Token (white woman)

I saw a blogpost by an early-twenty something year-old white boy who chose to buck convention of doing the "good" or "right" thing (of getting an education, a job, then married, with kids, etc.) and instead chose to listen to his heart.  Naturally, this natural rhythm took him around the world and back.  Along the way he wrote his first book and now is experiencing some minor success for it.  Recently, he received some constructive feedback about how lucky he is to bee of a privileged class that allows him to enjoy such a life of such luxury.  He responded with a Facebook post about how "Success isn't Racist."  Hmmmm...

Since I was twenty, I have immensely enjoyed the privilege of placing myself in a position of beeing a minority.  This first happened when I took advantage of the American credit system and hopped aboard a Korean Air flight headed to Bangkok.  On that plane, I looked around me and, for the first time ever in my life, I was different in skin color than everyone else. 

That year, I was headed even farther east than Thailand.  I was metaphorically thumbing my way to Sri Lanka, where my sister was stationed as a Peace Corps Volunteer.  At Sunny Beach, a popular tourist beach destination on the southern point of that tear-drop shaped island that lay just beelow India, I noticed how the locals admonished their darker skinned peers with adjectives like "Blackie."  Apparently, darker shades of brown were not viewed positively amongst these brown skinned people.  I was twenty years old and it was clear that something was not right in the world.

In South Africa, I strolled along the friendly streets of Zimbabwe as a 'murungu' (white woman).  The single men there would spy me from a distance and quickly bestow me with their affection.  "I love you," they would coo, hoping against all odds that I would bee their ticket out of an impoverished country and into a life with greater opportunity to experience the travel, education and gourmet, organic food that has been the epitome of my American spending habits.

After five weeks spent enjoying the Zimbabwean culture and people, my best friend - who, at the time, was studying abroad at the university there - accompanied me to the bus stop so that I could head to South Africa in order to board a plane headed for the European continent.  As the bus approached, a nebulous group of inter-generational Zimbabweans began shoving and jockeying to board the bus.  I was so overwhelmed by the absolute lack of political niceness that I simply stood away from the crowd, waiting for everyone to find their seats so that I wouldn't have to push anyone out of my way.  Instead, however, the bus driver called out for the "white woman" (me) to get on the bus before everyone else did.  Embarrassed for beeing singled out, I grudgingly did what I was told.

When I was a girl, I loved Cabbage Patch Kids.  My sister and I both had been gifted homemade Cabbage Patch Kids by a family friend who had sewn them her self.  Each of our dolls kind of looked like each of us, with creamy, olive skin and dark features.  Eventually, my mother also bought me two real Cabbage Patch kids.  My first doll had blond hair, and a white, plastic face.  My second doll was a bald-headed, white-plastic faced boy 'Preemie.'  I loved them all, but something was missing.  "I want a black Cabbage Patch kid," I told my mom soon after.  Fortunately, she has never questioned my so-called "off-beat" desires.

And, just yesterday, I read an article about how one of Angie Jolie's (whom I have just adored for years now) white daughters was photographed carrying around a black doll.  Here's what the article had to say about experiments with young children and dolls:

"Psychologists Kenneth and Mamie Clark conducted experiments with black children, who were asked questions regarding which doll was bad or ugly and given an option between a black doll and white doll.  Most children associated positive qualities with the white doll, and 63 percent preferred playing with the white doll, leading the Clarks to conclude that black children "indicate a clear-cut preference for white and some of them evidence emotional conflict when requested to indicate a color preference.  It is clear that the Negro child, by the age of 5, is aware of the fact that to be colored in contemporary American society is a mark of inferior status.  A child accepts as early as 6, 7 or 8 the negative stereotypes about his own group."

The article went on to say,

"Six decades later the experiment was revisited.  When 19 black children, ranging from age 5 to 9, were asked which doll was nice, according to Good Morning America, "Sixty years ago, 56 percent of the children chose the white doll. The majority of our kids chose black or both and 32 percent chose the white doll," an improvement, or so it seemed.  But according to those administering the experiment, some of the black girls still struggled to see positive qualities in the black dolls.  "Second-grader Jamya Atkins, 7, picked the white doll as soon as she sat down and before the questions began.  She said the white doll was shiny and the black doll was frowning."

In conclusion, the articles states:
"When asked about Jolie's daughter playing with a black doll and whether it is culturally significant, Jeff Gardere, a psychologist who has treated children, said that black children playing with white dolls can have a negative impact on their self-esteem, but when it comes to white children playing with black dolls, "I think that's an amazing thing, because it has an opposite effect." He explained that "white is still considered to be a preferential color and preferential status in our society, so to put a white doll with a black child will have a negative impact for most black children but to put a black doll for a white child might make that white child more sympathetic to or more open to having a black person in their lives and loving and respecting black people."

(Read more: http://host.madison.com/news/opinion/column/keli-goff-why-it-matters-that-angelina-jolie-s-white/article_9c912970-b058-5531-afaf-656725a0412c.html#ixzz2m0OIigzO)

HERE'S TO PUTTING DOLLS OF ALL COLORS, BODY TYPES, AGES AND ABILITIES INTO OUR CHILDREN'S HANDS.

 

Luxurious Privilege (aka Thanks~Giving)

SHAKTI

It's the day before Thanksgiving, and we awoke to you taking photographs of me naked in your bed.
Milky curves, white breasts and round hips spilling over soft, down blankets built up around me.  We weren't posing; we were merely capturing the intimacy as it hangs, thick and sweet, between us.  

Your photos documenting my curves along with a myriad of looks, including lines on my face like that of a haggard, old lady.  I irregularly whine at how "unattractive" I am in so many of these captured moments, for one of my truths is that I am just as vain as I have been raised to bee.   Still, you softly prod my raw vulnerability along.  "They are all within you," you say, in response to my multi-dimensionality that looks nothing like the glossy, two-dimensional images that assault my daily gaze, tricking me into beliefs of a sterile and flat feminine beauty.  

It's not easy to always swallow my true humanity - to compassionately allow for this "darkness" within me that has been demonized for far too long now.  It's called Earth.  Sometimes, it bites and it stings.  Other times, it erupts and it spews.  Mainly, though, it just gives.  Our only task is to merely surrender to its offering. 

I surrendered into the magic of a Tuesday spent enjoying jovial laughter as I drove "Miss Daisy" (or, er, my mother) to a downtown courthouse.  Enjoying my solitude, I strolled along the Embarcadero, where Green Peace's water craft, the Rainbow Warrior, was in port all the way from Amsterdam, before heeding my body's desire for protein.  Heading up that Golden Hill, I walked into one of my many old jaunts - that volcanic cafe where "you" frequently are. 

I felt nervous energy at the prospect of seeing you, not because I cared to see you - I feel "complete" having recently shared what I wanted to say ("You are a cock tease who needs to have the devil fucked out of him!" I texted after your random wondering of where I am now) - but beecuase I feared what you would think about seeing me.  ("Is she stalking me?" etc.)  Yet, all I can ever know and trust are my own intentions, thus I will not let insecurities or fear dictate my forward momentum.  Naturally, however, there you are - standing right outside - and, there I go, getting in line right beehind your girlfriend.  Ha!  The Universe's comedic antics just keep on coming!  And, all I can do is smile and enjoy ~ surrender to what is. 

