I have gorged myself on the sweet, forbidden fruit
Of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
I have eaten sin, sucked the marrow out of its bones,
endlessly stuffed my mouth with the flesh and blood of my brothers.
Nourished by violence, my body became violent,
muscles filled with angry, red inflammation,
mind filled with dark, swirling chaos.
My body became violent and rioted against me, making plans to throw me out.
But you reached for me through a long-forgotten voice,
licking at a far corner of my mind,
slowly filling my angry body with your light and presence over many years,
shaking out all the rage,
squeezing out all the tears.
While the outside of my life raged against me and fell apart,
leaving me completely broken on the rocks,
you entered me with your gentle power,
and made me into an apricot tree,
rooted in you,
now blossoming,
now bearing fruit.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Publicly naked
I'm feeling quite overwhelmed right now...overwhelmed and scared and excited all at once. The reason being, I am finding myself called to service in four very different places at the same time. There is my "day" job in the financial industry, where I work for a company that is currently working on the largest project of its kind in history--and what I do or don't do has a definite effect on the bottom line. And then my side job as a wedding dress designer. And now, in addition, though I wanted to avoid it, I've been called to volunteer positions with two spiritually based organizations--one that calls itself Christian, one that calls itself alternative, both brought to my awareness by the Divinity Itself.
I don't know how I'm going to do this. The road ahead is fraught with a hundred million opportunities to fall, and a million million opportunities for my weaknesses to be exposed. I suppose this is where all my training of becoming completely open and vulnerable in sacred space is supposed to come in handy--but I have little desire to be so vulnerable out in the real world!
It doesn't matter, though. God wants me here, exactly where I am, as exactly who I am--and all I really have to do is listen to His voice and do what it says.
I don't know how I'm going to do this. The road ahead is fraught with a hundred million opportunities to fall, and a million million opportunities for my weaknesses to be exposed. I suppose this is where all my training of becoming completely open and vulnerable in sacred space is supposed to come in handy--but I have little desire to be so vulnerable out in the real world!
It doesn't matter, though. God wants me here, exactly where I am, as exactly who I am--and all I really have to do is listen to His voice and do what it says.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Resolute
I traveled back to that fateful night, so long ago now, where you fell away from me, fell to your death into the abyss.
An erratic dagger, recklessly flailing in every direction, tore and slashed through the delicate petals until nothing remained.
I was the dagger--now I am the rose. Pale pastel peach, overflowing with thick, honeylike nectar--locked behind an iron gate.
I am ready. I wait. I will wait, if need be, until every petal has fallen and the snow buries me underground.
Bring loving hands, or bring crushing blows. Either way, I am here.
An erratic dagger, recklessly flailing in every direction, tore and slashed through the delicate petals until nothing remained.
I was the dagger--now I am the rose. Pale pastel peach, overflowing with thick, honeylike nectar--locked behind an iron gate.
I am ready. I wait. I will wait, if need be, until every petal has fallen and the snow buries me underground.
Bring loving hands, or bring crushing blows. Either way, I am here.
Turning around
The land resonates with my vibration
the green grass welcomes me home
its energy tangible, tingling my feet.
Reverently, I get to work.
Vigorously pulling up weeds,
finding hidden treasures of delicious fruit,
sown in anticipation of my arrival.
the green grass welcomes me home
its energy tangible, tingling my feet.
Reverently, I get to work.
Vigorously pulling up weeds,
finding hidden treasures of delicious fruit,
sown in anticipation of my arrival.
fierce gaze
Withdrawn and alone in a thicket of trees, the hair hangs down in front of my face. I am like a wild creature, fierce eyes, claws unsheathed, reflexes primal.
Come near me and I'll rip you to shreds. It's the law of the jungle. No one approaches another to give, only to take.
I have a heart. It's there, beating, deep within my body. The law of the jungle makes it an irrelevant, dangerous liability.
This woman swings wildly from the vines. This woman shoots poisoned darts from a blowgun with deadly accuracy. This woman can take you down, lay you low, destroy you as easily as she can breathe.
To be human, to love and care--long forgotten ancestral memories. Just to live another day takes every ounce of strength stored in these bones and sinews.
Come near me and I'll rip you to shreds. It's the law of the jungle. No one approaches another to give, only to take.
I have a heart. It's there, beating, deep within my body. The law of the jungle makes it an irrelevant, dangerous liability.
This woman swings wildly from the vines. This woman shoots poisoned darts from a blowgun with deadly accuracy. This woman can take you down, lay you low, destroy you as easily as she can breathe.
To be human, to love and care--long forgotten ancestral memories. Just to live another day takes every ounce of strength stored in these bones and sinews.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A rare and precious opportunity
I've taken a much-needed hiatus from posting, using the time to go even deeper within than I can possibly go with an audience. Not much poetry has come up within this time, only clarity--but it's a clarity I cannot speak of, not yet. The seedling is too fragile; it will die if I allow it to be trampled underfoot.
What brought me back was the call I received to serve on the team for the next Gift Weekend in Chicago. This is an absolutely unique event, an opportunity for women to connect with the deep innate Feminine wisdom in the safety of sacred space, a chance to receive the deepest longings of our hearts--even those longings we dare not even speak aloud to others. I would not be who I am today if I hadn't been dragged to an introductory circle back in 2007.
The Gift is a three-day journey, taken by twenty-two women at a time. Each weekend is an absolutely unique event and cannot be duplicated. Participants have the opportunity to create for themselves a unique, personal rite of initiation--involving the death of something that no longer serves, and a rebirth into something new. At my initiation in 2007, I released 30 years of pent-up rage and received a completely new mind and spirit--that was where I ceased to be Sarita, with all the old labels and judgments that had been placed on her, and became Linmayu. The other women there witnessed my initiation--leaving no room for any doubt that it was real--and I witnessed theirs, and saw a world of possibilities open up. Each woman's initiation is as unique as the woman herself--and nothing is too big for the Divine Feminine to handle. I've seen women break the chains of sexual abuse, create new and more fulfilling ways of being in relationship, and find firm, unshakable connection with their own divinity. I've gone down into the deepest depths of my despair and beyond--and felt completely safe to do so. I've danced with wildness and found an ecstasy and connection better than sex.
The logistics: The weekend will take place August 28, 29, and 30, in the Chicago area--exact location to be determined. We are already in the process of weaving the sacred container for the weekend. Currently, I believe, there is space for only 7 more women to attend. If you feel called to the space, or to fulfill a deep longing in your life--if that little voice in your gut is saying "Yes!" right now--then please contact me for further details. Send me a phone number you can be reached at and the best time to call, and I or one of the other team members will follow up with you promptly.
I'm feeling ridiculously excited about this event. I can't wait to see who will be there and what the Creator has in store for all of us this time.
What brought me back was the call I received to serve on the team for the next Gift Weekend in Chicago. This is an absolutely unique event, an opportunity for women to connect with the deep innate Feminine wisdom in the safety of sacred space, a chance to receive the deepest longings of our hearts--even those longings we dare not even speak aloud to others. I would not be who I am today if I hadn't been dragged to an introductory circle back in 2007.
The Gift is a three-day journey, taken by twenty-two women at a time. Each weekend is an absolutely unique event and cannot be duplicated. Participants have the opportunity to create for themselves a unique, personal rite of initiation--involving the death of something that no longer serves, and a rebirth into something new. At my initiation in 2007, I released 30 years of pent-up rage and received a completely new mind and spirit--that was where I ceased to be Sarita, with all the old labels and judgments that had been placed on her, and became Linmayu. The other women there witnessed my initiation--leaving no room for any doubt that it was real--and I witnessed theirs, and saw a world of possibilities open up. Each woman's initiation is as unique as the woman herself--and nothing is too big for the Divine Feminine to handle. I've seen women break the chains of sexual abuse, create new and more fulfilling ways of being in relationship, and find firm, unshakable connection with their own divinity. I've gone down into the deepest depths of my despair and beyond--and felt completely safe to do so. I've danced with wildness and found an ecstasy and connection better than sex.
The logistics: The weekend will take place August 28, 29, and 30, in the Chicago area--exact location to be determined. We are already in the process of weaving the sacred container for the weekend. Currently, I believe, there is space for only 7 more women to attend. If you feel called to the space, or to fulfill a deep longing in your life--if that little voice in your gut is saying "Yes!" right now--then please contact me for further details. Send me a phone number you can be reached at and the best time to call, and I or one of the other team members will follow up with you promptly.
