The Epic Battle of Selves

As many of you are aware, the relationship with my Italian Amore blew up again.  On moonday morning, Serena and I left his house in a calmly tremulous frenzy, taking refuge in the miraculous beneficence of Ananda Assisi.  There was so much beauty and magic in surrendering into the hands of God in this way. People rallied to help us find sanctuary.

 

My Cosmic Dad found us the cheapest ticket home, which was $1250!  He fronted the money, explicitly stating that he needed it back ASAP.  I wrote a vulnerable post on facebook, sharing my situation and asking friends to help us with financial contributions, as I was at the end of my modest “nest egg”.   I was floored by the money and love that poured in! And also blinking in amazement at how profoundly worthy I felt/feel, considering the mess I made, letting go of EVERYTHING (save my trusty old Subaru, “Venus Ray”) and flying brazenly into the intensely emotional arms of a twin flame with whom I already had a wildly questionable track record.  

 

And now for the dripping, tender meat of this story.

 

Yesterday morning, I was moved to get an early start, so we hitchhiked the short ride (lonnng walk) to the top of the twisty hill where Ananda is nestled.  To be outside, in the River of Life.

 

We easily got a ride from the first car that drove by~ a friendly older italian woman with blond hair and a sturdy frame swooped us up in her ancient red coop.  I delighted in the loving strain of our attempt to communicate, despite the language barrier. By the time she dropped us off at the entrance to Ananda, my heart was wide and beaming.  

 

As we ascended the path, we nearly collided with my wild-eyed Italian Amore.  OMG. I felt like a deer in the headlights. All my vigilance centers flashed red alert.  Desperately, I groped inside for discernment of what to do…

 

In the end, I hugged him.  Good lord. I FEEL this man.  Even amidst all the singing alarm bells chiming inside, mostly I felt relief to be joined again in embrace.  His eyes were swollen, red and moist from two days of crying. After the extended hug, I tried to keep my guard up as he began to persuade me to come back, forgive all, start fresh.  

 

I was solid in my NO, as well as my stance of love.  “I’m not open to discuss this,” I stated, “all you must know is that I am leaving, I forgive you and I love you.”  This felt right and clear to me.

 

We loitered together awkwardly in the parking lot for some time…. Not sure what to do with this “Holy Moment”.  And then his MOM drove by (on her way to work)! I hadn’t met her yet. She saw us from a distance and pulled over!  Freaking out on the inside, I hung back as he approached her car. But Desire pulled me to greet her, unsure of how Serena and I would be received.  

 

She embraced us.  Strong. I let her in.  And she me. She was a small woman with a wiry build.  Strong from a life of hard work (on many levels). She smelled mildly of cigarettes.  I saw that she had the same hands as her son and I took them both and held them close in ecstatic comparison.  She gushed over Serena and commented on how much she resembled Italian Amore’s own six year old son. They have very similar almond shaped brown eyes and deep-toned skin.  Strange…

 

Then, Italian  Amore met our mutual friend for breakfast.  I felt relieved that he was getting support.  Their communion was porous, and we all ended up being together.  She encouraged him to drive us to the airport on Saturday. He was stretched between desire and fear of more profuse “bleeding”.  I told him to sleep on it.

 

He invited me to come on Friday, to the meditation and breathing program put on by the spiritual healer he connected with mere hours after I gave him the boot from my Nevada City nest.  She has been energetically holding him since then. And me too, to some degree. I really want to meet her. She is such a pure ray of Source Energy. I felt the power and perfection in this closure.  

 

We parted ways.

 

But my body was aflame with unbearable desire all day.  I could only thing of making love with him. I ached to reach out.  I strained to have restraint. I prayed hard to God.

 

Around five pm, it began to rain as Serena and I made our way toward the little Ananda market, under a large purple umbrella, in search of food for dinner.  As I labored along with thirty pound Serena in my left arm, umbrella and purse on the right, he texted me, inviting us for dinner. Ahhhhh. The fierce inner tug o’war began.  I said no. Seconds later, the woman I am staying with texed, reporting that the market is closed for a holy day… Some major “Madonna”-related thing.

 

Well there was my answer.  He picked us up on the side of the road, and we drove straight to his father’s garden, where we tread the soft, rain-moistened, giving earth, foraging for everything delicious and good.  