At the park, I climb into the welcoming embrace of Grandma.  It's been too long since I've sat up in her thick branches.  Another "you" joins me there and together we just bee ~ like the brother and sister that we are.  Your youth - ten years my junior - dances before my eyes.  We still don't know "why" we've been brought together, yet we remain committed to a vision of a much greater purpose than our little, human eyes can fathom.  Only time will tell.

Returning "home" to my sweetest you is quickly beecoming a welcomed habit.  After months spent of our fucking the life back into you, your internal fire is rising.  I share with you a heart-thought that has been steadily building in my body-mind about integrating the moon cycle into my teachings in order for men and women to once again gently flow through their daily lives.  

Next, we are off to collectively meet and plan, build and organize.  On the table between us, we place three small piles - a financial pittance for months of diligent work.  Gratefully, we receive, even as I also taste Life's comic farce once more - if this is all a game, of rolling the dice, collecting and spending the green bills, and moving ahead, step by step, then I am grown tired of playing in the minor leagues. 

Sweet Sistar, you invite me into your Sacred Space to partake of some green medicine.  Nervously, I acquiesce (for it's been months and, in the past, I have easily fallen into abusing, in lieu of LOVING, Mary Jane), then we all depart to a night of celebrating the dark at our regular dance studio during our regular meeting time.  I take to the floor and the walls and blocks, impediments and dams that keep me from fully surrendering on the dance floor of LIFE have mystically melted.  I melt into your arms, and yours, and yours, and you hold me, and lift me.  You dazzle me, and love me.  I surrender and I come to - to push and guide us all into a deeper state of awareness and bee-ing.  Sometimes, it's soft and gentle, other times it can feel like a rude cracking.  Waking up is not always comfortable terrain.

Sweat laden and exhausted, we return home to experience our first "fight."  Who's to say what it is about, except for energy moving through?  You say that you've seen a different me on this night (a vixen, perhaps) and She is not backing down when you're at a loss for understanding Her.  "I don't know if I can accept you," you say.  And, I understand - I know these feelings well.  So many times I wonder if I can just breathe into my discomfort of wanting something else in order to just accept what is.   So, I don't try to convince you otherwise.  I just let you bee where you are.  "I want you to thrive," I say, "with or without me."

Miraculously, however, with each adventure into as of yet unexplored emotional terrain, our sex life also mirrors this plunge into new depths.  On the dance floor earlier, I also noticed how my brothers were helping me to invert my orgasm with a full release of my spine.  And, what I know is that

KALIYANTRA (click for link)

ALL of this MEDICINE is vital and necessary for not just my vibrant well-beeing, but for all of ours.



P.S. In gratitude for all of the abundant flourishing that is my life now, I purchased a "grab & give" bag at Sprouts! today.  It's a paper sack filled with Thanksgiving dinner ingredients and food stuffs and it will bee gifted to families at Father Joe's Village for tomorrow's celebration.  I also placed a small donation inside of a Charity Worker's can outside of the grocery store's doors. 
Please, GIVE WHEN, AND AS OFTEN, AS YOU CAN.  
Our luxurious privilege comes with great responsibility.

With that Moon Language

With that Moon Language 
by Hafiz 

Admit something:
Everyone you see, say to them, "Love me."
Of course you do not do this out loud;
otherwise someone would call the cops.
Still, though, think about this,
this great pull in us to connect. 
Why not become the one who lives with a full moon in each eye that is always saying, 
with that sweet moon language, 
what every other eye in this world is dying to hear? 
(translated by Daniel Ladinsky)  

"call the cops
Hafiz, we've heard this all before, though usually in reference to someone else;
and certainly in more subtle, more psychologically nuanced language.
Why do you have to be so direct? So sharp? So unequivocal?  
Everyone you see, you say to them, "Love me." 
You mean me?  You mean that I walk around all day with a big sign on my chest saying love me?  I don't see myself that way.  Not me.  Though I do understand that there are many people in that sad situation; and I would even go so far as to admit that we may all, from time to time, suffer a little from the condition.  But surely there are degrees of the ailment, from high fever to a barely discernible tone of voice or look in the eyes?

This is why Hafiz had to be sharp.  His words need to cut like a knife through our defenses to get to the core of the truth.  No one wants to hear this.  It's embarrassing.  It's humbling.  But the cleaner the wound, the quicker it heals.  And the truth is, however self-determining we may take ourselves to be, however mature and at home with ourselves we may feel, it is still likely that, in the wings of our awareness, there is some little person in us who never quite grew up, who is always waiting for the slightest opportunity to squeeze some acknowledgement from his parents whatever shape or form they may assume in his adult life.
   
So we want to be loved.  Of course we do.  And one of the most common ways we have of feeling that feeling is to gain the approval of others.  No doubt this contributes to our need to build the tallest skyscraper, run the fastest mile, deliver the best speech, write the best book.  There are other, far more significant contributing factors to human achievement of course - the urgency of a talent or deeply felt conviction to express itself for example; or the upwelling of a fountain of creativity from the deep heart's core, to borrow a phrase from Yeats.  To say otherwise would be sheer reductionism, a diminishment of the human spirit.  And yet, this need for approval, which we take to be love, can so easily seep into everything we say and do.  

We want to prove ourselves; yes, for our own satisfaction, but also to our father, or maybe our mother, and to our peers.  We want to be recognized, esteemed and valued, a perfectly natural and valid desire.  Yet so easily, we can look for the recognition in all the wrong places.  Sometimes for years, sometimes for a lifetime, we may tailor our behavior to fit the image of what we think others will want and like.  We conform socially, we do all the right things, maybe we even go to the school or take up the course of study our father always wanted us to, the profession that he, perhaps, took up himself.  Or we rebel, and do the opposite, which amounts to the same thing: We are still at the effect of our need to be loved.  Maybe we manage to sort out the issue by our thirties or maybe our forties.   Maybe we manage to begin creating a life that is more genuinely our own, rather than one made according to the image of others, and of the collective norm. Even so, we still need to be liked, respected.  

I know a woman who is a successful model.  She has felt ambivalent about her job for years.   But she finds it very difficult - impossible, thus far - to leave. It's not just the money or the travel - those attractions palled a while ago.  I suspect she gets something else that would be difficult to give up.  She gets admiration; she gets the constant affirmation that she is not only beautiful, but that she does her work well.  She feels valued, and that is a healthy and empowering feeling.  The only trouble is, we all know in our hearts that the approval of others for our achievements, our beauty, even the nobility of our character, is not enough, however gratifying it may be.   It is not yet the love we are really looking for, which is why we can feel hollow even in the midst of our greatest successes." 
--from Roger Housden's 10 Poems that Can Change Your Life

la lengua de mi corazon

Me?  A 'Featured Poet - what a treat!
And, after all these years, I am still wearing 'my mama's clothes' ~
only this time it's a green, plaid shawl, 40+ years old.

After an evening of laughter and audience participation,
it dawns on me,
"I been doing this - writing about, reflecting upon,
and embodying my Divine Feminine & Masculine - for years now."

There is no separation beetween.

(for YOU, my friend....)

The Language of My Heart

FUCK!
A timeless ritual of birthing, all one can do is steady her mind in the process.
Focus.
Breathe.  Press.
And, PUSH OUT.
Bare down.
Breathe.
FUCK!

Oh Brother, it's fucking that got us here.
A co-creative act, on-going since time began,
your seed puncturing my moon,
her wild flow beckoning his hard shell,
divinity
dances
in these moments.

