A bridge between hearts

On the outside, summer has melted into the cool breath of autumn.  The gods have ostentatiously announced this turn by hurling copious lightning bolts and savage booms of thunder upon the green heart of Italy, as Umbria is fondly known.  Deluges of rain drench the earth with abandon.  This transforms the suffocatingly humid air to cool, sweet delicacy.  The trees are still green.  (I am dreading their impending shedding and nakedness…)  The days are no longer unbearably hot.  Just warm and friendly.  But winter winks and whispers from not too far off.

 

On the inside though, my hellish walkabout through emotional, spiritual winter is showing signs of thawing.

 

Forest’s arrival was NOT a graceful transition.  Preparing for birth gets so much hype… but often, the postpartum period gets left to the wolves.  This is mostly how it was for me.  I made a few feeble cries for help… and received a bit of blessed support around the ragged, jagged edges… Mostly in the form of a meal here, and a meal there… But my primary experience as a sudden mother of two with a thrashed and bleeding vagina, and a ripped open heart, was a desolate one.  I do NOT recommend this experience.  If you are pregnant, or intending to become pregnant…. ASK FOR HELP.  Demand help.  Feel wildly worthy of help.  Saturate yourself in support, postpartum.

 

I could get lost in the gory details of my searing postpartum experience, but that’s not what my heart longs to share.  I survived.  My body is resilient and strong.  Now Forest is one and a half months earthside.  And spring is breathing light and warmth upon the barren scapes of my heart and soul.

 

Don’t get me wrong… Life is demanding, and my body tense from holding and nursing a baby all day, while perpetually juggling the needs, demands and whims of an almost four year old and maintaining the impossible tidiness of a not-so-small house…

 

During my pregnancy, Giordano often expressed a hope that Forest would bring us all closer and balance the dynamics of our family.  Though deep down I shared this wish with him, I still mostly cringed when he spoke it… because it seemed like way too much responsibility to load onto a nine pound human with a soft, open skull.  (He’s twelve pounds by now…)  From my vantage point in this moment, it appears that Forest’s mighty soul IS actually capable of this superhuman feat.

 

It always comes back to the timeless chicken and egg quandary… Does the inside give rise to the outer?… Or…???  But as I grope about in these invisible realms, my intuition says that what we perceive as “inner” and “outer” are but one sentient, infinite ISness.

 

I always have a figurative finger on the pulse of The Collective.  Recently, I felt an intangible shift that was beyond me and my own paltry circumstances. AND at the same time, my said paltry circumstances began to shift…

 

Witnessing the depth of love and care that Giordano has for his son made it increasingly difficult to abide in my cherished, long-standing fantasy of fleeing with my children to the familiar and now legendary land of California The Beautiful.  I still mostly did not like my husband… but this distaste began to pale in the bright luminosity of his paternal love.

 

I challenged myself to practice approving of him… even in the face of my glaring distaste for his ways.  I really CAN be a critical bitch.  Honestly, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of my curdled criticism.  Simultaneously, Giordano became less aggressive.  He began to apologize faster and touch (and actually FEEL) me more.  You could argue that this was a function of my behavioral shift… but my sense is that there was a larger energetic gale at play.

 

Theories and hypotheses aside… more lightness is dawning upon our home and family.  I still don’t luxuriate in the company of my husband… but nor do I drown in distaste and pain, as I oft did before.  Forest is a bridge between our hearts and minds, where before it was mostly impossible to pass.  With this exotic flavor of newfound affinity, anything is possible for us…

 

Concurrent with my nuptial blossoming, I experienced a delicious, pivotal moment in my relationship with Italy.  I was at the grocery store with my kids…

 

Italian people are wild about pregnant women, and even wilder about babies.  Everywhere I turn, I am serenaded by a chorus of impassioned exclamation, “AMORE!”.  Women, and even a few men, lust for a peek at the angelic face of my slumbering baby snuggled against my bosom in his wrap.

 

So there we were, civilizedly foraging for food at the aesthetically mediocre Coop, which is nestled in the archaic heart of Gualdo Tadino, being fawned over by the masses.  An almost young, blue-eyed man offered me front cuts in the intimidatingly long checkout line.  But there was another couple between me and him.  Flustered, I looked to them for a read on the situation.  I was shocked when they both smiled and waved me in front of them, as though it was sheerly autonomic.  A red carpet sprawled open beneath my astonished feet.

 

I attempted and mostly failed to share a friendly conversation with the kind man who instigated the front cuts, but despite the lack of intellectual understanding, my heart and the entire mOMent overflowed with warmth.

