Could That Day Be Today?

She drew in a deep assed breath as her fingers hovered taught as thoroughbreds ready to make their thunderous break upon the keys.  She prayed to be moved by beauty and truth, or at least seduced by whimsy, tickled by the mere fact of existence.  Her heart felt like a dried out, pulpy shell, like an orange that had given all of its juice and now sat, waiting to decompose and become once again one with the soil from whence its tree’s very roots had once suckled from the cool, earthy darkness, the very essence of its juice-drenched, fruitful prime.

All that to say, I have had a rough two days.  Rough enough that after a year and a half of not being sick AT ALL, I have come down with a minor though annoying head cold.  Honestly, I truly believed that I would never be sick again, because I don’t believe in sickness. (I still don’t.)  But in spite of that, whoops, I somehow slipped.  Thankfully, word on the street is that “rough” is the new beautiful.  I cried enough in the last two days to last me the whole rest of the year.  But as Reverend Muwatta loves to remind us, the deeper the pain, the greater the joy.  So I guess I have been doing some massive renovations in my heart.  Cool.  I mean my first response is certainly not to praise the hell that I have been flailing through… but you have to remember, I just came from church and at East Bay Church of Religious Science, that’s how we roll.

His Holiness!… I am having an experience that could almost be construed as writer’s block.  What is it?  Oh dear, suddenly, I just feel like crying, A-GAIN.  Because now that my mom reads my blog, I do feel a little inhibited.  I don’t mean to… I feel afraid of being misunderstood, judged, unloved… by everyone, actually.  I feel afraid of being boring.  (To me, that’s the worst thing in the world.)  Like what if I was just wasting my time here on the page, when really, I should just be an accountant after all.  That made me laugh inside.  Phew, a crack of light in an otherwise dark mind.  God, please guide my mind.  Let my mind and my heart be ONE voice.  And let this voice speak on behalf of humanity.  I am here, I am available.  I open myself to the light.  The problem with being available to the light is that I must relinquish preconceived notions of what the light’s expression through me “should” look like.

Really, I just want to talk about… I don’t know.  I’ve been so confused lately.  I suppose that a big theme in the macrocosm is massive genocide of the parts of us that no longer serve on our paths toward and through illumination.  Dying.  Dying.  Can the dying process truly be easy?  Can I just let go and let these old parts of myself fall away like dead skin cells lost forever to the dusty world at large?  Life has been changing me as Life does… and I have found myself suffering… I was gonna say, “suffering intolerably”… but obviously my suffering IS tolerable, since I am here to tell the gory tale.  But the idealist in me has a vision of death that is pure surrender and awe inspiring grace.  By the time I am ready to drift daintily out of this body, I want to do it with full presence, and an ease like slipping out of a satin gown.  I suppose this merely requires full trust in our Omnipresent Love Monkey Upstairs.

Co-dependence.  It’s not working very well in my moment to moment experience anymore.  I am feeling perpetually disappointed by Mykael.  But it’s not his job to be my continuous source of entertainment, love, listening and everything else that I require in order to be a happy, well adjusted human.  Oh fuck, I’m on the verge of tears again… because lately it has seemed like we haven’t been fitting together at all.  Which just confuses the fuck out of me.  I am spinning right back into the loaded question of the purpose of relationship.  WHY COMMIT???  Is it supposed to be this hard?????  But festering in the unknown of this inquiry is only causing me suffering… So I think I’d better just table the question for a little while and go hang out with my women friends more, commune with nature, serve others.  I’m pretty sure that I want to volunteer at a hospice.  Speaking of death.

I mean, honestly, what is more fascinating, rich and true than death?  People who are dying are teetering right on the edge of the Mystery.  And people who are teetering right on the edge of the Mystery…are REAL.  Also they need extra courage and support.  What is it to die????  I want to know.  What is it to LIVE?  What is it to love fully without condition?  Asking these questions, I suddenly feel my heart come alive.  My solar plexus, too.  I might just burst.

