Write Yourself Alive: Stream of Consciousness

I am participating in this wonderful creative discipline practice called Write Yourself Alive. Today, day 7, 's writing prompt is stream of consciousness...15 minutes...ready...set...GO!!!!

Time check so at 11:03 I stop good now that the illusory time thing is taken care of what is in here in hear in my ear or between them spaces and then between that space too...ooops. Punctuation is allowed for me. Because I'm a rule breaker and a rebel and it is part of my words...how can we distinguish punctuation from words? they're all made up signs that signify nothing an everything all at the same time. Meaning. Made and unmade. For what? To know and feel safe...but what is safer than knowing. Knowing. I know nothing and between love and wisdom....that everything and nothing that we all are. Are we? At all...I mean. I am....I AM...AM I? Sure of that. That I am...how can I be the eternal unspeakable can't be named consciousness births humans like the ocean births waves. If I am a bundle of energy (I really am that) then what is the I? Is it anything at all? Everything and nothing...the problem with dualism...it negates but also doesn't, because of the in between. Between me and my thoughts...between creation and destruction...between you and me. Love. Life. It ALL happens in the in between. Maybe? Certainty scares me...absolutes dogma ideology thinking we have it all or just anything figured out. I glanced at the time....I still have 10 more minutes of this...rambling. MEditation. The guy, Tyler KNott sent a rambling mediation spoken word piece to inspire us. It was a love piece. He wrote the most beautiful and powerful words for a woman he loves. Words that I would give anything to hear directed at me...but they aren't for me. Love. I need love. BUt it is within me...can I write myself a love poem? I can. Yes...I can. And I do. So what is it about outside reassurance? about outside anything...I am enough good enough BUT I still want to fall madly wildy and deeply in love without any holding back or fear of heartbreak with all my all that I am though I only just intellectually get that I AM THAT and so are you and so is everyone so I am you and you are me and we are all wee drops in an endless evershifting sea of familiar love stories, broken hearts, archetypes and myths played over and over again the stories we tell ourselves can become our own personal freedom or our own personal hell...Hell is where I need to go if I want to let go of all these cloaks that I wear each day, keeping me safe. keepin me in. keeping me form showing the power and strength within. they'll hate me if they know what i'm capable of...but so. i don't care anymore...rhythm and power and strentgh bubbling up up up and away. it's you too. the power is you so don't be mad at me for showing it. just shine your own fucking light and quit trying to dim other peoples' we are all inherently powerful...oh! i almost deleted! edited. that would be going too far. darkness. I'm afraid that if I show you the bitter angry one then...then? then what?! stories or not, enough is enough. support each other. bolster each other. why be so selfish with all your love anyway nahko asked that. share it. spread it. like a magic penny. didn't you learn that song as a kid? hold it tight and you won't have any. lend it spend it you'll have so many. love doesn't diminish by being made known. and it can't hurt you. love doesn't hurt not ever not ever. Xavier told me that. it's true. He is true and wise and I am so blessed to be his mother. powerful deep maternal love for all the entire earth and planet and all that is on it. but this maternal love is getting more and more angry and the fire that burns within her is becoming brighter and brighter and i'm not going to quash it anymore. we all need to light up bright up wake the fuck up! mama bears everywhere for the children all the children our children all of ours the animals plants and creatures the microbes even all of it enough is enough is enough no more...ohhhhhh... this anger makes me tired. how to use it effectively? this. this is the challenge. the task. I ask only that you do your work, on yourself. I'll do mine. that I promise. time to wake up, one interconnected individual at a time!

Phewwwwww...it's 11:03...

Loving thoughts and Accepting my beautiful broken Heart

Sloan's song "I can feel it" just came on. "But you've got a thing for me. I can feel it. I can feel it. And I've got a thing for you too. You can have it." Feeling. We can feel it, even when we aren't consciously aware.

This past weekend I had the immense privilege and good fortune to learn from Suzanne Faith Slocum-Gori. Let me just say, unselfconsciously and without "complexity or pride," that I love her. In one of her workshops she illuminated the seat of the teacher, focusing on how to hold sacred space for students. And since we're all students, all teachers, her insight and wisdom is invaluable for all of life. So much invaluable knowledge was shared and I am so grateful. 

