So, I get a good night's rest and wake up, early, to face another day.
To write and to build forward.
To return home, to face the death and tend to it.
"I can feel you - your heart is sad," Has says, as we busily move around one another -
worker bees tending to the dismantling of our hive, before flying off to create another.
"Yes, I feel all of this," I respond. "And, I'm so tired of this pattern," I lament, speaking into a year of so much loss - the loss of lives as well as the loss of community spaces.
And, yet, this time IS different.
The three of us Soul sisters merrily chirp, singing along to countless replays of Matty and Avasa Love, as we flutter about our day of cleaning, moving and boxing. We toast "Salud!" over beers when a torrential downpour opens up the San Diego sky with its brilliant hues of blue, gray and black. We share a singular plata of tres tamales con maiz. We help one another with the lifting, selling and transforming.
Going through her old things, Has pulls out a dusty photo album, its paper photographs dating back to days spent in the Armenian countryside with her family. Shedding fat tears, she weeps for those who are no longer with us, specifically her father. Holding space by being fully present to her past, I smooth the hair our of her face. "He is with us, right this very moment," I whisper into her ear, "and he is so proud of you for being on your big girl way - a lawyer moving up to the Bay Area to tend to legal business." In my actions, I rest in the satisfaction of knowing that one day, very soon, another will hold space for me - for the tales I have to share with those closest to my heart.
"I am so grateful for this experience," Mari says. "Here's to our last 'queens of the round table' meeting in this amazing kitchen, and here's to many more for years to come - wherever life finds us!"
This time IS different.
Just wait.
2013
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
MAGIC LOVE, too
A twinkle in the eye.
Cassiopeia, with her striking glint, reaches the soft spot within Orion's hardened core.
26,000 years is a mighty long time.
Will we have to wait
again?
Passion dances, like waves,
currents of a force so great
yet invisible to the eye
and but a brief flicker to the unfeeling,
to the disbelieving.
It's no wonder this MAGIC LOVE gets lost.
26,000 years is a mighty long time.
This alignment too potent to ignore,
yet too powerful to acknowledge,
so we pretend
and time marches on. Rain falls overhead,
rivers of tears carve their swath back to the great Pacific.
26,000 years.
And, per chance it is all just story,
a vibrant yarn and an entertaining tale
to tell. Perhaps, this is all it ever is.
26,000 years to be remembered and retold,
over and over again.
Our destiny isn't just written in the numbers,
etched in stone and recorded on paper tablets.
It's in the annals of the future - lining the information
superhighway with its ups and downs, rights and lefts,
"Whoops" and "Gotchas." And it's where this present exists -
forever unfolding, a gift always ready and waiting to be received.
Do you receive?
26,000 years is a mighty long time.
Still, I'd chance it,
time after time again.
Cassiopeia, with her striking glint, reaches the soft spot within Orion's hardened core.
26,000 years is a mighty long time.
Will we have to wait
again?
Passion dances, like waves,
currents of a force so great
yet invisible to the eye
and but a brief flicker to the unfeeling,
to the disbelieving.
It's no wonder this MAGIC LOVE gets lost.
26,000 years is a mighty long time.
This alignment too potent to ignore,
yet too powerful to acknowledge,
so we pretend
and time marches on. Rain falls overhead,
rivers of tears carve their swath back to the great Pacific.
26,000 years.
And, per chance it is all just story,
a vibrant yarn and an entertaining tale
to tell. Perhaps, this is all it ever is.
26,000 years to be remembered and retold,
over and over again.
Our destiny isn't just written in the numbers,
etched in stone and recorded on paper tablets.
It's in the annals of the future - lining the information
superhighway with its ups and downs, rights and lefts,
"Whoops" and "Gotchas." And it's where this present exists -
forever unfolding, a gift always ready and waiting to be received.
Do you receive?
26,000 years is a mighty long time.
Still, I'd chance it,
time after time again.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
a tired death
I'm tired.
Physically, yes, from a late night spent listening to the sounds of harmony and celebration, as they filled our sweet Edwardian Victorian home, while I lay upstairs, feeling unwell in my expansive bed. And, I'm emotionally tired, too. Tired of all of the movement (shockingly). Yes, I am grateful, as ever, for the opportunity to purge more of the stuff that can accumulate like dust in my life. And, still, my meager amount of things feels like a damn ball and chain. "I just want to fly," my Spirit screams. Nonetheless, I move through the motions of this American life - "getting rid" of a lot, boxing up other items and moving them back into storage (Again! Grrrr....). There's also some sadness in here, too. 2012 has been a year of death.
I stopped in to see a neighbor of my parent's this past week. Growing up next to her Palestinian-Lebanese family, I discovered comfort in the pungent aromas of fresh baked pita bread that permeated their house. Over the past four months, she lost her youngest son to his four-year fight with brain cancer as well as her ailing husband who simply gave up after their beloved Charlie died. I sat with her in a quiet family room, remembering all of the vibrant life that had once filled that house. It was the eerie silence that feels so abnormal. Death is natural. What isn't normal is the way we have distanced ourselves from its presence. I endeavor to live in a diverse village where people are born and die - the revolving door of life's sweet miracles swingin' as I dance merrily to its beat.
Today, a group of five beautiful, young women stopped in to Las Raices to check out the property after they saw it advertised for rent on craigslist. "We want to create a feminine collective," they said, and all Has and I could do was to look at each other and grin. That's the thing about planting seeds - we can't dictate how they will bloom, we can only intend that they will burst forth and produce life. "A tangerine and lemon tree!" one of the women exclaimed, as they were checking out the back yard. "If you only knew," I thought to myself, as I reflected on the Owl Medicine that we buried under the Lemon Tree in October and our dearest Buckbeat, who we laid to rest under the Tangerine tree in November.
The past six months have been exactly what my Spirit has needed. Sinking into sisterhood in my daily intimacies with my housemates and, then, claiming my healing by declaring my Medicine Woman ways has been a goddess-send. Last night, when I quietly wandered around the party at our house, many of our peers kept asking me what I am up to come the New Year. "I am open," is my less complicated response - yet, all I know is that I am ready to burst out of my own self-imposed shell. I've been willingly trapped in here for far too long now. Thus, I build forward, with my head down, intending my destiny as I've always dreamed it and beeyond!
Physically, yes, from a late night spent listening to the sounds of harmony and celebration, as they filled our sweet Edwardian Victorian home, while I lay upstairs, feeling unwell in my expansive bed. And, I'm emotionally tired, too. Tired of all of the movement (shockingly). Yes, I am grateful, as ever, for the opportunity to purge more of the stuff that can accumulate like dust in my life. And, still, my meager amount of things feels like a damn ball and chain. "I just want to fly," my Spirit screams. Nonetheless, I move through the motions of this American life - "getting rid" of a lot, boxing up other items and moving them back into storage (Again! Grrrr....). There's also some sadness in here, too. 2012 has been a year of death.
I stopped in to see a neighbor of my parent's this past week. Growing up next to her Palestinian-Lebanese family, I discovered comfort in the pungent aromas of fresh baked pita bread that permeated their house. Over the past four months, she lost her youngest son to his four-year fight with brain cancer as well as her ailing husband who simply gave up after their beloved Charlie died. I sat with her in a quiet family room, remembering all of the vibrant life that had once filled that house. It was the eerie silence that feels so abnormal. Death is natural. What isn't normal is the way we have distanced ourselves from its presence. I endeavor to live in a diverse village where people are born and die - the revolving door of life's sweet miracles swingin' as I dance merrily to its beat.
Today, a group of five beautiful, young women stopped in to Las Raices to check out the property after they saw it advertised for rent on craigslist. "We want to create a feminine collective," they said, and all Has and I could do was to look at each other and grin. That's the thing about planting seeds - we can't dictate how they will bloom, we can only intend that they will burst forth and produce life. "A tangerine and lemon tree!" one of the women exclaimed, as they were checking out the back yard. "If you only knew," I thought to myself, as I reflected on the Owl Medicine that we buried under the Lemon Tree in October and our dearest Buckbeat, who we laid to rest under the Tangerine tree in November.
The past six months have been exactly what my Spirit has needed. Sinking into sisterhood in my daily intimacies with my housemates and, then, claiming my healing by declaring my Medicine Woman ways has been a goddess-send. Last night, when I quietly wandered around the party at our house, many of our peers kept asking me what I am up to come the New Year. "I am open," is my less complicated response - yet, all I know is that I am ready to burst out of my own self-imposed shell. I've been willingly trapped in here for far too long now. Thus, I build forward, with my head down, intending my destiny as I've always dreamed it and beeyond!
Friday, December 28, 2012
MAGIC LOVE
"Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and
unless that affinity is created in a moment,
it will not be created for years or even generations."
--Kahlil Gibran
It's the most potent force known to MAN. Nothing can ever destroy it. It's what we both leave behind and take with us. It's LOVE. It's all my Spirit has ever dreamed of and hoped for. And, then, there were too many years trying to hide and pretend like it wasn't a desperate need; too much time spent hoarding my heart's song or, even worse, greedily taking the sweet melody from others without offering anything in return. LOVE.
And, true to form, the pattern repeats, karma is a bitch and you pretend like this is all meaning-less.
Damn you.
So, I am in LOVE with you and it is no fun. "But I don't use words like LOVE, 'cuz words like that don't matter, but don't look so offended, you know you should be flattered. And I wake up in the night, in some big hotel bed, my hands grasp for the light, my hands grasp for my head, and the world is my oyster, the road is my home, and I know I am better, I am better, I am better off alone."
These are actually Ani DiFranco's words. Ain't nothing like a Righteous Babe to keep my eyes on the prize and to continually remind myself that I can build my own empire "out of car tires and chicken wire." So, I build forward
without you
and it is no fun.
AWAKE
Listen, friends,
one of my truths is that I've been asleep - deeply asleep -
for years now.
I even wrote a poem about it -
"the Sleeper," it's called. I spoke it aloud & "danced" a performance art piece to it back in fall 2010 at North Park's Bluefoot Bar. (I wasn't a hit that night, to say the least. ; )
However, in preparation of "Love Notes from God," my love-book of select poetry and other found objects due out JANUARY 1st, 2013, I only recently re-wrote the last stanza (to reflect my own evolutionary movement from being asleep to waking).
It goes a little like this:
"...the sexy truth is that what remains is within
it is within
and I am
awake."
The past few months have, specifically, been illuminating just how potent of a medicine STORY is. The more I write about LIFE, the more it becomes a REALITY. So, I've re-written the past.
It began today with my visit to the DMV to replace ID cards from a wallet that disappeared back in August, then I dropped in on the Superior Court to tend to a ticket from January 2011 that had my driver's license suspended. Also included were trips into bank(s) for debit cards from the stolen wallet, and I'm only beginning to clean up the mess that all of my sleeping has created. I have had my head so far up my butt - living like my life was of little value, making a joke of all of it while simultaneously resisting everything. I've cut swaths of destruction along my path.
And, still, last night, as I stopped to walk under that powerful moon out on the land where I was bitten by that fateful rattlesnake, I was overcome with a deep sense of knowing that everything, up until now, has been absolutely perfect and that, on this planet, there is not one hair out of place - even with all of the suffering and the pain. This embodied feeling dropped me to my knees and had me caught up in the throes of wailing. FUCK! Holding space for all of it - for ALL OF LIFE - is deep shit.
So, I pull up in front of Las Raices today and I reflect on the loss of a beloved community space once more, as well as the transition into what's to come, yet again. AND, I also remembered how my soul sisters and I - six of us - sat together in powerful intention setting while breaking bread and enjoying conversation on that seminal June 5th, 2012 day when Venus transited Mars and when we committed to our personal healing as our collective goal. Thus, I've spent 2012 healing my broken ass and though it wasn't until these last few weeks that I really understood just how crazy, imbalanced and cuckoo I am, I've now claimed my healing.
Encouraged to work with the medicine of FORGIVENESS for this month has been the icing on the cake.
It all came down to this:
Can I forgive myself for how I've been running from my destiny, cowering in the dark and hiding under the covers?
YES!
Can I forgive you?
YES! (Yes, yes, yes, yes.)
Now,
can you forgive me?
I hope so, because it's our only way forward.
one of my truths is that I've been asleep - deeply asleep -
for years now.
I even wrote a poem about it -
"the Sleeper," it's called. I spoke it aloud & "danced" a performance art piece to it back in fall 2010 at North Park's Bluefoot Bar. (I wasn't a hit that night, to say the least. ; )
However, in preparation of "Love Notes from God," my love-book of select poetry and other found objects due out JANUARY 1st, 2013, I only recently re-wrote the last stanza (to reflect my own evolutionary movement from being asleep to waking).
It goes a little like this:
"...the sexy truth is that what remains is within
it is within
and I am
awake."
The past few months have, specifically, been illuminating just how potent of a medicine STORY is. The more I write about LIFE, the more it becomes a REALITY. So, I've re-written the past.
It began today with my visit to the DMV to replace ID cards from a wallet that disappeared back in August, then I dropped in on the Superior Court to tend to a ticket from January 2011 that had my driver's license suspended. Also included were trips into bank(s) for debit cards from the stolen wallet, and I'm only beginning to clean up the mess that all of my sleeping has created. I have had my head so far up my butt - living like my life was of little value, making a joke of all of it while simultaneously resisting everything. I've cut swaths of destruction along my path.
And, still, last night, as I stopped to walk under that powerful moon out on the land where I was bitten by that fateful rattlesnake, I was overcome with a deep sense of knowing that everything, up until now, has been absolutely perfect and that, on this planet, there is not one hair out of place - even with all of the suffering and the pain. This embodied feeling dropped me to my knees and had me caught up in the throes of wailing. FUCK! Holding space for all of it - for ALL OF LIFE - is deep shit.
