Dreaming of Orcas in Winter

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Pushing off the shore… moving into the vast expanse of my mind, heart, Life.  I tingle.  I want to be extraordinary.  And in an instant, this desire turns to pressure and collapses in on itself.  Instead I’ll just be me.  Honest.  Curious.  Optimistic.  Ever enchanted by the weird, wild ordinariness of being a human being in a world of endlessly creative, disguised divinity.

That’s the macro.  The climate of my inner life on this deep, dark, quiet morning.  I just stopped to pick a booger.  It was sticky and I rolled it into a little ball and flicked it across my living room.  It took a few tries to launch it.  I’m embarrassed to admit that.  But the naked truth is that I am a booger picker, and you might as well know.  That’s the micro.

My Ma has cancer.  That’s the burning bush I beat around in my last blog.  Still waiting for the said bush to speak Gospel to me.  But pretty sure it will.  In the mean time, I’ve had two and a half weeks to digest this information.  And trust me, I’ve been all over the map.  I think my favorite emotion has been self-pity.  Yes, I’m embarrassed to admit that too… since SHE is the one suffering.  But that’s the bizarre thing about “otherness”… someone right beside you can be undone in pain, and you really have no idea… allured instead by the glow of my own mediocre struggle.  Frown.

My Ma says she’s not “in pain”, per se… just exquisitely uncomfortable.  Mostly exhausted, and worst of all ITCHY.  Desperate to climb out of her skin.  I witness her experience from the outside, and it’s like watching her through a thick pane of glass.  My dad used to work at the MGM casino in Reno.  They kept a doped-up male lion on the family entertainment floor, and you could pay to get your photo taken with this poor, sleepy beast.  At five years old, I found this thrilling and we did.  The “secret” was a thick pane of glass between us and the Mighty One, which wasn’t perceptible in the photograph.  We had to wait a few excruciating DAYS for the photo to be processed… which pressed me into the grill of searing anticipation.  I died a few times waiting.  And then, gotta love ole Bart Horwitz (my dad)… He was supposed to go downstairs on a break and collect the picture… but he never did.  Over time, my desire for the fruit of this frivolous, exploitive adventure shriveled and returned to sacred nothing.  I learned early not to “hold my breath” when it came to my dad’s flimsy word.

Hence the frivolous origin of my metaphor of thick glass between “one” and untouchable dimensions of “otherness”.  I find it tragic.  Because I’ve been on both sides of the glass:  the one being ripped apart by loneliness, despair, some unbearable shade of pain…. Hoping to find relief in being witnessed… to no avail… And the one blinking, helpless as She Who Gave Me Life, tears miserably at her own flesh.  Oh the kaleidoscopic Mysteries of Existence….

You might not give a hoot about astrology… but I do.  And since this IS Athena Graceland, after all, I’ll report that Saturn’s round, dimpled ass is sitting on my gently beaming moon right now, which creates a mood of solitary struggle.  The sort of suffocating, internal atmosphere that grinds one down to beautiful, shimmering dust.  In the name of Ultimate Revelation.  It’s *not* glamorous.  But totally necessary.  And if you don’t want to speak in cosmically persuaded tongue, that’s cool.  Let’s just say that as far as seasons of Life go, it’s a cold, dark winter over here.

But the beauty of living out such a grueling season, is that there are contrast-carving days such as yesterday, which bloom as bright, delicious hints of spring.  By some unsayable Grace, the leaden weight in my heart lifts… I unhinge from the need for my Life to be anything other than it IS.  This is fresh pressed ecstasy.  I was at peace with my Ma’s fate, whatever it may be.  Peel back the layer of clutching at permanence, and being so close to the possibility of death is exciting.  It clarifies and vivifies Life.  It seduces forth more textures of whispering Divinity, laced in Everything.  I can feel the holy, smiling warmth of “The Other Side”, as my Ma likes to refer to that easier dimension of Heaven, where Light is not tethered to such laughable density.

Gosh, I sure can get lost in the endless dimensions of my mind!  I was telling you about the ease of yesterday.  I did an hour of paid cleaning at my Ma’s group house while Serena napped in the car.  I felt free.  Life was reduced to the simplicity of scrubbing a filmy shower with the green, abrasive side of a sponge and homemade vinegar-water with tea tree and lavender oils.  My large hands squeezed into small, orange rubber gloves.  When I finished, I laid on my back on the gravely driveway as Serena continued to snooze, texting with Ed… deciding on which day he would visit.  We agreed on Moonday.  The day after Christmas.  I felt excitement swell inside.  Danger.  Like looking into the eyes of a tiger, this fragile feeling could so easily snap in the jaws of devastating disappointment.  But like the archetypal Fool, I softened, letting it all be, as I danced after the rose at the cliff’s edge.  I love Ed and I want to spend time with him.  I relinquished the urge to be in control of our relationship and “the future”.  (Which I spend a lot of time and energy attempting to manipulate in hopes of “getting comfortable” and feeling “okay”.)