There's a temple awaiting our union.
It begs to bee filled with the yin yang of our balance.
With you on your belly, protecting your warm, open heart,
and me on my back, laughing off your defenses.
Perhaps, one day, the veil will drop, the ice will melt,
and you will awaken

to

our bodies rocking in the light.
Our heart songs channeled directly from Source.

This rhythm can go on,
all night long.
This rhythm
sways
to the tune
of a Universal tongue.
La lengua del amor, paz & libertad.
La lengua de mi corazon.

the Earth's LOVE Story

"You smell like Pine," you say, as you nuzzle your tickling nose into my naked armpits.
I chuckle in response, reminded of all those years ago when another brother - though from a further distance - would say the same thing.  Only this time, I understand the deeper implications ~
I Am... Earth. 

I wandered in late to our sacred ceremony this past Full Moon night, smelling of sweat and sex, my hair in disarray, my clothes dirty and rumpled.  A regular witch.  I am the darkness.  And you, you sat there, stoic and erect, beaming in all white without even having to lift your lips into a smile.  A quiet wizard.  You are the light.

Purging our tears, cleansing our Souls, the images of so many Others flickered before my eyes.  Humans suffering, needlessly struggling to prove an egoic sense of Self while losing vital life force in the process.  I felt it all as the lilting Icaros kept turning me from the fetal position I was curled in, attempting to trap the heat to my center, back out towards the Harmony of Song.  The Star People's - our Ayahuasquero's - voices like angels and I a tight bud unfolding towards the rays of the Sun, over and over again.

I was three years old when my Soul made it's choice to turn towards the light.  Four years ago, however, I fully committed to this Love Story that has always burned deep within my gut. 
Only now I understand that this Love Story isn't "mine," it's the Earth's.  So much has revealed itself since - hundreds of guides and teachers, paths and lessons.  It hasn't been easy nor always fun - especially not the literal and metaphorical bites and bumps! - but it's always been exactly what I need.  Now, there is nothing else to do but to keep on keeping on for there is no return fare.  The only thing is that I still don't "know" where to or how.  I am simply surrendering, remaining open, deeply listening and willing to follow the Universe.  It knows, it always does.

Then, you opened up your mouth, in the pitch black your fingers found the chords, and your purity - of Heart and Soul - poured forth.  My Mer-ka-bah rose to meet yours - my dark to your light, my feminine to your masculine, my dance to your song - and my human Self sat watching as these two light bodies twirled and spun.  Brother and Sister eternally united in rhythm, melody, love and light.  
Osiris and Isis dance on.  
The Divine Sun Child has risen.   

Divine Sun Child

Blessings of the Sun Falcon

"Blessings of the Sun Falcon, the Divine Sun Child, Horus, 

Son of Isis and Osiris, flow to you now, beeloved Initiate.  

It is time to allow your life to flourish, without limits, to let 

your light burn bright and without veil, just like the midsummer 

Sun burning without contest in the Egypt desert!  

Blessings of the Sun Falcon herald the time when your 

Divine Legacy is being born.  It is your time to burn bright!

Horus, the Divine Sun Child of Isis and Osiris, was born out 

of impossible circumstances, through the great devotion of 

his mother, Isis, and Her loving determination to heal Her 

husband and bring him back to life, to eventually become 

King of Egypt, defeating dark forces that would seek to 

destroy him and all that He loved, with great triumph.  

It is a story of the Divine Hero of Egypt!

It is also a metaphor for our inner world.  Our Divine Feminine 
must stay true to Her values of love, healing and the triumph of 
creativity over destruction born of fear and hate.  She must never

give up Her belief in Her ideals.  Our Divine Feminine is our body, 
whether man or woman, our inner values and the ideals that make 
our hearts beat stronger and feel right within our bellies.

With such love for her inner Divine Masculine, she never gives up 
on Her belief in Him either, and in Her desire for their togetherness.  
It leads to His healing, even if he has been lost, fragmented 

and thought dead.  The Divine Masculine is our spirit, whether man 
or woman, that our body desires to unite with, to help it come to life 
and light into a new and blissful way.  The love in our hearts calls 

our spirit home into our bodies.  We become able to stand firm, take 
action and make choices that allow our inner ideals to become part 
of our world.  We live according to our values, not just hold them inside 

ourselves.

Finally, as our Divine Feminine and Masculine unite within our bodies, 
a new golden consciousness is born - this is the Sun Child Horus, 
with an Eye that is the Moon and an Eye that is the Sun, 

representing the perfect balance of masculine and feminine in harmony 
with each other.  The Divine Sun Child is the new self, filled with love, 
light and power in the world.  It is the authentic self, living the inner 
truths in the outer world, an agent of healing on this planet, and 
inspiration for others toeventually receive these same blessings. 

As the Sun Falcon, with a burning golden solar disc above his head,
he descends to you now, blessing you with great light, good tidings
and creative potency to manifest your life's legacy, that which has 

meaning and preciousness to your heart and Soul, successfully. 
He is the Sign that your heart needs to know it will triumph.

The Solar Principle for which he stands honors creativity and light
in all forms - music, art, writing, and more.  What is in your heart?  
Are you building a spiritual legacy in your life now?  Even if from 

seemingly small or impossible beginnings, great things are possible 
for you and your creative spirit.

To allow these sacred blessings to empower your Creative Birth now,
in many ways, you are guided to let go of thoughts or feelings that it is
'impossible' or too hard or cannot be done.  Honoring the need to create
as part of your natural life expression is a way for you to receive these blessings.  
You are born to shine like the Sun.  You just are and there is no question 
that it will happen.

This Oracle of the Sun Falcon can also indicate a new and life changing
opportunity on its way to you.  When your heart sings, say YES!  
Do not give up until you have your success!  

The sun will shine on you!  You will succeed!"

--from the Divine Sun Child Card: Isis Oracle Cards by Alana Fairchild

enough is enough

Another Full Moon is upon us,
how do you mark the passage of your life?

Last night's Ecstatic Dance was brilliant - we're finding our flow
and grounding into our purpose.  Together, we - the main space holders and myself,
the weekly volunteers, and the wider community - are experiencing a deepening.

A tighter container with regular rituals has been birthed
inside of which the integrity of chaos in motion (improvisation) plays out and unfurls. 
This, my friends, is the embodiment of the masculine and feminine ~ a radical balance that these radical times calls for.
You must show up to do the work and embody it inside of yourself, now.

For you are nothing less than the Universe in Motion - simply Bee this.

The moon is officially full on November 17th.
Here's the reading from Jose & Lena Steven's Power Path:

"November 17: Full Moon is at 8:16 AM MST. Because this is such a powerful time energetically, it is easy to get caught up in the drama of it all.  The temptation is always to look at what has come down that has been a challenge or is negative.  The mind will always want to understand and try to process what did not work out much more readily than gaining any insight into what manifested without any problem.  During this full moon, discipline the mind to accept and welcome the positives in your life. Focus on what works and ask the "what if" questions that will stimulate even a greater expansion and gratitude."

Lately, I've been personally deepening into my oft-written notion of "no time."  
Time isn't linear.  It's curving and fluid.  
By repeating this idea often, I've been more regularly tasting the slowness of my life 
and relishing it.  
Beecause one truth is that we were all raised on convenience and we all "want it now, daddy!" 
Just like Violet in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory whose father did not assert healthy boundaries for her and, thus, Violet did not have the wherewithal to safely let her impatient desire go, we can all get caught up in what we think we want and roll away from where we need to bee as a result.  
The discipline of life is to keep your eyes on "winning," however the prize is always a vibrant life in which mistakes are allowed to bee made but kindness is the only way. (Just ask Charlie.) 

