Tag Archives: Love

somewhere along the way

1 Feb

instead of keeping on

with the human interaction experiment,

I started saying no

and dropping out of the game.

It was so gradual,

I didn’t notice when self-care

turned into hiding.

Separate became a theme song,

playing on repeat

on the radio in my head.

Prone felt better than upright,

cozy felt better than cold,

alone felt better than awkward,

and predictable became a slow slide.

The blood began to thicken.

I told myself that I was refusing

to be food for the energy suckers.

What’s new?

I’m ankle deep at the surf’s edge

where

the water is cold,

the air is worse,

but the alternative is only for the bears,

and only in one season.

Spring seasons return,

and probably will again,

but I won’t wait

for it to come to me.

Motion is required

for the body,

but more so, for the mysterious heart,

which can’t be met

until I show up.

 

 

 

holy

23 Jan

There is nothing but

holy.

I wore it today as a mantra

in traffic jams

and temperature swings

and in the checkout line

where I was handy

and open

next to  magazine and candy gossip.

Enough flowed through

to bless the swollen wrist

of the Target cashier

from RA she says and sighs,

so painful,

sweet one, yes.

When we are there with her,

our mind’s hand covers her pain

with tactile love

while we drop to the spot

left and right lungs

touch the fire pit of our

singular abyss.

Holy rains on

holy messes

and blesses us all,

despite.

 

 

 

– – – love and emergency vehicles – – –

25 Dec

To love, one must first forget all about love. Make it your aim and look for direction. As we are, we cannot possibly love.  Gurdjieff (commas added for clarity by me:)

The roads I tread have been tread before.  Fellow travelers leave their words for me.

 

It is nice to me to find clarity for what I meant when I talked about love a month or so ago.   I could not articulate clearly why I felt incapable of love, but life keeps unfolding, reflecting back information to me for the questions I ask.

Learning to love is a bit like unlearning, for me, right now.

When I was identified with love by my mind’s definitions, I became incapable of being the love that I am.

Can I relate here the reflections that arise?  Perhaps not, but experience feels like being explored with words this quiet morning:

I saw lights from an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police car all throbbing and reflecting on windows and water at the marina as I left yesterday.  The mind would define this light show as an EMERGENCY.  With my mellow mind in its quietude after walking the long distance on the docks in the foggy heat, my eyes see.  Red.  Blue.  White.  Flickering in a pattern.   Without definition, without association.  Something is happening; lights are pulsing,  but eyes are seeing before any idea of suffering.  These eyes see the emergency lights the same as these eyes see fog.

Of course, I know what these vehicles and lights can mean, but that idea is the same as all ideas, a rabbit hole.  That which needs my attention will be made clear without my ideas about any thing.

Seeing can be separate from ideas.

I feel Love arises naturally in such a state, beyond my associations, beyond my ideas about any thing, beyond my DOing.  In this field, love is unrestricted to bubble up without obligation or definition or shoulds.   This bubble that arrives is larger than my small being, and it travels through the vehicle of this body separate from my thoughts.  I think it bursts above my head and floods me a bit like this:  

At 5:20 minute (but all is speaking today):

 

a soft answer to the questioning of love

21 Nov

“Whatever we pay attention to, we care about.  It brings out our caring.  You discover the belonging that was there but hidden.  It is there with every living thing of this universe if we slowed down and we reached out.  Not only does it wake up our hearts, but it ripples out.”

I’m incapable of love

17 Nov

I have never loved another.  I am incapable of this task alone.

I have not even loved a cat, a dog, a tree, myself, no one.

There may be channel for love through release, but I don’t have to look around that corner.  That corner will come to me, not my business.

It is arrogant to imagine I know what love is.

The ones I am supposed to love by all earthy definition walk by me and at times I feel nothing but annoyance.  I might get a painful inner heart squeeze even at the sight of them, but is that love?  At times I only see reflection.  At times I don’t even see.  I am unable to define and perform in accordance with what I think that love is.  I love no one, no thing, nothing!

I release this idea of love.  I release the word.  I release.

And when I do, I am just here.

I can get still enough to stop doing what I think love should look like.

I’m left with only the senses, not the thought.

I am free to not love ever again as me.

Yet I am still here;

nothing has changed visibly,

though perhaps I sit up more as the weight of performance is taken off my back.

Mirrors mirrors on all sides

you magnify what is not

and let me simply be here.

the love boat exciting and new come aboard we’re expecting you

31 Aug

perhaps I will never know

what makes me swoon this way –

hear

the droning lawnmower,

while I am

braising my head

in direct sunlight,

baking and falling

so far out of my body

that if I were to open my eyes,

I wonder where I will be.

I seem to be dancing with someone unseen

but felt.

A love is here that leaves me never lonely

but refreshed in the silence of wordless agreement.

How can this be this be this be;

no one do you see?

I’ve fallen.

Without a net,

on my way down

without my checkbook,

skipping out on the rent.