 

The kittens were wandering about and Serena immersed in their fluffy, enchanted world as we gathered armloads of dinner.  At this point, I felt so confused by the twist of love and desire and choices… the front surface of my body was a gnarled mess.  I layed on the earth and begged Her to help me release fear and come hOMe to my Highest Knowing. I could feel Her against me, alive and willing.

 

I prepared homegrown millet and green beans sauteed in fresh olive oil and garlic.  I asked him to prepare a simple salad, but he kept getting derailed by his all-consuming pleas to get me to stay.  I felt so mixed up. I had been so sure that we needed to go. I enrolled my entire community in my situation, and they showered us in money love and prayers.  

 

But the pull of our magnetism is sooooo strong.  And Italy is so dazzling… We shared so many tender, unborn dreams….

 

Get this, people– BOTH of his parents called during the short time we were at his house, asking him how he was, and telling him NOT TO LOSE ME.  That I was the best he’d ever had, and don’t fuck it up. Whoa.

 

We let Serena watch an episode of Elmo’s World, while we went in the bedroom and made quick and exquisite love.  I came. He didn’t. By then it was getting dark. “Bath time” had come and gone. Though he wished we’d stay the night, he drove us home.  I was sure I needed to digest.

 

I sought my hella wise friend Joy’s council.  I chose her because of her impartial stance and vast, sober, embodied intelligence.  To my dismay, it became clear that still my innermost truth is to return to California.  I felt grief for this. And fear of my Amore’s impending CRUSH against his own internal craggy scapes.  

 

Now thursday is dawning.  I am sitting with the intense internal pressure of love and fear swirling aggressively inside me.  

 

God help him be at peace with my choice.  And choose to stay open to love. We had planned for him to take Serena to the playground this morning….  Lord knows what will happen when I tell him I am really going.

 

Oh the sands in the hourglass that are the Days of my Life……..

 

UPDATE:  I told him I am leaving.  He came over. Desperately trying to persuade me to change my ticket for a later date, and go to California together in the winter after he’s harvested his olives, made oil and gathered money.  OMG. I know that if we are to heal and thrive together, we NEED the support of a conscious, evolutionarily focused community. We can’t navigate our shadows together alone.

 

I don’t know what to do.  

 

The End.

 

Haha yeah right.  

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This must be Italy….

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Yesterday was day 8 here in Italy, and it finally sunk in that we are here.  Before that, it was more like being at “Giordano’s house”… where the “extras” just happened to speak in mostly indecipherable, robust, ticklingly rhythmic tongues.  As soon as we dressed and ate breakfast, we piled into our little Fiat for an extended pilgrimage through the countryside, in pursuit of fresh, raw milk and cheese. While he was at work yesterday  his mamma blew up his phone (five times, to be precise), to report a source of organic raw milk at the farm just below her home, in the hills above Assisi.

 

My moon blood had just begun to flow- a sacred day I designate for rest and introspection (if such a thing is possible with a two and a half year old…).  I was not expecting the exxxtended amusement park ride along narrow, rutted gravel roads overlooking stunning, steep green and golden hillsides rolling across all space.  Turns out, he didn’t really know “the way”. All he knew is that the farm was “below the house of his mother”. My breath became involuntarily shallow, my body tense, after the gazillionth dramatic twist about the infinite span of ruined road.  I tried to let go and surrender to Giordano’s questionable leadership. But at some point, I lost it, and venomously begged to turn the fuck around and forget it. Nope. Driven by raw instinct (as he mostly is), he kept driving. Within a minute we pulled into the driveway of a massive stone house.  The kind you see in movies- sturdy rectangular boxes, with small, precise windows framed by wooden shutters. The surrounding land, lush, green and laden with friendly trees, spilling offerings of fruit and shade. Three happy country dogs greeted us, and called to their Master.

 

He emerged from the fairytale house, unkempt brown hair and overgrown beard flying everywhichway.  He was slender, with a hint of pot belly and posture that whispered the tale of a life of hard-assed, though gratifying labor.  Giordano got out of the car and greeted him. I could pick out a few Italian words… I think he said that he was the son of Raphaella, and she had told him they had raw milk for sale?  Eventually, he gestured for me to get out of the car. I unbuckled Serena from her carseat, and greeted the warm-hearted farmer. A voluptuous woman with pale, maudlin blue eyes, wide awake baby on her hip emerged from the house.

