"Quit being so heavy," he exclaims,
as he smacks her on the arm with a swift, wake up slap.
"Owww," a small voice inside of her head wants to respond,
yet the woman inside of her knows that what she is being offered is a sweet gift.
"Yes! I receive," she coos as she bends at the waist and makes her morning prostrations.
After all,
it's a choice.
Kind of like loneliness.
Kind of like everything, really.
The question then becomes,
what do I choose to focus my attention upon?
Another recommended that she focus on her underlying, residual anger,
but she knows that her resentment is only topical. Its a superficial, façade for all of the sadness
that lay just below her surface. She's sad because - god damn it! - she is still hurting from all of the time that came before spent focusing on the negative and on all that doesn't work. Its pattern has become embodied memory and she must now cultivate the discipline to recognize it at once and then work to shift its intention.
Can she do it?
Only time will tell.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
LOVE is a Four-Letter Word
Messy and vain, dirty and downright suspicious,
love creeps in.
Violent and roaring, shaking the terrain with a firm grip,
love leaks.
Ludicrous and left-leaning,
all-encompassing and tragically beautiful,
love defies.
Confusing and confused,
ironic and platonic,
dutiful and despondent,
love hopes.
Lustfully and completely inappropriate,
Out of bounds, lacking boundaries, and desiring shelter,
love crawls.
Fucking and fainting, screwing and being screwed,
salivating and suppressing,
love lingers.
It passes like a flame in the night.
Torching my soul.
Leaving me to burn.
In orange anticipation
of more
a perceived wanting, created from some elusive need
for deeper growth, long-term commitments
and a much needed respite.
Love lasts.
Dirt-stained and totally pure.
Innocent and profane,
a sacred, divine
essence
comprised of four, little letters.
LOVE
Lets Our Voices Emerge.
Lifts Our Vibrations Elementally.
Long Overdue Vexations Eclipsed.
Brilliantly simple and needlessly complex.
Redundant and elementary.
In the blink of an eye,
eradicated.
In the shake of a hand,
agreed upon.
In a kiss on the lips,
desired.
Love.
It simultaneously kills us
and sets us free.
It breaks us down and tastes like great freedom.
A paradox born of the heart.
Love.
A peace of mind we seek.
Love.
Sinewy synapses released,
love.
Embodied memory,
love.
A body's story,
LOVE.
This time and place,
our here and now,
a collective tale
LOVE.
love creeps in.
Violent and roaring, shaking the terrain with a firm grip,
love leaks.
Ludicrous and left-leaning,
all-encompassing and tragically beautiful,
love defies.
Confusing and confused,
ironic and platonic,
dutiful and despondent,
love hopes.
Lustfully and completely inappropriate,
Out of bounds, lacking boundaries, and desiring shelter,
love crawls.
Fucking and fainting, screwing and being screwed,
salivating and suppressing,
love lingers.
It passes like a flame in the night.
Torching my soul.
Leaving me to burn.
In orange anticipation
of more
a perceived wanting, created from some elusive need
for deeper growth, long-term commitments
and a much needed respite.
Love lasts.
Dirt-stained and totally pure.
Innocent and profane,
a sacred, divine
essence
comprised of four, little letters.
LOVE
Lets Our Voices Emerge.
Lifts Our Vibrations Elementally.
Long Overdue Vexations Eclipsed.
Brilliantly simple and needlessly complex.
Redundant and elementary.
In the blink of an eye,
eradicated.
In the shake of a hand,
agreed upon.
In a kiss on the lips,
desired.
Love.
It simultaneously kills us
and sets us free.
It breaks us down and tastes like great freedom.
A paradox born of the heart.
Love.
A peace of mind we seek.
Love.
Sinewy synapses released,
love.
Embodied memory,
love.
A body's story,
LOVE.
This time and place,
our here and now,
a collective tale
LOVE.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
On Peace and Resignation
I appreciated a long weekend getaway to spend time with my beloved familia at my brother's house in NorCal. And, truth be told, I really needed to unplug from San Diego. While enjoying downtime doing three of my favorite things - reading, eating and sleeping - I discovered myself embodying a new place. I found myself residing in a state of peace. There were no re-actions to my mother's anger, which she can spew with violent words and catty gossip. My brother-in-law's attempt to shame me with words fell on an unflinching BodyMind. And, there was no desire to be somewhere else, or with someone else.
I noticed the typical parade of thoughts as they marched through my mind and I allowed myself to be entertained by them. They were simply images without any real traction for creating a response from my BodyMind. There was no palpitating heart excited for another meeting with some elusive other and there was no racing distraction pulling at my steady pulse. Although I recognized that I was lacking the discipline to oust the stories altogether in order to simply exist in a state of "Mindfullness," I decided that this was okay by me. I just want to be human, after all. I'm not looking to be some enlightened sage or, even, a wizened Dharma bum. I just want to be me.
After months of a pinched nerve causing numbness in my arm, I relished the rest that has been returning my body back to whole. I awoke in my nephew's bed with the orange hues of sunrise rising through the window and I tasted them with my breath. There was no desire to be someone else doing something more profound with my life pulling at my center. There was only this and it felt good. It felt like peace. Gone was my Ego's push to prove some thing, any thing. All that remained was quiet comfort. So, I began thinking that maybe I'll just let all my hopes and desires for a United US go. Maybe, I can just trust that it has already been written and that I can just allow for whatever it is.
But, today, I returned to the Hive and to my job as its keeper. It requires physical labor for me to maintain the sacredness of this space and I realized that although I welcome PEACE, I am not resigned. I will not give up on what my heart is instructing me is a real, live possibility of PROSPERITY for ALL OF US. I guess I was thinking that my passion had cooled. Yet, the fact remains, I'm still deeply in love and I guess it's the only thing I want to believe in anymore.