I'm feeling ridiculously excited about this event. I can't wait to see who will be there and what the Creator has in store for all of us this time.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
On What Is #8
I'm sick with a cold, and it feels like I'm a completely different person. Stuck, heavy, inert to the extreme. I wonder if the cold caused these feelings, or if the feelings made me susceptible to the virus.
Boogersnot Girl has a life of her own, a body of goo wiggling about inside my body. Mucking up emotions, heating the furnace, stirring the swamp-soup.
Boogersnot Girl isn't pretty and isn't polite. She sneezes and blows her nose and scratches and farts. Boogersnot Girl isn't interested in sex, doesn't take showers, and chews with her mouth open.
Boogersnot Girl doesn't want to talk to people. She just wants to be a swamp thing made of goo, permanently merged with the covers of my bed.
Is that so hard to understand?
Boogersnot Girl has a life of her own, a body of goo wiggling about inside my body. Mucking up emotions, heating the furnace, stirring the swamp-soup.
Boogersnot Girl isn't pretty and isn't polite. She sneezes and blows her nose and scratches and farts. Boogersnot Girl isn't interested in sex, doesn't take showers, and chews with her mouth open.
Boogersnot Girl doesn't want to talk to people. She just wants to be a swamp thing made of goo, permanently merged with the covers of my bed.
Is that so hard to understand?
Friday, April 3, 2009
Why do all my poems seem to be about dudes?
This poem is inspired by a vision that I had during a session with sound healer Louise Cloutier, who is also a singer and songwriter, and is awesome. She performs about once a month at Life Force Arts Center, definitely worth checking out if you're in Chicago.
Rock-solid man
I breathe and melt
feeling your presence across the desert sands as you stumble blindly,
called to me by an unknown power.
I know you won't find me, not any time soon. Yet I will not move toward you.
I am here, standing on a sand dune as the wind plays with my hair and skirt. I am here, in deep communion with my Creator.
When you find me, touch me gently. If your sight returns, I will be with you.
Rock-solid man
I breathe and melt
feeling your presence across the desert sands as you stumble blindly,
called to me by an unknown power.
I know you won't find me, not any time soon. Yet I will not move toward you.
I am here, standing on a sand dune as the wind plays with my hair and skirt. I am here, in deep communion with my Creator.
When you find me, touch me gently. If your sight returns, I will be with you.
Monday, March 23, 2009
On What Is #7
I was told by a psychic that rejection and betrayal are a part of my karma. I am apparently drawn to them like a moth to a flame. This is the first straw to break that camel's back.
I like cliches. So sue me. :D
Go ahead. Take this heart.
Stomp on it. Stomp it to death. Beat it to an unrecognizable, bloody pulp and throw it under the bus.
You will find that what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger.
And what does kill me, makes me stronger.
I will rise a thousand times from these ashes. I will dance wildly on my own grave. No one can keep me from this joyous communion, this passionate coupling for which I need no partner but my own soul.
I like cliches. So sue me. :D
Go ahead. Take this heart.
Stomp on it. Stomp it to death. Beat it to an unrecognizable, bloody pulp and throw it under the bus.
You will find that what doesn't kill me, makes me stronger.
And what does kill me, makes me stronger.
I will rise a thousand times from these ashes. I will dance wildly on my own grave. No one can keep me from this joyous communion, this passionate coupling for which I need no partner but my own soul.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Poegle: sitting depressed staring at the computer screen
I don't find poegles have the same healing power as poems that I write myself, but they can still provide insight into a situation. I should take my own advice and go for a walk...probably an astral walk as it is rather late at night...rather than continuing to sit at the computer and post here...I promise I'll do so right afterwards. :)
There was a car-sized chunk of lead sitting on my chest
I find myself staring at my computer monitor
Consumers are more depressed than they have been in a long time.
I have been staring at that the computer screen so long it beginning to morph ... The time passes and you're still sitting there staring
Depressed Sad Woman.
They come over to see you sitting all day at the same place
staring at the computer monitor for almost an hour waiting for ...
for a good conversation,
someone who will keep me away from feeling depressed
twenty kids sitting at attention in dead silence, staring at computer
No wonder they're depressed.
they are made to forage, hunt, exercise, and sleep.
the less time in front of the computer, the better.
There was a car-sized chunk of lead sitting on my chest
I find myself staring at my computer monitor
Consumers are more depressed than they have been in a long time.
I have been staring at that the computer screen so long it beginning to morph ... The time passes and you're still sitting there staring
Depressed Sad Woman.
They come over to see you sitting all day at the same place
staring at the computer monitor for almost an hour waiting for ...
for a good conversation,
someone who will keep me away from feeling depressed
twenty kids sitting at attention in dead silence, staring at computer
No wonder they're depressed.
they are made to forage, hunt, exercise, and sleep.
the less time in front of the computer, the better.
Poegle: Christian dogma creates atheist dogma
Blame Google, not me. ;)
Actually, go ahead and blame me, I can handle it.
Right now, we are talking about the fundamental dogma of atheism
They are peddling their own metaphysical dogmas in the name of science
I became an atheist as the one alternative that is FORBIDDEN
homophobe religion dogma hate bigot
I have found Christian dogma unintelligible. Early in life, I absenteed myself
if God doesn't exist, everything and anything is permissible
the atheist has no use for religion of any kind
And MAN CREATED GOD
Beware of Dogma
“scientific” Christian’s view of God looks very similar to an “atheist”
Life creates order out of chaos, sense out of non-sense and fusion out of disintegration.
This is perhaps the most honest and forthright atheist group I have ever seen.
In fact, reason is intrinsic to the Judeo-Christian tradition.
Dogma, not faith, is the barrier to scientific enquiry
The proponents of the new atheism presuppose a naïve form of theism that perceives God,
It has been launched as a backlash to the heavy handed Christian ads
The dogma's bollocks
the Creator has created the living world
appeasing religious zealots only creates a culture of entitlement
both communist and Christian dogma make the present so bland, boring and hopeless
Bury Old Dogma
Actually, go ahead and blame me, I can handle it.
Right now, we are talking about the fundamental dogma of atheism
They are peddling their own metaphysical dogmas in the name of science
I became an atheist as the one alternative that is FORBIDDEN
homophobe religion dogma hate bigot
I have found Christian dogma unintelligible. Early in life, I absenteed myself
if God doesn't exist, everything and anything is permissible
the atheist has no use for religion of any kind
And MAN CREATED GOD
Beware of Dogma
“scientific” Christian’s view of God looks very similar to an “atheist”
Life creates order out of chaos, sense out of non-sense and fusion out of disintegration.
This is perhaps the most honest and forthright atheist group I have ever seen.
In fact, reason is intrinsic to the Judeo-Christian tradition.
Dogma, not faith, is the barrier to scientific enquiry
The proponents of the new atheism presuppose a naïve form of theism that perceives God,
It has been launched as a backlash to the heavy handed Christian ads
The dogma's bollocks
the Creator has created the living world
appeasing religious zealots only creates a culture of entitlement
both communist and Christian dogma make the present so bland, boring and hopeless
Bury Old Dogma
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
On What Is #6
This poem is one I want to judge for being too melodramatic and emo, however, when I had finished writing it, I LITERALLY felt my body change. Every old wound, every screaming cell, every scar dissolved into pure heat and just ran down my spine and out through my feet into the floor.
A hundred thousand scars cover this body. A hundred thousand defeats in a world where a single defeat merits death. And I am still alive--if barely. A hundred thousand taut cords and wires bind this body to the grave.
A hundred thousand old wounds cry out to be reopened by the relentless knife of circumstance. Calling in more and more sin, more and more defeat, more and more death upon me.
The universe produces all that is requested and piles it on so high, so wide, so deep that a thousand friends could not lift the burden from me.
Yet one Friend can.
One grain of faith smaller than a mustard seed takes down every opposition, heals every wound.
A hundred thousand scars cover this body. A hundred thousand defeats in a world where a single defeat merits death. And I am still alive--if barely. A hundred thousand taut cords and wires bind this body to the grave.