So, I pull up in front of Las Raices today and I reflect on the loss of a beloved community space once more, as well as the transition into what's to come, yet again. AND, I also remembered how my soul sisters and I - six of us - sat together in powerful intention setting while breaking bread and enjoying conversation on that seminal June 5th, 2012 day when Venus transited Mars and when we committed to our personal healing as our collective goal. Thus, I've spent 2012 healing my broken ass and though it wasn't until these last few weeks that I really understood just how crazy, imbalanced and cuckoo I am, I've now claimed my healing.
Encouraged to work with the medicine of FORGIVENESS for this month has been the icing on the cake.
It all came down to this:
Can I forgive myself for how I've been running from my destiny, cowering in the dark and hiding under the covers?
YES!
Can I forgive you?
YES! (Yes, yes, yes, yes.)
Now,
can you forgive me?
I hope so, because it's our only way forward.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
FULL MOON ramblins'
The Last Full Moon of this Gregorian Calendar Year of 2012 is Upon Us.
The Shamanic calendar the I refer to often offered this:
"The Full Moon is Friday, December 28, at 3:21 AM Mountain Standard Time. Stay close to home and be nurtured. Feed your security with some simple things that make you feel safe, protected and supported. Work with the element of fire as a life giving force. Small intimate gatherings are preferable to large ones for this moon.
After the current intensity and the internal preparation for the Solstice time, this time up until the New Year may feel anti-climactic. Watch a tendency towards being intolerant, irritable or short with others around their neediness. Set your boundaries in a loving way and serve through the example of your own inner work instead of getting preachy about what you think is right. Keep as neutral as you can, stay out of Martyrdom and be patient with those who are still in it.
In the aftermath of the Solstice as a marker for change, it is more important than ever to put some quality focus on creating your intentions and goals not just for the beginning of 2013 but for the dream you have of the world you wish to see." www.thepowerpath.com
So, yeah, I've been naturally finding myself pulling in, wanting to be alone and focusing on my own intentions and goals. 2012 was quite a time and I usually find myself becoming nostalgic over another year's passing right about now. Perhaps, I'll write a post about wrapping up this year over the next few days. Until then, join me for keeping it simple, warm and safe.
We're having a last hurrah soiree at Las Raices tomorrow night - I'm hoping it will stay relatively small, so I am not putting a lot of energy into promoting the evening. Instead, I think we'll put the suggestion of using FIRE to work then. Let's keep burning off the flames of our past destruction as we intend for a sweet, healthy balance moving forward into 2013. ; )
The Shamanic calendar the I refer to often offered this:
"The Full Moon is Friday, December 28, at 3:21 AM Mountain Standard Time. Stay close to home and be nurtured. Feed your security with some simple things that make you feel safe, protected and supported. Work with the element of fire as a life giving force. Small intimate gatherings are preferable to large ones for this moon.
After the current intensity and the internal preparation for the Solstice time, this time up until the New Year may feel anti-climactic. Watch a tendency towards being intolerant, irritable or short with others around their neediness. Set your boundaries in a loving way and serve through the example of your own inner work instead of getting preachy about what you think is right. Keep as neutral as you can, stay out of Martyrdom and be patient with those who are still in it.
In the aftermath of the Solstice as a marker for change, it is more important than ever to put some quality focus on creating your intentions and goals not just for the beginning of 2013 but for the dream you have of the world you wish to see." www.thepowerpath.com
So, yeah, I've been naturally finding myself pulling in, wanting to be alone and focusing on my own intentions and goals. 2012 was quite a time and I usually find myself becoming nostalgic over another year's passing right about now. Perhaps, I'll write a post about wrapping up this year over the next few days. Until then, join me for keeping it simple, warm and safe.
We're having a last hurrah soiree at Las Raices tomorrow night - I'm hoping it will stay relatively small, so I am not putting a lot of energy into promoting the evening. Instead, I think we'll put the suggestion of using FIRE to work then. Let's keep burning off the flames of our past destruction as we intend for a sweet, healthy balance moving forward into 2013. ; )
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
BOXING DAY 2012
I wasn't sure what I was going to write about tonight.
Nothing I could think of felt "right."
I guess I was feeling a bit off, myself.
Sitting with all of the movement that remains ongoing is quite a task.
We're soaking up the remaining days of our time spent together at Las Raices and I am going to miss my daily intimacies with both Has & Mari. (As Has dropped me off in North County today, I reflected on how Kenzie's departure two-months back feels like a lifetime ago now.) The three of us have been around our shared Victorian over the past few days of merry, holiday cheer.
Bringing one of them along with me to a sweet Xmas eve dinner where Has, with her Armenian background and lawyer title, was quite the popular guest. ; ) After playing countless rounds of singles and doubles indoor volley-soccer (a soon-to-be Olympic sport), we retired to the 'fancy room' where we read to each other our character makeup defined by our individual days of birth as located on the Mayan calendar.
There's such a poignancy to this now - a deep sense of both change and constancy. "Destiny," I like to call it and, naturally, it's written in the stars for me to seek out both dreamtime as well as my soul mates. My reading advised that I pay attention to and record my dreams. "I've been intuitively doing that since I was a little girl," my insides chimed in response.
So, that night, I dreamed about an owl-like human, who was sitting on a panel of judges or experts for some thing but I could not recall what or why. What I did remember, however, is how, when I was introduced to the large owl creature, I immediately wanted to share with my waking friends what I was dreaming about, right then and there. Next came a baby snake and my desire to once again be bitten - I wanted initiation, rebirth! Wielding the snake like a short whip, I was in the act of self-flagellation. (The symbolism of this dream feels quite clear to me now that I am writing about it.)
I've simply never believed that anything is "random," or without meaning. There's purpose to all of it and the more I attune my senses to the mystery of all that is, the more I am absolutely bowled over by the magnificence, LOVE and brilliance of the Universe. It happened tonight. Currently, I am in a "funky" place - located somewhere between all that has come before and all that is to come, I am hovering over 'the Brink' that I first wrote about in my 2009 graduate thesis. So, I am driving near Calaveras, where I was bitten by that snake in March, and the theme for "Footloose" comes over the airwaves of the radio station that I am "haphazardly" flipping across.
Focusing on my writing of late, I've specifically written about this song - about how it first came into my life. I will share this with you soon. What I will type is that, when I heard it tonight, my bodymind was flooded with sensations. Tears welled up in my eyes because I felt as though I was receiving the most beautiful gift - an invisible pat on the back, saying, "Yes, Cara, you are in tune"- and I felt all of the embodied memories of this lifetime now - the confusion and the chaos, the pain and the trauma, as well as all of the splendid celebration, the dance and the song, the sweet laughter and the beautiful light. The miracle of movement! So, I rocked out as hard as I could, sitting there behind the driving wheel and I remembered it all!!!!!!!
Nothing I could think of felt "right."
I guess I was feeling a bit off, myself.
Sitting with all of the movement that remains ongoing is quite a task.
We're soaking up the remaining days of our time spent together at Las Raices and I am going to miss my daily intimacies with both Has & Mari. (As Has dropped me off in North County today, I reflected on how Kenzie's departure two-months back feels like a lifetime ago now.) The three of us have been around our shared Victorian over the past few days of merry, holiday cheer.
Bringing one of them along with me to a sweet Xmas eve dinner where Has, with her Armenian background and lawyer title, was quite the popular guest. ; ) After playing countless rounds of singles and doubles indoor volley-soccer (a soon-to-be Olympic sport), we retired to the 'fancy room' where we read to each other our character makeup defined by our individual days of birth as located on the Mayan calendar.
There's such a poignancy to this now - a deep sense of both change and constancy. "Destiny," I like to call it and, naturally, it's written in the stars for me to seek out both dreamtime as well as my soul mates. My reading advised that I pay attention to and record my dreams. "I've been intuitively doing that since I was a little girl," my insides chimed in response.
So, that night, I dreamed about an owl-like human, who was sitting on a panel of judges or experts for some thing but I could not recall what or why. What I did remember, however, is how, when I was introduced to the large owl creature, I immediately wanted to share with my waking friends what I was dreaming about, right then and there. Next came a baby snake and my desire to once again be bitten - I wanted initiation, rebirth! Wielding the snake like a short whip, I was in the act of self-flagellation. (The symbolism of this dream feels quite clear to me now that I am writing about it.)
I've simply never believed that anything is "random," or without meaning. There's purpose to all of it and the more I attune my senses to the mystery of all that is, the more I am absolutely bowled over by the magnificence, LOVE and brilliance of the Universe. It happened tonight. Currently, I am in a "funky" place - located somewhere between all that has come before and all that is to come, I am hovering over 'the Brink' that I first wrote about in my 2009 graduate thesis. So, I am driving near Calaveras, where I was bitten by that snake in March, and the theme for "Footloose" comes over the airwaves of the radio station that I am "haphazardly" flipping across.
Focusing on my writing of late, I've specifically written about this song - about how it first came into my life. I will share this with you soon. What I will type is that, when I heard it tonight, my bodymind was flooded with sensations. Tears welled up in my eyes because I felt as though I was receiving the most beautiful gift - an invisible pat on the back, saying, "Yes, Cara, you are in tune"- and I felt all of the embodied memories of this lifetime now - the confusion and the chaos, the pain and the trauma, as well as all of the splendid celebration, the dance and the song, the sweet laughter and the beautiful light. The miracle of movement! So, I rocked out as hard as I could, sitting there behind the driving wheel and I remembered it all!!!!!!!
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Merry Christmas 2012
I missed you yesterday. "You" who remains a faceless yet collective consciousness, reading my words from places like Russia, Latvia, the UK, Germany, Canada and more. Knowing "you" are out there (here), and psychically feeling your eyes, keeps me keepin' on - especially as I ride my bicycle and then stroll through these quiet, downtown San Diego city streets on just another day. Christmas in America is here - a singular moment in time when life actually slows down (just a smidge). JUST ONE DAY.
On Christmas Eve, as energy coursed through my veins, I reflected on the metaphor of these times - Joseph wearily finding shelter to step out of the elements into, in order to bring light into the world; Mary giving birth to new creation, a gift to the planet; pushing through the long night; honoring the bitter cold and biting winds of twilight; and allowing faith to guide us, during these darkest hours, just before the dawn.
RECLAMATION (is here).
So, I walked with my most trusted companions of meditation and gratitude at my side and this is what came as I also channeled the sexual energy that courses through my body:
RECLAMATION
Yeah, I got curves,
and I got weight and mass, too,
'cuz I'm bending time and space around me
ripplin' LOVE
like waves
bobbin' and ebbin'
to distant shores,
yeah I got curves.
A gravitational force
too potent to ignore
too deep to destroy
too wide to miss
yeah I got curves.
And I'm sending out these electric pulsations
short and sweet, bitter and profane,
breathy and spacious,
yeah, i got curves.
And I am bowling you over,
knocking you down,
your erect sterility my victory to claim,
I got curves.
And I am a rockin' and a rollin',
a moving and a grooving,
stirring
this ancestral pot
the womb of our collective consciousness
yeah, I got curves.
And I am sitting on your symbols,
swallowing them whole,
snuffing out the flames of our past destruction,
yeah, I got curves.
And I am rippin' and tearin'
openin' and contractin',
birthing new worlds,
bringing light to the dark
giving breath to life,
I GOT CURVES.
(pa-dow. wait till you see me now. comin' at ya LIVE - in the red dress & all.......)
On Christmas Eve, as energy coursed through my veins, I reflected on the metaphor of these times - Joseph wearily finding shelter to step out of the elements into, in order to bring light into the world; Mary giving birth to new creation, a gift to the planet; pushing through the long night; honoring the bitter cold and biting winds of twilight; and allowing faith to guide us, during these darkest hours, just before the dawn.
RECLAMATION (is here).
So, I walked with my most trusted companions of meditation and gratitude at my side and this is what came as I also channeled the sexual energy that courses through my body:
RECLAMATION
Yeah, I got curves,
and I got weight and mass, too,
'cuz I'm bending time and space around me
ripplin' LOVE
like waves
bobbin' and ebbin'
to distant shores,
yeah I got curves.
A gravitational force
too potent to ignore
too deep to destroy
too wide to miss
yeah I got curves.
And I'm sending out these electric pulsations
short and sweet, bitter and profane,
breathy and spacious,
yeah, i got curves.
And I am bowling you over,
knocking you down,
your erect sterility my victory to claim,
I got curves.
And I am a rockin' and a rollin',
a moving and a grooving,
stirring
this ancestral pot
the womb of our collective consciousness
yeah, I got curves.
And I am sitting on your symbols,
swallowing them whole,
snuffing out the flames of our past destruction,
yeah, I got curves.
And I am rippin' and tearin'
openin' and contractin',
birthing new worlds,
bringing light to the dark
giving breath to life,
I GOT CURVES.
(pa-dow. wait till you see me now. comin' at ya LIVE - in the red dress & all.......)
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Lovers, Brothers and Sisters, II
Lately, others are remarking as to how centered, calm and peaceful I feel. Yes, there's been growth in my personal development, no doubt, AND I have been discovering my sanity by really allowing myself to receive LOVE from others. Specifically, I look into the warm, open eyes of a few of my sisters/best friends, and I feel deep, feminine LOVE reflected right back to me as I also see gorgeous, powerful women who come from an Earth-based ethos that values family and friendship. Though our dark features are similar in resemblance, we come more recently from farther stretches of the globe - Armenia, Mexico City and Pakistan. Basking in our relating, I carry with me the profound knowledge that who I am at my core - open and inquiring, honest and caring, loving and nurturing - is truly something quite spectacular.
In our sisterhood, I've come to realize that my ability to give and receive love to and from my brothers is just as vital a need in my life. I must offer my sweet affection to my brothers, without fear of what it could mean or where it could lead just, as I do with my sisters. It is essential to my well-being that I respect men just as I do women. The more I eschew upon how we are each Kings and Queens, the more I've been experiencing this kind of relating with men. Naturally, I am drawing to myself others who also want to deepen and connect by letting go of their past patterns of relating to woman as object, for example, and who are, instead, entering into divine moments of relating that are LOVING simply because this is our nature, not because of what outcome could result. Together, we offer each other our individual medicine as we also practice for the moments when "right" timing and circumstance unfolds and our royal counterparts dance right into our lives.