But back to "feeling it": at one point the tangibility of the energy of thoughts came forth. The energy of thought is felt. Felt by the students, felt by all of the people that one might direct thought at. Judgment. As teachers, as people, we need to take responsibility for this. When teaching, she asked that we look for what is beautiful about the student, find their strength and encourage that. Then they will also feel that beauty, that strength. Instead of looking at someone in down dog and seeing misalignment or tight hamstrings or lack of integration, find their specific strength in the pose. Maybe it could be their earnestness or the power in their legs or their core, or the flexibility of their joints. There will always be something positive in their approach to the pose, and to life. Peer out from the Self with Love first, before trying to detect possible ways of improving. Love first. Right? This is why the famous Mother Theresa quotation is so foundational: "If you judge people, you have no time to love them." This applies also to the Self. To the negative self-talk that can run rampant through one's mind. Catch it! Do not engage in self-harming via your own thoughts. Being gentle and kind with myself has been and continues to be a challenging lesson to fully integrate. I am enough. I am enough. One more time: I am enough. For me!

Acceptance of all of me. As Suzanne led a practice at the Sattva School of Yoga this past Monday she began by explaining how she had felt a yearning to call in Courage and Strength. The light of awakening is at hand...at mind? at heart? at soul? Shreem! We chanted an invocation to the Divine Mother in her many aspects. "He maha Lakshmi, He mata Kali, He Saraswati, Jagatombe jai jai Ma, He ma Durga, He ma Durga..." In my own practice honouring and praising the Divine Feminine has recently become intuitively necessary. I guess I could say, I have had and continue to have a deep yearning to chant and give thanks to the Divine Mother. I've been chanting the following, and, having only read the words, the rhythm comes from within me: " OM Jayanti Mangala Kali Bhadra-Kali Kapalini Durga Shiva Ksama Dhatri Svaha Svadha Namo'Stu Te." So powerful, these Sanskrit words vibrating through my entire being. Kali Ma!

Back to the practice, leading up to the revelation, the mini-epiphany. Sweat dripped off of me, I found myself in a pose I had never managed before (visvamistrasana variation), as a deep fire burned through some of my samskaras (I hope!). And then, during the meditation this liberating acceptance and Truth came to me: "I accept my broken heart. I accept my broken heart. I accept my broken heart." Over and over. There was no me, no space, nothing tangible surrounding my body; simply light and love. I don't only accept my broken heart, I LOVE it. It makes me who I am, it brings the depth and understanding that I have gained through life experience, through past life experience, and provides the sweetest compassion along with the fiercest love and protection. Blessed. I am so incredibly grateful for this path that unfolds, for my journey into Being.

I accept my broken heart

I accept my broken heart

I love it

Thank God for the pain

The experience

The depth.

Yes! Blessed

To feel. To reveal.

Nothing wrong. Nothing right.

Acceptance that dissolves fright

Shifting from darkness to light.

Ephemeral beauty.

Spiritual duty.

Dancing. Keep dancing. Ever chancing.

Emptiness vibrating.

Nothing in Every-thing.

To be or to not? Impossible quandary.

Allow. Let go. Let grow.

The river will unstoppably flow.

Evolve.

Is-ness. Unmasked. 

And here is David Newman chanting to the Divine Mother.

Love Embodied: Blessing? Or Curse?

Of late, the notion of divine Love has been at the forefront of my contemplation. Understanding love...can we? Maybe we can over-stand it. Maybe love cannot be said. And, for those of us who find ourselves on the arduous and wildly transformative spiritual journey, seeking God's Love, (though we know it is already and always a part of us, is contained within and without us), for us, does human embodied Love support or hinder the journey towards Self-realization? These questions are meaningless and yet indicate the mistake, the human error. What is love? Where is it? Why is it? Divine Love?

