Love, joy and pieces

Grimy and a bit sweaty, I ripped my shirt first then my bra off, readying for the warm shower that was pounding in the background.  The drops' audible concerto muffled only slightly, the sound of my aqua aura stone hitting the cold, hard tile.  It felt like a slow mo replay as the sight of my joy rock shattering, overpowered the echoes of the fall.

I had been meaning to find a way to encase the stone which I could then chain around my neck.  Now it was too late.  Picking up the pieces in my hand (there are now 6) I wondered what I could construct with these shattered shards of blue.  Just two weeks ago my Reiki master presented me with this stone which came with two simple instructions.  First, I was to bring more joy into my life.  She has helped me rid myself of the karmic, psychic and emotional debris that were clogging my joy pores, because I'm ready and it's time.  The second directive was to keep the stone with me, which was the reason it was tucked safely between the underside of my left breast and my bra, so close to my heart.

So here I sit staring at my 6 piece aqua aura pile of joy.  I laugh because these fragments are so symbolic of my life which truly is joy-filled, and a result of many breaks.  Breaks of hearts, promises, dreams, illusions, delusions, lies, truths, and beliefs.  There are many people who believe in the power of crystals, as there are many who believe in the power of God, communion, chanting, and even joy and love.  These last few months have been an incredible passage in my life- the shift from stability (which was long and hard fought for) as I catapulted in a spiraling back-flip into ecstasy.  How I got here is no feat of magic, just the simple knowledge that I am love and light.  This has empowered me to forgive myself all of my sins- big or small, which in turn has allowed me to forgive others' theirs.  This freedom has afforded me the ability to love myself in spite of my flaws, in spite of my wrongs.  And this, in turn, allows me to freely love the light in others.


Later in the day, after my shaman gifted me an aura of joy, I fell in love with the world a little more deeply.  While trolling around San Diego with a delicious friend I wandered away, getting caught up in the artistry of unknown souls.  To feel the magic in each woven strand of fabric, or brush stroke of genius on a canvas, I was swept into that ecstatic knowing sense of unison with this beautiful world.  A quiet tap on my shoulder told me to look up and there it was- the word JOY spelled out in glistening red garland, just above a green doorway.

I was never taught to seek joy.  Life was just a chore to be endured and survived.  It has taken a lot of pain-soaked years to get here, and to learn to honor my highest self and our needs.  But here I am.

If I had seen the garland joy just one day earlier, it might not have tickled me the way it did now (and does every time I now think of it).  But isn't that just how joy works?  Would I not appreciate and understand the greatness of what I have, if it were not for all that I have lost, all that I have come to crave?  Would your face not be so beautiful or so understood and appreciated, if it were not for the loss and longing's light in which I now see it?  Would you not touch me, unbeknownst to you, the way that you do, if I could not want and feel what I do?


My little pile of rocks is now scattered through parts of my life.  A little bit in my car, a piece on my work desk, one in front of my computer where I sit and write this, one on my night stand, a new part of my shrine to the call for love, and the biggest chunk I keep safely in my pocket.  Every so often I reach into that pocket and touch my joy.  It's mine...

Thank you

Prime rib for the homeless

You know the feeling... you're standing half way between the living room and the foyer, exhausted from days of shopping, wrapping, cleaning, cooking, fretting, smiling, and eating- all enhanced by the roller coaster of emotions that accompany the holidays.  The memories of what you had, what you've lost, what you are, thoughts of what you will be.  And now, at this very minute you are waiting for the company to leave. 

Today's dinner guests were not a well-planned bunch, but included some friends I adore and one that my daughter did.  This was supposed to be a day off for me since my son was going to be with his dad.  The weight of the warld was off my shoulders as I have shed my anger and grief, and this was the first holiday that I wasn't completely dreading.  So I was going to do my nails, hike, and take a long hot bath.  But my daughter invited a dinner guest from school.  This girl, she said, had no family.  Okay... What the heck.  So I invited some friends as well.  Prime rib, sweet potatoes, and an assortment of desserts.  Gripe as I may, I love doing it.

The woman, Ursula, didn't seem to be too much of anything.  She was plain and unassuming, but the more that she spoke the more I realized how bright she was.  Kate had told me that she was one of San Diego's homeless and that she lived in shelters and had nothing.  She talked about how Ursula dragged a duffel bag to and from school each day, filled with all of her possessions.  Before today was over Ursula was the proud owner of a new rolling duffel bag, a laptop computer, shampoo, a backpack and some designer duds. 

When she first walked through the door she stared at the beautiful mountains just beyond the expansive sliding doors, the Christmas trees so sweetly decorated, the pretty furniture and the beautifully set table.  There was nothing in her gaze other than pure gratitude for what she was to be a part of . She loved the food, but ate modestly in spite of the bounty.  She engaged in the conversations with a child-like inquisitiveness when something was not already in her realm.  She could not stop the thank yous from falling from her lips as my daughter showered her with gifts she never imagined she'd be getting.  Jen and I sat across the great room listening to Kate's laughter and joy in this giving extravaganza.

As we stood in the living room saying our goodbyes she thanked me first for all of the gifts.  She made mention of my beautiful daughter and how blessed we are.  She was right.  For all of the things that I have always wished for my children, to be humble, gracious and giving have always been my favorites.  Then she thanked me for helping her to feel like a child again.  She explained, in no uncertain terms, that she had felt that life and God had given up on her.  Our simple acts validated for her that she mattered as a person. 

The final part of her oratory was what moved me the most.  She was worried that our beautiful gifts would be stolen by the other "residents" of the shelters.  Then she told us how she has learned to be grateful for what she does have, even when it's taken from her because these are just things and with a lot of practice and faith she has learned to forgive and understand those who do the taking.  Her main focus has been and continues to be, moving forward.  She confessed that she had forgotten this, but was glad to realize it again.

Her beaming smile was the greatest gift that I never thought to ask for.  For all of the hundred or so thank yous that spilled from her lips throughout the night, the one from which I couldn't shield my tears, was the final one where she thanked us for our love, in a shaking, crackling voice.  I almost didn't want her to leave, but hey- I was tired and life owed me a long, hot bath.