I noticed the typical parade of thoughts as they marched through my mind and I allowed myself to be entertained by them. They were simply images without any real traction for creating a response from my BodyMind. There was no palpitating heart excited for another meeting with some elusive other and there was no racing distraction pulling at my steady pulse. Although I recognized that I was lacking the discipline to oust the stories altogether in order to simply exist in a state of "Mindfullness," I decided that this was okay by me. I just want to be human, after all. I'm not looking to be some enlightened sage or, even, a wizened Dharma bum. I just want to be me.
After months of a pinched nerve causing numbness in my arm, I relished the rest that has been returning my body back to whole. I awoke in my nephew's bed with the orange hues of sunrise rising through the window and I tasted them with my breath. There was no desire to be someone else doing something more profound with my life pulling at my center. There was only this and it felt good. It felt like peace. Gone was my Ego's push to prove some thing, any thing. All that remained was quiet comfort. So, I began thinking that maybe I'll just let all my hopes and desires for a United US go. Maybe, I can just trust that it has already been written and that I can just allow for whatever it is.
But, today, I returned to the Hive and to my job as its keeper. It requires physical labor for me to maintain the sacredness of this space and I realized that although I welcome PEACE, I am not resigned. I will not give up on what my heart is instructing me is a real, live possibility of PROSPERITY for ALL OF US. I guess I was thinking that my passion had cooled. Yet, the fact remains, I'm still deeply in love and I guess it's the only thing I want to believe in anymore.
The Written Word
I was eleven years old when I first began writing.
I had stolen from my sister a birthday gift that a friend had given her. It was a blue and white diary - you know the kind that comes with the little, silver key? At first, my diary entries were pure pithy - "Hello, Diary," I'd begin. "What do I write to you?" I'd wonder.
I've always thought of my sister has a highly exceptional person. As an example, when she discovered my thievery, she bequeathed me the book. So, it made sense that I wanted to copy her every move - including putting the pencil to the paper in order to expose my little girl thoughts. Of course I had no clue then that I was intuitively writing to save my life.
I wrote because it was an outlet - a way for me to release all of the hurt and the sorrow that I found so difficult to verbally convey in my everyday life. I wrote of the random beatings from my dad and of the day when I swore him and his last name off. My written words told the tale of a young person confused by the contradiction of knowing deep love in her heart while experiencing violent conflict in her home.
I wrote about my neighborhood friends, as well as about national politics. And, of course, I wrote about boys. By the end of sixth grade, that little book was full and on its back page was found the names of all those whom I had chosen to love. I even created some bizarre key system that denoted who I "went out with," who I "kissed on the cheek," and who I allowed to stick his tongue in my mouth. Oh, little girls!
Today, I have dozens of books filled with my writing. Most of it is pure crap but, every once in awhile - if I'm lucky - a little gem will reveal itself. Obviously, I still write and my intention remains the same. I write to save my life. When I began this blog, I did so in hopes of holding myself accountable to my writing. At that time, I was living through an apex of my own self-imposed suffering. No matter how much my graduate school professor implored that I write, I couldn't seem to pull myself out of the deep hole of apathy that I was residing in.
Creating this online space was a way to both release my feelings, thus taking some of the power out of them, as well as practice my craft. Since then, I've come to know that others can and do read this blog, which has been a mixed blessing. I'm delighted to know that my writing just might help to save your life, too. This feels like service, and I appreciate knowing how I can and do positively impact the lives of others. Yet, lately, it seems that I am checking the stats of who is reading what and from where way too often. And, to be quite frank, "Frankly, I don't give a damn."
I don't give a damn if these words are read or not. I don't give a damn if you like what I write or not. Today, I still do this to save my own life - because if I didn't get it all out then I'd surely explode from way too much holding on. Plus, my writing has always offered me the space and time for reflection. It is also a way to craft meaning. Sometimes, life can feel so ridiculously meaningless - like, what's the point when innocent people are murdered and a greedy self-absorption seems to be the revered way? So, I write to LIVE - it's yet another radical act of claiming my rightful place in this here and now.
I had stolen from my sister a birthday gift that a friend had given her. It was a blue and white diary - you know the kind that comes with the little, silver key? At first, my diary entries were pure pithy - "Hello, Diary," I'd begin. "What do I write to you?" I'd wonder.
I've always thought of my sister has a highly exceptional person. As an example, when she discovered my thievery, she bequeathed me the book. So, it made sense that I wanted to copy her every move - including putting the pencil to the paper in order to expose my little girl thoughts. Of course I had no clue then that I was intuitively writing to save my life.
I wrote because it was an outlet - a way for me to release all of the hurt and the sorrow that I found so difficult to verbally convey in my everyday life. I wrote of the random beatings from my dad and of the day when I swore him and his last name off. My written words told the tale of a young person confused by the contradiction of knowing deep love in her heart while experiencing violent conflict in her home.
I wrote about my neighborhood friends, as well as about national politics. And, of course, I wrote about boys. By the end of sixth grade, that little book was full and on its back page was found the names of all those whom I had chosen to love. I even created some bizarre key system that denoted who I "went out with," who I "kissed on the cheek," and who I allowed to stick his tongue in my mouth. Oh, little girls!
Today, I have dozens of books filled with my writing. Most of it is pure crap but, every once in awhile - if I'm lucky - a little gem will reveal itself. Obviously, I still write and my intention remains the same. I write to save my life. When I began this blog, I did so in hopes of holding myself accountable to my writing. At that time, I was living through an apex of my own self-imposed suffering. No matter how much my graduate school professor implored that I write, I couldn't seem to pull myself out of the deep hole of apathy that I was residing in.
