All of which almost leads me to the here and now of typing this while safe within a 5th story loft, located in the East Village's Art Center, known as the Prosperity Hive - Shakti Popovich's and my living model of sustainable business and livelihood. The Hive, as we like to call it, is a dance and yoga studio as well as a community center. It is a space for "Whole Be-ing Sustainability," and we love every ounce of it - even the painful turbulence that comes with change and growth. Shakti is the yogi and she loves to espouse her yogic philosophy, which brings me full circle and back around to Service.
Service is a key element to Be-ing, especially in these trying, 21st century times. Only recently, have I deepened into offering my dance as Service. And, I have to partially credit Santiago for this. It all began with our friendship and a letter he received from a man he met at a local grocery store. As many of you may know, I love to play the role of the avid documentarian. Film allows me the opportunity to share my story - which I like to believe is our story - with a wider, global audience. Film also offers deeper insight into one's practice and into the very nature of this being human, now. However, I do believe that it is the moments that go uncaptured that forever leave their searing marks on our beings. What I am about to tell I only have written documentation of - which is why I am also a writer. Sometimes, there are moments in life that are so delectable I just want to be able to hold them in the palm of my hand, again and again. So, I write them down. Yes, as much as I preach the notion of "Love as Letting Go," obviously it is hard for me to do so (let go of the past, that is).
So, Santiago was invited in to an HIV Support Home in Hillcrest for a tour and to give a private concert for a group of HIV-infected women. I was humbled and honored to join in on this morning. Our tour guide was a man who credits HIV for giving him back his life. He had wasted too many years seeking solace in the bottom of a beer bottle as a means of escaping the shame of his own homophobia even as he engaged in unprotected, homosexual behavior at a local bathhouse. That day, Santiago strummed the chords on his beloved guitar as a group of undocumented women (here in San Diego, HIV is on the rise in this demographic - as it is always the most vulnerable who are at the highest risk) sat smiling and enjoying the intimate experience. As Santi began to sing the lyrics to "La Primavera," I once again found myself on my feet, swaying to the beat and motioning for the most gregarious of the women to join me in the dance and on the floor. Together, we danced in miraculous time and through divine space as my BodyMind and SoulSpirit sang out, "YES! This is it."
Since then, we have "performed" for the blind, the differently-abled and those whose mental capacities are far beyond anything I have ever been exposed to before. Yes, we have even brought the guitar and its sweet melodies to my senior friends found on Park Boulevard. This past weekend, I found myself alone and gathering an assembled crowd who had come together to raise funds for a local woman who was born with Cystic Fibrosis and, as a result, now direly needs a lung transplant. Listening to her husband talk about his own similar experiences, for they had met at Cystic Fibrosis camp where they both had served as counselors, and how the loss of functioning lung nodes leads to a severe contraction of the ribcage as well as an inability to breathe deeply, I was once again reminded of how fortunate I am for each and every single deep breath I take. I was once again reminded that I no longer want to waste another moment. I was once again reminded that I owe it to the world to show up fully - without hesitation and without fear. I was once again reminded that I don't want to wait for catastrophe to happen, that I don't want another martyr to have to be sacrificed (as was the case in Iran with their beloved Neda) before I wake up, damn it! I was once again reminded that I don't want to have to wake up everyday stroking my skin and thanking AIDS for bringing me to my senses. I was once again reminded to try and remind you. Please, know I love YOU and that I what I want most for YOU is for YOU to LOVE YOU too.
Monday, March 28, 2011
On Service, an interlude
As the video here on my blogspot - posted to the right of this writing - attests, I am a born performer. Stepping into the spotlight, whether it's to hit balls from home plate or to serenade a crowd with my spoken word, comes naturally. In fact, I must say that I quite enjoy the experience. My siblings always accused me of wanting attention and, perhaps, this is partly what my performing had always been about. As a result of these criticisms by others, I refrained from the spotlight for many years. I also did so out of pure rebellion - for performance had come to feel too self-indulgent and the notion of art for art's sake had lost its appeal by the time I reached my mid-twenties. I had come to crave a depth of spirit as well as intimate connection, but I couldn't show up long enough to my own personal practice in order to hone my discipline. By the time I entered graduate school, I had isolated myself in such a way that I could count on one hand the amount of others with whom I shared frequent emotional intimacy with.
I refer to this time in my life as my own "blue period" - it was a great undoing, during which years of repressed emotion broke me open and I was swallowed whole by a suffocating anxiety, followed by a hollow depression. Here in San Diego, there were two things that truly saved me. The first was when I finally served myself by committing to my dire need for physical movement. You might find this hard to believe, but I can easily convince myself that I don't need to dance. I can also fool myself into believing that I don't need You, or touch, or contact, or community. Eventually, however, my suffering always brings me to my knees. Years ago, I came to a point in my life when a full day would pass and I'd realize that I hadn't even smiled or, I would look deep into my brown eyes in a looking glass and find nothing there but a deadened reflection. There was no sparkle and no twinkle, just a sadly apathetic glare. So, finally, after years of having judged and initially run away from the DanceJam community, I committed to showing up, weekly - to the dance, to community, and, most importantly, to my Self.
