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
Monday, October 25, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
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!
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)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
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
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
Saturday, October 16, 2010
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...
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...
Thursday, October 14, 2010
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!
Monday, October 11, 2010
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
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
.....................
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
Saturday, October 9, 2010
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.
.
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.
.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
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.
.
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.
.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
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
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
Monday, September 27, 2010
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.
.
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)
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
The answer had nothing to do with makeup or hairspray.
Namaste
Thursday, September 23, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
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
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
Monday, September 20, 2010
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
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
Sunday, September 12, 2010
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.
.
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.
.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
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
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
Saturday, August 14, 2010
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. ♥
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. ♥
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