 

Pushing the shopping cart into the warm, sunny morning, I had the warm, fuzzy thought, “I like it here in Italy.”  Followed by the stunned realization that I had never had that thought before.  I fondled and reflected upon this new awareness for a bit… and concluded that it was probably a fleeting fluke.  After all, my emotional waves tend to be drastic and dramatic and watery.

 

To my surprise, the feeling has lasted.  I realize that I have adjusted to life over here.  For the first year, I was painfully aware of what was missing.  Foods, friends, family, comfy swings that cradle your butt at the playground, the ability to have a damn conversation….

 

But I’m starting to develop a taste for pizza… I make my own peanut butter.  I found pickles that don’t totally blow.  I brew my own water kefir.  The list goes on… but the moral of the story is that I am synching up with my new environment and life.  I am not devastated by the often silence between Giordano and I when we drive places together.  Sure, in my ideal world it would be swell to love to talk with my husband… but silence is kinda okay too… He DOES put his hand on my leg mostly always…

 

I love our land, abounding with fruits and foragables… I love how safe I feel here.  Serena can wander about freely.  (Not that she does, mostly.  She tends to cling.)  I am able to understand quite a bit of Italian, even if my speaking is butt-ass remedial…

 

Reflecting on my suffering, my dear friend Dara invited me to reflect on my original Desire/intention for coming to Italy.  I had to dig a bit to get back there… but it was FAMILY.  I ached for family.  And now I have it.  Gloriously imperfect, as Life mostly is… but nutritious and beautiful too… if I’m open to it.

 

Given the incessant imperfection of life in/as duality, may I embrace the grace that is always here.  What a shame it would be to awaken to this ever-flawed goodness as I am blinking out of this existence.

 

An Interview with ME!

Hi!  I just took myself through a powerful process… I soul searched some deep questions that I wanted to explore and clarify within myself.  And then I threw down in an interview!!!  Initially, I just intended it to be for me… not to share.  But when I watched it, I was moved by the power and sweetness of my authenticity and soulful sharing.  I felt moved to share it… just incase you find value in witnessing my soulful expression.  Perhaps it touches something deep within you… I offer it from my heart.

Grrrrrr…. Youtube sucks.  This is the second time I’ve copied and pasted my vid link, and it’s put up the WRONG video!!!!  And I keep trying to do it over and over again… with the same results.  (You can’t solve a problem from the same consciousness that created it!!!!  Thanks Einstein.)  Well… it’s on my Youtube channel.  It’s called “An interview with myself”.  I hope you watch it.

I’m Still Alive!!! And Then Some….

Hello from Athena Graceland! Ahhh… just writing those words… was like brushing fine silk across my tender cheek! I love it here!!! There truly is no place like home! Well, I have some fantastic news:

I finally mustered the courage to hurl the unicorns overboard!!!

Whaaaat is she talking about? Well, if you’ve been following my blog for a while, you might recall that I have written a couple of blogs over the distant months, (or maybe even YEARS) where I’ve whined about feeling stuck, stagnant, frozen. Which somehow inevitably jogged my wild mind to the Doors song, where Jim Morrison recites that poem about “when the still seas conspire in armor… true sailing is dead… and the first animal is jettisoned… legs furiously pumping…” and I learned that he was making reference to a time when sailors would be at sea, and the water would get dangerously still. No waves. And they’d essentially be motionless in the vast, gaping mouth of salty blue purgatory… so they’d throw their horses overboard, in hopes that their collective thrashing would stimulate enough motion to get them sailing again. God this human myth can be so gruesome and cruel.

But it was the perfect metaphor for the experience that I have struggled with from time to time along my path, creative, spiritual and otherwise (Wait… what else IS there besides creative and spiritual? I think any other categories of existence could easily be boiled down to one of those to words… and even those could be simmered down to ONE.) Ahem. And now to drive home the point!… I am in Oregon now. Remember, I was invited to the Ananda community, “Laurelwood”, here in the pacific northwest? I’ve been here for two and a half weeks… And already, entire casual sprays of spiral galaxies have burst and surged and smeared across the inner scapes of my being. Hallelujah! The unicorns have pumped me free!! How fitting that it came to pass at the threshold of the YEAR of the unicorn (“Horse”, for all of you squares out there!)…

The clock just struck five am. And I must exclaim that I am THRILLED to be here, opening up, tipping over, and pouring out like an ecstatic little tea pot! Surprise! I thought maybe I wasn’t a writer anymore. But no… my inner sea was just on holiday in the land of the dead. The neon OPEN sign has just buzzed and burst back on. I have undergone a transfusion of life and inspiration and freshness.

