Tag Archives: Awakening

ripe fruit

1 Sep

We are such easy pickins’ – humans.

We wear our desires on our faces.

We project our imagined weakness

from a bullhorn.

We tell everything we know from our eyes,

and we hardly

ever blink.

Occasionally, a man wears disdain

and distances himself like a toddler

full of no, but even that

is a challenge as cute as stomping feet.

We sit behind desks and ask to be taught

that which we can easily teach ourselves.

We prostrate at the feet of the famous

and

the physically pretty.

We fawn at the hem of the fashions

and yet

there is something so powerful in our surrendering.

We sign contracts pledging  our loyalty without asking to see proof.

We give and lose and give again.

One leg up, one leg down, one leg up again.

The power of the human

lies in the soft soft underbelly

of vulnerability.

There is power in our foolish ways of trusting,

in our back resting, belly up offering we give

in our hopes for a gentle rub.

The hidden rulers, which seem separate but are not,

We are thee, too,

with their/our painful daggers

to cut into that soft flesh – we

don’t understand the strength in the weakness.

They/we shun the trust and the beauty

of the stupid creators that we are – yet

They too are in a type of sleep –

a dream of forgetting –

delighting in a puppet play where they pull all the strings

yet leap from their own shadows.

The mystery of the humans will never make sense.

How can a swaddled baby be more powerful than a corporate Titan

towering in his empire built on human backs?

Yet it is.

And we are all expressions of the same

same same…what?

creator?

god?

impulse?

I don’t know – obviously

I’m stretching.

This I do know, but I don’t know how…

The helpless, clueless,

trusting

newborn idiot

has only to beckon

and

he can reign down blessings.

When the sleeping infants wake,

what wonders will  unfold.

(I keep tinkering with these words – they are driving me crazy.  I want to delete but I will let them stand now – I witness in myself the learning that comes through words, reflection, edits, flow, letting go.  words scribbled with the end of a stick into the sand just before the tide comes in taking the words out to sea:)

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the greatest fall

18 Jun

falling-down

Talk of spirituality can be such a turn off.  I know that feeling of squirm inside when someone speaks about spirit.  Squish and uck!

Such a personal and internal thing – the soul beneath the experiences – the self in a cave behind the waterfall flow of life.

When it is spoken of, pointed to, preached about, proselytized outward, sung across the mountain – I turn into goth girl, sarcastic and cynic – blue about the lips.

I apologize for bringing it up if it makes you squirm.

In my journey, the floor has been yanked from underneath me over and over again.  Just a few: the death of my brother when I was 14, loss of religion, loss of the conditioned aspects of life – roles – and a near death experience that brought me to a brink and made me choose to live.   When there was no ground beneath me,  what helped get me back into a body, back into the journey?

Voices and words of teachers that I found on my own had a place for me.  Every teacher is just a pointer, showing his own way to a deeper thread, which he himself will tell you is unknowable.

I was just finishing typing this post and the doorbell rang.  Some lovely southern ladies with hats and dresses came by and gave me a pamphlet for a convention about their religion.  Hello.  Didn’t even know the doorbell worked!

 I hold gently the words as I gradually begin to relax and float down the stream, dissolving little bit by little bit into the water.

Today I get to meet my friend visiting from far away for a downtown Charleston bimble and explore!

Today I choose to live.

Sometimes people say they can smell freedom.
They say they fall more and more into the embrace of That which is unspeakable.
And I have to acknowledge that this is not merely an intellectual thought or conviction.
It is a deep inner thing; a felt experience in the Heart beyond words and thoughts, and yet I have to tell you that what you are falling into Is and was already here—unchangingly.
It is what you already are and no distance is involved.
Has anyone ever heard of a falling where there was no distance?
This is the fall where there is no distance.
It’s the greatest fall; the falling away of delusion.

~ Mooji

10th of June, 2013

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dying to die

17 May

skeleton

 Some days are a funeral – for no reason at all.