I had the immense pleasure and opportunity to write a paper last year in my comparative literature class that does not fit into the usual mold of academic paper writing. Therein, Shakespeare, Rumi, John Donne, Hildegard of Bingen and St. Augustine, all conversing in the Akashic field, examine Plato's Symposium in an attempt to decide whether or not it displays an adequate understanding of the nature of Love. It was fun. If you you were interested in reading it, do let me know! I'd me more than happy to e-mail you a PDF. Keats makes an appearance at the end! "Beauty is Truth."

This morning I found myself heading down a nostalgic deep road of Bon Jovi. He has a beautiful rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" that I had never heard before. The line, "And remember when I moved in you? And the holy dove was moving too. And every breath we drew was Hallelujah." Like that, earthly love becomes momentarily divine. And those moments, so powerful, though fleeting, are difficult to let go of. Moments of rapture on the way to realizing eternal and unwavering bliss. Do they detract? Distract? Create addictive like behaviour? They certainly can. Yes. But they also bring forth knowing that there is a greater Love, a constant and ever-present Love. Breaking down the barriers that we've created against it. And in my Bon Jovi marathon, a line from "Bed of Roses" resonated: "I wanna be just as close as, the Holy Ghost is...and lay you down. In a bed of roses." Humans seeking divine union. A curse? A blessing? This depends on the clarity of purpose held by each Soul, I suppose...

Unending Love

I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, it’s age old pain,
It’s ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star, piercing the darkness of time.
You become an image of what is remembered forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers,
Shared in the same shy sweetness of meeting,
the distressful tears of farewell,
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.
Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours -
And the songs of every poet past and forever.

― Rabindranath Tagore, Selected Poems

With Love; Blessings for 2015

With Love

"Whatever you do, do it from a space of love."
He said that. To me.
Wisdom.

Did I understand then? Not quite.

From love. The heart.
From that part
Inside that IS the whole.
Soul.

Beauty and Bliss.
From this,

From this place, I can do no harm.
Can cause no pain.

Act. With Love.
Think. With Love.
Be. With Love.

Only Love. Is Real.
Feel.

Feel deep. Go there.
Finding the courage to face yourself.
And to stay.

This.
Is Love.

All that we do, and all that we seek,
Guided or misguided,
Is because of Love–
Love of Self.

Self-Love!
Fill up. Overflow!
Let it flow.
Let it grow.
And know, that there is really nothing to know.
So let go.
Gentle softening. Surrender.
So tender. The mender, of hearts.


With Love.
Eternal.

A passage from Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj in I AM THAT:

"That which you are, your true self, you love it, and whatever you do, you do for your own happiness. To find it, to know it, to cherish it is your basic urge. Since time immemorial you loved yourself, but never wisely. Use your body and mind wisely in the service of the self; that is all. Be true to your own self; love your self absolutely. Do not pretend to love others as yourself. Unless you have realized them as one with yourself, you cannot love them. Don't pretend to be what you are not; don't refuse to be what you are. Your love of other is the result of self-knowledge, not its cause. Without self-realization, no virtue is genuine. When you know beyond all doubting that the same life flows through all that is and you are that life, you will love all naturally and spontaneously. When you realize the depth and fullness of your love of yourself, you know that every living being and the entire universe are included in your affection. But when you look at anything as separate from you, you cannot love it because you are afraid of it. Alienation causes fear and fear deepens alienation. It is a vicious circle. Only self-realization can break it. Go for it resolutely." (187)

 

Love Evolving

There was this little video on facebook the other day. It had something to do with "real love" versus "ego love." It was a nice reminder. Wanting the people you love to be happy, regardless of whether or not that means you are significantly part of their lives. Apparently, according to a yoga healer guy, the Maori culture views love as the space between two people. I dig it. I said something like that myself, after contemplating Marc Chagall's paintings. To quote myself (haha):

"Love is the existence of the ephemeral balance of sun and moon energy, of reason and intuition, of the head and of the heart. It is the point just there, in the in-between, where dualism and dichotomy can no longer exist, and where creation and destruction appear as simultaneously inevitable aspects of being."

