Within the quiet of morning

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Awaking to a tortured cat call I felt myself nestled deep in a roll of blankets.  The light was already filling the moisture-drenched fog that blanketed my little world.  It made me wonder if the light actually lives in the moisture, or in the gaps between the water drops. 

Rolling out of bed, I found myself immediately grateful for the soothing gray blanket, a cool promise for a pleasant morning... at least for a little while, anyway.  The temptation to stay stalled my motion, and I thought I'd climb back into bed, lounge dreamily, enjoying these pleasure shades, and day-dreaming of more.  But, already in motion I simply traded in one pleasure for the next.

Reaching for the gray robe, its medium weight and soft, scalloped texture containing the perfect solution to complement my morning, I noticed that this coffee feels like the steady, gentle rain  that quenches a parched parcel of earth.  I wait for its jolt, to welcome my waking.  (Jake gave me this robe and whenever he sees me wearing it, he can't help but touch it, touch me.)  In the meantime I enjoy this hazy, lazy sensation.

Last night I got the news that a loved one suffered a fatal blow, but was hanging on.  Not expected to survive, her life was suspended in an altered state.  The wonder of where her soul now dwells imprisoned my mind.  I dread the ringing of my pretty new phone, but I know it will.  There is that chasm in time, heart, space and mind where we can hide, nestle ourselves, quiver, or wait like a child who shivers with enthusiastic anticipation.  A place where suspended in our joy or pain, we choose to either dwell motionless, or move forward.

So much of our lives is spent trying to survive situations, bad feelings and change.  But this is life!  Life is the navigation of ALL the good, bads and unforeseens.  It's never going to be a rosy-lined yellow brick road.  Its path is filled with downed trees, weeds, and thorns all adorning this "beautiful" journey.  You gotta learn to honor the chasms, navigate the divides, and lay dreamily amidst the shades of gray.

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Plunge!

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The images that stick with you because of the effect they have on your being, are the ones that can never be captured in something as still as a photo.  Their magic can be re-visited via memory, or being witness to something of a similar feeling or a momentary vision that triggers the memory's flood.

There is that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach which frequently feels like I'm going to throw up.  The only difference is that there is no pain and no nausea.  Just a feeling like something is going to need to come out.  One of my most familiar practices when this feeling comes, is to jump in the shower.  The soothing warmth of the water not only brings relief to my aching muscles, but the sound that each drop makes as it hits anything other than air, is a note that sings the song of my heart.  I do love the rain.

Yesterday as I showered in what seemed to be the slowest of motion, I was plagued with old heartaches brought about by the newest pain.  It's the same pain, really, just recycling itself into a monotonous ache that I seemed a little too easily recovered from.  But it makes me wonder if chasing this thing is even worth its while. 

After being lost in thought for an immeasurable time I snapped to for a moment and realized that the water was backing up.  I don't know why this surprised me, as it has been happening for a while now.  I tried Drano and that worked for a few days.  I thought to myself that I really need a man to snake this clogged pipe for me.  I teetered between the annoyance that I had yet another thing to take care of, and the liberating thought that so what- at least my feet are getting a good soaking and will be much softer.  There's an upside to everything.
After the silliness of the wasted minutes mulling my next course of action I reached for the plunger.  I had plunged this sucker almost every day for the past couple of weeks.  It hadn't done anything to help the situation, but I had to still try.  It was better than polluting the water with more chemicals, and in theory, could actually get the job done.  I plunged.  I tried several different techniques, employing varying speeds of push, release, and placement of the suction head.  I tried a little harder than I had previously remembered doing.  It didn't seem to matter.  Okay... time to throw on the towel... this shower's over.

One quick distracting thought left me in the shower for just another... I don't know how long.  I must have been having an exhausting memory of  I don't know... defeat, loss, sadness... pick one.  When I came to I was leaning on the cool tile of the shower wall, crying.

Something tapped my foot so of course I looked down.  It was a nearly empty shampoo bottle that was moving at a deliberate pace toward the drain.  What?  I looked at the drain just in time to watch that last swirl of water rush downward as it made a sucking sound that drowned out the sound of the falling drops.

