Slaying Dragons with Toothpicks

Remember back in the late eighties when baby Jessica fell down the well… and a massive search and rescue party spent days or maybe even weeks trying to get her out?  (Yes, I came from one of those mainstream households where the sun rose and set by the light of the television profusely spewing news, and we were all (pathetically) “abreast” of what THEY prescribed we should be…. Talk about a past life within a life.)  Anyway, I was just jogging through the woods (for the third time in the two years Serena has been with me), and I realized that I too, have lost my Best Friend down a cruel, dark well.  Except nobody sent a search and rescue party for my darling, linguistically portrayed dimension of Athena Grace.  Frown.

October first was the date I posted my last blog entry in here Athena Graceland.  Today is December first.  For all you math retards out there, that’s TWO WHOPPING MONTHS.  Ask me if that’s “OK”… Ummm, nope.  It’s really not.  In a way, this free-wheeling, journal-esque blog seems frivolous.  But peel back the cheap plastic wrap of seeming, and you’ll see that I am here making love to myself.  I am here realizing my Existence.  Befriending myself in a way that is healing and even essential.

This morning, Serena is with her beloved, stand-in-grandma-friend for two massive/fleeting hours…. and it’s a rare and hella sacred interlude, where I do not have to be a survival driven hussla, shackled to making a dirty buck.  Two holy hours.  And a gentle, humming desperation as I deliberated on how to spend them.  But I’ll tell you ONE thing– there’s nothing like being the single mom of a two year old to spur a bitch to master time management!  So I opted to jog through the cool, marmalade sunlit forest, and then, yerba mate in hand, slowly explode on this ecstatically empty page.  Although now, it is ecstatically filling with gorgeous fluidity and understated pleasure.

Actually, this is the happiest mOMent of my life.  And just for the record, I WAS gonna write my “article”… for Rebel Priestess Magazine…. about alternative parenting.  It will be about my journey as a single mama.  Entitled, “From Victim to Victory”… I will brazenly share about how goddamn seductive it is to feign victimhood as a single mom… It’s like this dumb card that I get to ostentatiously wave around at the world… so that the masses will take pity on me for all that I have to do by my poor, withered and wasted self.  A masturbatory stigma…. that somehow makes me feel…. like somebody, I guess.

But then…. all I have to do is flip a switch in my mind…. turn on a little “mood lighting” inside my psychedelically persuaded perceptions…. And suddenly my identity flips on her brilliant head.  Like the hottest magic, I am empowered, abundant, triumphant, resourced.  The truth is, without Serena, I would be aimlessly wandering the slums of Graceland.  And with a man up in the mix, I would be dependent and disempowered, perpetually choking myself on the short, cruel leash, as I devoured rotten scraps from his fat, sweaty palm. (C’mon, just let me indulge in superlative drama!!!  This is MY DAY.)   The journey into single motherhood has demanded that I dig fuckin DEEP and claim my power in a way I never would have, had I had a partner holding my helpless little hand.  That’s not to say I don’t want a partner.  I do.  And I will have one.  Serena’s dad.  He’s *finally* separating from his wife.  For real.  We will be together in a year.  But I need(ed) this initiation before I was ready to board the Partner-Ship and cruise the cosmos, family style.  Because of this rigorous initiation, I will do it from true sovereignty.  Not from need.  Not from ancestrally informed autopilot.  I am nobody’s bitch, Bitches!!!!!

Whoa.  I didn’t know I was gonna write all that.  What I was intending to say, is that I was planning to invest my few, fleeting moments of Me Time writing said article.  For which I’d feel so damn important.  Like, “Look at me!  I’m sooo cool… I know what the hell I’m talking about and I write ARTICLES.”  The notion of being “Important” makes me salivate, honestly.  And it cracks me up at the same time.  But as I was jogging through the forest, breathing heavy and carving through forsaken layers of my own mostly delicious thoughts, I realized that blogging is how I befriend myself.  And at once, I knew that this was way more crucial than being “Important”.  At least for today…

Day after day, as I pour my whole self into raising Serena alone, I feel mostly crushed by the excruciating weight of my dreams.  Yes, people, FINALLY, at the age of thirty seven and eleven months, my Dharma, my Destiny, my Dreams are coming into crisp, lucid focus!  But the irony, is that I could contain the amount of spare time I have in a crystal thimble!  Every day, I aim to move forward and get my women’s circles way the fuck OUT into the world– clarify my Vision statement, work on my website, write relevant articles and blog posts….  But mostly I FAIL!!!!!!  Mostly my life revolves around an artistic weave of bacon scavenging and meeting Serena’s gorgeous needs, which I should NOT be whining about.  She is a fountain of joy-full, creative, awe-struck, unfiltered Existence!!!!  But sans adequate self-care (a concept I once upon a time took frivolous delight in snubbing and snarking at….),  I find myself all too often, a depleted pile of anxiety, anger and sprawling frustration.

I mean it would seem “logical” that maaaaybe if I can’t even do an uninterrupted half-a-blessed-hour of yoga, take a hot bath or WRITE A FRIGGIN BLOG, that it might be INSANE to believe that I can take over the world and generate a prolific culture of empowered, deliciously embodied women leaders who stand up together in authenticity, vulnerability, unleashed and spiritually aligned Desire…. and collectively call forth a fucking fabulous, harmonious, peaceful, turned-ON, co-creative world.   Yeah.   Mostly it feels like trying to slay a dragon with a toothpick.  Dumb, right?  WRONG.  Because I’m gonna slay the flame-breathing beast.  I am.  And then I’ll stand atop the mountain, gloriously penetrating the heavens with my blood-stained toothpick…. and rightfully feeling like a badass Master of the Yoniverse.

