A Case For Mernagis

What do you think friends?  Is this fragment worth expanding into a full story?…Did I tickle your desire for more?


Sorrow filled my soul
But then…
I saw you
Faint in the distance
A shadow glistening
Afraid but more curious
I walked towards you
Your hypnotic trance
Blinded me
The air filled with the scent of jasmine
The heavens became a pallet of colors
Blues, reds, greens…
I fell into the illusion
Thick with a desire I had never known
My heart raced wanton
I supplicated myself to you
And from that moment forward
I was yours completely

Salted tears fell on to her once wet scales soaking in every drop it could absorb. Why now? I wondered. Why did she not break into complete and utter pieces?

Shadows played constant in those days. We dared not speak of truth or wonderment or bliss or love. We learned the respect necessary for us to do their bidding. When she spoke of where she wanted to flow her energy it was always into the ground, earth, mother. She scattered the ashes of her soul until she could stand it no longer. Water’s freedoms held no place in her heart. Or that is what she wanted us to believe.

I would whisper into her torn heart, attempting to heal the wound but there was no healing left to be had. She had surrendered into twilight’s shadows and whispered the remembering sounds of her now lost homeland. The leader of a kingdom bereft and forgotten. The mission to be here was great but now? There was nothing left and she had no way of informing her children of their next steps.

I watched, observed, and recorded the events since before our homeland was diminished. I tell you now there is nothing more joyous than linking our skins, sharing our thoughts, merging our hearts…Nothing more freeing than lifting into water’s effervescence so as to share just a moment of joy…to become that joy. I would plead with her to let us link our tails. But no, she never acquiesced. She never allowed us to share our hearts and minds. “Too dangerous” she would telepath to us. Always in the simplest language. Two words to keep us on the straight and narrow.

As the keeper of our history, I felt it my duty to observe and record events both public and private. At times this entailed me following our people’s movements. But of course I would edit events as it seemed necessary and for the sake of clarity. And I always give her the greatest leniency. But she became so secretive about her comings and goings I felt it was now time to exercise my record keeping for the greater good of our peoples.

I stalked the shadows silently slithering my way over the earth’s carpet remaining nothing but a ghost, careful to not reveal a telepathic fragment. On alert just in case danger became eminent. There I found her merging with him. Teaching him the ways of our peoples. “How could she betray us?” I thought to myself. “She must have staged these rendezvous to keep him off balance. ” I felt her grief plunge her into the deepest of sorrows. She had always worn her heart on her wing. I watched as she entwined her tail from his feet up to his groin. Her excitement grew. My heart melted into hers. And he sensed the shift.

“Stop it!!!” her two-word command telepathed with utmost clarity; so much so that our union became that much more evident. But I couldn’t help myself. She was me. I was her. And our Sisters were forgetting.

I closed my eyes so as not to witness her betrayal but once again, I became consumed with her desire. It was a well of passion that seemed to me could never run dry. I climbed into my skin, raising myself above the jungle’s canopy and soaked in the damp dawn. The ecstasy I felt in this early dawn mist was the closest experience I had to our watery world’s stratosphere.

My hearts skipped a beat. Suddenly I found myself in a kind of ecstatic hunger I had never before experienced. I soared higher into the sky and as I did a rooting, a grounding chord of sorts, burst open from the bottom of my spine and began surging upwards. I could feel her frenzy, gushing back and forth against his lingam as it swelled into a hard mass. I soared higher and my womb beaconed me into union with all my water-lust sisters. My belly rose and lowered into a kind of dance with his lingam and as it did a heat rose into my solar plexus exploding into the birthing of a thousand suns. I became confused, frenzied, and unable to stop myself from this ecstatic hunger. I wanted more, whatever the cost.

I looked up into the icy blue sky now filled with white fluffy clouds. The sky was their pallate depicting beings of numerous kinds. These imagined beings seemed to share my ecstasy as I soared higher I felt the heat rise to my hearts where it danced and played moving into my breast and out my nipples connecting into a loop back down into my yoni and back again. The pleasure so intense I wanted it never to stop. Fearing a softening in the energy, I reached down with my hand rubbing my yoni in a soft rhythm. I could feel her frustration as I rebuilt the energy into yet an even greater pulsation. She wanted to maintain control. I wanted complete abandon.

