Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don’ts,
Not the God who ever does Anything weird,
But the God who knows only 4 words.
And keeps repeating them, saying:
“Come Dance with Me , come dance.”
I had a knee-jerk response to what I perceived as strangeness with the robe and waterfall, and wasn’t sure I wanted to post, but this teaching did overlap with some dynamics that were unfolding in my little corner.
After I posted and received a few comments,I became uncomfortable. I debated about removing the video, but the comments section became full of interesting takes on teachers and words and individual paths…The energy there made me leave this teaching up. In a 27 minute video, there are many words spoken; some of these words resonate, some now seem discordant to me in a new day and new light.
The part that resonates with me is the concept of sitting deeply within for that is what had been on my small fractal menu lately, a pointing to a field beyond wanting. It seems there does come a point when all attainment begins to be seen as nice but still ephemeral in its relation to the core flow. Attainment and loss are naturally arising in life. Beyond this cycle, there seems to be an awareness that the self sits with the self in rain and snow, and in tears and ache, and in sun and breeze, and in welling up and lazy stillness, and in booming pain and gentle ease. The perception of anything is allowed to play through while the self remains, no matter what, come what may.
In light of this sitting with anything that arises, sorrow or joy – I sit with the moment of posting this video and the moment of moving on. I sit with ones who will listen and respond to me with open hearts without judgement. I sit with myself when I am full of ideas and when I can empty myself out of these ideas. It is saturday morning, the 21st, solstice, and a particularly clear and simple bird song is coming through my window with the morning light – that sun light that will illuminate my corner of the world for a longest day of the year. Love to you who venture here.
Though the ruckus at our table may make you fall out of your chair,
don’t pretend; it’s not like you haven’t heard
the word FUCK before.
Bow your head to this,
the smallest of things are given:
blueberry,
grain of rice,
a tear,
an apology unforeseen,
a smile.
Rough waters can calm to a gentle bath
with I’m sorryI spoke to you that way – yet
easy to miss
is the enormous turning
that has taken place within
for those words to ever be spoken.
Gather the smallest parts
of you
that you have flung away.
Sit down and eat together.
Remain through awkward silences;
wait out the shouting match;
the profanity, cruelty, fear,
see the pain beneath the anger;
hold tight, hold tongue,
and remain.
Miracles are often on the other side of hopelessness,
believe me, only
micro moments on the other side;
you might as well be in a new
world now, one hidden and impossible
only a moment ago.
Peace is here,
if you have the courage to
sit still
when every part of you
wants to flee.
*******************************
I was one of those moms who worked hard to soften her voice. I have a driving force that longs for interactions to be lovely. My learning has often had to come with some bold and ugly contrast to the soft and lovely shell to help bring me into the REAL. And what is not to love about REAL. We are hungry for truth, I think; well, I know I am. And truth has the space to be whatever it is – it isn’t wrapping itself inside a packet for sale. The stench of pain needs space to breath.
The life of the modern American teen is seasoned with raw and brutal information – I do see evidence of the Kali Yuga’s growing darkness since the time of my teen years and I do not often know how to help my girls navigate these waters. Giving space for the truth of their feelings and experience often looks a bit intense and ugly, to my tender eyes, at least. But I have enjoyed a rawness I’ve seen in film for the reflection it offers back to me.
I love family scenes in movies.
Some are able to capture the grittiness that comes from the mashup of personalities that come to gather at the family table. I embrace that stab at truth, for our world often just reflects to us the washed up, dressed up, keep a lid on it version of reality. We need to see the underside of interaction, for in this shadowy version, we can see souls at work on the deeper threads and themes of growth – the intense growth that people have chosen in the experiences of family.
Walking through the ugly helps us get to the otherside, but denying the ugly, turning away – only extends and increases the shadow. The messy yuck of feelings, denied their voice, grow into demonic howls of torture.
I say, now after all these years, give messiness the floor when need be. I will be a mom who shows up for the graduation, dressed appropriately, as long as I am also showing up for the pie throwing (turkey in the lap) at the dinner table later.
It takes courage to live this life, full of personalities, suffering, imperfection, failure, the word fuck flying around the room in anger! Squeeze the illusions of conflict, confusion, identity, jealousy, every flavor of your suffering, out of your being in the vice grip of the family table. Walk away with a diploma from this Earth School.
Life as Improv 