Mystery Versus Rationality

I was feeling stricken with a bad case of the “same-ole, same-olds”…Tired of blogging in bed.  So I sojourned to Pizzaiolo this morning, mistakenly thinking that it would provide a transfusion of inspiration into my guts and my choice of words.   Not even close.  I also ordered a decaf mocha, the likes of which has been WAY off my radar for the past month plus.  Even with decaf everything inside me is jittering like a wind chime in a hurricane.  But there is a delicious feeling at the bottom of my womb.  It’s warm and dangerously alive.  (I am going to start bleeding at any moment.)  I had to put on my headphones and listen to Jai Uttal because there is a little posse of rugrats here who are boiling over.  You know, jumping up and down, growling, stomping and acting like the freaks that we ALL ARE inside, but pretend we’re not because we think looking good will afford us the love and acceptance we incessantly thirst for.

What should I write about?  I need a hug.  I keep having this inclination to just ask “strangers” (God, that is such a silly term to describe someone that you don’t know.  “Stranger”.  What’s a better word, oh hallowed namer of things?  “Uncharted Holy Waters of Humanity”, “Undiscovered Fleshy Wonder”…) for hugs.  I mean REALLY, think about it.  Nobody should EVER starve for a hug, considering how many damn people there are on the planet.  Pizzaiolo is full of ‘em right now… and yet I have this concept that it is only acceptable to fling my arms open to one who I know shallow stories about.  This is blasphemous.  I challenge myself to hug at least TWO undiscovered fleshy wonders today.  What about YOU?  Are you in?  If I can do it, you can.  Just start with one… honestly, the revolution starts here.  Let’s create a world culture where no human starves for hugs!  (and not no stinkin’ PC, A-frame bologna, either.)

Me and my over stimulated wind chiming bones were feeling at a loss as far as what to write about.  So I texted RosyMoon (Why did I almost type RosyMonsoon?  I swear I did…) and Mykael.  This is interesting.  RosyMoon told me to write about “mystery vs. rationality”.  Mykael told me to write about what I thought 2012 was about.  Certainly this is God screaming at me from deep inside my very own ear… because I think twenty twelve could certainly be about mystery versus rationality!  Remember when I was all tingles and shrieks about Little Grandmother?  She said that We are moving from the paradigm of the mind, back into the heart… which is essentially mystery versus rationality, isn’t it?

And anyway, isn’t it obvious what twenty twelve is about, given how suddenly hungry for Truth everybody is?  It all started when The Power of Now swept the nation.  ‘Member when the bloody book was EVRYWHERE?  Oh, and of course the movie, “What The Bleep Do We Know”… and then, “The Secret”.  Duh, isn’t it obvious that everyone is looking for the lost and long forgotten Essential Self who is buried beneath all this egoic rubble, distractions of shallow ambitions and grandiose fever dreams of separation.  Everybody (Is that an exaggeration?  Well if it isn’t “everybody” yet, it will be eventually, because we are at the ninety-nine monkey mark and soon we’ll all pop like innocent corn kernels in scalding oil… like it or not.) is having an inner revolution, releasing themselves into the watery, ambiguous quest of Self discovery.  (Yuck.  My mouth tastes like the wreckage of coffee aftermath.)

Mystery versus rationality.  I am having a very intimate dance with that topic these days, come to think of it.  I have clearly gotten the call to go to Kauai.  Trust me.  I made the choice very organically, much like a pregnancy.  I had the idea, which blew into my consciousness like a sacred seed on a current of God’s very breath.  I welcomed it… and just let it nestle into the potent soils of my Self.  I loved it, listened to it and let it’s unrooted promise seduce me in quiet moments.  And the next thing I knew, it had exploded into a cool canopy of certainty and promise.  Its roots were drinking from my very own dark inner reaches.  And as of yesterday morning, I am the proud owner of a one way ticket to tropical paradise!

My mind climbs precarious walls, groping for a lucid picture of who and what I will be when I land with a soft, sumptuous thump on the Garden Island.  Will I be able to make money?  Will I write a book?  (This question gnaws at me incessantly.  I know am destined to write a book, but the task is daunting.  Given how much I write, I could have a book a mile long by now… but it comes down to narrowing my focus, choosing a topic and diving in!  Any ideas?  What book by Athena Grace LMNOP would quench your soul-thirst?  What book would leave you esoterically fat and sassy and better off than I found you???)  My mind climbs its walls in a laughably fruitless search for solid ground to stand on.  I try to tell this twist of a mind that if it wants solid ground, it certainly won’t find it on the walls.  But that’s minds for ya.  They think they are all cutting edge and rationally superior… but really, they are stuffed with dust and stiff feathers.  My mind is itching to know if I am “moving” to Kauai… or just going for an extended stay.  Will I throw down roots, or just gracefully skim along the glimmering, crystalline surface of this verdant, oceanic heaven?

I can’t answer these desperate questions posed by a mind threatened by the unknown.  I find that when I concentrate on the meditation that it is to *Lovingly* put one foot in front of the other, treading a path paved with gratitude, authenticity and kindness, (and of course, forgiving with every breath) that is when I feel the most sane and whole.  It is only fear’s panty-twisted importuning that would have me flail and clambor to micromanage my entire existence, start to finish and bolt it down before tragedy and chance can strike tsunami style.  It’s the dance metaphor all the way, baby!  I take a slinky, smiling step… and then the Mystery pulls me coyly close and twirls me till I’m almost dizzy and giddy, my dress maybe flying up and flashing a quick glimpse of my high fashion panties to the world at large.  And then I swivel my hips and the Mystery mirrors me.  We leap in unison.  I toss my head back and laugh.  Sometimes this dance is clumsy, and sometimes it is seamless as a master in action.  But always, it is Alive.  Always it is Blessed.  Always it is Breath.

Rationality versus Mystery.  Every day I try to pry myself free from the tight, vicious fist of needing to know.  I am.  I am.  I AM.  And then she breathed.  And then her breath was pressed effortlessly, expelled from the softly heaving chest who never ceases to Wonder.  Amen.

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. dan
    Aug 23, 2010 @ 12:25:56

    Here is an energetic hug!!! I am back and want to see you and HUG you! I believe in movemnets and this “hug everyone” is a necessary one. Now go write your book, and if you wanted you could do research and write your dissertation on benefits of hug therapy. But the bottem line is believe in love. Give and recieve. I love you Athena.


  2. souldipper
    Aug 23, 2010 @ 18:21:01

    Yes, Athena Grace. We, from a nation of touch deprived souls, can hug. Hugs all around, please Divine Source. And it starts with me – the very next person I encounter. I just know it’ll be God with skin on.

    Bravo. You have the one way ticket. Commitment. With freedom. I can hardly wait for the upcoming chapters. And PLEASE don’t stop doing “poems by donation only”. I would love reading about those experiences in a book. Yep. Everything I brag about you to my friends, they are wowed! And my friends don’t go around wowing without taste and discernment.


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