Evolution: The Mumm/Mom-O

This is a difficult post for me to write. And yet, I feel it is not only necessary but hope it might just be helpful for others. You see, nobody can really tell you how to explain to your then 6 year old child that their entire life is going to change. To shift. That the little three-person family they have known for their entire existence is going to disintegrate. Yes. Of course, most people say things like: "Don't stay together because of the children." Especially sensitive children. And in my deepest heart I know that my own happiness and well-being directly affects Xavier. That if I can be strong enough, brave enough to live fully from the heart. If I can aspire and genuinely attempt to continuously grow as a person, to embrace the world with open arms and to learn from life's lessons, well, he will learn that too. On the other hand, we could have stayed all together. This, I believe, would have taught him to sacrifice. To settle. To live a life that is ok, that isn't necessarily bad, that has good moments, but that lacks integrity. That refuses to admit the sad loneliness of lost connection.

Years. Literally years were spent in contemplation. In efforts to renew. To fix. To grow back into something that felt like spikes tearing at my soul. It became clear to both of us, to my son's dad and I: "You're right. We really aren't good for each other." You know? A relationship, a good one, I think, should consist of two people who can really hold ladder's up. For each other. I was never able to figure out how to offer a steady ladder and have it received. My ladders looked like the ladders I would have liked...

That's another story. The point is. We knew. It was time to move forward. But still. Nobody tells you how to have that conversation with your kid. How do you explain that, though you do still love each other, that love understands that staying together lessens the love. Mutates it. Stifles it. Hurts, even. "If you love someone, set them free," and all that jazz. But it's true.

I considered for a long time how to have this conversation. Lived in the closet of not voicing aloud what was going on. At one point I remembered Shel Silverstein's work "The Missing Piece Meets the big-O." I even found an animated video of it:

Moral of the story: A triangular wedge is looking for somewhere, someone, to fit inside. To roll with. The wedge, the "missing piece" tries several partners. They all fail in the end. And then "missing piece" meets a big O. "O" can roll solo. Wedge learns from "O" and starts flipping and flopping along. Eventually "piece's" corners begin to round. After much flipping and flopping and bumping and bopping, "piece" becomes and "O" too.

Xavier and I watched the video. Then I said, "You know. When your dad and I met, we were like half-circles I think. We rolled along nicely together. We had great times! We even made you, a little humongous awesome "O" to come roll along! But somewhere along, we started growing. It got harder and harder to roll together. So now we both realize that we need some time to learn how to roll on our own. To get rounded. Centred. And we both love you very very much. But we won't all live together anymore."

He got quiet. He pondered. His life had just been shattered. His bright blue eyes glazed a little. And then he looked at me with deeper wisdom than I can even claim to understand and said: "Mama. You are very wise."

Wise? Maybe. Blessed beyond words? Most definitely. For certain. We live in two places now. He calls my place "The Mumm-O" and his dad's, "The Dad Pad."

I hope you all stay lasting in love and light. That you can keep the love in your family strong and true. If one day you too have to have the most difficult conversation ever, it's ok too. I try, and don't always succeed, to do everything I do with Love as my intention. Acting and being Love. I do think we are all better, fuller, more Love-filled people these days. It isn't always easy, just like life never is. But it feels True. And the rolling along is painful sometimes. Some corners need grinding to smooth out. Fire and brimstone to release those patterns. But life is also beautiful and familiar. The Way is simple and pleasant.

Blessings.

finding Love, right where You are; or, June 16th New Moon Blessings

It was my last day in the magical realm that is named "Galapagos Islands." So much integration and learning had taken place for me, having spent the last two months spinning according to the rhythm of the equator. And yet, after all this life of learning and laughing; of living and loving, I wondered: do I? Fully understand Love? Am I a hypocrite, believing only in Love and yet, never surrendering to it? Had I yet come to a compassionate acceptance and love of Self? And how could I clearly see? See Me...

Journal Entry 

We embraced. Our chests pressed together. Hearts resonating, nearly touching, if only this mass of flesh and bones would dissolve. A beautiful love. As I said farewell, I wanted to declare over and over again: "Je t'aime! I LOVE YOU!" So blessed to meet such a heightened level of consciousness embodied. Not better. Not worse. Different tools, different tasks; same divine light, similar masks. A mirror for me. We ponder the same questions. Have come to similar understandings, are stuck on the same obstacles: "If I know that I AM divine, holy Love, then why can I not yet remain in that state of blissful knowing?"