I wish I could be normal, like my friend Shelly.  She is living the quintessential American dream… except she’s actually present and awake to splash and bask in it… She has a career that is great service to many and she loves it, she is joyously married, pregnant with her first child (she was MADE to be a mother!!!), she and her man own their house in the mellow town of Bend, Oregon.  And get THIS~ both HER parents, and her hubby’s parents just moved to Bend to be close to their newest incarnation of family.  They basically magnetized their extended families (who they have great relationships with) right into their own back yard!  All of this blows my mind.  Like here I am down in Oakland, flailing around like a confused though wildly blessed mess, and meanwhile, she’s up in Oregon having the easiest, most loving and joyful time of life.  I wonder if a life like that would bore an artistic, poetic, cosmic explorer like me… I guess we all have our dharma and our karma and our Destinies…

I suppose if I could visualize the life I dream of living, I could certainly live it… but I’m so moody and whimsical that my fancies shift with the winds.  Sheesh, I just got up to pee and you know how I have a habit of dancing behind the closed bathroom door?  Well, today, I crumbled into a fountain of tears instead.  I guess it’s the same thing, really… a raw and unbridled expression of the heart.

And as much as all my outer world, ego visions change like weather, my thirst for God remains the same and that’s all that really matters to me anyway.  I just had some deep seated notion that some day, life would get easy.  I guess the day it gets easy is the day I choose peace.  The day that I am present and wide awake in wonder, reverence and gratitude.  Could that day be today????

Advertisements

My Mother’s Wisdom

Athena Grace LMNOP commin’ acha live from the school of mostly soft knocks.  (Mykael and I have a daily ritual where he reads my blog to me from his Iphone, usually after we finish up lunch.  Yesterday, when he read me the part about LMNOP, I laughed so hard, I think it even gave our very own God Almighty a start!  I laughed a laugh so deep and resonant that it shook the earth.  It sounded like sonic loafs of hearty bread cascading out of my mouth.)  Ahhh, for the love of soft knocks!  Lately the knocks have been on the harder side of soft.

Listen, I sorta hate admitting that I finally started my period just now… I mean I’m stoked, because I believe that bleeding is a blessed and wholly sacred occurrence laden with a power that is beyond intellectual comprehension… but in our culture, it is such a popular practice to dismiss a woman’s expression, with the flippant wave of the hand and an accompanying comment such as, “Oh, she’s probably just on her period.”  I’m guilty of it too… but I don’t want you to write me off this morning.  The way I see it, menstruation is a time of potent lucidity, which can be overwhelming sometimes… It’s like feeling the world at full blast volume, rather than as soft background music that you can only notice if you happen to know the song that’s playing, but otherwise its imperceptible.

Last night I zonked out at 9pm, but when Mykael got home at 10, I was suddenly wide awake.  He came in and kissed me, but then he left.  I’m not used to this.  Usually, he snuggles me to sleep.  Turns out, he didn’t want to wake me, but I perceived it as that he wanted to be in his own space.  So there I was, wide awake in the dark, feeling ABANDONED.  You might think I am being dramatic, but it brought up memories of being very young and home alone in bed in the dark… Suddenly, emotionally, I was somewhere between two and seven years old, feeling helpless and painfully alone.  I began to cry.  Sure, I could have just called out to Mykael… (or texted him, like I love to do when I’m laying in bed… I feel so Jetsons when I do it!)  But remember that I was living in a world where he didn’t want to be with me.  I was living in a world where my pain and aloneness were the most real and consuming facets of existence.  You have to understand that this experience was not an isolated incident.  It was piled on top of Mykael being mostly entirely otherwise occupied, between studying for his phat nursing exam, carving and being anxious, worried and afraid…

Makes being a co-dependant really challenging.  It’s like the rug has been pulled out from beneath my feet… which clearly is a blessing since co-dependency is for losers in the first place… But still… I am having a hard time feeling blessed.  Mostly I feel sad and unsure of why I am in this relationship in the first place… No, that’s not true… I have enjoyed finding other stuff to do with myself in the evening besides smoke pot, and curl up with my man either have sex, watch Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job, or the Office, or on the sweeter nights, both.  Instead, I have been reading books, writing, PLAYING MY HARMONIUM, walking to the grocery store at twilight… you know the kinds of things we used to do back in the good ole covered wagon days… All this time apart from Mykael is just what the doctor ordered… but then, being with him brings all my wounds right to the surface and I am finding it massively challenging to love through them.  I want to run away and deal with it later.  When I see myself behaving like a punishing, bratty child… it feels like the hardest thing in the world to love myself, let alone another.