Then a sliver honda crunched the gravel driveway and spit my Ma out, fresh from another doctor appointment, and less nine vials of blood.  She was high on pumpkin spice latte, which made her behave like her former self!  Full of energy and good humor.  (These days, she mostly exists in a dull state of exhaustion, molded to the shape of her beige recliner, dispensing frequent apologies for her wilted state.)  I lapped up every precious second we were blessed to share.

Lots of other stuff happened too.  (Didn’t the literary precision of that last sentence bring you to your beautiful knees?!?!)  All profoundly ordinary, yet glistening with a sassy hint of revealed divinity.  This is what happens after death.  Suddenly there is new space for Truth to beam through the veil.  No doubt this is what Leonard Cohen meant when he sang, “There’s a crack in everything.  That’s how the Light gets in.”   Death upon sweet death cracks apart the ego’s defenses to the blazing Reality of Light.  Slowly, over time, in my case…and perhaps sometimes all at once.  (Yikes!)

I don’t want to deluge you in the mundane details of my awesome existence, but I can’t skip the part where Serena and I drove to the cow dairy to procure a half gallon of raw milk for my Ma… we left the car running, intending to be quick.  Three calves rested in a bed of hay, adjacent to the milk room.  The smallest one, a baby bull, stood up, spindly hind legs first, and came to the fence to say hi.  He let me scratch his neck!  Then a bigger girl came over and licked my hand with her thick, coarse tongue.  My heart turned melty as they gazed at us with their radiant, wide, brown moon eyes.  I thought I’d never wash my barnyard stained hands.

I don’t know if I’ll feel as right and free today.  Serena woke too many times last night.  Then I awoke at almost four am from a dream of orcas.  It was nighttime.  I rode a ferry and they danced elegantly in the dark water alongside the boat.  I called out to them, “I LOVE YOU!!!!”  When our boat docked, they approached and let me pet them.  I was cautious at first, in their mighty presence.  Then I relaxed into trust.  This dream exploded my crown open and flooded me with infinity and stars and a feeling of pulsing awe.

I am ready for whatever shades of Grace today bestows.

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Rising in LOVE

Finally, I have remembered why we’re here!!!  Good lord, that *seemed* to take FOREVER…  But rumor has it, time is a big, fat illusion, so who who cares?  And what better do I have to do ANYWAY, than fumble my way into the heart of Truth?

Do YOU remember why we are here???

We are here to bring heaven to earth!!!  And if that sounds to airy-fairy for you, then a more Hemingway-simple way to say it, is that we are here to awaken as love.  And when we awaken as love, EVERYONE ELSE DOES TOO.  Because everyone IS you.  I’m serious.  Light heartedly serious.  It’s not just spiritualized wishful thinking.  I’ll even bet you my first born on this!!  And if you know me at all, you KNOW the world that she means to me…

It’s been a month since I touched down in the enchanted garden of Graceland… and good goddamn, it’s been the single most powerful month of my entire life.  In my last entry, I was feeling all battered and bruised because the gap between what I wanted and what I had seemed so irreconcilable and unsavory.  But today, I am living surrender.  Today I know that life IS God.  And God is Love.  Hence there’s absolutely no reason to rage against the machine of supreme intelligence that cradles me to it’s bosom of infinite, ever-expanding, creative form!

This awakening is infusing every area of my life with a soft wash of gratitude and wonder, so I could really use any facet of my life as an entry point to shed  tangible illumination on this subject of blessed transformation.  But since Relationship is really my favorite subject, I’ll start there.  Because you’ve been with me on this whole ridiculous twist of a ride with Dear Edward.

One of my fave yoga teachers, Pedro Franco prefers to use the term “break through”, over the stale, worn-out term, “break-up”.  When he first shared that, I didn’t quite get it.  It just sounded like fluffy, new-age semantics.  But Ed and I have “broken through” twice in the past few “rounds” (think boxing… we are definitely two noble, bloodied, heavy-weight champs).  The first time was after I asked him for a time commitment to when he’d be free from his marriage and he said when his little genius-angel-son graduates from high school.  TWO YEARS.  This instantly sent my heart spelunking through the depths of hell.  I sobbed for at least an hour straight, from the bottom of my guts, and gave him back his grandma’s ring.  In retrospect, I’m sure I was exorcising demons from the collective unconscious, on behalf of Humanity.

