Archive | November, 2013

the conditionality of trust

25 Nov


I have had some questions about my attitude toward a particular student in one of  my literature classes.  My frustration and impatience with this student has turned my idea of myself as a patient, kind, and supportive teacher on its head – marvelous!  She came just at the right time.

This confining role of goodness I have created for myself needed some examination.  In walks B, 1/2 hour late to every class, her hand up to stop the class mid-flow at her late arrival with personal matters, no book, not prepared, staying after every class trying to manipulate the conversation into praise for herself…what?  Are you kidding?  Sounds cruel to me but what I see is low functioning with arrogance.  To move out of low functioning, she will need to understand the tough work ahead of her.  I am unable to stay in my shallow role of helper with her. I am having to learn to express my genuine frustration as a mirror of truth, while also operating with compassion in the moment.  Whew.

Do I trust myself to do the right thing?  When I err on the side of helpfulness without reflecting back to her the consequences of her own behavior, I am not honoring myself or her.  When I err on the side of harsh judgement, I am lost to the possibility of change.   Has she earned my unconditional acceptance?   No!  How do I need to reflect her failure back to her?  How do I give her my honest feedback with integrity – for her benefit, for my own?  How do I help her and myself establish healthy boundaries?  How do I keep hope and promise for the potential for change?

Trust  is not a given with everybody, unconditionally, yet the idea of trust is so golden.  It feels like one can extend the olive branch of love to all, yet trust is actually conditional.  We do not blindly trust until there is agreement.  And agreement can be broken at any time.  We enter into conditional agreement with others.  As we fulfill our agreements, trust grows.

You can build lots of trust over time, only to lose it by a single instance of broken agreement.  Trust has to then be re-built.

The most important trust relationship in my life is with myself.   Once TRUST is established with myself, the rest clicks into place, it feels to me.  When I trust my own self, I can read the truth of my frustration within as a mirror to help reflect back to the student where she may need to reflect on her own behavior.  I can trust myself to stay open in the moment, to feel what I feel, to accept and express all of my feelings, even those that feel unacceptable.  Perhaps I am in the kindergarten class, and all of what I am writing here is like spelling out the A,B C’s.  That is okay.  I may be a bit behind by my false idea of unconditional trust.  I am learning what I need to learn by the experience life hands me.  I am grateful for this student who finds my hidden buttons and pushes them often to help me to see where to examine.

I am learning!  I reflect back to my student B my boundaries, my expectations, my detached judgements that my job requires of me.   I honor my own impatience instead of sweeping it under the rug in some fake dance of compassion.  I have compassion for my own limitations and thus reflect honestly back a truer trust, for real.  When I give myself an outlet for this truth, my compassion and patience grow!

give it away

22 Nov






who builds the matrix?

19 Nov

matrix of life

I once resided in a matrix built on the idea that a marriage had to survive no matter what.  Who built this grid?  I did.  Granted, the master designs for this planned community were laid out long before I came along.  I built onto a long tradition with my own dead ended ideas of right and wrong.  With the strong pressure for staying married, for following the social conventions, I can totally understand why I held on to those ideas for so long, 20 years in earth time 🙂

I came to smell the foul breath of dying from within.   From a deadend stop where I left myself no options,  I  wished that  All would  be over soon.  There are lenses through which the cake has always been too sweet, the dance chaotic, the dress stained, the milk turned sour, and the flowers faded and browning.  Oye.  What a sketchy neighborhood this is!

In this box,  the only legitimate reasons to leave a marriage were simple:   physical abuse, infidelity or drug addiction.   I was blind to any other options in my own reality even in the midst of a crumbling relationship and unreasonable conditions for long years of spiraling down.  I kept a smile on my face through misery and worked my diligent magic trying to fix everything that was being broken on purpose one step ahead of me.  The moment of realization was a toggle switch, I can’t fix this.  My job was to walk away in love.  Oh my, the light came on and my feet did walk in the direction that I needed to go.   The matrix crumbled in an instant and all the previous madness disappeared like the illusion that it was.  Gone.  Pooof!

Welcome to a  tiny borough that once existed in an overgrown and dying city within my little head.

Imagine the worlds we have all created, patterns of thoughts with neon signs and imagined progressions from one place to another, when all the while we are within a false grid with high walls at the edges.  Add them  all together and see them overlaid with the years of matrices before we got here, overlaid by some people who wish us no good, overlaid by the patterns of shadows made from some hidden darkness, overlaid by the game board we agreed upon before we came into our identities.  This is one damned beautiful and complicated basement game of Dungeons and Dragons – this life!  I made it all, or agreed to dwell within this mess, until I was miserable enough to say phew, this sucks; I am going to figure out what is wrong here.

The exit out does not have to be as uncomfortable as this birth scene, eh?


The game board was constructed before I even came here, yet it is added upon by me whenever I am unconsciously creating with my thoughts.  I am one of the builders of the Matrix.  I see myself spinning my little corner web, yet from my new angle, I also see the grand design of unfathomable size and elaboration.  We are born into practices, constructions, conditioning, cultures, religions, mindsets that we absorb as naturally as we breath.  I fell into living life in each and every constructed path set before me.  I’m was a good girl, I was.