Early in the day today Kate picked my mutant lemon off the tree because it had ripened.  It was the sweetest smelling lemon I've ever inhaled.  You never really know how anything is going to turn out.  Sometimes things just seem so dark.  And sometimes, there is nothing but light.  Can't have one without the other.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Thumper

Reaching for yours

I catch myself remembering

that hand-holding 

is not my thing

Never been one to cuddle much

yet this morning clenching my pillow

my thoughts were of you

Not for nothing, but life taught me

that love isn't magical

yet bunnies thump in my tummy

whenever you are near

Don't like talking on the phone

but I find myself staring

at my pretty red one,

wondering what you might say

I thought that I might never know 


desire again yet I ache

at the thought of touching you…

…you touching me

Who would have thought

this broken heart

could ever 

thump again? 














 

My wish list

The three wise children would like to know what I want for Christmas.  I haven't thought all that much about wanting anything because on the one hand I have too much.  On the other what I still want is not available on Amazon.com.

What I want more than anything is to live in a world filled with understanding and compassion.  If we didn't have to experience the painful infliction of egoic manipulations of angry, sad and lost people, I would be happier.

Every time I see someone doing something for another with no expectation of return, my soul swells.  I guess I would like a little more of that.

I wish that more people would see that their neighbors, their animals and their earth are all a part of them- just as important as they are.  This might cut down on hatred, judgment and all kinds of isms and pain.

Please be happy.  Make good choices that serve your better selves.  And then teach this to my grandchildren.

I wish that people would realize that they are the miracles which they seek.  Enlightenment is not going to be found in a guru or doctrine, but in your own eyes, soul, heart, and self.  Listen to and feel what your soul knows- don't just recite another's thoughts.

I want you to always see the wonder in each drop of dew, on each blade of grass, in every field, every day.  If the twinkling of stars calls you, and if the roar of the ocean finds its way to soothe your soul, I will have enough.


These are the things that I wish for.

Hope

Oh let me be the one

Who fills and moves your sails

The one who thrills your senses

a Love that never pales

Let me be the coupling

That conducts your flowing current

The pulse that beats and quickens

The one your yearning dream meant

My heart knew yours

So long ago

It might have been a dream

But then I saw your

Face once more

Among the living realm

Why don't you want to be the one

The one who’d die to move me

The one who craves this radiant vibe

To soothe your soul completely

Oh won’t you be the kiss of g~d

Your lips upon my lips

My sweetest song, like heaven's touch

Strummed from your fingertips

Your heart knew mine

Before, I know

In a different place and time

But when I saw your face 

in this familiar place

I dreamed you’d soon be mine

Burnt

.
Dark, bone-chilling morning
not yet turned to light
I reach for a match
which when struck, will ignite

A small stream of smoke
follows jumbling sparks
sweet yellow-orange flame
starts to break through the dark

Midst the hissing and jumping
of the heat that runs through me
I crave your deep, grooved beauty
which you surrender so freely

and oh, you keep me warm

In reverence I bow at the
base of your fire,
cup my hands round your warmth,
stoking sweet, deep desire

Not one question arises
in this safe, cozy room
for engulfed are we in this
swift, rising plume

oh wood you burn for me
.

Glowball warming...

Before it was a river
Laid a dry and barren plain
Beneath the mountains’ towering
Slides to flash the falling rain

Before there was a mountain
Breathed land above the silent plates
Soon to erupt within the molten core
Unaware of its magnificent fate

Before it was a spinning earth
A mass of unfathomable light
Forced to be this world we see
Our pleasure, now our right

Before it was my light, my love
My name was always this
Conceived by the rain and cosmic pain
Life bore me, its daughter, BLISS

today, I

lazed under the covers too long-

but not long enough

ate pumpkin bread with

chocolate chips for breakfast

took a looooong walk in the rain

took a looooooooooong hot shower

then sat in front of the fire for hours,

reading and listening to music

ate a persimmon for the first time

watched the juice from a pomegranate drip

down my finger nesting

safely in my daisy ring's crevices,

sliced half of a cucumber into 32 chunks

listened to 53 songs, some several times,

each time better than the last

watched raindrops splash and ripple on a tabletop

asked the universe a very big question

and sat quietly waiting for an answer

and again the answer was wait

I looked at some pictures and remembered

then I dreamed of something new

I thought about how time stands still

and sometimes it whizzes by

and I thought about your beautiful face

and how good it will feel to touch you

Today slipped through my fingers

like sand through the glass of time

I love to watch the grains cascade down

the pointed pile of ground rocks

always changing, always shifting,

always falling away

A waking heart

It was a deep and blissful sleep.  Rolling around under the covers, purposely rubbing my feet, hands, legs, arms and face against the softness of the sheets- I was overcome with happiness.

Last night my son coaxed me out of bed as I was drifting away, to play ping pong with him.  We played and laughed for almost an hour.  It's funny how such a simple thing can bring so much enjoyment.  Looking at him across the table from me, I see a tall and handsome man who has kidnapped my sweet little joy bundle.  But oh, when he laughs, the joy that emanates from that beautiful face is as alive and pure as it ever was.

While we were cleaning out the garage yesterday I decided to donate a couple of very nice bicycles to the fire department.  They are having a drive to collect some for needy children's Christmas gifts.  When Jake heard that he offered up his pristine $400 Haro bike because although he could sell it for a nice chunk of change, he preferred the thought of a child with very little, enjoying it.

Going through boxes and deciding to throw away things that I just didn't need anymore made me sad.  There were so many reminders of what I no longer had, which made me think about what I wished I did have.  I went to bed feeling a bit somber and couldn't find the strength to be happy.  Sometimes, I reminded myself, you need to acknowledge the dark.

On Jake's prompting, I climbed out of bed in my pretty pink nightgown, put on my slick new sneakers and a purple sweater and headed downstairs where that beautiful boy was waiting for me.  The garage was noticeably emptier- gone were reminders of what no longer was, leaving the space more open. In no time at all we filled it will laughter, love and joy.

Thank you!

Nyquil

 I hate the nights where I can't wait to sleep
to dream of things for my heart to keep
to waste away the hours of sadness,
trading for a life of madness
a fury, a passion, a ball of fire
a dream that's worth this deep desire
the one that I know was promised to me
the one for which I wait to be...