Creating this online space was a way to both release my feelings, thus taking some of the power out of them, as well as practice my craft. Since then, I've come to know that others can and do read this blog, which has been a mixed blessing. I'm delighted to know that my writing just might help to save your life, too. This feels like service, and I appreciate knowing how I can and do positively impact the lives of others. Yet, lately, it seems that I am checking the stats of who is reading what and from where way too often. And, to be quite frank, "Frankly, I don't give a damn."
I don't give a damn if these words are read or not. I don't give a damn if you like what I write or not. Today, I still do this to save my own life - because if I didn't get it all out then I'd surely explode from way too much holding on. Plus, my writing has always offered me the space and time for reflection. It is also a way to craft meaning. Sometimes, life can feel so ridiculously meaningless - like, what's the point when innocent people are murdered and a greedy self-absorption seems to be the revered way? So, I write to LIVE - it's yet another radical act of claiming my rightful place in this here and now.
Friday, December 23, 2011
One of My Favorite Poems of All Time for YOU, (a Christmas Gift)
If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting will look,
lift your face and say,
like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness of the night sky,
climb up on the roof and dance and say,
like this.
If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is,
or what "god's fragrance" means,
lean your head toward her or him
keep your face there close,
like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen, knot by knot,
the strings of your robe,
like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead
don't try to explain "the miracle"
kiss me on the lips,
like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means to "die for love,"
point here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown and
measure with your fingers the space between
the creases on your forehead.
The soul sometimes leaves the body,
then returns.
When someone doesn't believe,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan
they're telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live,
stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in her hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph's scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob's sight return?
Huuuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Huuuuu.
And when Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he'll put just his head around the edge of the door
to surprise us,
like this.
Mevlana Jelauddin Rumi was a prolific Sufi poet
who spun around the Earth over 800 years ago.
"Your essence is hidden in dust.
To reveal its splendor
you need to burn in the fire of love."
(Burn Baby, Burn!!!!)
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting will look,
lift your face and say,
like this.
When someone mentions the gracefulness of the night sky,
climb up on the roof and dance and say,
like this.
If anyone wants to know what "spirit" is,
or what "god's fragrance" means,
lean your head toward her or him
keep your face there close,
like this.
When someone quotes the old poetic image
about clouds gradually uncovering the moon,
slowly loosen, knot by knot,
the strings of your robe,
like this.
If anyone wonders how Jesus raised the dead
don't try to explain "the miracle"
kiss me on the lips,
like this. Like this.
When someone asks what it means to "die for love,"
point here.
If someone asks how tall I am, frown and
measure with your fingers the space between
the creases on your forehead.
The soul sometimes leaves the body,
then returns.
When someone doesn't believe,
walk back into my house.
Like this.
When lovers moan
they're telling our story.
Like this.
I am a sky where spirits live,
stare into this deepening blue,
while the breeze says a secret.
Like this.
When someone asks what there is to do,
light the candle in her hand.
Like this.
How did Joseph's scent come to Jacob?
Huuuuu.
How did Jacob's sight return?
Huuuuu.
A little wind cleans the eyes.
Huuuuu.
And when Shams comes back from Tabriz,
he'll put just his head around the edge of the door
to surprise us,
like this.
Mevlana Jelauddin Rumi was a prolific Sufi poet
who spun around the Earth over 800 years ago.
"Your essence is hidden in dust.
To reveal its splendor
you need to burn in the fire of love."
(Burn Baby, Burn!!!!)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wrapping It Up
It's been a MIRACULOUS 2011. My personal and professional world exploded wide OPEN
and I count my blessings daily for the experience that this now continually brings with it.
The year began with Shakti and I finding ourselves living and working together out of the Prosperity Hive. For the Hive's mystical birth on December 4th, 2010, Barry Logan of La Milpa Organica Farm dropped a $100 bill into my hand which I then spent at the Little Italy Mercato in order to feed our community on this amazing evening. Afterward, our friends Sean Savage and Yuba Foxfire built our wooden loft within a loft platform with the money that was raised on the Hive's debut. DJ Alan B. also hooked us up with a very necessary refrigerator. Other than that, the Hive was a blank slate, an empty canvas awaiting for a DIVINE year to unfold.
Our Dance Jam and Encinitas Dance Community, including Devi, John, Ery, Corinne, Blaize, Samuel, Brooking, Jenn, Sara, Gwendolyn, Carey, Dave, Trina & so many more, repeatedly showed up for US by warming up our dance floor, bedding down in the Hive and then enjoying numerous brunches, the morning after, together.
The brilliant artwork of Mario Torero has graced the Hive's walls since its official opening, along with the work of Rich Walker, Daniel Jaimes, Rory Canfield & True DeLorenzo. Mario even painted live in the Hive on two occasions.
Local favorite Todo Mundo helped to kick off the Hive's launch and kept the live beats flowing through the spring. The Hive's Peace Stage was consistently lit up by the amazing sounds of Joshua Napier, Universal Greetings, Sister Speak, Matt the Folkmuse Stone, Sweden's Kvartetten Raeken, Ariana Saraha, Song de San Diego, moon by you, and so many other amazing live, improvisational artists.
Sarva Dharma Productions brought both the Kirtan Rabbi to the Hive for a Friday night Shabbat service as well as the Earth-grounding sound and lyrics of Singing Bear.
Devra Gregory consistently held monthly space with her Sacred Soul Circles, as did the 1st Saturdays organization that gathers a 40-person strong circle together every month in order to "Help the Homeless."
Nikyta Palmisani shared an evening of her "Journeys with the Shuar Tribe in Ecuador." Meanwhile, New Mexico's healer and singer Windwalker graced the Hive with her strength while providing me with some much needed hands-on healing.
DJs Alan B., Johnny T., Matt B., and Dr. Diggs were instrumental in our celebrations of LOVE.
