Stewing In My Own Hella Succulent Broth

My fingers tread light this morning.  For the past few blogs, they have been leaden.  Two days ago, Benedetta, one of my few cherished friends here in Italy, told me that she needed to distance herself from my “situation”, because… I forget exactly why… but basically, it was too much for her.  

 

I don’t blame her.  It’s too much for me too.  She told me I was “stewing in my own broth”.  Which translates to subconsciously choosing to stay in suffering because it’s familiar and safe.  

 

This stirred my (brothy) pot.  On one hand, I felt hurt, because I honestly feel like I’m doing the best I can to keep my nose and mouth (if not my whole head) above water in most moments, while living with a relentlessly heavy, broken heart.  Another part of me felt relieved and loved. Like she cared enough to say what was hard to say, and stay connected, instead of writing me off and moving toward “better feeling” relationships. I felt so fucking vulnerable.  I need Benedetta.

 

Need.  It’s not the most flattering facet to bring to a relationship.  But the truth is, I DO need her. She is the mother of a three year old (boy), with another baby on the way.  She is challenged by her marriage. And yet she navigates the challenge from a high spiritual octave, using it as fuel to grow herself and find “It” inside.  This is the kind of company I want to keep

 

Honestly, I’m tired of my song and dance, too.  Tired of hearing that I am unhappy. My stories are starting to chafe me.  So? Where do I go from here? Fake it till you make it, kick your heels up, get your saucy groove on for no reason Delight?

 

I was listening to Matt Kahn’s lastest vid this morning.  Which of course was timely as fuck. He said that Life is dishing up hearty portions of rapid transformation right now.  He said that despicable circumstances are Life’s way of initiating us into the integrated realization that WE DO NOT NEED OUR CIRCUMSTANCES TO CHANGE IN ORDER TO LIVE IN JOY, PASSION, FREEDOM and LOVE UNBOUNDED.  

 

Hearing this, my heart burst into a loosened shower of tears.  It was almost six in the morning. Giordano was fresh out of bed, and lay with me.  He pulled me close as I cried. There was something exquisite about the moment. It was so honest and pure.  I was not blaming him for my pain. He was not in my line of fire. There was no drama. Just me breaking under the weight of my struggle and the gravity of my longing.  He, a warm-bodied and silent witness. I feel closer to him for sharing those wordless moments.

 

I cried for feeling relentlessly uncomfortable.  For the grief of whatever is dying inside. My spectrum seems to span from bland and lifeless, to hurt, to crushed, to furious.  Am I stewing in my savory broth by writing shit like that? No. Just reporting the weather, with the intention of driving the Graceland Starship to revelatory spiraling galaxies infused with deep, surrendered breaths.  

 

I want so badly… I ACHE in fact, to fully embrace the divine rightness of my Path and Choices.  This endeavor has been an opus for me. Giordano might perceive me as lazy… laying in the fetal position on our folded-out couch in the evenings… But if he only knew the blood and sweat and tears flowing on the inside as I press on to digest this unprecedented life experience.  

 

Listening to Matt Kahn, I touched the tight bud of a Possibility inside me.  The possibility of living anchored in unconditional joy and inner freedom. Can you imagine???  It almost seems unfathomable from this dot on the perceived straight-assed line of my life.

 

But I guess, in Reality, my life is anything BUT a straight-assed line.  It’s a blazing, twisting, grinning spiral of sacred stardust. Part of me already lives in this awakened place.  I am just integrating this state of being, as I clear cumbersome, vomitous buckets of cellular debris from my field.  Heck, YOU might be doing this too. Hooray for YOU! Trust me, I know what hard work it is. Hooray for US!

 

I have been heavily flirting with the notion that I was dropped by Grace and God– a state of consciousness I have not abided in for this long… in a long time.  

 

I’m jealous of people who eat croissants.  Fuckers! My digestion is too sensitive to dump such crap in this body.  God it’s not fair.

 

I digress.  As it turns out, I was NOT dropped by Grace and God.  The hella illustrious Manuela Forte agreed to council Giordano and I, on a pay as we can, IF we can basis.  She said God has been so damn good to her (she didn’t say “damn”, because she’s not a spiritual sailor like Athena Grace.), that she can afford to be flexible.  She just feels Called to help us. This is ANOTHER thing I’m more jealous of. Way more than eating croissants, in fact.

 

I’m jealous of Beings who are so spiritually aligned and fully Given to their dharma, that they LIVE in a streaming state of Grace and Abundance.  I wish I was like that. I guess in a way, I am. I always have what I need. But my consciousness still feels headlocked in survival, and too often, I feel like I’m wandering lost in sketchy neighborhoods.