And as our two opposing wills fought for control, he took his mouth to her breast suckling and she screamed in ecstasy as I rose even higher into the stratosphere. The clouds churned, blasting a chorus of thunderous harmonics as whips of lightning bolts shot through the sky. My voyeurism knew no bounds and I believe he knew I was there reaping his pleasure, increasing hers. With that awakening I knew I could control her want. I reached up to my breasts caressing them, tickling my nipples into pure delight.

The sky continued its cacophony of sound as she moved to the center of her heart’s fire and rose it up into her throat letting out sonic sounds so piercing yet so alluring as to burst the clouds open into a rain fierce with abandon. She looked up to the sky and although unable to see me as I hid behind one of the now dark gray masses, She knew I was there in all my voyeur-like joy. As I acknowledged this, her will took over raising the fire from her throat into her forehead. There it blazed out the center of her head into a stream of a thousand rainbows filled with lightening. Their two pelvises rocked forcefully back and forth in complete union, while I stayed in rhythm with them using my hand to substitute for his pelvis. Their heat rose in a spiral-like frenetic rhythm finally blasting out the top of their heads as the rain poured down around them. His once fierce heat was now subdued as he stroked her hair wet with rain gently rubbing what looked to me to be a third eye just above and directly in the middle of her brows.

I too was spent and gently floated downward eventually finding my way to the earth’s sweet floor.  After such sweet torment I found myself resting, surrendering to midnight’s call. And as I did I found myself recognizing the power of darkness. It is sweet, damp and full of untamed wonder. Nothing touches the dark but everything rises from it.

My head and face met the earth’s grace with a fierce desire to turn the day’s delight into a shadowy reflection of the night’s turbulent unknown. I laid my head to the side so as to feel the rich earth’s dampness on my face and breathed in the intoxicating aroma of musk delight. It tickled my nose and offered me a kind of excitement akin to my voyeuristic playground. I turned my head further into the soil breathing in the magical aromas. Rubbing my face deeply into the cool earth’s fragrance. I twitched and turned until I found myself writhing into the earth’s lair blanketing myself in her essential rhythms. Each odor of the night called to me as I moved my way to her. First the grass so sweet and soft…a bath of green dew; followed by root’s fallow smelling soured pleasures…

Books Poetry

Mystic Wayfarer…One Soul’s Journey Into Light

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A poetry book dedicated to the healing of Souls

For years Kristina had randomly written poetry on scraps of paper and numerous false start journals. Two years after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s she decided to compile this poetry hoping she might offer inspiration to others who are dealing with various life challenges..

The book covers a fifteen year period of time from when she first laid down her acting career to recalling repressed memories of child abuse to the healing she experienced through the deep love she shares with her husband and how that love lead her to her ever deepening spiritual life where she was finally ready to deal with her diagnosis of Parkinson’s.


There is a kind of darkness that from time to time descends over the human spirit.  And it’s in those dark times that the true soul’s emergent growth occurs.  There is no replacement for transcendence.  When we dive into the muck and mire, there is a kind of transformative beauty that blossoms and awakens the soul.  Like those moments of first love’s blush when the ecstasy and pain share equal space within the heart.  There’s a peace where pain brings us into the present moment.  Pain transcends time and informs the depth of love that lives within the great chasm of our divine spirit and we become still, undistracted, present.

Grief, tears, and yes rage allow the great force of transformation to take its place within our embodiments.  It’s in these moments that our deepest pains enter the bounty of pure love and teach us of our true nature.   We awaken bit by bit.  At first we observe the light of our soul as a faraway pinnacle like the headlight of a distant oncoming train.  The light appears nonthreatening, a simple reminder of the soul’s voice.  But the pinhole of light expands as it approaches and we begin to experience a rush of excitement, an urge to enter that light.  We become mesmerized.  Like the train approaching, we are hypnotized into the light that is no longer a pinhole but a brightening beacon rushing forward without any possibility of stopping.  It’s full force, straight ahead.  We are now within the circle of that light.  Every cell, molecule, atom is engaged in the transformation.  And we surrender to its call.