 

Together we ascended the stone stairs and crossed the threshold into a darkish, cozy kitchen.  It felt intimate and brimming with life. Serena immediately spotted the baby’s bouncy seat, and brazenly demanded to climb in and press all the musical buttons.  Into the kitchen wandered a little boy, not too much bigger than Serena, wearing only a t-shirt. Rippling streams of Italian conversation filled the small kitchen as I stood receptive and shy.

 

They gave us tiny cups of their homemade yogurt to sample.  Then the man and his pants-less boy escorted us through the charming, wild garden to a dark barn, guarded by a silver horse.  Giordano fed the majestic guardian one of the fallen apples he had foraged for the cows on our walk through the garden. In the barn, five cows eagerly licked the remnants of their breakfast from the feeding trough.  Giordano offered them the remaining apples, which they gladly devoured. Their udders were small and freshly emptied. I petted each of their wide, soft faces, marveled at their massive strong bodies and wondered how I can eat beef and live with myself.  

 

We left the barn and meandered around the back side of the house, into a basement room, where giant slabs of dead pig hung from the ceiling.  Our kind host showed us a hutch filled with rounds of homemade cheese. But not enough to sell, they said.

 

Back in the house, our host offered us coffee, “strong enough for Mexicans”.  As I was neither Mexican, nor in need of excessive jacking up, I declined. Giordano accepted.  The ample, lactating queen of the castle brought us a large plastic water bottle filled with that morning’s milk, which they insisted was a “gift”.  We schmoozed a bit more before exchanging friendly goodbyes. “Ciaos”, actually.

 

The drive back to the main road didn’t seem nearly as long and daunting.  

 

Not too far down the main road, we arrived at a (relatively) more commercial  farm, where Giordano bought some fresh mozzarella and ricotta. Serena was thrilled to see long lines of holstein cows fiercely committed to munching massive piles of hay.  The smell of cow shit filled the warm, humid air.

 

We hopped back in our little Fiat (who runs on propane) and traversed more windy roads, in pursuit of MORE CHEESE.  Haha. This time it was another family home. A friendly man with a full, grey beard, shining eyes and strikingly short denim shorts greeted us, along with two small, eager dogs.   He and Giordano exchanged some friendly words and then the man led us into his kitchen, which was flooded with sweet, buttery aroma. A woman with short, grey hair, joyful eyes and a german accent greeted us.  Monica. Though she wasn’t “fat”, her “extra” suggested her love of baking and partaking. She was rolling out greasy cookie dough. Her teenage daughter, exuding a modest presence, sat at the far corner of the table, spreading some kind of chocolate goo on toast, making intermittent crunching music.  

 

Serena was dying for a cookie.  To my relief, they weren’t ready yet.  Poor thing. I wish I’d never let her eat a cookie… or even watch a show in which they ate cookies.  Because Pandora’s box is officially OPEN.

 

I felt my aura tucked close to my body as I spoke with effulgent Monica (in english) about simple things like her love of baking, her grandchildren in Germany, her daughter’s longing to get a nose piercing.  She pulled a small, homemade calendar from the wall and beamed as she showed us photos of her children and grandchildren. She promised Serena a raincheck on cookies, which she even threatened to deliver to our doorstep on her way to town one day.  

 

We eventually left with a huge round of sharply scented sheep cheese.  

 

The heat of the day was now upon us.  Our meandering morning outside of time suddenly came to a jarring halt.  We still had an errand to run in the town of Assisi. I felt hungry and aware  that Serena’s nap time was approaching faster than was convenient.

 

Hence we embarked on another epic leg of our day’s journey, which included driving through the stunning center of Assisi (OMG, I can’t believe I live a stone’s throw from such an ancient, mythic “destination”), spending “hours” in a massive store, in (fruitless) search of a mosquito net to protect us as we sleep (Serena is getting devoured every night and my heart aches each time I look at her sweet face, dappled with inflamed, red bumps.)  Exiting the belly of said store, ravenous. Resigning to eating lunch out, even though money is feeling uncomfortably scarce. Climbing to the highest hill in Assisi, to a restaurant overlooking the Whole World, owned by two brothers who press Giordano’s olive oil. Everything in their restaurant is organic, and mostly grown and made by them. Even the flower in the hearty, country bread and pungent, buttery blue cheese.