A hundred thousand old wounds cry out to be reopened by the relentless knife of circumstance. Calling in more and more sin, more and more defeat, more and more death upon me.
The universe produces all that is requested and piles it on so high, so wide, so deep that a thousand friends could not lift the burden from me.
Yet one Friend can.
One grain of faith smaller than a mustard seed takes down every opposition, heals every wound.
On What Is #5
Home
Call in my home
As sunlight shines down around my prone body.
Kissing the earth,
I feel safe within here.
Safe deep within myself, from the life of the surface world, where I run, without stopping, for eternity, as though a tiger is constantly at my back.
Disconnect, and find the place of sunlight which you can never find by looking for it.
Call in my home
As sunlight shines down around my prone body.
Kissing the earth,
I feel safe within here.
Safe deep within myself, from the life of the surface world, where I run, without stopping, for eternity, as though a tiger is constantly at my back.
Disconnect, and find the place of sunlight which you can never find by looking for it.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Spontanea 3/11/09
I've just returned from performing at Spontanea, which is Joan Forest Mage's weekly performance series. It is a hard thing to explain. I could say that it is dance, or that it is energy work, or that it is both, but does that really make sense to anybody?
What seemed to be happening, from my point of view on the "stage," was that I called a certain spiritual energy into the space, and then it came in full force and took us over and carried us on an amazing journey through the spirit world. An audience member commented after the performance that she had seen the story of the creation of the universe. I had felt the same thing--there was a point at which I felt like I was floating in an endless sea, the world being made entirely of water.
I was floating, riding and channeling the energy present in the space. It almost didn't matter whether anyone was watching or not; it almost didn't matter what Joan was doing. At times her voice would rise up and send me into another world, and I let the energies of that world flow through my body into movement. There was a great moment where I felt like the sun blazing at the center of the universe, with the solar system in orbit around me...and then the energy wound down, I stood facing Joan in a prayer pose and watched as the energy seemed to open her up from within. In spirit I was at the top of a cliff, overlooking the ocean, and I asked my spirit guides what I needed to do next. There was no answer but silence, and we allowed the ritual to complete.
Driving home, I noticed the full moon in the sky, as big as a silver dollar. Of course. Of course it would be a full moon tonight. It felt like the perfect answer to all the questions I had asked in silence earlier in the evening.
What seemed to be happening, from my point of view on the "stage," was that I called a certain spiritual energy into the space, and then it came in full force and took us over and carried us on an amazing journey through the spirit world. An audience member commented after the performance that she had seen the story of the creation of the universe. I had felt the same thing--there was a point at which I felt like I was floating in an endless sea, the world being made entirely of water.
I was floating, riding and channeling the energy present in the space. It almost didn't matter whether anyone was watching or not; it almost didn't matter what Joan was doing. At times her voice would rise up and send me into another world, and I let the energies of that world flow through my body into movement. There was a great moment where I felt like the sun blazing at the center of the universe, with the solar system in orbit around me...and then the energy wound down, I stood facing Joan in a prayer pose and watched as the energy seemed to open her up from within. In spirit I was at the top of a cliff, overlooking the ocean, and I asked my spirit guides what I needed to do next. There was no answer but silence, and we allowed the ritual to complete.
Driving home, I noticed the full moon in the sky, as big as a silver dollar. Of course. Of course it would be a full moon tonight. It felt like the perfect answer to all the questions I had asked in silence earlier in the evening.
Friday, March 6, 2009
On What Is #3
Embracing the raw, yucky truth
He is gone
and there may never
be another
in this lifetime.
The heart weeps--as much as a stone can weep.
Which is to say, the heart does not weep.
Only the useless flailings of regret, well-worn tracks. One beats one's head continually against a stone.
In this seasonless world one simply climbs the gray stone wall, blindly. One never knows if the climb will lead outside, to deliverance, or into the abyss of inevitable decay and death.
One climbs without asking these questions. It is not efficient to ask these questions.
And yet, were I to ask them...there is one who would answer.
He is gone
and there may never
be another
in this lifetime.
The heart weeps--as much as a stone can weep.
Which is to say, the heart does not weep.
Only the useless flailings of regret, well-worn tracks. One beats one's head continually against a stone.
In this seasonless world one simply climbs the gray stone wall, blindly. One never knows if the climb will lead outside, to deliverance, or into the abyss of inevitable decay and death.
One climbs without asking these questions. It is not efficient to ask these questions.
And yet, were I to ask them...there is one who would answer.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
I could waste a year or more just writing poegles.
Basically you google a word or phrase, and then take interesting phrases from the search results to make a poem.
Here is one about me:
Enter Paradise.
to break the cycle of my karma, from this day forward, Curse the Yagudo.
Everything you ever wanted to know (and some things you didn't)
Cats, especially gray ones. Dancing. Beautiful music. Dreams in Vana'diel, leave the body and walk the astral plane. Songs of the Inner World. An artist of life. touch the sphere.
a lovely, perpetually pantsless woman
FABULOUS naked pictures of myself
OMG! Thistle, stop molesting Curilla!
I hate it when my bait gets eaten by a rusty subligar.
Linmayu is wearing the tail that was made for her!
and one about Makani:
Get off your booty and vote! Sail Makani
what is the company's product? Stealth startup
Deranged insect noise art handcrafted from quality hard-shell gourds.
makes landfall on Oahu
remains true to the oldest form
We had been walking for hours and somehow
Coiled to face the gusting wind, power and grace in motion.
I could go on all night, but I will leave it at this. Feel free to post your own poegles in the comments!
Basically you google a word or phrase, and then take interesting phrases from the search results to make a poem.
Here is one about me:
Enter Paradise.
to break the cycle of my karma, from this day forward, Curse the Yagudo.
Everything you ever wanted to know (and some things you didn't)
Cats, especially gray ones. Dancing. Beautiful music. Dreams in Vana'diel, leave the body and walk the astral plane. Songs of the Inner World. An artist of life. touch the sphere.
a lovely, perpetually pantsless woman
FABULOUS naked pictures of myself
OMG! Thistle, stop molesting Curilla!
I hate it when my bait gets eaten by a rusty subligar.
Linmayu is wearing the tail that was made for her!
and one about Makani:
Get off your booty and vote! Sail Makani
what is the company's product? Stealth startup
Deranged insect noise art handcrafted from quality hard-shell gourds.
makes landfall on Oahu
remains true to the oldest form
We had been walking for hours and somehow
Coiled to face the gusting wind, power and grace in motion.
I could go on all night, but I will leave it at this. Feel free to post your own poegles in the comments!
Monday, March 2, 2009
On What Is #2
I realized that the imaginary man I have been calling Makani is in fact something else entirely. I am just now getting to know who he really is, just scratching the surface. Is he an aspect of me, an aspect of the Divine, or both? Is there a difference?
Makani is two men.
He rides the wind through my heart and body, he touches the deep, dark, hurt places and sets the waterfalls flowing.
And yet he is a distant man with a harsh lesson, a man who kicked me off the pier into the ocean, a man who stays out of sight and out of reach while I wander in the wilderness alone to do the work I must do, to find the answers I must find.
The promise of his love is like an endless smile from heaven. He carries me to faith.
And he leaves me alone in the water to sink or swim.
He is the Beloved and he is my teacher. I know him intimately and I have just now met him.
Something is beginning.
Makani is two men.
He rides the wind through my heart and body, he touches the deep, dark, hurt places and sets the waterfalls flowing.
And yet he is a distant man with a harsh lesson, a man who kicked me off the pier into the ocean, a man who stays out of sight and out of reach while I wander in the wilderness alone to do the work I must do, to find the answers I must find.
The promise of his love is like an endless smile from heaven. He carries me to faith.
And he leaves me alone in the water to sink or swim.
He is the Beloved and he is my teacher. I know him intimately and I have just now met him.
Something is beginning.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
On What Is #1
I've been inspired to write a series of poems on the current state of things--on loving and accepting exactly what is existing in the moment. Here goes~
The bottom has fallen out of me. I am a cup overturned, a gaping abyss. All falls through.
Can't hold on to a thing.
The walls clutch tight, uselessly.
Lava under pressure rises up my spine.
All is in motion.
Nothing is certain.
I dance in the void with my Divine Mother.
The bottom has fallen out of me. I am a cup overturned, a gaping abyss. All falls through.