Lucilla de Alejandro of Suzie's Farm presented an Ojo de Dios workshop in the Hive (a few of my designs currently hang in the Hive) and also brought her twin daughters along for numerous Baby Boogie experiences, along with Leyla Makris, Carolina Godoy, Lorien Cortez, Jenelle Ferhart & many more.
Dance company Critical Morph debuted during the Spring Equinox, Super Moon event of "Persephone Rising," which was a rousing success produced by Jenn Shultz.
CSA boxes chock full of Sage Mountain Farm produce were provided for some of our neighbors here in the Art Center.
The Enchanted Gardener brought Sharon Alexander and her Jewish Gospel to the Hive for an afternoon of singing Jospel.
Angel Franquez held weekly space in the Hive by inspiring others to "Sing their Song."
Congregation Shir Ya Ham sponsored an afternoon of "Embodying Prayer" with Rabbi Diane Elliot.
The local 3HO Organization shared a Kundalini Yoga workshop in the Hive taught by Dhyan Khalsa, and accompanied with a live gong and music.
Shakti spent her summer traveling and moved out of the Hive in August.
I've held weekly dance space on Wednesdays and am eternally grateful for the small tribe that has continually gathered together, namely Sasha Peter Carter, Maya Ramirez Schwarz and Felix Diaz. Together, we've shared our improvisational dancing live at Jon Block and Adam Rosen's Sight and Sound as well as Art Around Adams.
The Prosperity Hive was also at Here & Now, as well as presenting private concerts, along with Todo Mundo, at facilities for the under-served, such as senior citizens, psychiatric outward patients, and an HIV-support home.
A Peruvian Shaman lit up the Hive with his Icaros on a summer night.
Hasmik and Andrea brought the National Lawyer's Guild in to the Hive to sponsor a radical mixer on a summer night, called RadFest.
Amrita Joy Ananda Ma shared her ExtraTerrestrial Shamanism in the Hive, as psychic D.r. Peck cleared the Hive of any lingering past-life agreements.
Chef Centuhua taught an evening class of making raw pie and a super food elixir as Shaela Noella Roselena brought her sacred scents and sound.
The Break Bread and Build dinner series was born in the Hive during which a few dozen local San Diegans came together to explore what the meaning of sustainability is.
There have been countless sleepovers, brunches and meals shared together in delight and in honor.
For my 35th birthday, Gina Tang, Angel Franquez, and Marlon Frausto honored me with a day spent building during our leadership retreat.
The Soular Power Brigade was born out of the Hive and the Soular Flare on 11/11/11 was truly a palpable surge of restorative and rejuvenative energy.
Cynthia Salonista brought her Spaghetti Social to the Hive on Thanksgiving and it was an evening full of Shiva energy.
The HoneyFest San Diego organizational committee filmed a delightful video in the Hive that will debut early in the new year. I can't wait for you to see it and I certainly hope that you will join US in celebrating not just an unBEElievable one year anniversary party but in promoting awareness of the crucial role that Honeybees play in our world. HoneyFest SD takes place Jan 13-15th - here is the website link.
In this year's end, all that remains is
LOVE.
True to form, I don't know what 2012 is to bring with it.
I can only hope that it brings YOU.
Because, ultimately, it is your presence, your smile, your bee-ing and your dancing feet that enliven not just my hOMe, but my heART.
It's all I could ever ask for...
Thursday, December 15, 2011
On My Power, Lost & Found (take III)
 |
| Boy & Girl, Bro & Sis |
I received a "rejection" notice in my e-box today. I've become more used to these "No's" than ever. However, this one reminded me of being in my last semester of graduate school and, during the winter break, receiving the news that no, I would not be graduating and that, instead, I was required to demonstrate more valiant effort. I cried, and played the victim then. "Wahhh, poor me," I wailed to my ex.
Today, the writing is on the wall. Good luck, bad luck, who knows? Plus, it is time I fully step up and put my action where my mouth is. As, all week, I have also been rubbing up against the edges of the full self-empowerment of others. And I recognized that I can give you a space but that I can't give you self-empowerment. So, "how do I teach this?" is the question that arose in my inquiring BodyMind. The answer that came is, "You can't, Cara. You can only EMBODY it."
What losing and reclaiming My Power has reminded of is that the only way forward is by letting go of the past as well as releasing any static notions I have of what is to come in the future. And, this means, that my EGO must (emotions) Go! Because, ultimately, what Power, my dog, continually reminds me of is that what is the most measurable in this lifetime now is the way that we touch and affect one another. Our Relationships are What Feed Us - deeply. Our Connection with Each Other is the Only Thing That Will Sustain Us. So, my ego must go because then what I implied about family and kids earlier is far from the mark...
Today, I honor the challenge that is before me: can I let go of the heaviness of my past as well as release my expectations of any future outcomes so that I may fully embrace this here and now?
Only time will tell.
On My Power, Lost & Found (take II)
 |
| Sweet Boy |
I recognize that I write a lot about words like Love, Compassion & Loyalty, yet how do I truly embody this language in my day-to-day? This week, then, I've spent quite a bit of time with my ex. He's newly engaged, and he's still running around like a chicken with his head cut off. In our conversations, I've had to be honest with the both of us that I allow myself to harbor pain and sadness over the four years that we spent together. As a result, he's been encouraging me to look at our shared journey through the lens of positivity and learning. Thus, as I have been scratching the surface of me deeper, I sense that laying below these more topical feelings is the heaviness of shame and guilt. As I so boldly proclaim on my website, can I release my own tension, fear and pent-up emotion?
I don't know,
but I'm willing to try.
I also found myself projecting - very heavily - onto my ex. I felt upset and angry when he told me that his fiance may be pregnant. "What?!?!" I exclaimed. He may have misinterpreted my feelings, which I immediately recognized was pure self-projection. In my ex, I experience this profoundly powerful man who is the 21st century embodiment of Bruce Lee. Deeply intuitive and intelligent, I want him to run, run, run with this power of his! I don't want him to fall into the "trap" of marriage and kids before he gives himself a fightin' chance. Ouch. Yeah, I'll come back to that statement in a bit.