I wear all black and march around in a most somber way.

But what a relief  – the death march.

Dying is only letting go of that which wishes to suffer.

Backing away from life? perhaps, or

cocooning, while

watching the melodramatic death scene,

hand to the brow and a long, horrible moan.

I sink deep into the grief for the false self,

then come out laughing,

dancing my way to the grave over and over.

And eventually – (NOW) – i will know,

There’s nothing that can die that is not better off that way…

Why wait?

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a happening

14 May

firebrigade

Can we every convey the surreality of the overlapping patterns of this experience here in a body?

In the 60’s, there was a theatre form called happenings.  A professor described this movement to our class, and I was filled for a longing to see it, participate in it.  Here is how wiki defines it:  A happening is a performance, situation meant to be considered art, usually as performance art. Happenings take place anywhere, and are often multi-disciplinary, with a nonlinear narrative and the active participation of the audience. Key elements of happenings are planned, but artists sometimes retain room for improvisation. This new media art aspect to happenings eliminates the boundary between the artwork and its viewer. Henceforth, the interactions between the audience and the artwork makes the audience, in a sense, part of the art.

My professor shared that upon leaving a happening, he saw a fire truck go by, and he thought it was a part of the show, but really it was just life “happening.”

Last night’s flow was so very cinematic I want to try to capture; i do not know if i can.

Eden was auditioning for 12th Night last night, a play which we all know is ripe with gender fun, which for a 14 year old is pushing envelopes.  I was to drop her off close to the theatre and stay with the car in that she didn’t want to seem like a kid with a parent nearby, but she needed me nearby. (grin)

So I find a spot, between the action of downtown Charleston and the cool black-box space of the theatre and I stay with the car while she goes off.

The whole world is a show – the tourists, college students, downtowners getting about – fun to watch through the side mirror of my car – putting a fun twisty angle on the action.

Walking toward my car in front of me,  4 young, fit and calendar-worthy firemen make their way from the corner station together in dark uniforms toward the restaurants – wide smiles of camaraderie.  Within a few minutes, the loud radio one of them carries goes off about a fire, and all 4 men go sprinting back toward the station with their to-go boxes of food.

Down the main drag no less than 4 full firetrucks and 2 ambulances speed in my side mirror view.  The city is roaring with sirens from every direction.

A happening.

From Eden’s perspective:  she enters the audition to a room full of 10 or so guys.  They begin discussing whether or not there are any hot police or firemen in all of Charleston.  She is annoyed as she is trying to prepare for the cold reading, but says it is pretty funny to listen to them too.

When the sirens start going off, one of the men steps outside in time to see the firemen running down the street.  9 of the men at the audition run out to watch the firemen, squealing with delight as they now have proof of hot firemen in Charleston, sprinting down the street before them.  Eden is left inside with the one straight guy who looks at her drolly and says, “Well, if that is what you prefer.”

She acts out the whole scene when she enters the car, playing all the roles with hilarity.

Life is a show in the moment.  Clearing more and more of a role, an agenda, or a point of view, even,  I’m a pair of eyes and ears – and I am thoroughly entertained.

You can climb a mountain

You can swim the sea

You can jump into the fire

But you’ll never be free

You can shake me up

Or I can break you down

Whoa-o-o-o-, whoa-o-o-o-

We can make each other happy…

I would change the line from But you’ll never be free to You will always be free 🙂
I hope all is well from the fire!

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rise and shine

10 May

night to morning

My daughters still do not wake themselves for school.  I go in, as they sleep through their alarms, and gently, or sometimes not so gently, prod them back into consciousness.  It won’t be long, probably, until they are off, and my flow will not include this morning ritual.  This is one area I allow their self-sufficency to lag, and I just realized why I continue this childhood ritual when one might suggest they learn how to wake to an alarm.  There is a moment – a pause between sleeping and waking – that I get to see.  From the dreaming state to the identity of the burdened teenage student, there is a gap.  The essence of their being seeps through before the suit of the ME is put on entirely.  We meet eyes, but those eyes that see me in that state are different.  There is a sweetness of confusion, of contentment, of dismantling and reassembling that I get to peek into.