The second time was after I rediscovered the distinction of “entanglements” versus real, pure intimacy between two whole people.  Entanglements are the result of two people who are yet unwilling to love themselves fully and completely, instead coming together and desperately manipulating the other to give them what they are unwilling to give themselves.  Which, of course is impossible.  I realized that what we were participating in was indeed an entanglement, and I had some WORK to do in my own precious heart, before I was ready to get all up in another person’s.  Makes a cornucopia of sense, right?!

The miracle, is that on both occasions, Ed felt through the shards of soul pain that surfaced and purged, and remained standing, brighter and stronger than ever before in the open sky of unconditional love and rarefied willingness.  He always does.  And this makes him the supreme god of my heart.  And thus, impossible to let go of.  So you see, we didn’t really break-up.  We broke through veils of delusion.

So where does that leave us standing today?  Our Relationship has been sublimely intelligent shock treatment that has disabled my capacity to linger in the beglittered fantasy of false future hopes.  I LOVE HIM.  Like no other.  That’s real.  And TODAY I choose to stand by his side.  Today I bow to him as an imperative teacher, celebrate him as a world-class friend, and dance with him as a delicious divine lover.

Will we be together in the classical sense, SOMEDAY?  Possibly!!!!  But here’s what I know for SURE~  I am committed to loving myself entirely, and with ecstatic abandon.  I am ALIVE FOR LOVE.  And a magnificent byproduct of this sacred alignment, is that I KNOW that my future is beyond bright, no matter how the story plays out.

HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!?!?!?!?

Seriously.  I have worked so fucking hard to drop anchor in this sacred center of BEing.  And maybe I didn’t have to be working hard… because awakening is inevitable.  But oh well.  I did.  (Or was I done by infinite intelligence?)  And I’m all the better for it!!!  And so are YOU.  This is not MY story.  This is OUR story.  The world is waking up.  Look into your heart, and you will see that there is an unborn, but entirely formed and miraculously pure world in there.  A beautiful, peaceful, love-drenched world.  And YOU are the One who has been blessed with the divine mission of bringing it into physical form, through the focused beam of your holy faith, tireless devotion and FULL PARTICIPATION in this wild game of love masquerading as physical form!!!   YES!!!  Now go out there and WIN IT FOR THE TEAM!!!!

From my heart to yours… All love and blessings!!!!

Athena Graceland is morphing into new dimensions of HALLELUJAH!!!
Yeah, I’m in love with video now.  My intention is to raise YOU up!!!!!

Are you ready to explore new frontiers of ecstasy, delight, gratitude and wonder?

If so, you have come to the right place!!!

Let the SHRI resound through your sweet slice of infinity within!!

 

Life Is But A _______.

Some people say that the meaning of life is to LIVE it.  Others say that being on earth is a school… and everything is a lesson.  Some people just try their best to enjoy themselves.  God, there are so many ideologies to subscribe to.  Me?  Hmmm… what DO I believe, anyway?  I believe life is a dream.  And it’s not even really happening in the first place.  I believe that Totality wanted to experience itself, so it invoked duality, so that it could cop a feel on its own ness.  But golly, lately that seems like a lot more trouble than it’s worth.  “Lately”, Athena?  Oh, okay, you got me… More like in general…

 

But I spose if I knew in my bones and my guts, that I was always held secure in the loving arms of Grace, for REALZ, I’d probably have a consistently better attitude than I do this morning.  I know, WTF, right?  Why should I have anything but reverence and gratitude for the opportunity to be here at Monkey Forest Road (a cafe in my hood), indulgently self-reflecting and streaking my computer screen with my innermost thoughts and feelings?

 

The sun just broke through this morning’s dark sprawl of storm clouds and cracked asphalt is glowing silver.  Quivering bamboo leaves now glow like nature’s own stained glass.  Every time we were together, Dan reminded me that life is only THE MOMENT.  And this basically undeniable isness used to wash me with strife, because my ego doesn’t like the idea of facing obliteration.  And Dan!!… If life is just this moment, then how do I ever GET ANYWHERE?  Not that I necessarily DO want to get anywhere… but say I changed my mind, and realized that I wanted to “make something of my life”… Then I’d hafta like plan for the future and stuff…

 

Ed just texted me and said he hoped that the words are “just flowing onto the screen”, which made me pause and reflect… Are these words just flowing onto the screen?  Hmmmm… Sort of.  But the bitch is the way I’m feeling right now.  Like a wine connoisseur, (what’s the word for a wine expert? … I forgot…) I’m sipping from the cup of my current inner climate, sliding my mind’s fingers about the  textures of my inner landscape so that I can give it a life in language.  It’s elusive.  But I might have to go with angry.  Though it’s not classical, textbook anger.  It’s more of a damp and subtle experience, that could easily be mislabeled or construed as depressed or sad.  But there is a lurking feeling, like a lithe panther, crouched in dusky jungle shadows, poised to pounce; or a stretched rubber band that may just snap.