Again, like those dark times, the light draws us into a moment by moment experience of the present and we become submerged.  The balance of light playing and dark dancing happens through the juncture of love’s divine presence through our being.  Every moment of who we are echoes through the arc of love and we experience those dark nights of the soul swimming, playing with our mergence into the light.  Without love there is no embrace, no refinement; but without the dark there would be no awakening into the light.  And the circle of our spirit to matter and back again quickens.

These poems are an expression of my own awakening into my humanity.  Without humanity and the experience of the spectrum of dark to light and back again, there would be no play amongst the Divine.  And the Divine is right here with us in every moment of our existence, expression and embodiment of love, light and dark, with all her various shades in-between.

I invite you to enter each poem diving into your own experience of the many moments of oneness you have known in your own lives.

As my soul touches your heart and your soul touches mine through the sweet pages that lie in between us…

Kristina Sanborn

With love and blessings,






The female mystic is an unusual thing to find out in the wide open these days. Oh, we may see them self-advertised at expo fairs and in high end self-improvement retreats. But this is not wide open. These are diversions of the glitter of perfectionism. The female mystic is not concerned with product, self-improvement, and the glamour of being held on a pedestal. She has one all-consuming aim. Union.

Internal union is the passion to unite all of one’s own parts into the field of God/dess and yearn for its reflection. In the mystic’s path it is only through the deepest surrender and truth seeing that one can unite with God/dess. And even this may not be guaranteed. But so hungry is the yearning that the true mystic is choice-less. There is no other way than what the soul calls for.Yearning is what allows the heart to be set ablaze. A fire is then born in which to keep offering the hard shells of our defenses against absolute love. I have born witness to Kristina’s offering to this fire again and again. What emerges from here is the mirror of her poems. These poems which reflect an unedited kaleidoscope of the deepest human experiences which in turn become the deepest roots of our Divinity.

As we bear witness to the relentless touch of time and sometimes our frustration at not being able to stop the wheel, it is the poet who brings us this gift of the timeless. Kristina’s writing allows us to feel the wheel as it turns from despair and contractions to the experience of beauty which takes us outside time itself. Her poems anchor us deeply into our own humanity yet allow us to find a doorway outside of limited human existence when we need a reprieve.

“Mystic Wayfarer, One Souls Journey into Light” is an invitation into this Dance of the Embrace. Poem by poem, line by line, and word by word, each a step of turning towards all that we are conditioned to turn against. Oh, what a joy it is!”

Nita Rubio (aka Nisha Bhairavi) Yogini & Master Teacher of The Tantric Dance of Feminine Power.

What People Are Saying About…

“Over the course of more years than I care to admit, I’ve been witness to Kristina’s multi-faceted talents as actress, musician, writer, composer, fellow spiritual seeker and dear friend. Of all of her worthy endeavors, perhaps most compelling is her poetry. It is a reflection of her soul; an out-picturing of her inner and outer travels and, as such, a daily mantra of a visionary creative spirit; an expression for you to share and experience with her in consciousness. Mystic Wayfarer, One Soul’s Journey Into Light is powerful, purposeful, intimate, and, like Kristina herself, utterly unique in its power to alter your world. It is profoundly personal, yet it reveals a recognizable, emergent collective wisdom. As you revel in each stanza, you are invited to delight in your own quest for ecstasy, seeking union with the Divine through a discovery of your own unfolding divinity, held in each painful, joyful, cherished moment of humanness.”  ~ Donna Walker, Host/Producer “Pacifica Performance Showcase,” KPFK 90.7 FM, Pacifica Radio.

“Within the rhythm of her excellent poesy, Kristina Sanborn walks us through a life well-earned. One wants to travel with each individual poem in a front pocket, and take it out to look at its map – which means there will be the pleasure of dancing through its theme once more – and then satisfied, ready oneself for the adventure of the following stride. And though they each stand on their own, I found the collection of poems to be mighty and muscular when read in a conscious promenade, for the complete work engages the reader’s mind to an insistent and necessary wayfaring, a forward motion, a need. The prize is a most certain peace of mind, as her beautiful images leap up and encircle you on your walk – like luminous autumn leaves in a very brave wind.”