Hearts blown wide open. All around, within, beyond and all through us, is Love. That is the Reality. And the darkness is there too. Interacting. Gods and Demons. Celine. I will see You again, it is certain. Some lifetime, or this one. You are the deep Love of this spirit journey. Blessed to see. To witness. To Be. I am You; and You are Me. Thank You.

A poem, about Love's unfolding, unveiling:

"I Saw Her Standing There"

Early morning. On the pier.

And though, I can't quite hear

Whether she hums or sings

I notice: Her body swings.

Swaying to a rhythm

That my Being recognizes

Though my mind-state notices not

Subtler realms, inaccessible to Thought

She is nearer now

I sense Her somehow

Then She pulls away

Gazing out across the bay

Without thought or preconceived action

Hearts' magnetic attraction

Draws me closer to Her

Suddenly standing; protocol demanding

That I speak:

"How do they get up there?"

I ponder aloud.

A sea lion on a boat

Sitting tall and proud.

"I wonder that too."

French accent shines through.

Where from? I ask.

France and Ecuador.

Shared languages; Spirits soar.

Et on parle français.

J'aime bien ça.

Elle me demande. Je fais quoi?

Je réponds:

Ma thèse. L'intuition.

"C'est génial! Wow." 

Merci, sincèrement, pour ta réaction. 

Motivé par le même chose, en fin:

"Je veux sauver le monde."

Et elle? Aussi. 

Les enfants. L'éducation.

Ils s'endorment. Ici et partout.

"Comment les réveiller?"

Peut-être...

Avec l'Amour.

Corazón. No judgement. 

Only Love.

Hearts blown wide open!

Love! Everything.

Plants. Trees. Animals. Ocean.

Demons and Gods. Offer due devotion.

Centre to centre. 

Safe now to enter.

We are One.

You are Me.

So beautiful, this reflection I see.

So real. So free.

Darkness, and Light.

Intensely Love-ly. 

I.I.L.Y. (a poem for my Sonshine)

This boy. He lights up my whole life. He is my Sonshine. In every way. Like that line from As Good as it Gets, it is he who "makes me want to be a better person." I am so blessed. And so thankful.

I wrote a little poem the other day, about when he was totally into acronyms. He loves language and word play. He's punnier than I am!

I. I. L. Y

I love you.

I eternally love you.

sweet face

one sunlit morning

appears before me

without warning

woken from slumber

not by the rays of the Sun

but by the heart glow of the One

who came here to this earth

through MY body!

An embodiment

of Love and

of Light

(and of darkness too; he told me that once)

of Sacred Anger

Ready to fight the good fight

Reminding me

each day and night

That to exist is Bliss.

Joy, our birthright.

Not by denying the dark

Not by shying from the spark

But by diving within.

In.

Internally.

Words and language

Creative delight

He is loving acronyms these days

And he got this one just right

"I have a new acronym! Want to hear it?"

I'm barely awake.

Rubbing sleep from eyes

I gaze on his angelic six year old face

"It's I.I.L.Y."

It rolls off the tongue.

Through his sweet breath, profound wisdom is sung.

"What does is stand for?"

I gently ask.

He learned of eternity at the age of four.

Told me it was amorphous, though he couldn't spell then...

He's now learned even more.

"I internally love you!"

My heart melts.

Again.

Just like every single time that he smiles

Double-dimpled angel-child

Sensitive and bright

Wise shining vibrant light

You are RIGHT! So right

Eternity. Internally.

That's the where and the how!!

I'm so blessed by your being

Each and every NOW

Reflections on the Luminous Soul

My laptop is filling up. So I finally ordered those photo albums from when Xavier was a baby. But I needed to find a letter that I wrote to him on his first birthday. Searching through journals. I found it. But I also came across my notes from this one magical Saturday when I was blessed by the presence of Manorama. You might be saying it wrong, in your head. It's softer than that. I was saying it wrong too, in my imagination, before she told us.

I explained in another post that I asked her a question. And that she told me to energize on it to get the answer. I just love this idea, of energizing. And when she asked my name, and I said: "Shanna." She replied, having all the Sanskrit etymology available to her, "Yes. Peace can be very brave." I am only beginning to recognize how much of an impact her saying that has had on me, on my journey to self-realization. Courage. The bravery needed to find peace. Peace of mind. Woah!

