Shiva And Shakti Are Still A’Dancin’!

It’s so quiet and slow in me today.  My mind feels soft and fuzzy like a multifaceted chalk pastel drawing done in shy colors all lovingly smeared together in a visual dance that incites whispers from all who look upon it.  I thought maybe this meant that I oughtn’t write… because no topics or feelings were particularly boring holes in my consciousness, bent on extending through space and landing soft (or not so soft) inside the cool meanderings of your own slice of God’s mind.

I like this feeling.  I suppose it could be construed as tired… but it’s not the all too familiar, debilitating exhaustion that has haunted me for so long.  No.  It’s a tired that could easily be interpreted as a slow flowing river of peace.  It’s four twelve pm, and the afternoon is a perfect reflection of my inner state.  Some sun, some clouds and a breeze breathes the bounteous, lush plant life into a soothing, symphonic motion.  I feel like a baby being rocked in mother’s arms.

I guess I’m still in a mild strain of shock about how much I love my own company.  Why is it so much easier to bleed with incessant contentment here on Kauai.  Resonance.  When I lived this slow paced existence in Oakland, I always felt plagued by fundamental, screeching discord.  But here… my rhythm is reflected back to me in the swaying palm trees, the ocean’s rocking motion, the clouds meandering like transient angels about their vibrant, blue pastures.

Resting into this resonance, I feel a call to further release myself from the deep-seated habit to live from my mind.  This mind so habituated to running the show, keeping everything under control, familiar, safe.  I am starting to conceive of a life that moves with the very rhythms of my body, which in turn moves with the very rhythms of the earth and the moon, the intricate tapestry of heavenly bodies and God’s own Breath.  I’m not quite sure how to do this… Because I also crave structure in my life.  I suppose this new inquiry is a spin-off of my old faithful, familiar inquiry of effort and grace.  The beloved, eternal dance between the feminine and the masculine forces of the universe.  God forbid that I become all flow and no boundaries.  No thanks!  Imagine a river with no banks… suddenly she is reduced to an extended swampy mud puddle.  (I suppose you could imagine banks with no river, too… but the river carves the banks… so I suppose it would just be a lifeless, arid span of hardened dirt.)  Nope, gotta have both the river and the banks, thank you very much, the structure AND the flow.  I am redefining that relationship inside me right now, which looks like diving deeper into an acknowledgement of my body’s rich, innate wisdom.  This requires listening and surrender.

And while we’re on the topic of the eternal, sensuous samba of Shiva and Shakti… Brad wandered into the kitchen this morning, resembling a spooked deer.  I asked him what was up, as I searched for non-linguistic signs in the rigid light filtering from his cool blue eyes.  He said he was feeling overwhelmed by his relationship… Conflicted as to whether to go camping with his sweetheart this weekend, or stay home and “handle shit”.  God, is it sexy when men handle shit!  …Unless of course it is MY man and him handling shit means that I get less of his attention and nutritive energy, of course.  Which is what he conveyed is happening for him and his girlfriend these days.  His relational testimony reeked of this ancient and impersonal dance between consciousness and bliss, “chit and ananda”, space and form.

From the outside, it was obvious to me that he wanted/needed to stay home and attend to matters of his own life, heart and soul, without getting consumed in the blur of undifferentiated selfhood that romantic love and merging can incite.  I gathered that the conflict arose because his leading lady wanted more from him.  More attention, more merging, more intoxicating feelings and quintessential safety and belonging… MORE!!!!! MORE!!!! MORE!!!!

Honestly, I have no idea if Brad’s “special friend” is really embodying that extreme stance… at this point I am existing in a combination of projection, based on my own experience and extrapolation, based on Brad’s reactive state.  Listen, I basically strangled my own relationship by getting swept away in this unhealthy rendition of the Dance.

The wounded feminine never feels full, no matter how much she is fed.  Yet it feels like crack when her man feeds her… in my relationships, I have experienced myself to be mostly insatiable… except for those sweet, all too brief moments of satiation.  I physically ached when Mykael became entirely absorbed in his art (which was a regular occurrence after he came down from the initial intoxication of our potent communion).  I could not feel his love for me in those arduously extensive moments.  Brad too is an artist.  An artist who has a track record of manifesting energetically consuming relationships in order to *conveniently* avoid facing his “Maker”, stepping fully glorious into his WILD, creatively ignited Self.

Thank you, God for showing me this reflection.  Since I am not emotionally, sexually, spiritually “hooked” into Brad, I can see his need, his duty, his overt call to integrity of Self so clearly.  Like, DUH, of course he needs to put himself and his Divine expression first and foremost!  With Mykael, that clarity was skewed by my own wounding, lack of self development and blind need.  Tangly.  Relationships are tangly.  I came away from the witness bearing of Brad’s conundrum wondering if it is even possible to simultaneously exist in the Nirvana of creative fulfillment and the heavenly state of soul communion and partnership.

“YES!” I hear you shouting to me, “Of Course it IS, Athena!!!”  I am sure it IS… but how to create that, exist gracefully in it, be fluid and fluent in that age-old, galactic dance… I don’t know.  Hopefully this year (or more) of being single will teach me much.  Hopefully I will fashion a very comfortable, hospitable and essential dwelling inside myself… and as a result, my engagement in relationship will be automatically redefined as I redefine.

And yet… I feel like something more universal is at play here.  It extends far beyond “Athena Grace” and “Mykael” and “Brad”.  In a recent blog, I mentioned that everyone I know is breaking up these days… Breaking up and BREAKING THROUGH in to a new paradigm, a new experience of Self.  And most relationships are too wrought with old habits, insecurities, fears, attachments, illusions… to be able to accommodate this rip-tide of rapid transformation.  We need to revamp the timeless dance.  How do we as women and men relate, co-create, play and love one another at this stage in the Game?  Remains to be seen… All I know is that we are currently immersed in the awkward, unwieldy in between place right now… and it is uncomfortable, confusing and crazy-making.  Unless we remember to LAUGH at ourselves and not take any of it personally.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. souldipper
    Sep 24, 2010 @ 21:20:36

    When we are up to our creative ears in passion for our art, it is very difficult to ‘come to’ enough to think about how to share time and self. My friend Robert and I will have dinner tomorrow after I attend a Memorial. I realize it has been some time since I have been away from my ‘center’ for a large chunk of time.

    Interesting question, Athena Grace. How are we handling the juggle job of sharing ourselves?


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