When I allowed myself to fall in love (especially with someone who did not look, speak or think like me) it was the hardest thing I had ever done, because I was finally forced to see that my shit did not smell like the delusional roses I was sniffing. Hell, my shit stank so bad! Meanwhile, he embodied all that I wasn't - creative genius, bold action, common sense, courageous valor (he illegally made that southern border crossing alone as a scared 15-year-old and has managed to create his own thriving businesses for himself since!) - where as I was (and still am, in a lot of ways), a spoiled and pampered American, mama's girl. Double ouch.
Yet, for four years, I had the privilege of watching him in action and learning his tricks of the trade. Now, I find myself in a role reversal where I am having to embody common sense and outside-the-box thinking, among other things, to my peers on a regular basis. In the recent past, I worried that I would make the same mistake and be too hard on these others, just as my ex was on me. True to form, this did happen with Shakti. Yet, I don't want to merely perpetuate the past. Rather, I SEEK TO EMBODY A MESSAGE OF LOVE & COMPASSION.
So, how does One do this?!?!
On My Power, Lost & Found
 |
| My Power is... soft. gentle. kind. loving. affectionate. open. curious. pure. caring. furry. fuzzy. intuitive. instinctual. BLACK. funny. silly. airheaded. observant. keenly aware. highly intelligent. youthful. sweet. hilarious. innocent. |
What a week!
My Power was literally lost. Per the wild tendencies of both him as well as my ex, he sauntered right out the garage door and into the central animal shelter for the past two days. Intuition told me "No, Power isn't in the shelter" and, thus, I lost valuable time, energy & resources driving all around town, making signs, & etc., without fully investigating the validity of my feelings. Ai!
Yesterday, I finally walked into the first animal kennel in the lovely Linda Vista Kroc Center and the first dog in the first door on the left is my very own. He looked at me, as happy as always. "There you are!" I spoke. "We've been looking all over for you." And he just smiled back, shaking his ass and standing there, waiting patiently. "Power!" I finally cried and his whole body came to life. "Ruffruffruuuffffff," he responded, as the recognition that he was "found" dawned on him.
Names and words aren't simply just spoken. They hold meaning, they have intention and they transcend mere verbal communication. Power, my dog, has taught me more about what true power is than, I think, any human possibly could. My ex and I adopted him when we shouldn't have. Both Mario & I are extremely irresponsible adults - running from our own selves, we barely stop long enough to really sink in to these moments, now. Yet, pouring attention and love into something other than one's self can truly be a gift that keeps on giving. So, Power was found by my ex's cousins and, at just eight weeks old, we brought him to our then shared home in Clairemont.
At that time, I was living through an apex of my own extreme, self-imposed suffering. My daily walks with Power became not just a reprieve but vital life-learning lessons. I'd drive him over to OB's Dog Beach and watch as he would joyously run up to every seated human being, asking them for what he ultimately only ever wants (which is affection). Power makes connecting to others look easy.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Hallelujah
"Your faith was strong, but you needed proof,
you saw her bathing on the roof,
her beauty and the moonlight
overthrew ya.
She tied you to a kitchen chair,
she broke your throne
and cut your hair,
and from your lips she drew a Hallelujah.
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah,
Hallelujah."
This is a tale that I haven't quite told yet. It's about Love, which I seem to endlessly wax and wane upon. I don't know what "it" is, and yet my whole life vibrates upon it. I recently read Victor Villaseñor's newest novel, Lion Eyes - the title alone of which holds a lot of synchronicity for my own life - and I cried my eyes out the whole time.
I didn't purge endless tears because the non-fiction tale is sad and heart-breaking. To the contrary, it is a head-spinning adventure of light and positivity. Rather, I cried copious, fat tears because, at its heart, it's a story about a courageous man and the beautiful woman who was born to love him. "It's written in the stars," she pronounced as a child when first experiencing her man's noble spirit.
So, I cried and cried and cried. And, I cried and cried and cried some more. In this era, when I feel so much pressure to move through the world as a strong and self-assured woman, it's a little embarrassing to be completely forthright about my honest feelings. Yes, it's this kind of devotion that my bee-ing beats for. Ultimately, it's why I left my last relationship. I would find myself mourning silent tears because I was staying in a union that wasn't true to what my heart has always known is my truth. Yes, the stars have also always told me that my Divine counterpart is here, on this planet, now. I have many, YES! And, I firmly believe in a core nucleus that comes together, each burning with their own bright genius, to generate even more nuclear fusion, aka LIFE.
Sometimes, I question if this is all just the brainwashing of my fairy tale loving culture. Yet, I know it's not - because I'm not looking to be saved. I can, do and have saved my Self - thank you very much. Rather, I'm looking for you to not just show up and do the same but to step up higher and make manifest glory for all living creatures on this planet in whatever little way that you can.
Then, I'll kneel down at your feet. I'll jump into your arms and squeal when I see your lovely face. I'll rub my scent all over you as I claim and mark my territory. My BodyMind will tell US that this union is meant to be - divined through space and time - and all you will have to do is receive, accept and hold space.
Apparently, "Hallelujah" is a song loosely based on the Biblical tale of Samson & Delilah, but I think their timeless love story runs deeper than this topically told narrative. I think those words above, sang most profoundly by Jeff Buckley, hit the nail on the head. We all need someone - like the Goddesses Kali Ma, Durga, Sekhmet, and so many more, represent - who is willing to puncture our pretenses of Ego so that we may touch the Divine and trust in that which is unseen, in the mystery of the Universe and in the unfolding of life and love by simply believing deeply. Because it's when we tap into this that we each toss our hands to the sky and exclaim, "Hallelujah!"