Why have I waited two and a half weeks to drop you a line from the perpetual happily-ever-afters (wink) of Athena Graceland? OMG, because I have been so freakin busy!! They make you WORK here!!! Well… not so much at first, thank Jahova! I’ve had time to ease into the flow here. But now I’m at a full throttle thirty-five hours a week of washing dishes, chopping vegetables, scrubbing ancient toilets, vacuuming endless flights of stairs, leading sadhanas, MAKING ART (My creative ignition deserves its OWN blog. Stay tuned!)… and then some!

When I first got here, I felt like a spoiled princess who was horrified by the idea of breaking a nail, or missing her afternoon nap. Okay, honestly, I am still not that jazzed about forgoing nap time… But I am easing into a refreshing surrender to life here. Sometimes that includes the *luxury* of an afternoon nap, and sometimes NOT. Sometimes it means my “full eight hours”, and sometimes it means five and a half. But always, it means an opportunity to LET GO and let “good”. I am submerged in goodness here.

Miriam invited me into this potent, transformative, divine slice of God’s dream. She was Swami Kriyananda’s nurse… until he split the scene of this earthen crack-house (wink!) last april. And then she came here to be a powerful conduit of Divine Mother’s Love in a place that sorely needed it. One of the great mysteries of life: Miriam and I have a deep, pure and potent bond that far transcends the meager crumbs of time we have imbibed together in this life. We share a grace-full familiarity that is generous, loving and expansive, like sliding into a perfectly hot, rose petal laden bath. Being near her sublime light, burns through any piddly cloud-cover that may cross my inner landscape. It’s actually quite miraculous. If I were to count my blessings, I’d put this Goddess at the top, like a cherry on a hot fudgy sunday! (I know, Ma!… “Sundae is spelled with an E!!!… But don’t you love imagining the holiest day of the week, all inundated with rich, creamy, “tahitian” vanilla ice cream, bleeding slowly about everything, as it’s frozen sanctity is provoked by a sea of scandalously thick, hot, decadent fudge?! Right in the middle of Sunday Service! As you inevitably snooze through Jyotish’s inspired talk! Grin.)

ATHENA! Come back! Don’t be so frivolous with your words, when you have SO many worlds inside to reveal, and your readers can only endure about a thousand words, before their minds glaze over like fresh, hot donuts and they click back to the Facebook stream! Ha! But I’ll NEVER stop being frivolous… it brings me JOY. And at raja yoga class on tuesday night, Daiva reminded us that JOY is really at the heart of it all. EVERYTHING we do (yes that means YOU), is in pursuit of this essential nectar that eternally abides at the very center of our eternal ISness. But if it “eternally abides” within… WHY on earth do we chase after it in every fluttering shadow and seductive, distant mirage?? Indeed, a question worth pondering for at least a moment. But not for TOO long. Just long enough to inspire you to let go of the chase and OPEN to joy NOW. And now and now.

Yesterday was an intense day for me. Lots of powerful movement in my Relationship with “Eddie-word”, which I won’t even get into… Plus, running on five hours of sleep, PLUS a marathon day of serving in the kitchen, plumbing the depths of exhaustion, the slow, shy dawning of pms… blah, blah, blah… And it gave me a stellar opportunity to mine my present experience for concealed shards of joy. Because Daiva asserted that since joy is the essence of God, and we are MADE OF GOD, joy is imbued in *everything* and every moment. Lo and behold, I found it! Legs aching, mind grimacing as I begrudgingly sprayed oily, cheese crusted plates with an industrial kitchen hose… even then, I found a few nectarous drops of joy dribbling from the dark center of my self-imposed suffering!

It reminded me of the bushmen in africa, who must dig deeeeep into the parched earth for a root that contains three drops of water, which they skillfully squeeze into their calmly eager mouths and then proceed to be quenched for the rest of the day. A little joy goes a long way.

Good Lord! We’re already beyond the eleven-hundred word mark! God? What else do you bid me share with these luminous friends?