Can't hold on to a thing.
The walls clutch tight, uselessly.
Lava under pressure rises up my spine.
All is in motion.
Nothing is certain.
I dance in the void with my Divine Mother.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Filling the space
Well, come hell or high water, I'm posting something on here today...whether or not it's any good.
I spent this weekend attending Joan Forest Mage's shamanic training program, which continues to blow my mind wide open and confirm many of the things I'd always been thinking and feeling about the world. We did a lot of work with shamanic journeying and creating healing ritual, and gave birth to some amazing, spontaneous performance art in the process.
I finally feel fully, strongly connected to all of my nature--the intellectual side as well as the artistic side, the traditional side as well as the freedom-loving side. I spent many, many years denying my desire for intellectual stimulation, for the exploration of science and math, and for the sense of feeling truly connected with my family and ancestors. I did this because I felt that they would never let me be free, and that they would force me to give up the artistic pursuits that I love more than life itself. But trying to live such a selfish, narrowly focused life ultimately proved empty and unfulfilling, and a vague sense of guilt insidioiusly ate away at my ability to do anything creative at all.
A space has opened up in the universe for me to share the unique dancing gifts that I possess. I don't dance just to make a pretty picture for people to look at; I have come to realize that my dancing is energy work, with healing power, and that it is something I am Divinely called to. I can no longer run away from the fact that I have this gift and it needs to be developed to its fullest and shared with the world. Another space has opened up in the universe for me to develop my scientific mind to its fullest; with that, too, I can heal others. And I've realized that if I only step into one of those two spaces, I will be incomplete. I have to step into both; I am Divinely called to both.
I look forward to the challenges and opportunities that such a life will bring.
I spent this weekend attending Joan Forest Mage's shamanic training program, which continues to blow my mind wide open and confirm many of the things I'd always been thinking and feeling about the world. We did a lot of work with shamanic journeying and creating healing ritual, and gave birth to some amazing, spontaneous performance art in the process.
I finally feel fully, strongly connected to all of my nature--the intellectual side as well as the artistic side, the traditional side as well as the freedom-loving side. I spent many, many years denying my desire for intellectual stimulation, for the exploration of science and math, and for the sense of feeling truly connected with my family and ancestors. I did this because I felt that they would never let me be free, and that they would force me to give up the artistic pursuits that I love more than life itself. But trying to live such a selfish, narrowly focused life ultimately proved empty and unfulfilling, and a vague sense of guilt insidioiusly ate away at my ability to do anything creative at all.
A space has opened up in the universe for me to share the unique dancing gifts that I possess. I don't dance just to make a pretty picture for people to look at; I have come to realize that my dancing is energy work, with healing power, and that it is something I am Divinely called to. I can no longer run away from the fact that I have this gift and it needs to be developed to its fullest and shared with the world. Another space has opened up in the universe for me to develop my scientific mind to its fullest; with that, too, I can heal others. And I've realized that if I only step into one of those two spaces, I will be incomplete. I have to step into both; I am Divinely called to both.
I look forward to the challenges and opportunities that such a life will bring.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Best damn song in the world
I've got a playlist on my iPod that makes me feel the way I would feel if I were with the man that I want to be with. (It's important to have such things when working with the law of attraction.) It is mostly Hawaiian music, with a couple of my own compositions thrown in for good measure. This song, which just made it onto the list, pretty much says it all from the guy's point of view. I love the language, and the not-subtle sexual innuendo.
So yeah, I didn't write this one. Sue me. ;P My favorite version of it is by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, and can be gotten on iTunes; go download it! (That particular version makes me giggle like a fool because he changes the lyrics a bit, it goes "Our lips have met, our eyes not yet, you make me wet :D for you and I!" If he were a woman, I'd not enjoy that verse nearly as much.
Henehene Kou 'Aka
Merry Your Laughter
(A Traditional Song)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WEXQyxQkQs
Henehene kou `aka, kou le`ale`a paha
Merry your laughter, your gaiety perhaps
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
Henehene kou `aka, kou le`ale`a paha
Merry your laughter, your gaiety perhaps
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I.
A usual thing this, for you and I.
Ka`a uila mâkâneki, `oni`oni kou kino
Car electro-magnetic (streetcar), jiggles your body
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
Ka`a uila mâkâneki, `oni`oni kou kino
Car electro-magnetic (streetcar), jiggles your body
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I.
A usual thing this, for you and I.
I Kaka`ako mâkou, `ai ana pipi stew
We were at Kaka'ako, eating beef stew
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
I Kapahulu mâkou, `ai ana lîpoa
At Kapahulu we (are), eating brown seaweed
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
I Waikîkî mâkou, `au ana i ke kai
At Waikîkî we (are), swimming in the sea
He mea ma`amau ia, we put inside.
A usual thing this, we put inside.
Our eyes have met, our lips are wet
Mâlama pono kou kino, ah, when we put inside
Take care well your body, ah, when we put inside
Ha`ina mai ka puana, kou le`ale`a paha
Tell the summary refrain, your gaiety perhaps.
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I.
A usual thing this, for you and I.
Ha`ina mai ka puana, kou le`ale`a paha
Tell the summary refrain, your gaiety perhaps.
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I,
for you and I, for you and I...
A usual thing this, for you and I, for you and I, for you and I...
So yeah, I didn't write this one. Sue me. ;P My favorite version of it is by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, and can be gotten on iTunes; go download it! (That particular version makes me giggle like a fool because he changes the lyrics a bit, it goes "Our lips have met, our eyes not yet, you make me wet :D for you and I!" If he were a woman, I'd not enjoy that verse nearly as much.
Henehene Kou 'Aka
Merry Your Laughter
(A Traditional Song)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6WEXQyxQkQs
Henehene kou `aka, kou le`ale`a paha
Merry your laughter, your gaiety perhaps
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
Henehene kou `aka, kou le`ale`a paha
Merry your laughter, your gaiety perhaps
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I.
A usual thing this, for you and I.
Ka`a uila mâkâneki, `oni`oni kou kino
Car electro-magnetic (streetcar), jiggles your body
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
Ka`a uila mâkâneki, `oni`oni kou kino
Car electro-magnetic (streetcar), jiggles your body
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I.
A usual thing this, for you and I.
I Kaka`ako mâkou, `ai ana pipi stew
We were at Kaka'ako, eating beef stew
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
I Kapahulu mâkou, `ai ana lîpoa
At Kapahulu we (are), eating brown seaweed
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I
A usual thing this, for you and I
I Waikîkî mâkou, `au ana i ke kai
At Waikîkî we (are), swimming in the sea
He mea ma`amau ia, we put inside.
A usual thing this, we put inside.
Our eyes have met, our lips are wet
Mâlama pono kou kino, ah, when we put inside
Take care well your body, ah, when we put inside
Ha`ina mai ka puana, kou le`ale`a paha
Tell the summary refrain, your gaiety perhaps.
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I.
A usual thing this, for you and I.
Ha`ina mai ka puana, kou le`ale`a paha
Tell the summary refrain, your gaiety perhaps.
He mea ma`amau ia, for you and I,
for you and I, for you and I...
A usual thing this, for you and I, for you and I, for you and I...
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Things are happening fast!
Well, now my entire family knows about my intentions of moving to Hawaii, and none of them really argued with the idea. My brother did, however, advise me that if I was interested in dating Hawaiian men, I had better gain at least 75 pounds. (I think I'll do just fine as I am.)
I think part of the reason my parents are OK with it is because I have tentatively decided that I would, finally, make them happy by working in the healthcare field. (Hawaii has a dreadful shortage of healthcare workers--just like everywhere else in the country.) I had been thinking nursing but my dad suggested pharmacy, which I quickly decided was more in line with my talents (I'm better at chemistry than I am at gentleness). He even volunteered to call in a favor to let me shadow one of his colleagues in the field for a day or a week to get an idea of whether I'd enjoy it.
My original plan had been to stay in Chicago and work until I had enough money to buy a place outright, but it may be possible for me to stay here only long enough to complete my pre-pharmacy requirements (which I am fairly certain I can do in a year), and then apply to the University of Hawaii at Hilo College of Pharmacy.