Here are some other amazing pearls of wisdom that she spoke, and that I jotted down:

"We are all baby gods, but we don't know it."

"Don't become too in love with an idea; an idea is only a way to feel/know."

"You are NOT who you think you are. You are so much more."

She explained that yoga is about a meeting between the self and the Self and that the mind always tells us that everything we meet is "Other." Learning how to say to the mind: "I appreciate you, but I'll take it from here." Living from a Soul place, rather than from an ego place. Like Ram Dass explained about when his guruji, Maharaji, simply asked him to love everybody. At first he thought he couldn't, but then he realized that the Soul does love everybody. So what is required is to learn how to live always from that place, from the place of the Soul.

Yoga is about knowing the difference. Knowing whether the Self or the self is taking charge. Manorama said that: "Meditation is like dating yourself." And that we should get to know ourselves pa-dei pa-dei (little by little, bit by bit...there is truly no rush).

Remembering that 99.9% of those of us embodied are working things out, which is why we're in body. Kindness. We are already whole. You ARE already your purpose. She quoted Sri Brahmananda Sarasvati as having said: "Yoga is the experience of missing nothing."

Meditation is a practice that leads to communion with God. Silence. It is luxurious, yes, like the shirts say, but more importantly: "God speaks in silence, so in silence we understand." Silence being the absence of thinking, when thoughts subside.

Come to where you are. Here. Now. "You can't breathe in the past. You can't breathe in the future." And karma. Krishna consciousness is this place of no crashing. Yogis fall in love with the steady, unwavering reality. Crash. Not = Krish. Na. But we do have crashes in our lives. Karmic ones. Big and little. These can be seen as blessings. "When the thinking mind can't find an answer to why, then you have an answer to go beyond the thinking mind. In this way, the WHY becomes a cosmic doorway." The cosmic mind is pure energy. It is Bliss. Ananda. Joy.

And she carried a copy of I AM THAT. Hers was black and yellow. She quoted from it: "Where there is peace, there is no mind." Maharaj said that in there. The mind tries very hard to stay in control but it does need rest. Your mind is a beautiful wonderful friend. But it is not YOU. You are not your mind. Nor are you your body.

She said: "If you give it all up, you get it all!" Ishvara pranidhana. Faith. This is different from belief I think. Rumi says, "Faith is a flowing." Faith is an action of the soul. Belief can happen on a mental level. Faith necessitates surrender. It requires that we completely let go of control, of any illusion that we have control. And it feels so so so GOOD! And. It is difficult for me to stay in that place. Why? Energize on that :)

The mind always wants what is new. "Want what you have and have what you want." The trick, the difficult discernment is distinguishing the difference between what you WANT and what you want to want...your arrow will fly true and sure if you aim at what it is you WANT...your Soul wants not always what the ego likes.

At the end she asked us to ponder this question: "What are you taking with you?"

I wrote down: "Peace?" With a question mark. And then in brackets, like this: [Shanti Shanna] ... Yoga is not only union, but peace of mind. Or peace by remembering that we are not our minds. We are indescribable. Beyond language. Knowing nothing.

I am so grateful that you continue to share what you know dear Manorama. Thank you. You have honestly touched me, my soul, more than I even yet understand. It is because of you that I have a copy of I AM THAT. And yesterday I came upon this passage (I especially like it because it says that I am a tree, which is just fine by me):

"Words alone can not take you beyond the mind. There must be the immense longing for truth or absolute faith in the guru. Believe me–there is no goal, nor a way to reach it. You are the way and the goal; there is nothing else to reach except yourself. All you need is to understand and understanding is the flowering of the mind. The tree is perennial, but the flowering and the fruitbearing come in season. The seasons change, but the tree. You are the tree. You have grown numberless leaves and branches in the past and you may grow them also in the future–yet you remain. Not what was or what shall be must you know, but what IS. Yours is the desire that creates the universe. Know the world as your own creation and be free." ('76' p. 330)

But the very line that I came across first, when asking for a message, was this: "Q: I understand that these conversations are to be published. What will their effect be on the reader?"

"M: In the attentive and thoughtful reader they will ripen and bring out flowers and fruits. Words based on truth, if fully tested, have their own power."

Words. Based on truth. Power. Language. Meaning conveyed. I earnestly hope to understand, and to remember that I know nothing. Over and over again. Budding leaves. Vibrant green flexibility. Crispier now, colour filled? Or colour gone? Then back to the earth.