You have to accept, however, that this kind of LOVE is saying "No" just as equally as it is saying "Yes."  

This is just one example of the healed 'Masculine' - protecting our Selves from the dangers of over-consumption (of candy, sugar, fat, toys, electronics, food, money) by saying "No, it's not necessary.  Enough is enough, Violet.  Come along now."  And, if you refuse, there will bee consequences for your actions.  (Like: You will blow up into a big, purple grape and lose your chances at winning this game.  Is that what you want?)


"ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.
Come along now." 

Webcam video from November 15, 2013 7:06 PM

STATE of INFANTILE

I watched the Hunger Games for the first time last night - it's a searing image of a dystopic future when humanity has been sold into compartmentalized slavery while an urban bourgeoisie clinks expensive champagne glasses as they cheer innocent children on to a violent death in a game of reality television that sickly employs virtual manipulation.  This fantastical sci-fi flick stars Jennifer Lawrence as the main protagonist - the Dark Feminine courageously battling the establishment as even she noxiously falls into playing their psychotic game.  And we, a western, wanting public, confuse reality for myth as we lift this budding, Hollywood starlet onto our shoulders.  The thing is, my friends, we're not far off from such a numbing existence - especially if we don't refuse to fight and end the exploitation of others by a schizophrenic culture that glorifies violence.  VIOLENCE ISN'T ENTERTAINMENT.  

Pay attention, my friends.  Facts don't lie: millions of American dollars end up back in the hands of billionaires as "tax subsidy" for their family farms.  This is what the Farm Bill, and pretty much any "tax" that everyday people are forced to pay, really is - loop holes for the rich to get richer and the middle and lower classes to remain stuck in a life-force killing, energy-sucking existence of survival.  Did you know that Apple is currently beeing sued by the country of Italy for hiding millions of dollars off-shore?  Apparently, it's everyday business for multi-national corporations to evade paying the high cost of their business on planet Earth by taking advantage of Ireland's 12.7% corporate tax law.   Meanwhile, I've got the U.S. government demanding that I pay back-taxes of $700+ dollars for 2007 - a year when I, maybee, made upwards of $20,000. 

If I really show up to "atone" for my financial mayhem of the past few years, then there will bee a higher number purported for what I owe.  Although I am not adding to the world economy by creating "brilliant new products, or services, that will advance our humanity," my carbon footprint on planet Earth is quite nominal.  I share everything I have and I have very little - including no home and no car.  THE WAY I LIVE MY EVERYDAY LIFE IS RELATIVELY PEACEFUL TO PLANET EARTH AND HER MILLIONS OF INHABITANTS.  I'm not mass producing products that will simply end up in a dump.  I am not buying more than my fair share of gasoline - which is the lubricant of our planet's joints that is forcefully sucked out it and violently stolen from other lands at the intended loss of innocent lives.  How is any of this fair or just?  IT'S NOT.   
YOU MUST WAKE UP.

And I know I'm not alone - I know that you too are struggling, to make ends meet, to get out of debt, to enjoy a peaceful livelihood filled with vibrant energy, LOVE, emotional and physical intimacy, real time touch, affection and sex, etc.  Ask yourself: do people or businesses that already have millions of dollars in profits need to "save money," or receive special incentives for simply beeing wealthy?  The answers are obvious.  The thing is, however, MONEY is not going to solve our way outta this.  We can't buy our way to peace, contentment, happiness or LOVE.  WE HAVE TO STOP ALTOGETHER. 

We need to scrap the system - because it's a machinated parent that keeps its orphaned children dependent on its tits and fearful of its impotent balls.  The only thing is, its breasts and testicles do not produce life-affirming, nutritious fluid.  So, we keep suck, suck, sucking, like Vampires desperately hungry for an immortal nourishment that never comes.  Thus, the root of our problem is SELFISH GREED, beecause we truly can not get enough in this ill-fated relationship.  And this greediness is supported by a violent, war-mongering cultural more and ethic.  

MEN, YOU MUST WAKE UP AND RECLAIM YOUR VIBRANT, HEALTHY, SOULS.  And, WOMEN, YOU TOO MUST ARISE FROM YOUR SLUMBER AND TAKE BACK THESE POWER~FULL, LIFE CREATING BODIES.  If you're chasing after money, you're not awake.  Period.  If you're chasing after the workout in order to maintain a boyish frame of lines and no curves then you're not awake.  Period.

Yes, we're all conscious beeings, of course, but we are not all conscientiousness.  Beecause Waking Up Hurts, it means acknowledging that this shit sucks (no matter how much gratitude you cultivate, or how much feigned 'happiness' you practice with spiritual materialism purchases.)  We need to start collectively feeling our anger and quit demonizing those of us who have long been in touch with TRUTH.  AND ONE TRUTH IS THAT WE'RE NOT POWERLESS TO CHANGE ANY OF THIS - this is the biggest illusion of all.  We just have to simply decide to bee honest with ourselves, first and foremost, and then commit to the discomfort of transformation and change.

So, quit with the entertainment - the bobbing and weaving like preposterous cocks clueless to the reality of our planet now and quit with the petty jealousy while competing for scraps.  NOW IS THE TIME TO RECLAIM OUR HUMANITY.  Otherwise, we beecome like our disembodied, machine-like parent.  
We're counting on YOU ~ we need U.S.

GRANDMA, take ii

The first time Grandma and me danced was in the spring of 2010 right here in Encinitas.

A Native American Shaman, who smoked rolled cigarettes like a chimney and whose personality was just as brusk and gruff as his character traits, was our Ayahuasquero for the night.  Like him, his magical blend of medicine was potent and harsh.  All I needed that evening was the first - a single - dose (which looks like a shot of dark sludge smoothie in a cup). 

I recall drinking it and feeling a wave of nausea rise up in my belly.  I cajoled myself to drop deeply into my breath as I slumped with my head on my chest against a wall.  Slow inhalations slowly shot me out of the Earth's atmosphere and far into the Cosmos.  My stoic facade - walls built from a lifetime's fear of beeing judged - broke open and, for hours, copious tears rolled down my face as snot dripped from my nose.

At first, I did not have any emotional attachment to this deep purging - it was simply a cleansing of my BodyMind of a few decades worth of stored grief and trauma.  Simultaneously, fantastic visions of myself in space craft passing over the Earth as well as dug down deep within the Earth's cavernous womb passed before my eyes.  And, I knew then that "It all just is..."  Eventually, however, I gave way to the sobs that wanted to come forth.  I crawled (not beecause I couldn't walk, but beecuase I was beeing gentle and considerate of my peers around me who were engaged within their own quiet, internal healing) over to a peer who was also participated in that night's ceremony.  A soft woman who unconditionally loved a shared brother of ours back into his powerful sexuality, I sat beefore her and grieved.  Back then, I knew not why.

This experience was so profoundly healing that, in the months that followed, I found myself unusually committed to a daily practice of early morning meditation.  I reveled in a heightened state of well beeing and awareness and I felt no desire or need for another such experience.  And, later that year, a partner and I opened our first community center and healing space located in downtown San Diego.  It was this experience that awoke me to my connection to the HONEY BEE, while hastening me further along on my path as a Medicine Woman.  