Well… there is sOMuch more… The people (kind, loving, hard-working, committed, quirky, mostly fun…), the place (a hundred year old, ex-seventh day adventist boarding school, snuggled in the middle of sparse, forested, “somewhere” of northern Oregon, the vivid, incessant dreams I’ve been having every night, the deep feeling of wholeness that is rising inside me like a brilliant, dripping, full super-moon, as I continue to surrender my grip on life as I knew it… The shaky, uncertain evolution of my Relationship with Ed, and my new-found willingness to release into the unknown, as I stand in my power and LOVE HIM unconditionally…

It’s all pure grace, really. My heart told me to come here. I listened. I am growing faster than a time-lapsed movie of a sprout. When I try to wrap my head around it all, I become dizzy! So I just keep scrubbing plates, meditating and singing to God, and loving the ones I’m with. It’s actually quite simple. Too simple. Life is not what I was conditioned to believe it to be… that’s for sure. And that’s a good thing. But still a little hard to accept in some moments.

“The Master says, ‘Open your heart to me, and I will enter and take charge of your life’…”

Well I did. And He did. And I’m glad.

Om. Peace. Amen.

Surrendered and Awestruck

All I want to write about is Ed.  Because honestly, I have NEVER met a man who knows how to love, worship, empower, care for, respect, experience and open a woman like he does.  (Except maybe my friend Anitra’s man, Matthew… but I’ve never met him in person.)  I wish Eddie would TEACH men how to love women.  This world would sure be a different place if men knew how to love women.  And yes, it’s a two way street.  Women need to be able to fully receive this profound gift.

I sat and blanked out for a few minutes after I wrote that first paragraph… wondering where in the heck this blog wants to go.  I mean I could plunge head first into the topic of intimate relationships… but that doesn’t inspire me.  And I am here to follow the energy like a golden thread that weaves all the way through the curvaceous fever dreams that coyly conceal the omnipresence of Heaven.

I want to say that this is such a RICH time in the unfolding of my soul.  Om my GOD.  If you have been vacationing in Athena Graceland for a while, you have witnessed me riding some pretty killer waves recently!  Sheesh, I am become painfully intimate with my edges… that ugly “fuck it” place, where I am ready to quit.  Where I lament that I am too spiritually aware to even consider suicide, so instead I just spit and snort about what a stupid choice it was to incarnate as a human being on planet earth.  And a part of me is like, “God, Athena, you can do better than this!”… And I try to find the way home to the peaceful throne at the center of my bodhisattva heart… but darn it if the path isn’t is utterly obscured!

But even in the worst of times, I am still up at five thirty am, seated at my candle lit altar, calling out to God and begging for the grace to be welcomed Home, into the heart of Silence, which wakefully rests, eternal, at the center of my being.  I’m getting closer!

Today, I can testify, that the challenge, the glorious struggle of life these days is making me SO strong and beautiful.  As I ride each excruciating wave, I truly wonder how in the fuck I am going to pull this one off… But I DO!  And then the ocean becomes calm for a wash of welcome breaths, and I look around… and I am pleasantly stunned by my victorious becoming, and by the endless wonders that surround and embrace me!

I know I have used this image before in my blogs… but that’s because it is perfect… Member in the Wizard of Oz, when the wicked witch flew through the open, blue sky on her broom, trailing smoke with which she spelled out “SURRENDER DOROTHY”?  Yep.  Run out of your house now and cast your eyes to the heavens…. Surrender Athena!!!!!  Or if it’s of value in your own life at this moment, please substitute YOUR name for mine!

In my heart of hearts, I pray to love GOD more than any fleeting form, or illusory goal.  And as I am thrashed about by this RAGING SEA, it is impossible to cling to much of ANYTHING.  All I can do is BREATHE deep, and make friends with what IS.  In some moments, this SUCKS.  But I LOOOVE who I am becoming.  One who is unshakably grounded in spirit.  One whose faith is bullet proof and firmly rooted in the soil of miracles.

I’m not afraid to let go.  I am willing.

Listen to this!  I went to church on sunday.  And as soon as I entered the sanctuary, I broke down in a deluge of tears.  I let myself spill.  And this is unlike me… but they didn’t stop.  They just kept pouring right out.  And I felt right and welcome and whole, as I soaked up the spiritual nutrients that bled from every pore of the nowness in which I marinated.  THEN, get this, Reverend E shared that she was sick, and had visited two doctors who could find nothing wrong with her… so she went to a kinesiologist who told her that she was GRIEVING.  And because she never cried, her LUNGS were crying.  She said it’s true, she never cried, because as a child, her parents forbid it… so she learned to hold it all together no matter WHAT.  Meanwhile, there’s Athena Grace, sitting in the second row, sobbing her guts out.  Life is such an intricate mystery.  An image of a prismatic snowflake with infinite facets and dimensions just flashed in my mind’s eye.  It dances in the devotional embrace of the void, refracting ever-new faces of wonder.  This is the ground of our being.