Women Speaking

Voice. Isn't it all about voice? How you use your voice? If you use your voice? Why do I have a voice? Voice...

Afraid to speak. Yes. What can I say? And how will I use it? Choose it. We choose, every moment. Choose to see our thoughts and to know them. Learn them. What are you here to teach me? Thoughts. Fear. Why are you here? Love as the antidote. What is the worst that could happen, if I were to speak? To share my voice. Turns out, I might even be able to walk through walls!!

Last night, I was finally ready. Last night, after Magpie Ulysses struck me more than five years ago with the knowing and intention, with a dare that I couldn't deny. Not forever. I dared speak. And I am so grateful to her willingness to shine. For giving me permission to shine too.

These were the words I uttered:

I heard a woman speak

I heard.

I heard a woman speak.

But it took me five years to listen.

I heard a woman speak.

She spoke true.

Piercing through

The veils of illusion,

Of fear and futility.

Uninhibited by the terror

that tortures my own creativity.

Yes SHE.

She made me cry.

She told me what I already knew

She told it hard and fast and her words penetrated past...

my barriers...

Into the soft, vulnerable pink tissue of my overprotected heart.

A swift silvery arrow of "I dare you" flew

from her tongue.

It stung.

It struck me...

This arrow of dare

buried itself there,

twisting and turning

causing pain and yearning

bringing longing and knowing

that before this newfound discomfort arose

there was only dull, dense, discouraging doubt.

Dead pressure.

Blindly, I carried the weight

as it ate

My passion.

My courage.

My willingness to care....

Dead...pressure... rising.

Uggggh...

Stuck, stagnant, stifled voice

too afraid to speak.

This lump in my throat.

This glob of bullshit and lies.

Scared and silent behind the disguise

Of sick, suffocating seeming safety

Of saying what people want me to say

Of being nice

Of not offending

Of not defending

Of not lending

MY voice to the choir.

And she.

She was named after a bird, I think, though not the singsong kind...

Black and white...

That's right!

Magpie.

Followed by Homer, Tennyson and Joyce

"Speak your voice!"

she pleaded

Though using words far more accustomed to being uttered aloud than

these trembling tones,

trembling bones...

Woah!

my insides are shaking...

(--You could stop. Run away. Maybe...don't speak out today?)

Self-sabotaging thoughts.

Unwelcome.

Hang suspended at every junction of my mind.

Not smart enough. Good enough. Tried hard enough. Lived enough. Never, ever, ever, ever enough...enough...

That's enough!

Enough setting myself up for failure.

Futile, hopeless, detrimental behaviour.

My voice could be heard, for I did just dare speak

But this,

This certainty is bleak:

Nobody will listen.

Not one person will believe what I say.

Not one mind will be changed today.

If I can't trust the guide inside

If I keep hushing Her, crushing Her, so I might abide

Half-alive

but in accordance with societies lies.

I hear a woman speak.

When will I listen?

I have much to learn. And I'm excited to keep exploring my voice! To be in a room filled with such passion, such power. Exhilarating. Stories. Courage. Positivity and sharing. Learning. Healing. Crying. Churning. Yearning and yes...LOVING. I am so grateful that you exist Breath in Poetry. Community. Edges. Learning occurs at the edges...so go there. And share. Share your voice. Your wisdom. Your knowing. You have it too. It's in you. In all of us.

Magpie Ulysses speaks here. I want to share atoms with her <3 

Magpie Ulysses - 98%

"Speak your VOICE"

Last week I finally attended the Breathe In Poetry night at the Rouge Lounge. When I moved to Edmonton more than three years ago, I intended to check out the spoken word scene here. It took me awhile, but I went. This week is open mic night and I'm ready to speak. I have a poem ready to share. I started writing it 5 years ago after being completely inspired and forever altered as I heard Magpie Ulysses read at Ness Creek. 5 years to get the courage, to find my voice...not bad ;) I'm terrified! I'll share it later. For now:

I scribbled the following down last week, at Slam Night, using a red pen. I began during a break. Finished up at home.

Rouge. Cuz that's where I am.

The wine

The ink from this pen.

Blood sacrifice.

To begin

Just breathe it in.

