Monday, September 19, 2011
The truth of who you are is untouched by any 'concept' of who you are, whether ignorant or enlightened, worthless or grand.
The truth of who you are is free of it all.
You are already free, and all that blocks your realization of that freedom is your attachment to some thought of who you are.
This thought doesn't keep you from being the truth of who you are. You already are that. It separates you from the 'realization' of who you are.
~ Gangaji, from: The Diamond in Your Pocket
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My friend Jaala Sheldon creates fanciful upcycled jewelry from recycled vintage jewelry and she brought her wonderful airstream caravan decked out in the gypsy regalia pictured below.
Now Cain and Abel are in separate rooms, while I contemplate hard alcohol or at the very least a mind numbing movie (no doubt PG but in my fantasy it is a Jane Austen-esque film with the addition of steamy love scenes uninterrupted by irritating minions.) A weekend well spent.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
I haven't written anything personal for some time. It is not for want of deep diving into the well of living, rather it is from a constant water-treading in emotional exhaustion. Sometimes the weight of human expectation and belief (my own at the forefront) weighs me down with lead-like determination and I find myself afraid of the next breath...the next "not knowing", afraid that tomorrow will inevitably find itself echoing the sharp notes of today. These are the dark nights. I surface for a long deep breath, drawn unhurriedly in a clear near-autumn eve, and ask, "What if we can't f*#k it up?". What if life just is and there isn't a right way or a wrong way except our thinking makes it so. What if it...all of it...isn't such a big deal. Would the stars still turn round the heavens if I tumbled ass over teakettle into my own stupidity. Would autumn still give way to winter. Of course it would. What if I stood up, tall, and stretched from my long crouching, took a deep breath and bellowed deep from the bottom of my belly. What if I roared. Would the sky shudder.