On 12/21/2012, I talked about the subject of LOVE with two of my brothers. "Possession isn't LOVE," R. emphatically stated. And, I agreed, proclaiming "I need to be free and wild." He continued, "I want to be open to what life can bring yet, even though I usually run in the other direction when a woman mentions the m-word, monogamy is ultimately what I want." So, I reflect on how I've been calling in "my" King and I recognize that, really, what I want is our King - a leader for the people, by the people, who is benevolent and kind. I have also continued to hear my peers perpetuate the silly human desire to sculpt "the One." "I just want a good, kind man whom I can share my bed and sex life with," is my immediate response when my sisters get caught up in defining what clothes he wears, what he looks like or how he acts - "A true huMAN - humble, humorous, and full of a lightness of being that allows for the totality of life on planet Earth!"
In our sisterhood, I've come to realize that my ability to give and receive love to and from my brothers is just as vital a need in my life. I must offer my sweet affection to my brothers, without fear of what it could mean or where it could lead just, as I do with my sisters. It is essential to my well-being that I respect men just as I do women. The more I eschew upon how we are each Kings and Queens, the more I've been experiencing this kind of relating with men. Naturally, I am drawing to myself others who also want to deepen and connect by letting go of their past patterns of relating to woman as object, for example, and who are, instead, entering into divine moments of relating that are LOVING simply because this is our nature, not because of what outcome could result. Together, we offer each other our individual medicine as we also practice for the moments when "right" timing and circumstance unfolds and our royal counterparts dance right into our lives.
On 12/21/2012, I talked about the subject of LOVE with two of my brothers. "Possession isn't LOVE," R. emphatically stated. And, I agreed, proclaiming "I need to be free and wild." He continued, "I want to be open to what life can bring yet, even though I usually run in the other direction when a woman mentions the m-word, monogamy is ultimately what I want." So, I reflect on how I've been calling in "my" King and I recognize that, really, what I want is our King - a leader for the people, by the people, who is benevolent and kind. I have also continued to hear my peers perpetuate the silly human desire to sculpt "the One." "I just want a good, kind man whom I can share my bed and sex life with," is my immediate response when my sisters get caught up in defining what clothes he wears, what he looks like or how he acts - "A true huMAN - humble, humorous, and full of a lightness of being that allows for the totality of life on planet Earth!"
Lovers, Brothers and Sisters
One of my favorite memories from the last few months involves my walking down, seven blocks or so, to a house on Sherman Heights where, in the backyard on a Sunday evening, I sat around a blazing fire with a group of fifteen San Diego creatives who remembered the power of simple story telling. Our circle began with the wonderful song & dance embodiment of the tale of Osiris and Isis by local goth & steampunk starlet Zoe Tantrum. Zoe's lilting voice, rising with the passion of a woman's wrath over the death of her brother, as well as the simultaneous loss of her lover, and falling with the fluidity of the sands of time as the snake slithers and the bird flies across a desert sky was punctuated by syncopated metallic beats, floating reed sounds and a consistent rattling shaker. And I was entranced.
On this evening, I was joined by a few of my brothers: one, the lead singer of a hip world-fusion band, prepared his story - a yarn from his past, complete with props and all! - ahead of time; the other, a successful PhD professor and author well known in the Burning Man community, recited the tale of Maya, from the ancient Hinduism Philosophy that he has spent years researching. I, on the other hand, felt nervous. I challenged myself to not prepare ahead and to, instead, practice sharpening my improvisational, off-the-cuff story telling skills. Which, I admit, are quite rough around the edges!
Yet, as you maybe aware of, what I know is what I write. I write "the truth" as Regal once said. So, this is what I speak into, as well. "This is a story about a time when hope was nearly lost," I began.
Here is what I wrote in a blogpost a few days after the telling. But what I wrote after the fact wasn't really what I said. Instead, I kept my soliloquy relatively short, by simply stating that the artists, lovers, healers and human beings (musicians, dancers, poets and singers) coming out of their shells to tell story, while encouraging others to join them in doing so, were ushering in a period of the great remembering and that this tale was, right now, in the process of being told so, "let it be told." Then, I passed my talking stick to the person on my right.
On this night, I crashed and burned in terms of my delivery and performance. Instead of aiming to be the best story teller, I took a risk by being vulnerable. In the process, I failed at ascending that evening's social hierarchy. It's never fun to be waved off, as though my strengths and gifts are somehow less than. And, granted, it is I who can control how I choose to respond in every given moment - someone's "rejection" of me, is simply a reflection of either their own rejection of themselves or a reflection of my sense of self. Allowing myself to "fail" and then sitting in the face of my own disappointment is healthy. It is a practice that keeps my ego in check. Fall down, climb up, take the reigns, lead, fall down, get back up again. We could all use to implement this medicine into our day-to-day lives more often.
On this evening, I was joined by a few of my brothers: one, the lead singer of a hip world-fusion band, prepared his story - a yarn from his past, complete with props and all! - ahead of time; the other, a successful PhD professor and author well known in the Burning Man community, recited the tale of Maya, from the ancient Hinduism Philosophy that he has spent years researching. I, on the other hand, felt nervous. I challenged myself to not prepare ahead and to, instead, practice sharpening my improvisational, off-the-cuff story telling skills. Which, I admit, are quite rough around the edges!
Yet, as you maybe aware of, what I know is what I write. I write "the truth" as Regal once said. So, this is what I speak into, as well. "This is a story about a time when hope was nearly lost," I began.
Here is what I wrote in a blogpost a few days after the telling. But what I wrote after the fact wasn't really what I said. Instead, I kept my soliloquy relatively short, by simply stating that the artists, lovers, healers and human beings (musicians, dancers, poets and singers) coming out of their shells to tell story, while encouraging others to join them in doing so, were ushering in a period of the great remembering and that this tale was, right now, in the process of being told so, "let it be told." Then, I passed my talking stick to the person on my right.
On this night, I crashed and burned in terms of my delivery and performance. Instead of aiming to be the best story teller, I took a risk by being vulnerable. In the process, I failed at ascending that evening's social hierarchy. It's never fun to be waved off, as though my strengths and gifts are somehow less than. And, granted, it is I who can control how I choose to respond in every given moment - someone's "rejection" of me, is simply a reflection of either their own rejection of themselves or a reflection of my sense of self. Allowing myself to "fail" and then sitting in the face of my own disappointment is healthy. It is a practice that keeps my ego in check. Fall down, climb up, take the reigns, lead, fall down, get back up again. We could all use to implement this medicine into our day-to-day lives more often.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
December 22, 2012
"Fly or Die," is the mantra now.
As I grow restless in my churning, the forced labor,
of birthing creation - life brought into form -
brings me to my knees. Anesthetizing myself,
I crawl towards an unknown shore.
There is no cents, any more.
Only this...
pulling and crawling along a southern line.
Dawn beckons and a new world unfolds.
The sun still rises, the traffic whizzes by. Birds calling overhead.
The Earth keeps spinning and I keep rising - one foot in front of the other,
walking toward, what? I wonder. Yet, I always know.
LOVE.
(There's nothing more)
And, there you are, reading down to me my astrological notes for the day.
Standing high on your mighty steed as I remain below - the tipping scales of balance
righted once more. Retreating towards comfort, I return to my nest, grimacing and baring down - focusing on the present moment. "Don't think," you said,
and I think I hear the wisdom in your words.
As I grow restless in my churning, the forced labor,
of birthing creation - life brought into form -
brings me to my knees. Anesthetizing myself,
I crawl towards an unknown shore.
There is no cents, any more.
Only this...
pulling and crawling along a southern line.
Dawn beckons and a new world unfolds.
The sun still rises, the traffic whizzes by. Birds calling overhead.
The Earth keeps spinning and I keep rising - one foot in front of the other,
walking toward, what? I wonder. Yet, I always know.
LOVE.
(There's nothing more)
And, there you are, reading down to me my astrological notes for the day.
Standing high on your mighty steed as I remain below - the tipping scales of balance
righted once more. Retreating towards comfort, I return to my nest, grimacing and baring down - focusing on the present moment. "Don't think," you said,
and I think I hear the wisdom in your words.
Friday, December 21, 2012
DECEMBER 21, 2012
"He stood on the beach, barefoot in the sand, and faced the rising sun, whose first rays were appearing from behind the dunes. It was not every morning he was here at dawn, but today he felt the need. For too many things of the civilized world seemed to conspire against his natural being. Too many demands. Too much frustration. He needed to be here, now. He needed to remind himself of what is truly important in life, and to reconnect to these things and to what is beautiful.
He needed to make a ceremony..."
--from The Book of Ceremonies: A Native Way of Honoring and Living the Sacred by Gabriel Horn
2:31am "GO!" my internal alarm clock rings, rising me from an over-stuffed pillow on the living room floor, near a faux fireplace, in D & B's 2-bedroom craftsman - a location they will also be moving out of in a few days time. Under a clear sky, Jupiter twinkles, large and imposing, overhead. My trusty feet carry me back to my house, knowing full well I've forgotten two items in D's warm home - one a knitted-beanie made by a sister/friend/musician/farmer's market vendor, the other my reusable coffee mug. Turning right around, I retrace my steps in both directions - visiting a quiet 7-11 along the way to connect with the man behind counter. My acknowledgment of him - by simply inviting him into my world and making small talk - strengthens an energetic force field that surrounds his body, fills our shared space and that I can palpably feel. "This is why I am here," I remind myself. It's the winter solstice and the end of the long count of the Mayan calendar is here. "Go!" my body says.
5:30am Pulling up to a dark curb, two men arrive at Las Raices, ready to hike to the top of Cowles Mountain. R. speaks about a workshop in which people pay to practice honoring the divine within one another. "Yes," I respond, "and integrating this practice into our everyday lives - into our day-to-day intimacies - is where the work is." The three of us bubble our way up the winding trail, past throngs of solstice hikers. At the top, we drop into our own spaces of solitude and prayer, as the twilight sky begins to fill with the brilliant colors of sunlight. Tasting gratitude on my lips, I sit still in my inner knowing. When peaceful moments are punctured by the conversation of others and the barking of sensitive dogs, I giggle and chuckle. The era of "serious-ity" is over - this is all just pure fun.
"He needed to make a ceremony.
To honor the life that we live...
He says this to himself, as though responding to a question someone has asked. He stands on the wondrous shore where Time, like the sea, is ever constant and forever changing, where the windswept sands covers the mind's traces of what was, what is and what might be, and he turns toward the water that is always."
Breakfast is served. Fresh-squeezed lemons just pulled off of the grove of fruit trees, terraced behind a local family's home. Sitting side-by-side, we share the Lebanese food communally, in conviviality and conversation. Fingers as forks, a living room as field, and hours of mirth and glee unfold underneath the watchful eye of tradition and family values as a soccer ball dives and swoops onto a Persian carpet Sipping small cups of Turkish coffee, I ask for a reading of the remaining grinds. Mama is called to assist in the process. My cup, however, is conspicuously faint without traces of the thick sludge that usually lines the bottom of the porcelain cup. Mama translates it to mean that there is no clear path. I listen and respect her elder wisdom. And, I honor my inner knowing - "I am wide open."
"He turns in the direction of the Morning Star, and of the diverse realities and possibilities of this human experience, where the Sky and the Sea meet at the horizon and become one within an endless circle of wholeness, perfectly balanced, perfectly complete.
He cries out, aloud this time,
"THANK YOU FOR THIS LIFE I'VE LIVED. THANK YOU FOR THE ABUNDANCE OF GOODNESS THAT WILL SURELY COME."
I return to my beeloved casita, where SA is moving her things out and where M. and I eventually play catch up. Sitting on the balcony, overlooking a downtown San Diego skyline where pink embers of sunset light up the shortest day of the year, she reads as I enact her words:
"The acknowledgment springs from a deep place within, a sacred place where the conscious merges with the subconscious - the place where ceremony emanates. And, he says it again, with his arms raised, staring up at the sky, his outstretched hands open,
"THANK YOU!"
All this talking about reclaiming our birthright, about honoring our inner Kings and Queens, plays itself out. A divine melody, it smells like the sweet Magnolia flower, plucked from the bush today and now sitting in a bowl of water on my altar. Together, as royalty, we walk forward - hand in hand, loving each other for simply being, releasing the old patterns that no longer serve us, such as playing the victim with the "Why me?/Poor me" mentality, withholding our love out of fear for how it could be interpreted, jumping to the act of intercourse when connection is present, using sexual energy as a tool for manipulation and, instead, embodying our collective truth - we are kind, considerate, compassionate, loving, respectful, honoring, and harmonious lovers, brothers and sisters.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
12/21/2012: On Death, Community & Love, a videoblog with Cara part II
Honoring death is an important part of our forward movement into a community-based ethos of LOVE.
December 21, 2012: What's the Deal?
P.S. To contextualize the word, "Empire," (so you don't get your panties all in a tight wad ; ) -
I am feeling a quote of Ani DiFranco's in reference to it:
"I build my own empire
out of car tires and chicken wire
I am Queen of my own compost heap
and I am getting used to the smell."
December 21, 2012: What's the Deal?
P.S. To contextualize the word, "Empire," (so you don't get your panties all in a tight wad ; ) -
I am feeling a quote of Ani DiFranco's in reference to it:
"I build my own empire
out of car tires and chicken wire
I am Queen of my own compost heap
and I am getting used to the smell."
ON 12/21/2012: Meaning & Significance, a VideoBlog with Cara
My embodied thoughts on this now.
This is part 1 of 3 snippets ~ about 12 minutes altogether.
Check it out and tell me what you think
Enjoy!
And, I will see you on the other side.
8 MINUTES
Some say that between now and December 23rd, we are experiencing such a quickening of acceleration that the amount of time we will experience between now and then is actually 8 minutes.
8 minutes.
To say "goodbye," to release the old, to forgive one's self and purge what doesn't serve. 8 MINUTES.