(Deep breath)

Then release it back

Out into the ether

Prana entering

your Soul

Whole

and Holy

Leaving solely

once it has memorized

the nuances of your vibration

Elation! Joy! Love.

Sensations felt down below-

These feelings are above!

 the Pain. the Hurt. the Jealousy

Bad. Good. Bad.

Incessant dichotomy.

If I'm not happy, I must be failing.

If I feel pain, I must be ailing...

Judgements.

Leaving no room...

For Love.

Love even the pain.

Embrace it.

Fucking face it!

it HURTS that you're gone

Our together song...

So plump with potential and power

cut short

Abruptly.

Like when the radio is suddenly taken over

in the middle of your favourite song.

And you were just so fucking into it!

You know?

Grooving and singing along...

And then:

"We interrupt this program for an important news bulletin. 

There is a brutal, ruthless burglar on the loose.

He will steal your heart.

Love you infinitely and madly for a short period of bliss.

Lost in his kiss.

And without even telling you why.

He will leave."

I would have liked to say good-bye.

What. Do. I. Want? (A love poem. A battle. Divine union vs. this Earthly but made of stars body...)

The meditation teacher said, "People basically do what they want." She told him that. She is wise, and powerful. I spoke with her once, on the patio of my restaurant. Those books with a secret author. They will come to me tomorrow. Am I ready now? Better I ask: "Do I want to read them?" Because, if I do, I will. Profound. This idea that people do what they want to. Yes. We do. But do we always know what we want? Do we admit it to ourselves? Out loud? I'll try now. With this font that I chose, writing appears on a screen this time, rather than via the magic of ink bleeding out, forever staining the pages of my journal. Will life force move through me differently as I tap each letter rather than form it flowingly? Like waves, he said: "Your writing looks like waves everywhere." Yes. It does. So what do I want? What. Do. I. Want?

What I want, is This

I want...

Him. And him too.

Admit it. It's true.

To lose myself in their arms.

Soft caress of fingers against my thirsty skin.

Igniting a silent ember within.

The fire cries out.

Begging to be stoked.

Vibrating and pulsing with life and passion.

But not for just any person.

No. Not him too.

Not anymore.

I want Him. Actually.

Embodied in you.

You. Yes you.

And you want me too.

But you know me too well.

For in that short time before we fell

From Love's highest heights

That magical night

Where our bodies intertwined

We came to know the Divine

In each other

Through the Other

Duality fell apart

As your heart

and mine

Beat in unison

Annihilating linear time.

Time became amorphous

All lovers past and future

Seeking rapture

Trying to remember

The blessed, joyous and tender

Embrace of God.

Embrace God. Creator.

Great Spirit. Our maker.

Back into the light.

You wish to fly.

But we're on earth now.

And though I try

(Over and over again)

To deny

What it is that I want.

I know, I want this:

Your kiss.

Soft lips against mine, again and again.

Different each time but just like that time when

I cried after the transcendent union.

All time and space

Fell away.

And in that eternal place

Your face

Against mine.

Intertwined souls.

Deep knowing of old.

So why don't you want what I want?

And would I want it so badly if you did?

This. I want this.

Yes, your kiss.

And your heart and soul.

I want you to squeeze me so tight.

Lifting me up with your might.

And then ground me again.

For all those times when

I escape to my thoughts.

Yes, I go there a lot.

It is safe in my mind

No body memories to define

Who I am or am not.

But you keep me here

Teaching me that there is no need to fear

My own body, my life

Yes there is hardship and strife

But I want that now too

So I can be ever new

Burning off each and every day

The stagnant and stale patterns of yesterday

Stoke the fire more and more

Burning clean until I soar

Right out of these lies

Of futility and sighs

Of feeling not good enough

Until I finally admit

That I really am it

I am All

And so powerful

I am strong and my hour is full

Filled with potential and Love

What I want?

Is to rise above.

But also below.

As deep as I can possibly go.

Remembering forever what I know.

Nothing. Nothing.

Nothing is certain.

Except this:

I want Love.

Love eternal.

And I thank you

My infernal

Savior

Your favour?

To remind me

That I must find Me

In myself. Where Love is.

Always glowing. Showing. And knowing.

And yet...

What with being human and all

Journeying along after the Fall

I still want this:

Your kiss.

Your mind.

Your touch, divine.

To feel your hands in my hair.

To feel your gaze when you stare.

And to know that you see me.

My deep surreal beauty.

Your laugh and stability.

