    Nefertum rising from the blue lotus.

    My lotus. Blessed wind.
    Reaching will.
    I beautiful, muckfed,
    sore-hearted need, sought
    my self through grief.
    The stench of blue lotus
    stirred longing, hunger
    for confounding delight—
    shifting each I.
    Blessed Nefertum,
    long-sought, dreamt
    all my days, yearning
    to discover, endured
    to perceive.
    Shit-faced, I surrender
    to your root. Through tide
    and occlusion I crest,
    casting myself to wind,
    enticing relief from essence,
    unfurling wildness within,
    bringing fullness to gods.

  • Upcoming publication and Kickstarter

    To break from my recent trend, I am proud to announce that a short story of mine, “Heart of the Labyrinth,” has been accepted for publication in the upcoming anthology Gay City Volume Five: Ghosts in Gaslight, Monsters in Steam. Follow the link for more information on the anthology and the Kickstarter fundraiser currently in progress, and if it is your will, please support the project.