8 minutes to call in the new, to welcome and rejoice, to sing "Hallelujah," to greet a rising day, a 13,000 year cycle era when we reclaim our divine birthright. 8 minutes for the Earth's poles to shift. 8 minutes for one collective rallying call to rise up for LOVE.
(Because there's nothing more.)
8 minutes to forgo the masks of torture and the crown to thorns; 8 minutes to put the wailing baby to bed; 8 minutes to hold the victim and pacify the martyr; 8 minutes to compassionately rock the raging child as he spews his anger like a boiling hot volcano; 8 minutes to encourage the sweet innocence of joy from another's lips; 8 minutes, eight minutes, eight minutes. This vortex spins quicker. Spiraling up and out. Shooting us out of its vociferous center. Where we will end up, only time will tell. Until then, there's 8 minutes...
8 MINUTES TO LOVE.
There are always eight minutes to LOVE.
And, I wonder about myself and my actions. Yet, what's the point? That's just a mind trip - "Where?" "Who?" "How?" "Why?" No analytically-derived answers can soothe fear. Only I can by TRUSTING.
I TRUST MY BODY ~ she knows what to do, because she has been following her heart for years now.
I TRUST OUR ONE EARTH BODY - she is where we come from and she is where we will return.
I TRUST OUR UNIFIED BODY ~ letting it flow, into those 8 minutes. Arising in the dark. Praying in the light. Reaching for our highest.
Because we know, we've always known ~
WE ARE REGAL ROYALTY RECLAIMING OUR TRUE POWER. Queens and Kings, Gods and Goddesses, we lead with noble hearts, generous Spirits and humble humility.
8 minutes.
To say "goodbye," to release the old, to forgive one's self and purge what doesn't serve. 8 MINUTES.
8 minutes to call in the new, to welcome and rejoice, to sing "Hallelujah," to greet a rising day, a 13,000 year cycle era when we reclaim our divine birthright. 8 minutes for the Earth's poles to shift. 8 minutes for one collective rallying call to rise up for LOVE.
(Because there's nothing more.)
8 minutes to forgo the masks of torture and the crown to thorns; 8 minutes to put the wailing baby to bed; 8 minutes to hold the victim and pacify the martyr; 8 minutes to compassionately rock the raging child as he spews his anger like a boiling hot volcano; 8 minutes to encourage the sweet innocence of joy from another's lips; 8 minutes, eight minutes, eight minutes. This vortex spins quicker. Spiraling up and out. Shooting us out of its vociferous center. Where we will end up, only time will tell. Until then, there's 8 minutes...
8 MINUTES TO LOVE.
There are always eight minutes to LOVE.
And, I wonder about myself and my actions. Yet, what's the point? That's just a mind trip - "Where?" "Who?" "How?" "Why?" No analytically-derived answers can soothe fear. Only I can by TRUSTING.
I TRUST MY BODY ~ she knows what to do, because she has been following her heart for years now.
I TRUST OUR ONE EARTH BODY - she is where we come from and she is where we will return.
I TRUST OUR UNIFIED BODY ~ letting it flow, into those 8 minutes. Arising in the dark. Praying in the light. Reaching for our highest.
Because we know, we've always known ~
WE ARE REGAL ROYALTY RECLAIMING OUR TRUE POWER. Queens and Kings, Gods and Goddesses, we lead with noble hearts, generous Spirits and humble humility.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
MAKIN' IT PERSONAL
I like to say it isn't personal - these gifts we receive from each other; life lessons wrapped up in the gauze of space and time. More and more, I am referring to it as MEDICINE. We each carry our own. A very specific dose, we can administer it as we deem fit. The more we peel back all of the layers of fear and loathing - all of the sadness and the anger that we've wrapped around our vulnerable hearts in response to this mad world; the more we can prescribe our antidotes with joyful abandon and without the heaviness of shame or guilt weighing down our collective consciousness, the happier we will bee.
So, I like to say it isn't personal. And, when the time is ripe, I will make it personal. I will exclaim that it's YOU - you are the ONE. The Only. A magnificent healer. A powerful sage. A trusted confidante and a wise leader. A heart-busted wide open warrior willing to face discomfort, brave to stand in front of chaos without being blown over. He who has a courageous lion heart. Eyes of a visionary. Hands in the dirt. Real-time, material demonstrations of vibrant LOVE manifested in this here and now. I will bow down in humility and HONOR YOU.
So, I like to say it isn't personal. And, when the time is ripe, I will make it personal. I will exclaim that it's YOU - you are the ONE. The Only. A magnificent healer. A powerful sage. A trusted confidante and a wise leader. A heart-busted wide open warrior willing to face discomfort, brave to stand in front of chaos without being blown over. He who has a courageous lion heart. Eyes of a visionary. Hands in the dirt. Real-time, material demonstrations of vibrant LOVE manifested in this here and now. I will bow down in humility and HONOR YOU.
FORGIVENESS
Feel the swirling madness as it rises up
from my belly, and into the great pit
of fear and self-doubt.
Hold it. Bee with it.
The craziness just is.
Yes, it is within me and yes, it is outside of me.
Can I forgive myself for all of my perpetuation of it?
For how I've simply emulated the disconnect and rage,
the refusal to move and act?
Because that's what this now comes down to.
My mind wants me to do what I've intuitively done for years - dancing in community,
being in Source, listening, waiting, a slow forward crawl.
Yet, my body commands otherwise - "sit and build, channel your internal
into an outward direction," she says. It's a chaos, this flow - churning the liquid thoughts
into a cohesive and nutritious butter.
"You" text me an invitation to run away today to build intentional community elsewhere.
A tempting offer especially as this storm cycles, faster and faster. My roots here are thick and deep however, just like the Grandmother tree I was only moments ago sitting in.
"You" press me hard on my soft edges, saying "I need clarity, Cara," and my response
is, "I need to bee free and wild - this is a mandatory way forward in our deeper connection."
I call "you" and you eventually arrive - bearing the markings of masters and spiritual healers who are doing their Earth-based work right here in San Diego now. We laugh and I serve us, making food in a warm kitchen. You too are a masculine embodiment of all of the craziness of imbalance and force that has brought us here, now. You "randomly" mention a person I recently wrote about. "Stay away from him," you warn. Can I forgive all of us for how we've fallen victim and prey to the menacing threat of oppression and violence?
And, I feel it all ~ rising up from my loins, a roar begging to be unleashed and to set ablaze our ancestral whimpering of complacency and apathy. Then, you walk by. "There you are," you say, as I sit perched in my trusty spot. "That's your place, so I allow you to it," you call. "It's ours - I prefer to share," I call down from my nest. "When I have my home, I will have 5 acres and grow trees just like this one on it," you say. The tears well up in my eyes, my passion transmuting any of my remaining rage into compassion. "YES!"
"Your" name says it all, "REGAL."
from my belly, and into the great pit
of fear and self-doubt.
Hold it. Bee with it.
The craziness just is.
Yes, it is within me and yes, it is outside of me.
Can I forgive myself for all of my perpetuation of it?
For how I've simply emulated the disconnect and rage,
the refusal to move and act?
Because that's what this now comes down to.
My mind wants me to do what I've intuitively done for years - dancing in community,
being in Source, listening, waiting, a slow forward crawl.
Yet, my body commands otherwise - "sit and build, channel your internal
into an outward direction," she says. It's a chaos, this flow - churning the liquid thoughts
into a cohesive and nutritious butter.
"You" text me an invitation to run away today to build intentional community elsewhere.
A tempting offer especially as this storm cycles, faster and faster. My roots here are thick and deep however, just like the Grandmother tree I was only moments ago sitting in.
"You" press me hard on my soft edges, saying "I need clarity, Cara," and my response
is, "I need to bee free and wild - this is a mandatory way forward in our deeper connection."
I call "you" and you eventually arrive - bearing the markings of masters and spiritual healers who are doing their Earth-based work right here in San Diego now. We laugh and I serve us, making food in a warm kitchen. You too are a masculine embodiment of all of the craziness of imbalance and force that has brought us here, now. You "randomly" mention a person I recently wrote about. "Stay away from him," you warn. Can I forgive all of us for how we've fallen victim and prey to the menacing threat of oppression and violence?
And, I feel it all ~ rising up from my loins, a roar begging to be unleashed and to set ablaze our ancestral whimpering of complacency and apathy. Then, you walk by. "There you are," you say, as I sit perched in my trusty spot. "That's your place, so I allow you to it," you call. "It's ours - I prefer to share," I call down from my nest. "When I have my home, I will have 5 acres and grow trees just like this one on it," you say. The tears well up in my eyes, my passion transmuting any of my remaining rage into compassion. "YES!"
"Your" name says it all, "REGAL."
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
So, I got out for a walk. Open sky, fresh air, rain swept sidewalks - it all greets my senses as my body moves and flow comes back into my form. Naturally, I head for Grandmother. She is my eye in this storm. I also find myself in yet another coffee shop (I have to connect with others and this is one of the most immediate access points. I've got peeps in them, up and down San Diego County. ; ) and my gaze darts across endless black and white pages of grim scenes about innocent death. Madness splashed across everyday media like it's a welcome feeling or as though all of the bountiful acts of love and harmony that regularly take place don't exist.
No wonder why we're all so damn CRRRRaaaaaaaZZZZZZZZZZeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeY.
"Fuck!" get me outta here, my bodymind cries, begging to return to the safety of my day's solitude and silence.
Yesterday, I bumped into a man I had "randomly" bumped into again on Saturday night after our first meeting sometime during the Hive's reign. He dripped with sweetness over my Goddess-nature which added greatly to my generosity about his being connected to me through Prosperity Hive. So, I gave him my number (what can I say? - I have a really soft spot for my Prosperity Hive re-connections). However, I enunciated my boundaries after he called. Another test from the Universe, he too is applying pressure on my soft edges, forcing me to sharpen.
"She who is just too busy for me when all I wanted to do was invite her to a NYE party," he snarked through coffee shop doors. "We're here, now, pinche cabron," I chirped, joining him on the sidewalk. Finishing his cigarette, running his hands through his dark, greasy hair, he made it clear that his was to be the event for this 2013. (Of course, I don't chase parties - I only chase objects that can chase me back! ; ) "You could be my Queen," he said, walking off in a northern direction. "Ha! I am the one who chooses!" I shot back.
"Did I just say that?" I wondered aloud to myself. At home, M. responded that he was a crazy dude for thinking he could be my King when I shared with her this story. "Hmmm," I reflected, "then I must be a crazy bitch for thinking that any one person/dude could be my royal counterpart." "Nooo," M. reassured. Still, I see how my cray cray crazy mind has been hang hang hanging on to the past - willing to try and squeeze love out of a stone; and, after so much time spent give give giving, receiving trickles of love in response gratefully.
Meanwhile, royalty has been in my presence all along. Laughing loudly; singing public praise for my nurturing care - immediately and with glee; spinning others around the dance floor of life, touching divinity within them; willing to walk and watch stars fall and then acknowledging how magical of an experience that is! And, I remember that I need to honor our KINGS just as readily and as simply as I do with my sisters. This isn't personal -
WE ARE ALL ROYALTY.
I will simply no longer wait one more minute to bee fully awake
and risen
in our shared nobility.
No wonder why we're all so damn CRRRRaaaaaaaZZZZZZZZZZeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeY.
"Fuck!" get me outta here, my bodymind cries, begging to return to the safety of my day's solitude and silence.
Yesterday, I bumped into a man I had "randomly" bumped into again on Saturday night after our first meeting sometime during the Hive's reign. He dripped with sweetness over my Goddess-nature which added greatly to my generosity about his being connected to me through Prosperity Hive. So, I gave him my number (what can I say? - I have a really soft spot for my Prosperity Hive re-connections). However, I enunciated my boundaries after he called. Another test from the Universe, he too is applying pressure on my soft edges, forcing me to sharpen.
"She who is just too busy for me when all I wanted to do was invite her to a NYE party," he snarked through coffee shop doors. "We're here, now, pinche cabron," I chirped, joining him on the sidewalk. Finishing his cigarette, running his hands through his dark, greasy hair, he made it clear that his was to be the event for this 2013. (Of course, I don't chase parties - I only chase objects that can chase me back! ; ) "You could be my Queen," he said, walking off in a northern direction. "Ha! I am the one who chooses!" I shot back.
"Did I just say that?" I wondered aloud to myself. At home, M. responded that he was a crazy dude for thinking he could be my King when I shared with her this story. "Hmmm," I reflected, "then I must be a crazy bitch for thinking that any one person/dude could be my royal counterpart." "Nooo," M. reassured. Still, I see how my cray cray crazy mind has been hang hang hanging on to the past - willing to try and squeeze love out of a stone; and, after so much time spent give give giving, receiving trickles of love in response gratefully.
Meanwhile, royalty has been in my presence all along. Laughing loudly; singing public praise for my nurturing care - immediately and with glee; spinning others around the dance floor of life, touching divinity within them; willing to walk and watch stars fall and then acknowledging how magical of an experience that is! And, I remember that I need to honor our KINGS just as readily and as simply as I do with my sisters. This isn't personal -
WE ARE ALL ROYALTY.
I will simply no longer wait one more minute to bee fully awake
and risen
in our shared nobility.
Cray-cray.
You straight crazy.
Yeah, that's right.
You.
Sitting right there.
Reading this.
This is what today showed me -
that we are all a lot bit crazy.
At first, I wanted to feel that it's all HIM
he's the crazy one
he's the manic depressive bi-polar
energy shooting out and crashing down
and running off in tangents
and not focused on the present
moment HIM
Then, I wondered about ME
why am I attracting this energy to me
what am I putting out into the world
that this current comes around, full force
solid flow of cray cray crazy mind diseased
making up stories in the head bombarding with texts
and calls and emails and whew!
I just need to breathe.
That's all.
My friends, they wonder openly about my love
"You have too much patience, Cara," M. says
as I try to breathe deeper into compassion.