As for me, I am still following my dream, as well as totem ~ the eyes of the Mountain Lion enjoyed a setting, autumn equinox, full moon as well as a rising sun with me last year out on sacred land in East San Diego County. Here's the blog story I wrote about that experience.
Yes, it is all unfolding according to divine perfect order. All I have to do is remain consistent. Until then, cultivate your unwavering faith. You don't have to see it to BELIEVE. YOU JUST HAVE TO BEE. Breathe it in, now. And, allow for the idea that maybe there is someone here who you were born to LOVE.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Hibernation is Here
Wow.
I've become a Mama Bear in the short course of just one year.
Although I did contract a bit last winter, life wouldn't really let me rest.
There was a baby, known as the Prosperity Hive, to give birth to.
Like all good labors, she has required intention, time and energy and it has been the most rewarding work of my life. For I finally became a Mama in the process and I am still sinking into the ways of bee-ing a benevolent and abundant Earth Goddess. This past year has taught me so much, especially about Self-Compassion and Empathy - I am eternally grateful for the lessons.
Today, my BodyMind demands that I spend most of my time, not just here in the Hive, but sleeping and resting. Last week, even though I was struggling with my Mind, my Body knew this was for the best. I've been suffering from chronic pain in my left wing, behind my scapula, since the spring, which led to a pinched nerve and my experiencing fleeting numbness in my left bicep/tricep since August. Yes, I'm tired. And, I'm pregnant. Metaphorically speaking, of course! (No actual human babies for this Momma ~ just yet. ; )
A few friends and colleagues even dreamed of my pregnancy during this now past fall. I think it's triplets and they're due around summer 2012. I can't wait for you to meet them. Cora is the most human-looking and sounding of them all. She is very alive for me as I am doing my best to give voice to her story. So, I'm taking care of all of US. Pulling in. Spending a lot of time in my dark cave. Fattening up. Re-membering how to truly just Bee. And, TRUSTING this BodyMind of mine. She knows. "I" am just along for the ride. And, gratefully so. Because INTUITION is telling me to HOLD ON TIGHT and Rest Up. Acceleration is here and 2012 is just around the corner. Our spaceship is blasting off....
I've become a Mama Bear in the short course of just one year.
Although I did contract a bit last winter, life wouldn't really let me rest.
There was a baby, known as the Prosperity Hive, to give birth to.
Like all good labors, she has required intention, time and energy and it has been the most rewarding work of my life. For I finally became a Mama in the process and I am still sinking into the ways of bee-ing a benevolent and abundant Earth Goddess. This past year has taught me so much, especially about Self-Compassion and Empathy - I am eternally grateful for the lessons.
Today, my BodyMind demands that I spend most of my time, not just here in the Hive, but sleeping and resting. Last week, even though I was struggling with my Mind, my Body knew this was for the best. I've been suffering from chronic pain in my left wing, behind my scapula, since the spring, which led to a pinched nerve and my experiencing fleeting numbness in my left bicep/tricep since August. Yes, I'm tired. And, I'm pregnant. Metaphorically speaking, of course! (No actual human babies for this Momma ~ just yet. ; )
A few friends and colleagues even dreamed of my pregnancy during this now past fall. I think it's triplets and they're due around summer 2012. I can't wait for you to meet them. Cora is the most human-looking and sounding of them all. She is very alive for me as I am doing my best to give voice to her story. So, I'm taking care of all of US. Pulling in. Spending a lot of time in my dark cave. Fattening up. Re-membering how to truly just Bee. And, TRUSTING this BodyMind of mine. She knows. "I" am just along for the ride. And, gratefully so. Because INTUITION is telling me to HOLD ON TIGHT and Rest Up. Acceleration is here and 2012 is just around the corner. Our spaceship is blasting off....
Friday, December 9, 2011
Playing BIG
I LOVE PLAYING BIG.
I LOVE DREAMING BIG
and tossing all of my metaphorical chips onto the table for a hand that,
intuition tells me, is spot on.
I LOVE TAKING RISKS
(even though it has taken me a long time to learn how to take the big emotional risks along with the large physical risks that this embodied bee-ing has always relished.)
I love aiming for the Andromeda Galaxy because I figure that landing on the Moon will be just as exciting and wonderful an opporunity.
Also, I love trying. In the end, my BodyMind needs to know that I gave my heart a 110% fightin' chance.
I simply try not to expect an outcome and I cultivate gratitude for wherever I land.
It's the only way forward.
So, playing BIG - what does this look like? It's not just a soundbite. It's not just a word uttered at the end of yoga class, like "Namaste," yet left to bite the dust as the reality of the real world hits.
Playing BIG means digging deep.
It means allowing ourselves to be human and, guess what? There are times when I feel like playing small, by whining about the small stuff, venting, complaining, etc. And, this is okay. I grant myself permission to show up how I need to in the moment because the only thing I can ever know is my own intention. When I want to play small, I let people know that this is what I'm doing - "Hey," I say. "I need to get this off my chest."
However, my intention is LOVE ~ always love. And, this is how I play BIG. By loving myself first and foremost so that when I am feeling "small," I do not simply entertain my own dis-empowerment. Rather, I acknowledge my feelings for what they are. If I am feeling resentful or envious toward another, then I dig deep. "What's going on, Cara?" I ask myself. And the response I usually receive is as to how I have not been showing up in the way that this other is currently embodying.
By noticing this, I challenge myself to take action in my own life so that I can feel good about my own movement through this world. This is what then allows me the space to acknowledge the work, strengths and talents of others.
Yes, I am a highly competitive human being. I LOVE COMPETITION. I love to chase and be chased. I love to play games and win. And, I love to play the coach as I cheer others on to their own winnings.