In the Prosperity Hive, we had an Ayahuasquero from South America, and his bi-lingual, American wife, offer their gentle medicine on a summer night.  In the summer of 2011, I was chomping at the bit for Grandma's Medicine - I "needed" her to help me find discipline.  Sitting in the pitch black of the Hive at the top of the Art Building, I waited, and waited and waited for a "trip" to arrive.  My mind, like a nest of busy bees buzzing on and on and on, hankering for a reprieve and, yet, all that came was a voice from deep down inside of me.  "What you are seeking is inside of you," it said.  "Humph," my ego whined, even as my inner wise woman always knows TRUTH when she experiences it. 

Last year, I invited this same loving healer and his wife back to my then home, a collective house in a vibrant neighborhood of downtown, to once more offer his soothing relief.  Prior to their visit, I bathed myself in intention for the evening's ceremony.  I was calling in a transformation in my life - tired of beeing ill at ease where money and my profession are concerned, I sat with my desire for a SHIFT.  Exhausted from a night beefore spent dancing a loved One's birthday in while he shared his groovy tunes at a Pacific Beach bar, I once more found myself anxiously waiting for the first round of Grandma's Medicine to pass while I sat expectantly, experiencing not a "magical carpet ride" but, rather, annoyance about the loud music pouring out of the church across the street and the sounds of my roommate's shoes clomping across the upstairs wooden floors.

However, when I shot that second round of sludge down my throat, I knew that Grandma had heard my prayers.  Drifting off between consciousness and a semi-sleeping state, I was awakened by the sound of what can only bee described as the power going out to the house.  I awoke with a start, coming back into an upright, seated position, feeling jolted and as though I had to take care of "the issue."  It took a few moments for me to realize that we didn't need the electricity on, for we were sitting in the dark with candles lit and real instruments accompanying the soulful voice of our Ayahusaquero as he sang his haunting Icaros.  And then it dawned on me, what I heard and felt, wasn't outside of me ~ it was within.  My internal poles had shifted.

For the remainder of that round, I swayed and I cried and I held myself as I was visited by numerous visions.  The most telling was an image of me wrapping a blue ribbon around and around the planet as well as through time, as I bound the Medieval era and its noxious normalization of violence as 'entertainment' into a firm bundle.  I then drew it to my chest, and held and rocked it like a Mama to her crying baby.  This is when I felt the hands of Quan Yin, the Bodhisattva of Divine Compassion, guiding us forward - encouraging me to understand that what this now calls for as a sustainable and just way forward is this deep space of Feminine LOVE and FORGIVENESS.  It's our only HOPE and path.

GRANDMA

Recently, an Other asked if I wanted to attend a San Diego presentation of Tedx.  I felt that lead brick in my belly - which is a definitive "NO" - at his request, yet I didn't know why.  Silly me, I began to wonder if it was just my "pattern" until, later that day, I received an email from an acquaintance asking me to sign a petition supporting the work of Graham Hancock, a writer and journalist whose Tedx talk at Chapel Hill on "the War on Consciousness" had been consciously taken down from the organization's youtube channel.

Raised in southern California, I was conditioned to think that life was simply about beeing popular.  And, popularity for a teenage girl revolves around the amount of male attention she receives (which remains the basis of a woman's economic worth).  Therefore, too much of my time was spent focusing attention on how I appeared - the clothes I wore, the coif of my hair, the curl of my lip, the flick of my hip, etc.

When I was seventeen years old, I tried psilocybin (mushrooms) for the first time.  By this point, my regular weekend forays with smoking marijuana had already started to alter my state of consciousness.  My mind was expanding beeyond the superficial minutia of who wore what and which boy did I like and yaddi yaddi yah.  Psilocybin, however, broke me open, transporting me back into the magical world of wonder and nature that, as a girl, I reveled in.  It was a HIGH that rocked me back into peace - a peace that sustained itself for months and didn't need an addiction to anything to maintain.  The only thing was, I had to return to a hostile home environment completely devoid of emotional and physical intimacy.  My regular usage of marijuana beecame a lifetime habit - ineptly filling the void that the absence of LOVE endeavored.

In 2010, I was first introduced to Mother Ayahuasca.  I, personally, refer to this plant-based substance as Grandma.  For me, this is a title of profound respect, and I use it as a name for a very specific tree that I have spent years sitting in in downtown San Diego, as well.  An experience with Mother Ayahuasca is a 5-hour ceremony during which a circle of human beeings drink a noxious shot of yagé, a hallucinogenic brew of various psychoactive infusions prepared with the Banisteriopsis caapi vine as well as other tree barks found within the south American Amazon.  Immersed in our own private worlds, we are dressed in white and sitting in pitch black as a trained Shaman, or Ayahuasquero, gently sings hours of healing Icaros - songs designed to purge and cleanse a person and a community of ills, sickness, cancers, trauma, addictions, ailments, diseases, etc.  Our intention is drawn inwardly, where we are encouraged to tend to our own personal healing.  If you want to heal the world, you have to focus on yourself.  (And I'm not talking about replaying the woes and traumas of our collective and individual pasts, rehashed over and over again in weekly counseling sessions that beecome like a broken record while fattening one person's pocket and keeping others in a rebellious, infantile state.  Also, I do apologize if this here blog has been like this at times - with me stuck in the tale of what has come beefore rather than boldly striking out and creating a new story.)

I could write on and on about my experiences with Grandma (I have sat with her each year since 2010, and I look forward to beeing with her again this weekend) and about where we, as a human culture, find ourselves - devastatingly teetering on a brink of extinction.  However, the two men above and beelow are far more studied on the how's and why's of this.  The solution they are offering is the recognition of a world-wide system that is inherently empty and how you can choose, right now, to think and feel for yourself.  Beecause one fact is, we all need to shift now.  And I'm not talking about some unreal subscription towards full-time happiness and a beelief system that we can just meditate ourselves out of this.  Hell, you're ass should bee pissed off at what's happening to our planet as well as within your life - do you work at a job you hate just for money?  How's your sex life?  Are you struggling just to make ends meet?  How much emotional and physical intimacy do you experience regularly?  

IT IS YOUR BIRTH RIGHT TO LIVE IN HARMONY AND PEACE AND TO EXPERIENCE DEEP, SATISFYING LOVE (and sex).  Yet, more than likely, you feel angry (just like me) that not only has this been denied to you but that you have accepted it as normal.  THIS IS THE BIGGEST LIE OF ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  WAKE UP.  YOU'RE NEEDED NOW.

"UNLESS YOU CONNECT WITH SPIRIT SOON YOU ARE GOING TO BRING DOWN THE HOUSE OF CARDS ON ALL OF US..."  --Graham Hancock

 

RADICAL BALANCE

                                      Get Your 2014 Calendar here: wemoon.ws/

Last night, I once again offered movement medicine, of connection and expression, to a downtown San Diego crowd.  This time, it was a gathering of youthful activists dedicated to the creation of an all inclusive and diverse world that accepts beeing QUEER as simply part and parcel of beeing HUMAN.  This was the second, "We Are Here/Somos Aqui" event that the non-profit organization, Canvass for a Cause, put on this year as an offering for gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgendered people - or, just anyone who does not fit within the hetero-normative box that the mainstream fights to maintain - to bee offered a safe space to express themselves and their unique creativity, via song, dance, spoken word, and more.

