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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What Am I Standing For? (And Why?)

I was going to write another orgasmic spill of today’s cornucopia of revelatory blessings.  Jesus.  There have been a whole slew… again… I am constantly amazed at how much I love myself, respect myself and fall to my knees in reverence of this sacred mystery that is life.  Mundane old life.  The day to day, moment to moment, miracle to miracle ISness.  I just had an image of my life being lived in a giant aquarium… these other strange, mystical beings just keeping us all as trendy pets in this elaborate aquarium in the corner of their posh Chinese restaurant.  How cool would THAT be… if this whole serious life that we imagine we are living was just chic living artwork in a trendy asian fusion restaurant frequented by uber stylish great gods?!  That would put a whole other spin on our “problems”… wouldn’t it?  Nothing more than the sea horse taking bullyish bites out of the angel fish…

 

Problems.  Is it a problem that I just read my blog, “It’s the Full Moon Talkin’” to my WP and afterwards he told me that he felt exploited?  Yep.  That could be construed as a problem.  I was at his house.  The beautiful little open-air in-law unit that seems to breathe.  But he asked me to leave.  Just like that.  I requested that we dive deep and really share so that we can stay connected and get clear.  I stood tall and courageous, softening my body and my mind, coaching myself to embody openness (as opposed to the exhausting lose-lose cycle of defend and attack).  I felt the strength of all the work that Mykael and I did together~ relating and getting to the bottom of it… and his constant stand for me to stick with it in the face of discomfort… and though I felt plenty uncomfortable and it would have been easy to jet, I knew I was strong enough to stay in the fire and restore love, reach greater heights of understanding.  But WP refused to step forward and meet me.  He wanted only to be alone.  So I left.

 

He offered to give me a ride.  I said no thanks.  I gathered my full to bursting backpack and stepped out into the overt sensuality of four o’clock on a Sunday in Laughing Haena.  Boy did I feel confused.  So what did I do?  I dialed Mykael.  Interesting how HE is the one I have been choosing to go for clarity and strength in my moments of challenge, ache and confusion.  And I have not been disappointed.  I marvel at this.  We have been “broken up” for just under two months now… and already, the space between us feels so clean, clear and strong.  I realize that this makes us part of a miniscule percentage of the population.  Break-ups are “supposed to” be dramatic, punishing, intense.  Sure, we have visited all of those places.  But we did not stake our claim in any of them.

 

I share this with you, because I want to inspire you.  I want the masses to know that there is another way.  That your beloved can be an ally, a friend, someone who really KNOWS you.  Someone who is on your team.  You can raise each other up, even after you part ways.  I pray for all the world to know that this is an option… and to heavily consider choosing it.  It feels great.

 

He was the perfect person to call, after all… because HE of all people knows what it feels like to be written about by Athena Grace… he helped me explore this current “gristle” from many different angles, not just one fixed one.

 

Papaya break.  God the cold, coral colored flesh is so unapologetically erotic and sumptuous.  My back itches.  When I am rich and famous, I’m gonna hire someone to stand on call and scratch my back with my skin brush when it itches… which tends to be often.  This papaya went down like an “erster” (oyster).  So slippery and molten.  And the color was so deep.  Neither pink nor orange by any stretch of the imagi-Nation.  Nope.  The color was its own integris state.  And while I’m on this papaya break, I just HAVE to tell you about the woman who gave me a ride from Hanalei to Laughing Haena earlier today.  She was blasting the Metalica black album.  I LOVE that album.  (It reminds me of junior high and smoking pot for the first time with my tough head-banger friend Leah.  Her dad’s name was Vance.  He was a hell’s angel.)  I offered Patricia (she introduced herself immediately) a sip of my chai flavored yerba matte.  She said she was already high.  On what, I asked.  Church.  She replied.  Talk about an unexpected response.  FINALLY!!!! Someone to bond with about our passion for CHURCH.  And while singing along to “Enter Sandman” no less.  Life!  It makes me want to cry and cum and scream and laugh and die just so I can be reborn again.  Holy Popcorn.

 

Now back to our feature presentation.  (I just found a piece of chocolate stuck to my desk.  How in the heck did THAT get there???  I haven’t eaten any chocolate since I’ve been here.  Except on my date with the motorcycle man a couple weeks ago.  Weird.)  So my heart was aching and I was confused.  My actions had created this situation of WP feeling “exploited” and asking me to leave his home.  I do NOT want my writing to have this effect.  I want my writing to heal and elevate.  Don’t I?  I want my writing to REVEAL.  The shadows as well as the light.  Because I don’t believe we need to be afraid of our shadows… but instead be curious, fascinated, forgiving.  He had given me permission to write about him… as long as I didn’t use his name.  Did he feel embarrassed?  Did I portray him as a bad lover?  He’s not.  Having unsatisfying sexual encounters is a plenty familiar experience for me.  WP~ I take full responsibility for my dissatisfaction.  And I can live with the reality that not everyone digs cumming on a woman.  Probably there are even women who think bodily fluids are gross…?  Cheerleaders, maybe?  God.  It’s so hard for me to stay serious for more than a paragraph or two…

 

AHEM.  I guess there’s no point in my trying to GUESS what is going on for WP.  He’s a big boy.  He can tell me when he’s ready.  But in the meantime… I am looking deeply at myself.  Riding that razor edge between radical responsibility and not taking on other people’s trips.  This is a sloppy whopper for me.  A whopper with mayonnaise and mustard and ketchup and slimy tomato seeds dripping out the sides.  (I just watched the big gecko suctioned to the outside of my window stalk and snap up a bug!  Nice.  When he got it, I felt a win for the team!)  Where is my learning in this?  How do I maintain my commitment to transparency without negatively impacting others?  Is it inevitable that I will rub others the “wrong” way from time to time?  I remember when Nicole Daedone was coaching me she said something that hit me hard.  “People LIKE you… It’s easy to like you… because you’re not standing for anything.  When you DO stand for something, you’re going to have to accept that some people are not going to like you.”

 

Yes.  That’s true.  And this situation is evoking the question in me, of WHAT exactly AM I standing for?  And is it WORTH standing for?  Is it worth risking others feeling “exploited” (“to use selfishly for ones own ends”, according to dictionary dot com… Yikes. That’s harsh.)  These are good questions to ask.  I guess I’ll sleep on them.  In the mean time, I forgive.  I forgive myself for causing perceived pain in another.  I forgive my ignorance.  I forgive WP.  I forgive the illusion.  And I give thanks to the sensuous afternoon for embracing me as I walked out onto the jungle highway alone.  The air was heavy and soft, salty and saturated with the fiestily dancing ocean.  The sun’s light and warmth was subdued yet substantial.  And though my heart ached, I felt so held, wrapped in the dense beauty and goodness of everything.  Thank you All Pervading Beloved.

 

Amen.

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????