Sweet dreams come too slowly tonight

the hole in the fence

I watch the flashing lights sparkling through the trees
but as they draw near to me, I also hear their scream

There are nights when I bury my face in my pillow
to drown the harsh memories of the day's dreary dread

People get angry and they push, shove and scream
Some are so greedy, that they'd steal another's dream

Children are hungry as we throw away food
Sunday's lady dons a red hat and calls herself good

And you, my friend- tell me what do you need?
Say what? You need my help planting a seed?

I lower my head in humble reverence
then find myself peeking through the hole in your fence

All at once the day dims as the stars come to shine
for you who did not claim this yours, his or mine

You said the tree, you see, is for you and for me
and its beauty the gift for the all, for the we

a new drug

I cannot hear your words no more
ear's pressed against the earthen floor
your thoughts no longer wear my face
my heart has won that measly race
my skin now pricked, releases the throng
of the toxic rights and righteous wrongs
snorting the light and huffing on love
of these my heart now, can't get enough

Kinda' funny that after all of these years- all of these broken hearts, disappointments and addictions- the only thing that really matters is that which is in me.  Om nama shivaya.

Amidst the dry chapparal

The hummingbird chaperones
playfully dancing on air
or the rabbits skittering by me
with no freedom from their fear
I am lucky, I am here

And even in the dark and lonely hours
where the warmth of tears tickle my face
rolling slowly down, dropping playfully
dripping, tickling my ankles below
I am awake, I am aware

Climbing the winding and steep, rocky trail
this path I ascend with a slow, playful
gait, never knowing what lies beyond the turn
only feeling what I now feel
I am beauty, I am strength

One lone, little flower, did heaven misplace?
amidst the dry and arid rocks such beauty
calls me skyward with a magic carpet cloud
its billowing underbelly and thick white curled lip
I am flying, I am free

One step, one path
one thought, one fear
one blind vision that makes me see
one turn, one peak ascended
I am climbing slowly, I am, me

A vote of confidence

Alright, so it was one of those days.  One of THOSE days.  Nothing was going to be easy and clearly, none of it was going to feel all that good either.  For an ecstasy junkie (and I ain't talking chemicals here), this was the worst kind of withdrawal.  I worked hard on this project.  Thought I had it down cold.  Assumed I could pull off the finish with both hands tied behind my back.  Guess I didn't expect the whole rest of me to be knotted too.  Several times as I watched my data download, in horrific disbelief, I KNEW that it would eventually be okay.

I knew.

So why did I give in to the drama of defeat?  Would it have somehow alleviated the pain of failure, had it come to that?  How is it not the most important, that I did my best and kept trying in spite of the failure?  How did I lose the best part of me- the one that knows that nothing can harm me and that there is no failure- only opportunities for improvement?

A little self adjustment, re-adjustment of reality and I was back to where I needed to be.  It only took a couple of minutes before I remembered that the failure and frustration were not the goal or the focus- the finding my way out of it was. 

Om nama shivaya.

The mad dash to Nirvana

How uplifting to be part of this shifting world where hunger for a greater light is stirring the masses of the soulularly impoverished.  Every where I turn I catch

glimpses of new understandings
deeper thoughts and a sense
of oneness bourgeoning from its
embryonic state, swelling into a ripeness
of catch words and phrases
all falling like branches from a
pruned tree, at the gardener's hand

Birthing this magnificent sense of knowing,
the baby opens its eye and sees
that we all breathe, that we are all
integral matter as it turns to suckle mother
and we hunger for the great light
as we learn to keep each other
we are love and we are hunger

Forget we mustn't in this dash
to another realm that born were we
not long ago into this human wealth
where we grow, from suckling mother
In birth we did scream for our bodies
squeezed into this world of pain
where we feed on light- born to suckle mother

Letting grow

Life is just a bowl of cherries.  It is luscious fruit, at the heart of which is a pit which could crack your tooth, choke you, or become the seedling of something magnificent.  If we assume that you enjoy eating cherries it's even more silly to think that you would bypass that sweet botanical flesh because of a minimal chance that some harm might come to you.

But isn't this how we so often feed from life?  Afraid we are of failure- ours, our loved ones, our leaders, despots from another land- that we fail to pluck and eat the fruits that are there before us.  Too afraid to anger someone, we avoid confrontation.  Or worse maybe, we look for reasons to keep away from someone whom we are afraid of losing.  Paralyzed by fear of demise, we can slump so low that we hate and react in anger.

Even a half-assed botanist or agriculturist knows that in order to grow, a plant needs light and food.  So one day in a mad rush to clean your house perhaps you stuff a scraggly plant in the closet (of course this could be a bad habit or annoying friend- but hey, this rant is metaphoric).  Within days the plant will wither.  The green will turn to rotten gray and the soil will become parched.  If left to continue in the dark, this plant will die a slow and meaningless death.

We are so fortunate, who know the wonders of the universe- the very wonder that fuels our souls and lights our light.  It is an honor to own this ability to celebrate our divinity, and the divinity in all.  These of course, go hand in hand.  To be this light, the lover of life and all of its dimensions, is a gift that is shared by many.  What I have recently been gifted, is to become part of a world of many lights- to be part of "the glow."  It's kind of like being a star that could light a whole solar system, (and this is mind boggling all by itself), but to then realize that you are just one small speck in a galactic miracle.

So what if that pit is planted?  What if it grows into something that winds up feeding you and by default, feeding others?  What if it teaches you that the miracle is not you, Laura Vigneau, but YOU, the light?  What if in the humble worship of all things divine in ourselves, we realize the unconditional love and appreciation for all things divine, everywhere?  Suddenly that withering plant (our own shortcomings or our vampiric relationships) become a wanting soil that feeds on love and appreciation.  In no way should we let these drag us down, but nor should we ignore them.  You can't force a cherry tree to blossom but you can feed the seeds with love and light.  When we realize that nothing can harm us because of the wonder that we are, then we are truly harvesting the fruit of the divine force within us.