 

Anyway, I spoke with Beautiful Manuela, via facebook video chat, last thursday morning.  It was a turning point. Like listening to Matt Kahn, I found the location INside, where ALL IS WELL.  Where I am love. Where everything that I am living is Holy Perfection.

 

She wanted to meet with me alone first.  I didn’t understand this, but I trust her.  And yup, it felt so right. Giordano and I will speak with her together soon.  I THINK SHE CAN HELP US… to focus our energies and intention on healing ourselves, so that we can truly evolve AND FUCKING COMMUNICATE LIKE ADULTS and love each other.  

I’m on my knees in gratitude.

 

Now, can I just tell you how desperately I WISH that I had kept my Mom’s recipe for minestrone soup???  (I mean the *actual*, neater-than-Thou, handwritten on an index card recipe that she busted out on those cold nights, when she felt a burst of inspiration to feed everyone in her group house, her favorite, simple, nourishing meal.)  Regret-stained longing is burning me on the inside. I didn’t LOVE her minestrone soup. It seemed pretty plain to me. And it had pasta, which I usually picked out, which was a pain in the ass. But being in the first trimester of pregnancy, and being disgusted my almost everything… Oh her soup sounds fucking heavenly.  Sure, I could freestyle something in the ballpark. But I want to measure shit in cups and teaspoons, according to her gorgeous script. (Which is totally NOT my style, by the way.)

 

If I let myself, I could cry about this.  But I need to pay for my tea, and get my ass to the swimming pool.  I miss my mom so much. Manuela said my Ma is working so hard from The Other Side to help me get free.  I could cry about THIS too. In fact, I AM!

 

What an Epic Fucking Journey this Life is turning out to be.

 

Sending you ALL MY LOVE.  Seriously. Because if your blessed life is anywhere near as messy and challenging as mine these days, YOU NEED IT.  

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On HAVING (all over the place!)

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Lately, my life has been about robust goodbyes.  Leaving for Italy with one-way tickets really underscores the nature of impermanence in which we are always swimming in this stunning, infinity pool of Life.  

 

Suzanne’s parting words to me were so potent, they knocked me backwards, “You’ve been wanting for a long time.  Now HAVE.”

 

They rained upon my ears five days ago, and they are still going to work on me.  

 

Who would I BE if I relaxed into my Life and allowed myself to HAVE?  

 

It *seems* that I am wired to want.  And of course this orientation to Life reaches much farther back than the crushing, five plus year relationship with my married baby daddy….

 

When I was engaged to my fiance (twelve years ago), I sat in an unbearable fire of lusty want for someone else.  Another married someone else. (Who, for the record, I eventually HAD in many ways and it was often wonderful…) But still… Looking backward, this quality of excruciating want is a prevalent ingredient in the soupy swirl of my inner landscape.

 

I recently wrote a piece on the father wound.  And the gaping, oozing want for HIM to choose me.  To make me feel like THE essential treasure of his heart.  

 

So now what?  

 

I am again engaged.  To a wildly passionate italian man, who leaves me with no trace of doubt that he chooses me (and Serena).  A man who was ready and willing to leave his country, move across the world from his family, change his Life completely to be with me.  A man who I kicked out of my house (he slept in a leaky tent in the rain), stopped speaking to… returning two times over, to the unavailable-but-all-too-familiar arms of my baby daddy.

 

Oh the unwieldy odyssey of Athena Grace.  (I’ve GOT to write the damn book already!)

 

People must think Giordano and I are CRAY-ZAY for giving it a third go.  But I trust that third time IS a charm. Listen, when you live Life right, it changes you.  

 

Whoa, I started to get sucked down a wayward rabbit hole… but I am here to talk about HAVING.  I don’t know that I have answers. I guess I’ve gotta pull a Rilke, and LIVE the answers. And the questions.  

 

How do I change my wiring?… Give myself wet, juicy, overflowing, RADICAL PERMISSION to HAVE….!!!  

 

I guess part of this luscious inner shift, is to embrace my lust for wanting.  I don’t have to “get rid” of wanting in order to have. Just widen. And savor.  And love.

 

It really does come around to self-love, doesn’t it?  And self-worth. I reckon these are siamese twins, self-love and self-worth…. or the serpent eating its own tantalizing tail….

 

Another noteworthy piece to share with you, is that in this same “robust goodbye” visit, I shared a delicious dinner with two long-time women friends.  Women whom I deeply love and respect. And we each had a womb-wrenching story of a recent relationship where we gave ourselves away… ground ourselves down in the mill of self-negating compromise and sacrifice.  And I could name at least another half dozen women in my immediate circles who are riding the same exhausted crucible carousel.

 

WHAT THE FUCK????