I love Reverend E.  She’s in her eighties.  And her divine beauty stuns me.  I love how she delivers her sermons with her eyes closed!… so fully given to spirit… and the words pour from her sacred mouth and wash over our hungry minds like a river of sweet honey truth.

But I guess the moral of that story, is that sometimes one must let the tears flow and cleanse our hearts like summer rain.  Because afterward, I was indeed made pure.  I left church, still aching.  I ached all day.  Then, came evening, and in desperation, I called out to my Goddess Sister, Deirdre.  That was the turning point for me.  FRIENDSHIP!!!!!  Wait.  That deserves its OWN paragraph…

FRIENDSHIP!!!!!!!!!

Holy God.  There is NOTHING like friendship.  Friendship is food.  Friendship is blood.  Friendship is water.  Friendship is God.

I am amazed at the skill with which Deirdre was able to simultaneously cradle and kiss on the desperate, broken child in me, and then, while the child was pacified on the tit of holy mother love, Deirdre wielded a phat sword and chopped the head off the self-indulgent victim flailing about inside me!!!  How did she pull that off? A blessed combination of skill and grace!!!!  Deirdre’s loving presence has raised the bar for me on how to show up as a friend.

Bottom line?  I have faith in this transformative cauldron of LOVE, we call Life.  I am seeing that the more I LET GO, and LET GOD, and use every single moment to extend LOVE, the happier and more at peace I am.

Join me here.  Love always wins.  I promise.

Live,

A

Across The Bridge And Thru The Woulds

And NOW for today’s epic shimmy through the eye of the needle.  Ya know what I mean?  …Or must I spell it out?  Well, I suppose if you already knew everything I was gonna say, I wouldn’t need to spell out a single word.  I would just be a bus driver, or a garbage collector and be done with it.  Wow, I’d make such a luscious garbage collector… in shiny red stilettos… Ahem.  So what I mean is– that the world inside me has more facets and dimensions than the the immensest diamond in the mind of God.  And this blank page of potential is the eye of the needle.  Reaching inside and feeling for what is most electric and raw and ripe…  that’s the job of the writer, proclaims Athena Grace, as a smile spreads her face wide with glow.

 

Inhale.  Exxxxxhale.  I feel dull today.  Dull and introverted.  I sorta wonder why.  I think it has something to do with my recent visit to Reno to visit my dad.  I often forget about the nuanced depths of the unconscious mind… I guess I get easily seduced into the captivating dazzle of all that I see out my eyes and feel in my body NOW… the overt weave of dreams and fears and ignited, soulful aspirations… I forget that the lotus thrives because its root sucks secret nutrients from the dark, unknowable, rich ness of slimy, muddy depths.  Slimy, muddy depths.  I think they got stirred in Reno.  And now I’m not a prismatic, holier than thou vessel of seeming purity.  I’m a glass of baffled mud.  Shrug.  Not much I can do about it, except BE HERE.  So I’m being here.  It’s sunday.  Usually on sunday mornings I dance myself inside out… unless I’m out of town or dead.  But today I showed up to dance… and nothing could make me move.   Everything inside lovingly hissed, “fuck this”.  So I left.  And went home and sat in like a perplexed, oversized potato on my bed.  Now it’s hours later and I’m still a baffled potato.  But I figured I’d at least open the pearlescent gates of my mind and allow strategic letters of the alphabet to scamper single file out of me in hopes of stumbling upon something of myself previously unseen.  Awe, that sounds so deep.  But maybe I don’t want to be deep.

 

Well first order of business is that my mom oft makes fun of me for using the wrong spelling of a word here in Athena Graceland… for example saying, “I want to go live in a log cabin in the woulds”!  Ha!  That’s funny.  No wonder it cracks my mom up.  She says “awe” is the wrong kind of aww.  Hahaha.  I’m tickling myself.  Trying to language this topic is like sumo wrestling the FAT-ASSED externalized authority that is mostly held hostage in a sexy stone tower somewhere in the enchanted northern hemisphere of my brain.  But I’m up for it!  And besides, if you had the choice of spelling “aww”, A-W-W or A-W-E, which one would YOU chose?  Awe, right?  Hands down!  Because awe= an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like: in awe of God… what’s NOT to love about reaching in your magic hat and seizing a fist full of THAT?!  Except for the fear piece… I didn’t know that awe could be an overwhelming feeling of fear.  In fact, screw that.  I’m gonna flat out disagree.

 

And now, ladies and gentle men, for the TURNING POINT of this blog, where all of my words become psycho-emotionally caloric and super-charged with meaning!