 

Today’s Course in Miracles lesson is “I do not perceive my best interests”.  God, it’s so true.  What that means, is that all of my desires and grasping at future outcomes are founded in a steaming heap of bullshit.  You know, the dream that we are dreaming that ain’t even real.  Gosh, how do I convey this so that it makes sense to one who has not been thumpin the Course, year in and year out?   Well, it breaks down like this~ there’s God’s mind, which is the oneness of love, which obviously is where our best interests abide… and then there’s a belief that we are separate, and when we live from this insanity, it’s like wandering through a dim, endless maze of smoke and mirrors, hoping that maybe we’ll get lucky and actually stumble on something of value, something that truly brings us happiness.

 

Ya know, like if Ed left his wife and married me.  For example.  Or at least was able to spend the night with me a couple times a week.

 

But I digress.  It’s maddening to sit in this awkward place of realizing that I honestly won’t be any happier or more peaceful once I’m in a “real” relationship with Ed.  For example.  Or once I figure out what to do with my life, or earn more money or have a baby or live in Paris and become completely fluent in french, or… Ugh.  You see???  I know that everything I’m grasping for is hollow at best.  And yet I don’t want to stop grasping.  Jesus, what gives?  If only I could quiet my mind enough to hear Love’s incessant whispers in my ear.

 

Last night I dreamt that I was sneaking around with Ed at his house and his wife came home.  I didn’t want to look at her.  Not head on.  I averted my eyes and just took little calculating peeks.  I guess I knew that I was violating her by being in her space.  She looked old and homely.  Like life had sucked the radiance out of her like a dead sea sponge.  Then I woke up to the sound of running water and I was like, WHY IS THE BATHTUB RUNNING?  But then I realized it was actually a rainstorm!

 

I wonder if I should stop seeing (let alone communicating with) Ed until it’s from a free and clear place… We’ve been entertaining this possibility for a little while now… but neither one of us wants to leggo.  Over the past year, we have become essential fixtures in one another’s daily movement through time and space.  It really seems like letting go would suck.

 

But then, what about my illustrious ally, the Golden Rule?   I often tell people that if I were stranded on a desert island, and I could only bring ONE spiritual teaching with me, it would be that one- Do unto others as you would have others do unto you… I mean really- what more do you need than that?  Well, if the roles were reversed, would I want some hot goddess getting all up in my husband while I quietly slow-simmered myself in denial stew?  NO WAY JOSE.  In my heart of hearts, I believe in honesty.  Integrity.  Full and open communication.  But here I am, being a conspirator in a situation that is everything BUT that.  I guess I can’t expect anything more from others.  Will my husband cheat on ME someday?  Just so that I can feel the inverse textures of this scenario?  I wouldn’t be wildly surprised.

 

What’s more important to me, feeling good in the moment… or standing up and being the very best me I can be?  I wish it was a no-brainer.  But… I like the way Ed and I play and love and meet.  I like sitting in his lap before my altar and chanting mantra together.  I love the feeling of utter perfection that washes through me when I’m wrapped in his arms, nestled into his big, broad chest.  Little moments of fleeting fulfillment… is that as good as it gets?  Maybe.  But those little moments are EVERYWHERE….

 

Like riding to Emily’s bday party the other night, and nestling myself in the center console between the driver’s seat and the passenger seat, between Gabe and Brandon and feeling a cocktail wash of connection, naughtiness (I didn’t ask permission before I slid in!) and contentment.  Or this morning, when John, my crazy and entirely lovable building manager, came over to unclog my sinks, (a job he LOATHES) and he discovered the perverse magnetic poetry on my fridge and suddenly came to life… I was folding laundry and flushed with a stiff shot of embarrassment as he read my words aloud, riveted.  He wanted to change “slow hard fuck” to “quivering hard fuck”.  At first I was like NO WAY… but then… I considered it… and I realized that his word choice was actually superior to mine.  So I let him.  Which delighted him for a single moment before he began bargaining with me to convert his inch into a mile, by making more alterations, and I was like no way, buddy, be glad I let you edit my poem AT ALL.