When life hands us a challenge we can certainly choose to ignore the pits and just let them be.  But when we choose to plant them, and then water and feed them with our light and our love- we are as beautiful as the tree we have planted and as delicious as the fruit it bears.  In the perpetuation of this incredible force of love that is set forth we are creating the most spectacular universal miracle and very simply- intensifying its glow.





Namaste!

(Clicking on the picture will create a larger pop up in a new window)

Roll call

There are those who write their name on a list
but when the roll is called they do not come

Many buy a stereo, and a tune to play, or two
but the music remains boxed, never making a sound

Profession of love for the gray of rain
resounds from beneath the dry overhang

And love, that's what you called it, eh?
You summoned it sweetly, but then you hid your face

Run through the rain, let it melt your painted face
Sing a sweet song, sing it, whatever its name

With no particularly linear stream of consciousness gifties on this morning's walk, I kicked the excess mud from my Merrells and climbed into my car.  "Dodo" began to play on the car stereo and I just had to laugh.  This morning I got a letter from a friend who joked about the world being flat, so I sent him that very DM song in the hope that he would enjoy both the message, the music and my intention of sincerity. 

All of the little synchronicities that rain down around us, I thought, (as I nudged my sopping wet hair behind my ears and off of my face) are like dots on a page.  It is up to us to connect the dots, enjoy the picture or even color it in.  What we choose to make of all of these little bursts of light and opportunity are the decorations on our canvas of life.

Dodo

Once upon a time
When the world was just a pancake
Fears would arise
That if you went too far you’d fall
But with the passage of time
It all became more of a ball.
We’re as sure of that
As we all once were when the world was flat

So I wonder this
As life billows smoke inside my head
This little game where nothing is sure, oh
Why would you play by the rules?

When was she killed
The very last dodo bird
And was she aware
She was the very last one

So I wonder this
As life billows smoke inside my head
This little game where nothing is sure, oh
Why would you play by the rules?

You say who did, well you did, you

If all the things that you are saying love
Were true enough but still
What is all the worrying about
When you can work it out

Oh I wonder this
As life billows smoke inside my head
This little game where nothing is sure
Why would you play by the rules?
Who did?
You did, you...

Trophies

Life isn’t about the wins or loses

the bumps or bruises

or the mine or whose-s 

 For he who dies with the most love, grins!

Muladhara

the path was so similar and familiar
to the ones I've walked before

the pain soaked wind
blew the soft, furry weeds
who billowed, bowed to, and danced for me

my core grew numb
yet warm tears streamed
down my face and tickled me

the birds who feared my hunters
perched silent in their tree
but still they sang their song for me

this path unknown
I've walked before
I know the dance, I sing the score

I remember the time when I wrote the sad poem above.  Walking down one of my favorite paths, flooded with sooty ash that had rained just days before, from the Witch Fire. When you're recovering from your own firestorm it is not a stretch to identify with the pain of others- even when it's Mother Nature.  This past Mother's Day while making dinner for my children, my hand slipped causing boiling water to scald my hand.  If you're imagining that it was painful, you would be correct.  It took days before it didn't sting constantly and a week before the entire area wasn't sore.  Just a week and a half later I treated myself to an incredible spa package which included a heated rock treatment for my hands.  I had forgotten about my injury until heat was placed on the weakened spot.  It felt as if I was burning all over again.

At the root of all emotional pain is a comfortable grounding in that discomfort.  Whatever it is that is dragging us down is something that we have always known, and always been able to count on.  For some people pain is the root of what we are.  Whether we had parents who did not know how to love us, or if we were abandoned, or perhaps resented by those who were supposed to keep us safe and loved- somehow we missed out on what should have rightfully been ours.  As a result, pain became our parental constant or our true north.  

My formative years were not completely devoid of love.  I was one of many children and we loved each other (consistently displayed by our angry fighting and bickering), and our mother loved us in her own way- the only way she knew how.  I know that she gave me some pretty awesome gifts including a love of words and some wickedly sharp emotional reflexes.  Always trying to read her whether it was to harvest the bits of fruitful crop, or to avoid the machete that would come flying out of nowhere to chop down the stalks.  It might not have seemed like a gift back then, but now I know better.

So I made some bad choices along the way because my decisions were, although masked in delightful garb, always rooted in the familiar pain.  But one day I woke up.  I don't even know what woke me, but I knew that it was time to change.  There have been times that I've gone forging up hillsides, gung ho, in search of bigger truths.  Sometimes it was crawling through bloodied shards of glass at a snail's pace.  And then there were times when I woke up right back at the bottom of the hill, wondering if I had just dreamt it all.

What a process, and what a long time it takes, to re-discover the beautiful gift of our birth-right.  But in discovering that beautiful divine light that is in each one of us, we are finally free to realize our worth.  This is that step that heals us and brushes away the debris of what is not the authentic us.  Love of ourselves is what frees us.  I continue to honor the pain that has molded me, but I no longer let it choose  for me.  Now, there is no choice- happiness, security, love and divinity are the roots that keep me grounded.


.....................
Carnivorous

Prowling the hills
solitary we hunt
for sustenance
we scour the earth

Finding the kill
that pertinent fill
but rooting for pain
we’re just hungry again

Rip it to shreds
mouth dripping with blood
Coming up for air
we have nothing to fear

Can you survive the stream
Of the blood that flows
Can you rip it to shreds
Will you break bread with me

Will you wear the warm pelt
As we worship the sun
And peacefully slumber
Once the feasting is done

Can the warmth of our flesh
thaw the raw of our souls
Can the depth of our truths
quench us, hungry carnivores

As they lay in the dirt
our hearts beating aloud
They poke and they laugh
The finger pointing crowd

Can you swim up the stream
Of the blood that flows
Can you rip it to shreds
Won't you break bread with me

Say cheese

I suppose that I have always known that one of my "jobs" here on earth, is to make people smile.  It has never been a problem for me, to be silly, or make a fool of my self; for someone else's benefit.  How I got so lucky, at such a young age, to know that what other people think of me, just doesn't matter.  Or, that there is no price not worth paying, to bring joy to another.

It is the giving that matters most in what we do.

