High and Wild

There is a parade of wild animal sounds welling up inside me much like a gigantic uncried tear on the verge of exploding from a dead bolted tear duct.   But please don’t misinterpret… I am not addressing sorrow via my internal jungle song.  No… it’s one of those wilderness-wrought days.  I’m not quite sure why.  That’s a dorky thing to say… The more I live, the more the question “why” becomes obsolete.  But can you help me?  I LIKE the way I feel… and I want to duplicate it.  And yes, I have an addictive personality.  But thankfully God also bestowed upon me the appropriate figurative weaponry to combat this slippery compulsion.

 

My wizard friend, Jack, whom I must confess I openly adore, loaned me his copy of The Science of Mind!  That’s Ernest Holmse’s book, which is the cornerstone of the Church of Religious Science.  I declare this to be overtly bitchin, since I oft ache about being so far from my beloved church.  Now, thanks to Jack Almighty, I have a sunrise church built for one in my bed every morning!!!!  White, billowing curtains, a chorus of haphazard cock squabble, a tangle of shrill mina bird voices, a steaming mug of sweet, creamy yerba matte and another steaming mug of hot water with lime, a splayed open notebook, eagerly thrusting her orderly, lined emptiness up to meet my suckling waves of inspiration.  Religion has extrapolated such theatrical, ostentatious yet stale portraits of heaven… but new born morning is without a doubt one of my fave-rave faces of this utmost holiness.

 

This morning, the words on the page were so tasty, not only did I devour them, but I licked the actual page clean!!!  Literally.  And now these potent words of Truth with a capital T are lovingly stuck to my boney ribs.

 

God.  What’s up with today?  I’ve been diving pretty deep into A Course in Miracles… and one of the main pillars of the teachings state that personal agendas are hollow, obsolete shells devoid of the warm, living body of true salvation… that the only *real* salvation comes from surrendering into the peace of God in which we are already always steeping but we mostly don’t realize it, because our minds are crusted over with the thick, scabby residues of the past.  Hence the invitation to forgive and forgive and forgive some more.  Hence the invitation to quit your day job and take up the holy pickaxe of forgiveness and hack away until time ceases once and for all and we are revealed as the light of the world!

 

I am so excited about the day when this happens!   And too, I am excited about all the days before this happens.  Life is a riveting treasure hunt… and we are each guaranteed to reach the X and unearth the sacred booty!  But ahem… please allow me to backpedal about a paragraph… I posed the question, what’s up with today?  You see, I have been trying to come to terms with this idea of fully surrendering my agendas and splaying myself wide open to the moment.  Making myself fully available to that which God lovingly slops onto my plate.

 

But then… how will I ever get any writing done?!?!?!?!  Must I relinquish my attachment to being a writer?  Ha!  Because that’s not gonna happen any time soon.  I love writing way too much.  But if I’m always haphazardly consumed with the relentless and noble practice of being here now… when will I have time to write.  In my guts, I know God wants me to write… I know it.  But I haven’t quite come to terms with constructing a hospitable belief system to house both this holy ambition AND this savory state of surrendered grace.  But I’m pretty sure that I’ll get it one of these holy instants… I’ve got my posse of angels working on it even now, as I plunk out this hit parade strand of clunky soundless sounds… well, they would be sounds if you read it out loud… but if you hear it in your head, they are soundless.  Or are they?  Do thoughts make sound?  Possibly… just sounds that your naked ears can’t hear.

 

I thumbed a ride into Hanalei this morning.  Hot damn was I pleased when a shiny, powder blue Cadillac rolled up to the side of the road.  Reggie, an oldish black man dressed in cover-alls and a long sleeved shirt was my Sunday morning pilot.

 

Goddess Almighty!  Come to think of it, this blog is my the perfect practice grounds for letting go of agenda.  Sometimes I have a very clear idea about where I’m gonna drive you… I hop behind the wheel of my pimped out tour bus, thinking that just because I’m in the driver’s seat that I know where we’re going… but then… the road rolls out like a slowly unfurling red sea of carpet and even I am surprised by the vistas that pour forth.

 

I meant to tell you about Reggie, the Cadillac driving rasta man natural foods chef who, once we were cruising along casually announced that he was gonna stop and deliver some mangoes to friends in Princeville… and then proceeded to make THREE stops… The first being to the home of a Chinese woman whose light shot like a shooting star, blazing through broad day light, and her plump, genuine twenty two year old daughter whose grounded maturity was ageless.  Yes, this Chinese woman is emblazoned in my mind.  Her name was Theresa.