 

Life.  It’s a meditation.  A waterfall of ever-new being.  A sleepy stumble through darkness which appears to be lit.  I am reaching deep inside to find “IT”.  Yet I’m simultaneously terrified of finding IT… because then none of this will be compelling anymore.  Ugh.  This calls for a deep breath.

 

Live,

A

Climbing Back On The Unicorn And Leading Us Home

Well, if you’ve lived as long as you have, certainly you are well aware that when you fall of a horse, duh, you climb right back on and keep riding.  At least in an ideal world… and there are certainly no shortage of ideal worlds leaping brazenly in our pallid faces from around just about every projected corner.  Sigh.  The bitter sweetness of those myriad ideal worlds… On one hand, they keep us reaching higher and digging deeper, which is not only bitchin, but essential… and on the other hand, they tend to blind us from the organic, irregular splendor of the perpetually moving sidewalk of Holy Right Now.

 

And now for our official first digression du jour!   Back to our ideal world, where we are all falling off and climbing on and falling off and… but I am wondering= can the same be said for falling off a unicorn?  Cuz that’s what I was riding, until it bucked me off and I ate a strawberry field forever full of dirt!  Yes, I’m referring to my recent tumble from the written world of Athena Graceland.  I haven’t blogged for like a month and a half.  God, sitting here in the maggoty aftermath of that statement, I feel a crying scream as massive as a natural disaster reverberating so deep in the chasm of my gravitational center… I guess sometimes we learn what matters to us by letting it go… For me life without writing has felt like being a forsaken spaceman without an umbilical chord.  Weightless and at the mercy of endless black (with no space-ice cream to speak of, either!).

 

But HARK!  I’ve wrastled myself back into a field of gravity and self-inflicted meaning!  And all from the succulent privacy of my own tousled bed!  Seven fifty four on a sunday morning.  Straddling the strong, white-washed velveteen back of my unicorn as words deluge from my heaving, relieved finger tips.  From my perch in bed, I watched the sky yawn and hurl vast smears of languid electric peach and smoky lavender.  Another day!

 

Another day… Okay… It’s time for me to address the “tragedy” in Connecticut.  I just really don’t understand why THIS loss of human lives is so much more SPECIAL than the fractaling multiplicity of human sufferings and injustice that occur all over the planet with every single privileged in and out breath we are blessed to sip.  I mean… it’s true.  I welled up with tears when I saw the gorgeous, beaming face of the blond, blue-eyed angel who is no more among us… and read the story of the valiant teacher who hid her students in cabinets when she heard the shots and then told the killer that they were in the gym, before he proceeded to shoot her to death.  What a wretched nightmare.   But why is that different from entire, innocent villages being bombed in war zones, or domestic violence or gang warfare or starving children in Africa???  I DON’T GET IT.

 

Okay, I do AND I don’t… It’s like the “beef industry”.  You go to a restaurant and order a “burger” or a “steak” and it’s so easy to conveniently forget that you’re actually eating a DEAD COW.   A dead cow whose life was 100% suffering from day one.  Manufactured suffering and hormones and antibiotics and corporate big business.  A wide and deep brown-eyed, furry sentient being.  Out of sight out of mind.  Burgers taste good.  And I am warm now, nestled in my soy/bamboo sheeted bed, regarding a vase of pink and yellow flowers slowly, imperceptibly decomposing on my dining room table.  What do I know of death and loss?

 

Very little.  Except that if I consider it, I remember that EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US will eventually exit this world… But mostly I am too busy obsessively stalking my own paltry comfort and illusory “success”.  But that’s not really where I want to go with all this… I want to ask you… ISN’T IT OBVIOUS BY NOW THAT WE ARE ONE GLOBAL FAMILY?  Every life is God’s life.  And God’s life is ONE LIFE.  And if the word “God” puts you off, substitute it for any other word that stimulates your inner knowing of the truth which lives silent and ever awake at the center of everything.