After over 12 months of sometimes excruciating pain- the end was in sight.  Just a kidney stone, which should be no big deal to take care of, was the bane of my miserable pain.  A three minute CAT scan was all the proof my doctor needed to see the simple explanation behind all of this pain.  One little rock.  Of course it was impacted into its wall by swelling, but with 30 minutes' effort, it would be gone.  This man who was going to rescue me from the captivity of pain is very somber, and rarely ever smiles.  It's not like me to not enjoy time with anyone because there is always something to laugh about or share, but he is a bit of a cold fish.  I don't know if he doesn't have time for fun, or simply refuses it, but he was not, despite my best efforts, going to be toyed with.

The nurses were wonderful as they prepped me for surgery.  I felt so warm and re-assured as they catered to my every need.  I actually thought to myself that an occasional kidney stone wouldn't be a bad thing, if the result was getting this kind of caring.  They wheeled me to the OR where the OR nurse and her student came to greet me.  Then the anesthesiologist, whom I could not understand (but I surmised must be smarter and greater than the others because he was Chinese) came and introduced himself.  They all commented about how healthy I was as they asked the same questions over and over.  No, I have no allergies.  No, I have never died under anesthesia (not for more than a couple of minutes anyway), and NO- I have not eaten anything! And yes, I have removed my contacts!

Finally, they all bowed in spirit as the man in the deep berry-colored shirt and sharply coordinated tie showed up.  I hadn't realized before, what a respected doctor he was.  I didn't bother engaging him in my pre-op merriment because I wondered what the point was.  He asked how I was (and no, I didn't eat anything), and then looked at me as if he was expecting me to say something.  I stayed silent.  No jokes for him, today.  After turning to leave (I assume to don his glorious scrubs), he turned back at me with half a smirk on his face.  He made some joke about killing two birds with one stone, then gently lifted my left hand and marked it with a marker.  They do this before putting you out, so that you can approve which side they'll operate on.  Makes sense.

It all went pretty smoothly in spite of the collapsing wall which required a stent's insertion.  Ouch.  When I woke up the loving nurses were once again hovering.  In a flash, the scrubbed up doc showed up and asked if I was okay.  Then he was gone.  I did great so they sent me home.

I am so lucky to be loved by so many.  The texts and calls all asked what they could do for me, what did I need, and was I okay.  There were many I love yous as well, from family and friends.  All because of a tiny pebble that I couldn't pee out.

I had a little soup when I got home and then thought that in spite of my haze I would meditate.  I sent love to specific people instead of everyone, one of which was Dr. Nofun.  Then I drifted sleepily and deeply away for hours.  Upon waking I headed straight to the bathroom and when I was done I went to wash my hands.  Looking in the mirror I noticed something weird just above my jawline, on my lower cheek.  For the first time that day I put on my glasses, to see what it was.  A smiley face on my face?  I wondered if my kids were playing some trick on me while I was out cold.  But no, they wouldn't be that cruel- not today.  Hmmmm... then I looked down and noticed that on the back of my left hand was a deep purple smiley face.  Then I remembered that I frequently sleep with my hands tucked under my face.  I guess it was his job to make me smile today.

It's good to be cared for.  

.

Swish, swish, smudge...

A brighter outlook... the power of positive thinking... the law of attraction... seeing things through new eyes...

I keep getting email lectures (probably intended as friendly, inspirational, pick-me-ups, but when the universe is nagging...) about clearing my space and making way for better things.  Cleaning your cache, emptying your closet, dispersing the clutter!  It all seems so logical.  Maybe, but still not so simple.  For someone who has always scaled the mountains of chaos to get where she was going- smooth roads seem as foreign as Australia's bar-b shrimp, social justice or world peace.

The best thing about not seeing clearly is that you never really see that two by four right before it smacks you silly and lands you on your ass.  You never know what you're going to bump into in the dark- and it kinda makes failure comfortably inevitable. And as you're lying there on your face, in an unidentifiable puddle of who knows what, you find yourself thinking "oh no, not again."  You do good, but you never expect it back, and you think this is right.  Righteous pain.

My windshield wipers were smudging up my windshield.  They're not that old, but I held onto them because that's the easiest thing to do, and they represented something that I didn't want to let go of.  So there I was, driving in the rain, unable to see well.  It didn't help that my contacts don't fit well, so between the two I might as well have been crawling down the road with my hand hanging out of the door, feeling for the roadside.   It was surprising that I hadn't driven into something and hurt myself.   The better surprise was when I traded in the ineffective lenses for ones that helped me see.  While I was there I noticed wiper blades on an endcap.  A quick scan of the neatly attached charts and I knew how to solve yet another problem.

As in overcoming any obstacle, time and patience is what we need.  Time to re-train ourselves from the toxic familiar, transitioning to the wonder that waits when we let the light in.  I laugh at myself now when I recognize myself standing in this shadow.  But I laugh because when I look back, I realize how far I've come- and that is all that is important.

When I checked out and paid for the wipers, several people were making a fuss over the dinnerware that the woman in front of me was buying.  It was pretty.  As I joined in the merriment of the pretty woman's new plates, I don't think that anyone around me could have realized how beautiful my new wipers were.

One day when good becomes the more familiar sensation, you realize that life is not a crapshoot.  It's only crappy if you're not shooting for the good.

.

Sunrise

Big girls don't cry

The North Star moved farther south today
It was part of the sky's map, you see
but as with things like love and need
you just can't count on what you think you see

The hills went dark before I was ready
to bid the day, sublime- fare well
but as things are rarely what you wish for
my tongue did not choose to tell this tale

My eyes shed quiet tears of sadness
as one more time love skipped me by
but as joy cannot be measured by the feats of others
my weighted heart just heaved a sigh

Crush me, baby

So, this morning I asked the beautiful question.  After hopping off of the elliptical machine where I'm working on building a more beautiful temple, I checked my email.  From the Daily Om... You are beautiful!  No joke- they knew it too!

Last night I got to spend some time with a man that I am quickly growing an adoration for.  Sure, he's cute and funny and at the very least, interesting.  Smart- not in a refined, Mensa way, but in a way that enables him to see things in himself and others.  I stared in disbelief as he spoke about making himself a better person.  Now that was the second man in one same weekend, who confessed imperfection.  I'm not sure that to someone like me, there could be anything more beautiful.