I was invited back again to open up the evening with a beginning circle of name sharing and intention setting and then later on I once more had the crowd up, on its feet, moving and grooving, beeing engaged and not just entertained, beeing active and not just passive.  Although I love to perform - I've spent years on a stage and I am both comfortable and confident beeing in the spotlight - today's 21st century activist recognizes that our work lay, not in the limelight, but in encouraging and empowering every human beeing we come into contact with to reclaim their own internal power, to think for themselves with their heart leading the way, and to use their voices to speak up and their bodies to step forward. 

After my heart-felt offering, during which the assembled crowd felt warm, in touch with themselves and others and experienced a deeper sense of beelonging, I then took out my slim wallet and made a small financial donation to this grassroots, from the ground up organization.  There is nothing flashy about Canvas for a Cause - there's no popular leader whose sole focus is bringing in a quarter of a million dollars a year to fund his and his friend's forays into "activism."  Rather, it's just ordinary people, putting one foot in front of the other, and building towards the new consciousness - a sustainable and just world.  

For me, the experience last night was one of my embodying RADICAL BALANCE.

It is thought that the right side of the brain corresponds to the left side of the body, and vice versa, and that the left side of the body is considered to be Feminine and vice versa.
Thus:

Right Brain ~ Left Side of Body (Feminine)
"Irrational"/Intuitive
Creative/Artistic
Nurturing

Left Brain ~ Right Side of Body (Masculine)
Rational/Reasoning
Logical/Methodical
Calculating

In yesterday's post, I wrote about the American male plight (as described by David Deida) of either all spine and no heart or all heart and no spine.  So, perhaps, our goal of RADICAL BALANCE IN THIS YEAR OF 2014, looks like: 

Balancing our healed Inner Masculine - an erect, yet pliable spine which asserts boundaries in the world with confident authority, coupled with an open and vulnerable heart that honors deep intimacy as the end goal of a happy, successful life - with our healed Inner Feminine - an expressive and connected body that flows juice in the world with innocent joy, coupled with a reflective and open mind that celebrates diversity as the essential ingredient of life on planet Earth.

Maybee.
TRY IT ON, AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU FEEL.

I LOVE BOYS

                                     (a lil' contradictory humor takin' us back a few decades)

Boys beecome men and men are our brothers, fathers, friends and lovers.  There is no separation beetween.
 
I am boy crazy - I always have been.
I am simply good at hiding it these days.

In middle school, my mother bought me a pair of dangling earrings (which, in itself, was a big deal) that screamed this truth of mine.  Back in the 80s, with my big pouf of brown hair and legwarmers, I was proud to proclaim it. 

And, the boys, well, they always loved me, too.  Early on, they were fond of buying me chocolate and rings and professing their undying LOVE.  Usually, I rejected all of it.  I simply could not openly receive their adoration - their love notes and poems, their affection and sweetness.  It turned my stomach and just left me feeling highly uncomfortable.  My neighbor was wise - he'd ding dong ditch my parent's front door so that I had no recourse but to receive gratefully from my "anonymous" admirer.

At some point, however, the roles reversed and I started leaving LOVE notes and cards, prose and art for my man of the moment.  In college, that moment lasted for two years!  There is such exquisite sorrow in unrequited LOVE ~ it's a suffering that I no longer impose upon myself.

As a true LOVER, I am quite the connoisseur.  I LOVE MEN in all shapes and sizes, in all hues and colors, in all tongues and forms of prayer, and in all economic strata.  I have been fortunate to lead a life in which I have tasted a wide range and diversity of them - poor and rich, tall and short, moody and stoic, round and lean, artist and scientist, urbanite and farmer, student and professional, high maintenance and wild, fit and undisciplined, hard and impotent, worldly and unexposed - the list goes on.  Certainly, I have a preference for a certain "type," but I remain OPEN to trying them ALL.  Why not?

For the past decade, my dance with men has been dynamic.  From long term relationships to short-term LOVERS to months of dating to "wham-bam-thank-you-maams!," I've been trying everything and, for the past four years, I've diligently tended to peeling away my layers and defenses so that I could more quickly, without fear or insecurity, offer my DIVINE FEMININE, UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.  Yet, what I have widely noticed over this time period, is how unable most men are to either receive my unadulterated LOVE or to bee transparently honest about where they are and what they want.  (I.e. "I just want to fuck you."  "I am attracted to you, but I am really having a hard time letting go of my affection for another person."  "I don't know what I want, so I'm confused."  Etc.)

Years ago, while enjoying an afternoon snack of tomatoes and basil straight off the vine, a past mentor of mine, said to me, "You know, Cara, there are only two acceptable emotions for American men: fear and anger."  And, in his work on sacred sexuality, David Deida contends that American men are either all spine and no heart or all heart and no spine. 


As a gross generalization, One walks around in a state of FEAR.  His tale is tucked under, his sphincter is tight, his spine rigid, and the walls around his heart are sealed relatively shut.  He has a hard time connecting to his feelings, emotions and sensations.  He fears beeing judged as gay, or "feminine," and he works hard to prove that he is a 'manly man' - with a big car, a big wallet, or what have you.  He maintains an armor of defense and is over-protective - continually fearing that attack is imminent. 

Without proper support and gentle LOVE, he is inclined to strike out pre-imminently in order to protect his narrow sense of self.  He is generally successful at chasing after culturally endorsed signs of success - money, achievement, notoriety, etc - and he usually has no problem wielding a hard cock while absentmindedly shoving it into holes. 

This One is the embodiment of the Masculine Warrior that is a by-product of our militarized state.  More than anything, however, he simply fears that who he is, at his core, is not enough, so he's run run running ahead - so fast, so hard - trying to always prove his self and his worth.  He fears he is inadequate and he fears that LIFE will not provide - that "there isn't enough" - so he hoards and he takes and he steals.  

He can bee found distracting himself from all of this deep knowing inside of a beer bottle, or other addictive substances, down at the local tavern, or nightclub.  His deep sense of inadequacy eventually catches up with him and will end up affecting his sex life as well as other aspects of his whole beeing health.  Heart disease is one of his major causes of Death.

The other One walks around in a state of ANGER.  His heart chakra is burst wide open at the front, his vision is reaching for the light of the Son, and his feet are ungrounded.  He's quickly running across the clouds, chasing an ideal of enlightenment while addicted to staying naturally high.  He refuses to acknowledge light's natural counterpart - shadow - as an inherent facet of life on planet Earth.  The heaviness of reality (aka gravity, or "the feminine") attempts to drag his feet back down to Earth, and he resents it.  

His anger is rooted in a deep sense of powerlessness.  Abused by the masculine, he has been conditioned to beelieve that one half of him is evil and cunning.  His softness and nurturing instincts demonized, he is disconnected from his root chakra and finds release in pornography.  Castrated also by the feminine, either by his mother or ex-wives, he was taught at an early age not to speak, or act, but to stand quietly by and watch.  His cock tends to go limp and his curving spine tends to close, rather than open, the space in his upper back - where the most vulnerable part of our hearts lay.   

Without firm guidance, this One's anger renders him into a state of deep depression.  Relinquishing his power further, he accepts codependency, veiled as "modern medicine" as a solution.  He is too paralyzed to use his voice to fight for what he knows in his heart to be true - that power is not found in violence, force or injustice.  Caught up within a disastrous current, he feels helpless to change current circumstances.  After millennium, he has been bred to go with the flow.  The courageous warrior is nowhere to bee found, what remains is a cowardly lion who looks outside of himself for direction, guidance and power.  His misery accepted as normal, he too can bee found drowning his sorrows in alcohol, or other distractions (including years-long counseling), that keep him from beeing honest with his true Self.  More than likely, he will succumb to cancer.