So Mykael came into my room and held me, but I refused to “use my words” to tell him what was happening for me.  Usually, that is one of my strengths, since I am so self aware.  Not last night.  All I could do was sob and ache and pout.  How’s that for tantric?  …Sigh… Finally I sunk down under the restless waves of ache and was swallowed in the dark, respite of sleep.  Mykael stayed with me till after midnight.  I appreciate that.

When morning came, I was exhausted and depressed.  Usually morning is the time where I am all about catching worms and loving the fresh air, literally dripping with bird song.  I love my tea.   I love the lucidity of my mind.  Today though… I did not love.  So I called my mom.  Basically, she gave me an hour long dharma talk.  She said so many things that helped me refocus my heart and mind.  She spoke mostly through the lens of her own experience, her own luminous lessons over there at the ashram.  But naturally, it was all applicable to my world.  And I felt way more receptive to it, because there was not a single should involved… She jammed not a single spiritual ideal down my throat.

Holy God, I feel so boring this morning.  But I need to get this out.  Fuck, I should have done it different.  I felt so awesome about my entry yesterday.  I feel so angry at myself for not being brilliant today, but instead caught in the seemingly endless cesspool of my pain.  Is this forgivable?  Can I still be a successful, impactful, prosperous writer, even if I have to waste a perfectly good blogging day processing through my wounding?  Do YOU have these voices too?  Can I just let go and sob right here at Pizzaiolo?  (The prep cooks were attempting to hack apart an entire pig head this morning when I arrived… just for the record…)

Back to my mom’s wisdom.  I want to share with you the three most impactful ideas she shared with me.  The first one was she suggested that I go and serve others when I feel blue (and black).  Duh.  Seems obvious.  Especially for a saint in training.  But it’s easy for me to get caught up in the inertia of my self importance… Sometimes I fantasize about sitting with terminally ill children.  Can I do that?  How do I do that?  It makes me so sad to think about terminally ill children.  Children are supposed to have long lives ahead of them.  Can they even conceive of the idea that they will die soon?  What courageous beings they must be!  I could learn from them for sure.

The second gold nugget my mom bestowed on me was her own lesson of letting others be exactly as they are, without trying to change them.  She said she has been working on this since she got to the ashram a few years ago.  Her recounting of her own experiences with this lesson shed plenty of light on my habits of constantly trying to micromanage Mykael and think I know who and how he should be.  He should eat more vegetables, exercise more, spend less time on the internet.  Fuck, as I write all that, I feel so convinced all of that is true… I guess then the question is do I want to keep choosing him for a partner in the face of those habits… Ask me after I finish bleeding…

And the third thing (!!!!!!!) (Yes, I’m especially enthused about this one) is the reminder to dedicate my actions to God.  I mean, I live like this sometimes… but it’s easy to forget and act like a self important pig headed jerk.  When my actions are dedicated to God, there is no expectation of any return, no competition… only the purification born of offering my self in the spirit of love and blessing.  And then concepts like “success” and “ambition” disappear in the simple act of being present and offering my best.  My mom said that not only does God LOVE like nobody’s business, but God also LOVES to BE LOVED (like nobody’s business!).  I didn’t realize this.  But it makes sense… I mean if I am made in All Pervading Dreaminess’s own image, and BOY DO I LOVE TO BE LOVED!!!, than it would naturally follow that God, too would expand and burst into a song of the Infinite upon receiving the love of Its Holy Children, such as yours truly.  Language gets so tricky when discussing such matters as Omnipresence.  I don’t mean to divide everything so clumsily…

The bottom line, the top line and the space in between the lines (not to mention then nonlinear components involved) is all a call to LOVE, to let LOVE inspire each newborn moment.