 

I could write a whole story about lunch.  But I don’t feel like it. My body craves yoga.  And the moral of this story, is that in Italy, “going to get milk and cheese” is not a minimal, colorless endeavor.   It is a weighty, relational Happening, which requires half a day and fully awakened senses.

Let it be noted.

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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.

 

On Romantic Love and Partnership

Who needs earthquakes, when the tectonic plates in my very BEing are making their own dramatic shifts?!

Back in January, I remember the feeling of self-satisfaction as I unabashedly spoke my birthday wish aloud to my circle of luminous-hearted women– to “create my own wealth and success and never need a man to save me again”…

Or something like that.

And now, six more moons of sand in the hour glass, and I don’t even recognize the woman who sang such a wish.  The world inside me has been destroyed and reborn… a few times over.

As I mentioned before, when I got to the Bay Area, I was *lovingly* pummeled by the reality that this is NOT a place for a single mom of a two year old.  At least if she actually wants to BE with her two year old.

A couple of weeks ago, I stood still at an OVERT fork in the road.  One Path was sensual massage– this was the way of the woman who “does not need a man”.  A woman who is fiercely committed to doing it alone. An activism against the engulfing swampish mess of fairytale fantasies she was indoctrinated with, since forever.  

The other Path was a winged leap of faith to the romantic land of Italy, where lives a man who deeply loves said woman and her daughter and wishes to help and support Her as she builds her dreams and lives her LOVE for the wellbeing of ALL.  

The best choice seems obvious from here.

But from the perspective of the woman who made a birthday wish for sovereignty and independence… turning to a man for support appeared weak.  

I chose that “weak” Path.

In a flash came a call from the goddess Dianne- diehard Athena Grace fan from Australia- to tell me that my choice was POWERFUL.  That opening my heart to the love and devotion of a Partner is something I deeply deserve.

All the ingredients that Life has tossed in my pot, has incited some serious soul searching and reconfiguring.  Pure Alchemy.

From my vantage point in THIS now, I see that my fierce stand for independence was a reaction to my early wounding.  Abandonment by my father. And especially the ensuing *crippling* experience of codependency in Relationship. Anybody who is working to untangle from codependency KNOWS how fuckin sucky the shit is.  

And yet… the longing for Partnership still sings from the depths of my soul.  

I want you to hear and feel the powerful experience that it was for me to sit with these choices in the silence and stillness of my very own soul.  And the healing of feeling my deepest desires and knowing emerge from my guts… beyond the concepts that I had cocooned myself in to protect me from the pain of not being chosen.  Not being fully met. Being seared in the fires of sacred disappointment.

No.  I do not want to sell my sexual energy for hella pretty pennies and call it “empowerment”.  I want to plug it into a contained space of boundless intimacy and devotion. I want to die and be born in the fire of sacred surrender and intimate communion with ONE entirely committed, delicious Man.  

AND I don’t want to get pulled out by a riptide of unconscious, habitual behavior, into the violent waters of codependence.  

Enough drowning.  This bitch can SWIM.

So I sit in the question of “How do I do this differently?”

Life has shown me that the nuclear family model is a booby trap unto itself.  At least for a Visionary Trailblazing System Buster such as Yours Truly.

And yet, I long for the intimate containment of One Beloved.

My dear friend Quynh has helped me to realize the possibility of abiding in a more porous container.  Where Partnership is able to breathe and swirl with a “village of Lovers”. (and when I say “lovers”, I do not mean “people that I have sex with”… I mean people with whom I share love and intimacy.  And when I say “intimacy”, I mean SEEING and BEING SEEN in and as The Depths.)

I WANT TO DO THINGS DIFFERENTLY THAN I HAVE IN THE PAST.

In the past, in my Relationships with a capital R, I have been lay-zay.  I have opiated myself with the insulated comfort of having a built-in source of connection… at the expense of my other friendships.  I have used our little nesting box as a place to hide. In time, I become so stifled by the confines of my self-imposed cage, that the *seeming* only solution is to smash it and walk away.  

