Poetry/Prose

Lucid Dreams of Liberty

Tycho Dive Album Art

Tycho Dive Album Art

This might sound weird to some people, but I like going through things–all kinds of things.

Every day I say thank you for this life and EVERYTHING; every, little, thing, feeling, neurosis, worry, joy, happy memory, exciting upcoming event, strand of love extending over oceans, unresolved regret, etc., etc., infinity.

It’s all invited, it’s all at the table.

And I cherish all of it for a few minutes a day, because it’s my process, all of it.

Yes, I like going through things–not around them, not avoiding them, not locking them away.

And I like when my friends, life coach, healers and family call me out to help me do this … to help me see what’s what, what is a load of crap worth no attention whatsoever and what is worth concentrating on.

This process is like turning the light on in the attic of life.

Taking time; sifting, sifting, really looking at stuff.

Deciding what is useless and throwing it away.

Keeping what is useful and integrating it into my person.

Otherwise, all that crap we don’t look at, sort through, really attend to, sits in unlabelled boxes, lives up there, mixed, acting out, through us, unconsciously.

I want to know all the things in all the boxes, where they are.

I want to clean them.

Sort them.

Find the gold that the experiences left me, throw away the load of crap ego-bate it was buried in.

If I really want to help others in the future, I have to look through this stuff closely, consciously decide I don’t need the ego-drama ride, consciously throw it away.

With every box unpacked, I come out in a more meaningful place, with more people to relate to, more deeply.

People I can look at and say “hey, I see you there, I know where you are.”

This way, I can meet more people, feel more life, experience more connection, less judgement, more clean, motive-free Love, less fear, anywhere, anytime, with anyone.

This way, I am truly free.

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Poetry/Prose, Sugar Free

Sometimes (The Spiral Stairwell)

What I have come to know about life is that it’s like a stairwell

You grow to understand, you climb it alone

Sometimes it smells like roses, is lined with velvet

Sometimes memories hang on its walls

Haunting you

Delighting you

Teasing your obsession

Sometimes all you want

Is to keep looking up

At that point

Where it turns

The invisible beyond

You see out the windows

Shout to the psychics

Tarot cards flutter in the air

Their colorful, suggestive pictures

Whisper and hint

You will never be sure

Sometimes it’s musty

Or so sophisticated

Clean

Like Handel

And a book

And some tea

At times it’s alienating

Like the private schoolyard

And your poverty

When it’s warm

For a moment

You can’t remember

Difficulty

Before again

It’s raining

It’s a rainbow

It’s freezing

And all you can do

Is smell the cold

Feel the Jack Frost mirage

Grab your mind

Point your eyes

To your crying toes

Sometimes it will feel

Like a warm embrace

From a long-lost friend

From many lives

The wells divide again

And it will feel

Like the indifference

Of a 1.5 year lover

Deciding on a seeming dime

He didn’t love you

And by the way

He never really did

Or, more importantly

Like a breathtaking gesture

Of a friend

Who drops thousands of dollars

And a weekend

To help you

Without your asking

This place offers you ecstasy

In its many forms

That never last

This place will feel

Like contractions

Pushing you through

Everything

You didn’t know

You could survive

And we all know it

It can be to some, sometimes

So fucking cruel

The walls

Pock marked with bullet holes

Spattered with blood

Pieces of bone

Soft, spongy white hints of brain tissue

Sometimes it’s slippery

You fall, break yourself

Are forced

To slow down

Remember your feet

Reframe your journey

Sometimes it’s on fire

You have to drop everything

Run for your life

Sometimes it feels

Like you are falling down

Moving backward

Sometimes you think

It will always be this way

But it will never be, always

It will always be sometimes

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Poetry/Prose

Secrets from the Projector Room

Image credit: the-guided-meditation-site.com

Image credit: the-guided-meditation-site.com

If you have read my previous two posts, you may know I invented two souls based on observing perfect strangers in Barcelona (as part of a creativity workshop there).

The final related assignment was to imagine what secrets they would tell each other,* as follows:

From the Tattooed “Tough Guy” to the Servant

“What you are doing is fine, so much as you are 100 percent sure that it’s your destiny. If there is any doubt inside you, listen to it.

“Respond to it, and let life into your experience. If a life this way is deeply satisfying and enough, stay in your way, in your occupation … upon that line of railroad tracks.

“Enjoy life–enjoy leading your life. Take pride in yourself, and remember you have nothing to prove.

“Finally, whoever he or she is, makes sure that they love you, I mean really love you.”

From the Servant to the Tattooed Man

“Sir, if I may suggest, find contentment inside your every action. Find reassurance in the path you are upon. Explore the possibility of life being a vast, wide, deep stream.

“Understand that whatever you do is as essential as the Sun is to the Solar System and at the same time as insignificant as the stranger I have never met.

“Embrace this paradox.”