 

Sisters, what are we DOING????

 

The time has come to live into a new and utterly vivifying myth.

 

And now, bitches and fuckers (Being “ladies and gentlemen” is definitely part of the problem, NOT the solution.  Embrace it. Haha.), Athena Grace is going to go MACRO.

 

Women~ this same tolerance for mediocrity (and less) in our relationships, is part of the root system of destruction of the PLANET.  Resigning ourselves to crumbs, silencing our powerful voices, suppressing our OCEANIC Desire.

 

WE ARE NOT VICTIMS.  

 

Unless we want to be.

 

But come on.  Victimhood is so 2016.

 

This is our mOMent to join hands and hearts and RISE THE FUCK UP as the Luminaries of Succulent HAVING.  

 

How do we DO this?

 

We’ll make it up as we go.  But first is the full throttle commitment to ourselves, to our worth, to our sisters, to the Earth.  

 

When a sister mounts her dead, bleeding unicorn and kicks it in the sides, attempting to ride a few centimeters (backwards)… Call her out!  (and *demand* she do the same for YOU.) Let’s generate NEW CONVERSATIONS.

 

Conversations woven with the silken threads of pleasure, ecstasy, joy, celebration, success, plenty, satiation, vision, turn-on, YES.  

 

HAVING.

 

I, Athena Grace, give myself Radical Permission to HAVE all over the place.  And I dedicate my having to YOU. May my infinitely expanding capacity to HAVE inspire and reSource ALL.  May my HAVING always be aligned with Infinite Divine Love. May my HAVING always generate wellbeing, balance and peace.  

 

Amen.

 

Love Letter Sent from Hell

Hello from the bowels of hell.  It’s actually nice that they allow me write hOMe from down here.  I wouldn’t have expected that. Hell gets such a bad rap. But it’s actually a pretty quiet place.  Except for the jubilantly gurgling fish tank filter. They even have a profoundly soft sheepskin rug for me to sit on.  It’s almost like a cheap knock-off of Heaven down here.

 

Gosh, I thought I was in hell… maybe I should look at a map before I open my big fat mouth and announce shit on the internet.  

 

I woke up grinding myself down in fear and worry of an imaginary and tragic, not-so-distant-future.  A future where I too quickly run out of money… have no way to make more… no inner, nor outer reSource to make my Dreams come true.  It’s fuckin bleak. Plus, I have an incredible, wildly deserving child that I am accountable for. The skewed puzzle of Existence-As-I-Know-It, is not adding up in my mind.  

 

Something woke me at 3am.  At 3:50, I got out of bed… imagining that I’d have extra bonus time to infuse my mind with great books and make love with my cup of tea… but instead I cried too much to even be able to sip from my steaming cup of luscious, caffienated love.  

 

Now I am forgoing my unsayably delectable yoga practice, because I HAVE to write this shit down.  It’s just too bizarre. One of those nightmares you wake up from drenched in sweat, heart pounding… sooo glad to be awake…. But the images and feelings are burned so deep in your body-mind that it takes some serious will power to undo from its gouging shackles.

 

The mind.  Wild that it can dance between heaven and hell in a single flirtatious blink of Goddess’s shimmering, infinite eye.  

 

It’s actually kinda cool… to abide in the space where Rubber and Road merge, mingle and masticate.  I mean that’s when we REALLY get to bump and grind with the untainted honesty of what we are made of.  

 

Or not.

 

I’m made of Light and Love and Hella Special Sauce.

 

But I’m not feeling like it.


What I’m driving at, is that lofty spiritual concepts fly out the window when Life has you in a headlock, your soft cheek pressed against gritty pavement.  Before the genius notion to pound my glorious terror out upon willing keys arose, I perched on a sexy, red suede couch, marinating in sacred, terrifying aloneness, crying plump, juicy tears, hurling hateful words at Ed… like how I wish we’d never met, and that I’d kill myself if it wasn’t for Beautiful Serena.  

 

Isn’t that horrible?

 

I just can’t get my head around how I imagined I was moving in the direction of my Dreams by leaving Ananda.  Now that I am here in outrageously expensive, excessively paved Marin County, I feel totally destabilized and incapable of birthing my Visionary and Delectable women’s video circles.  

 

Maybe I should jump tracks and pour myself into my Podcast, “Get Naked With Athena”…

 

Nobody has signed up for my upcoming webinar.  Go figure. I have been drowning in fear and despair.  Not exactly alluring, to say the least.

 

BUT I CAN WRITE.  I can pour my deranged, haunted-fun-house-mirror feelings and injured-though-fiercly-determined=racehorse-mind all over the page and THIS is my freedom.  THIS is my heaven amidst the self-imposed hell that I am back-stroking through.