 

Shards of rainbow are wobbling languidly about the interior of my domestic slab of existence.  It’s nearly four pm and the indian summer light… wow… speaking of caloric!  I feel like I’m a seahorse sized mermaid in a rectangular aquarium filled with an exquisite strain of liquid light.  You might imagine me to be but a girl crying wolf as I profess to be rolling up my sleeves and driving at some sort of weighty essential core of this blog… but the fact that I really am a miniature mermaid habitating in a human sized tank of light and rainbows is the perfect prelude to my impending assertion that it is FULL ON, as we prance collectively into the final, waning moments of twenty twelve.  And I live how everyone is so casual about it!  We’re acting like it’s always been this way, and it’s hella normal. Which, in a way, it IS… But mostly it’s totally NOT!  Listen, I’ve always been the token mouth puker-inner, when someone signs their email, “love and light”… Because COME ON– it’s SO repulsively new-agey.  You might have mistakenly put me in the “new agey” box… but “your bad”… cuz I’m not.  Just cuz I happen to have a delicious glow of contemporary Jesus-i-ness, does NOT make me new agey.

 

BUT WHO CARES ABOUT ME, what I’m driving at, is that the dawn has COME and the technicolor rising of love and light on the horizon of our collective consciousness is so striking and overt at this point that one must call a spade a spade.  Wow.  Not only was that a robustly poetic and dazzling thesis statement, but Wonder Woman, was it SO TRUE.  Something IS dawning inside of us now.  I feel it surging like a broken damn through the bloody birth canal of my own being… and as well, I see it, smell it, feel it, taste it EVERYWHERE.  I can’t leave the house without spotting someone sporting a “LOVE” t-shirt.  And I don’t just mean one of my fellow new-age-freak-holes. I mean even the most unsuspecting ghetto-bootied oakland chick, chillin on her twilight picnic blanket, daintily lifting mc donald’s fries to her drippingly glossy mouth with fingers donned in neon acrylic nails longer than london bridge.

 

And just log on to my Facebook page– everyone is saying the most enlightened things… incessant exclamations of gratitude and love and deep care for this world and all of its inhabitants.  You’d think we were all the second coming of Buddha or something.  Oh wait, we ARE.  But we finally are realizing it.  And it’s cool how natural it seems.  Nobody seems to be making a big deal of it… Like “of course were God”.  Grin.  Like how night melts into day so smoothly that suddenly the darkness is nowhere to be found and the sun is blinding you and it ain’t no thang.  That’s the magic of dawn.  That’s the grace imbued in nature and time and cycles.

 

Oh crap, I’m ready to end this blog, and I don’t feel like groping around in the uncharted reaches of my asshole in search of the most fluid, intelligent exit.  My departure feels reminiscent of attempting to leap off of a speeding train.  Well I’m gonna leap!  And land in a soft, benevolent wash of love and light (wink).  Here I goooooo…. But I shall leave you with this entirely true declaration–

 

Reading these words, you have crossed a bridge.  By the Sacred Power vested in me, I now pronounce you WIDE AWAKE and eternally blessed as an innocent and perfect child of God.  I’m serious.

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

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.

Bleeding With Bliss

Ahh, quiet Friday… Three forty nine in the afternoon.  I’m sitting outside the Kilauea Bakery.  It’s just me and the birds.  And the breeze.  Inside the bakery, Abba is playing~ Dancing Queen.  The song wafts softly into me, mingling well with the mild shhhh of hearty tropical foliage.  My mood feels so somber.  I find myself wondering why it’s so easy to mistake peace for boredom… Habit?  I just had the thought that I’d like to go out with a pack of wild girls tonight, looking sexy and dangerous.  Drink wine, laugh, scream and turn taboos upside down and shake them out all over the unsuspecting place.  Then when we’re good and sauced, we’ll gallop to the moon and starlit water’s frothy edge, tear off our scanty clothing and let the rawness of nighttime ravage our soft, naked bodies as we shriek and sing and spit as we please.

 

But I’ll probably just have *another* quiet night at home, bathing in the succulent solitude of my darkened bedroom.  In the dark, the music pops out into 3 and 4 and 5D, so that I can actually suck it, chew it, swallow it!  It shapes me as it presses into me from all sides.

