Friday, June 29, 2012
Occasionally my heart, with its multiple electrical systems, struggles with the ascents and my stalwart constitution can't push it any harder up the mountain. On those days I bring my camera and while I wait for my fluttering heart to find it's rhythm I dive into the beauty that is everywhere all the time. It gives me an opportunity to rest in the beauty that I overlook all too often. I am grateful to my heart for this and many other reasons. I used to feel that it had been broken too many times or was simply ill equipped for planet earth, but when I discovered that I simply have more electrical systems than the average heart I was transported. Of course, it is not a matter of too little heart but a bit extra and that makes all the difference. So I learn to take it slow sometimes. To stand up a little at a time. To breathe deep. To listen and to feel.
So if you find yourself awake before dawn, all is not lost, there is a whole world out there waiting to share her wonders.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Lately, I have had several people giving me advice on how not to feel sadness. What the hell is up with that. Feel! Whatever arises. Feel it. I am convinced that just beneath every feeling is the Christ, our authentic self, awakened surrender- whatever you want to call it- knocking at the door of our heart. We determine that some emotions are unacceptable and we push them into the cellar and wonder why our lives seem devoid of clarity and vitality, why so many of us are depressed and neurotic. HELLO. Feel! All of us, all of the time. Whatever is arising, just watch it arise. Whatever is receding let's watch it recede. I wonder how we became the emotional gestapo for ourselves and others. We package our repression in tidy boxes and call it positive thinking, affirmation or the like. I am not suggesting that we sit in our shit ad infinitum or toss our crap into the laps of others because we are too frightened to deal with it ourselves. I am simply suggesting that, perhaps, our feelings rise to the surface to be seen by the embracing light of our consciousness. To be held. All of this is rather simple but can be incredibly difficult to do. When I feel like I am adrift I slice open a ripe watermelon and listen for that amazing pop as the juices drip extravagantly down the knife and then I take a spoon and dive in.
Give it a try!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Begging milk from stones.
Begging bread from tight fisted paupers.
Lips cracked and bleeding,
Tongue dry and swollen,
I have turned again and again to rock,
Pressing mouth to stony nipple,
Nourishment from a stone,
Water where there is none,
Life from a rock.
Call it by a thousand names
Call it lover or mother or dad,
Call it sister or brother or man,
Call it money or security or education,
Call it by a thousand names and a thousand more.
I have explained and rephrased.
I have wailed and torn flesh.
I have sweat blood before a senseless alter.
I have cried out against the ravages of fortune.
I have been thirsty.
I have been dying of thirst.
This alter does not give in return.
I leave offerings: blood, sweat, tears,
At stony feet and expect redemption.
No more stone suckling.
No more begging bread where there is none.
I AM the bread the wine and the water.
I, in the midst of me, am Great.
Not he, or she, or we, or it.
At the center of my being.
I have been a stone suckler.
And I shall suckle at stones no more.
Monday, June 11, 2012
"What is sometimes said is that the self has to die for liberation to be seen. There is a problem with the language here because "has to" implies some imperative or task. But all this means is that this is already liberation, but it cannot be seen until the self disappears, until the self dies.
If what you want is to see liberation then I hope you die soon."
Sunday, June 10, 2012
On a hike this morning, my heart was aching, longing, crying, to experience God and I had the thought full of feeling, "I am so tired of being "me"". The ludicrousness of this statement puzzled me leading to the next question. "Who is tired of being "me"?" Awareness just opened and for a moment it was clear that angelina/me doesn't have a thing to do with it...doesn't need to get enlightened or become better, more spiritual or anything. She doesn't need to save anything or anyone. In fact it was like seeing angelina as a pin point in the expanse of what I am. It really is just a case of mistaken identity isn't it? That which I am...truth...whatever feeble word I use to describe it...doesn't need "my" help. Of course "me" wanted to hold onto the "experience" and it was gone. In its wake it was abundantly clear that "me" "angelina" isn't going to "wake up" or get enlightened. It is a waking "from" but the wakefulness/truth/consciousness is always present. Always. It doesn't matter what angelina is doing. It is here, now, even if I can't feel it.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
The first day of SUMMER has come and gone. I spent the day with arms wide in an effort to hold the rising emptiness. After a persistent and ardent river of tears, I am finally spent. My arms ache and the only word to describe this moment is exhaustion. It is difficult to switch gears from busy MOTHER-teacher to a nameless me, in vacant home, filled with silence day after day? Owen is in Illinois for the summer and, as is generally the case, I have barely heard a peep. Bodhi spends half of every week with his father. So summer stretches out across a wide horizon of time. And much of it alone. This space gives room to see and breathe and feel. I have come face to face with so many unmet emotions, asking for love. My love.
So I am learning what it means to love myself and hold "me/her" in wide arms. She has a lot stored up and she needs lots of time to let it out. I give little gifts and love notes, trying to discover the nuances to loving Angelina. I hold her in her sadness and I rejoice in her exaltations.
In short, I am falling in love with Angelina, a little at a time. I am doing what I have wanted someone else to do for me all along. It is new and slow going but I must say that I rather like her. The television is never on (I have the same two movies that arrived weeks ago from netflix sitting on my table). She is incredibly tidy and efficient. We often listen to the wind, the birds, or gentle chanting. There are usually candles flickering nearby and flowers on tables, bed stands and counters. We (angelina and I) go for long walks in the hills behind the house and marvel at the beauty. We sit together and listen, to the stillness. There are little alters everywhere. I like her. She is still a little afraid of the dark and a bit of a perfectionist. She is beginning to trust my love. It is a good union- this meeting of self and Self. And when I go to bed, she still cries for arms that never held her, but I am there and together "I" and "me" will meet the dawn.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Bodhi graduated from extended primary...the last stop before kindergarden and saying farewell to four wonderful years spent at school with me:
The kids helped to write and create a fabulous and innovative rendition of Jack and the Beanstalk. Bodhi played one of the golden statues who could wiggle, wiggle FREEZE.
While Owen had a more sedate graduation from the 6th grade at the Open School:
Ahh...rites of passage.
This universal human conviction isn't spelled out in so many words. It doesn't need to be; it's too evident, it goes without saying. And it's a lie! Actually, it's the lie!
In plain language, it's the basic assumptions that you and I make about ourselves and our status in the world -- and hence about the world itself -- that are the trouble.
Whatever I'm doing from the delusion and nonsense that there is a thing here doing it is worse done. Whatever I'm doing from my Space is better done."
~ From: Open to the Source, by Douglas Harding