 

*I can see through this exercise the power of projection. Not knowing these people, I have imagined their souls based on my own perspective. Therefore, I could only be projecting things inside myself onto them. All of these thoughts are therefore from my own closet–past lives, imaginations, dreams, impressions, my own unconscious attic!

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Poetry/Prose, Yoga & Spiritual

All Together Now

472424a-f1.2If there was a checkbox for me, to choose, I would tick undefined. But somehow in this world we must define ourselves. What on Earth kind of paradox is this? How do you define a human being?

Tags, IDs, social security numbers … sounds tidy, as per the usual epic fail.

How then? Writer, lawyer, teacher, occupational therapist, plastic surgeon, engineer, scientist, tour guide, relief worker, programmer, dentist, DJ, circus performer. Really? Is that really who you are? What about yogi? Honestly, it’s time we all got a life.

Yes, I spend time practicing yoga and teaching it–learning just as much each time I do.

What I’m trying to get at here actually, as I sidewind my way into the point, is that just because I do this, doesn’t mean that a lot of other things people glue to these termed-yoga activities are true. Same with any title–they’re all about as misleading and temporarily reassuring as a Klondike at 2 a.m. when you’re trying to lose a few pounds.

So many people look at me as someone who has some answers. Someone who can help them. And to a degree I can, but only to the point that guides and demonstrates how they can help themselves. Because it is through these practices that we “yogis” do just that, for ourselves.

Specifically, we bend, stretch, open and, basically, tenderize ourselves. We aim to explore ourselves and interact with the world from a more raw yet deeply faithful place. It’s like moving into high def about life, yet developing, through, shitloads of practice every day, more wherewithal and strength to detach and realize it’s just a TV and all of these melodramas are inevitable programs.

The challenge is that, with this perspective, we have to get real grounded into the role we play in whatever series we find ourselves. It’s not an escape. There is no escape from what we were born to do.

This, in a very crude nutshell, and in my humble opinion, is the pursuit of someone practicing yoga in a deeper capacity.

And yet!

Expectation hangs in the air–that I have it all together. I get it from guys I date, friends who are just getting to know me, people who just discovered my classes. I’m the lady who has it together and will teach people how to have it together. It’s really interesting. I bet a lot of people, in other healthcare professions, know exactly what I am talking about, too.

This month I hit a new personal record on things I thought I could accomplish. I will spare you. Just imagine James Bond is a woman and she’s in Doha and it was so intense that it could only be handled moment by moment, with the big picture in mind. My gears all but burned out … and my composure let in some light through a few cracks toward the end of it all.

Last night I realized–over a glass of wine at a party–that I don’t feel home anywhere and at times totally rely on the logic and reason of people I have grown, over years, to trust to tether me to the closest idea of home a person can ever truly have–human connection.

Yes, I am a practitioner of yoga. But this month really waved it in my face that this life is not at all about having it all together.

Newsflash: you only think you do–stop thinking that for just a second … before life forces you to do it … to see something important.

This gig gets really good when get a sense of when to be strong and when to be vulnerable. When to take care of ourselves and when to surrender to the love around us, the help of friends.

When to get it together. And when to get it all together.

I looked into quite a few eyes over the past week and was utterly rocked by all of the comfort, understanding, deep perception I saw. The few words spoken in passing to help me along.

The grace and elegance that people demonstrate when they reach out to help you is one of the most incredible displays of magic and beauty I know. I drove through the city–sensing the pulsing clubs and house parties at full throttle yet enjoying the quiet roads–totally baffled by hindsight reflection on the loving tentacles of spirit that reached out to grab me lately, despite my dire need to be a strong, yogi, leader type.

So many people smiled and said: relax, relax, relax … like the cheer lines along a marathon.

We are so much alike. The differences so slight, only made bigger when we think and believe we have it together and always will. Ha! Well, honey, you will see it all for what it is when you don’t. When you’re truly tied to everyone you’ve tended to loving, or the people in the institution paid to love you.

For life, it seems, is designed to teach you what it really means to have it all together.

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Poetry/Prose

Who the F*#@ Says

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•Your granted wish will instantly charm you when it comes

•A life without challenge and mystery would feel great

•People who care deeply smile the most

•The words “I love you” are objective

•People are aware of their deepest motivations

•You can’t love your parents like you wish they’d love you

•Your deepest fears are best avoided

•Humans are the most intelligent species on Earth

•You are the same person now that you will be in a year

•Love is easy

•Suffering is fairly distributed

•Life wants you to make sense of it

•What you think you want will make you happy

•Good planning trumps a gut instinct

•A PhD guarantees intelligence

•Being happy is naive, or easy, or automatic

•Kindness is weakness

•Being cold is cool

•Ants don’t feel love

•Her figure didn’t take sacrifice

•An emasculated female is a favorable result of feminism

•Our ego wants the best for us

•What is a compliment to you is not insulting someone else

•The music is good

•A smile is innocent

•Angels don’t direct the cat

•Your thoughts don’t count

 

 

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