"This isn't your lesson to learn," K told me on Sunday.
"And, this is what I've called in," I respond, as I allow myself to receive the
help with clarifying and communicating my boundaries that I asked for.
(Even though I wasn't asking for what else has come.)
ALL MEDICINE CAN BEE SWEET AND SOUR,
a poison and a cure.
Can I bee my own Doctor and regulate my own dosage?
"THIS IS MY DESTINY," I respond, "For I am a Connection Therapist,
what I do is Connect with others and my world travels through developing places where people come first taught me that there is always room for more.
Plus, every voice deserves to be heard, especially at my own table."
So, I spend today - doing crazy circles in my own mind as I force myself to sit still and try and use a tool that is not my strength to communicate with a collective consciousness and I am like a caged animal pacing strutting scratching sniffing calling. My own craziness stares at me, right back full in the face - it's the compassion I was looking for all along.
Sometimes, I just need to breathe.
That's all.
You straight crazy.
Yeah, that's right.
You.
Sitting right there.
Reading this.
This is what today showed me -
that we are all a lot bit crazy.
At first, I wanted to feel that it's all HIM
he's the crazy one
he's the manic depressive bi-polar
energy shooting out and crashing down
and running off in tangents
and not focused on the present
moment HIM
Then, I wondered about ME
why am I attracting this energy to me
what am I putting out into the world
that this current comes around, full force
solid flow of cray cray crazy mind diseased
making up stories in the head bombarding with texts
and calls and emails and whew!
I just need to breathe.
That's all.
My friends, they wonder openly about my love
"You have too much patience, Cara," M. says
as I try to breathe deeper into compassion.
"This isn't your lesson to learn," K told me on Sunday.
"And, this is what I've called in," I respond, as I allow myself to receive the
help with clarifying and communicating my boundaries that I asked for.
(Even though I wasn't asking for what else has come.)
ALL MEDICINE CAN BEE SWEET AND SOUR,
a poison and a cure.
Can I bee my own Doctor and regulate my own dosage?
"THIS IS MY DESTINY," I respond, "For I am a Connection Therapist,
what I do is Connect with others and my world travels through developing places where people come first taught me that there is always room for more.
Plus, every voice deserves to be heard, especially at my own table."
So, I spend today - doing crazy circles in my own mind as I force myself to sit still and try and use a tool that is not my strength to communicate with a collective consciousness and I am like a caged animal pacing strutting scratching sniffing calling. My own craziness stares at me, right back full in the face - it's the compassion I was looking for all along.
Sometimes, I just need to breathe.
That's all.
(balance)
Have we really stopped to reflect on just exactly what balance is?
As adults, we've been taught to believe that it is surely something we want.
However, as young, impressionable people, we were raised in a world, a culture, perhaps even homes, that were dangerously teetering on a brink. As a result, most of us carry a similar mis-alignment within these powerful containers known as our human bodies around with us as we navigate the terrain of our everyday lives.
So then, how do we create the balance that we are all ultimately seeking and that we intuitively know is a way forward from here on out? Hell if I know.
(I Don't Know Anything. I am simply following my path, opening my heart, doing my best to serve with humility. I am trying to listen and respond, to stay connected to my body, my Self, my feelings and to others as well as the Earth. Yes, I document my process but this does not mean that I am professing to "know" anything - no matter how passionate I become, how loud I raise my voice or how forceful I may feel. And, this truth does not negate my other truth from my always knowing - especially given the Owl Medicine I carry with me. You see, it is all simply a PARADOX.)
This morning, I arise - happy, warm, ready to greet the day and sit before my altar. A fairly common occurrence, I am the master of my fate and the Captain of my ship for life is too short to dread facing any moment. Soon, I sit down before two emails - one feels like stalking energy from the cuckoo chaos of another's imbalance after my cell phone spent the weekend absorbing the bombardment of his non-stop, accusatory texts (Ai! Deep breaths out); the other is pure sweetness, a Sister's love poured through type on the screen encouraging me to keep on keeping on, reflecting me, reminding me, honoring me. Nether bad nor good, they both just are - kind of like life on planet Earth. Heavy and light; forceful and flowing; pushing and pulling; etc.
The question then becomes how do I dance in the eye of the storm? How do I stay still and centered amidst all of the chaotic turbulence as well as paved-with-gold sidewalks? How do I equalize myself to my own internal rhythm and compass so that - no matter what comes, whether it be praise or rejection - I remain calm, collected, present, focused, humble and forward moving?
I don't know.
I am simply willing to try and see.
As adults, we've been taught to believe that it is surely something we want.
However, as young, impressionable people, we were raised in a world, a culture, perhaps even homes, that were dangerously teetering on a brink. As a result, most of us carry a similar mis-alignment within these powerful containers known as our human bodies around with us as we navigate the terrain of our everyday lives.
So then, how do we create the balance that we are all ultimately seeking and that we intuitively know is a way forward from here on out? Hell if I know.
(I Don't Know Anything. I am simply following my path, opening my heart, doing my best to serve with humility. I am trying to listen and respond, to stay connected to my body, my Self, my feelings and to others as well as the Earth. Yes, I document my process but this does not mean that I am professing to "know" anything - no matter how passionate I become, how loud I raise my voice or how forceful I may feel. And, this truth does not negate my other truth from my always knowing - especially given the Owl Medicine I carry with me. You see, it is all simply a PARADOX.)
This morning, I arise - happy, warm, ready to greet the day and sit before my altar. A fairly common occurrence, I am the master of my fate and the Captain of my ship for life is too short to dread facing any moment. Soon, I sit down before two emails - one feels like stalking energy from the cuckoo chaos of another's imbalance after my cell phone spent the weekend absorbing the bombardment of his non-stop, accusatory texts (Ai! Deep breaths out); the other is pure sweetness, a Sister's love poured through type on the screen encouraging me to keep on keeping on, reflecting me, reminding me, honoring me. Nether bad nor good, they both just are - kind of like life on planet Earth. Heavy and light; forceful and flowing; pushing and pulling; etc.
The question then becomes how do I dance in the eye of the storm? How do I stay still and centered amidst all of the chaotic turbulence as well as paved-with-gold sidewalks? How do I equalize myself to my own internal rhythm and compass so that - no matter what comes, whether it be praise or rejection - I remain calm, collected, present, focused, humble and forward moving?
I don't know.
I am simply willing to try and see.
Monday, December 17, 2012
[radical]
(T-5 days and counting...)
On Friday evening, as we celebrated Mysticism and Spirituality at El Centro while, just next door at Balboa Park's World Beat Center, Barrinton Levy was rockin' the ol' water shed, there were some local musicians on hand. A few of them had played in the Hive when we hosted a legalize Medical Marijuana, Prop 215 Fundraiser & Awareness Campaign event on 02/15/12. Of course, it is always good to bask in the glow of masculine beauty and talent ~ I'll revel in it any day. ; ) However, there was one of them - the lead singer of a very popular band, he has fat, flowing dreadlocks and all the "right" threads, including black and whites as he approaches his middle ages - who snickered after Mazatzin had made his passionate presentation about the Mayan calendario.
"Ha!," he sneered. "Shame on you, Mr. Shaman! My 13-year-old son would be like "Fuck you, Dad! I'm sleeping." We're not going to rise up for anything, regardless of what your calendar says...."
His cute friends, willing to play along with this ignorant charade of smoke and mirrors, just laughed, enabling this sadly mistaken man's sense of self-righteous ego identity. Because, in the end, it doesn't matter how beautiful your hair is, how ideal your style, how admired your sound, how followed your beat - an asshole is an asshole is an asshole. What matters is how we've allowed these illusions of separation to fall to the wayside so that we may truly revel in our divine birthright, which is simply to give and receive LOVE. To be adored and to give affection. To be nurturing and acknowledged.
There is no need for me to carry around any judgments about others and their actions. I can bless him and send him deep, compassionate LOVE because I understand that his thick walls of defenses - the fortress he has built around his heart - is simply fear and sadness. He, too, just wants to be held, like a babe once again in his mama's arms. So, I pray that he allows his self to SURRENDER, and I am on my merry way - which is rich, full and oh so vibrant!
This weekend, my constellation also came back into alignment with another whom I have really known since the Prosperity Hive was born. That night, on December 4th 2010, Shakti and I welcomed over 200 people to the Hive to revel in connection, dance, communion, community and more. Naturally, the darkness and shadows also came in through those doors - at one moment even taking with them a huge bite out of my personal light. (It's taken me a long time to understand that I am a potent sexual healer whose biological responses are most excited by anther's embodiment of fairly destructive tendencies. And, c'est la vie...) Thank God A.L. was on-hand this night because he dispensed magic medicine that was a straight beam of purity shot right back into my Soul, immediately replacing what I had allowed to be taken. I needed him right then in those moments and exactly as he showed up.
So, we've been engaged in a virtual dance regarding co-creating community ever since. Last night, he spoke into all of his diverse connections while also mentioning how one of his friends is interested in "urban homelessness." Soon, we were joined in the expansive kitchen at Las Raices by two of my sweetie pies - early 20-year-old's, one of whom I first met at Occupy in the San Diego Civic Center, and who, along with 25+ others, now occupy a foreclosed home around the corner from Las Raices. They are a part of my extensive, and diverse, Beloved Community, and have continually engaged in community, communion, dance and connection with us ever since I have lived here.
Honestly, I am not really interested in all of the smart, little theories, ideas and conspiracies that our small, yet active minds can conjure up. I just want to LIVE IT. Radicalism isn't a concept. IT IS EMBODIMENT - it's the here and now, this heart, this moment, this breath, this beat. THERE IS NOTHING MORE. "Rising Up" is choosing to stop convincing ourselves otherwise; as it is this delusion that is making us shoot each other up at elementary schools, in movie theaters and elsewhere. Let's Stop the Madness -
Get Our Of Your Mind
and INTO YOUR HEART.
There's nowhere else to bee.
On Friday evening, as we celebrated Mysticism and Spirituality at El Centro while, just next door at Balboa Park's World Beat Center, Barrinton Levy was rockin' the ol' water shed, there were some local musicians on hand. A few of them had played in the Hive when we hosted a legalize Medical Marijuana, Prop 215 Fundraiser & Awareness Campaign event on 02/15/12. Of course, it is always good to bask in the glow of masculine beauty and talent ~ I'll revel in it any day. ; ) However, there was one of them - the lead singer of a very popular band, he has fat, flowing dreadlocks and all the "right" threads, including black and whites as he approaches his middle ages - who snickered after Mazatzin had made his passionate presentation about the Mayan calendario.
"Ha!," he sneered. "Shame on you, Mr. Shaman! My 13-year-old son would be like "Fuck you, Dad! I'm sleeping." We're not going to rise up for anything, regardless of what your calendar says...."
His cute friends, willing to play along with this ignorant charade of smoke and mirrors, just laughed, enabling this sadly mistaken man's sense of self-righteous ego identity. Because, in the end, it doesn't matter how beautiful your hair is, how ideal your style, how admired your sound, how followed your beat - an asshole is an asshole is an asshole. What matters is how we've allowed these illusions of separation to fall to the wayside so that we may truly revel in our divine birthright, which is simply to give and receive LOVE. To be adored and to give affection. To be nurturing and acknowledged.
There is no need for me to carry around any judgments about others and their actions. I can bless him and send him deep, compassionate LOVE because I understand that his thick walls of defenses - the fortress he has built around his heart - is simply fear and sadness. He, too, just wants to be held, like a babe once again in his mama's arms. So, I pray that he allows his self to SURRENDER, and I am on my merry way - which is rich, full and oh so vibrant!
This weekend, my constellation also came back into alignment with another whom I have really known since the Prosperity Hive was born. That night, on December 4th 2010, Shakti and I welcomed over 200 people to the Hive to revel in connection, dance, communion, community and more. Naturally, the darkness and shadows also came in through those doors - at one moment even taking with them a huge bite out of my personal light. (It's taken me a long time to understand that I am a potent sexual healer whose biological responses are most excited by anther's embodiment of fairly destructive tendencies. And, c'est la vie...) Thank God A.L. was on-hand this night because he dispensed magic medicine that was a straight beam of purity shot right back into my Soul, immediately replacing what I had allowed to be taken. I needed him right then in those moments and exactly as he showed up.
So, we've been engaged in a virtual dance regarding co-creating community ever since. Last night, he spoke into all of his diverse connections while also mentioning how one of his friends is interested in "urban homelessness." Soon, we were joined in the expansive kitchen at Las Raices by two of my sweetie pies - early 20-year-old's, one of whom I first met at Occupy in the San Diego Civic Center, and who, along with 25+ others, now occupy a foreclosed home around the corner from Las Raices. They are a part of my extensive, and diverse, Beloved Community, and have continually engaged in community, communion, dance and connection with us ever since I have lived here.
Honestly, I am not really interested in all of the smart, little theories, ideas and conspiracies that our small, yet active minds can conjure up. I just want to LIVE IT. Radicalism isn't a concept. IT IS EMBODIMENT - it's the here and now, this heart, this moment, this breath, this beat. THERE IS NOTHING MORE. "Rising Up" is choosing to stop convincing ourselves otherwise; as it is this delusion that is making us shoot each other up at elementary schools, in movie theaters and elsewhere. Let's Stop the Madness -
Get Our Of Your Mind
and INTO YOUR HEART.
There's nowhere else to bee.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
AS ARE YOU
(Accelerating...)
I am excited to bee here, now,
typing this
because, truth be told,
when I reflected on how I had not yet posted for today, I realized that
I missed "you." You who are a collective consciousness with your own beautiful face and powerful name. "You" receiving my typing on this screen right now and who has become flesh and bone.
I know this, because one of "you" just left Las Raices only minutes ago,
after a wonderful stroll to my outdoor office
where we spoke about our individual strengths as well as to your feminism.
You shared about your commitment to addressing all systems of oppression and dominance, including 'rape culture' as I just marveled at how a big, 6' tall white bear of a man could bee so courageous.