~ Randall Stuart, Founder & Director of CERIMON HOUSE, A Sanctuary for the Humanities

“Kristina’s poetry, in her new book Mystic Wayfarer, moves in the serpentine ways of women’s mystery. Seeping into the soul and dancing you from the inside out. Her journey carries you to places near and far, inside and out and brings you back to the home of your own body with infinite grace and beauty. It has been a joy and a privilege to bear witness to her journey and dance in the mystery with her. May others come to find as much joy, pleasure and value in her words as I have.”

~ Sandy Pendleton, MA, Teacher and Coach, Women’s Mysteries

For more information please visit

Books Dogs

Sipping Tea With Golden Kobi

Life Lessons I am learning through my Golden Retriever Kobi…along with his side kick Little Guy Oscar…and introducing the now infamous Lita…


This project began as a blog I created while recovering from shoulder replacement surgery.  During this period of my life I had a difficult time being still…then one day along came pain, excruciating pain in my right shoulder.  The eventuality of this was a shoulder replacement.  After the surgery along with a three day stay in the hospital, all I could manage was blankly staring at the television…boredom soon followed and I began observing my beloved boy, my Kobi.  As I witnessed his ways, his moods, his being I became more and more aware of the teacher that he was to me and the place he served in my heart.

During those initial few months of recovery he never left my side but still lived moment to moment in his own world.  As I began writing the lessons he was offering to me, I gained strength…healing physically but also emotionally.

Now I am taking these lessons and putting them into a table top book of inspiration.  Hopefully the bones of stories he has imparted to me will inspire others on their own path.


Lonely Tree

Perhaps it was the weather change or perhaps it was the shorter days.  Regardless of the reason, she found herself full of longing.  Longing like she had never known before.  For years, generations it seemed, she stood atop her beloved hillside contented to simply overlook the lake.  It still shimmered its usual silvery sparkles and reflected the pines standing tall at the water’s edge but now there was emptiness inside of her.  The majestic white cranes still flew out of nowhere diving down into the silver waters fishing for their daily meal but there was no longer pleasure in the watching.

Season after season, year after year, decade after decade she was able to maintain her fascination in the flight of the crane, the dropping of pine needles to the ground, the shimmering silver of the lake.  She had always found humor in the squirrels climbing through the trees seeking seeds from within the pine’s cones then filling their jowls full of the meaty morsels and stealing the stash back to their nests hidden high up within the tree’s recesses.  Preparing for winter’s snowy cold was always entertaining.  But no longer.

She breathed in the early fall air.  There was the usual nip that would lead to her leaves turning colors of yellow, orange, red and brown.  She inhaled a draft of fall’s chilly fair.  Breathing in the change of season awakened her.  She looked down at her rooted feet descending below the ground.  For decades, since her earliest recollection, she had taken joy in her singular presence.  There wasn’t a tree like her. And the fall changing of her multi colors into nakedness then returning to green fullness in the spring kept her believing she was the hillside’s singular star of the show.

Sap tears streamed down the crevices of her trunk.  Everything was the same but wasn’t. She sighed and moaned with the gentle wind.  The rustling of her hand-like leaves danced early morning’s worship of fall’s approaching shorter light, her trunk covered in sap glistening in the twilight.

In past seasons she had always found a sense of pride in her particular uniqueness.  But now she wondered why the cranes never lighted on her branches before diving down into the water’s silvery beauty; why the squirrels only built their nests in the pines by the lake.
The one consistent friend was Crow who always descended at the most profound times and today was no exception.

“Feeling so-sorrow for yourself?”  Crow soared in landing near the top of Tree’s branches nearly startling her into an early falling of leaves.

“Would you mind please Crow?  I’m not feeling sorry for myself.  I’m simply feeling melancholy with the change of seasons.”

“Caw-caw!” laughed Crow.  “I didn’t say sorry…I said sorrow.  Ever since you saw those two-trunked trees with roots that move across the surface of the earth you’ve been feeling terribly lo-lonely.  I shall rename you Lonely Tree.”  A strong wind ripped through the sky lighting Crow into the air.  She spread her wings following the wind’s direction cawing as she sailed out of sight.

“Why can I not fly through the air like Crow?”  Sap dripped with abandon from Lonely Tree’s trunk.  “Why do I not move across the ground like the two-trunked trees?  And where are the other trees like me?  Why am I the only one?”  The wind stormed echoing Lonely Tree’s sorrow as night descended over the hillside, across the tall pines and over the silvery lake purging all into darkness.  She fell asleep dreamily listening to the gentle rustle of her leaves dancing in the wind.