These two characterizations can bee blended together into One person.  Most of all, I "know" this beecuase I AM THIS.  I am writing about my own Innner Masculine here.  He's so wounded, and it hurts so badly.  Last night, I felt "triggered" and, as I walked along a moonlit shore, I felt all of my sadness for him.  I cried for him because  1.)  I don't trust him.  I don't trust my Inner Masculine to lead forward based on all of the above.  And,  2.)  My Inner Feminine just won't let him bee.  She's so afraid that he will abuse her and her beeloved Earth, so she just won't let him go and DO what he was brought here to do.  

I also "know" this beecause I experience my blood brother as beeing a man of fear and I see my own father as beeing a man of anger.  Me?  I am a mix of them both and I just want to compassionately LOVE ME back into my full wholeness.  The thing is, though, I am WOMAN.  I can only do so much to right this imbalance.

Please, my dear boys out here in virtual land, PLEASE RECLAIM YOUR SOULS.  Please admit to your own systemic oppression.  (I.e. Hazing and bullying in the NFL.  Widespread pedophilia amongst the male leaders of the Catholic Church.  False evidence to make war on Iraq so that a few companies, like Cheney's Halliburton, could pillage. And, popular sports coaches getting away with decades of sexual abuse against boys.)  Please step forward, Men, and scream that your whole well- beeing - your vibrant body, your warm hearts, your feeling senses, your wise intuition and your connection to this Earth - is VITAL and NECESSARY.  

Please take back your AUTHENTIC POWER.  
Please acknowledge that you are perfect and plenty exactly as you are and that you don't need to prove anything to anyone.  Please.  I am begging you.  WAKE UP!~

 

RAVEN

http://hiddenexperience.blogspot.com/2012/08/dream-image-with-raven.html

I know it's MAGIC when Intuition tingles across my skin and tears well up in my eyes.  It happens a lot when women come into the store, asking for help with negative energy directed at them and theirs.  I have had one too many women come in fearful about jealous sisters ~ Women, WE MUST WAKE UP!  The future of our planet and all of its species, including us, is counting on us.  My pure heart offered its remedies as each She was voraciously grateful to receive.

This beeing a witch, a Shaman, a Tantrika, a Divine Feminine Healer is fertile ground.  Did you know that, like the Native Americans, close to nine million women were also murdered in the name of Christian colonization?  Another HOLOCAUST that has gone too long untold.  Later that day, another you - whom I recognized, but you are absolutely unaware of me - wandered in with your girlfriend.  You too asked for my guidance,"would you buy a monthly internet app that provides an audio book program?" you asked.  I was honest and true even as a lead brick sat heavy in my gut.  "It's a great idea - if you want to make money," I said.

Following money, isn't following your heart.  Life and LOVE on planet Earth doesn't cost ~ it's a freedom that came to us with great responsibility.  Only we're not living up to our potential.  

After mystical moments, I end up right back here, one foot in front of the other, living through another day.  I imagine this is what the mystics refer to when One reaches enlightenment ~ the experience of always having to return back here to just beeing ordinarily human.

So, I looked you up via the world wide web, curious where fall finds you.  You have partnered with the Dark Feminine, only she is like all of the rest of them paraded across popular media, bought and sold into a dominant paradigm that perpetuates power over others, vapid fame, empty fortunes.  Look around, we're sick, we're dying and we're hurting beecuase of all of this dis-ease ~ we need to reclaim our orphaned Souls and learn to re-parent ourselves.  "No, you do not need more," gently advises our  protective Inner Father.  "Yes, you are amazing and perfect and beeautiful exactly as you are, right now," sweetly coos our unconditional Inner Mother. 

And the storm rages.  The water is rising and the waves are unfurling themselves.  Typhoons cycle above East Asia, bombarding its coastlines.  And the storm rages.  Political gerrymandering across supposed party lines while the rich keep hoarding more and almost everyone else hopelessly falls in line, erroneously beelieving that the way out is to just keep on keeping on, buying, selling, driving, consuming, vying for attention, updating social media posts, struggling one over the other, exerting so much force and effort to arrive at an illusion (for there is no end point in this rat race.) 

Working Soul-lessly, lacking Passion, Medicating with Distraction - television, substances, media, and more.

I know it well.  
I come from it - I am it.  
I write this like a beacon in the night, a lighthouse on a distant shore.  It's never too late.  Take heed, caution the warning.  Let's take a sharp left turn on outta this mess ~ this route is headed for catastrophe.

 

amazing image found here: http://www.innerluna.com/?page_id=24

Videoblog ~ (Because You Asked & Encouraged)

Changing the End Goal

The way outta any mess is certainly through it.  Yes, indeed.
However, the way outta this mess is not by perpetuating what got us here in the first place.

The other day, a customer came into the store inquiring as to if we sold any "Earthing" products.
I knew we carried the Earthing book but I didn't know anything about the other products so I did some quick research.  I found a website declaring "Earthing is the landmark discovery..." while selling electronic gadgets that can be put under your feet, in your bed and elsewhere, and that transmit an Earth-like electronic current to your body. 

And, I'm like, "Wait!  Hold up!  This is common sense, people - you don't have to buy anything to connect to the Earth, you can simply walk around in the grass at a park or on a sandy seashore barefooted; you can go camping and sleep on the ground; or you can sit less on chairs and more on the floor.  Earthing is a basic instinct that has been bred out of you.  YOU DON'T NEED TO BUY IT BACK, you just need to CONNECT TO THE EARTH, NOW."

Then, today, B. says to me that he read some article about research into "the hidden drowsiness epidemic" which is studying how and why so many American kids are falling asleep in class and I'm like, "Duh!  They're bored shitless."   

There's this great socio-political comic strip that shows a group of Kenyan boys looking out over an African Sahara.  In bubbles above their heads, they are talking about the plight of the American child.  "I feel sorry for them," one boy says.  "Stuck inside for eight hours a day, without fresh air, and forced to study things that have absolutely no relevance to their daily lives."   "Yeah, we should have a fundraiser and benefit for them," another boy says.

Annie Leonard's Stories ("The Story of Stuff," "The Story of Broke," "The Story of Plastic Water Bottles," etc) are a simple way to share a dire message.  Her newest story, "The Story of Solutions," makes clear that we need to change the end-goal of the game of life from more stuff (including profits) to better well beeing.  OUR CHILDREN ARE COUNTING ON US.
 

What FREE Costs

"What's in it for me?" 
We live in an era when this is a common refrain.
Nobody wants to give unless there is a price attached, a commerce exchanged.
And, yet, here WE are ~ embodying otherwise. 

Yesterday, I drove your Volvo - a second vehicle that, for now, sits less used in front of your house - back to you.  It was a quiet, fall morning as the boys gently enjoyed breakfast time before you drove them to school.  Baby girl was slow to get up and waddle out from her new, big girl bedroom.  While we waited for her to rise, you and I got caught up on each other's lives, in person. 

Parallel experiences, we expressed gratitude at the depth of intimacy that we are each experiencing.  Still, you shared, your inner child comes out to pout, "Why me? I don't deserve."  Fat teardrops fell from your eyes, "will it always bee like this?" you innocently inquired.  "Yes," I replied, "it is why we have had to work so diligently at learning how to re-parent ourselves.  We are doing this for them - the innocents we are raising - so that they may remain joyful, free and harmonious." 