However, the only person I can ever compete with in this world is ME (especially when we are all just mirror reflections of each other). It is I who truly knows what I am capable of and as to what I am not capable of. By honoring my weaknesses, I can hold your hand in partnership because your strengths help to lift me up. It's so simple.
So, I TRY TO PLAY BIG most of the time. I try to look at you through the gaze of love and compassion. For you are me. And I want you to WIN, to succeed, to be healthy and happy. Sometimes, I am judgmental and ugly and I hope you can forgive me for being human. ; )
Just as I will always forgive you.
There is just no other way to play.
I LOVE DREAMING BIG
and tossing all of my metaphorical chips onto the table for a hand that,
intuition tells me, is spot on.
I LOVE TAKING RISKS
(even though it has taken me a long time to learn how to take the big emotional risks along with the large physical risks that this embodied bee-ing has always relished.)
I love aiming for the Andromeda Galaxy because I figure that landing on the Moon will be just as exciting and wonderful an opporunity.
Also, I love trying. In the end, my BodyMind needs to know that I gave my heart a 110% fightin' chance.
I simply try not to expect an outcome and I cultivate gratitude for wherever I land.
It's the only way forward.
So, playing BIG - what does this look like? It's not just a soundbite. It's not just a word uttered at the end of yoga class, like "Namaste," yet left to bite the dust as the reality of the real world hits.
Playing BIG means digging deep.
It means allowing ourselves to be human and, guess what? There are times when I feel like playing small, by whining about the small stuff, venting, complaining, etc. And, this is okay. I grant myself permission to show up how I need to in the moment because the only thing I can ever know is my own intention. When I want to play small, I let people know that this is what I'm doing - "Hey," I say. "I need to get this off my chest."
However, my intention is LOVE ~ always love. And, this is how I play BIG. By loving myself first and foremost so that when I am feeling "small," I do not simply entertain my own dis-empowerment. Rather, I acknowledge my feelings for what they are. If I am feeling resentful or envious toward another, then I dig deep. "What's going on, Cara?" I ask myself. And the response I usually receive is as to how I have not been showing up in the way that this other is currently embodying.
By noticing this, I challenge myself to take action in my own life so that I can feel good about my own movement through this world. This is what then allows me the space to acknowledge the work, strengths and talents of others.
Yes, I am a highly competitive human being. I LOVE COMPETITION. I love to chase and be chased. I love to play games and win. And, I love to play the coach as I cheer others on to their own winnings.
However, the only person I can ever compete with in this world is ME (especially when we are all just mirror reflections of each other). It is I who truly knows what I am capable of and as to what I am not capable of. By honoring my weaknesses, I can hold your hand in partnership because your strengths help to lift me up. It's so simple.
So, I TRY TO PLAY BIG most of the time. I try to look at you through the gaze of love and compassion. For you are me. And I want you to WIN, to succeed, to be healthy and happy. Sometimes, I am judgmental and ugly and I hope you can forgive me for being human. ; )
Just as I will always forgive you.
There is just no other way to play.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
On Intention & Contextualization
I posted a video to youtube the other day. Maybe you've seen it, & maybe you haven't. I have yet to check back on Facebook to read the responses that have apparently been offered in response to it. The reason for that is because my intention in creating the video was not for attention or for advise. Rather, over the course of the past few years, dear friends from my dance community have taught me about the power of speaking my honest feelings. One night, while sharing community in a conversational circle, I spoke of my deep hurt of having, at that time, been "dumped" by a man that the Universe "accidentally" bumped me into - ours was a head-on, full collision that, to this day, still haunts my dreams. To my amazement, giving honest voice to my pain helped to dis-spell some of the power that was being held in my BodyMind.
Also, truth be told, I have not returned to see what others have to say about the video because, part of me, still fears my own vulnerability. I was raised by a woman who taught me to swallow my feelings, to stuff my e-motion and to cover it all up with food and then purge it, when necessary, with media. Tears were not considered sacred, rather they were something to be embarrassed about. I've always played tough and strong and growing up in my parent's household it was what I had to do to survive the pleasure in pain that both my mother and brother (and, eventually, me) perpetuated. As for my father, he too was cut off from his own feelings - thanks to alcohol, primarily - even though he primarily embodies the gentle nature of the lion.
Learning how to feel again isn't simple. And, what I keep running into is a society that wants me to continue with the misogyny and madness. But I refuse to allow my eyes to look at the front page of the New York Times - where, just today, an image of Afghani women and children are laying in pools of blood as dead and war-torn bodies lay strewn about - and to feel nothing. The pain and suffering in this image is my own! For we are all inextricably connected and what affects one of US, affects all of US.
Until I can feel the pain of Others as my own, I remain detached and cut off from true reality! And, this act - of demonstrating my real emotions without fear and without shame or guilt - is the way that I choose to OCCUPY. It's my singular act of defiance in a culture that endorses a two-dimensional way of bee-ing in a world that is shifting our humanity into resembling more of the robotic nature of the technology that we are creating. Feeling Deeply is my singular act of Rebellion and Defiance. This is my Revolution! And, damn it, I hope you'll join me!
(Fine, here's the video - in case you missed it.)
Also, truth be told, I have not returned to see what others have to say about the video because, part of me, still fears my own vulnerability. I was raised by a woman who taught me to swallow my feelings, to stuff my e-motion and to cover it all up with food and then purge it, when necessary, with media. Tears were not considered sacred, rather they were something to be embarrassed about. I've always played tough and strong and growing up in my parent's household it was what I had to do to survive the pleasure in pain that both my mother and brother (and, eventually, me) perpetuated. As for my father, he too was cut off from his own feelings - thanks to alcohol, primarily - even though he primarily embodies the gentle nature of the lion.
