Poetry/Prose

Social Studies

photo credit: mine, Koh Samui

photo credit: mine, Koh Samui

The feeling

When it’s right

It’s like being weightless

Energized

Free

When it’s wrong

It’s like a million memos

To the mind

Deciphering

Decoding

Exhausting

When you don’t have to think

You know

When you don’t know

You think

The gut doesn’t think

It knows

And from the moment

I first saw you

Years ago

In dark discos

Darting around

Shiny, yet

Somehow insecure

Worried, frantic

Sorting through crowds

Searching for something

Hiding from something else

I always paused to think

About you

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Poetry/Prose

You Would Have Been Lions

photo credit: mine

photo credit: mine


Cubs

What can I say?

When I can’t lick you

I know

You would have been lions

My mind is part of nature herself

All twisted and dressed

In cement

And male ambition

My mind is part of that nature too

And it got made up

Still, I want to lick you

Cubs

Both of you

You are still here

You would have been here

You will be here

And yet

You would have been lions

Cubs

Everywhere

Every moment

Every chance

I think of you

You are still here

You would have been here

You will be here

And when you are

I will never let you out of my life

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Poetry/Prose

Just Be Fame

fame1And I think you know it’s rare.

For someone to see.

You.

Facing insecurities.

Out of control.

In control.

In between.

Waiting in lines.

Wondering.

Crying in secret.

Chewing cheap gum.

Fumbling with your iPad.

Like everyone else.

How could you not?

When I saw you, I saw a person.

Not a picture.

Not a title.

Not a name.

I looked at you.

Heard your voice.

Answered your questions.

Wondered what you were hiding.

Because you had to.

Heard what you were hiding.

Despite you.

What you assumed about me.

It wasn’t.

Projected–it could only be you.

And I loved it.

The mysterious gap.

That revealed everything.

You thought you hid.

I spoke with you.

Measured.

Sincere.

As if you were a merchant.

And I tended to you.

As if you were my fleeting customer.

And I think you know it’s rare.

For someone not to care too much.

But just enough for you to know.

I do.

For someone to trust nature.

More than temptation.

To put you higher.

Than human.

There is no fame in a moment.

Unless I am famous too.

And when I turn around.

I see all the layers.

That separate you.

From everyone else.

And I wonder why.

Anyone would want this.

Fame.

And I sense.

You’re the kind who never wanted it.

As much as it wanted you.

Like a mother wants her child.

To come in and wash his hands.

And sit at his place at the table.

As much as it challenges you still.

To believe something it tempts you not to.

That you have nothing to prove.

Don’t worry; I see, and your secret is safe with me.

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Poetry/Prose

elf-600-still

Talk to the person who seems the most opposite to you

Maybe they turn you off, annoy you a bit, even scare you

Talk to them, and love that part of you that you hide from yourself

That part they were lingering around to help you find

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Poetry/Prose

Never Hide, Except

Pasha

Pasha

This morning, in my quite-minimal apartment, Pasha found a new hiding place. I looked everywhere, walked around calmly, calling his name.

Have grown too old to panic when I lose connections, or beings in my life, or things anymore, but a numbness takes over as I search and search in vain. Indeed, I looked (seemingly) EVERYWHERE for him.

I knelt on the carpet, thinking of him, all he means to me. Wondering if somehow he had flown away–or if this was when aliens would finally be discovered!

Knowing he was somewhere but where? Left there alone only to be quiet and think.

Space and time have a reason: I thought of his essence, the highlight/lowlight times we had shared in silence, completely merged in the moment, resting in satisfaction. His playfulness. All his good qualities. A person and a cat–boiling life down to what matters.

Then I walked past the bathroom and remembered one, last possible (and of course weird) place. And he was there. It wasn’t like in the movies–no music to herald our reunion or sappy “Oh my God I thought I lost you!”s

Nah. I just looked at him, touched his offered, and slightly portly belly and my whole body relaxed. It doesn’t have to be dramatic to be real.

And there were a couple insights I thought worth sharing: Cats (to those who love them) are master teachers.

I.e., Everyone needs to hide away at times, to go where nobody could possibly find them, at least for a little bit of time, to go inside themselves to a treasure chest of pure energy, life force (prana/breath) that is theirs alone, so they can slo-mo set foot on their birthright trampoline bounce … and this helps those around them, too, to recognize them, make sense of them, because the fastest way I have experienced to be deeply recognized (if there was anything for someone to recognize at all) is to vanish.

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Poetry/Prose

The Holy Cow

Screen Shot 2015-03-24 at 3.18.40 PMOh holy cow

No more questions

Am old enough

To turn around

To see

The sacred pattern

Sure of itself

So much more

And nothing more

Than me and you

All that you have lived

Through all I have been

My existence

In every tense

Is what you longed to see

What would happen?