Rising and Shining into this new day – I see I can hold on to the one who observes all the dreaming and waking, the one before I put mySELF back together.  Thank you for the glimpses here, teenage girl pointers 🙂

 

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passion play

9 May

haunted house, woman in red

Have you gotten a glimpse of the dark lord?

He swept me away.

I fell down a hole of his deception.

The body shook,

The body drained of its vital refreshment,

the body hung in a meat locker.

WWW:

Wide World of Weird.

What do I desire?

My desire,

my longing –

a house.

Strange words and inconsistencies,

from the soft lipped sorcerer,

were overlooked in the rush to secure.

I went there; I peeked in the windows.

I saw myself under the tree out back having tea.

Whose property upon was I trespassing?

I allowed.

I watched the show, and I allowed.

Body shook and

shivered to the bone fear;

vulturous thoughts tore out my tendons in the hot sun.

I baked to

an ashy pile, then I was

blown away.

These death spices overpower the soup of our dark times –

out there – some of us eat  each other, raw and bloody,

Bill hicks, yes, it is just a ride and

just a breeze away – the mist from the salty marshes

can caress you with the non duality of the earth without man.

I can even giggle at the scary parts of this silly passion play.

Nothing lost ultimately;

no thing can touch nothing.

The underworld master is in a silly suit – acting his part.

At intermission, he visits the men’s room, and

at the end of the show, he takes his bow,

and pokes you in the ribs –

I scared you, didn’t I?  

Dancing with the Devil in the Pale Moon Light –

batman – the burn, an accelerant if you dare.

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who is the teacher and who is the student?

2 May

Poetry Anthologies at the end of my Writing About Literature class blow me away every semester.

This is not a post about me as a teacher.  I am humbled by a job that feels like it never reaches my ideals, but  I am learning most moments by showing up.  I do do that.  I show up.  And many show up with me.  And then we see what happens.

When we get to the last unit of the class –  I get to share the stuff I love.   The assignment (borrowed from my colleague who is so generous as to share his good ideas) to create their own poetry anthologies  allows the students to embrace what speaks to them – and express sides of themselves often tucked away.  Not a one disappoints!  No project has ever come in that did not tickle my soul  in some way.  I’ll shut up and just post an assortment from this semester.

poetry1

My photography does not do them justice.  From hand-sewn, to hand -painted, to painstakingly handwritten in fountain pen – even the most asleep students seem to come to life when asked to express themselves.

poetry2

dreams out of the paper bag

silence anthology

The Silence anthology was printed on to cloth; the poems were arranged from the most words to the least – so that the pages made no sound when being turned and the words tapered off into… silence.

Sometimes the students are apologetic when they present their works in front of the class for they cannot see their own unique beauty. They do not know how wonderful their creations are.

If you find yourself stuck in a rut without any creative juices – I’ve found a source for you – don’t know their prices, though… 🙂

 

 

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mind habits

30 Apr

Mind won a round last night.  Instead of going and doing something, I chose the easy path of staying home in my comfort zone.

Breaking the long time, heavily-grooved patterns can SEEM really, bloody hard.

I think this is my task right now.  I can focus on the instances where I am successful, but in reality, I recognize some patterns that seem so close to the core as to actually BE me.  These patterns are not the definition of a person, they are just familiar.  They are habits of how one tends to inhabit the world.  In-HABIT – what an encoded word!

Actually many of my habits give me such nice interactions:  the cloak of accommodation, the hat of approachability, the gloves of kindness, the air of acquiescence – these patterns have gotten me far in the face to face dance with others.  But now the ground is shaky – All is in flux when you start messing with the early programming.   I don’t know how to be anymore.  This  is good.

