Learning to Trust, part deux

Love, Compassion, Joy & Serenity, Nov 2010

For months now, I've been trying to both really listen and respond quicker - to these moments n-o-w.
I am still learning how.  Thus, when the opportunity to document friends' art and dance shows arose,
I jumped at the chance.  With the Paso y Palmas performance at the Centro, I borrowed a friend's tricked-out Nikon SLR 50,000 (or, sumpin' like that) 'cause I figured that my straight point and shoot wasn't a "professional" enough piece of equipment.  Not fully comprehending the technology, I didn't know how to allow more light in through the shutter.  As a result, I didn't trust my ability to capture the vital moments of passion and drama that oozed (for two full hours) so, instead, I snapped and snapped and snapped away.  With close to two-thousand images to choose from, I spent way too many hours laboring over uploading photos while deleting others.  (&, I won't even fill you in on the other hours spent transferring images to another computer just so I could burn discs!)

The following weekend, I was again on hand to capture a fleeting experience.  This time, I was armed with my point and shoot.  However, before I arrived onto a wet and rainy UCSD campus, I had spent the morning down at the La Jolla Cove wandering amongst the stunning shoreline while caught up in a flowing river of time.  I stopped in to the Living Room Cafe to gather myself and enjoy lunch.  I also enjoyed a wonderful conversation with my table mate.  I stuck around a little longer than I would have liked, so as not to be rude to my new acquaintance.  With minutes to spare, I rushed out the door and headed up the hill.  I knew that I should just relax and savor the ride, yet I became fearful that I would be "late."  The driver in front of me was uninformed of my endeavor, however, and refused to drive any faster than 20 miles up the slick road - regardless of how closely I followed on his tale and how impatient and frustrated I became.  Yet again, I knew that I should just trust - that all is in divine perfect order, always.  But, I didn't.  Instead, I became emotionally moved and anxious.

Naturally, I arrived with plenty of minutes to spare.  While at Richard Cohen's lecture, I opened up the shutter wide on the point and shoot.  In some instances, I pointed my device and waited for a full minute before the shutter clicked.  I chose to trust that the mystery that was being revealed that day would also reveal itself within my camera.  That night, while uploading the images onto my camera, I cried copiously over what I unearthed.  "Don't you see?" I kept asking myself, as I rocked back and forth.  "The brilliance is illuminating."  For there it all was - love, compassion, joy and serenity - as told by a merry cast of pre-evolutionaries.  The beauty is, sometimes, so overwhelmingly tragic.  It's so ephemeral, so nonsensical.  It just is.  I can't explain it and, usually, when I try to, I simply end up hurting myself.  My ego wants to know, though ~ it wants to know why my body is pulled in certain directions and why my heart yearns for some thing.  It wants to know "why..."   I am happiest when I admit that it's all a simple mystery.  Maintaining this belief pattern requires much trust on my part, however.

And, this week, the trust has been hard to come by.  I feel scared, nervous and overwhelmed.  I am fearful about what is currently unfolding in my life.  I am afraid that I will not be able to rise to the challenges that these moments n-o-w are demanding of me.  I just want to pull the blankets over my head and reside in my state of short-term comfort.  I am afraid of the discomfort that is awaiting...
Nonetheless, I breathe in, I think of you and I remember what you've shared with me.  I pray that our paths will cross again and that we will revel in more of the mystery together.  Yet, I surrender to the fact that this is it.  And that this is all it may ever be.

Learning to Trust, part uno

Pasos y Palmas, Nov 2010

My subconscious has spoken to me ever since I was a little girl, offering up the potency of re-occurring dreams and the familiarity of déjà vu from the deep pits of my psyche on a regular basis.  I like to believe that I'm a pretty good listener.  Even though I struggle with maintaining a vigilant presence in my everyday, I frequently tune in to the pulsating rhythms of air currents, swooping birds, diving dolphins, the blood racing through my veins, my heart beating in my chest and stars falling in the sky,  as a quick return trip to right here, right n-o-w, often. Where my weakness has always laid is in my ability to respond, quickly and with ease and grace, to what my intuitive perception is telling me, to what my body, mind and spirit knows as to be truth - my truth. 

I've stayed too long in relationships, and sometimes even with organizations, that didn't serve me out of fear - fear of the unknown, fear of short term pain, fear of life.  Thus, my refusal to listen has always caused myself, and in some instances others, pain and suffering.  By no means do I regret this past of mine, for it has led me here and I am eternally grateful for this moment, n-o-w.  Nonetheless, I recognize that the stress that I have both accrued, as well as reside within, has all been of my own doing.  Damn.  I have no one to point a finger at and place blame.  It is always and ever me, even when I fool myself into judging otherwise.