 

But then Coldplay is currently playing on my Pandora station… and whenever I hear Coldplay, I think about the night that Mykael went out for beers with his buddy Austin… and Austin got pretty wasted… and then they walked the labyrinth while Austin unabashedly belted out the song Yellow by Coldplay.  I think he was wading through some intense relationship challenge at the time… When Mykael recounted this scene to me for some reason it really hit my tickle spot!  I think because Austin is usually a pretty mellow, reserved guy.  (After the labyrinth, they rode bikes to Austin’s house, where he proceeded to puke his guts out on the porch!)

 

Sorry.  I know that has nothing to do with anything.  I have a feeling it could be a severe case of “you had to be there”… but sometimes it’s inevitable that a “you had to be there” will jump out and fling its self in front of you like a leprechaun on acid.

 

And speaking of leprechauns on acid, the beautiful young man who served as my charioteer on the second leg of my journey to the northern most tip of the North shore, Haena (I call it “Laughing Haena”) gifted me with three green, dancing sprites as we parted ways!  AND as if that’s not generous enough… he ALSO gave me an oceanic mother goddess who will embrace and guide me.  I am dead serious.  And even deader and seriouser when I tell you that I BELIVE HIM.  Though his eyes were doey brown, they bled with light cooler and sweeter than melt in your mouth moons!  Talk about a light warrior!  He told me that his inner voice told him to pick up the hitchhiker before he even saw me… This is how he lives his life.  Just letting life unfold one single nectarous drip at a time.  Just like A Course in Miracles is trying to coax this little agendalicious cookie named Athena Grace to do.

 

This blog is my brain on drugs.  Figurative drugs, naturally.  This blog is my brain trying to take the line test while I’m juggling swords and cups and pentacles.  Beware and enter at your own risk.  Ooops, I guess it’s better to give that advice at the beginning.  Grin.

 

Amen.

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3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. souldipper
    Oct 18, 2010 @ 15:07:12

    Athena Grace! Here’s the picture:

    I just finished reading this enchanting post – not a bit scary for this Warrior Woman. I wondered what I wanted to say besides some comment about fearlessness while wandering in the Light of All There Is (which, of course, includes Athena Grace’s mind).

    Oh, put the kettle on and think about it, I sez. Oh, the mailman just left. Oh, fresh air is good. Clomp, clomp, clomp to the mail boxes. Wow! a parcel! With hearts on it. From…OMG – Hawaii. The little sticker for customs says under ‘description’ – “Scarf I Knitted!” On the right, under ‘value’ – “Priceless”

    Now every reader is going to be upset. Inside the parcel, I found a scarf “knitted” by herself truly. Let me describe it:
    Soft
    Multi coloured but lots of turquoise, lime, green, grey – different yarns, some black with silver sparkles. A splash of burgundy.
    Smells like hand lotion, essential oils, rose petals, ylang ylang (I think) and some luxurious hair product.
    Four feet long and 9 ” wide.

    Athena, I heard your voice on the radio and now I know the aroma you live with. Pretty soon, besides being authentic, you are going to be LIVE!

    Thank you so much for this incredible gift. I am in awe.

    And now, the card. That she made. Well, the art work…I just may have to scan it and share it on my blog. I think that is a good idea. But you know what, people? She “knitted” this mostly when she was sitting in church, “longing for the Holy One.”

    If we aren’t two peeps in a pew! Preposterous!

    I love you, Athena Grace, Poetess, Loveress of the Beloved, Gifted and Gift Giving Friend. Nema!

    Reply

    • Athena Grace
      Oct 18, 2010 @ 18:44:10

      Ahhhhh, PHEW (two peas in a phew) 😉
      I was afraid it had gotten lost in the mail…
      but I thought it would be impossible that God allowed that to happen!
      I wish you knew the song that my heart sang as I read your comment!
      It was high quality ecstasy.
      Pure revelation!
      SO GLAD you received.
      Just in time for winter… right?!!
      That’s just a scratch on the surface of my love and gratitude for You.
      !!!!!!LOVE!!!!!!,
      Athena Grace

      Reply

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