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Om Bhur Bhuvah Svah Tat Savitur Varenyum
Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi Dhiyo Yo Nah Prachodayaat

Om mani padme hummmmmmmmmm

ohmmmm my!

Pranayama

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you are
light
wonder
strength
and creation
you are
beauty
song
joy
and color

Sky's deep blue reflection
inhalation of honeysuckle's sweetest confection
universal giggles furiously flooding
my soul

you are
breath
blood
life
and light
.
you are light
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Owless in Blunderland

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Tripping across my own foot, lying face in the ground…do you ever look up from the depth of your stupidity and notice how big the world is? How large a person's head can be from way down there? How looooong those legs are that are attached to the feet which just might be, about to stomp on you? Are the sounds warping and coming to you in waves, instead of clear-sounding or intelligible thoughts?

I made a mistake. I hate making mistakes- I always have. For someone who puts so much thought into everything I do, think about or put forth- it really sucks to miss such a beat. I'm wondering if Sunday night's freak dream was my warning that I was about to fall into a big, deep hole. I was fairly normal in the dream, but my guests weren't. There was the sweet little girl who continued to eat gobs of butter despite my fruitless dissuasion. The librarian from the high school next door, who kept tripping and talking like Porky Pig, never got it out to us all, folks! And there was my youngest son who wouldn't talk to me, but kept stuffing pizza into his enormous mouth, motioning for me to lick his fingers.

Maybe I shouldn't have heeded the margarita's call to "drink me..."  Perhaps Pete's party tequila really was more special than others!

When I got the phone call from my sister who wasted no time in dropping the bomb on my head and doing her best to make sure I felt worse than she did, I don't know if I was more angry at someone else, or myself. The "someone," for being rude and ridiculous to my sister, my sister for not having the gumption to stand up for me, or ME- for being the reason that the mistake happened in the first place.

Being a little too frazzled to actually remember what I was shopping for (oh right- the COMPUTER I'd promised myself), I raced to the checkout stand as if I was late for something.

The ride home was dizzying at times as I expanded in my self-assurance that what I did, although imperfect, was not really a bad thing. But then I'd shrink back to feeling really badly that there were repercussions of my error, that my sister had to pay for. Before I turned the corner onto my road I was secure in the knowledge that my mistake wasn't the end of the world. I called my sister back and shared my enlightened take on the matter. She wasn't as agreeable as I, but I know that she heard me and even she, who was madder than a hatter, was no longer calling for the offing of my head.

Earlier this week I surmised that there is no such thing as failure.  There is simply an  ever-present opportunity to do things better the next time.  You need to begin at the beginning and go to the end.  Then stop. 

When I awoke the next morning after a very peaceful sleep my second thought was related to my blunder. My third thought was that what I did was with good intention and no one was going to take that away from me. The animosity and anger didn't house enough fuel to make me care. (My first thought, in case you were wondering, was THANK YOU for my beautiful life.  Seriously- WHO could be luckier than me??? )

"But it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then." -Alice

Dried fruit

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gasping for air under the sea
my breath just keeps running out
an unsealed balloon let go then shouts
lands limp and lifeless, run aground

well of water now run so dry
hardened, unable to soak up a drop
from rain, mist, or heart wrenching pain
rolls away, runs away, just can't stop

scrounging for crumbs to feed this thing
a hunger that just keeps crying out
foraging forests and breaking off limbs
maybe it's time to stop and sit this out

starving this fever to nourish my soul
when drawing in breath lets the living begin
stowing safe in this canopy's green
til the ground is ready to thirst again

I have certainly lost more than I've won, but I know that what matters most is not the grounding, falling or breaking- but the intoxication of the journey and the learning.  You are loved.  You are. 

