Our Lady of God Drunk Grace

“Today I rest in confidence that I am Divinely Guided!  Always in the right place at the right time, wide open to the fruition of my heart’s desires and my deepest life purpose in service to Love!”

 

This was the intention that I wrote in my journal in my Church built for One (in my bed) this morning.  Maybe that explains how I found myself sitting on a lava rock in the middle of a cool song of stream under a tall canapé of sturdy leaved trees laced with shy, beaming whispers of brilliant sunlight reaching adoringly into me.

 

After Church (Church… it’s not just on Sundays anymore…In Athena Graceland, it’s seven days a week, BABY!!!), I packed up and headed to Hanalei Bay for a jog and swim.  As always, this rocked my world so hard, I’m sure you could feel the aftershocks all the way over there in Whosville!  Holy Popcorn!  Who knew it was possible to feel so continuously, epically rapturous before nine am?!  And then I marched my rapturous ass over to Java Kai to kick some serious booty on the page.  I was all dressed in purple (including mascara) and rockin’ out to the danceable grooves as I ordered my tea~ one bag of yerba matte, one bag of rooibos!  Good golly is it a smokin’ combo!  I almost need a helmet to enjoy it!  Then I turn around and this young man creature is openly adoring me, which is not much of a surprise, really, because my effulgence is off the charts in this moment.  But nonetheless (the world’s stupidest word), I still feel flustered as I meet his wide open gaze.  But I have fun with the endearing tremors rippling through me. I squirm and giggle and lap up his nutritives attention.  Spencer is his name.  We share a hug and I melt.  Honestly, what’s better than a person who *really* knows how to hug?!?!  Nuttin.

 

Turns out Spencer is tight buds with Kam, the young light warrior, rock star who drove me to Laughing Haena last week and gifted me the green, dancing nymphs and the mother goddess.  Surprise, surprise.  Well, onwards and upwards, I get on with my writing, because I am a woman on a mission.  A mission to love herself, God and therefore the World through every single holographic word that spills out of her.  (Yes, even the clumsy, frightened, naïve, confused words… alchemy, baby!)  But I text Spencer and tell him I’m in love with him and can’t wait to see him again.  He invites me to the spring…???  What’s the spring, I ask…

 

It’s a fresh water spring, pouring out of the lush, rocky hillside near the end of the jungle strewn road on the Northern most shore.  Will he please grant me another half an hour of writing?  Yes, he says!  So I kick ass and feel satisfied as an accomplished writer and then he whisks me away to a series of the most epically beautiful, divinely infused little pockets of the entire universe. (and because I have already fulfilled my purpose as a devoted, disciplined writer, I am able to fully release myself to the “frivolous” gallivant at hand.)  Honestly, I don’t get out much.  Shrug.  I’m pretty content traversing the same well worn paths, even here on Kauai.  As long as I’m writing, swimming, getting my yoga groove on and eating clean, fresh, simple beautiful meals, I don’t seem to care about sucking up every single drop of island beauty through a God-sized straw… or DO I?

 

I guess I do… because I had the best day ever.  First he took me to the Blue Room~ this giant cave with a pool in it.  At a certain time each day, sunlight tip-toes into the cave and illuminates the water just so that the whole scene turns crystalline BLUE (not while we were there…but no complaints here…).  He primed me for the experience by telling me it would be a baptism.  So I stood inside the cool, dark, wide mouth of this epic, resplendent cave… bikini clad, eyes closed, summoning my prayer.  It poured straight into my wide open crown, dousing my mind immediately and then filtering down into the rest of me.  I prayed to release the guilt that has recently bubbled up to the surface of my heart.  I prayed to forgive EVERYTHING.  I prayed to release all barriers to Love.  And then I dove into the purifying liquid darkness.  Woosh!  Lucidity surged into every single cell of me.  Distant chanting wafted through the cave like incense smoke.  I glided through the water, opening myself wide to the holy fruition of my prayers.

 

As we climbed back up the steep embankment, reborn, I told Spencer about my personal pan Church.  He asked me what it was called.  I realized it had remained nameless thus far.  Blush!  How unlike me… I searched my mind for the name~ Our Lady of God Drunk… what?

 

“Grace!” He offered.  Duh.  Yup.  Our Lady of God Drunk Grace!  That’s the name of the Church I attend in bed each dawn.  How cool is that?