What will it take to generate the deep fulfillment that I long for in Relationship?

Two things light up inside me when I ask this essential question:

#1~ Keeping the relationship porous to community.  ONE PERSON CAN NOT BE EVERYTHING FOR ANOTHER. It takes a village to nourish an individual.  This eliminates the crippling, mountainous load of half-blind expectations that we tend to pile on our Partner.  (Should I speak for myself??? Nah. I am speaking to the Collective. This is some deep programming, and although it is deeply personal to my Path, it is NOT “MINE”.  I am only experiencing it in order to help bust the system.)

#2~ Higher Purpose/Co-creation.  Devoting a Relationship to a higher purpose gives the immensity of love cultivated somewhere to plug in and FLOW.  Otherwise it gets pent up and stagnant. And BORING. I am here to invoke and awaken Heaven on Earth. A world infused and informed by/with Unity Consciousness.  This separation, scarcity, survival, fear, isolation shit is overrated.

There is definitely more to it than this… like cultivating trust, consistent deep sex as a spiritual practice, daily truth telling and deeep listening…

God I want to to succeed and master the art of Intimate Partnership.  It is a lifelong endeavor. I am alight with dancing passion as I embark on this next chapter of learning, sharing and sacred exploration.  

Stay tuned.

And please share~ What are your secrets of success in the realm of Relationship?  Where do you get stuck? What are your deepest Desires? Don’t be stingy with your Wisdom and your Longing.  That’s so nineteen eighty nine.

Living A Riveting Opera

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On this virginal, dawning day, it is not the first words that I commit to the empty page that matter the most, it is the deeep, slow breath which precedes them.  Said breath was essential, because the World inside me is so thick with vines, intricate root systems and underbrush…. My breath is my machete. Slicing to the heart of the jungle within.

 

Life never ceases to blow my mind… with its genius capacity to direct, orchestrate, inspire.  Doors swinging open and slamming shut.

 

Ten days ago,  I wrote you a love letter from  hell…. Since then, I have been desperately groping at the cryptic, mystic contours of infinite space, where inner and outer environment swirl, bleed, blur… endeavoring to make “sense” of it…. find Due North… Discover a secret moonlit path that sings against my bare, sentient feet.  

 

I have scattered fist-fulls of seeds into the wind… eager to discover which ones will, by God’s Grace-laden intelligence, nestle their way into fertile earth, and sprout into a new and clear direction.  I made a profile on a dog walking/sitting website. Refreshed my profile on urbansitter (the local nanny-placement site). Offered my services of copy writing to heart-centered women entrepreneurs.

 

Almost nothing has come back to me.  Except for a full time nanny gig next week, which pays less than I vowed I would give my time for.  But I took it, because at this point, earning any money trumps making none. Look out ten hour days with Serena AND an energetic two and a half year old boy…. Here come the Graces!… God help us.

 

Something I need you to understand about me…. Is that this is how I grew up.  At Serena’s age, my mom was “doing it alone” amidst the unsaybly expensive Bay Area hustle.   For way too long, I hated her for making that choice. I thought it was totally dumb for her to choose the most expensive spot in California to settle and struggle daily to survive with a young child.  This often involved leaving me in sketchy daycares and with babysitters who frightened me…. And sometimes leaving me alone too. Yes, even at age three, or maybe even two. (I forgive you Mom.)

 

Now Life has guided me back here to soften me with compassion and a deeper cut of insight regarding her choices.  There is no place like the Bay Area. Marin in particular. So much creativity, consciousness, stunning natural beauty.  My friend Samantha took us to the San Francisco zoo on thursday, and my soul *exploded* as we crossed the mythic Golden Gate Bridge, and then traversed the breath-giving coastline that led us to the literal edge of the World.  Endless, white-waving ocean. Unlimited cool, vivifying air to drink deep of and seduce titillated skin. I could lose myself in descriptions of the specialness of this place that I was blessed to spend the weighty majority of my thirty eight years on planet earth.  But I have too much more to say. Guess you’ll have to wait for the ebook. Haha.