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Meta tags

I'm sitting in the stuffy, warm loft waiting for the night's cool air to come drifting through and touch me.  The best thing about this day was that I gave joy and laughter to a crowd of people that I love.  It was a slideshow filled with memories of the last three years.  The most wonderful moment for me came when everyone laughed in unison and I realized what a unifying force laughter is.  A good number of the memories were triggered by events that I created, so there was a humble pride that swelled in my chest.  What an amazing thing it is to witness others' receiving of a gift. 

Tonight following my yoga practice, I will assume my meditative position, practicing meta-tation.  This is the sending of love.  First, it is to all of those that you love daily.  Then those whom I miss will follow.  Then I'll probably choose the victims of some plight which I am so fortunate to not be part of.  I will end with those who have hurt me- hoping that they still feel the love that I send.  In closing I will send the love that I hope to give, with gratefulness for the ability to love as I do.

And yes, although getting love is not the motive for giving it- it always come back to me.

Thank you.

(Re)Born Free

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We got a great, early start on the trail this morning, before the sun peeked over the mountain.  As the back-lighting swelled, the yucca became magnificent installations of shadows against the sky.

The bunny madness was so much fun to watch today.  They must be at the height of the reproduction cycle because there were more of them, than there were gnats.  My pups were practically dizzy watching, their heads darting back and forth, to and fro- wishing they were running with them (or more likely, after them).  Every now and then one would be close enough that at the leash's extension, they could almost reach one.  Each time they failed they simply waited for the next bunny to hop along. 

Acceptance of a situation following any form of loss, is what we need to achieve, to move on.  This rarely comes easily (unless you're a dog), but I'm beginning to know that it can certainly be easier.  As many times as my heart has broken, it breaks again, every time I learn of someone else's loss.  There is nothing you can do about grief, other than survive it.  It's real.  It's painful, debilitating, and can paralyze the most sensitive heart.  I know.

Another thing that I know is that love- the one that burns in our hearts- the one that we can't seem to shake- the one that we're always trying to find again- it never left you.  That love is not part nor parcel of a former relationship, not lost in time because someone is no longer loving you.  It is right there- yours for the taking- in your own heart.  All that we know, seek, love, are, or long to be- they're all parts of us now.  That beautiful love that you knew, it is you now.  And that part of it that moved on, well- it's gone.  In time you will know it again- maybe in a new color, song, or words- you just need to want it.

Sometimes love changes.  Sometimes people move on.  This is what renders a heart hopeless.  Beyond the grief of losing that which you hold so dear, remains your love.  Maybe it's a bit withered or weathered, but always- yours for the taking and yours to share with a new heart.  I've had an incredible few years meeting new friends who want to love.  But, giving your heart away can be a very scary thing.  There were times that I've just wanted to shake someone in the hopes that they'd come to their senses.  But what sense is there in convincing someone to love you?  Only the wild, free, authentic choices that we make where are hearts feel at home, are the ones worth making- or having.  Love, that thing that burns in your heart, is re-defined every time you fall again.  No two loves are alike, and why would you want them to be?  Keeping your heart anchored to a leash is certainly the safest choice, but me?  I'm running with the bunnies.  I would rather die, trying.

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Can't seem to name it

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a brilliant glow turning black into light
as breathless I beckoned the call of my flight
the earth stopped its spin, ending the race
tell me -what did I see before I saw your face?

black sky so still as if frozen in time
awaiting the change to a thaw most divine
then came morning's light melting ice into blue
tell me- what did I drink before I drank you?

tickled and silly and drowning in space
the euphoric end of hearts wildly unpaced
I surrender to you and beckon this death
tell me- did I ever breathe before you were my breath?

a hungry mingling of souls' limbs to touch
this heated fury of waters that rush
swimming in a notion known by so few
tell me- what was love before I loved you?
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Sunrise!

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This morning's waking was filled with such beauty- thoughts, words, feelings, dreams... that I thought I was still sleeping. 

By the time my brain was awake enough to apply the necessary centrifugal force to the feelings, reducing them to words, it was time to hit the shower.  Three separate poems were jumbling so furiously in my mind (reminded me of that corn popper toy that babies push around) that I got kind of dizzy.  I held onto one of them and jotted some of it down.  I'll play with it later.