This was a small step in the right direction. My pain didn't disappear overnight but, with time and due diligence, it certainly abated. My other saving grace was the group of senior citizens who began showing up weekly to the meditation, exercise and dance class (aka, their weekly dose of "MEDs") that I offered, as a part of my graduate school practicum, at their HUD facility in Hillcrest. They took me in as one of their own and have continually bestowed me with their gentle love and fervent loyalty over the course of these past four years. For the rest of my life, I will be infinitely grateful for these others and for how positively they have affected my health and well-Being. In fact, I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for DanceJam (as well as our Dance Church Encinitas community) or my friends at Cathedral Arms.
Eventually, I found myself ready to take to the stage again. This time around, however, I felt more prepared to share from a place of deeper life experience - of having recently found myself on a brink. After finally earning an MFA, the elusive thread that tied my interdisciplinary practice - of dance, writing, and digital media - together finally began to vibrantly weave itself into a brilliant tapestry. Rediscovering my passion for ecology, I joined the local sustainability movement and began, as an artist, to address the questions of how we, as a people and a region, are going to endure in these times to come. "Celebrate Solstice Rain Dance" was my first attempt at intentionally drawing our collective awareness back to the "Culture" in Agriculture (a notion that local phenom, Julia Dashe, introduced me to). It was a winter evening in which we honored the dark, planted metaphorical seeds asking for precipitation for our parched region and raised money for a much-needed well at our county's most beloved local farm (and the now sadly defunct), La Milpa Organica.
A year later, I continued to cultivate our own local garden of Eden with the production of
"Desserts and Dancing," during which the amazing Santiago Orozco of Todo Mundo joined me onstage for some contact dance as well as a playful teasing of our assembled crowd. Santi began to strum the initial chords of "La Primavera" before storming out on my spoiled brat antics and leaving me alone, and vulnerable, on stage. In his absence, I swore at him and called the whole show off. Fortunately, one of my favorite dance partners was strategically located in the audience. He pulled me up to my irate feet and gracefully maneuvered my female form around the space, just as he always does. Eventually, Santi made a dashing return, striking up his band as the whole audience was cajoled to wildly dance to the hip-shaking rhythms of Todo Mundo.
I refer to this time in my life as my own "blue period" - it was a great undoing, during which years of repressed emotion broke me open and I was swallowed whole by a suffocating anxiety, followed by a hollow depression. Here in San Diego, there were two things that truly saved me. The first was when I finally served myself by committing to my dire need for physical movement. You might find this hard to believe, but I can easily convince myself that I don't need to dance. I can also fool myself into believing that I don't need You, or touch, or contact, or community. Eventually, however, my suffering always brings me to my knees. Years ago, I came to a point in my life when a full day would pass and I'd realize that I hadn't even smiled or, I would look deep into my brown eyes in a looking glass and find nothing there but a deadened reflection. There was no sparkle and no twinkle, just a sadly apathetic glare. So, finally, after years of having judged and initially run away from the DanceJam community, I committed to showing up, weekly - to the dance, to community, and, most importantly, to my Self.
This was a small step in the right direction. My pain didn't disappear overnight but, with time and due diligence, it certainly abated. My other saving grace was the group of senior citizens who began showing up weekly to the meditation, exercise and dance class (aka, their weekly dose of "MEDs") that I offered, as a part of my graduate school practicum, at their HUD facility in Hillcrest. They took me in as one of their own and have continually bestowed me with their gentle love and fervent loyalty over the course of these past four years. For the rest of my life, I will be infinitely grateful for these others and for how positively they have affected my health and well-Being. In fact, I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for DanceJam (as well as our Dance Church Encinitas community) or my friends at Cathedral Arms.
Eventually, I found myself ready to take to the stage again. This time around, however, I felt more prepared to share from a place of deeper life experience - of having recently found myself on a brink. After finally earning an MFA, the elusive thread that tied my interdisciplinary practice - of dance, writing, and digital media - together finally began to vibrantly weave itself into a brilliant tapestry. Rediscovering my passion for ecology, I joined the local sustainability movement and began, as an artist, to address the questions of how we, as a people and a region, are going to endure in these times to come. "Celebrate Solstice Rain Dance" was my first attempt at intentionally drawing our collective awareness back to the "Culture" in Agriculture (a notion that local phenom, Julia Dashe, introduced me to). It was a winter evening in which we honored the dark, planted metaphorical seeds asking for precipitation for our parched region and raised money for a much-needed well at our county's most beloved local farm (and the now sadly defunct), La Milpa Organica.
A year later, I continued to cultivate our own local garden of Eden with the production of
"Desserts and Dancing," during which the amazing Santiago Orozco of Todo Mundo joined me onstage for some contact dance as well as a playful teasing of our assembled crowd. Santi began to strum the initial chords of "La Primavera" before storming out on my spoiled brat antics and leaving me alone, and vulnerable, on stage. In his absence, I swore at him and called the whole show off. Fortunately, one of my favorite dance partners was strategically located in the audience. He pulled me up to my irate feet and gracefully maneuvered my female form around the space, just as he always does. Eventually, Santi made a dashing return, striking up his band as the whole audience was cajoled to wildly dance to the hip-shaking rhythms of Todo Mundo.
On Service, part I
"This is the final test of a gentleman:
his respect for those who can be of no possible service to him."
--William Lyon Phelps
his respect for those who can be of no possible service to him."