For the beautiful, no matter how long it lasts- thank you, thank you, thank you.

.

After all, it is a small world

Did you see it?
It was a glint of light
mingled with day before
turning to night

one small flash of wonder
as I danced through day's light
propelled by the magic
of this dream's lovely might

Did you hear it?
It was a note of splendor
which harmony joined
in the sweetest surrender

one small clash of thunder
that wakened the earth
as sweet spirits slept
awaiting their birth

Did you feel it?
moving just for a second,
the universe trembled
for it knew what my heart meant

one small jolt of motion
one heart can't stop beating
one soul for its wanting
one great dream for the taking

     -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -  -

(And I hovered over you today
I hope you do not mind
but as my heart was flying by,
I felt your soul in kind

one flash of lightning
which caught my eye
your dream's bright light-
just lit the sky)

An apple a day

Before my meditation I posed a question to the universe.  Asking for things seems a waste of time to me, as if I am to believe in G!d, I am also to believe that my life is already laid out for me.  If that's the case, I might as well just do the best that I can and learn to live in peace and love in spite of the happenings.  The question- how do I become more beautiful? 

The answer had nothing to do with makeup or hairspray.

Namaste

Once upon a time there was a screwdriver who lived in a toolbox that was sparsely filled with nearly new tools such as hammers, pliers, a handsaw and some screws and nails.  After a long wait the box suddenly opened late one afternoon and in poured light, in the middle of which was a head's silhouette.  The head's fingers poked purposefully through the tools, tickling the screwdriver just a little.  In the midst of her muffled giggle she recalled times when other tools were taken out but they never came back.  Every time the hand took her out, she would help to fix something.  But the hand always put her back. 

She grew a little sad when she remembered all of the tools which she had lost.

The hand then reached for her and handed her to another silhouette.  He turned, holding her closely and carefully and carried her from the garage.  Oh the ecstasy as she swung back and forth in the hand, on a magnificent and mysterious adventure.  He stopped and in the sun she could see his face.  This beautiful man was building stairs and walls and windows and doors.

The beautiful man grasped her firmly then immediately put her to work installing switch plates which he would use to turn on the light.

It is

It is in the long shadows within the shade
it waits for me til I call its name

It is grimmest gray as it hugs yearning earth
dowsing parched, withered greens, quenching their thirst

It is explosive light trapped in a singular cloud
unabashedly longing to be bursting out

It is the dark within a dreary, cold night
that reaches for more, as it craves warmth and light

It is rising sun's splendor kissing ocean's still plane
til its rushing and swelling spawns joy's crashing wave

It is spilling your soul into hands cupped with care
that hold it so dear, just let go - and you're there

It is in the long shadows within the shade
I dance madly, gladly, calling its name

It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less
cuz you get what you chase when you follow your bliss

Wish I may, wish I might

Laid my head back slow and steady
eyes fixed on the moon beaming just beyond me
light so bright it wooed and pulled me
with its lure, its untethered energy

Deeper into the night illumined
to the north bout quarter of a sky beyond
hung the brightest star, had it been bigger
would have dwarfed the moon for sure

I wondered what its name was called
I wondered if it was a star at all
it could have been a plane or comet
yet it moved not from its anchored home

Again I wondered what its name was
and then- I    remembered    you
and all the times you named them surely
as I lingered in your soothing glow

'Bout half way cross the southern sky
my eyes went searching for your sweet smile
and I wondered, through a stream of tears
if you ever knew how much I loved you

Your bright, bright light just out of sight
with the moon so full on this lit up night
but in dreams I dream of life that was you
and pray that time will not eclipse you

Just desserts

Sitting on the beach today I snacked on Cracked Pepper and Olive Oil Triscuits dipped in Roasted Red Pepper Hummus.  I think I burned more calories typing that, than I did in the consumption of the snack.  It seems that everywhere I turn I hear people dressing up the sounds of their tastes.  My mom used to wow us with English Muffin pizzas.  Today they would be basil infused marinara reductions on toasted European sourdough muffins, encased in oven roasted mozzarella, garnished with hand-ground basil.

Somewhere along the line we have become a population of people who expect too much.  When, as children, we had nothing, we seemed to have everything.  A lover gone by once told me that I needed to reduce my expectations if I wanted to find true happiness.  This kind of made me laugh because where material things are concerned I have no expectations.  Sure, there are things that I value, things that I crave, and some that I adore.  So I have carried his words with me and many times allowed them to echo through the hollows of my thoughts, hoping that they would leave at least a trace of wisdom behind.

Two weeks ago my 14 year old son told me that his father had asked for pictures for his birthday.  During our marriage I was diligent in providing him with all of the classic, requisite birthday and school portraits, but when we divorced I took all of the photos.  The family photos- the ones with all of the memories, mostly of happy and fun times.  During the course of our proceedings as he took my house, my child, my money, and my dignity; he also tried to make me surrender all of the photos.  When that didn't fly he tried to sue me to pay for making him copies of them all.  He didn't win that battle either.

I remember sitting in court thinking that I had nothing else to lose to him, so please G!d, don't let him take this too.  The bitterness behind this feeling was not based in jealousy, but in anger and hurt.  The things that he did to my children, my family, and me were at times, abominable.  How could he possibly think that he had the right to own photos of those times that went up in flames because of his behavior?  How dare he not remember what we all gave for his career, as he swiped our lives out from under us?  No, he didn't win that battle.  My children's pictures were safe from the man who harmed them, and where they rightfully belonged.

A lot of time has passed and the wounds still smart a little when you touch them.  Countless hours I spent scanning photos, dredging up memories, crying, and laughing.  I didn't cry for what I didn't have- I am actually grateful for where I am now.  I cried for what I lost.  I lost a really big battle.  Never in my life would I have dreamed that loving someone would be so hard, so much work, or hurt so much.  But I believed that he needed what I had to give and I hoped that he would learn to trust my love.

You know, it's been so easy throughout these recent years, to remember all of the bad that went down.  But scanning the past was a beautiful reminder of some good that also happened, which had been forgotten.  It allowed me to honor him, in spite of the wrong, for what was right. This, regardless of all that happened, is his right.