But I haven't always had these ideas about love. Check out this heart-broken, Princess Buttercup in her rocking chair breathing the words "I will never love again," poem I wrote after my wild and passionate love affair with a dive instructor from New Zealand. Aroha Nui Dear Tony ;)

But lately. Unconditional ego-less love has been something I've understood and felt. Admittedly, I forget once in awhile. But still. Love liberates. Love transforms. And ultimately, though it can really fucking burn: LOVE HEALS.

Red flame of love. 

Lick me clean with your many tongues. 

Fire. 

Purifying. 

Dull metals littered with the dust and debris of Time Form anew. 

Pure. 

And strong. 

 Love grows when. 

Without will or purpose. 

Grows as it feeds on the knowing, that only IT possesses. 

Certainty that is lost in the mind-trap of language-thoughts. 

The heart. 

The you. The me. The in between. 

In that space. 

Infinite. Infinity. 

Expansive transformation. 

Love. She liberates. 

Everything else arriving disguised in Love's clothing: 

The pain. The hurt. The longing. 

All ego. Le moi-superficiel. Ahamkara. 

 And the deeper Self? Le moi-fondamental? Purusha? 

Peace. Love. Knowing. 

Always et pour toujours.

Batter me Shatter me, I'll surface renewed

The last few months have proved, well, they've proved painful. Literally. My shoulder has been hurting since May. My left knee started feeling funny when I sat in virasana (hero's pose) and of course, I have my usual burning pain behind my right shoulder blade (actually! it moved down two inches and switched to the left...). Even though these signs might have been asking me to slow down, to nurture and love my body, my temple, I didn't do that. I just thought they might go away on their own...

And then, while walking down an ever so slight incline, wearing flip-flops, my foot slipped a mere 20cms. To catch myself, I quickly stepped with my left foot. Upon lifting my leg to step, I felt the most excruciating pain and my left quads exploded. Now, yes, I do have a tendency to exaggerate, and while they didn't literally explode, they were instantly deformed. I held them down, pressing firmly with all the healing energy I could muster. It didn't matter. This was no slight spasm. It hurt so bad I almost puked. And then, I started limping the several blocks to my car...luckily someone I barely knew saw me and saved me. I couldn't really walk for a week and then I limped around for a few more. Rather than get super bummed about not being able to practice yoga, I instead practiced yoga! I meditated and practiced pranayama. And this, this is where the real work begins (for me at least). But still! I was desperate to be ready to practice yoga asana again. The quads were mostly healed. And an amazing yoga event was coming up in Edmonton; I already had tickets to the Bloom festival and I was going no matter what!

I attended the entire week-end and from Friday night at the Muttart until the very end, I was blooming and opening and blooming some more. I sat near and amongst most gorgeous and inspiring flowers, and I learned. As Shane Koyczan writes: "So I sit before flowers hoping they will train me in the art of opening up." And, just as I was opening up in sweet surrender while dancing like nobody was watching to the wicked and amazing beats of MC Yogi and DJ Drez, I stepped a little funny and, just like that, I turned my ankle over, spraining it pretty badly. I heard the crunch, felt the familiar snap of ligaments and tendons. You see, I'd done this before, to both ankles, though not for many years. My old reaction? Instant rage. Anger. But this time I just said to my dear Megan, "I sprained my ankle. I'll just watch from the edge for awhile." I wasn't attached to what my sprained ankle meant. It meant I couldn't really dance anymore. It meant I wouldn't be practicing asana for awhile, even though I had said aloud that very night that I was super excited to have decided to start attending inspired room at The Sattva School of Yoga. I simply thought to myself, "Oh. Maybe I am supposed to be still for awhile. I think I finally got the hint."

My ankle is still a little swollen and slightly discolored. I've had strong urges to go back to the studio and practice, ignoring what I know in my heart to be true. I'm not ready yet. I'm not healed. And I am the one responsible for my healing. Only I know how to soften and unravel the painful patterns in my body. And so, I have been practicing asana. At home. By myself. Listening to my body, to my breath, to the inner teacher. I have a home practice!! For real. One of my early introductions to yoga was at the University of Saskatchewan in a drama class. The Prof got us to do sun salutations most every class. At the end of the term I asked him if there were places to practice in Saskatoon. At that time, there were only maybe two places. But he also said this: "Yoga is something that you do by yourself every day. And then sometimes in a studio." I think he is right. You can practice every day in a studio too. But I think the real undoing, the real healing is done by yourself. With the additional support of the community and the teachers you come across.