--William Lyon Phelps
Last week was the toughest time that I have energetically experienced since moving into the Hive four months ago. My energetic body struggled to find both the motivation and the inspiration to get up, get moving and GO! For this Queen Bee who loves to buzz, allowing myself to just Be - to listen to my BodyMind, which was calling for deep rest and to honor this request without guilt, shame or internal berating, was quite a feat. Fortunately, these days, I am trusting that this is all par for course and that whatever I am not doing will eventually be done as well as happen. I also enjoyed witnessing my emotional body want to entertain past patterns of verbally abusing myself for my "laziness" and "apathy." I tried to go there yet, for some reason, my SoulSpirit never quite believed what my mind was telling it. There was no emotional attachment to my physical exhaustion. It was purely a physical need that my BodyMind knew I must fulfill in order to be able to sustain my energy for whatever is to come.
Nonetheless, there was also something else at play. The realization that the first quarter of the year has come to pass - taking with it the dark, cold winter - and that, now, after the immense support of our beloved community has helped to nourish the initial soil of the Prosperity Hive, the real work begins. It is time to dive into spring while laboring in the lengthening sunlight hours as the days grow longer and as we tend to our communal garden with nothing more but the sweat on our backs and our tear stained cheeks. For too long now, I, personally, have relied on too many external sources to help drive my energetic current. From the dance floor to the "real world," I have spent have a lifetime finding it difficult to maintain and feed my own internal flame. And, last week, the realization finally dawned on me that now is the time to dig deep, find my infinite well of power within and to draw from it.
In the recent past, I have attended yoga classes during which the teacher has espoused upon an idea of service. In sweaty prostration, I have heard these learned mentors and practiced yogis preach about yoga as service. And I've so wanted to speak up and say, "Yes, and..." Yes, service must begin with the Self - for if we cannot first serve ourselves, then we cannot serve others. Serving ourselves is about feeding our spirits by answering the call of our highest good - only we know what that is (and we also know what it isn't). Showing up - to yoga class, to dance, to read a book, to open-hearted communication with a friend, to intentional eating, to this moment, now - is certainly a step. However, we must not forget that it is only the first step. True service is a continual offering of one's gifts and talents to the world, especially to those who can not be of any "service" to us.
Friday, March 25, 2011
When You Come
When you come to me,
unbidden,
beckoning me
to long ago rooms
where memories lie,
offering me as to a child, an attic,
gatherings of days too few,
baubles of stolen kisses,
trinkets of borrowed loves,
trunks of secret words,
I cry.
--Maya Angelou
unbidden,
beckoning me
to long ago rooms
where memories lie,
offering me as to a child, an attic,
gatherings of days too few,
baubles of stolen kisses,
trinkets of borrowed loves,
trunks of secret words,
I cry.
--Maya Angelou
Friday, March 18, 2011
In Preparation
Calling, Calling 1, 2, 3
Calling, calling, can you hear me?
A Super Moon emerges from my senses, and from this SoulSpirit
a distant cry comes
"A-woooooooo," she calls,
"A-woooooooooooot," he responds.
Tomorrow is today and the past is but a dream
as I dive into this spring equinox, into this 2011
when time no longer waits for the present to construct,
when the current construct of mass consumption and populace dissemination
melts and fades away into the long, dark, black night,
into the voluptuous ebbing and flowing, the rising and falling
of these rocking waves, 12' footers crashing overhead
breaking me open
breaking the Earth, swallowing it whole, swallowing us up in
one, cosmic beat,
this momentary joke that is tragically insane
and momentously blissful.
I weep.
Don't you see my tears?
Can't you hear
my call?
My call, call, calling out your name?
Can't you tell I suffer, I strive,
struggling to survive,
my will wilting in this dawn's new light,
in this continued era of mindless production
and cheap thrills produced on the fly in Tijuana
or San Marcos or anywhere
but here.
Can't you smell the pungent, fetid fragrance
of the death dying off?
Can't you feel my hot, spastic breath?
Can't you know that we are
we are
One.
Pen to page, nose to grindstone, hand to tools, love to Self, self to others,
an other,
this other,
separate, distinct yet same, same,
can't you see?
(BTW - Thanks for the best St. Paddy's Day ever, MS!)
Calling, calling, can you hear me?
A Super Moon emerges from my senses, and from this SoulSpirit
a distant cry comes
"A-woooooooo," she calls,
"A-woooooooooooot," he responds.
Tomorrow is today and the past is but a dream
as I dive into this spring equinox, into this 2011
when time no longer waits for the present to construct,
when the current construct of mass consumption and populace dissemination
melts and fades away into the long, dark, black night,
into the voluptuous ebbing and flowing, the rising and falling
of these rocking waves, 12' footers crashing overhead
breaking me open
breaking the Earth, swallowing it whole, swallowing us up in
one, cosmic beat,
this momentary joke that is tragically insane
and momentously blissful.
I weep.
Don't you see my tears?
Can't you hear
my call?
My call, call, calling out your name?
Can't you tell I suffer, I strive,
struggling to survive,
my will wilting in this dawn's new light,
in this continued era of mindless production
and cheap thrills produced on the fly in Tijuana
or San Marcos or anywhere
but here.
Can't you smell the pungent, fetid fragrance
of the death dying off?
Can't you feel my hot, spastic breath?
Can't you know that we are
we are
One.
Pen to page, nose to grindstone, hand to tools, love to Self, self to others,
an other,
this other,
separate, distinct yet same, same,
can't you see?
(BTW - Thanks for the best St. Paddy's Day ever, MS!)
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Notes from the DanceFloor, Take I
"How is the laughter in your life?" she inquires,
after a week's worth of turbulence, including an explosive release,
an outpouring of retracted steam from a deep geyser of boiling magma.