It took me a little while to get here, but here is where I'm standing and everything looks just a little bit different now.

So as he blows out his candles and Jake is proud to give him his gifts, I am making my own quiet wish that he will find hope; that he will learn to trust love, and that he finds happiness.  You know I thought about making my own cake to celebrate this victory of mine- perhaps a mocha laced cocoa rectangulaire confeit, drizzled in a chocolate ganache, garnished with glazed berries... but then I thought "how 'bout a bowl of popcorn?"  After all, I got more than I ever expected and it's just a dessert.
.

When
the wind blows
let it
bend you

When
the breeze tickles you
just
giggle


When
the mighty gale
moves and rearranges
you, ride its current



If
its force has
beckoned you
stay, come, go

just feel the wind

The truth ache

It's been a few years since I waited for a dentist to do some major work on my teeth.  One particular tooth has been growing increasingly sensitive.  As per usual I put off taking care of it- not because I'm afraid of the pain, but because well, I'm afraid of the failure.  Beyond the sensitive tooth, while chewing some nuts, I chomped down on something incredibly hard and I just knew I had broken a tooth.  The good news (and I use the word good quite liberally here), is that I didn't break anything.  I simply lost a crown.  So now with two major issues, the call was undeniably requisite.

The wait in the waiting room (excellent naming choice) was longer than I liked.  Every time I wait to see a dentist I recall the horrors of my childhood dental examinations.  This was the one place that the girl who almost always got 100% on every test, who never did anything to upset her parents, who excelled in sports, music, and anything she ever chose to, this was the place where she failed.  One year my older brother came out of his exam with 4 (gasp) cavities in just one year.  My older sister was next.  Unbelievable- she came out with EIGHT of them.  My mother didn't waste any time being upset with her- she simply whipped her head around toward me and warned with digital prominence, "Don't you dare."  Oh yes, I did.  TWELVE cavities.  All at once.  Now, in my defense- I was born with a cleft palate and had the most crowded teeth a person could, a condition which has always haunted me.  I cannot convey how demoralized, ashamed, and shocked I was with the dentist's results.

My mom cried all the way home on the bus, with her three decayed children in tow, wondering how she was going to pay for all of those fillings.  This was one of those experiences that wrecks you every time you remember it.  I failed her.  All I ever wanted was for my mother to love me, and I failed her.

So you would think that being the smart, logical and practical person that I am, I would now stay on top of things like tooth aches, rebuilding my life, settling financial scores with my former spouse, and getting on my merry way to having it all.  You would.  I am working on it.

This was the most amazing day.  I had a sweet trek through the hills with my fun and furry friend, showered and made myself pretty and then headed off to the Unity Center.  WHY do people wear too much perfume?  (Or any at all?)  A very sweet and beautifully adorned woman (wearing gorgeous peacock blue from eyelids to toes) came and plopped down next to me in the middle of the introduction to the service.  As quickly as I admired the exuberance of her garb, I inhaled the abundance of her perfume.  It was choking me.  I spent almost the entire meditation time arguing with myself about why I should or shouldn't move to another seat.  I was worried about hurting her feelings.  Besides, I was there first and if anyone should move, it should be her.  But that wouldn't be very spiritual of me, to make a STINK about how she smelled, so I waited, hoping that I would build up a tolerance to the infectious gas that was wafting my way.  I couldn't concentrate on anything that Wendy was saying.  Then I heard the woman giggle and I couldn't help but turn in her direction and notice how beautiful she was- proud as a peacock, in her Sunday best.

No better follow up to the UC, than hitting the beach when it's done.  I've grown accustomed to, and actually now enjoy, doing these things on my own.  It was the most perfect beach day ever.  The sun was so warm, the sky was clear and there was ample space between the sand camps of alone souls, down at our end of the beach.  The happy families and loving couples are usually happy to plop down wherever, so why bother walking?  But those of us in search of solace (like we don't already have too much of that LOL), we walk a little farther and stake our claims where we are free to think out loud and wander untouched by eyes or voices, communing with our lover, nature.

I tried to read several articles from the Light of Consciousness... but my own stream kept intervening and interrupting the authors' words.  I guess I had a few things that needed to be thought out.  I thought about how hard I had worked at making a happy family, about how much I gave to try to be a good wife, and how much I gave over the years, with all of my caring and hard work, to causes that needed me.  And yet here I sat, alone, watching so many happy couples and families walking by.  I couldn't help but think that that should have been me.

But it wasn't.  I have for a long time been angry with my former spouse because of what he did to the kids, to me, and to the family.  There is no excusing his cruelty but there is understanding to be meted toward a person I once adored.  It isn't all that rare that I think about what it is that she gives him that I never could.  What I realized today, that has lingered in its haunting, is that I've been worried that my love wasn't good enough.  I was still worrying that I had somehow let him down.  He simply didn't love himself, so how could he have loved others?  So no, Laura, your love was not enough.  But yes, it was good love.

Following a 45 minute wait in the big room to see the new dentist I walked slowly into the little room and took a seat.  In walked a tall man with a grand smile who asked what he could do to help me.  He was so matter of fact about everything.  He explained that he wasn't certain that he could save my aching tooth.  It might be a little too far gone.  As if he hadn't just dropped a bomb in the room, he stuck his fingers and little telescopic mirror into my mouth and commented out loud about how nice and clean my teeth were.  That was the first time I had ever felt good in a dentist's chair (other than the initial administration of nitrous oxide- but that's a whole different "good").  Within a very quick minute his assistant had the xrays up on the screen for him.  He put his hand on my shoulder and announced that I came in just in time.  A little deep digging, cleaning out the roots, and my tooth would be as good as new.  Maybe even stronger and better.