 

And I CAN BREATHE.  As deeep as I wanna.  That’s raw, pure Grace.   Mmmmm…. I looove to breathe.  

 

At the heart of the heart, this is what I LIVE for.  To write this boggling existence down. For posterity’s sake.

 

I’m watching, awestruck as my sense of self unravels.  I really don’t know if I know a damn thing. Before Serena came along, I thought I was this high and mighty preacher of the Good Word.  I dreamt I was a know-it-all, spiritual badass. But honestly, as another dawn illuminates this jagged, perplexing world, and I type my heart and soul out upon the page as though my Life depends on it….

 

I feel like desperate emptiness dreaming hollow, haunted dreams.  

Breathing.

Wondering….

Wondering what my Life is REALLY for.  

Beneath the fever dreams of ego and false salvation.   

God will show me the Way.   

I pray that I can be good

for Beloved Serena today.

And hey…

Beloved Me, too.

Even though SHE

Is harder to see.

 

And God, please take away this self-hatred that I didn’t even realize was in me…. Until I stumbled, mostly sober, into this illusory wing of hell.  Let me be Empty.

 

And Faith-FULL.  

 

Amen.

And the Winner is… Athena!!!!!

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Do you know why it’s been three weeks since I last exploded into linguistic existence here in Athena Graceland?  Because…. Serena turned four months alive.  Now she’s not just this tender and mild little suckling lump who lays in my lap while I hurl inspired words, like lightning (look Mom, I spelled it right just for YOU!!!) bolts across a wide splayed, glowing page.  If she was in my lap right now, she’d be doing these adorable little baby crunches– lurching her head and shoulders forward, like she was trying with all her blessed might to sit up.  Over and over again.

Baby work.  It is actually very inspiring to watch… Because it reminds me that even though we “grown ups” imagine ourselves to be so much more civilized and complex, we really are spiritual babies, executing similarly remedial, repetitive exercises… but we clothe them in grandiosity so that we can feel important.  Oh gosh, now’s the moment when giving an example would really thrust me into the domain of a “better writer”… It would give your mind some concrete cud to munch.  Gosh, I want to be the best writer in the world.  Honestly, I think I am.  I read old blogs of mine and my eyes turn to electric pink, throbbing hearts.  If I wasn’t me, I would obsess over me.  I would dream of meeting and befriending me… I’d imagine going to a book release event of mine, where I would do everything in my power to get my attention… and hope that I would notice me and realize that we were kindred spirits, and even though I didn’t have the miraculous linguistic gift that I did… that my heart and mind shared the same audacious, psychedelic heart vision… and we should be bffs who have pillow fights and whipped cream wars and stay up all night playing Truth or Dare and Dance Dance Revolution.

Actually, I hate staying up all night.  I don’t play video games, and I don’t even know what a whipped cream war IS… but it sounds like moderately inappropriate, over the top fun.  And furthermore, I’m NOT gonna give you that stupid example of how humans are like undercover babies, because it’s not pleasurable enough for me, and I am here to ENJOY myself, even at the expense of coming across as a SPAZzz.    Because this enchanted place ain’t called “Athena Graceland” for nuttin’.  It’s a matriarchal society of One.  And I guess even if I remain my number One-and-Only fan for the rest of eternity, that’s okay.  Actually, writing that made my heart sad.  I want lots of people to recognize my genius as I do.  Well, my mom does too… And Dan did.  And maybe a couple of other people.

Arg.  Five fifty two am, and I hear Serena making the most adorable patient baby sounds from the bedroom.  She was supposed to sleep until at least six thirty.  Welcome to my new life: an incessant land-sliding game of catch-up, at which I am guaranteed to lose, but even though it’s mildly frustrating, I really don’t ultimately care, because I have the most sublime, buddha-full daughter, and deep down I know that loving and caring for her is all that matters.  The rest is just hollow details that I chase because they are part of inhabiting fifth dimensional space-time.

I just went into the bedroom to round up the said bundle of delight.  My surface waves were grumpy, because it was too early, and I needed more time to myself.  But then (and this happens every time I turn toward her blazing Light) I opened the bedroom door and found her gracefully flailing and beaming beneath the soft, thick covers.  When I haven’t beheld her for an entire cluster of moments and then I do, I feel re-amazed and wholly rapt by her exquisite luminosity.  And as if that was not enough, she reached out and touched my face.  This is a new thing.  She really loves to touch my face.  And she extra loves when I kiss her tiny, devastatingly soft, expectant hand.  Or gobble it up.  Sometimes that makes her laugh, and she wants me to do it again and again and again and again and…. Haha, that’s the exhausting beauty of children.  They never seem to tire of that which thrills them.