 

My  naive surface mind imagined that I was coming back to The Bay to step into deeper relationship/family with Ed.   And that gave me enough solace and courage to leap as my Inner Being directed. But upon landing, I quickly (crushingly) realized this was not the case.  Ed is still fiercely committed to his Other Life. We have only seen him twice in three weeks. I’m sure he would wish that I offered you his extremely valid justifications for this.  But since Athena Graceland is MY domain, I shant. Instead, I will testify that I am delighted to be free this time, for what deeply feels to be “for realz”.

 

Back in January, I made a super-duper-neo-feminist birthday wish- to rise phoenix-goddess-style- in my own Dreams and Life- in abundance and success- and NEVER NEED/WANT A MAN TO SAVE ME AGAIN.

 

But now here I am flailing in the crushingly expensive and perversely indifferent currents of Bay Area economy… Desperately sewing seeds in the way of survival… and unflattering truth be told…. I could REALLY go for a Savior right about now.

 

Giordano.

 

I was sure that we were finished.

 

But HE wasn’t.

 

He has been unrelenting in his communication with me.  Unwavering in his love and desire to be a family with me and Serena.  And little by little, my defenses have eroded. Truth is, I mostly, I kept them intact for Ed.  But the days of “for Ed” are dead.

 

On thursday, Giordano told me he was concerned for me.  My flippant reply was “Haha you wanna save me?”….

 

“Sure.  I will.”

 

At first, I only snickered.  

 

But he was evocatively sincere.  

 

So I put the option of taking Serena and flying to his pristine, sprawling, olive tree laden land in the hills above Assisi into the hopper and let it simmer with the rest of my sacred, illuminated mess.  

 

My body still reverberates with sparkling desire when I think of him.  As flawed as he is, his love and desire to be with me and Serena has NEVER wavered since we met in September of last year.   Even after I locked him out of my house and left him high and not-so-dry in driving spring rain… Coldly endured the heart-bludgeoning music of him crying outside my door.

 

My Ma loved to imagine my life as an Opera.  No, not a cheap-assed Soap Opera! A genuine, bonafide OPERA.  And the artistic, elegant, heart-wrenching musical saga weaves ON.  

 

I fear that Ed might throw daggers for me choosing to fly to Italy in August…. But… Fuck him.  If he doesn’t want to create safety and sanctuary for “the love of his life” and his own daughter… Onwards and upwards.

 

I thought I was coming to the Bay Area to follow my dreams.  To grow a business and BE SOMEBODY. But upon cruel meeting of rubber and road… suddenly it looks way more alluring to be held and supported as I care for my daughter with presenc and devotion.  To ditch the concrete and wifi and chemically treated water and return to the pristine vibrance and bounty of Mother Earth. Night sky pulsing with unbounded spray of stars.

 

To go where Orgasmic Meditation and deep sex flow like wine and rivers.

 

And perhaps fulfill my dream of raising a bilingual child.  

 

We’ll see.  I’m getting us one way tickets.  I could be back faster than a blink… or perhaps I’ll never leave.  Life is a Goddamn Mystery, people!!!!

 

I find it utterly hilarious that I’m opting to be saved… after my bold birthday wish….

 

But #1~ Single parenting in this broken world is crushing.  Plain and simple.

 

And #2~ Nothing is black and white.  I will continue to walk my Path no matter what I choose.  Continue to drench you with my heart-stained words… and offer my light and love to this world.  But my daughter comes first.

 

Oh, and #3~ Giordano keeps invoking his dream of co-creating magic.  Working together to build something of value for others in the way of Light.  

 

It’s definitely worth a shot!

 

With ever-scorching honesty and huge LOVE from Graceland,

Athena LMONP

The Dawning of the Age of Athena Grace

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Hello from my new world.  Not to be confused with The New World… but that is on its way.  I promise. You know, the World where unity consciousness is a given, and Love leads the Way for ALL.  I live for this emerging World. Alas, I still shed tears for the oceans and the landfills brimming with carelessly discarded plastic, grapple with dark-carved shadows of money fear, and annoy my closest friends with my obsessive confusion on the scorching topic of romantic love.  

But I totally digress because I just meant to tell you that I’ve landed in Terra Linda.  The name makes me snicker, since it means “Beautiful Earth”, or something along those lines… a funny name for a suburban sprawl.  (Though I guess to its credit, it IS surrounded by dryer than Thou, rolling brown hillsides, dappled with an occasional bushy green spot otherwise known as a “tree”.  