(Primal Fluidity)
Today, just now, as I was stretching and oozing into the honey-colored, wood floor below my bones, this tissue, these cells,
I found my BodyMind pulled into a sweet reverie, inspired by the delicious moments of Love that have also flowed, right along with the red, hot temper and steaming passion,
over the just now past.
(primal fluidity)
I then allowed my Self to be taken out of this moment, now, and onto a ride of
"What if's?" and "Maybes..."
There in following a delectable experience of
compete human contradiction
that I enjoyed with no one but me
as deep, guttural, belly laughter erupted from the black pits of my SoulSpirit.
Primal Fluidity
YES YES YES!
after a week's worth of turbulence, including an explosive release,
an outpouring of retracted steam from a deep geyser of boiling magma.
(Primal Fluidity)
Today, just now, as I was stretching and oozing into the honey-colored, wood floor below my bones, this tissue, these cells,
I found my BodyMind pulled into a sweet reverie, inspired by the delicious moments of Love that have also flowed, right along with the red, hot temper and steaming passion,
over the just now past.
(primal fluidity)
I then allowed my Self to be taken out of this moment, now, and onto a ride of
"What if's?" and "Maybes..."
There in following a delectable experience of
compete human contradiction
that I enjoyed with no one but me
as deep, guttural, belly laughter erupted from the black pits of my SoulSpirit.
Primal Fluidity
YES YES YES!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Bits N' Pieces (or, Notes from a Letter to a Friend)
I have spent most of my life abusing myself in a myriad of ways, which is pretty typical for survivors. I was abused as a child, therefore my cellular patterning thinks this is "normal" and that I even deserve such a thing. My self abuse is most obvious physically - I chew off my fingertips. Our fingers allow us to manipulate tools and handcraft our lives. I consume my ability to do so - to grab hold of my own reality and to construct it as I deem fit - and this has been a source of great suffering for too long now. I can also abuse myself with food. I shared w/ you on Sunday how I was recently emotionally eating again. This was how I gained weight in college - feeling bad, undeserving, scared, insecure and stuffing myself with heavy foods to physically mimic my emotional body.
I abuse myself by not showing up - to gymnastics, to dance, to friends, to work, to life. Again, there is this cellular patterning that is a "cyclo vicioso" (as Mario called it - a vicious circle). I perpetuate poor behaviors because I don't honor that I deserve to experience comfort and ease in most moments, especially in relations w/ others. So, I simply recreate the discomfort and dis-ease, over and over again.
The truth is, I have never really seen or heard my own self. For most of my life, my self-esteem has been barely there (even though my ego is huge) - which is part of this whole vicious circle. And, I have always sought validation in others' eyes. I thank goddess, now, everyday, for our dance community because it has given me so much insight into the true nature of my Being - which IS deserving, and beautiful, and giving, and imperfect, and lovely...
I now recognize that I can not expect others to respect me if I do not respect myself, first and foremost. Thus, I can forgive.. (I'm getting to it w/ some. W/ others, like my mother, it comes easier.) Nonetheless, all I have ever done is show up and offer to connect because, why else are we here? Yet, others judge me - not because what I do is wrong, but because I take a risk, continually. What risk is any of us taking by remaining in our own little bubbles?!? Time after time again, I have been openly rejected - in public, on the dance floor and in private. Heck, Suzie shared that she still judges me! And, guess what? I still don't judge her. I still keep offering - because this is LOVE & Compassion. Offering offering offering even when one is being consistently rejected and judged.
Nonetheless, I am done with accepting this behavior as though it is okay - because I deserve to speak up for myself. And I am tired of others trying to tell me that I need to work on x, y or z. Everyday, I awake grateful and happy, regardless of what came before. I sit, meditate, walk, serve, reflect, write, bow down in humility, maintain a clean space because cleaning is service. I smile, am happy, talk to strangers, spend time outside, sit in trees, admire nature's beauty and buy coffee. I give love to so many others - virtually via facebook, and in person, face to face, in real time. I get to know local baristas and I acknowledge my neighbors - even those who call these streets of San Diego home - by talking with them and sharing EVERY SINGLE DAY. Yes, I make mistakes. Yes, I am not perfect. Yes, I can work on many elements of being. Still, others point fingers at me, all too often, even as they move through the world exuding more of a "violent" buzz than I do. My "violence" is just more apparent because it is palpably felt when I share it. And, I am not afraid to expose it - it is something I openly share, like my love, because it makes me human. Deeply, irrevocably human.
The light and the shadow are one and the same. And, I am pure - I have simply been conditioned to behave and act otherwise. However, I also accept that this lifetime now is all about me undoing my karmic past lives. It is about me realinging this deep celluar patterning which goes beyond my parents and our culture, it is beyond my ancestral lineage, as it lays in our shared human DNA. "Not good enough," or so goes the refrain. "You are not good enough," it has harped throughout my BodyMind for eternity. Yes, now is the time for me, and for all of us, to get it "right" - to no longer choose the suffering and to, instead, honor that I deserve, WE DESERVE, all that I/we dream. Which for me, personally, has only and ever been LOVE (love love love love lovelovelovelovelove).
I deserve, I deserve, I deserve. And, so do you. We all deserve: to live in comfort and ease in most moments; to love; to experience; to Be.
So, finally, I SEE ME.
And, in the end, this is all that matters.