Besides the habit of nice, open, accommodation, I also retreat.  I love to be alone.  I love the familiar.  When trying to socialize, I feel such strong resistance.  I am lifting a 10 ton car out of the road, I am bending solid steel spoons, I am groaning with the strain.  In one mind state such EFFORT, then all of this can fall away and the 10 ton car becomes an imaginary feather.

I can psychoanalyze why but that doesn’t stop the fact that in times of mind stress, habits return; they drop down like a trap door around the spaciousness, as quickly as a rigged mouse trap pops over the head of the rodent – POW,  my pattern and  I’m back to my shoe box house.

Writing this down makes my habits here seem so SILLY.

Social-Butterfly-small

Social gatherings, oye,  my Achilles heel.   I will get out of socializing faster than you can say boo.  But here is an interesting thing – when I go out of my comfort zone, I am richly rewarded.  Every path walking friend has come about because I stepped outside of the marga identity and did something different.  Living this life for me, is recognizing the paradox in learning when to go with the flow and when to step out of the stream and do something that feels uncomfortable.  Taoism is not describing a passive  practice.  The Vedas are not describing a way to walk from birth to death as a ghost.  Meditation and walking with awareness are not about staying the same.

So last night there was an improv gathering at the Riverdogs baseball game.  The mind won.

I had arranged a ride for Eden to get to her play rehearsal.  I had finished my work.  I made the night clear and knew the value of getting to know everyone better so I could be more comfortable on stage and open to the moment with people who were not “strangers!”  Granted it was pouring rain…

These improvisors who were gathering are the nicest and most open people I can imagine, which makes it all the more SILLY!  My mind habit of social anxiety kept seeing images of myself having to walk in alone, sitting by the most standoffish person, playing a scenario where i actually make things worse by showing up. Instead of seeing myself making friends, I see myself alienating others.  This is the power of the mind.

I had the most magnificent walk in the rain around my neighborhood alone,  I  got some extra work done ,  I got a good night’s sleep, and I am in good shape to face this new day.  I had a good night alone, but that is not the point here.  The quiet voice of awareness feels like a gentle prodding for me to be new and fresh, without the burden of habits and patterns.

Every moment always gives me the opportunity to make a new choice.  Here’s to new choices for me and for you with whatever your mind habits happen to be!

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an improvised life

30 Apr

one of my improv classmates, Michael Lacey, won a speech contest at the Citadel here in Charleston.  This is his winning speech – An Improvised Life…

http://mediasite.nation.citadel.edu/Mediasite/Play/642fcf27e8664ee9870849323bae9eb01d

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I don’t mind

26 Apr

Dream_Chaser_by_cypherx

It might seem like maybe if you lose some weight, maybe if you get more money, maybe if you find a person who really understands you, maybe if you finally figure out how to have lots of friends, maybe if you get recognized for being famous, maybe if your face were a bit prettier, maybe if you could be a great athlete, maybe you could finally find yourself at the cool table in the middle school lunchroom, maybe if you were taller, maybe when the kids leave home, maybe when you can see things in the world, maybe if you could learn enough, maybe if you were a bit smarter, maybe if you weren’t so tongue tied, maybe if your family cared about you more, maybe if you could look perfect to others, maybe if you got promoted, maybe if your job involved cool travel, maybe if you could do what you thought was helping others as your job, maybe if you could support yourself as an artist, maybe if your house didn’t have clutter, maybe if a good day never ended, maybe if your kids were better behaved, maybe if you didn’t have to worry, maybe if you were important, maybe if you could be alone, maybe if you finally found yourself, maybe if your mind got quiet and you were enlightened, maybe if other people listened to your words, maybe if you didn’t feel invisible, maybe if you finally felt good enough, maybe if you figured it all out…

When one accepts what comes with equanimity, one is more open and present to deal with the moment with whatever is needed because the mind is not clouded by trying to cling to the good or run from the bad of what is occurring.  What happens, I don’t mind.    There is nothing wrong with me or you or this moment.

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