Break Me Free, Finally

I am so in the mood to write something brilliant today.  I love that inspired feeling.  It lifts me up and out of hell long enough for me to catch my breath…(Oh, this is ironic.  I just got distracted on facebook for like fifteen minutes.  Hopefully I am all the brillianter for it…) Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying life is “hell”… and yet it is.  It is hell when we live our lives ruled by fear.  Which I am trying not to do… but it feels so ingrained in me.  I am so used to putting limits on myself, being “realistic”.  You’re probably thinking that that’s such an “adult” thing to do, being “realistic”.  We’ve all been taught that.  But listen, OUR BELIEFS ARE ONLY TRUE BECAUSE WE BELIEVE THEY ARE.  There is not some intrinsic law that says I can’t make hella bank doing what I love, which is writing.  That I must just squeak by doing whatever it is that I do, which I wish to no end that I could talk about… but it’s technically illegal.  So I guess I’ll just shut up about it.  Which sucks because I yearn to be a fully transparent human being… except for a few little select secrets, maybe, but just for the sheer pleasure of it.

Anyway, any liberated spiritual teachings will agree that the very stuff we are made of is unbounded creativity.  We are made from overflowing, unlimited supply.  The “outer world” as we perceive it is nothing more than a reflection of our minds, our beliefs, our self imposed limitations based on past experiences (ours and our ancestors).  These are very popular teachings these days.  Which makes me wonder… if we all have access to so much enlightenment, to so many expansive beliefs, then why the fuck do we struggle so hard?  I used to be so gun ho about practicing the bloody law of attraction and all that, and mostly it just felt like exhausting, fruitless work.  Why?  I have contemplated that question for an impressively long time.  From my vantage point in the universe, it is because my motivations are lacking the deep alignment with Spirit, with Self.  My ego keeps attaching its self to desires that it thinks will make it happy, but guess what?  It has no blasted clue about the nature of lasting happiness or peace.  The ego is constructed by the very mechanism that is perpetual dissatisfaction.  Scarcity.  The ego is upheld by the core belief that love is something outside our very Self.  Which, of course leads us to all kinds of manipulative reindeer games in order to GET LOVE from others, ceaselessly strive and achieve and pretend we are the image of the person that we have been conditioned to believe is worthy of a few meager but essential crumbs of love.

Raise your hand if you think these limiting beliefs, stifling thought forms are ridiculous…

Woops.  But wait?  Does that mean that I oughtn’t strive to make a solid living as a writer?  Now I’m on the brink of tears.  My vision is blurring because, WELCOME TO THE TANGLISH TRAP OF MY MIND.  I want to hold fast to this vision.  But at the same time I do not want to be bound by a false belief that when I am a well known writer, earning an abundant living doing what I love and serving as a source of awakening, freedom and inspiration for others, that I will suddenly be vastly different from what I am right now.  Nope.  I can be happy, peaceful and fulfilled right friggin now.  God, I just want to cry.  It all seems like it should be so simple.  How come it doesn’t feel simple?

I feel so vulnerable, sharing my tangles with you.  I keep thinking that I should shut up and just be poetic.  Then you’ll be more interested in what I have to say, and then I’ll be worthy of love and a good life.  These human mechanisms.  I was cruising along pretty nicely in my life for the last year… Doing sensual massage, being beaten to a holy pulp by the beloved, weighty planet, Saturn (I’m in my Saturn return) and having plenty of time left over to WRITE, work out, cook nourishing food and socialize a teensy bit.  Sweet.  But then I woke up one day and had absolutely zero interest in doing sensual massage.  For the first year it was awesome.  It was such an adventure into a hot, steaming slice of world that I would not otherwise have gotten to explore.  I was so curious about who these men were, who would indulge in such a service.  Honestly, I thought they’d be mostly losers and freaks.  Turns out they’re just like you and me.  They crave touch, excitement, intimacy… I want to discuss this topic at length in a later entry, but for now, suffice to say, that when you turn over a heavy stone made of calcified taboo, you might be surprised to find that underneath it, all you will find is people just like YOU, doing their best to lead happy, fulfilling lives.  SURPRISE!

Anyway, the desire to make my living this way has taken flight.  Really.   It was a majestic swan that landed in me as divine inspiration one day… swam around in the pool of my day to day life and then one day this creature of grace was gone, the pond left to rest, still and empty.  Now what, Athena?  I am trying to trust.  Something greater than myself drove me to explore this work.  And then that same something took it away.  And will that same something [PLEASE!!!] reveal my next adventure, my next mission?   I don’t want to be afraid.  I want to be guided by God.  I want to wholeheartedly believe in a God who loves me so fully.  A God who ceaselessly guides me and wishes more than anything to help me feel safe and loved, guided and provided for.  God?  Are you there?

This morning, I prayed for Grace to obliterate my habit of fear.  Fear.  It’s nothing but a frequently treaded rut in my mind.  But it’s a rut that I don’t feel I can afford right now.  I am fighting the tears again.  Why?  I guess just because I’m in public.  I’m in Mykael’s café again.  I need a change of scenery.  I wish I was in Paris or Hawaii.  Surely that would solve my probbies (a term of endearment for “problems”.  Doesn’t that make them seem so much more palatable, lovable?  Awe, my sweet little “probbies”…) Fuck.  Mykael just got here and when I saw him, I fell apart sobbing.  I am so fucking sick of the SURVIVAL conversation.  I don’t want to compromise my heart EVER again.  Is that what being a human being IS?  The demand on us to split ourselves into this prismatic multiplicity of shattered, false pretenses?  Sometimes it sure fucking feels like it.

Okay, now I am gonna write something poetic and pretty so that you’ll love me and I’ll feel justified to take up space in this deranged world.  But first, I must report that I did THREE PULL-UPS today!!!  Yeah!  Go me!

I will wait.

I will.

Fill me, please

with expectant stillness.

Mistress Love,

Mistress Auspiciousness,

let me be tickled

by your sacred kisses

Blown, Drifting

On the wind’s lips,

That I may remember

your ever-present,


Over-flowing presence.

Make me innocent.

Every new born day,

may I wait,

anticipate Grace’s descent,

as a child waits

in unwavering certainty

for Santa Clause on Christmas eve.

I will stay awake all night

just to sneak one single drunken, holy peak

At Her immense, iridescent,

Luminescent holy wings.

Grace, show me your face today!

I beg you,

Please!  Beat your wings and sweep me clean

of this exhausted, limping fear,

I want only to be inconceivably

Near to Love.

So near…

That it may obliterate

This frivolous, crippling fear.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Angela
    May 06, 2010 @ 22:54:35

    I love that you’re sharing! Thank you.


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