(Am I going to get in, though? Of course I'm going to get in. If there's one thing in the world I have going for me it's that I've never been rejected by any college I applied to. Cornell thought my admissions essay was too weird so they asked me to write another one, and then I got in. :D I believe this whole thing is not because I'm extraordinarily smart, but rather, because so many people have told me so many times that I'm extraordinarily smart that I can't even conceive of the possibility of a school not accepting me. Confidence is hugely important. I am working to get my brother to adopt a similar mindset, as he wants to go to the University of Illinois but thinks he won't get in because they don't take normal white people anymore.)
I NEVER in a million years would have expected that my listening deeply to my own true desires would bring about a result so in line with what my parents wanted for me in the first place. I had always considered them as adversaries, as people hellbent on preventing me from ever being able to live my life the way I wanted to. There is still a long way to go, and I am not sure how things are going to fall into place...but I know they will. Everything is coming together quickly; it feels like heaven is raining blessings down on me.
I think part of the reason my parents are OK with it is because I have tentatively decided that I would, finally, make them happy by working in the healthcare field. (Hawaii has a dreadful shortage of healthcare workers--just like everywhere else in the country.) I had been thinking nursing but my dad suggested pharmacy, which I quickly decided was more in line with my talents (I'm better at chemistry than I am at gentleness). He even volunteered to call in a favor to let me shadow one of his colleagues in the field for a day or a week to get an idea of whether I'd enjoy it.
My original plan had been to stay in Chicago and work until I had enough money to buy a place outright, but it may be possible for me to stay here only long enough to complete my pre-pharmacy requirements (which I am fairly certain I can do in a year), and then apply to the University of Hawaii at Hilo College of Pharmacy.
(Am I going to get in, though? Of course I'm going to get in. If there's one thing in the world I have going for me it's that I've never been rejected by any college I applied to. Cornell thought my admissions essay was too weird so they asked me to write another one, and then I got in. :D I believe this whole thing is not because I'm extraordinarily smart, but rather, because so many people have told me so many times that I'm extraordinarily smart that I can't even conceive of the possibility of a school not accepting me. Confidence is hugely important. I am working to get my brother to adopt a similar mindset, as he wants to go to the University of Illinois but thinks he won't get in because they don't take normal white people anymore.)
I NEVER in a million years would have expected that my listening deeply to my own true desires would bring about a result so in line with what my parents wanted for me in the first place. I had always considered them as adversaries, as people hellbent on preventing me from ever being able to live my life the way I wanted to. There is still a long way to go, and I am not sure how things are going to fall into place...but I know they will. Everything is coming together quickly; it feels like heaven is raining blessings down on me.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Process
I don't write poems.
I don't create the topics, I don't choose the words. Rather, I think about a topic on which I'd like answers, and ask the Divine for an inspiration...and then wait. Sometimes it comes in a matter of seconds and sometimes it takes several writings over a period of several months to get to a place of clarity. Really, I expect that it'll take forever, as I'll always be refining my questions, asking new ones, and getting closer to the heart of what it is that my soul really came here to accomplish.
It is very hard for my mind to accept anything I write here, by the way. My mind wants everything to fit into the neat little boxes of academic disciplines, backed up by bibliographies and hard scientific research to prove my legitimacy...and I've got nothing. Only my own experience, and my own experiments based on theories like the Law of Attraction, which gets its own share of bad press for being based on "bad science." I'm going to come right out and say I don't know good science from bad. Who makes that call? What are THEIR credentials? Who gave them their credentials and what gave them the right to do so? Ultimately, someone somewhere made it all up.
My ex-husband used to often say that anyone whose last name is Raye made it up at some point, that it isn't a real name. Well, anyone with ANY name made it up at some point. At what point does "made-up" transition into "real"? Who gets to decide that?
There is no authority over us. There are things in our lives over which we have no control--but there's no one up there deciding what we can and cannot do. The process of Life Itself gives us the consequences to our actions, gives us exactly what we have asked for with our thoughts, words, and actions.
I don't create the topics, I don't choose the words. Rather, I think about a topic on which I'd like answers, and ask the Divine for an inspiration...and then wait. Sometimes it comes in a matter of seconds and sometimes it takes several writings over a period of several months to get to a place of clarity. Really, I expect that it'll take forever, as I'll always be refining my questions, asking new ones, and getting closer to the heart of what it is that my soul really came here to accomplish.
It is very hard for my mind to accept anything I write here, by the way. My mind wants everything to fit into the neat little boxes of academic disciplines, backed up by bibliographies and hard scientific research to prove my legitimacy...and I've got nothing. Only my own experience, and my own experiments based on theories like the Law of Attraction, which gets its own share of bad press for being based on "bad science." I'm going to come right out and say I don't know good science from bad. Who makes that call? What are THEIR credentials? Who gave them their credentials and what gave them the right to do so? Ultimately, someone somewhere made it all up.
My ex-husband used to often say that anyone whose last name is Raye made it up at some point, that it isn't a real name. Well, anyone with ANY name made it up at some point. At what point does "made-up" transition into "real"? Who gets to decide that?
There is no authority over us. There are things in our lives over which we have no control--but there's no one up there deciding what we can and cannot do. The process of Life Itself gives us the consequences to our actions, gives us exactly what we have asked for with our thoughts, words, and actions.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Fuck, I'm apparently moving to Hawaii...
It appears my time here in Chicago is limited.
There is a reason that I am angry and depressed in the winter. There is a reason I don't like to wear socks or pants, and am happiest in sandals and loose flowing skirts.
There is a reason I'm inordinately excited by jasmine and hibiscus, and feel most at home among palm trees and the ocean.
And there is a reason I got so obsessed with the hula when I was taking lessons (and still want to go back more than anything).
Last May I had an extremely vivid dream in which this absolutely gorgeous Hawaiian man came out of the blue, made love to me, got me pregnant and told me to leave my husband for him. When I woke up, something told me that this dream was different from a normal dream, yet I didn't really let it go past the confines of my own mind. But today I was looking on Amazon.com for something or another, and for some reason I clicked on this book. And I clicked the "Search inside this book" link, and a few pages later I just about died because I SAW HIM. He was, in every detail, identical to the man from my dream, and the look in his eyes absolutely blew me away. (For those who are curious, it's the half-nekkid picture of Duke Kahanamoku, 6 clicks in.)
Now Mr. Kahanamoku died at a ripe old age before I was born, and thus is not really an ideal romantic partner for me, but the instant recognition when I saw him confirmed something: There is a certain energy, a certain love consciousness, that I just plain need to experience in this lifetime--and it's not to be found in this concrete jungle. I don't belong here.
Now I am not sure I belong in Hawaii either, but there is only one way to find out and that is to go live there for a while. So, my plan is to get enough money together to buy a condo on the Big Island, and then go live there and find out whether I'm right or wrong. I was just on hiloguy's blog and the gut feeling I got from reading it is that I am right. We shall see. Apparently the Big Island is seriously lacking in healthcare workers, so I could become one, and kill two birds with one stone: finding a way to make a living in Hawaii, and making my parents incredibly happy by working in their field. It's a thought. I will definitely be following up on it.
There is a reason that I am angry and depressed in the winter. There is a reason I don't like to wear socks or pants, and am happiest in sandals and loose flowing skirts.
There is a reason I'm inordinately excited by jasmine and hibiscus, and feel most at home among palm trees and the ocean.
And there is a reason I got so obsessed with the hula when I was taking lessons (and still want to go back more than anything).
Last May I had an extremely vivid dream in which this absolutely gorgeous Hawaiian man came out of the blue, made love to me, got me pregnant and told me to leave my husband for him. When I woke up, something told me that this dream was different from a normal dream, yet I didn't really let it go past the confines of my own mind. But today I was looking on Amazon.com for something or another, and for some reason I clicked on this book. And I clicked the "Search inside this book" link, and a few pages later I just about died because I SAW HIM. He was, in every detail, identical to the man from my dream, and the look in his eyes absolutely blew me away. (For those who are curious, it's the half-nekkid picture of Duke Kahanamoku, 6 clicks in.)
Now Mr. Kahanamoku died at a ripe old age before I was born, and thus is not really an ideal romantic partner for me, but the instant recognition when I saw him confirmed something: There is a certain energy, a certain love consciousness, that I just plain need to experience in this lifetime--and it's not to be found in this concrete jungle. I don't belong here.