I abuse myself by not showing up - to gymnastics, to dance, to friends, to work, to life. Again, there is this cellular patterning that is a "cyclo vicioso" (as Mario called it - a vicious circle). I perpetuate poor behaviors because I don't honor that I deserve to experience comfort and ease in most moments, especially in relations w/ others. So, I simply recreate the discomfort and dis-ease, over and over again.
The truth is, I have never really seen or heard my own self. For most of my life, my self-esteem has been barely there (even though my ego is huge) - which is part of this whole vicious circle. And, I have always sought validation in others' eyes. I thank goddess, now, everyday, for our dance community because it has given me so much insight into the true nature of my Being - which IS deserving, and beautiful, and giving, and imperfect, and lovely...
I now recognize that I can not expect others to respect me if I do not respect myself, first and foremost. Thus, I can forgive.. (I'm getting to it w/ some. W/ others, like my mother, it comes easier.) Nonetheless, all I have ever done is show up and offer to connect because, why else are we here? Yet, others judge me - not because what I do is wrong, but because I take a risk, continually. What risk is any of us taking by remaining in our own little bubbles?!? Time after time again, I have been openly rejected - in public, on the dance floor and in private. Heck, Suzie shared that she still judges me! And, guess what? I still don't judge her. I still keep offering - because this is LOVE & Compassion. Offering offering offering even when one is being consistently rejected and judged.
Nonetheless, I am done with accepting this behavior as though it is okay - because I deserve to speak up for myself. And I am tired of others trying to tell me that I need to work on x, y or z. Everyday, I awake grateful and happy, regardless of what came before. I sit, meditate, walk, serve, reflect, write, bow down in humility, maintain a clean space because cleaning is service. I smile, am happy, talk to strangers, spend time outside, sit in trees, admire nature's beauty and buy coffee. I give love to so many others - virtually via facebook, and in person, face to face, in real time. I get to know local baristas and I acknowledge my neighbors - even those who call these streets of San Diego home - by talking with them and sharing EVERY SINGLE DAY. Yes, I make mistakes. Yes, I am not perfect. Yes, I can work on many elements of being. Still, others point fingers at me, all too often, even as they move through the world exuding more of a "violent" buzz than I do. My "violence" is just more apparent because it is palpably felt when I share it. And, I am not afraid to expose it - it is something I openly share, like my love, because it makes me human. Deeply, irrevocably human.
The light and the shadow are one and the same. And, I am pure - I have simply been conditioned to behave and act otherwise. However, I also accept that this lifetime now is all about me undoing my karmic past lives. It is about me realinging this deep celluar patterning which goes beyond my parents and our culture, it is beyond my ancestral lineage, as it lays in our shared human DNA. "Not good enough," or so goes the refrain. "You are not good enough," it has harped throughout my BodyMind for eternity. Yes, now is the time for me, and for all of us, to get it "right" - to no longer choose the suffering and to, instead, honor that I deserve, WE DESERVE, all that I/we dream. Which for me, personally, has only and ever been LOVE (love love love love lovelovelovelovelove).
I deserve, I deserve, I deserve. And, so do you. We all deserve: to live in comfort and ease in most moments; to love; to experience; to Be.
So, finally, I SEE ME.
And, in the end, this is all that matters.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. ~Rumi
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
On Radha
We strolled along an overcast Sunday shore, laughing in feminine giddiness at the sheer ridiculousness of this life. Suzie spoke of a friend's tale of becoming recently engaged to the exotic Spaniard that she had just moved onto a small island with.
"She realized that if she wanted to meet her Krishna, she had to become Radha," Suzie shared.
I paused in a moment of reflection.
"So, how does one become Radha?" I inquired.
"Well, for starters, you can't dress like that!" Suzie chastised.
Ouch.
It was true, though - as I had, just minutes earlier, joked about how the three of us together looked like a group of "Bohemian Hobos."
(What else would you expect to find in Encinitas? ; )
"And, you can definitely not wear those shoes!" Suzie stated emphatically, as an afterthought.
"Really?" I innocently looked down at my black and white checkered Vans.
"You mean, it still doesn't matter how a person moves through this world?
You mean, even in a "spiritual" end, it still boils down to how a female presents her beauty?"
Double Ouch.
It's not that I am intentionally trying to hide or mask my beauty.
Yes, I enjoy wearing the heels and the dresses as well as the other obvious markers of my
femininity - of my separateness from that which is male, of my otherness from that which is you.
Yes, and...
I also enjoy just Be-ing.
Because with what and how I choose to cover and decorate my body can be both sacred and profane; reverence and irrelevant; and it can also simply be a forced mandate.
Radha and Krishna are not separate.
They are one and the same - they cannot exist without each other.
The Divine Feminine Within knows when to attract, receive and give birth using all of her creative wiles, just as the Divine Masculine Within knows when to purposefully act with swift, pin-pointed focus.
A Divine ever-unfolding dance - over and over again, they tumble.
Inside, first.
Then, without.
In, out, in out, out in -
humananimals copulating.
Like our hearts, these lungs, the breath, the beat, One collective pulse.
A cosmic shift of the Universe itself.
"She realized that if she wanted to meet her Krishna, she had to become Radha," Suzie shared.
I paused in a moment of reflection.
"So, how does one become Radha?" I inquired.
"Well, for starters, you can't dress like that!" Suzie chastised.
Ouch.
It was true, though - as I had, just minutes earlier, joked about how the three of us together looked like a group of "Bohemian Hobos."
(What else would you expect to find in Encinitas? ; )
"And, you can definitely not wear those shoes!" Suzie stated emphatically, as an afterthought.