She’s sucking on my boob now.  My right hand is prickly and half asleep as I type– a new condition I’ve acquired since the commencement of “side-lying nursing” at night.  Frown.  The things “they” don’t tell you about motherhood.  And if they DID, it wouldn’t even matter, because raising a beaming buddha that grew from Miraculous Nothing inside my very own womb, is the best thing in all of Creation.  Hands down.

Oh dear, I think my little goose is going to fall back asleep on my lap.  She just needed a BIG snack.  And to be close to mama.  Ok… well that’ll work out swell until the coffee in my system demands that I get up and pee.  Yes, I drink coffee some mornings.  I’m not the perfect, crunchy, new-age mama.  But Serena doesn’t seem to get whacked out, or spit up or anything that would indicate that it sucks for her…And like Jesus says, “don’t bother hurling no stones unless you are entirely flawless”.

I want to tell you that I’m… I was gonna say “happy”… but I guess that’s not entirely accurate.  Sometimes I feel anxious or lonely or slightly bored.  Maybe “content”, or “at peace”, or… “saturated in gratitude”… would sum it up better.  Mostly I am a blazing YES to my life.  I’m surprised at how satisfied I am, making soup in my “Shakti Pot” for a living.  Yes, one day a week, I make a big pot of delicious, nourishing vegan soup, and deliver it to the homes of delighted “re-soup-iants”.  This is the primary way I am “making ends meet”, as a single mama at this time.  It really feels good to offer a service that people appreciate.  I honestly love being domestic.  And creative.  But then I get scared that my “contentment” will stagnate, like lucid spring pools that become slimy, mosquito lava-laden, summer puddles, and I will remain anonymously snoogled in the woods with my daughter, making soup for a meager living FOREVER!  But then I remember one of Dan’s primary gospels– that living fully in the mOMent will always carry one gracefully along the sacred River of Life.  I won’t get caught in an eddy for too long.  Although I HAVE been caught in an Eddie for four years now!  Haha!  But I even feel free from the Eddie eddy by now.  Being a mother, I don’t have the time or energy to invest in fashioning a world of woven hopes and wispy “someday”s… It’s perfect.  I neither push him away, nor pull him to me.  I just love him.  Really that’s all there ever is to do.

God?  Please make sure that I don’t get stuck or stagnant while I’m busy over here practicing the advanced art of contentment, as well as meeting the demands of day to day existence.  Seriously… I’m putting myself in your hands.  Don’t drop me!

Gosh, I don’t thing this was my most “knock you backwards with my profound genius” blog… but I showed up.  And kept the pipes clear.  Now Serena is doing her aforementioned “baby sit-ups”, and I’ve got to organize my existence around her needs and desires.  Plus today is Shakti Pot, so I’ve gotta get my “African Peanut Soup” on pretty soon.  So I guess this is ciao for now.  I really hope there is a prestigious award for showing up today… Because I’d really love to be a winner this morning, even though I don’t feel like I nailed it like I love to nail it.  I guess I’m a winner for loving my daughter with my whole heart.  And the innocence in me, as well… And paying the rent on time.  And keeping my house tidy and mostly shri.  And maintaining a relatively consistent yoga practice.  I hope I can get it together to plant a little spring garden…

Being a single mama is the perfect life for me right now.  I am evolving so profoundly.  Oops, gotta go, I hear them singing out my name at the award ceremony…!!!

Love to your precious heart….

Motherhood: The Dawn of Soulful Joy

As I mentioned recently, I am happier than I’ve ever been in my life.  This is truly triumphant, because I am one who has invested a hefty chunk of my life in the coin of getting down, dirty and destroyed by darkness, depression, despair.  Too many a day of my thirtieth year, I shook my fist at God, beseeching this Force of Almighty Love, “I have always turned toward You… WHY have you left me to marinate in this dense puddle of ache and confusion???”  And as was the way, when I cried out to God, I was met with that cursed, spacious aloneness, which was never any consolation to my desperate, bleeding heart.  I may never stop wondering WHY we must live all that we must live.  And trust me, WE MUST LIVE IT.  Or else we wouldn’t live it.