Now I am not sure I belong in Hawaii either, but there is only one way to find out and that is to go live there for a while. So, my plan is to get enough money together to buy a condo on the Big Island, and then go live there and find out whether I'm right or wrong. I was just on hiloguy's blog and the gut feeling I got from reading it is that I am right. We shall see. Apparently the Big Island is seriously lacking in healthcare workers, so I could become one, and kill two birds with one stone: finding a way to make a living in Hawaii, and making my parents incredibly happy by working in their field. It's a thought. I will definitely be following up on it.
Concrete jungle #3
I think it's the third one, anyway.
This process is beginning to scare me. Whenever I find myself being inspired to write something about the work I want to do, it seems to always end up being about God. I do not feel ready to really step out and declare myself a spiritual person--even though I know that when I came into this world, SOMEONE decided I was going to do exactly that, as my parents gave me the middle name "Vedakumari" meaning "holy daughter." I do not consider myself holy--at least not any more than anyone else--but maybe that's the point. Maybe we are all holier than 20th century American culture would have us believe. I have a hunch that when all is said and done, the 21st century will bear this out.
This world
does not exist
to funnel us all down the same straight and narrow path.
Infinite expansion is the nature of my universe, the nature of the universe created by my God.
The fires of passion
The flow of consciousness
The growth of connection, strong connection, a web of constantly strengthening connection reaching over the entire face of the earth--this is the desire awakened in me.
Who has the guts to step out of the box, to grow up, to stake her own claim on the piece of the universe laid out for her? To take the first tentative steps on a half-defined path, coming into form in front of her as we speak?
If I say I do, who is going to come down on my head and say I can't?
I dare you.
This process is beginning to scare me. Whenever I find myself being inspired to write something about the work I want to do, it seems to always end up being about God. I do not feel ready to really step out and declare myself a spiritual person--even though I know that when I came into this world, SOMEONE decided I was going to do exactly that, as my parents gave me the middle name "Vedakumari" meaning "holy daughter." I do not consider myself holy--at least not any more than anyone else--but maybe that's the point. Maybe we are all holier than 20th century American culture would have us believe. I have a hunch that when all is said and done, the 21st century will bear this out.
This world
does not exist
to funnel us all down the same straight and narrow path.
Infinite expansion is the nature of my universe, the nature of the universe created by my God.
The fires of passion
The flow of consciousness
The growth of connection, strong connection, a web of constantly strengthening connection reaching over the entire face of the earth--this is the desire awakened in me.
Who has the guts to step out of the box, to grow up, to stake her own claim on the piece of the universe laid out for her? To take the first tentative steps on a half-defined path, coming into form in front of her as we speak?
If I say I do, who is going to come down on my head and say I can't?
I dare you.
Concrete jungle #2
Yay, found it!
I feel like anyone could have written this damn thing. I don't even like it very much because it feels so cliched. But it was important for me to come out and say it, because of all the years spent believing that NOTHING matters.
I feel like anyone could have written this damn thing. I don't even like it very much because it feels so cliched. But it was important for me to come out and say it, because of all the years spent believing that NOTHING matters.
People matter, animals matter, insects matter, plants matter.
The creatures of the sea, and the sea itself, they all matter.
The rocks and the mountains, though they seem inorganic and dead, they still matter, they still contain life and spirit.
The air matters, and the water, and the soil.
Our homes matter and our stuff matters. Our bodies matter, our minds and our feelings too.
Our money matters, and our freedom.
Our family, friends, lovers--and our enemies and strangers.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Defending the right to bad art
When I was in high school and college and took art classes, nothing terrified me more than critiques. I would rather have died than had my work put up next to that of my classmates (who, I was convinced, were innately and infinitely more talented than I was) and talked about.
Consequently, I did my best to get sick on those days, to stay up too late the night before and then fall asleep in class, or just to mentally check out and not pay attention.
When I graduated with a degree in apparel design, I never did put together a proper portfolio with which to apply for jobs, and actually never applied for any design jobs--I was THAT scared of my work being seen and found wanting. I was happier to apply for jobs involving menial, robot-like tasks, and spent years doing this--even after it began to take a toll on my body, mind, and spirit. I didn't think I had any choice. I felt I had already been somehow proven unfit for creative work, and would need to live out my life on the sidelines, forgetting the dreams I once had.
I can understand the need for harsh critiques as part of the education process. We need to develop our ability to stand up to criticism and integrate it to better ourselves and our work. We also need to be able to decide when NOT to integrate the criticism, when it would weaken our vision rather than strengthening it.
Yet I am still, firmly, an advocate of everyone's fundamental right to make as much bad art as they would like. Bad art serves two very interesting functions: as practice for the artist, and as a mode of soul healing. Most of us have seen the self-indulgent, angsty artwork of teenagers--and I'm the first to admit it, I feel I never left that stage. That work serves an important purpose for the person making it, and it is an unavoidable stage in their development, like falling down when learning to walk.
Now I don't have any readers here, but I imagine that when I do, many of them will be similarly wounded adults seeking to rediscover their own creative and artistic abilities while also having to make a living and do all those other adult things of which we are justifiably proud. It will be important for such individuals to find enough courage within themselves to break whatever patterns of social conditioning have kept them walking in circles over unfulfilling terrain, and I believe making bad art will be an integral part of many individual and collective revolutions.
Consequently, I did my best to get sick on those days, to stay up too late the night before and then fall asleep in class, or just to mentally check out and not pay attention.
When I graduated with a degree in apparel design, I never did put together a proper portfolio with which to apply for jobs, and actually never applied for any design jobs--I was THAT scared of my work being seen and found wanting. I was happier to apply for jobs involving menial, robot-like tasks, and spent years doing this--even after it began to take a toll on my body, mind, and spirit. I didn't think I had any choice. I felt I had already been somehow proven unfit for creative work, and would need to live out my life on the sidelines, forgetting the dreams I once had.
I can understand the need for harsh critiques as part of the education process. We need to develop our ability to stand up to criticism and integrate it to better ourselves and our work. We also need to be able to decide when NOT to integrate the criticism, when it would weaken our vision rather than strengthening it.
Yet I am still, firmly, an advocate of everyone's fundamental right to make as much bad art as they would like. Bad art serves two very interesting functions: as practice for the artist, and as a mode of soul healing. Most of us have seen the self-indulgent, angsty artwork of teenagers--and I'm the first to admit it, I feel I never left that stage. That work serves an important purpose for the person making it, and it is an unavoidable stage in their development, like falling down when learning to walk.
Now I don't have any readers here, but I imagine that when I do, many of them will be similarly wounded adults seeking to rediscover their own creative and artistic abilities while also having to make a living and do all those other adult things of which we are justifiably proud. It will be important for such individuals to find enough courage within themselves to break whatever patterns of social conditioning have kept them walking in circles over unfulfilling terrain, and I believe making bad art will be an integral part of many individual and collective revolutions.
Song of Linmayu in the Concrete Jungle
Here's the first poem in my series about work...it feels somewhat frustrating as there's nothing concrete in it to tell me what I should be actually DOING. (Yet.) I believe it is important to keep the faith that such revelations will come in time.
Can you feel the heartbeat of the earth
through layers of concrete and rock, glass and steel, roads and skyscrapers?
Can you hear the voice of the wind
through the endless buzzing of the radio and TV and cell phone waves?
Can you listen to the voice of your own calling
through the millions of voices around you, each telling you that they have the way, and so can you if you sign on the dotted line,
that they know what's best for you, and you need only do as they say?
I am a woman who walks in this nonliving jungle, who feels the concentration of its harsh energy beating and stabbing at her core, and also feels the lightness of the city's life and joy bubbling up from within like an unexpected, undiscovered source of spring water.
I am a woman who feels the contrast.
I ride the waves that originate from within, I do not know where they will lead me.
I am here, alive, just one tiny voice in the infinite cacophony...
yet a voice is still a voice, no matter how quiet,
and a life is still a life, no matter how small.
Can you feel the heartbeat of the earth
through layers of concrete and rock, glass and steel, roads and skyscrapers?
Can you hear the voice of the wind
through the endless buzzing of the radio and TV and cell phone waves?