I cannot shape this afternoon,

let alone next year.

Who who who is knocking

on my heart?

When I peer,

right here,

only the stray cat tigger

and the gnats,

but I feel it –

over and over –

knock knock knock,

I am

alone

unattached

on fire

without a flame.

Do not douse me now.

 

 

a rat when he’s wet

20 Apr

 

yo ese

 

I am in love with being chosen by this cat.

Perhaps it could be any cat.

His lowness in the world fills me not with disgust

but pity and  soft opening for his escape.

What makes the breath of one man reek,

and another fill your heart with care?

Come purr on my chest when I haven’t the time;

will I grow tired of thee?  Will you come to be  a stink, a chore?

Do I know how to love; are you here to show me?

The story goes a bit like this:  convulsing fear, survival strength, ache, rage, numbness,

rote doing, and then one morning we start imagining ~ maybe.

Our mind/s broadcasting into the void, virtual machines of creation.

A snake, a turtle, a rat may have answered, but here is this homeboy, ESE.

You, little man, radiate the joy of 2nd chances.

You mirror tougher days which make me the humble seer.

Basking in the soft luxury of my bed,

I worship the roof , the lights, the water,  the pantry…

There may be hope for me yet.

“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.”  ~ Jean Cocteau

All of the animals except for man know that the principle business of life is to enjoy it.”  Samuel Butler

a worm on cement in the sun

12 Aug

In november  when I started this blog experiment,  I was able to point through words to the pain that was playing out in my daughter’s heart.  I didn’t have solutions;  I didn’t know what was going to happen.  While we were trying to find experts and work with their solutions to such things, I also leaned heavily on whomever and whatever I could find that could point me to the deeper thread of this difficulty.

A word like difficulty doesn’t match what I am trying to say.   This raging time was messy, embarrassing, painful, relentless, hopeless in appearance.  Scenes of terror and rage played out in cars, parking lots, closets, mirrors, public places:  scenes of thrashing, smashing, ugly pain at top of the lung out of control hystaria.

My daughter had stepped beyond my reach.  I had never been one for Freudian theories, but truly, as the miraculous visit to a sane Psychiatrist revealed, a classic case of Transference.  Freud did know a few things.   🙂

Eden was unable to rage at her father because he could not listen nor understand her.  He also was not a safe person with whom to work things out.  He has a delusion of who he is, and in this insanity, he is unable to parent, especially in her crisis.  So she took the full weight of her rage and placed it solely on herself and me – the two  most critical  people who could help save her.  She took her rage to the brink of destruction over and over.  It felt like standing on the edge of the grand canyon, while she tied a rope around my waist and proceeded to jump and take me with her into the abyss.

We would resolve and come together but the relief would be short-lived when a word, a look, a call from her father would set it off all over again.

I  am putting words to this chapter, not to relive the past, but to recognize where we are today in contrast to the place we were  in November.  Now I can look it full in the face because we have moved into a new space.  I also visit from my now place on the path with assurance to the frightened me and to any  frightened souls of anywhere where the road gets tough.

Eden has rounded more corners than I can count without the aid of the pills they wanted to prescribe.  She has beat the diagnosis they wanted to pin on her, marched into her rage and out again.  She now relies on her own strength and the strength I am so willing to lend as needed.  This was not the only path through – it is the one that Eden chose.

I am grateful that I walk this earth to be here to see that hope can blossom out of hopelessness  in our little  story.

On our walk yesterday, she stopped to watch a worm making its way across the cement sidewalk in the noonday sun.  I asked if she was going to pick it up to help it not fry as so many worm corpses had done all around where we stooped.

She said no, i want to watch it, to see if it makes it.

And so we watched it make its way.  I was doubtful it would survive. I was wondering if we were just going to watch it die. But wiggle it did and eventually it slithered into the clean line of  grass on the other side, free from the relentless sun, free from the army of hungry ants,  finally burrowing into the cool dirt.

I expressed  dismay while she shared her knowing that it would make it all along.

Here now –  I express my dismay and knowing that exist side by side in me.  What we walk through!  How we help each other!

thank you. thank you. thank you.

Frying on the sidewalk or sinking into the earth, wiggling our worm bodies in joy – we make our way.

wooing the buffalo

26 Jul

Red_Buffalo_by_Cloverfish

Don’t surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender,

My need of God
So absolutely
Clear.