From the forest to the burbs.  

I’m not kidding.  There is a shopping mall like five blocks away from where I sit, feverishly typing my enchanting little Life into existence.  With a Macy’s and a Safeway and stuff.  A street light bleeds through the gap in my curtains at night.   The view from my deck is a slice of sky cut with a tangle of power lines.  There’s not a ton of traffic on our lane, but when I awoke last night, heart pounding, from a nightmare that I had prepared an intentional, loving meal for Ed, his wife and a few others, and Ed and his wife disappeared into another room, abandoning the party… I did experience occasional cars driving by, flooding my sweet, littl bedroom in washes of light.  

It’s a different world.  “On paper”, it appears a tragic downgrade.  But in real time, this slice of Life has a heart and a pulsing soul.  I am so happy to be with Karen and her ten year old daughter, Sasha. And their eight pound ball of divine, K9 enthusiasm, Pepper.  

With a single sweep of God’s Infinite Hand, Serena and I have a family!  And not one of those defective, nuclear jobs, either. A fat, juicy, unconventional one, with waaaay too much love to fit into a single word, sentence, paragraph or page.

Serena is thrilled to have a big sister!  She follows Sasha around like a smitten puppy. She thinks Sasha is the shizz.  And she izz. Sasha is kind, brilliant, creative, beautiful, fun, joyful, silly…..

Just like her mom.

I hadn’t even seen my room when we pulled up to our suburban palace with a car full of stuff.  I just rolled the cosmic dice, ready for anything. But gosh, I love it.  It’s sorta small. But the ceilings are high, and it is full of LIGHT, which happens to be my middle name, and the most essential nutrient in my diet.  Plus it has mirrored closet doors that make it feel more spacious. Plus Plus, it has sliding glass doors onto its own private, covered deck… so it’s like having a whole nother wing.  

Now, if only I could channel the spirit of Muhammad Ali, I’d be Golden.  I always think of him in mOMents when self-doubt creeps in. That muther fucker never entertained even a single shred of doubt.  He fixed his mind on being a Champion. Period.

The radiant, heavenly blessings of my new life are laced with a steady drone of dark, thick survival-based fear.  How will I earn the money I need to survive or better yet THRIVE in this chapter of the Good Book of Athena Grace?  

I came here to give it ALL to my luscious, beaming dreams.  But don’t dreams take time to build? Meanwhile, my car has a constant thirst for fossil fuel.  My body and my daughter, a constant need for high quality, organic food. Serena and I require shelter and recreation and clothing…  

I want my Mama.  

I want my mind and will to be as streamlined as Muhammad Ali’s.  

I want to be as driven, creative, outrageous, unstoppable and RICH as Madonna.

I want to be as turned-the-fuck-ON and surrendered to Life as Nicole Daedone.

I want to be as REAL and inSpiring and expressive as Athena Grace!!!!!

I can do it.  I AM doing it.  God’s got my back.  Right God? Please don’t drop me God.  I am PRAYING that these hella pretty wings actually WORK.  I am praying that I actually DO have everything I need inside me…. and it’s not just  a lovely-sounding, though hollow notion.

I’m intentionally not going to talk about Relationship, even though it is plaguing me like an infected thorn.  I’ll just let it fester silently. And maybe, like magic, the poison will become medicine. (I’ll save that ever-compelling topic for my upcoming podcast!!!  Stay tuned.)

Instead of wasting virtual space in that endless, exhausting tail chase, I will affirm and celebrate my inevitable success.  I will call upon my badass, unapologetic, spiral-galaxy-invoking, demon-destroying, LOVE-LIVING, hella well dressed, delicious smelling, rich bitch Future Self.  

I open up and let her step IN.  To this body, this breath, this Now.  

I’m the greatest thing that ever lived!  I’m the Queen of the World! I’m a baaaaaad Woman.  I’m the prettiest thing that ever lived. (Incase you’re totally out of it, that was me channeling Muhammad Ali.  Grin.)

And now for some deep breaths as I relax into this stunning, unbounded, streaming, brilliant Becoming.  

This is the Dawning of the age of Athena Grace.