Can you listen to the voice of your own calling
through the millions of voices around you, each telling you that they have the way, and so can you if you sign on the dotted line,
that they know what's best for you, and you need only do as they say?
I am a woman who walks in this nonliving jungle, who feels the concentration of its harsh energy beating and stabbing at her core, and also feels the lightness of the city's life and joy bubbling up from within like an unexpected, undiscovered source of spring water.
I am a woman who feels the contrast.
I ride the waves that originate from within, I do not know where they will lead me.
I am here, alive, just one tiny voice in the infinite cacophony...
yet a voice is still a voice, no matter how quiet,
and a life is still a life, no matter how small.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Art therapy and the Puritan work ethic
I have been reading Maps to Ecstasy by Gabrielle Roth; it was part of the required reading for the shamanic training program that I'm currently enrolled in. The first paragraph of the book jumped off the page and directly into my mind:
In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask you one of four questions: When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
For years I have lamented this fact of modern American society: We do not dance or sing; we pay other people to do it for us, deeming ourselves "not good enough," and holding them to an impossible standard. Yes, a lot of amazing, beautiful work comes out of this, and it may well be "better" than what the average person who must work for a living can produce--but I feel that this separation often sucks the soul out of the art, the artist, and the audience. When I graduated from college, I briefly contemplated a career as a professional belly dancer, and quickly realized that performing in restaurants, using only the music that the clientele wanted to hear, and letting skeevy men put dollar bills in my clothing would destroy my love for the dance itself. And countless others sit in the audience, watching the performance, wishing they could be up there but feeling like they can't because they are too young or too old or the wrong gender or don't have a model's body. It's not a winning situation for anyone.
We do not tell stories, we do not find enchantment in them. We watch Hollywood movies and TV shows, and expertly analyze and judge the plotlines. These days we don't even watch shows with a plot, preferring this strange new phenomenon called reality TV. And in the constant noise of the TV and Internet--we can be entertained 24 hours a day if we want--there is no time for silence, and we're judged as strange for even wanting to unplug for a while.
This all adds up to a loss of soul, both on an individual and a collective scale--which we call "mental illness." Once we can get a diagnosis of depression, we can then see a therapist for help (after our doctor checks us out so that it can be covered on our health insurance)--and then, they may give us happy pills, or they may have us do art therapy, music therapy, dance therapy. Just as physical illness often forces us to slow down and take a rest from our busy careers, mental illness can give us the permission to sing and dance and make art and reconnect with our creative spirits. It's only OK to be creative if some authority who knows better is MAKING us do it.
I firmly believe that if we lived in a world where we honored our souls enough to make time for creativity, we would not have such a great need for psychotherapists and pharmaceuticals. I want to live in that world and I don't think I'm the only one.
In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask you one of four questions: When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop being enchanted by stories? When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?
For years I have lamented this fact of modern American society: We do not dance or sing; we pay other people to do it for us, deeming ourselves "not good enough," and holding them to an impossible standard. Yes, a lot of amazing, beautiful work comes out of this, and it may well be "better" than what the average person who must work for a living can produce--but I feel that this separation often sucks the soul out of the art, the artist, and the audience. When I graduated from college, I briefly contemplated a career as a professional belly dancer, and quickly realized that performing in restaurants, using only the music that the clientele wanted to hear, and letting skeevy men put dollar bills in my clothing would destroy my love for the dance itself. And countless others sit in the audience, watching the performance, wishing they could be up there but feeling like they can't because they are too young or too old or the wrong gender or don't have a model's body. It's not a winning situation for anyone.
We do not tell stories, we do not find enchantment in them. We watch Hollywood movies and TV shows, and expertly analyze and judge the plotlines. These days we don't even watch shows with a plot, preferring this strange new phenomenon called reality TV. And in the constant noise of the TV and Internet--we can be entertained 24 hours a day if we want--there is no time for silence, and we're judged as strange for even wanting to unplug for a while.
This all adds up to a loss of soul, both on an individual and a collective scale--which we call "mental illness." Once we can get a diagnosis of depression, we can then see a therapist for help (after our doctor checks us out so that it can be covered on our health insurance)--and then, they may give us happy pills, or they may have us do art therapy, music therapy, dance therapy. Just as physical illness often forces us to slow down and take a rest from our busy careers, mental illness can give us the permission to sing and dance and make art and reconnect with our creative spirits. It's only OK to be creative if some authority who knows better is MAKING us do it.
I firmly believe that if we lived in a world where we honored our souls enough to make time for creativity, we would not have such a great need for psychotherapists and pharmaceuticals. I want to live in that world and I don't think I'm the only one.
Is it ever, really, about the money?
I believe the Law of Attraction works best when we first listen within us to find out what it is our soul really wants. I can't count the number of times I've tried to use it to bring in X number of dollars by Y date and my heart wasn't in it--for me it's not really about the money.
This feeling of "it's not about the money" comes to me even more strongly when I think of my work situation. I recently started working at Life Force Arts Center on a volunteer/work exchange basis, and now suddenly I'm the assistant director. (If you're in Chicago, definitely come by the center; we have a lot of really awesome things planned including a Spring Equinox ritual with a live alligator who is also a healer! I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried; it's that cool.) This move is quite possibly the greatest thing that's ever happened in my work life, and yet, I still need to keep my other job in order to eat.
I want to make my living with the same kind of passion that I have for my work at LFAC. And this means that I will, most likely, eventually have to leave the very comfortable position that I now have, with a company that just this past week decided to make an investment in training me for a more responsible position.
Things are falling out of the sky for me this year, in terms of work. I am also doing 9 dresses for a good friend's wedding next June, and will start that work this June. I feel sorry that I wasn't ever in this happy, fulfilled working situation when I was married--our problems might then have been lessened. Who knows, though? As Penny says in Dr. Horrible, "Everything happens."
So what I want to create is a fulfilling way to make my living, doing work on the artistic and spiritual side of the world ALL THE TIME. Or *almost* all the time. After all, I am beginning to have a better understanding of the financial industry, and this can' t be a bad thing. I also want to create a situation where I truly come into the full power of whatever innate and learned talents I have, so that I can use them for the betterment of my employers, clients, and humanity--whoever they end up being.
That is the intention. It's only a matter of time before the beginnings of its artistic expression drops into my head; watch this space for updates.
This feeling of "it's not about the money" comes to me even more strongly when I think of my work situation. I recently started working at Life Force Arts Center on a volunteer/work exchange basis, and now suddenly I'm the assistant director. (If you're in Chicago, definitely come by the center; we have a lot of really awesome things planned including a Spring Equinox ritual with a live alligator who is also a healer! I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried; it's that cool.) This move is quite possibly the greatest thing that's ever happened in my work life, and yet, I still need to keep my other job in order to eat.
I want to make my living with the same kind of passion that I have for my work at LFAC. And this means that I will, most likely, eventually have to leave the very comfortable position that I now have, with a company that just this past week decided to make an investment in training me for a more responsible position.
Things are falling out of the sky for me this year, in terms of work. I am also doing 9 dresses for a good friend's wedding next June, and will start that work this June. I feel sorry that I wasn't ever in this happy, fulfilled working situation when I was married--our problems might then have been lessened. Who knows, though? As Penny says in Dr. Horrible, "Everything happens."
So what I want to create is a fulfilling way to make my living, doing work on the artistic and spiritual side of the world ALL THE TIME. Or *almost* all the time. After all, I am beginning to have a better understanding of the financial industry, and this can' t be a bad thing. I also want to create a situation where I truly come into the full power of whatever innate and learned talents I have, so that I can use them for the betterment of my employers, clients, and humanity--whoever they end up being.
That is the intention. It's only a matter of time before the beginnings of its artistic expression drops into my head; watch this space for updates.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Call #10
Well, here you go. The series has reached its logical end point--a healthy, stable, monogamous, committed relationship that feels a certain way. Now the question--will this play out in real life? And if it does, what happens if he reads this? Will he flip out?
I figure, I want to be with someone who can handle it. Someone who's not going to freak out at the fact that--oh my God--I have this shocking desire to be in a healthy relationship. I mean, it's a desire that is common to most people, so why should anyone be ashamed of it?
The way it is with Makani is like this
there is always the mystery between us.
There is never any doubt that he is mine and I am his
Yet the secrets of his heart are his own to keep.