I was sure to laugh uproariously loud and to marvel in the sweetest fruit of these shared moments in time as a means to continue to encourage you. "You're so alive!" you said. "What else is there to do?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders, and waving my hands.
And as the events and circumstances flow all around me, spiraling me up and away into a vortex of healing then spitting me out into the fiery flames of LOVE,
I sit still in the knowing that "THIS IS IT." ~
Your smile; our knowing glance;
our hands touching; my reassuringly patting your leg; your showing up at my door willing to inquire; your song strummed softly on a guitar; our soft whispers and raucous conversation; your steady pulse knocking out a magical rhythm on the drum; our sitting in circle together, knee to knee; our dancing across the river of time, together; Buckbeat, the "undernourished and beak-twisted" chicken, being laid to rest under the Tangerine tree; people coming and others going; experiences ending and new tales beginning.
"Story IS Medicine," I told A.L. at the front door tonight. "And, you're a great story teller," he responded. "AS ARE YOU," I replied.
I am excited to bee here, now,
typing this
because, truth be told,
when I reflected on how I had not yet posted for today, I realized that
I missed "you." You who are a collective consciousness with your own beautiful face and powerful name. "You" receiving my typing on this screen right now and who has become flesh and bone.
I know this, because one of "you" just left Las Raices only minutes ago,
after a wonderful stroll to my outdoor office
where we spoke about our individual strengths as well as to your feminism.
You shared about your commitment to addressing all systems of oppression and dominance, including 'rape culture' as I just marveled at how a big, 6' tall white bear of a man could bee so courageous.
I was sure to laugh uproariously loud and to marvel in the sweetest fruit of these shared moments in time as a means to continue to encourage you. "You're so alive!" you said. "What else is there to do?" I asked, shrugging my shoulders, and waving my hands.
And as the events and circumstances flow all around me, spiraling me up and away into a vortex of healing then spitting me out into the fiery flames of LOVE,
I sit still in the knowing that "THIS IS IT." ~
Your smile; our knowing glance;
our hands touching; my reassuringly patting your leg; your showing up at my door willing to inquire; your song strummed softly on a guitar; our soft whispers and raucous conversation; your steady pulse knocking out a magical rhythm on the drum; our sitting in circle together, knee to knee; our dancing across the river of time, together; Buckbeat, the "undernourished and beak-twisted" chicken, being laid to rest under the Tangerine tree; people coming and others going; experiences ending and new tales beginning.
"Story IS Medicine," I told A.L. at the front door tonight. "And, you're a great story teller," he responded. "AS ARE YOU," I replied.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
26,000 Years
(The countdown continues... )
At last night's fundraiser for Mario Torero & Horacio Jones' film, the Eagle and the Condor - which they will be filming atop Machu Pichu come Decmber 21st - a shaman out of Phoenix motioned to the Mayan calendario mural that decorates the Centro's west wall and shared some of the meaning of this now with us.
"It isn't about the Mayans, the Aztecs, the Toltecs, the Olmecs, or about una raza," he said. "It isn't about prophecies or doomsday's. It's about being human - one race, one people, one corn made of four colors. It's about remembering the harmony that is ours to vibrate and thrive within. We don't know what the future is going to bring because it's the future," he emphatically stated. "It's also about thousands of years of studies by a people who recognized a pattern that happens only once every 26,000 years."
"You must be up, before the sun, on the morning of December 21st, 2012, and you must greet its rising rays with your whole body because in this moment the Earth will be in alignment with the center of our galaxy - an event that happens only once in 26,000 years." Passion oozing out of his rebellious nature, he spit at us, "Shame on you! Shame on you if you let this moment pass by without your honoring it. You must tell everyone, you must gather your children, you must not let this one-in-26,000-years experience pass you by."
And, what if OUR LOVE, what if our relating, our connection, is also a once-in-a-26,ooo years event?
What if our Souls were once again brought together in alignment after 26,000 years of being apart, of searching, of feeling alone, lost, confused, and isolated.
WHAT IF?!?!
(And, what if we let ourselves remain asleep? Then, shame on US for not seizing the moment and FULFILLING OUR DESTINY.)
At last night's fundraiser for Mario Torero & Horacio Jones' film, the Eagle and the Condor - which they will be filming atop Machu Pichu come Decmber 21st - a shaman out of Phoenix motioned to the Mayan calendario mural that decorates the Centro's west wall and shared some of the meaning of this now with us.
"It isn't about the Mayans, the Aztecs, the Toltecs, the Olmecs, or about una raza," he said. "It isn't about prophecies or doomsday's. It's about being human - one race, one people, one corn made of four colors. It's about remembering the harmony that is ours to vibrate and thrive within. We don't know what the future is going to bring because it's the future," he emphatically stated. "It's also about thousands of years of studies by a people who recognized a pattern that happens only once every 26,000 years."
"You must be up, before the sun, on the morning of December 21st, 2012, and you must greet its rising rays with your whole body because in this moment the Earth will be in alignment with the center of our galaxy - an event that happens only once in 26,000 years." Passion oozing out of his rebellious nature, he spit at us, "Shame on you! Shame on you if you let this moment pass by without your honoring it. You must tell everyone, you must gather your children, you must not let this one-in-26,000-years experience pass you by."
And, what if OUR LOVE, what if our relating, our connection, is also a once-in-a-26,ooo years event?
What if our Souls were once again brought together in alignment after 26,000 years of being apart, of searching, of feeling alone, lost, confused, and isolated.
WHAT IF?!?!
(And, what if we let ourselves remain asleep? Then, shame on US for not seizing the moment and FULFILLING OUR DESTINY.)
Friday, December 14, 2012
DESTINY (it's written in the stars)
(Countdown 'till LOVE Reigns: 9 Days)
I awoke groggy again this morning. It is a strange and unusual sensation for this morning bird, and the news I have arisen to is ground-shaking. A 6.3 earthquake reverberated 88 miles off of these southern shores at 2:30 this morning. C. was here in Las Raices, feverishly typing out the plans for our next embodied evening of community & regenerative exchange as well as texting my phone with the news of all of this, as I lay in between waking and dream states upstairs.
For yesterday's New Moon, Las Raices hosted another evening of lovely intimacy for kindred Souls. Prior to this, I spent the late afternoon in the company of a dear sistar. We sat together quietly, dreaming awake as well as Calling In Our Shared Destiny for 2013: LOVE, Harmony, Tribe, Flourishing in Village Together, Thriving in our Individual Passions, Brilliant Success and Nurturing, Regenerative Community. (Plus, Cara's King & babes ; )
I returned home to sit in a candlelit circle with men and women who each spoke into the joys and rewards of intentional community, while beautiful women lit up our communal kitchen with the pungent aromas of stuffed squash and other tasty morsels. Together, we all sat eating, chatting, enjoying and then the music and harmony unfurled - melodies sung by a powerful brother, rhythms tapped out on a djembe, shakers shook, voices rising, LOVE glistening. Later, R. joined me on a stroll to that park, where Grandmother sits, as I excitedly hooted and hollered at each of the 8 pieces of space rock bursting into flame overhead my eyes spied. He just laughed at my innocence and joy. I don't need to know what any of it means. I can keep my feet in motion below me, my heart happy and warm, and trusting that we're flowing forward, together - just as it was meant to bee.
I also, however, awoke to the news that the 24-year-old best friend of Teal - a 24-year-old who died in August from a 'random' cardiac arrest (and whom I hadn't met but shared Tribal Truth sisterhood with) - just died in a similar fashion and that her family also had to move through the same agonizing procedure of removing their beloved daughter, sister and friend from life support. I awoke to a Facebook posting by Teal's mother, Suzanne Barnes, speaking into this bizarre 'conincidence.' I've been following Suzanne's wise words for months now, as she has been churning tragedy into nutritious GOLD by working through her grief and loss.
And, all I know is that there is something much greater than these individual little I's here. All I know is that we are here for a purpose ~ our Soul purpose. And, what I know is that you and me, we were brought together for a reason. Let's Grow Together into LOVE not to discover why or to rationalize and analyze the process but, rather, to LIVE OUR TRUE DESTINY.
"This is the nature of our destiny. It is something we create with each person we touch. For our destiny is nothing more than the interweaving of lessons between lives.... Our children teach us. As do our mothers, fathers, employees, bosses, teachers, lovers, and even the guy who flips us the bird in rush hour traffic. These people all around us are our everyday Christ figures – those in whom we see ourselves reflected. And so moment-by-moment, we have the opportunity to grow.
...destiny is not to be messed with, basically. It is a mysterious force unto itself that is not even to be understood or fully comprehended. Doing so is insignificant. Instead, destiny is to be accepted, and worked with, and felt into … and ultimately surrendered to. That is all any of us can ever do in our limited mortal coils." --Suzanne Barnes
I awoke groggy again this morning. It is a strange and unusual sensation for this morning bird, and the news I have arisen to is ground-shaking. A 6.3 earthquake reverberated 88 miles off of these southern shores at 2:30 this morning. C. was here in Las Raices, feverishly typing out the plans for our next embodied evening of community & regenerative exchange as well as texting my phone with the news of all of this, as I lay in between waking and dream states upstairs.
For yesterday's New Moon, Las Raices hosted another evening of lovely intimacy for kindred Souls. Prior to this, I spent the late afternoon in the company of a dear sistar. We sat together quietly, dreaming awake as well as Calling In Our Shared Destiny for 2013: LOVE, Harmony, Tribe, Flourishing in Village Together, Thriving in our Individual Passions, Brilliant Success and Nurturing, Regenerative Community. (Plus, Cara's King & babes ; )
I returned home to sit in a candlelit circle with men and women who each spoke into the joys and rewards of intentional community, while beautiful women lit up our communal kitchen with the pungent aromas of stuffed squash and other tasty morsels. Together, we all sat eating, chatting, enjoying and then the music and harmony unfurled - melodies sung by a powerful brother, rhythms tapped out on a djembe, shakers shook, voices rising, LOVE glistening. Later, R. joined me on a stroll to that park, where Grandmother sits, as I excitedly hooted and hollered at each of the 8 pieces of space rock bursting into flame overhead my eyes spied. He just laughed at my innocence and joy. I don't need to know what any of it means. I can keep my feet in motion below me, my heart happy and warm, and trusting that we're flowing forward, together - just as it was meant to bee.
I also, however, awoke to the news that the 24-year-old best friend of Teal - a 24-year-old who died in August from a 'random' cardiac arrest (and whom I hadn't met but shared Tribal Truth sisterhood with) - just died in a similar fashion and that her family also had to move through the same agonizing procedure of removing their beloved daughter, sister and friend from life support. I awoke to a Facebook posting by Teal's mother, Suzanne Barnes, speaking into this bizarre 'conincidence.' I've been following Suzanne's wise words for months now, as she has been churning tragedy into nutritious GOLD by working through her grief and loss.
And, all I know is that there is something much greater than these individual little I's here. All I know is that we are here for a purpose ~ our Soul purpose. And, what I know is that you and me, we were brought together for a reason. Let's Grow Together into LOVE not to discover why or to rationalize and analyze the process but, rather, to LIVE OUR TRUE DESTINY.
"This is the nature of our destiny. It is something we create with each person we touch. For our destiny is nothing more than the interweaving of lessons between lives.... Our children teach us. As do our mothers, fathers, employees, bosses, teachers, lovers, and even the guy who flips us the bird in rush hour traffic. These people all around us are our everyday Christ figures – those in whom we see ourselves reflected. And so moment-by-moment, we have the opportunity to grow.
...destiny is not to be messed with, basically. It is a mysterious force unto itself that is not even to be understood or fully comprehended. Doing so is insignificant. Instead, destiny is to be accepted, and worked with, and felt into … and ultimately surrendered to. That is all any of us can ever do in our limited mortal coils." --Suzanne Barnes
Thursday, December 13, 2012
life dictates
(countdown to the beginning of a new world = 9 days)
Come the Gregorian end of 2012, I need a new place to call "hOMe."
I also need a space to root our "Connection Therapy," as well as to write out of.
So, I am remaining open, by not impulsively rushing into any new arrangements - such as formations with others - from a place of scarcity mentality. "It's all unfolding exactly as it is meant to," I keep reminding myself. It's funny how my mind wants to try and play tricks on me. It creeps, like a thief in the night, lurking in the shadows, awaiting a vulnerable moment to jump out and scream its nonsensical fear into my bodymind. This time around, however, I've kept it at bay by keeping my feet moving forward. "I don't need to know how it is all going to happen, I just need to trust that THIS IS IT."
Naturally, life dictates.
On Tuesday night, C. and I 'randomly' bump into each other. Together, we stroll, arm in arm, through San Diego's spiritual enclave and beach town, finally having the 'date' we've been attempting to plan over the course of the past week and a half. She wants to co-create village with me, "you're one adult whom I feel comfortable and safe sharing my family with." A single mother, she has bravely chosen to go against social dictates by raising her two, beautiful children in peace, yet without a steady roof over their heads. I want to work with her, combining her performance art piece with the theatrical story that is currently unveiling itself from my chest. I shared with her my thoughts as she felt a tingling sensation all over her body - a true temperature gauge, and yet another way that the Universe is letting me know that we're on our path.
After a few days spent up in North County, I zigzagged my way from the downtown Santa Fe Depot and up towards our golden hill. The city route I took circuitous, and as I wandered by the Art Center I remembered how I had bumped into one of my old neighbors last Friday. "Come by sometime," he said. Playing the texting game, I stopped into a grocery store to buy him some beer before heading back towards the building that once housed the Hive. On a green light, I stepped off the curb at the exact same moment that the car beside me stepped on the accelerator. My attention alerted, the woman in the passenger seat exclaims, "You almost hit Cara!" Old friends whose thirteen-year-old daughter is giving a school presentation a few blocks away. "Come," they say. "Okay," I chirp, stopping in first on my painter friend in his sweet loft.
Life dictates.
