Archive | November, 2017

dressing the BEing

13 Nov

From an early age, I picked up from the environment the importance of looking acceptable on the outside in order to be included. Most of us have conditioning in this area, right?  All of us, really;  how could we not, or else we would probably all be wearing pjs or even going about naked based on what feels good to us.  I’ve lived in some places where the outside appearance was more important than other places.  Perhaps these environments of my earlier days reflected my own understanding in these areas as well.  I was shaped by (or reflected in) some strongly conforming environments and some strongly class-conscious spaces.

A really great outfit is a relative thing. One might judge a great outfit to wear based on comfort and craftsmanship. One might also judge a great outfit to be what others will perceive as cool or as pricey. These examples are just a few options on a whole spectrum of variety in the land of belief in a personal self looking for practicality,  comfort,  value,  reflecting group think, class systems, sub culture, in short, all relating to separation.  The clothing of Adam and Eve suddenly becomes a myth in my mind today with a practical fallout in apparel all beginning with a misperception of separation.

Oh goodness, what a long way to get to a little anecdote from life recently.  A momentary flicker across the screen of self, but interesting to me nonetheless, so much so that I find myself writing much more than I would have imagined about this micro-moment in my day.

My friend invited me out to explore a plot of land that she and her husband have purchased with several others to develop for themselves. It was a beautiful day and so fun to explore unkempt land full of tall trees and birds and mushrooms. A horse farms on one side brought the sounds of an excited braying horse.  My friend’s dog Shelby is 14 and not doing well, so she was not able to come with us, but I got to pet her before and after our adventure into the woods.

On my way home from the visit, I stopped by Lowe’s for some paint I needed for a project. As I made my way through the store, I had several friendly interactions with people who work there, but on an aisle in the back of the store, an elegant gentleman looked me over in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time.  He looked me up and down as if to say with his face and eyes that I was not up to his standards, in dress, as I took it mean.  I felt a moment of my old conditioning come back; first I felt a shame, then a sort of prideful turn around occurred in my head to myself, saying “Well, I’m just at Lowe’s – I’m sure these clothes are perfectly fine for this errand.”  I had a momentary feeling of being a SELF who needed defending against the casual look of a stranger.  It wasn’t until a few aisles down that I took a look at myself and I laughed (audibly:).

This is how I looked. Because of petting Shelby so vigorously, my black clothes were covered in white dog hair.  Then because we had tromped through the woods without a trail, I was covered in seeds and weeds and brambles.  In short, I was a bit of a mess. The amazing thing was not that one man had noticed my state of disarray, but that no one else had made me aware of this fact in the least.  How beautiful that my friend and the workers and the shoppers had not given me any disapproval whatsoever.  From my earlier experiences in the posh posh tisk tisk environments of some times of my lives, I now was able to flow in the world unselfconsciously and to be met with the blind acceptance. Lowe’s as a full-length mirror of then and now.

I hope your day is full of unselfconscious joy, dog hair and woodsy remains!

i’ve a new name for it

8 Nov

–the vast neutrality.

 

what glorious lonely can do

4 Nov

how many years did i run and cover over the hole?

not able to know the wholeness

until I stopped

and felt it–

empty,

nothing there,

alone.

 

leave me to it.

don’t soothe me,

it needs to be seen–

i’m lonely for —

union.

lonely aches

behind the sternum,

and leaks out of my eyes.

i’ve the courage now to feel it–

lonely,

and I’m pressing into that bruise.

-letting it be there.

letting is

composting me

letting is

squeezing out juice

yet here i am,  still asking lonely

grant me

courage without aid

without aspirin

without the phone

without the tubes (You and cathode ray).

hobby callings

flattened.

i am headed to flatline

daring  defribulation when

either side of death

is now okay.

the pulse is not mine to keep or lose.

ha, never was.

ARGH,

the tone is way too serious, here.

from lonely comes

hilarity

this serious poem is a

belly laugh!

but first i seem to be

leaning into whatever

had me running

to begin with.

for years.

good god

what!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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