 

Is tightening our policies around gun control REALLY gonna mend and heal this broken world of ours?  Pssshhh… NO.  I’ll bet anything and everything on that statement.  I will.  That’s no better that putting a Sponge Bob bandaid on a slashed jugular.  We will NOT solve our collective problems from the same consciousness that created them.  At this point it’s awaken AS LOVE or BUST.  Fuck this “victim and villain” shit– the murderer is “bad” and the bereft families are “good”.  That’s merely live, hollywood theatrics.  It’s masturbatory indulgence at best.  Someone who is sick enough to go on a children-killing spree is MOST IN NEED OF BEING SHOWERED IN ENDLESS LOVE AND FORGIVENESS. I can almost hear you upchucking at this ballzy statement… but I stand fixed in this assertion.  We are all divine children.  Locking another fallen angel in a miserable cell for the rest of their life is NOT going to save our cock-eyed world!  We need to lift our bursting hearts and do a blinding rendition of the care bear’s stare (http://youtu.be/NHjd9oq4Am4) on him until he is dripping wet with Sacred Remembrance.   Don’t tell me to be “realistic”.  I am.  This is as real as it gets.

 

And now for the practical application of this gospel:  It’s time to wake up and stop dividing God.  See everyone, and when I say “everyone”, I mean EVERYONE as your Brother and Sister.  NO EXCEPTIONS.  And if you can’t, then fall to your blessed knees and pray for forgiveness to cleanse your perceptions.  We are all the same.  I could riff on the nuances of this ISness for days… but I’ve got to get in the shower now.

 

Just think on this:  How do you treat your Brothers and Sisters?

 

Feel my love.  It is your love.  Feel your love.  It is God’s love.  Feel God’s love it is infinite and ever smiling behind all the multiplicity of appearances.

 

Amen.

The Tale of the Born-Again-Indigenous-Boogie-World

Elegantly gliding through time and space toward the bus stop this morning, my face painted with a faint smile because I was headed to a strain of heaven named hip hop dance class.  My glorious city, The Land of Oaks, shrouded in soft fog.  All of the pavement felt like a hard, crusty shell, firmly embracing a hidden and tender world.  So much motion, this urban existence.  Incessant going.  And coming.  Oh this world…

 

As my eyes fall awake to the light that lives as all forms, I often well up with such a great love as I did as I breathed in the cold moisture of the said moment, drinking it deep into my lungs.  Wonder Woman, was that a beautiful moment.  But so is this one, now that I mention it… and anyway, go-go-gadget masculine directionality of this blog.  Athena Grace, striding in brisk ecstasy and welling up with unsayable love for this world.  This love whose only longing is to extend itself.  Always.  And then the recurring dream of a dance church slid into my mind, as though it were boldly stealing home.  (Hey, that would make a great book title~ “Boldly Stealing Home”!)

 

Yes, this vision has been paying me regular visits for over a decade.  It really wants to be born!  But god, it’s a daunting vision… trying to nut and bolt out the practicalities and realities of creating a sanctuary where everyone is equal in the diverse embodied immediacy of hallelujah in motion.  This church is a place where humanity comes together and actively practices seeing and being seen with and through the generous and ever-forgiving eyes of Love.  Awe!  Grin.  Just as I typed that, the church bells outside began to siiiiiiiiiiiiing!

 

Anyway, back to the sidewalk and the fog and the striking woman bubbling over with a compelling cocktail of child-like hope, pragmatism and conveniently feigned uncertainty… It was then that I realized that I could at least WRITE this vision into existence. As I often love to assert, Athena Graceland IS MY WORLD!  I am a glorious and benevolent and whimsical ruler of this page.  I can bend and twist and straight-up defy the over-starched rules of logic, linearity and even– gasp– SCIENCE!  I see this world!  It is fresh and tender.  Yet, strong enough to be cracking through the sheath of concrete and “progress” we call home.

 

I thought to jot down this inspiration of a blog topic, but instead I just hustled to the bus stop in front of the ornate, antique Grand Lake Theater and sat upon the green, sheltered bench.  And waited.  And waited.  And waited and my bus was a whopping thirteen minutes late!  But I’ll tell you this much- the more I live, the more I am able to recognize a truly infinite intelligence at work within, through and beyond all things.  So rather than holding my breath and knitting my brow about it all, I silently asked my Self what It wished of me this miraculous, white-washed morning.  And it said WRITE*.  (*As well did it say to first get a few essential groceries at Trader Joe’s, and then stop at the pull-up bar and get my pump on and meet this buff brother with a beautiful and starving heart who would lap up the love flowing through me like a purring kitten… but that’s another story.)

