Archive | April, 2013

the area of pause

9 Apr

scenic-overlook-of-doubtful-sound-in-new-zealand

The camera that follows me around catches me staring into space, not thinking, pausing.  From the outside, who can tell the difference?

At this pausing, gratitude is felt for the pregnancy found in this springtime spaciousness.  What is bursting forth?   If I were to compare this time to a short while ago, my now is much sweeter.  I can see how The now is abundant.  The now contains enough space for smooth feathers and long sighs, even as the work load piles up,  emergencies continue,  the bowling balls of obligation are dropped again and again – no matter – no problem – space gives space for everything.

Have we entered somewhere new?  Or have we stopped to catch our breath at the scenic overpass where we can mark our progress?  Have we shed some skin for good?

I see my use of “we.”  Am I a we?  Do I think in plural because of my daughters?   Do I mean me along with you who reads along these lines?   Are you too in pause, pregnant pause?

Today, I am bowing to Bukowski for his naked, boogieman truth, for his cries out to us across the years – helping us to unsee, unlearn; rolling clear here, as far as I can tell.

The mirror we hold to ourselves we hold for each other!  Looping overlapping pinging back returns through this beautiful poets lens for Pause:)

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what is meant by now?

7 Apr

coffeeshoplast nights now – I am in a small town north of Charleston, SC in a starbucks.  I got the coveted corner comfy chair.  It is saturday night and I am in the a place to be, in this town, it would seem.  I am grading essays and waiting for eden to finish watching her friend in a pirate version of much ado about nothing.  Too far to go home in between, but I am shifting my whole body every few minutes to stay awake.  I’ve graded two essays in almost 2 hours. lord.  I am slow.

A family with a baby walking by holding on to corners of furniture captures my interest as they share my corner for a while before a man sits down and eats a bag of chips beside me. Peripherally I can see that he is unaware of himself and his movements as he puts the corner of the bag up to his lips and shakes the crumbs into his mouth, hobbitish, his outline, solid and close to the earth.  I am grading and distracted yet trying not to be.  The place suddenly appears to be clearing out so finally I allow my eyes to rest upon my neighbor in the next chair and focus;  everything I have gathered without my direct sight is true of him.  He meets my gaze and we discuss whether we are about to be thrown out.  It isn’t long before he tells me he is single but thrilled to be a part of the largest mega-church in the country and unzips his hoodie to reveal the name of his mega-church.   While I do sense his intentions of kindness with his sharing,  I do not pretend; I respond in truth,and I shake my head and say I have no interest in visiting your church.  But I smile and wish him a wonderful night and he smiles in return and off I go to sit outside the play, and wait for it to finish and for eden to come out with a full report of a stage too small with scenery too big.  Chloe waits at home, tired after a day at the beach with friends.  All of this is known, but does not need the mind to be so.

Am I a creation of the light walking around in a body?  What could be the point of  anything?  The still point beckons me away from the outward.  There is no thing there.  The world makes it easy by not courting me with champagne and lobster tails – the quieting of my mind is where the chocolate mousse and ecstasy beckon.  Yesterday is a created myth – stories of  a self, true and not true and tomorrow is a dizzying swirl of confetti – my imagined feet dangle beneath me as I hover over an imperceptible void of  NOW.  What is now?  It is not this moment.  Now this is something –  Presence present.

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less than

4 Apr

Me_and_Math_by_Frodse

Looking back I can see that for a long time, the math of my identity was this:

many things > me

This is an equation that was ever present yet hidden in plain sight.  i wouldn’t have admitted to doing this math constantly – comparing myself to others and always imagining I came up lacking.

When this basic equation sets the value of everything, other dynamics can enter, such as:

many things > me + (a+b+c+d…..)

A natural response to this equation is to add things to oneself to feel less less than, but the basic symbol will still stand in the middle, affecting all components of the equation.  You cannot add enough things to change the sign.

When you have incorrect math in your head, you are not relating to your experience with your true value.

Some people manage to flip it to be:  everything < me.

But most of us can see that this is just a reaction to feeling less than, too.

False equations are heavy and painful and incorrect.

Here is a helpful equation:

everything = me

when this is true, it is a short leap to:       all is me.

Seems I couldn’t change my equation until I was ready.  So when I see this incorrect math in the reflection of other people, I can love them and wait patiently for them from the other side of the equal sign, but I cannot solve the inequality in their heads.

When we  wake to see the real numbers and can remember the real worth of ourselves, we learn the value of everything!

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tap dancing on glass

2 Apr

astaire

It do turn on a dime. One minute you are getting in the bed, then you are called out of bed, a bottle from recycling breaks, things happen, and before you know it, you are trying to get the bleeding to stop and figure out how to get stitches at 11:30pm on easter sunday…you find yourself sitting with your ex in a hospital waiting room, making small talk in the middle of the night, singing praises every moment  that you are no longer tied to his upturned wagon, though grateful, too, he is the sort who will take you to the emergency room!   Sitting in the room, being sutchered, you memorize the wallpaper, the curtain with its sage green grass pattern and the dry erase board with the nurses name, kirsten, the orderlies name, storm and the  doctor’s name, Blue. And you think, while the numbing shots hurt like bloody hell (are you suddenly british?) You are truly here in this moment, because it is exactly the kind of time like all time to be present, when you can feel the pull to check out because it hurts, because it is scary, because it is proof you are not steering the ship; instead you find yourself merging with all the details here in this room, shivering from trauma and cold – You are here – and this moment is just as alive as  all moments, and you are as alive as you have ever been – bloody and beautiful. You are  laughing – life is funny. You see what is here; clicking salon-perfected fingernails at the sign in desk,  talk of full moons with the wheel chair guy,  storm has a tattoo with the date 1942. and  you ARE.

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