Over the centuries Lonely Tree had memorized each and every moment of early morning’s awakening: the distant caw of Crow, the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees, the lapping of the silvery lake’s waters against the shore.  There was comfort for her in the sameness.  But on this morning there was a different set of sounds.

There were playful back and forth sounds not unlike the metallic vocal click of squirrels echoed by the bird’s rhythmic chirp informing one another of dawn’s arrival. Lonely Tree stretched her branches wide lifting her crown up to the sky.  The direction of the music turned her attention to the water’s edge.  And there she saw them again…the two-trunked trees that could move across the ground.

Lonely Tree followed their movements through the day.  There were three short two-trunks who seemed to enjoy the lake’s edge.  They would run like the wind then climb into the pines using the branches like a ladder reaching high where the squirrels hid their nests.  There was also a pair of tall two-trunks who mostly lazed by the water’s edge.  However when the smaller ones reached beyond their site into the pine’s branches, they would jump up squawking and screeching until the little ones descended down the pine’s trunk.  Watching their games gave Lonely Tree great pleasure yet at the same time their joyous freedom of movement brought a yearning deep within her heart she simply could not quell.

She had never known small trees of her own kind.  She wondered at the delight of watching and playing with little ones like herself.  The wind blew strong up across the lake carrying the sound of the little two-trunk’s laughter.

“Oh if only they would run this way.” Lonely tree sighed as her leaves fell to the ground around her.  Fall had come fully alive.  “Come play with me” she whispered to the wind hoping the little two-trunked ones would follow her cries.  “Come play with me.” But they never heard her.

Days turned into weeks and the yearly ritual of Lonely Tree’s leaves falling to the ground came and went until she found herself in all her naked brilliance waiting for winter’s first snowfall.  The two-trunks had left long ago and seemed nothing but a distant memory except for the lingering loneliness that remained. She sighed and moaned in the wind and soothed herself with watching the pine trees dropping their cones to the ground around them.  Occasionally a cone would fall into the silvery lake rippling circles outward like echoes on the wind.

“Caw-caw”   Lonely Tree looked up to see Crow coming in for a landing high amongst her branches.  “It’s time for you to stop feeling so-sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself.  I’m just feeling…feeling sad that’s all” snapped Lonely Tree; her branches becoming heavy with snow as yearning filled her heart.

“You’re missing what you’ve never lost” Crow cawed.

“What does that mean?  You speak in riddles!!!”  Just as Lonely Tree’s voice rose in frustration, a group of Crow’s family flew overhead in perfect formation calling for Crow to join them.  “Gotta caw-go.”  And with that Crow spread her wings flying into the wind to join her fellow brothers and sisters.  Lonely Tree waved her naked branches knowing she wouldn’t spar with her friend until spring’s early thaw.

Winter seemed longer than ever that year.  The silvery lake froze over hard so not even a rippling of water distracted Lonely Tree from her isolation. Even the pine’s cones ceased their falling.  She sighed and moaned but there was no one to hear, no one to sooth her fallen spirit.

As snow melted into early spring, Lonely Tree’s mood never lightened.  She had always enjoyed the relief of the heavy snow melting off her branches.  Her roots would soak in the fresh, almost frozen water with great zest but the heaviness which had invaded her heart knowing she was the only tree of her kind never left her.  Her gentle hand-like leaves once again began growing.  They danced in the wind and caressed her still chilled-to-the-bone branches.  The love of spring’s green growth filled her broken heart.

Although she still felt her loneliness, she lifted her branches high into the sky.  “It’s time to let go of this moroseness!”  Lonely Tree declared.  “So what if I’m the only tree of my kind?  It’s not like I can get up and go searching.  I’m not like those two-trunks. I’m stuck right here; might as well learn to live with it.”  Lonely Tree stood up tall, filled with bravado but still, inside her heart of hearts, she secretly longed for companionship.