Hafiz

I do love something so about my now.  I am not alone, as I have the constant awareness of those who need me daily.  But in the deep soul way – of  loving the soul and body of another, it is not manifest in my now – and I do not long in a desperation, I do not ache or imagine.  The skin on my wounds is smooth and comfortable to the touch.  My stance is not defensive or retreating – I do not shoulder what comes with the worry of what might happen.  I stand adult and child at once, still able to sing lullabies to the black bear, pacing in his captivity.  We never found the puma cage, eden and I, in the downpour at the animal section.  We saw the Bison rocking and had a nice talk about the buffalo woman.  Do you remember how large a buffalo is?  Is it even a sacrifice to be given to the herd?  Today it doesn’t seem so.  Can you remember the feeling when you see that head so enormous and audacious, even from a distance?  Do you remember how it feels to not care how others view you, to not care what you are wearing?  Do you remember not having ears for what others may overhear in your conversation?  The sea otters have had enough of humans and they hide in the back until the people are gone.  It is better that way.  Animals are becoming self aware and so disgusted with the humans who got here just a tiny step ahead of them.  Perhaps they will call the authorities on the frat party assholes who trashed the place and made the cages.  I will loan them my cell phone.  Have a turn gorilla, elk, and cat.  Your rhythm matches the thunder, the waves, the wind.  We no longer carry the salty sea in our veins.  We are velveeta cheese on cardboard crackers.  We are a toxic cloud.  How did I end up here, Hafiz?  I was writing to let you know I embrace my aloneness.  It is delicious; I love sleeping in the middle of my bed.  I love no phone calls anticipated.  I love marching where I will.  There is no need of anything right now – I only feel the turbulence of those who have entered here through my womb – I welcome their expressions.  I watch their show daily – and little else.  Alone is a nice spell on the ride – a raft on the river alone flows on natural currents – no need to discuss the way.  my muscles relax into the stream.

Lyrics – LovesLaughter

Breathe on me my buffalo
Your eye warms to a warning of a death without words
I am here
Laughter
Swallowing
Cups of pride
Inside it paints me
With the visions I love
For the future tributes
A tome
Sunny green

Repeat

The buffalo from buffalo who are buffaloed by the buffalo from buffalo
Buffalo are the buffalo from buffalo

And all’s above lay
Pay tribute to the death of our tome
Sunny green.

goodness, gracious me

21 Jul

My small fractal self is a real thing.  I am here in the flesh, learning how to walk the path of marga.  and even if she is infinitely small in one sense, she is also infinitely large experiencing itself the only way it can through her – as she learns to say yes to her very own journey.

Alex_Grey-Ophanic_Eyelash

Ophanic Eyelash

more and more I find my choices are more in line with true self love rather than the version i had been employing for most of my life.  moving in the direction of joy or what feels good is so antithetical to the mistaken idea of goodness that many of us carry around.  corners of a square of dark chocolate with sea salt, a gentle nuzzling with the kitty who sits at our front door, grass and sand under my soft feet, watching a movie with chloe, napping when needed, tasting the irish breakfast tea in my cup, switching midstream from a plan to a more open flow.  it isn’t very complicated.

i love my daughters as naturally and openly as anything i’ve experienced thus far – my dividing cells that helped create them still ache deep inside me while inside them.  it aches in a spot I cannot touch to be a parent.  Yet i can see how their own lack of self love causes their suffering.  the tenderness i extend so naturally to them has been such a great teacher for the tenderness i so naturally can chose to extend to myself.

there are many places that i haven’t gone this summer so far that not long ago i would have made myself go.   the shoulds again, I repeat myself.  there are places we go for all sorts of reasons.  religious ceremonies that we do not wish to attend.  reunions, parties, visits to relatives.  each time these invites or offers came up, i sensed my knee-jerk impulse of should.  I should go.  I should be there.  I should allow my ex mother-in-law to stay at my house. Something made me stop and check in with myself.  do i feel like it?  i have a long history of pleasing – and finally – it is clear – i please myself.

i please myself.

this is good.

pleasing myself is good.

Slowing down to kindergarten language…why?  Because at first, stepping away from pleasing others feels wrong to some of us.  The things I have stepped away from in the past few years triggered my conditioning – my living a life in part, a big part, as an expression of the expectation of others.

I don’t mind saying this – this newbie admission – because it is so powerfully true – and can crop up over and over.

There are polar reactions to the statement I please myself.  Either, right on sister – pleasing you is what is good for you and the world.  Or a thought that I am on a path of pure selfishness.  The thought that thinks I am selfish thinks selflessness is virtuous.

What is selflessness?  Not doing what pleases me, reducing my joy.  My state of loss makes me feel small and cut off from the flow of all life.  Selflessness is me refusing to be here and live a life of my choosing where I am lost in a dream of my smallness.  The state of confusion and loss is infectious – the virus of resistance!

What is the wrongly perceived selfishness?  If I do what pleases me, I am in a state of joy.  My state of joy is larger and more open to the flow of all life.  I am here, as i chose to be, living a life of my choosing, and that is big beyond the self.  That state of joy is infectious – the virus of YES!

saying no to the long drive and awkward gathering with others with whom I am out of sync felt delicious.  Saying no to the house guest was generous.  Generous to me!   the outfall that came toward me from other people didn’t phase me a bit.  the guilt trip language of others has become so transparent.  without any guilt in me for doing my divinely given mission – pleasing myself – no guilt can stick.  hallelujah.

where does this lead?

to more good.

goodness, gracious me 🙂

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