My practice, as I gently apologize to my body and give it the love it has been deserving but not getting for the last 33 years, is simple. I turn on Singh Kaur's song "Mender of Hearts." I stand still and begin to notice my breath. And then, I move wherever that breath takes me. After I don't feel like moving anymore, I do kapalabhati then a combination of nadi shodhana and ujaiie with retention on the inhales and exhales (Srivatsa Ramaswami taught it to us at One Yoga in Saskatoon). Then, I meditate. During this practice, I often break down in tears. And I let them flow. Releasing. Opening. Surrendering. And learning to Love. Love even the pain for teaching me how to heal. And for teaching me to honour my own Self, my own heart. Remembering: "This above all, to thine own self be true." To be true to myself, I need to understand, no, overstand, who I am. And on the path to finding out who I am, there is much shattering to do. Transforming. Into what I have always been, and always will be.

Transformation

Batter me, shatter me

Three persons

or Four

God; Rhythm; Spirit; Life

Throw me to the floor

Crack me open with the lightning of Love

Light-ening, letting it in

Through the cracks.

Trusting. Knowing.

Knowing nothing

Can hurt me

Not really

Breaking, shattering, opening

A blast!

Vast...

Fast and violent

There's no time to wait

There is; No time.

Time. Time? Time!

What will become of me?

Having the courage to be free. 

To be Me.

Broken, shattered, explosive light.

Fright. It's all right.

Afraid of that Power.

The Power within.

Daring enough?

To begin. 

Aham Prema; I am Love; I love all the fluffy animals; Dear little Mousey (a reflection poem)

I began my day yesterday with Day 4 of Deepak and Oprah's 21 day meditation challenge. It's fun to have the guidance and to learn some new sanskrit mantras. Yesterday's centering thought was: "I am love." It was a beautiful meditation. Healing tears flowed from my eyes. Afterwards, I felt the deepest gratitude for the Earth and all that she brings. Love. For all.

I left my house later that day. On the path to school I noticed the trees bountifully springing forth fruit...I noticed, was aware of...well, everything. The interconnection of all life, and also death. And it broke me a little. I wrote the following in my journal:

The tree produces fruit.

I don't even know if it is edible.

Survival. What have we become?

A crab apple by my feet.

This tree, I know, is filled with fruit so sweet!

But they fall to the ground.

Giving. Giving. Giving.

Taken for granted. Waste and rot.

I walked and thought.

The fresh taste of from here fruit vibrant on my tongue,

"Can I pick them for you? I will bake you a pie."

Then, from the corner of my eye.

Tiny mousey, "Why did you have to die?"

"Wee tim'rous beastie."

Not an upturned earth this time.

You look so peaceful, as though asleep.

Lying on your side, no marks show me why.

Poisoned?

By this fucked up society.

You so resemble the tiny friend

Who skittered near my green felt bag

While he sat with me.

I miss him.

And you.

Let me gently move you.

Beneath the warm decaying leaves.

Back to the earth

From whence...

You came. We came. All came.

To stardust and of it too.

You. I weep for you. 

Dear little mousey.

Robbie Burns wrote a very famous poem. I recall it here, in my own. In his work, the mousey isn't dead. But the poet, the Ploughman worries that the mouse won't be able to build a new nest before winter. "Man's dominion." How long will we let it break "nature's social union?" Here it is:

To a Mouse By Robert Burns On Turning up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785 Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty,           Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee           Wi’ murd’ring pattle! I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion,           Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,           An’ fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave           ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,           An’ never miss ’t! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,           O’ foggage green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,           Baith snell an’ keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, An’ weary Winter comin fast, An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,           Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past           Out thro’ thy cell. That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,           But house or hald, To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,           An’ cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men           Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,           For promis’d joy! Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e’e,           On prospects drear! An’ forward tho’ I canna see,           I guess an’ fear!