 

Holy God!  I feel better already!  I was feeling so resistant to writing… and just two paragraphs in, I am suddenly flying high.  Folks, this is a miracle.  Signs point to that I am following my bliss!  This actually moves me to tears, because it took me SO long to find it.  To be able to FEEL at the core of my being, ignited, merged and ripped open to the God that lives right here, nestled sweetly inside of me!  I could sit here and cry about how blessed and grateful I am… But I think I’ll keep writing.
I want to take you into my nocturnal bedroom with me. Come on.  It is one of the holiest places on earth.  Wrapped up in soft, tropical darkness, I feel whole and safe and peaceful.  Sometimes I fancy to be seduced and caressed by music, other times, I float dreamily on the sonic subtleties that drift in from my perpetually wide open window.  Last night cow moos wafted in, bleeding together with the high, shrill purr of crickets.  And let’s be sure and celebrate my friends the chirping geckos!  In the dark, sounds gain weight and frivolous meaning.  When the riotous dogs pipe in, I am practicing actively seeking out and affirming the place of peace in me that remains eternally unscathed by even the most abrasive rackets.

 

I roll out my dingy blue yoga mat… the one that has escorted me on my travels all over the map, creating an instant home for my body and soul, no matter where I am.  Maybe I dance because I’m feeling beautiful blended with All Pervading Rapture.  I breathe and move and feel myself.  Here.  Now.  In this sacred vessel that is my body.  I feel and breathe into my edges where sacred tension defines my embodied self.  I find new freedom behind my closed bedroom door in the mellow lit darkness.  I write.  I swim through the psychedelia of my mind.  Freely churn, spelunk, excavate my soul.  Sometimes the words and worlds come easy.  Sometimes I struggle and fight for them.  But either way, I am living my truth, milking my self discipline, my discipleship to my craft through storms and clear internal skies alike… and this makes my soul unravel and purr and imbibe the unsayable.

 

My body feels like heaven right now.  Writing turned boredom right back into peace and beyond peace into bliss.  I wish these words could blast you with a direct transmission of this sacred gift that is flowing through my body right now.  I wish you could feel this with me.  God is making love to me.  Just goes to show, you never know when Grace is gonna sneak up and accost you from the innermost reaches of your being.  Nice!  Sexual energy purrs in me like rapturous light rising up from my pussy through my core.  My heart feels relaxed and fully accepting of this moment.  My mind… is slow… for fucking ONCE… Jesus.  And on the outside, my mostly exposed, tan skin is being petted by Heaven’s breath.

 

Goddess, I sure have been beating around the bush.  I have big news for you!  Okay, out with it then!!!!  I swam with the dolphins today!!!  Yes.  I mean no, I’m NOT kidding!  I was at one of my favorite beaches, Kalihiwai (the w is pronounced like a v… “Kah-lee-hee-veye”) I thought I saw them way far out.  Spinner dolphins.  They occasionally leap up out of the water and twirl ecstatically, landing with a sassy splash back in their oceanic playground.  Ooooh, as I revisit the sacred scene in my mind, my heart floods and my eyes well up with tears.  I think their blessing has something to do with my current state of quietude and peace.  Now I’m crying.  I feel so humbled and blessed.

 

Brad told me to relinquish attachment when it came to swimming with the dolphins, because THEY are in charge and when it’s meant to be, it will be… but if you try to force it, you end up swimming your ass off only to find yourself alone and so far from shore.  So I happily merged with the mellow surf, praying yet again to be washed clean.  (One can NEVER be washed too clean this dirty day in age… Wink.)  But destiny lured me further and further out into the little bay.  I was not trying or thinking.  Merely feeling the poetry, the privilege of moving through these sacred waters.  I felt so vulnerable.  So far out, so small and at the effect of something entirely unfathomable as I glided through the cool, buoyant blue.

 

I heard them before I saw them.  With my head under the water, flying like a submerged water-skeeter… I heard their high pitched sonar squeals.  It was shocking.  The deepest part of me knew… and yet my mortality trembled, feeling to be held in the gaping mouth of the Unknown.  I scanned the dancing surface of the water around me… and there they WERE, a whole big pod, dorsal fins slicing the yielding surface of the water.  I felt my heart blossom and gush.  Warm tears slid from my eyes and blended gracefully with the sea.  At first I thought I had to chase them… but soon I realized that we were dancing together.  I felt them include me in their joyous play.

 

Spinner dolphins are a small, slender variety.  So shiny and slippery looking.  They would surface, blowing air out of their blow holes in a mass “psssshhhh” and then disappear for some moments.  But I could hear them squealing and singing when I submerged myself in the water.  My mind disappeared.  I entered another realm.  They occasionally leapt and twirled, reminding me of whirling dervishes of the ocean.  We journeyed together, just simply BEING in the ocean for about twenty minutes?  I guess… time didn’t exist… but it was long enough to get entirely filled up by the experience.  Then I had a feeling that I was ready to swim back to shore… and precisely then, they disappeared into the oceanic wilderness.

