A Life Who Refuses To Be Broken And Tamed

I gave myself permission not to blog today… And now, at seven twenty nine pm, I am soft-landing on the page and just for the record, I couldn’t be happier!  I feel like I am at the airport, flinging myself into the WIDE open arms of my long-lost Beloved.  (An airport complete with droves yapping dogs…frown…)  Dear lord… right now, writing my blog feels like a feat on par with threading existence through the eye of a needle.  I have lived SO much today on so many levels.  The level of this clunky meat sack loafing about her haunted playground of dense, seemingly frozen matter, for one.  (Though Jesus as my witness (btw, my homeboy Jesus said he’d be my witness any time of the day or night for the rest of slobbering, reckless time and space!), let me profess that in truth it is anything but frozen.  Matter dances its rapturous ass off, even when it seems to be standing still.)  Then levels such as thoughts, feelings, impressions, hopes, fears, inclinations, various dimensions…

Athena Grace, reel yourself in sweetie.  Sorry folks, I think I ate too much fruit for dinner and how I am floating seven feet above the ground.  Not only did I eat too much fruit, but I did an evening asana practice and it felt SO good.  Like you know in the Wizard of OZ, how the Tin Man is such an eager beaver to get lubed up with his oil can?  Well I got LUBED up just now!  I have been practicing in the morning… and the difference between making sacred, breath infused, offertory shapes fresh out of bed versus in the waning wake of activity and languidly setting suns is EPIC.  My body felt SO much more receptive and grateful and sensually fulfilled to move this evening.  I am hooked.  I feel like a unicorn in heat now.  I swear.  A unicorn in heat who fancies to go a-leaping over moons and planets.  A unicorn in heat who might just graze away on some less than expendable constellations.

God, at the rate I’m going, I might not even get to tell you ANYthing about my day.  My mind seems to have a mind of its own tonight.  Oh well… At least my heart’s in the right place… where EVER it is… Is it that thing relentlessly thumping in my chest?  Or is my heart actually spattered insouciantly about every pore of Creation?

Here’s what I want to talk with you about tonight:  Deprogramming.  A dangerous word.  As Kauai sinks into my bones and guts and soul crevices, it is getting more difficult and less appetizing to operate habitually or out of a need to prove myself to society, to BE “somebody”… or in reaction to fear of the unknown or fear of losing control.  Kauai is gently beckoning me to unravel and live from an unprecedented, streaming vitality.  So far, I have been sticking a big toe and then a shy foot into this lucid pool of vivacious, authentic existence. (You might find that hard to believe… given that I’m farther out than most you know…but trust me… I still find myself shoving me into unflattering holes… and I am no square peg, mind you.) And Life is plenty satisfied with my gradual immersion.  In God’s time, it don’t make no nevermind.

I met this fearless bucking bronco of a young woman the other day.  Her eyes must be what inspired the Beetles lyric, “the girl with kalidascope eyes”.  Literally.  She must be a time traveler.  She plays the harp and writes songs.  Her hair is a wild, belligerent yet sophisticated mane.  She told me she swam to Kalalau (the north shore) and hunted goats with a bow and arrow once, just because she could.  I believe her.  She says that every day is Christmas.  I agree.  Every day on Kauai IS Christmas.  And I must have been a *very* good girl… because Santa Clause is spoiling me ROTTEN.

Today I sprung out of bed and headed straight for Hanalei.  Lugging my precious typewriter.  I thumbed a ride with a native Hawaiian man who talked my ear off the whole time.  He sure had a bitter streak in him.  But also a lion’s heart.  The Course in Miracles lesson today was an invitation to recognize all others as the Christ though… so… I guess he was the arugala of the Jesus Salad Mix. (Godblessim)  At the beach, I was greeted by a faint rainbow, stretching between the ocean and sky.  It grew brighter and brighter as I fell in love with it.  This is why God invented the word AWE.  And enchantment.  Then, my swim was why God invented the word GLORY (RosyMoon’s favorite word!)  Whoa!  I just looked up the word Glory on dictionary dot com, and WONDER WOMAN, are there some succulent definitions of this heaven-sexy word!  (“Heaven-sexy” is a special, customized brand of sexiness.  A very clean, cutting edge, finely distilled sexy.  Think wet, glistening angels in stiletto heals, sipping virgin cocktails!)

A couple of my favorite definitions=

*resplendent beauty or magnificence

*a state of great splendor, magnificence or prosperity

*the splendor and bliss of heaven

*adoring praise or worshipful thanksgiving

*a ring, circle or surrounding radiance of light represented around the head or whole figure of a sacred person, as Christ or a saint; a halo, nimbus, or aureole

See?!

I sold one poem today.   To a particularly luminous family… I was drawn to them immediately.  (Sometimes it happens that way… I know who is going to approach me before they do.) It was a youngish (older than me) couple with a three year old daughter and a baby son, plus hip, soulful grandma and grandpa.  I swear~ I didn’t know who of them to love best.  They all had so much beauty, depth and richness.  Heck, Athena, guess you might as well throw caution you know where and love ‘em all!  They asked for a poem about the three year old, Kylie… she has been struggling with the recent arrival of her brother and acting out as a result.  And mom and dad are doing their best to guide and love her through it… though they seemed to be getting a strenuous work-out in that department.  (In retrospect, I wish I had connected them with my dear friend Shelly.  She is my living encyclopedia for navigating the vast and fragile world of honoring, guiding and relating with children.  Shelly’s website is www.awakeparent.com Anyone who wishes to drink from the font of wisdom when it comes to parenting, reach for Shelly.  She’s a wealth of experience, passion and education.)

After I read them the poem, they tried to marry me off to their artist/writer son who lives back in Oakland.  They said he’s ready for “the real thing”, and for a family.  Too bad I’m not, because I swear to the wine sloshing Holy Grail, I would be delighted to have this delicious clan for in-laws!  (and I told them so!)  Since that divine blessing of an interaction, I have been grappling with the overt schism inside me between the urge to lead a *semi*normal life, and the whisperish vision singing to me from riveting, spooky, seductive partial darkness… of a life so completely OTHER than marriage, family, children, convention.  Yes, I’m talking riding unicorns in heat bareback across bucking, belly laughing galaxies.  I find myself lamenting that I know too much… wishing that I could just fall back asleep and wake up in the bland, dry-toast dream of ripe, blushing brides all dressed in white, riding toward sunset castles behind strapping, fine princes who have made them sturdy, eternal promises of security, comfort and endless pleasure.

People, bear witness when I lament that right inside me, that sweeter than marshmallow crème Disney vision dies HARD!  So hard.  But hey, at LEAST every day is Christmas… Not such a shabby consolation prize for a life who refuses  to be broken and tamed…

Amen.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. souldipper
    Sep 26, 2010 @ 12:08:37

    I can only whinny today. Thanks, my spirit sister.

    Reply

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