As for the lost treasure- it's like opening your wallet on a really windy day and watching the dollars just fly away.  Shiiiiiittttttt...

Oh well, maybe someone who needs them more, will find them later. 

Namaste

after all, it is a small world...

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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)

3...2...1...CONTACT!

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So I finally decided to do a “grown up” thing this week… I got contact lenses. Other than the experience that I’m about to share, it has been a wonderfully beneficial, self-indulgent treat.  I can’t believe that I waited this long. Wearing them makes so many things easier, such as picture-taking. I can see clearly wherever I look! 

Another bonus is that there is no on and off of the glasses, or even better- no sliding the glasses up over the top of my head every time I want to see across the room.  This in and of itself is not a bad thing and sometimes I rather like the way I look with my hair pushed back. There have been times, on bad hair days, when I employed this instant transformation to headband when the cute FedEx guy came to deliver my packages.  The real trick there is to remember when signing for your packages, to do it blind, and not re-apply the glasses to your face in front of the hot man because when you pull them from your head not only do you usually wind up with random chunks of hair sticking up all over, but the nose guard pieces usually reach out and grab some random hair strands which might cause you to squeal inappropriately, thus reducing your sexy factor. 
The snafu encountered (there’s supposed to be one in every chapter, isn’t there?) in this undertaking was when I went to remove the lenses on Sunday night. One of them was gone. I knew that I hadn’t taken it out and there was an unfamiliar and painful irritation in the corner of my eye. Of course I immediately started my search online, to see what to do. The good news consensus was that it couldn’t have gone too far and certainly wouldn’t have floated into my brain where it would wreak havoc on my neurological skills, or cause me to see out of my ear. Nor would it work its way to any inappropriate facial orifices, to be sneezed or coughed out later. No, it would have to have been safely nestled into a corner in one of my eyelids.

Being a holiday the ophthalmologist's office would not be open the following day so I carefully lubricated my eyes (both of them, JUST to be safe) before going to bed. I spent many hours of the next day hunting for the dang thing, squeezing my eyeball in the hope of popping it out. That didn’t work and my paranoia left me believing that it could possibly be sitting right on the front of my eyeball, unseen by me, since I just can’t see without my glasses. (You’re laughing at me, right?) Convinced of this I made far too many attempts to remove the allegedly stuck lens, and wound up scratching my eye with my famously hard finger nails. Half way through this procedure I was already looking like Satan’s spawn with my glowing red eye, but this was far too embarrassing to walk into the doctor’s office with, so I continued my effort.  Gawd forbid I should fail...

Even I can eventually get to the point where I give up. I’m not sure which weighed heavier, the pain or the frustration, but I had had about enough. I lubricated every hour and then hit the sack with my throbbing, scarlet visionary blunder. The doctor’s office would be open again the next day.

If I had a dime for every time I tried hard, a nickel for every “I think I can” thought, and a dollar for each ounce of perseverance I've mustered over the years, my poor and tired self could cash in on an unprecedented wealth.  Knowing when to surrender, when not to, when to stop and listen, when to speak your mind, or how to be content without losing your dreams...  it's all in the balance.  There were times in my life when clawing and digging were the prescriptive solutions to resolving my needs or chasing my dreams.  Sometimes, these days, I get more out of the chuckle that slips from my lips when I think about how silly I've been, and how little some things really matter.  My adoration of simplicity seems to be the mounting treasure of late.  Being content with authentic matters of the heart and mind, than in what I thought I should see, or what others might... it's a clear vision that sets us free.

There's nothing wrong with these simpler, quieter times.  Maybe it's better to just enjoy them and stop trying to make something out of nothing.  Sometimes, it just is.  Kinda' like when you go to the eye doctor and she sticks q-tips under your eyelid and pokes around (not entirely painlessly) for a few minutes only to find that there's nothing there at all.  You're just fine.  I kept expecting for something to be wrong, so I kept trying to remove something that wasn't even there. 

I can see clearly now, the pain is gone...

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