Your passion and humility.

The way you hold such safe space for me.

The way you honour and revere me.

I want you.

All of you.

Your darkness and pain.

I want for us to dance in the rain.

And then fall to the ground.

Our lips not making a sound

As our drenched bodies steam

Rolling around in the green

Soft, damp grass.

We'll look up at the sky.

Raindrops falling on our eyes

Washing them clean.

Illusion will disappear

Our hearts and minds clear

No more reason to fear

Abandonment or smothering.

Deep samskaras caused from society's misaligned mothering.

I am here for you.

I want you to know that.

And if,

Someday.

You are no longer afraid.

Unwilling.

Unwanting.

To be.

With me.

Entirely, wholly, fully, solely.

Then maybe

Our souls will break free.

Dancing together

Passionately.

In each and every moment

That is

Essentially

Nothing at all.

But also:

All

Eternity.

I wrote this poem a little while ago. It's published in Rebelle Society now! And it's crazy, because, despite what I want deep in my heart, I know it isn't the right moment to want it. So I let go. Deep love. "If you love something, set it free." Go free. And be. Do you. I'll do me. I synchronicitously came across a Patti Smith song this morning. 

It sums it all up: "There's a danger in loving somebody too much, and it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust." And still, I will keep my heart open, unguarded, loving, without fear. Until the Beloved in me stays still long enough for me to be convinced of my inevitable, essential wholeness, holiness. "Why would God want a second God?" Learning the same lessons again and again, until I deeply learn how to love in a way that frees from any connecting. Love is freedom. "Love cannot be said." Like the Rumi poem, one of my very favourite Rumi poems:

The Taste of Morning

Time's knife slides from the sheath,

as a fish from where it swims.

Being closer and closer is the desire

of the body. Don't wish for union!

There's a closeness beyond that. Why

would God want a second God? Fall in

love in such a way that it frees you

from any connecting. Love is the soul's

light, the taste of morning, no me, no

we, no claim of being. These words

are the smoke the fire gives off as it

absolves its defects, as eyes in silence,

tears, face. Love cannot be said.

In Transit: A poem (about the effort required to get myself to yoga class using public transit...but not really)

In Transit

The ebb and the flow.

Ready to go!

But are you? Really?

How bad do you want it?

What efforts will you make?

What if things don't go as planned?

How to move onwards to the next land?

And land, you will

Unless. Of course.

You stay still.

Give up.

Following your heart does not mean that things will be smooth.

The path of least resistance resists,

when you fall out of the groove.

That etched out track, carved by those who've gone before.

Leading onwards, yes, but the waves still crash

when they finally reach the shore.

Sometimes violently. Suddenly.

No time to evade.

They'll knock you over. Hold you under.

Stay calm. Serene. 

Patience and Faith.

You'll rise back to the surface.

But you won't find your way...

You see

There is no way.

No right way.

No wrong way.

Tap in. To your heart.

Be silent and listen.

Each and every day.

Find the strength to take action.

For when the moment rises to meet you

 ride the crest of that wave.

Allowing the sea to reclaim what is true.

What is true?

The rise and the fall.

The ever and not.

Infinite moments of forever.

All of space in one tiny dot.

Life, death and love.

Vibrancy and then, rot.

We were born because stars died.

My birthright, soul bright, will not be denied.

I will die again!

Exploding with indescribable light.

I Am Powerful

I Am... Fill in the blank. These statements of claiming who and what we are. My dear beloved friend Megan did a Phoenix Rising yoga therapy session with me, to me, on me. At the end she asked that I listen to the deep wisdom within me and then to make an affirmation. And "I Am" statement. The session had been profound and filled with release and shifting energies. As I sat, listening to the guide inside, I first heard the ego saying things. Quickly and uncertainly. Then the still, steady voice rose from beneath the chatter. "I am powerful." My entire body tingles. A lump in my throat. Tears start to fall. No. Not that. I'll say anything out loud except for that. Witness that reaction! Wow. I did say it. Through tears. And Megan held safe sacred space for me. She is powerful too.

So what is this intense fear of my own power? I remember the first time I ever came across the Marianne Williamson quotation. You know the one?

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” 

It was my first year of treeplanting and someone had written this quotation on the outhouse wall. The red one. I think it was beautiful, powerful Kate, but I didn't know her so well yet. Only later would we begin writing the score for our amazing musical/documentary entitled Slash Dance. "Who decides, if the trees will make it through the night?" And of course, "The homosexual...dandy!" And other great song and dance numbers...it would be a fucking cult classic. We still have to make that dream a reality. But I digress.

