For the LOVE of Words

When push comes to shove and shove comes to knuckle sandwich and knuckle sandwich comes to a gruesome strangling affair by a seven mile long snake with prism skin… Well… I don’t know what then. But I know that now I am here on the page to sooth myself. I have not slept well in weeks. I think this happens when my spirit is integrating a lot of new information and my poor, dense physical body, bound by time and space struggles to keep up. My spirit is a hardball playing, dragon slaying, fire spraying, business meaning machine. What’s a girl to do? Except step unabashedly onto the page and make strangely textured love to her own insides, letting her word-dripping imagination take her for a ride. So today I dedicate this blog to words that quench me, pleasure me, sooth and amuse me. That said I am suddenly burning to tell you that I sampled a new church last Sunday. I have no interest in recounting the experience, except for one crucial sliver. This was the day following Mykael’s antithesis of a lucrative art show, so we were both feeling ground down by fear in spite of ourselves. We had some kind of abrasive, unsavory exchange in the car before entering the disheveled though spirit saturated sanctuary. A handsome black man with the most soulfully luminous eyes I’ve ever seen in my entire life greeted me. He asked me how I was doing. I said something like not so good, which was all it took to open the flood gates and then in less than the space between sacred syllables, I came hopelessly undone. His eyes bled compassion all over me and he took me in his arms. He spoke in a soft loving voice and told me to let it out. I heaved in waves of surprise attack sobs. He just kept holding me and speaking soft words of reassurance into my ear. I am astounded by the beauty and generosity of his anonymous, unconditional heart. I wish I could arrange a string of words that could come somewhere near the miraculousness of the light that poured from him. I’m gonna try, because you only live once, and what else would I be doing with this razor sharp, explicit holy moment of my existence? Really… The recipe for this stranger’s eyes… in a sky-sized bowl, mix the following ingredients thoroughly~ the soft purrs of an ecstatic cat, the song from a large, deep, resonant wind chime stirred by a warm, lazy tropical breeze, the soul-shivering first kiss shared with one who enchants the pants off you, the feeling of being entirely, rapturously held in the armless embrace of warm, lucid blue tropical water, a stirring piano sonata played in complete darkness and the thick, buttery scent of croissants baking at sunrise. Does that give you some idea of the soulful beauty he poured on tearful me? In a recent-ish blog, I explored the true meaning of Grace. With the help of my readers, we came up with some bitchin’ definitions… but really, it was Grace that splashed from his eyes. It was Grace’s timeless, unconditional generosity that held me while I cried on his shoulder. It was Grace whose tears watered this thirsty desert of human suffering. Grace. She is the space between expectation-stained dreams. Grace. She is the breath that streams through me and you on nights wrapped in yearning and days splayed wide with gaiety and sweetness. Life is like surfing, isn’t it? All these waves of energy… and we must ride them. Skillfully or not, it’s up to each of us. I had a yogurt drink this morning. I blended organic low fat plain yogurt with fresh strawberries, stevia and a generous sprinkle of maca. Why am I telling you this? Because I want to. Because I LOVE sweet, creamy drinks. I love feeling them fill my mouth. I guess it takes me back to being breast fed. It is such primal, soothing pleasure. Moments spent sipping sweet creaminess are some of the most peaceful, profound and complete moments I have ever met. I imagine that when I finally remember God again once and for all, it will be like imbibing in the SWEETEST, CREAMIEST drink in all of creation multiplied infinity times by its own profound deliciousness. Fuck that’s gonna be so awesome! I can’t wait. But I’ll have to… because I haven’t yet been successful in releasing from my fear-stricken, ego-tense rollercoaster riding, ceaseless streaming spew of thoughts. I will keep knocking… and like Rumi says, when I finally open the door, I will realize I have been knocking from the inside this whole ridiculous timeless time. THE JOKE IS ON ME! Shrug. I guess all I can do is LOVE and forgive, love and forgive, love and forgive love and forgive. And BREATHE. Amen.

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3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. dan
    Jul 06, 2010 @ 18:03:38

    Love and forgive!!
    Live for love and live forgiveness.

    Be well my Athena.

    Love always
    D

    Reply

  2. cathryn marshall
    Jul 06, 2010 @ 19:30:33

    Wow what a post! Yes, the combination is Love and forgive. The vibration of those words is of the highest consciousness.

    Sending wishes for grace and all good things.

    Cathy

    Reply

  3. spirit2go
    Jul 06, 2010 @ 20:59:33

    oH Oh OH

    What a kind heart you met at that church. I imagined that he was like that large, bald light-skinned guy on the old commercial (for coffee, or sprite?) don’t know. With the lazy, smiling island patois kind of voice that lulls you into his arms. You were carrying your feelings right on your sleeve, weren’t you? The first kind words of welcome just did you in. That’s good. Sounds as though he is a ‘natural’ and they put him at the door just for that reason.
    I like that God is like a sweet, creamy drink!

    Reply

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