As I look backward, through the unflattering, though honest lens of my nearly eternal Dark Night of the Soul, what I realize, is that through this rigorous course of study, I was able to evolve from a state of numbness in the face of divine duress, to a gorgeous, tantric willingness to feel it all, to embrace the sensational aliveness, the creatively textured lila of my holy existence.  This skill of unconditional embodiment did *not* come easy.  It came hard earned, after thirty some odd years of reticent practice, including, but not limited to an eating disorder in my late teens and early twenties.  Compulsive eating.  Compulsion– A strong, usually irresistible impulse to perform an act, especially one that is irrational or contrary to one’s will.  So you see, compulsion, by nature, implies that I really had no idea why the fuck I was doing what I was doing, while I was doing it.  But in retrospect, it became obvious that it was to shut down my feelings.  What feelings was I shutting down?  Honestly, I have retired from the arduous vocation of inspecting my past under a high power microscope…but I do know that I hovered somewhere between a few feet and a few miles off the ground, until I was about thirty years old.  And even then, I was not fully committed to inhabiting the treacheries of this unforgiving earth plane.  Geesh, that last sentence portrayed this planet to be some sort of inhospitable hell… Is the earth plane truly “unforgiving”?  I’d say that WE are the bringers of forgiveness, in the face of all that it is to be here… And the choice to show up at this cacophonous pot-luck with such a savory, nutrient-dense dish as forgiveness, is a true sign of spiritual maturity.

I love how I began this piece by asserting that I am happier than I’ve ever been, and my surrendered fingers led us into the throes of a shadowy and dismal past… I guess it’s sorta like proudly displaying my battle scars to you, as I stand, exposed and beaming with pride and Heavenly Light.  I want you to know that no matter where you are on the Ride of Your Life, it is the explicitly perfect place to BE.   This is a massive motivation in writing to you!  What good is my journey, if not to share it with you, in service of building a bridge of perfection from here to illusory “there”… The “there” of fulfillment, peace and unconditional joy… We Love Warriors are armed with bottomless willingness and perfect faith, as we navigate the labyrinths of all that we must live.

And now back to the dawn of this grounded, steady, gentle song of happiness, gaily playing through my heart and life.  It was born with Serena.  Though I was not aware of its modest, unobtrusive presence at first, because I was otherwise occupied, contending with acute hormonal fluctuations, reorganizing organs, and the shock of suddenly inhabiting a totally new life, in a totally new place, with a totally new, totally dependent, and totally teensy person.  But praise the Lord, that didn’t last long.  In the Grand Scheme, that is.  Really, what’s a few weeks?  It’s but a skillfully skipped stone across the placid surface of an alpine lake.  And now that smooth, flat stone has sunk and settled in wet oblivion, and I am here, smoldering with hard-earned and sustainable delight.

During my pregnancy, and earliest days of motherhood, I fought a long and exhausting battle with the demons of fear and self-doubt.  Living every day, with this vicious, whispering question, smeared all about the walls of my mind– How on earth would I raise my daughter AND earn enough money to sustain us both???  Actually, I’m still not a hundred and eight percent sure of The Answer… but what has shifted is my belief in my Self.  During the heat of battle, I remember thinking, “I have come to trust God and Grace and Galactic Beneficence… They always reveal the perfect door to walk through, opportunity to seize.  But my will felt weak.  Would I walk through the door, if it meant sweating, or feeling a burn?

But Hail Mary Full of Grace, childbirth restructured my relationship with sweating and burning!  They have become mere child’s play.  Doors are pouring forth like scarves from a magician’s palm.  And I have seen myself courageously step through them, tasted the quenching satisfaction of saying yes, and doing the necessary work, with my daughter strapped to me, or suckling my breast all the while.  Like a treasure-laden pirate ship, washed up on my beachfront property, my will and strength have mystically emerged, and I am mostly confident, and wholly victorious.

I began this piece with the effusive desire to tell you how amazing my daughter is, and how being a mother somehow completes me… which I feel cautious admitting, since over the course of my life, I’ve heard people tout the notion that one oughtn’t lose herself in motherhood, because it’s not healthy or balanced.  But I wonder what is the difference between GIVING myself wholeheartedly to motherhood, and “losing myself” in motherhood?  Honestly, I don’t care, because my current experience is authentic and sourced by a massive love.  And Serena deserves ALL OF ME, my passion, delight and devotion.

My favorite definition of the ever-elusive word, tantra, is “to weave”.  By tantra, I mean the spiritual path of embracing all that it is to BE HERE; perpetually diving IN and THROUGH.  Transcendence through intimacy with, rather than avoidance of… And in this immaculately woven tapestry of existence, giving myself wholeheartedly to motherhood also means giving myself wholeheartedly to my Life.  Emerging in this vital role has incited an arousal of deep knowing and trust in my artistic gift as a writer, and a newly ignited passion to claim my essential place in this world, and share what bursts at my seams, in the name of Service and Salvation.  Just like pulling a stray thread in a sweater, it all comes unraveled… if you tugged with any conviction at the thread of my impassioned motherhood, you would suddenly find yourself holding a long strand of unified power, purpose, passion, pleasure, play… And if you continued to unravel this intricate and sacred weave, you would be standing alone at the edge of emptiness, holding the infinite thread of Creation in your trembling hand.