The first time I saw that quotation, it struck me deep. It was true. It was so true for me. And inspiring. If I let my own light shine, it gives others permission to to the same. Liberation. We are all walking around, "half-dust, half-deity" (Lord Byron). Divinity in you. In me. Let your light shine. Like the kids song!

I wrote a poem. It includes a vision I had, a genetic memory, if you will. Ancestral twine, bound tight. No more fright. I am bringing it to the light. Now.

I AM Powerful

It is dark now. In here.

Damp and cold. Nothing left to fear. 

They are gone. Taken.

Leaving me in a state far beyond shaken.

I will die too. Soon.

Even sooner if I dare.

As I now endure pain beyond even the sharpest knives of despair.

I couldn't save them!

Couldn't keep them safe.

Power being that which endangered them in the first place.

Such power!

Wild and free.

Deep comprehension of the energy

That is life force. And Love.

Animating all things: below and above.

Healing. Knowing. Seeing. Feeling.

Reality revealed sends most men reeling.

Their mental belief in separation and order.

Obliterated.

Oneness. They fear.

That which they will not know.

And so:

Persecute. Rape. Torture. And death.

 And I.

I would gladly give my last breath

For 10 000 lifetimes

And even longer.

For the chance to grow my power even stronger.

Strong enough this time around

To save them all from being found

By these dangerously vacuous and hollow men

Whose logic and absolutes create dangerously armed brethren

Afraid of what can't be grasped by the mind

Of what defies being categorized into this or that kind.

The beautiful Truth?

We are all One.

If I can save myself this time...

Then my ancestral work will be done.

 

Realize the lies.

Actualize the knowing. 

Remembrance. Divine.

 

And I AM. THAT powerful.

(I'm still afraid to post this. Because, well, there is a huge part of my deeply entrenched neural pathways that believes that my power makes me unlikeable, maybe even in danger of persecution. "I don't want to be powerful. I just want you to like me." So I have been hiding a bit. Dimming my light, for you. But you still will like me...right?)

The inspiration to write this up came to me while listening to Rameen's meditation talk. It was so amazing!! Just so good. Take a listen. It'll change your life. "Your life will never be the same again." ;) You can find links to his talks and come practice live with him at The Sattva School of Yoga.

 

Art as Salvation: A poem

My goal has been to write one poem every day for 30 days. I haven't stayed on track...but I can keep going. Allow the words to keep flowing. Even after the imposed deadline. You see, we can always start over. Again and again and again...being gentle with ourselves. We are enough. Having the discipline to accept myself as I am. The discipline to achieve Self-love.

That went off topic a little. This poem is about the creative impulse, about the Shakti force that animates and colours our world with the ever-new...ever-knew? Who knew? Who knows now? Are we listening yet?

Art as Salvation 

Shower first. Stir the soup.

Sprinkles of morsel sized life sprung straight from the Earth.
Creation's unquenchable thirst
To be given birth

To nourish and simmer
So often stifled by...
How can we remember to make?

That is the question, it would seem.
As we stumble awkwardly through this dream
Called life, love, the multiverse.
The drive to create, to make new,
Allowing inspiration to move through,
Is so often denied.

Enigmatic mind-curse?

Fear? Perhaps.
But WHY do we make?
To please? For reassurance?
For money or Fame's sake?

Perhaps that is what some think.
But try, oh just try, to suppress creative freedom.
Then, do we see clearly the human condition?

We are makers, poeïsis, inventors and dreamers.
Creating works that, via our animated corpse,
Silence all the blasphemers.

As Spirit moves through us, Its eternal trace remains
In all that is written, painted or shaped.
Reality's imprint, ethereally visible to some
Vibrates upon the veil of illusion,
Ever-beckoning us to come.

Come home! Wake up!
And the more you create
The more you'll break free
From this illusory state.

False state of separation
Countries, borders, nation.

Logocentric and ludicrous!!

We truly are all One.
A multiplicity of unshakeable Unity.
And Art?
Art will be our salvation.

I love Van Gogh. And Don McLean. Double art: music and painting. Yoga is art too...yes. Even the way that the guy carrying two gallons of milk the other day smiled at me is art.