"Really?" I innocently looked down at my black and white checkered Vans.
"You mean, it still doesn't matter how a person moves through this world?
You mean, even in a "spiritual" end, it still boils down to how a female presents her beauty?"
Double Ouch.
It's not that I am intentionally trying to hide or mask my beauty.
Yes, I enjoy wearing the heels and the dresses as well as the other obvious markers of my
femininity - of my separateness from that which is male, of my otherness from that which is you.
Yes, and...
I also enjoy just Be-ing.
Because with what and how I choose to cover and decorate my body can be both sacred and profane; reverence and irrelevant; and it can also simply be a forced mandate.
Radha and Krishna are not separate.
They are one and the same - they cannot exist without each other.
The Divine Feminine Within knows when to attract, receive and give birth using all of her creative wiles, just as the Divine Masculine Within knows when to purposefully act with swift, pin-pointed focus.
A Divine ever-unfolding dance - over and over again, they tumble.
Inside, first.
Then, without.
In, out, in out, out in -
humananimals copulating.
Like our hearts, these lungs, the breath, the beat, One collective pulse.
A cosmic shift of the Universe itself.
This Is For YOU...(F.M. and ALL of You)
Over the course of the past year, it has been you who has kept my fingers flying across the keyboard.
If it weren't for you telling me how my typed words affect you, or to "keep on writing," then I would quickly grow tired and bored of flinging my virtual self out and onto this superhighway.
Fortunately, a lot of the time, I do find myself in "real life" talking with others about ideas that I espouse upon on this here screen. Other times, you and I have quick interactions at the end of my blogposts that let me know you're out here. Then, there are the moments that transpire in personal time and space that are just too delectable to be quickly tossed off with a flip of the page, or a pressing of a button. Moments ago, I experienced one of those. I hope you will receive my sharing it with others positively and as a model for our collective learning lessons...
(A letter just pulled from my email inbox):
(And, my letter in response):
Dearest Beloved,
Thank you for your typed words. Please know that I do not know anything, either. However, my BodyMind has always told me that it is precisely this thought that is one of the most secure launching platforms for diving deeper into awareness and consciousness.
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
anything.
It is my belief that we can not serve the land, let alone others, until we can first serve ourselves.
This is very hard terrain and, personally, I am uncomfortably navigating its bumpy path myself.
Yes, in the past, you and I have both behaved inappropriately.
Yes, in the past, we have made poor decisions
as well as bad choices, and these have led to some very harsh consequences.
And, yes, in the future, we are going to again make mistakes and trespass against others.
Nonetheless, behavior does not make the person.
We steal, we lie, we act like jerks, we cry, we scream, we shout, we make love, we wince, we honor, we help, we rejoice ~ All One,
all minute eco-systems comprising a spiraling, shifting continuum.
We are not as we do.
We are simply human beings experiencing
a journey.
If we can recognize this, then we can begin to see how
choice plays an active & integral role in our lives.
How will we choose to cultivate this Garden of Eden that we all dream of?
First of all, what is it that we want to grow in this garden?
As a woman, I identify with David Deida's idea
that the Divine Creative Feminine seeks LOVE as its guiding force.
Yes, I desire to reap LOVE - love for others, love for Earth, love for Self, lovelovelove.
In order to do this, however, I must then SOW LOVE first.
So, how do I do this?
With each breath, how can I love? With each thought? With each moment?
I don't know.
Today, when my internal alarm clock went off at 5am and I was
awoken from a dream in which my repressed emotion was rearing its ugly, violent head,
I recognized the immediate hypocrisy and blatant contradiction.
"Who am I to sit in meditation, to chant and offer prayer when I am this imperfect,
angry human?" is how a deeply-embedded cellular impulse wanted to respond.
(Actually, who am I not to?)
And, somehow, even though sitting through the 108 chants of calling in the Divine Wisdom of
the Masculine to help balance and center me was difficult and I still wasn't quite present throughout the entire time period,
I smiled.
I allowed and offered for a soft, gentle tilt of my face in an upwards direction.
"This is it!" my Soul Spirit sang
as it celebrated and vibrated!
You are Perfect as You Are, My Dear Beloved.
You are Lovable and Beautiful and Strong and Completely Imperfect -
which makes you YOU.
The World Needs You.
We Need You.
Lovelovelove
US !
Love You First,
Love You,
Love love love.
Yes, we can.
If it weren't for you telling me how my typed words affect you, or to "keep on writing," then I would quickly grow tired and bored of flinging my virtual self out and onto this superhighway.
Fortunately, a lot of the time, I do find myself in "real life" talking with others about ideas that I espouse upon on this here screen. Other times, you and I have quick interactions at the end of my blogposts that let me know you're out here. Then, there are the moments that transpire in personal time and space that are just too delectable to be quickly tossed off with a flip of the page, or a pressing of a button. Moments ago, I experienced one of those. I hope you will receive my sharing it with others positively and as a model for our collective learning lessons...
(A letter just pulled from my email inbox):
"It’s only a matter of time before things will start to get really bad. I’m already an addict, a convict, and a jerk, and it does not feel good. A Felony Offense and stealing from liquor stores is next.
The Earth needs us - it screams for our engagement and, thus, I must serve it.
If I'm not going to serve it then who will?
.......I don’t know anything."