.Om nama shivaya

Walking a mile in different shoes

.
Sluggish awakening this morning.  Nestling in the comfort of leisure, I lounged in my soft, pink sheets, longer than usual.
Bliss.
Once I was done enjoying the quiet I quickly changed into my trail clothes, grabbed my keys, Poochi's leash and was in the garage looking for my shoes.  You know those times when you stare at something, just knowing that something's different?  But your mind cannot yet decipher the change that's staring you right in the face?  Well, I started to put my right shoe on and realized the difference.  It was missing part of the laces, and what do you know- a small bit of the shoe that housed the lace holes.
Dammit.
Turning and raising my voice at Poochi, I demanded to know, "what did you do?"  Why do we ask these questions?  This poor dog recently lost his life partner.  He has never been one to do well on his own, so his nocturnal garage incarceration has not been pleasant for him.  I listen as he scratches at the door, barks relentlessly, and whines pitifully to be allowed into the house.
Having reviewed all of these reasons for his bad behavior, I was a little more accepting of his crime, but not over my own anger just yet.  As I held the chew-whittled shoe in my hand I asked him what we were going to do now?  He cocked his head, giving me that sweet little puppy look that melts me.  Then he simply looked down, about three feet in front of him, at a different pair of shoes.
Sigh.

Let's go, Poochi.  ♥

In a breeze

In my quest to find understanding as well as respect and compassion for all, I've been stumbling over some of my own emotions. Last night I listened to a group of strangers express their definitions of god. Their contributions all seemed to be those adjacent blocks of pieces, which have not yet, and perhaps never will, finish my puzzle.  It seems that I've abandoned my strategy of looking at the box, to see how this story should wind up.  Only in a truly authentic endeavor, in the blindness of faith, can we find love.  Love of g~d, of ourselves, love with another.  And for this, I am thankful. 

The games that my mind plays when definition does not cloud the expansive possibilities which await me, keep me sitting on the edge of my seat, always knowing that something wonderful is coming. Getting lost in this symphony of thoughts, its sounds swirling around me, I dance, knowing that


a breeze blows and 
how the willow bends, 
the mighty oak rustles or 
the dead leaf dances- 

these are the songs
of the willow, 
the mighty oak and 
the dead leaf. 

The fact that we all feel the breeze, 
is what makes us one.
 
Namaste

I know a secret

I know a secret
it was buried in time
beneath thoughts that commanded
the hollow of my mind

I know a truth
which blossomed within me
in feelings that rushed and
pulsed, quickening through me

I learned of love
it was mine for the taking
but for so long I held it
off while I faked it

I found a heart
that beats louder than any
the one where this love
grows deeper than plenty

I found a light
that burns brighter than sun
and it glows and enlivens
and fuses us all as if one

And the love in the heart
glowing bright in white light
this is love from within
and from you, we unite

And this secret I know
this is faith at its finest
it is knowing that light
is what's walking beside us

And it isn't from where
or to where, that we dare
It is honoring that which
we know to be here

I know this secret
but it's not mine to tell
It would do you much better
to learn it yourself

UNREST

One glorious moment

just a snapshot in time

whispers through the opened crack

between the dark and light

Dissonance reigning

conducting choir's sudden cadence

abruptly, turning, til the chords

harmoniously slay us

and so we live

faith

................

Dancing on each drop of light
sliding down the rays so bright
it's only in this blinding light
that I can see the vivid sight


Lifting my hand toward the light
with palms raised up or clenched so tight
and only in this state so right can I
dance upon this brightest light

And so it is

One little moment

Last week when my heart was feeling a bit restless, leaving my body just a little antsy, I kept wondering what was coming next.  I no longer hear the prompts that tell me to wait, I only hear silence.  So I wait... to hear something new.  This waiting was growing a little old when the possibility crossed my mind, that perhaps I was using my wait mandate as an excuse to be lazy.  That very afternoon in my email was a reminder from the UC that I should get excited about the upcoming Sunday service.  Toward the bottom of the bulletin was a reading from Reverend Will.  Whether or not those were usually included I could not tell you.  But this very moment brought me a story of a caterpillar that was completely useless as it was approaching the end of its caterpillarhood.  It no longer knew how to be a caterpillar as it readied itself to be a butterfly. 

A butterfly.  Imagine that.

So I'm not sure if the universe, God, Spirit, or the Puppet Master (as I like to call god) is accustomed to playing practical jokes on people, but I felt a little tricked this last week.  As I ran my hand over case after case of jewelry, only one piece called me.  Asking the sales girl for a little help I knew in the pit of my stomach that this piece was the one for me.  Not only did it have the perfectly textured separators that I adore, but from its end dangled a charm with Kwan Yin's image.  Kwan Yin is the goddess of compassion who has brought me so much peace.  Not she, the goddess, but she the concept and the freedom which I own to call on her as needed.  It is that sacred knowledge that if you can see or feel it, it is yours.  Amen and Amen.

As I marveled at this piece as I would a newborn baby that had just emerged from me I was lost in the wonder... what would these stones do for me?  The kind clerk told me that these reddish stones had healing powers which lead me to the conclusion that they were connected with my root chakra.  Sold.  We were meant to be love.

I wore it out, of course- no need to waste a bag and it sat so beautifully next to my heart bangle.  But as I admired it in the light I realized that its color was more orange than red.  Sure enough carnelion (according to the www) is an orange stone and is associated with creation and sexuality.  I thought how funny it is that the pure energy of creation and sexuality are so deeply connected. 

On Sunday as I listened to Reverend Wendy talk about our powers of creation I squirmed in my seat.  She spoke of a woman who travels deep into jungles where her life is in a constant state of danger- because her calling to bring the world's condition to light, was something she could not squirm out of.  I listened as Wendy talked about Peter the apostle, as he walked across the water to get to Jesus.  This is faith.  Faith, the definition of which I defined for myself just last week as being the ability to believe in yourself, your greatness, and your knowing.  Then she used the words that rang my bell louder and clearer in that one short moment, than I've ever heard a bell ring.  Inside out.  Those two little words.  They took one little moment to spill from her lips. 

So god, my puppet master, what is it that I'm supposed to do.  Oh Laura, what do you want from me?  WEAR THE INSIDE OUT!  What???  I said what as if the answer had been uttered in an unintelligible language, but I knew its meaning.  As I had been thinking about my stories, my greater truths, and the arts that have sprung from them I realized that in order for mankind to know how he feels which will enable him to feel for others, he must work from the inside, and wear the inside out.  No hiding.  Just a raw and naked relationship- the most intimate of all- with oneself.  And that, folks, is how we get there...

From the inside, out.