Every morning, I wake at five am, into this saturated sense of purposeful eagerness.  I feel Serena’s warmth beside me.  I listen for a few fleeting, hallowed moments to her softly dancing breath, before delicately exiting the bed we share, and making my way to the kitchen to fill my red, whistling kettle with enough water to make a cup of coffee.  Drip by drip, I pour the perfect cup, and sip by sip, I pour my unbridled heart and mind and life across the page so that YOU may remember your Self.  So that your courage may emerge to say YES to the incessant whispers of your soul.  So that you may love all that you have lived, and live all that you love.

Around six thirty, a soft festival of coos and grunts emerge from the still dark bedroom.  Serena is so graciously alerting me of her readiness to share another blessed day together upon this earth.  I finish up the sentence that is lingering in my tingly, singing fingers, and then make my way to the bedroom to scoop up my well-rested, perpetually joyful, Tiny Goddess.  Every day, I am again astonished by her exquisite, soulful beauty, and fresh, tender perfection.  I’m serious.  There is poetic license, and then there is straight up honesty.  I cradle her portable little body in my arms, and study her face, bearing riveted witness, as she lands back in this lucid, waking dream, after a long, luxurious night of rendezvousing with the Luminous Lords and Ladies of that Lighter dimension of heaven… you know, the one most of us wistfully pine for as we trudge across the rigorous scapes of grace we must face to know this *temporary*, denser heavenly hOMe.

Haha, listen to THIS– I just took a little break from writing, to change Serena’s diaper, bring some more firewood inside before it got too soaked by the rain, make some tea… And all this talk of heaven roused Eric Clapton’s song to rise to the surface of my mind.  You know, the one he wrote after his sun died… I started singing it to Serena.  “Would you know my name, if I saw you in Heaven…”  Such a lovely melody… I was compelled to find it on Youtube and play it for us.  I did, and began to give my all to singing along with the tender-hearted angel, Mister Clapton.  But I didn’t even make it through the first verse, before I burst into tears, my choked up voice turning to quaver and strain.  I feel weird crying like that in front of my girl… “On paper”, I strive to model healthy emotional expression, still some part of me wants to hold on… fearing that it might frighten her, or stress her out… But even so, I let go; let my heart break open at the notion of losing my child, and serenading her as she flies back to the Other Side.  I explained to my perfectly alert, gurgling daughter through tears, what the song was about.  She gazed at me with unfiltered light spilling from her eyes.  All these little, frivolous moments… strung in garlands like cranberries and popcorn… adorning the spiraling mind of God.  This is the gift we each live.  And it’s easy to miss, if we are caught in that wretched trap of striving…

But back to the urgent matter of my testimony of grounded joy.  Serena is a slow motion shooting starburst of smiles and indecipherable, enlightened baby music.  How could I NOT be a purring stream of ecstasy?  Well, I’ll TELL you how– and actually, this confession will smoothly unify the round-about route I took to get to this very sentence I am typing– all of that afore mentioned darkness that I faced, befriended and transmuted… I am certain that living through all of that with patience and presence and faith, has carved this wide-open, sacred space, in which I can fully taste and savor the slow-paced, earthy delight of motherhood.  I’m so glad I waited till I was on the brink of thirty six trips around the sun to become Mother.  My nervous system has unraveled substantially.  And being with a baby is a mellow, crawling roll.  It would be hard to inhabit the center of it if I was wound tight and yanking at my own leash.

It was a gratifying surprise that bringing Serena into the world would deliver me so deeply into the crystalized center of my impassioned gifts.  This miraculous synthesis is the sober source of my happiness.  A particularly wild, passionate and visionary soul brother, Damien, used to say, “Your dreams are waiting for you to come true.”  Indeed they were… but their days of waiting are done.  Athena Grace has Risen.  And will rise a thousand times more. And then, rise again… Because, my friends, there really IS no end to this exquisite trip of Love exploratorily caressing its own infinite body.

The Party Starts Here…

Well… I FINALLY made it!!!  You know… to the land of milk and honey!!!  That sweet, creamy epicenter of creation, where there is no resistance… to life…  Grin.  Will I be able to stay in this inner paradise?  Or will my unabashed telling it on a mountain knock me back on my sparse little fairy ass?  Shrug.  My hypothesis is that life will keep grinding me into exquisite diamond dust… and sometimes I’ll enjoy it more than others…  but for the most part, I have retired from beating myself up, and measuring myself against that despicable pile of beyond the sky spiritual standards.