 

Then he took me to the aforementioned stream.  It was the quintessence of cathedral.  He asked if I’d mind if he wandered upstream and meditated for like fifteen minutes.  Dude… Men?  If you really want to turn me on… take me to places surging with sacredness and then go sit on a rock and meditate!  I followed his lead.  I selected the perfect pitted lava rock, nestled in mid-rushing stream, sat erect, closed my eyes and let the moment have me fully.  And it sure DID.  Vivid.  Sorry… there are NO words to describe the experience.  Clean?  Lucid.  PURE.  Pure comes pretty close.  Raw nature in full throttle ecstasy, unfolding my insides as one sacred, flowing center. Yup.  That almost touches it…

 

Next was the spring.  Yeah, totally dreamy… but don’t feel like regurgitating tons of details about it.  For Jesus’s sake… you must have been to a blasted spring before… and they’re nifty, indeed, right?  All I know is that as I take this holy water into my body, it is with the knowing that it is rinsing me clean and pure from the inside.

 

Then we went to Lumahai beach.  I’d never been there either.  Being in the water there was being in a vibrant, undulating, electric turquoise womb.  We jumped off a large, warm, black lava rock fifteen feet into the water.  Eeek.  I feel all these fresh sacred experiences saturating ever drop of me right now.  My skin is glowing with smiling sunlight and fresh squeezed peace.

 

We feasted on avocados who had plunged from their perches in the great tree eager kamikaze pilots and thumped climactically to the earth outside of Java Kai earlier in the day entirely in the name of our nourishment!  (I saw this cute little Japanese lady eyeing them and I gave her one.  She was SO delighted.  She said she LOVED avocados… but they cost like seven dollars each in Japan.  Simple joy.  It’s contagious.)

 

As if this is not enough bliss, I then met up with my delightful wizard friend, Jack who was dying to massage me and I laid in the grass in downtown Hanalei and melted under the startling expertise of his loving touch for like an hour as the evening sun smeared my lustful skin with unconditional warmth.  The warmth of the sun is about as God as it gets.

 

And the frosting on this All Pervading Cake of a day, was talking with my mom this evening.  I feel SO blessed to have a mom who is so… so what?  Such a joy to share life with.  Playful, sincere, appreciative, loving, creative, warm, silly, interesting, wise, caring, kind, devoted to her spiritual path… I think I’ll celebrate by posting a recentish photo of us from my june visit to her ashram!  Hazah!

 

All I know is that I am BLESSED.  And all else I know is that I want to pour myself out as honey all over this world, so that EVERYONE is hopelessly drenched in golden sweetness.  And so it IS!

 

Amen.

Advertisements

Kauai Sure Loves Me!

Sunrise over Hanalei Bay this morning as I jogged along the shore, BAREFOOT!

You know what’s AWESOME about Kauai?  I can leave the house in my panties and nobody thinks twice.  For real!  I did it today… It’s a very warm day (notice that I didn’t say “hot”, though… it’s not sweltering… just… very warm.) and I was wearing my little orange boy short style panties around the house when I was suddenly swept by the call of the wild and decided to hop on one of the bikes on the side of the house and pedal to the bakery to write my blog.  You see, like I said, the day is as perfectly sweet and tart and all liquid sunshine as a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice.  So naturally I wanted to splash around in this vitamin-packed blessing of contained time and space.  On my first day on the island, I saw a woman pumping gas at the Shell Station in her skimpy bikini.  She left a big impression on me.  “Oh, so that’s how we roll here in paradise,” I mused.

Well, my undies are far more conciliatory than her little stringy number was, (I am exaggerating when I say far more… but remember, I poses the proper [poetic] licensing.) so I skipped out of the house and rode into the benevolently embracing folds of the Mystery.  Holy Jesus, you need to understand that this day smiles on my skin with a pristine perfection that hasn’t been seen since the Goldy Locks and the Baby Bear’s porridge incident.

It was the first time I’ve been on a bike since I’ve been here and the experience somehow turned to Bliss in the span of a split banana.  My thoughts were weighty and profound as I petaled to the bakery.  I felt so free in my orange undies and tank top as I sat down, preparing to write my blog.  But GOD, was I fiending for a kombucha.  They cost five dollars and five cents here on the island.  Yep, an expensive (yet highly worthwhile) habit.  With only three dollars left to my name, how could this crafty child of God go about scratching my fermentation itch?  Soon a light bulb appeared above my head and unabashedly flashed ON!  I might have enough money in my bank account to buy one at the adorable, overpriced health food store, the “Healthy Hut”, across the street… I checked my wayward, mainland account from my iPhone.  Yup!  Ten twenty-five!  (I could afford TWO!)  So I marched over and picked the fizziest one in the fridge, a “cosmic cranberry”.  I pulled out my wallet, poised to throw down some holy plastic… SOS!  Sinking heart, call the lifeguard, stat!  I had taken it out of my wallet on account of that there are no Chase banks on the island.  Booooo.  I asked the girl behind the counter if they’d let me pay later.  She said no.