And he does not pry into mine. Yet he seeks to know me, completely, the woman I am now.
I figure, I want to be with someone who can handle it. Someone who's not going to freak out at the fact that--oh my God--I have this shocking desire to be in a healthy relationship. I mean, it's a desire that is common to most people, so why should anyone be ashamed of it?
The way it is with Makani is like this
there is always the mystery between us.
There is never any doubt that he is mine and I am his
Yet the secrets of his heart are his own to keep.
And he does not pry into mine. Yet he seeks to know me, completely, the woman I am now.
The Call #9
.
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
his strong arms reach heavenwards
I bend and sway gently in the breeze
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
you think I weep but it is the overflowing of the abundance of my joy
you think he is immovable but in the night his branches reach out for mine
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
two completely different trees we are
yet joined, inseparably, nonetheless
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
his strong arms reach heavenwards
I bend and sway gently in the breeze
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
you think I weep but it is the overflowing of the abundance of my joy
you think he is immovable but in the night his branches reach out for mine
Makani is the oak and I am the willow
two completely different trees we are
yet joined, inseparably, nonetheless
The Call #6
This is my favorite poem in the series because he finally shows up! I get a mental image of a tall, weathered, dark-haired man, walking and singing. I feel somewhat embarrassed to be so excited about something I wrote--but that's the whole point! It *should* make you feel something. It doesn't need to make anyone else feel anything--that is the difference between creation artwork and artwork produced for others. I wonder if any actual guy would think like this--but it produces the right feeling in me.
I am as old as the hills
and it does not matter.
I have the wellspring of vitality within.
I have within me what you need.
All I have, I lay at your graceful feet,
I reach within myself and bring it forth for you,
it is my greatest pleasure to give it to you.
Only let me enter by the gates of your lush garden.
Let me drink the pure spring water from your overflowing well.
Let me find rest in your warm embrace, sanctuary in your arms, nourishment in your breasts.
I am as old as the hills
and it does not matter.
I have the wellspring of vitality within.
I have within me what you need.
All I have, I lay at your graceful feet,
I reach within myself and bring it forth for you,
it is my greatest pleasure to give it to you.
Only let me enter by the gates of your lush garden.
Let me drink the pure spring water from your overflowing well.
Let me find rest in your warm embrace, sanctuary in your arms, nourishment in your breasts.
The Call #5
A hundred gentle breezes
A hundred little loving spirits
They are all around me
All around me, smiling at me
Letting me know I'm on the right path.
A hundred beautiful men blown into my life on the wind
A hundred beautiful moments, a wink, a smile, a nod
A hundred feeling memories to hold in the corners of my mind
I feel his presence, behind the men, wooing me, teasing me, reassuring me.
He's just on the other side of the veil.
A hundred little loving spirits
They are all around me
All around me, smiling at me
Letting me know I'm on the right path.
A hundred beautiful men blown into my life on the wind
A hundred beautiful moments, a wink, a smile, a nod
A hundred feeling memories to hold in the corners of my mind
I feel his presence, behind the men, wooing me, teasing me, reassuring me.
He's just on the other side of the veil.
The Call #4
I know I'm not the best poet out there. When we create this kind of artwork, the technical perfection of the work matters less than the feelings and emotions it evokes within US. The work is created for ourselves more than for others--it is created as a means of working with the Law of Attraction and our own individual desires. There are no rules for this kind of creation--and we are each our own authority.
An unknown spirit rushes in like a gust of wind to embrace me
and I feel completely consumed, swept up in the fire of his passion
I melt into a flowing fountain and the garden within bursts into bloom
An unknown spirit rushes in like a gust of wind to embrace me
and I feel completely consumed, swept up in the fire of his passion
I melt into a flowing fountain and the garden within bursts into bloom
The Call #3
Descending
Chakra 7
an obelisk in a circular pool
water cascading down the sides, smoothly, steadily
clearest water that ever flowed.
bluest sky, brightest sun
a lush flower garden and a city on the horizon
Chakra 6
deepest indigo violet curtains on the interior wall
darkness, silence, blue flame.
the voice of the Big She can be heard, softly, in a whisper.
Chakra 5
A song, high, clear, the sound of a crystal bell
rainbow prisms, sparkling light
breath carries the voice over the wind, over the meadow
to the ears of those who are called to hear.
Chakra 4
The fountain is warm, the temperature of blood
the sunshine warm, the fire warm
expansion effortless
touching gently, bouncing off lightly, laughter, bubbles
Chakra 3
The fierce Me leaps from the crumbling earth to a higher ground that is also in free fall. Quick, decisive leaps. Sure foot. Sure heart.
Chakra 2
Fire rages, lava flows.
A water wheel turns forever.
Here stands the eternal windmill that powers all creation.
Chakra 1
black. white. bang.
I AM.
i am not.
Chakra 7
an obelisk in a circular pool
water cascading down the sides, smoothly, steadily
clearest water that ever flowed.
bluest sky, brightest sun
a lush flower garden and a city on the horizon
Chakra 6
deepest indigo violet curtains on the interior wall
darkness, silence, blue flame.
the voice of the Big She can be heard, softly, in a whisper.
Chakra 5
A song, high, clear, the sound of a crystal bell
rainbow prisms, sparkling light
breath carries the voice over the wind, over the meadow
to the ears of those who are called to hear.
Chakra 4
The fountain is warm, the temperature of blood
the sunshine warm, the fire warm
expansion effortless
touching gently, bouncing off lightly, laughter, bubbles
Chakra 3
The fierce Me leaps from the crumbling earth to a higher ground that is also in free fall. Quick, decisive leaps. Sure foot. Sure heart.
Chakra 2
Fire rages, lava flows.
A water wheel turns forever.
Here stands the eternal windmill that powers all creation.
Chakra 1
black. white. bang.
I AM.
i am not.
The Call #2
A garden within
in the center of the universe
a clear, overflowing fountain
centered in a courtyard of low-hanging trees
nymphs dance among the trees with wild abandon
eyes open wide, I surrender
in the center of the universe
a clear, overflowing fountain
centered in a courtyard of low-hanging trees
nymphs dance among the trees with wild abandon
eyes open wide, I surrender
The Call #1
The Call
I am a clear pool, deep and still
beneath my waters a wild garden grows
seaweed and lotus, goldfish and koi
gold, rubies, and emeralds--thrown into the sparkling water one day long ago
Leave your clothes hanging over a low branch of the oak tree
Step in slowly, feel the cool wetness gliding gently over your bare feet
I am a clear pool, deep and still
beneath my waters a wild garden grows
seaweed and lotus, goldfish and koi
gold, rubies, and emeralds--thrown into the sparkling water one day long ago
Leave your clothes hanging over a low branch of the oak tree
Step in slowly, feel the cool wetness gliding gently over your bare feet
Using creativity to create our lives
Someday I'll tell the full story of how I discovered the powerful impact my own creativity has had on my life. To make a long story short, I wrote fragments of a story in high school and college, and then forgot about them. Ten years later, I realized that I had lived out that story, complete with its depressing ending.
When I thought about it in the context of the Law of Attraction, it made perfect sense. I had an irrationally powerful emotional attachment to the story and its characters--more so than to anything in real life. In a way, I was in love with the story--and the emotion of being in love is the most powerful catalyst for creation in existence.
It became clear that I needed to write some new stories. This blog will serve as a home for them, a cauldron in which their alchemy can take place.
When I thought about it in the context of the Law of Attraction, it made perfect sense. I had an irrationally powerful emotional attachment to the story and its characters--more so than to anything in real life. In a way, I was in love with the story--and the emotion of being in love is the most powerful catalyst for creation in existence.
It became clear that I needed to write some new stories. This blog will serve as a home for them, a cauldron in which their alchemy can take place.
This, here, is it.
This is the deepest place, the well of creation. This is the place where creation takes place.
I believe creativity is a tool given to us as humans--given to all of us, not just a select few. Given to us not just for the purpose of making pretty things, but for the purpose of actually shaping our lives--and shaping the world we live in.
We have that power.
How we use it is up to us.
I believe creativity is a tool given to us as humans--given to all of us, not just a select few. Given to us not just for the purpose of making pretty things, but for the purpose of actually shaping our lives--and shaping the world we live in.
We have that power.
How we use it is up to us.
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