This is mostly thanks to Matt Kahn.  (check him out on youtube or truedivinenature.com.  seriously.) People, I’m telling you… this dude is the sanest of the sane among us!!! He has reminded me that I can take an EPIC shortcut to everything that I have ever wanted, just by loving my own heart.  Yes.  Like physically putting my sentient, slender, E.T. hands over that warm, pulsing center of the universe, and saying aloud, “I LOVE YOU,” as I feel it reverberate like music through the land beneath my sternum.  As many times as I can stand it… and then a baker’s dozen more… at least.   Because like… the time has come to stop being a beggar, pleading for others to give me that which I refuse to give myself.  Insanity at its finest!…

In response to EVERYTHING that arises… I LOVE YOU.  I love you… I love you.  Try it!  I DARE YOU.

So I’ve found the gleaming, antique key to the Pearly Gates of the Queendom of Heaven.  Now what?  Like Jack Kornfield said, “after ecstasy, the laundry”.  Yep.  I’m still here at the Momshram, aka Ananda Village.  Early last week, I was shopping in “Master’s Market” and the woman who rang me up asked me if I was “looking for a job”.  It hadn’t occurred to me that I was… but when I gave it some thought… I realized that I just might be, after all!!!!  She said they  needed a new produce manager.  Twenty hours a week.  Someone to love on the veggies and fruities.  I felt kinda excited.  It was one of those cases of MC Omniscience on the mic, singing out divine order loud and clear.  So I leaned into the invitation and the next thing I knew, I was unloading a truck of organic veggies and blinking with astonishment at the light speed progression of my unfolding!

Actually, I panicked.  Like what in the heck had I just committed to???  What were the implications of saying YES to this opportunity?  Suddenly I was married to a life inside of this conservative, rigorous spiritual utopia in the middle of the woods, to which I do not officially belong… nor aspire to belong, to be honest.

Yeah, lemme interject a word about that- This place is medicine.  Many people come here to heal.  Whatever it is they have to heal…  Myself included.  Over the past year and some months, I have become unrecognizable to myself.  I have given up alcohol and pot and the excessive stimulation of urban existence.  I have been emerging as a teacher and a leader; one who courageously lives what she knows in her heart, without holding back.  But not in an ostentatious way… just inhabiting a quiet faith in the all-pervading power of love.  Gosh, I suppose that’s nothing new for me… But just updating my systems, and purging some seriously heavy, useless junk.

That said, I’m certainly as flawed as the rest of you suckas!!!  I still act like a jerk sometimes.  Especially to the people who matter most to me.  And I still shook in my hip and versatile, water-resistant boots after I committed to being the Produce Goddess at Master’s Market.  I told the manager (multiple times) that I wasn’t sure that the job was for me… that he should keep looking for someone “permanent” (whatever THAT is!), but I would GIVE MY BEST while I was there.  He looked into and straight through me and with an omniscient smirk, said, “That’s perfect.  That’s all I ask.”

And then I was free.  Not locked into living out a begraggled eternity at Ananda Village, doing a part-time, minimum-wage job… but just free… to fully inhabit THE MOMENT.  Giving my heart and my sweat to the task at hand, and the people who grace my presence.  It’s been like a week and a half.  And I am surprised by how much I love it.  It feels like family there.  A family of bright lights, under-cover agents of LOVE.  It’s kind and peaceful and SHRI.  My life feels balanced and blessed.

Oh, I forgot to tell you the most significant piece!!!  Ahem.  So I am practicing trusting my HEART to guide my life, right?  I am.  And it tells me what to do.  Sometimes.  And then sometimes there are spans of great quiet.  Where I guess I am just meant to BE in life for a while… But She told me to take this job.  And AHHHHHHHH my ego went BERZERK!!!!  It was like freaking out because it didn’t understand what I had just done!!!  It didn’t seem to jive with all the plans that it had made… For me to have a baby… and lead the LOVE REVOLUTION… and be a leader of women and a wealthy spiritual teacher with my own hOMe… and… on and on. (which is mostly all happening through me anyway, but that’s beside the point.)

All I knew is that I was told to say YES.

PEOPLE… I’m telling you… this kind of engaged, surrendered willingness is a serious exercise in TRUST.  A divinely ordained test I passed by a baby angel’s hair!!!! (there’s no such thing as failure, buy the way!) All I know is that life is NOT what we think… It’s this miraculous trust walk through perpetually blossoming gardens of endless magnificence that we can only recognize when we stop thinking we know how it should go and projecting into the illusory future… just simply relax as the current of divine grace carries us along this riveting river of predestined “surprises”, which are ALL conspiring to unfold us as ever-perfect expressions of LOVE in motion.

Are you ready to REMEMBER?

“The party starts here,” she said with a coy smile, pointing with gentle confidence to her blazing heart.

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!!!!

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