Hey God…

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Hey God, I need to talk to you.  I know you’re listening… even if my own BEing is too much of a perpetual chaotic swirl to hear or feel you listening, let alone responding.  But just knowing that you are listening is ENOUGH.

 

I’m scared today, God.  Can you refresh my memory as to WHY you are sending me and Serena back into the expensiver than Thou, outrageously chaotic, painfully paved, relentless traffic, screaming wifi lands of the Bay Area?

 

Because I wanted to go?  Is it THAT simple? Never.  And Who infused me with said want, anyway?  Maybe we should have waited until October. When the first hints of chill creep back into the air, and the Enchanted Yuba River no longer lures with the same siren song….  Shouldn’t we have spent one more summer nestled in the verdant, jungly folds of Balarama’s “Prana Gardens”, plucking sun-warmed, candy-sweet cherry tomatoes from their vine? And what about those shiny, black, bursting berries that Serena and I have been dreaming of with every rain…. Imagining the blessed water soaking into the earth, being voraciously slurped by aggressively purposeful roots who prepare in secret to bust out the sweetes, most resplendent little jewels.

 

Am I going to feel MORE ALONE amidst the urban sprawl…. Surrounded by infinitudes of “important people”, ceaselessly doing “important” things….?  I think that’s my greatest fear.

 

No, actually being able to earn enough money to survive (but God, I’d waaay rather THRIVE) there is my greatest fear.  And yes, I know it’s not “spiritually hip” to run on and on about fears. But I’m over being spiritually hip. I just want you to hear me and LOVE me, God.  And reassure me that you won’t drop me. Ever. And if I fall, you’ll pick me up and hold me closer than ever. That’s what a Mother does for her child.

 

I want community.  I have plenty of friends, all the fuck over the Bay Area…. But good Lord… how much expensive fossil fuel will I have to burn in my ancient, twenty-two-miles-to-the-gallon little Subaru, “Venus Ray”, if I want to bask and bathe in the grace of everyone’s luminous company?  

 

Will you help me make friends in my neighborhood?  Not that I’m tossing the oldies but goodies aside… just seeking calm, rejuvenative balance in my Life.

 

A recurring image flashes in my mind’s eye when I’m reflecting on my Path…. I see myself blindfolded, in total darkness… groping about the contours of my environment… feeling for doors and windows… seeking one that opens when I exert focused will.  

 

And when I find an opening, I know it is my Destiny to be brave and step across the Threshold, into the mysterious world therein.

 

The door into my new Life* in the Bay Area flung the fuck open for me.  No questions asked. Within less than a week of declaring my intention to leap… it was like “Yeah Bitch*, walk on through!”  So…

 

This Royal Bitch is walking on through.  Trust-walking. But not without a shadowed underbelly of apprehension.

 

And now for a few words on Bitch* and Life*.  

 

I like the word “Bitch”, because it is evocative.  Too often, it gets a bad rap. It is construed as a wicked insult to women.  But that’s so thoughtlessly mainstream, if you ask me. Deep within every woman, lives a bitch.  Fierce, venomous and unapologetic. But we have been domesticated to the point of near apocalypse.  We have been programmed to dull our own swords, walk in straight lines and keep our legs pressed together.  We have been hypnotized to fear and reject our own dimensionally vivifying, evocative and intelligent shadows.  Fuck that.

 

And LIFE.  To me, “Life” and “God” are synonyms.  Life is God’s profound, undulating body.  Life is how we touch, feel, know God. And therefore, our Selves.  Sure, God’s Queendom of Infinity extends Beyond all that which is that which we know as Life.  But if you think about it, LIFE itself stretches Beyond that which we “know” as Life….

 

Can I truly REST inside the God-ness that IS this Life I AM?  

 

As I posed that fluorescent, flame-dancing question, I became immediately present to tension in my body.  The tension of bracing myself against the Unknown. Bracing myself against the inevitability of the death of my body.  And in a flash was the knowing that trust emerges in a single mOMent, as the willingness to RELAX, surrender all tension.  

 

Oh, I’m celebrating this Revelation with a deeeeep breath!!!

 

God, thank you for Being Here.  For Listening. For breathing me.  For filling me with just enough wisdom and insight to navigate THIS MOMENT.  That’s plenty.

 

Sincerely,

Athena Grace

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