(And, my letter in response):
Dearest Beloved,
Thank you for your typed words. Please know that I do not know anything, either. However, my BodyMind has always told me that it is precisely this thought that is one of the most secure launching platforms for diving deeper into awareness and consciousness.
I don't know
I don't know
I don't know
anything.
It is my belief that we can not serve the land, let alone others, until we can first serve ourselves.
This is very hard terrain and, personally, I am uncomfortably navigating its bumpy path myself.
Yes, in the past, you and I have both behaved inappropriately.
Yes, in the past, we have made poor decisions
as well as bad choices, and these have led to some very harsh consequences.
And, yes, in the future, we are going to again make mistakes and trespass against others.
Nonetheless, behavior does not make the person.
We steal, we lie, we act like jerks, we cry, we scream, we shout, we make love, we wince, we honor, we help, we rejoice ~ All One,
all minute eco-systems comprising a spiraling, shifting continuum.
We are not as we do.
We are simply human beings experiencing
a journey.
If we can recognize this, then we can begin to see how
choice plays an active & integral role in our lives.
How will we choose to cultivate this Garden of Eden that we all dream of?
First of all, what is it that we want to grow in this garden?
As a woman, I identify with David Deida's idea
that the Divine Creative Feminine seeks LOVE as its guiding force.
Yes, I desire to reap LOVE - love for others, love for Earth, love for Self, lovelovelove.
In order to do this, however, I must then SOW LOVE first.
So, how do I do this?
With each breath, how can I love? With each thought? With each moment?
I don't know.
Today, when my internal alarm clock went off at 5am and I was
awoken from a dream in which my repressed emotion was rearing its ugly, violent head,
I recognized the immediate hypocrisy and blatant contradiction.
"Who am I to sit in meditation, to chant and offer prayer when I am this imperfect,
angry human?" is how a deeply-embedded cellular impulse wanted to respond.
(Actually, who am I not to?)
And, somehow, even though sitting through the 108 chants of calling in the Divine Wisdom of
the Masculine to help balance and center me was difficult and I still wasn't quite present throughout the entire time period,
I smiled.
I allowed and offered for a soft, gentle tilt of my face in an upwards direction.
"This is it!" my Soul Spirit sang
as it celebrated and vibrated!
You are Perfect as You Are, My Dear Beloved.
You are Lovable and Beautiful and Strong and Completely Imperfect -
which makes you YOU.
The World Needs You.
We Need You.
Lovelovelove
US !
Love You First,
Love You,
Love love love.
Yes, we can.
This is How YOU Spell LOCAL...
I grew up wandering this coastal desert terrain,
forty miles north of downtown San Diego,
at the cross section of four corners -
Vista, Oceanside, Carlsbad and, even, San Marcos.
"Calavera" it has been called, for millenium,
by native peoples who envisioned a skull where
a 22-million-year-old volcanic plug sits.
As a child, I saw the effects of a people living on this land -
"illegally." Intuitively, I knew where these people came from,
where they went to during the day and why.
In my solitude, I understood this to be both
nature and nurture.
I grew up following my sister's lead,
tumbling to my heart's delight at the
local re-Creation Center, participating in
4-H, visiting the wildlife refuge in Dr. Farner's backyard,
and skipping along a dusk-lit, Main Street
where local farmer's drove
freshly-picked strawberries, oranges, avocadoes and more
down from their nearby agricultural fields.
I grew up sashaying and marching down these same city streets,
as my elementary-school boyfriends would throw popping fireworks
at my cartwheeling feet. I grew up surrounded by people
of all beliefs and dogmas, of all faiths, sizes, shapes, colors and cultures.
I grew up, here,
now.
Tumbling in ecstasy, over and over again, I joyfully navigated this
San Diego.
And, this, my friends, is how you spell LOCAL.
forty miles north of downtown San Diego,
at the cross section of four corners -
Vista, Oceanside, Carlsbad and, even, San Marcos.
"Calavera" it has been called, for millenium,
by native peoples who envisioned a skull where
a 22-million-year-old volcanic plug sits.
As a child, I saw the effects of a people living on this land -
"illegally." Intuitively, I knew where these people came from,
where they went to during the day and why.
In my solitude, I understood this to be both
nature and nurture.
I grew up following my sister's lead,
tumbling to my heart's delight at the
local re-Creation Center, participating in
4-H, visiting the wildlife refuge in Dr. Farner's backyard,
and skipping along a dusk-lit, Main Street
where local farmer's drove
freshly-picked strawberries, oranges, avocadoes and more
down from their nearby agricultural fields.
I grew up sashaying and marching down these same city streets,
as my elementary-school boyfriends would throw popping fireworks
at my cartwheeling feet. I grew up surrounded by people
of all beliefs and dogmas, of all faiths, sizes, shapes, colors and cultures.
I grew up, here,
now.
Tumbling in ecstasy, over and over again, I joyfully navigated this
San Diego.
And, this, my friends, is how you spell LOCAL.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Snapshots from LIFE
He spoke of 'timing, tone and frequency'
in regards to others' receiving my messages -
especially those that critically construct.
"Even if it's sweet as honey it can still be poured in
too miserably frequently," he said.
"Honey~inside of the ears?" I think.
...........................................................
Yes, honey on the tongue.
Yes, honey sticky to the touch.
Yes, honey sight - amber, crystalline visions.
And, yes, honey sweet to the ears.
This is for you, (GM).
"O Beloved,
Look around,
You are Not
Some Local Appearance
You are the Bright, Blue sky,
the Wine, Dark Waters,
A Vast Ocean!