 

So here I am, obeying the Small, Silent Voice.  Here I am, appointing myself High Priestess of the Land of Oaks as seen through the portal that is Athena Graceland.  You wanna hear something WEIRD???  I’ve NEVER had a yoga boyfriend!  I’d like to try it some day… I know that was off topic, but it lept, panther-style into my head… and it just seems a little wrong.  But not that wrong…

 

And now back to our previously programmed special edition of Athena Graceland- Sneak Preview of the New World!  We will become “born-again indigenous people”!  Ha!  That’s brilliant!  I mean, I am not any sort of real expert on indigenous people… but in my mind, live some abstract etchings of tribally-woven communities who exist in a paradigm of harmony with, and reverence for the earth and one another; where every person in the village takes active, devotional responsibility for the balance and thrival of the whole.  As my heart wakes up, this seems so obvious… Like DUH, we are NOT separate, and I love you as I love me, and I love me as I love you because we are the Same.  (with a capital S that rhymes with bless that stands for Oneness!) I mean that’s all Jesus was saying… and somehow we managed to invent this whole neurotic religion out of such fundamental purity.  But that’s in the past.  And from the present shines a nobly gruesome, entirely forgivable, dying world.  But shhhhhh.  Listen…

 

 

 

 

Hear the concrete cracking.  Hear the guttural, rumbling whispers of a glorious new world, reaching up from deep within the belly of the earth, like an infinity-winged angel hatching from a massive egg, spinning like an anonymous whirling dervish through a star-washed sea of vast, deep space.  See us all dancing together.  All sexes, all races, all ages and walks of life.  We gather in presence, in the spirit of play and faith and healing and CELEBRATION… We lay down our rancid and calcified stories of being small, separate and afraid, like arms in a world that has never dreamed the dream of war… simply because they bore us and we’d rather boogie!  And so we boogie!  And suddenly, we are no longer deaf to the heavenly music of our own eternal souls!   So we boogie some more, because the music is so smokin’ and it feels so good to move!

 

And in this Born Again Indigenous Boogie World, we are planting gardens EVERYWHERE!  Gardens and orchards… communities are overflowing with an abundance of fresh, nourishing, organic food.  And no one is hungry.  And no one is left to suffer alone.  Who tends the gardens, you ask?  We all do.  Not because we have to, or we’re sposta… just cuz we care.  We all genuinely care.

 

WE ALL GENUINELY CARE.

 

I truly believe that much.  In fact, I’d bet my sweet life on it.  True, we don’t all ACT like we care.  Because we’ve gone to sleep, or built stone walls around our tender, tremulous and holy hearts…. but deep down, and in that endless, beginningless place we all contain, WE SURE DO CARE.  Trust me.  The more you *want* to see that care winking from within every single brother and sister, the more you WILL see it.  I speak from experience.  We always see what we want to see.

 

What do you want to see?

 

Live,

A

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some *Really* Good News

I’m praying for deep purpose to sing up from my bones and rouse me into a lucid state of devotional engagement.  Ask me how many fire-storming moments I have hovered here on this blank page begging the universe within to call me to inspired action?  More than a few full strokes of eternity.  Hot, yet pathetically bearable eternity.  I am losing my tolerance for showing up on the page and flailing my God-given linguistic gift around like I’m a forgetful golden rhinoceros on greasy roller-skates.  Can I just write my book already?  I wanted to fire off a few rounds of question marks, machine gun style because I’m feeling frustrated like a constipated pop-gun.  Shrug.  Maybe my cork is just jammed way too far into my barrel.  Let me flail copious droves of gun powder all about my inner life and PRAY for the angels to toss a lit match into the fertile epicenter of my ness so that I explode into unwavering, ignited purpose.

 

Being a genius… it looks plenty glamorous from the outside… but before you go begging down God’s door to get some, consider this:  It can be maddening.  Because it’s not all neat and tidy, orderly and predictable, like being an accountant.  Not that I would know what it’s like to be an accountant.  (Thank Goddess 😉  But my mom does.  What do accountants do?  Run crunchy addition marathons? Have chains of silent, placid multiple numbergasms?  I dunno.  But I’m putting myself under sacred citizen’s arrest.

 

Athena Grace LMNOP you have the right to embrace Silence.  And allow it to inform your linguistic engagement upon the page.  Anything you say can and WILL be devoured by the minds of the masses.  So put your elegant, slender goddess hands up and let heaven gursh blessing into your open palms that you may then,  through the alchemical grace of Love, take this blessing into the epicenter of your sacred ness and pour it back out in exquisite washes of words which activate, illuminate, turn-on, inspire the masses!

 

Rrrraaaar!  I just stepped outside into the soupy grey morning and did fifty two star jumps (formerly known as jumping jacks, but my english friend RosyMoon called them star jumps the other day, and honestly, why would anyone call them “jumping jacks”, given this whimsically evocative alternative?!).  Yes, I recently discovered that doing fifty two star jumps is a quick and dirty way to encourage deeper breath and move energy.  And for some reason I’m really tempted to feel like a cheesy buttonhole this morning… but really I have way more succulent starfish to sautee.  I don’t want to give very much airtime to my frustration.  That’s not necessary.  It’s just a habit.  A habit that’s expired like rancid milk.