A wilted deprived junkie, I rode back to the bakery.  As I was parking my bike, a wild, tattooed “gentleman” (that was meant to be ironic, he was no gentleman…) exuberantly called to me, “YOU’RE BACK!!!  Will you write me a poem?!”

I tried to get my bearings and catch up to this explosion of a moment.  How did HE know?  I walked over and introduced myself and learned that one of the two women he was sitting with had seen me selling poems at the farmer’s market a while back and suggested that he request a poem.  I “splained” to them that I had only left in heated persuit of a kombucha, which I was denied in the end, and now I was intending to write my blog.  The same instigator of a woman (who for the record was otherworldly gorgeous) suggested that he buy me a kombucha in exchange for a poem.  He oozed with the essence of yes.  So I extended my invisible feelers into him in preparation to give birth to his poem.

But Holy Popcorn! (My new exclamation, thanks to RosyMoon’s recent comment!), was he a slippery, jittery squid of a man.  Apparently, he *really* likes coffee. I mean REALLY.  Yeah, he was flying HIGH.  He refused to share anything of substance about himself.  Instead he orchestrated the entire opperation.  He told me to simply write, without asking any questions, and furthermore, he demanded that I entitle the poem, “the boy who bought me a kombucha”.  Shrug.  Okay.  When push comes to shove, I can follow orders.  Whatever’s clever, Spaceman.  And off he flailed on his sacred liquid mission.

His female companions were clearly fallen stars.  Their light danced playfully about, mixing swimmingly with my own.  They invited me to a full moon women’s circle tonight on Secrets Beach.  Too bad I’m already going to a birthday party on Hanalei Bay… (The outrageous thing about birthday parties on this island is that they are most always on the beach… and EVERYone is invited.  At least that’s how it seems to be… so tonight I will pilgrimage to “Eve’s” birthday party, whom I have never met.  Shrug.  I’m looking forward to it.  And bringing home made black bean dip, since it’s a potluck!)

My erratic, zealous, unruly customer came back with my holy grail full of heavily fizzy wonder juice and I swigged it with a vengeance before diving into the first hand written poem I’ve ever sold.  “The boy who bought me a kombucha” told epic, rambling tales about his existence the whole time.  Meanwhile an amazing poem unfurled through me.  It was vivid, twisty and sobering.  In the end it was in invocation of a deeper layer of his true self, beneath the incessant jester’s dance.  He liked it.  As I read it, I felt like the main character in the movie Dangerous Beauty.

Then it was time for me to head down the street to the farmer’s market and spend my last three dollars on papayas.  Prices really vary, so I sniffed around to find the papayas that were a dollar each, so I could have THREE tender, coral-fleshed little miracles.  The little Pilipino woman told me I could have SIX for five dollars.  “I wish,” I told her… “but I’m down to my very last three dollars.”

And suddenly, three more dollars floated from the very pores of existence.  I swear.  A lady standing next to me said, “Here, now you can get MORE papayas!  …Or get whatever you want… You can’t be down to your last three dollars!”  Her energy was so clean and decisive.  Her giving was joyous and unconditional.  “WOW!  Money is falling from the SKY!” I said through an astonished, wide smile.

Then out came the cucumbers!  They were sleek and big as billy clubs.   “Are those JAPANESE cucumbers???” I asked, mesmerized.  “Yes,” the little hearty Pilipino woman confirmed.  Have you ever had a Japanese cucumber?  They are the crunchiest, coolest, freshest creatures ever to *not* walk the earth.  I paused, heavily considering putting two papayas back.  But before I could say “ticki-ticki-tembo-no-so-rembo-cukey-spooky-goofy-yippee-skippy”, my generous benefactor thrust another two bills at me.  I blinked in astonishment.  She nodded and said, “Don’t worry about it, I have plenty of money.  You stood next to the right woman.”

I told her I usually offer poems by donation.  She said she’d love to have one some day… She comes to the market weekly…

I rode home radiating holy wonder.  It must have been spilling out all over the place, because everyone I passed on my ride home flashed me a beaming smile.  So you see, when I told you that Kauai has splayed herself wide and dripping before me… I was not just blowing gratuitous, self indulgent smoke from slap happy cracks in me.

Thank You… All Pervading Patron In The Sky With Diamonds!!!  I accept your mysterious, loving care!

Amen.