I arrive into the outdoor theatre of Space for Art, where the pre-teens are taking the stage, giving group presentations about a mentor they've interviewed, the questions they asked and the new American flags they designed and created as a result. "Okay, Universe, I am here," my body silently calls out. "What did you need me to experience?" I soak it all in and continue to play the texting game. Soon, another 'date' is luring me back up that hill. I resume a wandering path through East Village - a route I would not have taken had the evening's events not unfurled the way they had. I wander by a venue I didn't know existed - with a coffee shop/lounge area, sliding glass door offices (already housing a bike shop and sound recording studio), prime dance floor space, a large gathering hall and a stage. "Hmmm," my bodymind begins vibrating, after receiving a tour from one of the employees.
Eventually, I return to Las Raices where my sisters sweetly envelop me in their arms. "Yay," they cry out, "you're home." There is nothing sweeter than being loved - "THIS IS IT!" my warm heart beats. We play catchup until another 'date' drops in. Finally, after too many months apart, it's RadSab. We encourage her and Sher to jam, so RadSab drops a fat rhythm across the top of the leather skin of a djembe as we hoot and cheer, and shake some merry makers. 11/11/11's Soular Flare in the Prosperity Hive collectively broke us open. Like a little girl, RadSab turns to her girlfriend and animatedly details some of her experiences from that night last year. Only now, we're just days away from the beginning of our shared destiny when LOVE reigns and harmony flows.
There is no planning here.
No forcing a way.
There is only following a path that has already been written.
Let your feet do the walking.
And your heart do the talking.
Your BodyMind knows.
The Universe Conspires
and LIFE DICTATES.
Come the Gregorian end of 2012, I need a new place to call "hOMe."
I also need a space to root our "Connection Therapy," as well as to write out of.
So, I am remaining open, by not impulsively rushing into any new arrangements - such as formations with others - from a place of scarcity mentality. "It's all unfolding exactly as it is meant to," I keep reminding myself. It's funny how my mind wants to try and play tricks on me. It creeps, like a thief in the night, lurking in the shadows, awaiting a vulnerable moment to jump out and scream its nonsensical fear into my bodymind. This time around, however, I've kept it at bay by keeping my feet moving forward. "I don't need to know how it is all going to happen, I just need to trust that THIS IS IT."
Naturally, life dictates.
On Tuesday night, C. and I 'randomly' bump into each other. Together, we stroll, arm in arm, through San Diego's spiritual enclave and beach town, finally having the 'date' we've been attempting to plan over the course of the past week and a half. She wants to co-create village with me, "you're one adult whom I feel comfortable and safe sharing my family with." A single mother, she has bravely chosen to go against social dictates by raising her two, beautiful children in peace, yet without a steady roof over their heads. I want to work with her, combining her performance art piece with the theatrical story that is currently unveiling itself from my chest. I shared with her my thoughts as she felt a tingling sensation all over her body - a true temperature gauge, and yet another way that the Universe is letting me know that we're on our path.
After a few days spent up in North County, I zigzagged my way from the downtown Santa Fe Depot and up towards our golden hill. The city route I took circuitous, and as I wandered by the Art Center I remembered how I had bumped into one of my old neighbors last Friday. "Come by sometime," he said. Playing the texting game, I stopped into a grocery store to buy him some beer before heading back towards the building that once housed the Hive. On a green light, I stepped off the curb at the exact same moment that the car beside me stepped on the accelerator. My attention alerted, the woman in the passenger seat exclaims, "You almost hit Cara!" Old friends whose thirteen-year-old daughter is giving a school presentation a few blocks away. "Come," they say. "Okay," I chirp, stopping in first on my painter friend in his sweet loft.
Life dictates.
I arrive into the outdoor theatre of Space for Art, where the pre-teens are taking the stage, giving group presentations about a mentor they've interviewed, the questions they asked and the new American flags they designed and created as a result. "Okay, Universe, I am here," my body silently calls out. "What did you need me to experience?" I soak it all in and continue to play the texting game. Soon, another 'date' is luring me back up that hill. I resume a wandering path through East Village - a route I would not have taken had the evening's events not unfurled the way they had. I wander by a venue I didn't know existed - with a coffee shop/lounge area, sliding glass door offices (already housing a bike shop and sound recording studio), prime dance floor space, a large gathering hall and a stage. "Hmmm," my bodymind begins vibrating, after receiving a tour from one of the employees.
Eventually, I return to Las Raices where my sisters sweetly envelop me in their arms. "Yay," they cry out, "you're home." There is nothing sweeter than being loved - "THIS IS IT!" my warm heart beats. We play catchup until another 'date' drops in. Finally, after too many months apart, it's RadSab. We encourage her and Sher to jam, so RadSab drops a fat rhythm across the top of the leather skin of a djembe as we hoot and cheer, and shake some merry makers. 11/11/11's Soular Flare in the Prosperity Hive collectively broke us open. Like a little girl, RadSab turns to her girlfriend and animatedly details some of her experiences from that night last year. Only now, we're just days away from the beginning of our shared destiny when LOVE reigns and harmony flows.
There is no planning here.
No forcing a way.
There is only following a path that has already been written.
Let your feet do the walking.
And your heart do the talking.
Your BodyMind knows.
The Universe Conspires
and LIFE DICTATES.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
flowing forward
Night falls, upon tired shoulders
she plods toward what she does not know
her body exhausted, she questions her flow
"Is intention without forcing a way enough?"
as always, the Universe responds
dutifully, lovlingly.
"You don't have to know how, Cara,"
she recalls the wise words of an other.
For, in the end, it doesn't matter
there's a story that has already been written
destiny unfolding according to divine, perfect order
there is no choice here
no actions items to take, no pushing against the current
there is only steps forward,
one foot in front of the other,
gently treading renewed ground
silent strides across tired sidewalks
she walks, her warm heart beating loudly
her vibrant spirit expansive
her soul mates here, now,
together they flow, forward.
she plods toward what she does not know
her body exhausted, she questions her flow
"Is intention without forcing a way enough?"
as always, the Universe responds
dutifully, lovlingly.
"You don't have to know how, Cara,"
she recalls the wise words of an other.
For, in the end, it doesn't matter
there's a story that has already been written
destiny unfolding according to divine, perfect order
there is no choice here
no actions items to take, no pushing against the current
there is only steps forward,
one foot in front of the other,
gently treading renewed ground
silent strides across tired sidewalks
she walks, her warm heart beating loudly
her vibrant spirit expansive
her soul mates here, now,
together they flow, forward.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
time ticks by
12/11/12
The typing is coming through
all the way from
Chichen Itza,
and Teotihuacan
where the masses are beginning
to mobilize
for a final countdown
12, 13, 14
tick tick tick
pattern recycles
the markings regenerate
it's what we call information
and the stories that makeup the fabric of
our universe
15, 16, 17
tick tick tick
ticking away an ending of sorts
peeling back the layers
unveiling the half-truths
of all that hasn't been working
for too long now
18, 19, 20
tick tick tick
it's not too late
to change your mind
to shift your ways
to call in the you you know you were born to be
a harmonious creature
21
tick
singing your bird song
a warm chest filled to bursting
with the beat of a rhythmic heart
where LOVE blooms
and so much life unfolds
22
TICK
our destiny awaits.
Until then, I sit here, typing
while you are there, waiting
someday soon, we shall
once again
meet,
but for now
time
ticks
by
tick tick tick tick.
The typing is coming through
all the way from
Chichen Itza,
and Teotihuacan
where the masses are beginning
to mobilize
for a final countdown
12, 13, 14
tick tick tick
pattern recycles
the markings regenerate
it's what we call information
and the stories that makeup the fabric of
our universe
15, 16, 17
tick tick tick
ticking away an ending of sorts
peeling back the layers
unveiling the half-truths
of all that hasn't been working
for too long now
18, 19, 20
tick tick tick
it's not too late
to change your mind
to shift your ways
to call in the you you know you were born to be
a harmonious creature
21
tick
singing your bird song
a warm chest filled to bursting
with the beat of a rhythmic heart
where LOVE blooms
and so much life unfolds
22
TICK
our destiny awaits.
Until then, I sit here, typing
while you are there, waiting
someday soon, we shall
once again
meet,
but for now
time
ticks
by
tick tick tick tick.
Monday, December 10, 2012
hippie
L. accused me of being a hippie on Saturday night. It's not a first - it's a label that others have been leveling against me ever since I could be found ditching dance class to practice my disc throwing skills in the quad at Sonoma State. In the more recent past, someone terminated our romantic relationship because of this same reason. I simply find it humorous; these boxes and the way we discover comfort in compartmentalizing ourselves. Personally, it all feels way too confining of a space for my expansive Spirit. I am human, pure and simple. Although, most of the time, 'animal' may even be the better adjective. ; )
Nonetheless, I get what is being hinted at - it's a way of being that these others are referring to. Yesterday, as I stood shaking out a rhythm on the bluff above Swami's Beach as one of SD's old school hippies banged on a dunbek, I danced a merry little jig. Perhaps, being a hippie simply means that I'll keep on dancing, happily, right unto the end. And, if ya ask me, that's not a bad way to go. Though, who's asking? Rarely ever anyone - yet, that obviously doesn't keep me from sharing. LR and I also sat on the grass together for a bit, when she mentioned the idea of over-disclosing one's life. I told her that, although there is a lot about my life that I share here, there is also much about me that is not for public consumption. It's not so much my shadows I am hiding - it's more of my protecting that which I hold most dear, which is only and ever my relationships.
And, really, that's what being a hippie means, doesn't it?
It means that what I value the most is Earth-based, Real-time, Humanimal Connection.
There's nothing more. Allowing yourself to be brainwashed by the notion that there is something more than this is, quite simply, denial.
You deserve to LIVE IN LOVE.
It is your rightful place as well as your Soul's destiny.
NOW.
Nonetheless, I get what is being hinted at - it's a way of being that these others are referring to. Yesterday, as I stood shaking out a rhythm on the bluff above Swami's Beach as one of SD's old school hippies banged on a dunbek, I danced a merry little jig. Perhaps, being a hippie simply means that I'll keep on dancing, happily, right unto the end. And, if ya ask me, that's not a bad way to go. Though, who's asking? Rarely ever anyone - yet, that obviously doesn't keep me from sharing. LR and I also sat on the grass together for a bit, when she mentioned the idea of over-disclosing one's life. I told her that, although there is a lot about my life that I share here, there is also much about me that is not for public consumption. It's not so much my shadows I am hiding - it's more of my protecting that which I hold most dear, which is only and ever my relationships.
And, really, that's what being a hippie means, doesn't it?
It means that what I value the most is Earth-based, Real-time, Humanimal Connection.
There's nothing more. Allowing yourself to be brainwashed by the notion that there is something more than this is, quite simply, denial.
You deserve to LIVE IN LOVE.
It is your rightful place as well as your Soul's destiny.
NOW.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
(I call it) MAGIC
Your kiss
like giant space rock
bursting into flame
overhead
shot through
this wandering soul/star
puncturing its atmosphere
leaving it to burn
in orange anticipation
and in the heat of red's passion
awaiting
your lips return.
After the start and before the end, there’s the middle -
it’s where YOU are.
You who taught me that it’s about the birds and the bees,
singing in the trees, as I sit up in Grandmother,
over on that golden hill, in the park, above the city.
Sometimes, I brought you up there with me,
then you brought your friends, and the relating goes on.
The hardest part is letting go.
Other times, I fool myself into believing that this is how
I release your visage and my need to receive directly from a very
specific “you”.
“You” know who you are....
My love is as deep as the ocean, as wide as the sands and
as expansive as the sky. May we continue
to slither and slide across space and through time,
together.
like giant space rock
bursting into flame
overhead
shot through
this wandering soul/star
puncturing its atmosphere
leaving it to burn
in orange anticipation
and in the heat of red's passion
awaiting
your lips return.
After the start and before the end, there’s the middle -
it’s where YOU are.
You who taught me that it’s about the birds and the bees,
singing in the trees, as I sit up in Grandmother,
over on that golden hill, in the park, above the city.
Sometimes, I brought you up there with me,
then you brought your friends, and the relating goes on.
The hardest part is letting go.
Other times, I fool myself into believing that this is how
I release your visage and my need to receive directly from a very
specific “you”.
“You” know who you are....
My love is as deep as the ocean, as wide as the sands and
as expansive as the sky. May we continue
to slither and slide across space and through time,
together.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
still peeling...
Peeling away the layers.
Of all that doesn't work.
Of our collective selfishness
and the lack of community it creates.
Peeling away the layers
hurts.
Because I too know
lovelessness.
I too know how to only think of me -
my needs and my wants.
I too know this path of destruction.
Peeling away the layers
is painful because I love you - my mirror; my self.
How can I not choose you?
Yet, unlike the me of yesterday
- after too many years of turbulence -
I no longer have to choose
the road to suffering.
Unlike the me I once was, I now honor my inner knowing,
and the Owl wisdom that has always guided my path,
as I now respond accordingly.
For the new world demands it.
Of all that doesn't work.
Of our collective selfishness
and the lack of community it creates.
Peeling away the layers
hurts.
Because I too know
lovelessness.
I too know how to only think of me -
my needs and my wants.
I too know this path of destruction.
Peeling away the layers
is painful because I love you - my mirror; my self.
How can I not choose you?
Yet, unlike the me of yesterday
- after too many years of turbulence -
I no longer have to choose
the road to suffering.
Unlike the me I once was, I now honor my inner knowing,
and the Owl wisdom that has always guided my path,
as I now respond accordingly.
For the new world demands it.
Loving US
"There's just something about San Diego," B. said this week.
In the midst of life, it's so easy to forget this truth. But, then, I go to our shows,
and I remember. I watch our creativity in motion - puppetry and improvised
electronica; the circus arts and acro-yogis; burners bringing the playa to the city;
healers bringing love to the people; humans simply being - here, now.
Enjoying the ride for what it's worth - because it's all there is.
"I want to work on my offering to our intentional community," she says,
and I respond, "Yes. What I notice is that you need to feed the regenerative fire
of HOME, of shared domesticity and the hearthstone," I say.