You never asked

If I became

So now I can only open

Every morning of my life

As you flood my eyes

Punctuate my dreams

With the actions

That I am

Forging

For what you aim to know

What you aim to see

What you wish to be

Oh holy cow

So many reasons

So many seasons

So many toys

My mind plays

Tiny games

It is true

And meaningless

In the moments

I have never arranged

The cells of my body

The truth

The causes

The effects

This beautiful work

In my soul’s wake

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Poetry/Prose

Now I Finally Remembered–I Am Free

get-out-of-jail-free-card

Today I see

I risked my life

To save it

A lifelong quest

For what’s been

Between my lips

Candy for obsession

The last bar on the cell

Gleaming

Pole dancing spectacle

The past few years

People found it wild

The way my life slid

Round and round and round

Gain and loss

Trial and failure

They looked on

From the outside

(However!)

Inside’s different

Seeded garden

Watered with a love

Of daring fears

And I slowly grew

As anyone would

Who dares their devils

Cleans their attic

Stands in the dark

Of their silent basement

As fear’s wave wained

To acceptance’s light

Shining

The last bar in the cell

Holding to it

Slipping around and around

For the love of life

I began to look closer

At a reflection

Shining back

That light on metal

Movements

Automatic volition

And today

When I awoke

To meet my metal master

I would only hear

A hollow echo

As that last bar

Toppled to the floor

I stepped right out

Stretched my arms

Yawned

As if never trapped

By all the bars

Once held me back

All the figments

Divinely constructed

To demonstrate

Freedom’s means

Oh thank you

My willingness

To be a bad example

And a good person

To myself

To teach myself

With every willing desire

Every inevitable loss

All comes and goes

Except what remains

I only see that now

In everything

I am free

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Poetry/Prose

Shakti

Rhett Baker: Goddess Durga, also known as Parvati is the consort of Lord Shiva. It is said that the Goddess Shakti takes on different forms such as Kali, Chandi or Durga to fight the demons. She is the power behind all creation, preservation and destruction in the Universe Image credit: found on wildroseyoga.com/pinterest

Rhett Baker: Goddess Durga, also known as Parvati is the consort of Lord Shiva. It is said that the Goddess Shakti takes on different forms such as Kali, Chandi or Durga to fight the demons. She is the power behind all creation, preservation and destruction in the Universe
Image credit: found on wildroseyoga.com/pinterest

Your promises–beckoned me to a place you knew I was reluctant to go

A place I explained to you was so raw

Did you want to be a hero, for the wounded?

That doesn’t matter now

Because I always then ask: Do I want to be saved?

And then I turn to you–hey!

Did you want to save me … and always save me?

Because that’s impossible

Hasn’t anyone ever told you?

Superman has a mother–just like anyone

She fell when they grabbed her by the womb

And rose to power through her creation

Superheroes know their source

Lest they dither, mortal, in the ashes, looking up, wondering “what am I supposed to do?”

YOUNG MAN! WAKE UP! SHE WHISPERS, THEN CRIES, THEN SHOUTS:

If you are not part of my rise, you are part of my downfall

And I tell you–I thrive on both

Falling is the only way to rise

Fizzy, electric sparks of reflection grow and dance along resolution’s wick

When the fireworks of my life are again launched from a cannon of decision

Exotic rays of daylight’s fantasy explode in relieved expression across the night sky

The silent expansion in all directions, all perceptible colors

Nearby chests rattle at the delayed boom

Babies laugh and reach up

Couples hug a little closer, feeling so small, together

Elders look up, smile slowly at the sight of forever

This isn’t a holiday

This is a signature

This is continuous

If you are not launching me, you are only delaying the inevitable

Either way you choose, you are critical and I love you

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Poetry/Prose, Yoga & Spiritual

Sit Down, Close Your Eyes, Watch the Movie

"A Time of Reflection--Crow"--credit: James Ayers Studios: http://jamesayers.com/original-artwork/sold-work/a-time-of-reflection-gallery/

“A Time of Reflection–Crow”–credit: James Ayers Studios: http://jamesayers.com/original-artwork/sold-work/a-time-of-reflection-gallery/

It’s a matter of time–your life.

Humans make the most of it through reflection.

That is the one power that differentiates us.

 

Was the movie good?

I’ll tell you in four days, when the scenes still play in my mind, or don’t.

Is that person important in my life?

I need time–to miss them, time to notice that so many of the things that they did and said still come to my mind, as if they speak them in the moments, when I remember … days, months, years later.

If we are smarter than the little part of ourselves–the part that wants to be king, that runs like a rat on crack–we catch a pattern.

We start seeing people in the moments: for what we predict we will feel and know, days, weeks, months later.

If we’re lucky, if we reflect, enough, we develop this capacity and we use it automatically.

It becomes a deeper drive, righting our interactions with others.

If we sit still. If we pause, again and again, we see these things.

We become human, and we split off enough from our animal, come to know, our godselves.

We develop the film of our life so that the picture gets clearer and clearer. In the darkroom.

In the quiet, dark, still space–behind our closed eyelids and between our palms, spread apart, setting aside, our time.

We gain the power, to start seeing, through time.

Some of us do this. I do this. It doesn’t make me special, it’s just what I have chosen to do. And so can you … for now …

It’s so funny to me … and sad to see … how it’s always been and will always be a matter of time.

 

 

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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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