Learning how to feel again isn't simple. And, what I keep running into is a society that wants me to continue with the misogyny and madness. But I refuse to allow my eyes to look at the front page of the New York Times - where, just today, an image of Afghani women and children are laying in pools of blood as dead and war-torn bodies lay strewn about - and to feel nothing. The pain and suffering in this image is my own! For we are all inextricably connected and what affects one of US, affects all of US.
Until I can feel the pain of Others as my own, I remain detached and cut off from true reality! And, this act - of demonstrating my real emotions without fear and without shame or guilt - is the way that I choose to OCCUPY. It's my singular act of defiance in a culture that endorses a two-dimensional way of bee-ing in a world that is shifting our humanity into resembling more of the robotic nature of the technology that we are creating. Feeling Deeply is my singular act of Rebellion and Defiance. This is my Revolution! And, damn it, I hope you'll join me!
(Fine, here's the video - in case you missed it.)
Sunday, December 4, 2011
YOU
call out my name.
"Come," you whisper,
"slide.
On my body,
in my depths,
into my warmth,
my blankets of security.
Allow me to envelop and hold
you,
in my arms,
of satin, of lace,
of whichever you prefer,
wrapped tight within
my bosom, my abode,
ME -
when two can truly become One."
And I call that
an "Ode to My Bed" ; )
(....You're so vain - you probably thought this poem was about YOU.)
(Ok, ok - IT IS! YOU, and U and U & u & u & u & u & u...)
"Come," you whisper,
"slide.
On my body,
in my depths,
into my warmth,
my blankets of security.
Allow me to envelop and hold
you,
in my arms,
of satin, of lace,
of whichever you prefer,
wrapped tight within
my bosom, my abode,
ME -
when two can truly become One."
And I call that
an "Ode to My Bed" ; )
(....You're so vain - you probably thought this poem was about YOU.)
(Ok, ok - IT IS! YOU, and U and U & u & u & u & u & u...)
Friday, December 2, 2011
On Death & Dying
I've been tickled pink by the appearance of a new, lovely other in my life. She actively discovered her gift for drumming on an evening when she showed up inside of the Hive's comforting, yellow walls. On this night, she walked in to discover a small group of us playing underneath a 100' long piece of white, sheath fabric. I recall her entrance and how she first appeared quiet and reserved. It took her a few, long moments to sink into the "Honey" (as she likes to call it) before she emerged as "RadSab" and we've been enjoying sacred moments in time together ever since.
She refers to the Hive as my "Dojo" and actively inquires as to why I am the way I am. "Well, I guess it all began with my birth in Canada," is how I respond. "Born into a small community, we closed off the one entrance and exit into our circular neighborhood every summer when we would create our own Olympic games." Community is what I've always known, hence it is a value of prime importance in my life. When my family made the proverbial cross-country road trip and migrated to So Cal, we naturally recreated what had been our "normal."
Our neighbors in Oceanside/Vista, became our tribe and I am so grateful for it. Canada may have introduced us/me to community however, San Diego enlivened this notion with the exotic scents and the pageantry of colors that my new neighbors represented. From Palestine to Mexico, I enjoyed the taste of fresh-baked pita bread from my neighbors next door as well as the smells of traditional plates from Jalisco that wafted throughout the house across the street. In this BodyMind of mine, TRIBE must reflect the diverse cornucopia of people that America so boldly represents.
So, yesterday, I attended the mass and memorial of the Sicilian father who had kept a tight ship in that house across the street. It had been way too long since I had visited with his two children, both of who, of course, have families of their own. And, all I could feel when I looked upon their beautiful children was US in the early 80s and how familia is what makes life worth living. Also, our very real mortality is just the perspective check that I have been needing. With my head a little too far up my butt of late, I appreciated the opportunity to remember who I am at my core.
During this holiday season, I will make it a point to reach out to my elders - from my neighbors who still live next door to my parents, in the house I grew up in, to the seniors at Cathedral Arms in Hillcrest. Yesterday was a sweet reminder that the only thing we really have is "time" - as in this moment, now. Postponing living until tomorrow isn't a wise investment because the day after just might not come. And I, personally, have got a whole lotta LOVE to give - so I reckon I'll commence now.
I LOVE YOU.
She refers to the Hive as my "Dojo" and actively inquires as to why I am the way I am. "Well, I guess it all began with my birth in Canada," is how I respond. "Born into a small community, we closed off the one entrance and exit into our circular neighborhood every summer when we would create our own Olympic games." Community is what I've always known, hence it is a value of prime importance in my life. When my family made the proverbial cross-country road trip and migrated to So Cal, we naturally recreated what had been our "normal."
Our neighbors in Oceanside/Vista, became our tribe and I am so grateful for it. Canada may have introduced us/me to community however, San Diego enlivened this notion with the exotic scents and the pageantry of colors that my new neighbors represented. From Palestine to Mexico, I enjoyed the taste of fresh-baked pita bread from my neighbors next door as well as the smells of traditional plates from Jalisco that wafted throughout the house across the street. In this BodyMind of mine, TRIBE must reflect the diverse cornucopia of people that America so boldly represents.
So, yesterday, I attended the mass and memorial of the Sicilian father who had kept a tight ship in that house across the street. It had been way too long since I had visited with his two children, both of who, of course, have families of their own. And, all I could feel when I looked upon their beautiful children was US in the early 80s and how familia is what makes life worth living. Also, our very real mortality is just the perspective check that I have been needing. With my head a little too far up my butt of late, I appreciated the opportunity to remember who I am at my core.
During this holiday season, I will make it a point to reach out to my elders - from my neighbors who still live next door to my parents, in the house I grew up in, to the seniors at Cathedral Arms in Hillcrest. Yesterday was a sweet reminder that the only thing we really have is "time" - as in this moment, now. Postponing living until tomorrow isn't a wise investment because the day after just might not come. And I, personally, have got a whole lotta LOVE to give - so I reckon I'll commence now.
I LOVE YOU.
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