Grids exist through beliefs; there are brilliant systems created for limiting human potential.  In these systems I have read about and sense oversight, myself, slight of hand, smoke and mirrors, distraction.  Who laid the patterns?  Who uses us to fill in the material with our divine spark, usurping our goodness wittingly.

This is the part I go full out woo.  You may want to stop here 🙂

Could some of these matrices we live in come from something beyond that which we can comprehend, but we can sense?  Yes, we know of greed, we know of control, power, selfishness, psychotics, narcissists.   Humans do have the potential for wrong.   But in a world of mostly good and kind people from my 47 years of walking around this world, how do we end up with a structured path set out that leads us through a world of disease?   Could some of the matrices come from eons of time, creations set out for the specific purpose of trapping our creative powers?  Who are the Archons, the Nagas, the Annunaki?  Why are the beasts afraid to show themselves, only acting from behind a veil, puppeting such clownish villains down here?


More interesting to me, though, is the idea that all of these elaborate games are in agreement for our growth.  The dark shadows we can explore collectively can overwhelm us into fear, paranoia, and powerless feelings, yet with just a little step back, we can come to the knowledge we are in a game, a game with high stakes.  Perhaps we need it to feel real so real growth can be made.

The more ways in which we can know ourselves truly, ease the suffering of others, wake up, fear less, laugh often and realize all is under control, ultimately, the more we will be able to dissolve and recreate anew.  We have chosen and designed our game.

There really isn’t a wall around me.  There is no path except to reject the one worn by conformity, conditioning, repetition.  There aren’t boundaries and acceptable routes.  Everything is open to fresh new choices in every moment.  How do we escape from the middle of the maze once we know this?

When I can catch myself headed down the deadend streets, I stop and just be.     The present moment and dropped identity are the trumpets of truth to disintegrate my walls. I see my own personal version of the Walls of Jerico come tumbling down.

The little matrices I spin and add to the whole world of delusion are getting caught and stopped more and more before they begin.  When I stop the incorrect thinking, all of the sudden color is brighter, smells are overwhelming, life is not an HD movie;  my daughters are living breathing beings interacting with me here and now, what did she just say?   oh my god, how delightful and i almost missed it weaving my world of thoughts over here.

Sometimes I even imagine I’ve just arrived, fresh from the other side, full of the truth of the game from the skybox.   I am a quarterback dropped into a living body in the 4th quarter.  Any move is possible without the weight of my story or  imagined limitations.  I am Bill Murray in Groundhog Day; I am new and without chains, here changing the game, dissolving the walls, spinning no webs.

escaping the gravity me

12 Nov


One drop of instigation

at the center point

of me

begins the swirling action

that grows


All the tender fronds of one

intertwine upon this dust, this earth which

spins and speeds

around a sun that feeds me thus.


this solar system clocks in another sum:

rushing thousands

of relative miles

round dark mysteries unsung.

And yet the spinning deep within

can pull me out as well.

My own dark seething works just fine

to suck off my false self.

Tucked away sometimes I am,

pretending that I don’t travel,

though my brain and bones and ears

do register each mile.

The more I camouflage 

the more I scream  See Me –

 drunk on my own deep fried bullshit

wondering just how to Be –

This road trip that’s so short and fast,

in this well supported host,

shows me that

I circle round

that which I need most.

My choices slim to infinite:

will I sleep and gyre astray or

hammer blast facade away

moving on and out the fray?

Who started on the journey out

is not the same who sees it done.

Who rides the spiral out from here?

Who calls this game some fun?


in love with love

5 Nov


I eat my food with my eyes closed.  I feel the texture of the cracker on my tongue.  I taste the salty, taste the sweet.  I chew slowly while I see the experience in utter darkness – my tastebuds projected on an empty screen.

When I forget, I forgive myself immediately.  I laugh at my sudden panic and call myself sweetheart and precious.

I appreciate how soft the skin feels as I give my arms a gentle rub from shoulder to finger tips.  I let my hands talk of love.

I close my eyes in the shower and breath in the wonder of the steam; I feel each stream of water as it touches my head, my shoulders, my back.  I love  the legs that hold me upright here for such an experience as this.  I bow to the many who never once have had the sensuality of a hot shower, but instead bathe in streams, muddy puddles, out of buckets;  I envision them in comfort as well.  I stand in the knowledge of this privilege.  I stand and enjoy for them for now, without guilt but with pleasure and gratitude and awareness of the puzzling flow of fate and birth.   I send love to the four corners of us all in every walk.

When I go to bed, I rub my hand along the sheets.  Ah so wonderful to have clean bedding to cover a platform that cradles me so.   I love the solid soft that holds me here – I feel the spirit of the atoms coming together to make this bed to support my rest.

I fall into darkness that turns to places of teaching.  I allow the lessons and the visits.  I bring some strangeness  back that wishes to enhance my waking. I  remember the communion with the self with whom no language applies.  I thank her for creating the dreamscape which is so like the waking one, a holodeck built just for me.  I open to the gifting of strong feelings, though they may make me uncomfortable, for when I really feel them fearlessly, without blinking, I seem to learn faster.

I realize I dwarf this planet, yet here I am, shrunken, hilariously so, into a name, an identity, a zip code.

I accept messes my eyes see,  I clean them up gladly and share some tea from my grandmother’s pot.   I make the breakfast, pay the bills, close my eyes with every sip of morning.

In these ways i remember when I forget.

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