A Dia de los Muertos altar in your living room, I inquired about one of the photographs that I have spent the year wondering who the man holding baby girl is.  Again, the tears welled up in your beautiful face as you remembered the best friend that you lost way too soon.  Your gut racked with sobbing, you surrendered to your grief - years of it stored in your lungs - this memory only an impetus.  

Rubbing your back and holding you, I made sure you felt my unwavering support and then, baby girl and me, we danced around the room to pop music.  Raising her arms to mine, she begged that I swing her, around and around and around.  She, a milky white, unlike her brothers and father, a gift from the Universe, conceived after a raucous party three summers ago - a catalyzing event in the lives of the few who are aware.  (Are you aware?)  

And, this is it!  This is how we give back and forth to each other.  No expensive tastes.  No monthly fee, or weekend price.  No expectation of anything more than hope for true intimacy ~ for real-time human connection when we can honestly express what is deep inside of our hearts and Souls. 

Later on, another you picked me up.  Our friendship a messy ride, it has been my greatest teacher where learning how to give unconditionally is concerned.  And, it doesn't remain an easy task but I re-commit to the Universe and to all of my Soul's lessons.  I am here to evolve ~ there is nothing more.

Happy Mayan New Year TODAY

Yet another auspicious day during a magical time period has come to pass.
Today was a new moon and partial/hybrid solar eclipse, when we Americans collectively chose to set our clocks back one hour.  (See how easy it is to just choose to do something together?)

One of my soul sistars, an Egyptian American Muslim whom I have lived with, prayed with, broken bread with, dance and work with, is trained in the way of the Maya calendar.  Recently, she shared with me about how, when the colonial Europeans set sail for around the globe, they made a pact to destroy all indigenous methods of time keeping.  As a result, native peoples around the planet were forced, by the sword, to accept the Gregorian calendar as their own.  To the Europeans, the Gregorian calendar was designed for one very specific purpose only - to collect taxes. 

To the Mayans, "time" wasn't real, therefore it wasn't something that could bee measured.  Nonetheless, they created a three calendar system that honored the moon's movement around the Earth (lunar), our Earth's movement around the sun (solar), and our solar system's movement in the Milky Way Galaxy (this is what I am guessing, at least). 

After already offering me an interpretation of my Mayan calendar birthday reading, my sistar then announced - on Halloween day - that my only wave spell for 2013 had begun.  Wave spells last for 13 days and only happen every 260 days! 

November is here as well, bringing with it shorter days, longer nights, brisker weather and a Shamanic monthly theme suggestion of DISCIPLINE.   As fall encourages us to do, it is time to reap all that we have sown - I am grateful to bee sweetly luxuriating with another in a full experience of deep intimacy that is both free and fulfilling.  I hope you are too.

For those of us who have been engaged within a deep inter- and intra- personal journey of TRANSFORMATION - WE ARE ALL READY AND WILLING TO EMERGE FROM THESE TIGHT COCOONS.  These past few years have been a rough and tumble, transitory and turbulent ride.  Let's stay our course.  Remember, there is no time - only space.   

LOVE DEEPLY - yourself, first and foremost, and then others and our dear planet Earth.   
We have almost broken through - the veil is thin, yet our auric and energetic bodies are still quite fluid and re-forming themselves.   
WE CAN LET THE PAST GO AND REWRITE THE STORY OF OUR FUTURE.  The time is now.  It's up to each of us.

Inshallah.

sexual FRUSTRATION can equal REVOLUTION

In this day and age, it's really hard to "know" what one is feeling.
Disconnected from our sensing bodies and taught to chase after illusion,
we are no longer capable of sniffing out reality.  Instead, we just take it all in as though
violence and force, and a lack of connection and intimacy is normal.
It's not.

There's this movement out of the Bay Area called OM'ing for "Orgasmic Meditation."  It is a practice in which one partner gently strokes the other partner’s clitoris for 15 minutes.  It's beecome a sub-cultural phenomenon that has garnered a lot of press and quite a lot of followers.  I only have one partner that I OM with - he is a trained stroker who doesn't have a clit.  We've OM'ed together on a number of occasions when I have been open to passively receiving his touch while deeply surrendering to it. 

Now, before I continue there are two things you should know about me: 1.) I masturbated my way through childhood and my teen years.  My buttocks were rock solid from all of the stroking I was doing to myself.  My practice may have beecome unconscious habit but, still, I am the master teacher when it comes to touching my body and giving me pleasure.  In the OM'ing practice, the receiver is certainly encouraged to use words to describe how her stroker can increase pressure and/or speed in order to produce greater sensation.

And 2.) Years ago, I identified in myself how I had emulated status quo by leading and moving forward through the world in an aggressive and goal oriented way.  Thus, I have spent the past three plus years peeling back my layers in order to 'soften' and embody more of my 'feminine' qualities.  This remains an on-going process, yes, and I do beelieve that it is time for the Goddess to reign once more. However, this morning, I felt my FRUSTRATION.

"Wait!" I cried.  "I want to beegin with me showing you how I touch myself.  I want you to watch me before you touch me.  This will build trust between us.  Then, I want you to try on how I do it before we expand and evolve beeyond my habituated patterns.  After our first 15 minutes, when we're done with me, I want to switch roles - your pleasure is as equally important as mine.  You've been as equally - if not more - suppressed and repressed from your Orgasm."  (As One Taste states, Orgasm and Climax are two different things.)    

So, I am FRUSTRATED beecause, there I am surrendering to deeply receive beecause "this is what the FEMININE must re-learn how to do,"  yet, I am completely negating my BODY WISDOM AND MY INTUITIVE KNOWING IN THE PROCESS.  I am so tired of giving my power away to other people, organizations and/or structures who somehow "know better" than me how to LIVE MY LIFE IN HARMONY, FLOW and PEACE with GREAT, DAILY ORGASM.  (Um.  Obviously not beecause, like the dominant paradigm models, it all just ends up beecoming about profit margins and power exerted over others.)  

Beeing in touch with the Natural World, finding joy in shooting stars, sitting in trees, walking on the sea shore, laughing heartily, weeping, feeling my anger and allowing it to move, expressing the dynamic continuum of life on planet Earth without censoring or oppressing myself is ORGASM, along with daily* masturbation, sexual sensation and/or real-time, sweetly intimate SEX, or heart pounding fucking, with and without climax as a goal.
(It doesn't have to bee daily for you.  It can look however it looks, without pressure of it needing to look different.  This now is a cycle and a phase, it will change - that you can count on.  And, with practice, things can change in intended directions, like: harder cocks; longer and more sex; less fat; more muscle; or, perhaps, complete acceptance for your body exactly as it is now; less distraction; more concentration; less fear; more love; less stress & more pleasure.  OR, SIMPLY, COMPLETE ACCEPTANCE OF YOURSELF FOR EXACTLY AS YOU ARE NOW, RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT.  No need to change.  PERFECT.  PLEASUREFUL.  COMPLETE.  This is when life beecomes really exciting beecause then you can offer the exact same thing to your partner(s).  The Dripping Juiciness of LOVE then FLOWS.  TRY IT.) 


DISCOVER YOUR FULL, ONGOING ORGASM AND WAVE IT LIKE A NEW WORLD FLAG, WITHOUT SHAME OR GUILT AND WITH TOTAL PLEASURE.  THIS IS OUR REVOLUTION!!!!