 

Let’s talk about being God.  This is a wildly pertinent topic, since WE ARE GOD.  And really, it’s about time we acted like it.  Twenty twelve is a threshold.  The old world is dead.  And the new world has yet to be born.  You could say it’s a clumsy time.  Cuz like WHAT IS GOING ON??????

 

Well… actually, it is way simpler than you might have imagined.  You are God.  And this is *NOT* a religious statement.  It is a simple fact.  Embrace it and then get on with your miraculous roll through the intricate wilderness of infinity!  And if the word “God” turns you off, DON’T USE IT.  Duh.  God is just a fancy word for “Love”.  And Love is just a fancy word for this infinitely intelligent, unified field of being ness that pervades All with a capital A.  Getting hung up on semantics is useless.  Just close your eyes and get quiet for a few moments.  Enjoy breathing and feel the profound surge of aliveness from which “you” spring.  And you will not deny that you ARE the great I AM.

 

Twenty twelve.  For many of us, it is occurring like just another grain of gregorian sand in the hourglass shaped story of human beingness.  And yet for many more of us, it is a time of profound and rapid awakening.  Last year, I could not have typed the words “I AM GOD” and then continued to glide like a grace-bathed swan upon the cool and euphorically glowing lake of eternal hallelujah from which I am dreamed into being.  I would have sweated.  Or back-petaled.  Justified, apologized.  It would have seemed arrogant or far-fetched or ungrounded or overwhelming or outright ridiculous.

 

But today it is like Levis on a casual friday, or a barefoot walk on the beach.  And I’m not God cuz I’m something special… or different from you or any other breathing treasure of Creation.  No way.  I am God because I am willing to recognize my divine essence delightfully shining back at me from freaking EVERYWHERE!!!  And that’s not to say that this is always easy.  Some people still rub me in frictionally challenging fashions.  But the difference is that I still KNOW who they are, and I praise the opportunity to smooth and polish my perception so that it becomes ever more aligned and attuned to the Truth.  The truth that LOVE IS ALL THAT IS REAL has become way more compelling than being right or clutching at some withered semblance of a small and false sense of self in a dangerously vivid dream world.

 

Oh, okay… maybe I’m not quite to the point of being free from the compulsion to clutch my delusions tenderly to my breast… Busted!  (wink).  But suffice to say that they are way less interesting than they were… in any number of that phat stack of illusory yesterdays.  Let’s talk about NOW.  Oft have I wondered of the deeper meaning of the Hanuman (the Sacred Servant Monkey God of the Hindu pantheon) stories in which he is able to grow and shrink according to contextual demand… I would scratch my head, baffled as various yogic philosophers would spin his stories into a sea of abstract, voracious  and porous minds.  But these wishful lips kept right on streaming the Hanuman Chalisa with a silent prayer of Holy Becoming.  And NOW, in this embrace of OUR divine birthright, it suddenly makes sense.  I can feel myself growing beyond buildings and mountains as I write these ripe words alive for all to consume.

 

Gosh, perhaps I didn’t need to include this little Hanuman Holiday… Is it too hippy-dippy abstract?  Does it dilute the simple truth to which the One points thru me?  If so, than treat this word-stream like a “choose your own adventure story”, like the ones I used to buy from the book fairs at my elementary school, and skip that paragraph!  And don’t give me any of that “How can I skip it, Athena?  I already read it…” business!  Pa-leeeze!  This is twenty twelve and linearity is inexplicably extinct.

 

I had to write the hanuman thing because as sat, streaming these love-imbued words, an image of me, expanding to fill the world, burned behind my eyes… and the understanding was purely somatic abstraction.

 

Inhale.  Exhale.  Now I return.  Back to the utter simplicity that is the ground.  I know who I am, because I know who you are.  Every single you.  And it doesn’t matter to me whether you agree or disagree.  That’s beside the point.  This is not philosophy.  Shrug.  It’s merely the quiet smile that spreads across all existence, regardless of faith or belief.  It does not even matter whether you choose to recognize it in this moment.  You will when you do.  And time is an illusion.  Be glad for this.  Because in one of these impending sacred moments, your consciousness will POP!!!!  Guaranteed.  And you will know what you have always known.  Be what you have always been.

 

Live A.

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