"It isn't about leaving. There is no gift in focusing solely on a future success
that will take us away from this place. Set your intentions and build towards them,
yes." (I sure do.) "And, know that without an ability to bee fully present and
consciously aware in this moment, the vision you seek will always remain just beyond your grasp. Even when you're living right in the middle of it." (The true hell.)
Dig in. Grow Deeper. ROOT.
Then, extend out. This is where our expansion resides.
In the midst of life, it's so easy to forget this truth. But, then, I go to our shows,
and I remember. I watch our creativity in motion - puppetry and improvised
electronica; the circus arts and acro-yogis; burners bringing the playa to the city;
healers bringing love to the people; humans simply being - here, now.
Enjoying the ride for what it's worth - because it's all there is.
"I want to work on my offering to our intentional community," she says,
and I respond, "Yes. What I notice is that you need to feed the regenerative fire
of HOME, of shared domesticity and the hearthstone," I say.
"It isn't about leaving. There is no gift in focusing solely on a future success
that will take us away from this place. Set your intentions and build towards them,
yes." (I sure do.) "And, know that without an ability to bee fully present and
consciously aware in this moment, the vision you seek will always remain just beyond your grasp. Even when you're living right in the middle of it." (The true hell.)
Dig in. Grow Deeper. ROOT.
Then, extend out. This is where our expansion resides.
Friday, December 7, 2012
still stalking
"I've got this virtual stalker," I told Bee, as we sat together at that volcanic cafe on a golden hill.
"Have you heard about Ho'oponopono?" she inquired. "A therapist once worked at a psych ward and helped to heal those around him by simply focusing on all that needed to be healed inside of his self," she shared.
"You're right," I responded. "I simply need to forgive me."
"Have you heard about Ho'oponopono?" she inquired. "A therapist once worked at a psych ward and helped to heal those around him by simply focusing on all that needed to be healed inside of his self," she shared.
"You're right," I responded. "I simply need to forgive me."
more feelings on LOVE
“Love does not
consist in gazing at each other,
but in looking
outward together in the same direction.”
--Antoine de
Saint-Exupéry
Thursday, December 6, 2012
DIS-EASE
"It you've got HATERS, then you're doing something right,"
screamed a young man's t-shirt yesterday. I smirked at the thought.
"Alright."
Obviously, I am a white woman born into privilege and luxury - how else can I explain the fortune of taking modeling classes as a girl? And, I was also born into a home filled with chaos as the turbulence of repressed e-motion reared its head like an explosive volcano - where the molten lava would end up was a daily, anxiety-ridden guessing game. What that meant for me, personally, was that I exited the womb with my fists up and swinging. And, I had to be that way to survive - because I had big people around me who liked to hit, pull, slap, beat and hurt. My temper was also trigger-like and, as a girl, I could be found flying off into fits of rage. I am no stranger to violence - I have been attacked and I have attacked. Although I prefer to live in harmony - as I know this vibration to be my Soul's truth - confrontation does not scare me, especially in a world so dangerously teetering out of balance.
When the stalking energy coming back in my direction was too intense, I reached out for support and temperature checks within my community. Only one person didn't return my call. I bumped into him the other day. "Why didn't you call me back?" I innocently inquired. "I was asking for help." He just stood there, and lied straight through his teeth, "I didn't get your voice mail." With him was a girl friend who just blankly looked on, allowing for his untruth. I noticed the yellow sallowness of the skin in his cheeks and how, since starting anti-depressants, he has lost a lot of muscle.
So, I've spent the past few weeks ruminating upon FEAR and it's role in my life. As my soul sister S. says, "You don't want to eliminate it, Cara." "You're right," I responded, "I'm just pruning it back." Fear, like dis-ease, is a bag that we all carry. My dis-ease is highly evident and I am willing to talk with you about it in person. I am not ashamed of being human - I want to work with my ugliness and shadows because we all have them. It is this "SHIT" that we churn into rich, nutritious fertilizer. One of my powerful brothers has a destructive addiction to pornography. He's open and honest about it and he even puts locks on his computer to protect his self. Like me, he's not perfect - he's simply a spiritual being having a human experience.
We all live in a time, now when there is no excuse to be merely perpetuating all of our dis-ease. At 5:30 am this morning, I received a text from a "stranger" offering to Skype with me. cuddly.squirter was the screen name and all I can think is how there are a multitude of opportunities for us to cuddle in real time with each other. If you are trolling the internet looking to fill your basic, primal desires, then step forward and fulfill your needs - no one will do it for you. Have courage - look for "Tantra" and/or "Polyamory" groups in your city. Chances are you will find cuddling groups there. Or, if you prefer to cuddle with other "Squirters" then, dear God, create your own group! It's what Craigslist and Meetup are for.
Whatever your kinky, little shadows are there are places for you with other human beings who will offer you what your Soul needs most - which is pure attention and simple affection. You do not have to be alone, hiding behind a computer screen. That's a choice - so, wake up! And, you just may want to scratch the surface of your addictions a little deeper - it's not about eliminating our destructive behaviors altogether. It's simply about looking at them with compassionate eyes, allowing for them and then actively choosing to focus on PRODUCTIVE, forward-moving actions.
screamed a young man's t-shirt yesterday. I smirked at the thought.
"Alright."
Obviously, I am a white woman born into privilege and luxury - how else can I explain the fortune of taking modeling classes as a girl? And, I was also born into a home filled with chaos as the turbulence of repressed e-motion reared its head like an explosive volcano - where the molten lava would end up was a daily, anxiety-ridden guessing game. What that meant for me, personally, was that I exited the womb with my fists up and swinging. And, I had to be that way to survive - because I had big people around me who liked to hit, pull, slap, beat and hurt. My temper was also trigger-like and, as a girl, I could be found flying off into fits of rage. I am no stranger to violence - I have been attacked and I have attacked. Although I prefer to live in harmony - as I know this vibration to be my Soul's truth - confrontation does not scare me, especially in a world so dangerously teetering out of balance.
When the stalking energy coming back in my direction was too intense, I reached out for support and temperature checks within my community. Only one person didn't return my call. I bumped into him the other day. "Why didn't you call me back?" I innocently inquired. "I was asking for help." He just stood there, and lied straight through his teeth, "I didn't get your voice mail." With him was a girl friend who just blankly looked on, allowing for his untruth. I noticed the yellow sallowness of the skin in his cheeks and how, since starting anti-depressants, he has lost a lot of muscle.
So, I've spent the past few weeks ruminating upon FEAR and it's role in my life. As my soul sister S. says, "You don't want to eliminate it, Cara." "You're right," I responded, "I'm just pruning it back." Fear, like dis-ease, is a bag that we all carry. My dis-ease is highly evident and I am willing to talk with you about it in person. I am not ashamed of being human - I want to work with my ugliness and shadows because we all have them. It is this "SHIT" that we churn into rich, nutritious fertilizer. One of my powerful brothers has a destructive addiction to pornography. He's open and honest about it and he even puts locks on his computer to protect his self. Like me, he's not perfect - he's simply a spiritual being having a human experience.
We all live in a time, now when there is no excuse to be merely perpetuating all of our dis-ease. At 5:30 am this morning, I received a text from a "stranger" offering to Skype with me. cuddly.squirter was the screen name and all I can think is how there are a multitude of opportunities for us to cuddle in real time with each other. If you are trolling the internet looking to fill your basic, primal desires, then step forward and fulfill your needs - no one will do it for you. Have courage - look for "Tantra" and/or "Polyamory" groups in your city. Chances are you will find cuddling groups there. Or, if you prefer to cuddle with other "Squirters" then, dear God, create your own group! It's what Craigslist and Meetup are for.
Whatever your kinky, little shadows are there are places for you with other human beings who will offer you what your Soul needs most - which is pure attention and simple affection. You do not have to be alone, hiding behind a computer screen. That's a choice - so, wake up! And, you just may want to scratch the surface of your addictions a little deeper - it's not about eliminating our destructive behaviors altogether. It's simply about looking at them with compassionate eyes, allowing for them and then actively choosing to focus on PRODUCTIVE, forward-moving actions.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
MODEL
As a child, I was very androgynous looking. Mainly, it was because my mother refused to let my hair grow long. "It's too hard to deal with," she would say. So, throughout elementary school, as I tumbled my way across both gymnasium floors and elementary school playgrounds, I was often mistaken for a boy by adults who didn't know me. This was a bit mortifying yet, I felt inept at verbally communicating my truth to these silly, grown folks. I always looked up to my big sister to be my voice. "She's a girl," she'd retort. Then, after a few years, the people started telling my mother, "You should put her in modeling school." I would just shrug my shoulders at this suggestion. "How strange!" I thought.
At twelve years old, I was being managed by a local modeling agency. I got a few gigs doing print media - my image decorated Halloween costume bags and a tie-dye making t-shirt kit. Eager to impress my peers after a natural fall off of a popular culture pedastool, I fairly widely distributed my headshot across my middle school campus. What can I say but, oh, to be human!? While strutting my stuff on a catwalk in Los Angeles, I knew my experience was simply about personal development. After all, my modeling classes taught me basic, important skills, such as: how to apply makeup for my face; how to dress; public speaking; acting; and relating to the camera as though it's a person. Ha! I also knew my destiny - I am 5'2," with a body type that comes from my paternal grandmother, a voluptuous and sturdy woman of German Jewish stock. Thus, I was fine when the ride came to an end and I moved on to the next adventure of high school and the performing arts.
So, for my #36, my dear brother KM, of Stone's Throw Photography once again brought out the model in me. K. and I worked together at REI years ago, where we first discussed his practicing his craft while I received documentation of my ephemeral and organic art philosophy, which I could then use as demonstration in my graduate school portfolio. This past October, Kevin and I completed our fourth photo shoot together. Kevin has photographed me at Calaveras, a preserve of land near my parent's home where I was bitten by a rattlesnake; on Swami's Beach in Encinitas, with one of my main dance partners, E.A.C.; at Torrey Pines State Beach; and then in downtown San Diego, both at Las Raices Collective and Balboa Park. (Yes, he also took the two photos of me above.)
So, here I am - pretending, perhaps, like I am still that girl of my past - and here we are, living in an era of celebrity culture and an over-the-top narcissism that fuels our social media. What can I type but that I am a product of my environment?
Last year, A.F. was in conversation with a local hip-hop dancer who had pitched a modeling reality series to one of TV's many networks. "The Street of Dreams" was to be filmed on a glitzy La Jolla street, as it luxuriously wound down from Mt. Soledad. On a summer afternoon, four of us discussed the possibility of all of our working together, while also shooting an episode in the Prosperity Hive.
That day, we spent the time together talking about this word, MODEL. We ruminated upon how it's been sadly taken out of context by today's standards and we agreed that we would all build toward a vision in which the MODELS we show off to the world were: people of diverse skin color, body shape and ideology; friendly neighbors who demonstrate loving care and civic participation; and adults of integrity who work towards more than just their own carnal desires and primal needs.
Here on this Blog, I've declared that I am holding myself up as a MODEL of Un~Sustainability.
And, perhaps, if you were to peel back my layers a little further, I just might share that I'd bee delighted to bee considered someone in that first category, as well. But, I'll just keep my head down and building forward, as I silently hope that you will see my truth, step up beside me, hold my hand and dig in.
At twelve years old, I was being managed by a local modeling agency. I got a few gigs doing print media - my image decorated Halloween costume bags and a tie-dye making t-shirt kit. Eager to impress my peers after a natural fall off of a popular culture pedastool, I fairly widely distributed my headshot across my middle school campus. What can I say but, oh, to be human!? While strutting my stuff on a catwalk in Los Angeles, I knew my experience was simply about personal development. After all, my modeling classes taught me basic, important skills, such as: how to apply makeup for my face; how to dress; public speaking; acting; and relating to the camera as though it's a person. Ha! I also knew my destiny - I am 5'2," with a body type that comes from my paternal grandmother, a voluptuous and sturdy woman of German Jewish stock. Thus, I was fine when the ride came to an end and I moved on to the next adventure of high school and the performing arts.
So, for my #36, my dear brother KM, of Stone's Throw Photography once again brought out the model in me. K. and I worked together at REI years ago, where we first discussed his practicing his craft while I received documentation of my ephemeral and organic art philosophy, which I could then use as demonstration in my graduate school portfolio. This past October, Kevin and I completed our fourth photo shoot together. Kevin has photographed me at Calaveras, a preserve of land near my parent's home where I was bitten by a rattlesnake; on Swami's Beach in Encinitas, with one of my main dance partners, E.A.C.; at Torrey Pines State Beach; and then in downtown San Diego, both at Las Raices Collective and Balboa Park. (Yes, he also took the two photos of me above.)
So, here I am - pretending, perhaps, like I am still that girl of my past - and here we are, living in an era of celebrity culture and an over-the-top narcissism that fuels our social media. What can I type but that I am a product of my environment?
Last year, A.F. was in conversation with a local hip-hop dancer who had pitched a modeling reality series to one of TV's many networks. "The Street of Dreams" was to be filmed on a glitzy La Jolla street, as it luxuriously wound down from Mt. Soledad. On a summer afternoon, four of us discussed the possibility of all of our working together, while also shooting an episode in the Prosperity Hive.
That day, we spent the time together talking about this word, MODEL. We ruminated upon how it's been sadly taken out of context by today's standards and we agreed that we would all build toward a vision in which the MODELS we show off to the world were: people of diverse skin color, body shape and ideology; friendly neighbors who demonstrate loving care and civic participation; and adults of integrity who work towards more than just their own carnal desires and primal needs.
Here on this Blog, I've declared that I am holding myself up as a MODEL of Un~Sustainability.
And, perhaps, if you were to peel back my layers a little further, I just might share that I'd bee delighted to bee considered someone in that first category, as well. But, I'll just keep my head down and building forward, as I silently hope that you will see my truth, step up beside me, hold my hand and dig in.
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