And then I’ll take a decadent bow, and keep right on dreaming and doing in the name of LOVE.

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Sacred Agitation by Moonlight

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For how many revolutions of our dream team of heavenly bodies can one speak to the first haunting whispers of autumn creeping in through my wide-splayed windows while I sleep at night…. or the ever-evocative, luminous, pale-gold ball, swan diving in slomo toward the silhouetted, pre-dawn horizon?  It’s all been said.  Still, it always begs saying.

Autumn’s arrival always draws melancholy to the surface of my heart.  Bidding farewell to my life-long besties, Heat and Light.  So scarce now, are remaining liberated nights of naked, sensuous, blanket-less slumber, or waking to perfectly warm mornings of outdoor, scantily clad yoga practice.  Time to pump up the volume on my anxiety as to how the fuck I will manifest two chords of firewood to heat my hOMe all winter.  Yes, I know anxiety is not the be-all, end-all… but it seems to be an inevitable facet of my wiring…. and I no longer have a mama to tell me to take a chill pill.  Well… maybe she’s calling out to me from the Astral Plane…. I shall pause and listen, because I need a copious dose of her laid-back Libran medicine right about now.  And Ma… since you have boldly proclaimed yourself my Guardian Angel at this stage of the Journey, PLEASE bring me two chords of firewood.  And a tall, quenching, golden challise of Holy Water, with which to swallow said “chill pill”.

I only wrote one lone blog while traveling in Costa Rica last month…. And rather than being a poetic celebration of Mother Nature’s verdant, tropical resplendence, or the gentle ecstasy of marinating in spanish… it was about my daughter’s constipation odyssey, and the devastating havoc it wreaked on my psycho-emotional wellbeing.  What can I say….?  It was a soul-stretching and rigorous month of losing control, coming undone and too much practice holding my own deeply sensitive inner child.  Laced with many beautiful and ordinary moments of this under-cover-divine business of Life-Living.  One of the greatest gifts was my swollen happiness to come home.  A fresh, passionate embrace this sprawling, blessed ordinariness.  Since I’ve been home,I feel like a drunk puppy, ecstatically writhing in a dusty heap of opulent, mundane quietude.

I just looked up the word “mundane”, wondering if it was actually a Cinderella’s glass slipper-fit to what I was aiming to communicate:

adjective

1.

common; ordinary; banal; unimaginative.

2.

of or relating to this world or earth as contrasted with heaven;worldly; earthly:

mundane affairs.

I love the word mundane… It always tickles me, because it possesses a trace of fib.  Here in Athena Graceland, even the most eyeball-gouging ordinariness is laced with Heavenly Sparkle.  It is inescapable.

Like last night, for example.  Some might even classify it a “peak experience”….. Seriously.  I’m takin’ it to the grave.  Well, except I don’t feel the need to be embalmed, boxed and buried…. But I digress.  Darkness was quietly engulfing all the secret, overlooked, in-between spaces, as I gave Serena her final hit of “booba” for the night.  Satiated, she pulled off and began to wander the small expanse of my double bed.  It was getting late, so I offered her the requisite ultimatum, “Booby or bed,” to which she replied “Big Bear,” as she crawled between my legs and snuggled up next to the big, white bear who stowed away with KenPie while he was shopping for rugs for us at IKEA, once upon a time.  At first, I was frustrated, because I was exhausted and wished she would cooperate, so that I could brush and floss and flop into bed myself….

But Serena was so…. serene…. laying between my legs, delightfully snuggled up with Big Bear.  And then, she took hold of my index finger with her tiny, tender hand!  And just held on to me…. looking so peaceful and content.  The windows were wide open, and the air flowing in was extra thick and heavenly.  It carried the scent of dirt, sweet pine, (and a hint of fresh, impending death) as it had just rained a little.  I fought the urge to destroy the perfection of the moment by putting her in bed, reminding myself that it would all end soon enough… My tiny daughter would be a grown woman with her own compelling, urgent and unknowable Life.  Instead, I breathed, allowing my body to slowly melt in relaxation. In this deepened state of presence, I became aware of the sensations in my heart.  I marveled at the intricacies therein!  Seriously people… if my heart were a bottle of red wine, it would’ve been wicked expensive.  I felt notes of pure content and whispering joy… mingling with deep, raw ache for the irreparable break with Serena’s father… laced with heavy notes of grief as my heart bled for the still fresh and jarring absence of my own Mama.  It all felt so right and natural and harmonious, swirling about in my lucid heart space.  Each note so crisp, clear, distinctive.  Seemingly disparate… and yet… simultaneous and whole.  Dusk’s poetic depth settling on Serena’s little, peaceful face.

I continued to sit in this psychedelic puddle of grace-strewn Existence until Serena was well asleep.  Even though I was spent, I felt profoundly wealthy and full.  Then I scooped her up and laid her with sublime care into her pack n play bed, at the foot of my own.  I had the best night’s sleep I have had in too long to mention.

And now, I am here in this freshly autumnal, audacious-moon-lit darkness… feeling torn apart, churning, burning.  On one hand, I am flush with this very compelling strain of content.  But also a hissing whisper of desperation to BECOME.  To make more of my life.  I feel this Immensity… fiercely longing to be fully alive, engaged, expressed through me.  I want my fabulous gift with words to lift the minds and hearts of the masses and generate wealth for me and my daughter.  I want to be a bold, courageous and inspiring leader, inviting wild and wise women to rise up together and return this world to sacred balance.  I want to inhabit the lavish reality of having more than enough money, and the freedom this provides, to make choices from desire, vision and inspiration.

Sitting.  Breathing.  Feeling.  This sacred agitation.  As Light quietly floods the world.  Again.

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

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

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

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

 

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