The Drowning Place of
a
thousand
little
I's."
---Our most beloved,
Rumi
in regards to others' receiving my messages -
especially those that critically construct.
"Even if it's sweet as honey it can still be poured in
too miserably frequently," he said.
"Honey~inside of the ears?" I think.
...........................................................
Yes, honey on the tongue.
Yes, honey sticky to the touch.
Yes, honey sight - amber, crystalline visions.
And, yes, honey sweet to the ears.
This is for you, (GM).
"O Beloved,
Look around,
You are Not
Some Local Appearance
You are the Bright, Blue sky,
the Wine, Dark Waters,
A Vast Ocean!
The Drowning Place of
a
thousand
little
I's."
---Our most beloved,
Rumi
Thursday, March 3, 2011
"In Between a Rock & a Hard Spot"
What an age-old cliche that is.
What does it mean, exactly ~ especially when one is learning about all of the amazing, healing properties of rocks?
I dunno...
I never know.
Even though, I pretend I do - a lot.
My pretense, however, is not to be mistaken for inauthenticity.
For one of my truths is that
My Soul is Timeless AND
My Spirit is Ten Years Old.
Honestly, I move through the world in wide-eyed wonder,
trying everything on that I physically can while enthusiastically
(and, sometimes, obnoxiously, I am sure)
Speaking, Singing, Talking, Interacting, Breathing, Feeling and Experiencing
that I belong, I Am and I Do, that my BodyMind knows simultaneously everything and nothing
and that I Can Do It ALL.
Why Not?
It feels good and I grew tired of holding myself back - in fact, I grew sick by censoring my
desire to simply express and Be.
For years, I always bristled at my mother's criticisms that I was "naive."
I couldn't receive her teaching me this because of how I perceived she wrapped it and presented it to me. Now, I get it - I am quite oblivious to others' intentions. Because I just want to revel in my place of innocence and joy. I don't want to care whether or not you like me, whether or not you'll "take my ideas," or whether or not you'll misconstrue my intentions. Which does happen a lot - more than I like because in my exuberance and "Just Do It" philosophy, I make lots of mistakes. I hurt others, although I don't intend to, and I get hurt. Ouch. It's painful. Yet, isn't this par for course?
Can we really live our lives without the pain of turbulence and the discomfort of turmoil?
No, we can't.
And we can no longer afford to believe otherwise, for this an illusion not grounded in reality.
Mountains form by continental plates shifting and coliding. For millennium, they have made a slow, steady march towards each other. Eventually, when the timing and circumstance is just as it should be, they began to press into one another, to push and push and pushpushpush.
Friction builds and heat ensues.
Violent transformation takes place.
After the shock of initial eruption wears off and once the Earth has stopped shaking we look
and see:
rivers, canyons and ravines; creeks, hillsides and forests; prairie, plateau and deserts.
We experience the air that we breathe, rushing in, filling our lungs.
An illuminated orb rises over this eastern horizon and it also mimics this same action - nuclear fusion, it is called.
All One.
And all a consequence of natural movement, arrhythmic harmony and vibrational frequency rubbing up against each other..
timeless, eternal, present, now. Here.
What does it mean, exactly ~ especially when one is learning about all of the amazing, healing properties of rocks?
I dunno...
I never know.
Even though, I pretend I do - a lot.
My pretense, however, is not to be mistaken for inauthenticity.
For one of my truths is that
My Soul is Timeless AND
My Spirit is Ten Years Old.
Honestly, I move through the world in wide-eyed wonder,
trying everything on that I physically can while enthusiastically
(and, sometimes, obnoxiously, I am sure)
Speaking, Singing, Talking, Interacting, Breathing, Feeling and Experiencing
that I belong, I Am and I Do, that my BodyMind knows simultaneously everything and nothing
and that I Can Do It ALL.
Why Not?
It feels good and I grew tired of holding myself back - in fact, I grew sick by censoring my
desire to simply express and Be.
For years, I always bristled at my mother's criticisms that I was "naive."
I couldn't receive her teaching me this because of how I perceived she wrapped it and presented it to me. Now, I get it - I am quite oblivious to others' intentions. Because I just want to revel in my place of innocence and joy. I don't want to care whether or not you like me, whether or not you'll "take my ideas," or whether or not you'll misconstrue my intentions. Which does happen a lot - more than I like because in my exuberance and "Just Do It" philosophy, I make lots of mistakes. I hurt others, although I don't intend to, and I get hurt. Ouch. It's painful. Yet, isn't this par for course?
Can we really live our lives without the pain of turbulence and the discomfort of turmoil?
No, we can't.
And we can no longer afford to believe otherwise, for this an illusion not grounded in reality.
Mountains form by continental plates shifting and coliding. For millennium, they have made a slow, steady march towards each other. Eventually, when the timing and circumstance is just as it should be, they began to press into one another, to push and push and pushpushpush.
Friction builds and heat ensues.
Violent transformation takes place.
After the shock of initial eruption wears off and once the Earth has stopped shaking we look
and see:
rivers, canyons and ravines; creeks, hillsides and forests; prairie, plateau and deserts.
We experience the air that we breathe, rushing in, filling our lungs.
An illuminated orb rises over this eastern horizon and it also mimics this same action - nuclear fusion, it is called.
All One.
And all a consequence of natural movement, arrhythmic harmony and vibrational frequency rubbing up against each other..
timeless, eternal, present, now. Here.
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