“Maybe those two-trunks will return and come lay beneath my shady branches.”  And it seemed, just as she made her wish, the sound of laughter filled the air. The family of two-trunks hiked into view laying their gear at the water’s silvery edge.  “They’re back!”  Lonely Tree declared.  “They’re back!”  She closed her eyes chanting “Come to me, come to me, come to me…”

And as if by magic, the three little ones began throwing what looked like a large, solid pine cone.  Each time they passed the object back and forth to one another they moved further and further up the hill.  Their laughter rose in volume as they came closer and closer. All at once the large, solid pine cone object hit Lonely Tree’s trunk and the three little ones came running up under her branches out of breath collapsing to the ground in joyous laughter.

Lonely Tree closed her eyes, filled with ecstasy.  She breathed in the little two-trunk’s musky odor.  No longer was she the only tree on the hill.  The little ones rolled around on the ground wrestling for control over the solid pine cone object.  And after a long time of wrestling and playing they curled up against Lonely Tree’s trunk falling into a lazy afternoon nap.

Lonely Tree soaked in the joy.  She breathed in rhythm with the three little two-trunks.  Never before had she felt so contented.  As her breath became one and the same with the little ones, she found herself moving dreamily down, down, down; deep into her own roots.  She followed her roots far under the hill until she felt them touch another set of roots.

“Oh my!!! What is this?”

Lonely Tree’s awareness once again popped up high into her branches and as it did, she turned behind herself following the view down the other side of the hill.  And there, at the bottom of the hill stood a grove of trees that looked just like her!!!  She turned to her right, which she had never done, and there she saw other trees; not pine or trees like herself, but trees with delicate, white trunks and thin wispy-like leaves.  The white trunked ones turned to her and waved their branches.  Again she looked behind herself and watched as her fellow like-kinded trees waved their branches filled with delicate hand-like leaves in her direction. She turned to the left and saw a vista of spring flowers, meadows filled with multi-colored grasses and a multitude of different kinds of trees.  As she stood watching, mesmerized by the beauty around her, a flock of crows flew over head.  She looked up, directly above her and saw Crow descending, landing high in her branches.

“Well?”  Asked Crow with a bit of mockery in her voice.

“I can’t believe I’ve been missing all this beauty, all this companionship.”

“It’s always been here.  You just needed a wider…let’s say full-fuller view.”

Lonely Tree’s sap tears flowed down her trunk.  But for the first time her tears were tears of joy.  She moved her awareness down once again, deep down into the earth, stretching out her roots full and long, intertwining them with her fellow, like-kinded trees.  Then all at once she felt the tickling of little feet running up her trunk.  She opened her eyes to see a squirrel heading into a nest high amongst her branches!

“When did you build that nest? Lonely Tree was astonished as she had never noticed Squirrel building a nest.

“What are you talking about?  Squirrel seemed quite perplexed.  “My family has lived amongst your branches for generations.”  With that she scurried into her nest out of site.

Now Crow just had to caw in.  “Do you see how when you cut yourself off from your own kind?  You don’t even see when friends of other kinds are there just waiting for your companionship.”

“But what about you Crow?  You’ve always been there.  You’ve always been my friend.”

“Even when you feel you’ve sunk to your lowest, somewhere mother earth holds you in her arms.  I’ve simply been there for you until you were ready to make a direct connection.”  Crow’s caw came as a soft, loving coo, a gentle rocking in the soul.

Lonely Tree was so deeply moved words remained beyond her reach.

“You were missing what you never lost.”  Crow whispered.

“Yes, yes…I see.” Lonely Tree watched as the sun sank below the horizon leaving the clouds in the sky ablaze in the colors of red, orange and pink.  She breathed in deeply as the wind gently blew rustling her hand-like leaves. Squirrel snuggled inside her nest high atop Lonely Tree’s branches. A pair of white cranes dipped down into the silvery lake for an early evening supper of fish.  And at the base of her trunk the little two-trunks rolled back and forth slowly awakening from their dreams. Lonely Tree moved down, down, down intertwining her roots with her brothers and sisters of like-kinded trees on the other side of the hill. All her senses were alive with love.

“I’ve never been alone.” declared Lonely Tree; “I just needed to look in a different direction.”

“I suppose we’ll need to find you a new name.” With that Crow lifted herself up high on the wind waving her wings good-bye to her friend.

Lonely Tree smiled, returning Crow’s farewell as she waved her branches now overflowing with spring’s delicate hand-like leaves.

“I suppose we will.  I suppose we definitely will.”