 

I swam the long distance back to shore savoring the sensuous holiness of every stroke.  I walked all the way home filled with a deep, resonant reverence.  I was barefoot, and after being in the water for over an hour, each footstep felt profound as my body touched down again on warm, solid earth.  My mind was all space and silence.  Gosh… now that I think about it… I realize I have just… how do I put this?  …I have just had an intimate interlude with the Sacred which has impacted me deeper than I even realize and changed me forever.

 

HALLELUJAH!!!!!  Blessed BE!

 

Amen.

 

PS~ It was brought to my attention that my last post came up blank… so I have re-posted it… check it out, if you fancy…

Frolicking With My Wizard Friend

I’m not sure if I’m capable of blogging on the beach… Because I am being inundated by excruciating beauty from all sides.  But I’m gonna give it my all.  My wizard friend, Jack took me to one of his favorite places on the south side of the island today, Maha`u`lepu.  I was skeptical, because the south shore is known for being more of a spoiled tourist mecca.  But come on, what did I have to lose?  Plus, Jack’s enthusiasm alone was worth our pilgrim’s slog.  Turns out, the magic here is thick enough to spread on toast!!!  I just tried to take a couple of pictures for you… but I don’t think they do much justice to the transcendent exquisiteness that I am marinating in right now.

 

Even just the fresh sea air alone is worth writing an entire opera about.  It’s a steady, determined breeze that forces its soft, salty, satin way into my lungs and under my fluttering clothes. I’m sitting on a mat in the sand, shaded by these native Australian trees.  Jack says the aborigines called them “talking trees”, because of the self assured tongues they speak in when the wind plays in them.  They’re tall, slender, scraggly evergreens.  But of course I’m saving the best for last.  The water!  It is like an immense, undulating patchwork colored jewel. (Jack called it “sea bling” as diamond light shimmies about the surface.) Towards the shore, it is pale, lucid aquamarine.  So pale, you can see to the sandy floor.  As it sprawls out, the aqua becomes emeralds, turquoise and jade.  Beyond that, it dances into a classical oceanic indigo.  Oh, and let’s not leave out the creamy, white froth that spontaneously leaps into existence like feisty punctuation.

 

This wet, swelling bejeweled body has stolen my heart.  And I say, Mama, it’s YOURS, take it!!!  Her tides have lured my heart into a state of fevered devotion.  I want to be by her side forever.  If I am too dense and human to remember the All Pervading Ocean, at least I can remember this vast though finite earthbound version of the Infinite with which my heart thirsts to be merged once more.  (And yes, I know that once merged, always merged.  I know that I have never left the Ocean, and neither have You, Blessed Friend… But it’s this silly game of duality.  Bites us on the butt every time!)  A seal just swam up to the beach for a little resy-poo.  Auspiciousness!  I love watching her blubber jiggle as she shimmies along the golden sand.

 

Now that I’ve set the scene, I want to tell you about Jack.  We met a month ago tomorrow.  He was my forth poem customer on the island.  I told you before that sometimes I have an immediate knowing that certain people are going to approach me for a poem.  I recognized Jack the moment my eyes fell on him.  Actually, I mistook him for my dear friend, Phoenix (who originally brought me “Home” to Kauai seven years ago)… from the back.  I thought, “Phee would have told me if he was coming to Kauai, wouldn’t he?”  But then I saw Jack’s pale, lucid blue eyes, which happen to be portals into an etheric, mystical dimension of which I am still not entirely acquainted… But I do know it’s a heavily enchanted land of wizards and other such wonders.

 

“Welcome home,” he told me a month ago… and something in me knew without a doubt that he *really* was welcoming me home.  He’s singing a song right now.  He is often singing a song.  He lives in a tent on an orchard in Moloa`a and spends his time slurping the copious island beauty through a straw and spitting it back out into sketches, paintings, poems, songs and a general [aloha] spirit of reverent, wizardish merriment.  He adores me.  When we’re together, I feel like a queen… but not the stuffy Queen of England variety.  NO!  The queen of enchanted nooks and crannies.  The queen of the inner space formerly know as “outer space”.  He is ever zealous to share everything wonderful and overflowing with me.  He’s enthusiastic like an unspoiled, awe-struck child, yet wise like a man who has lived a long, full life in a School of Knocks of Diversified Intensities.  I am very discerning about the company I keep… and Jack is top notch.

 

But if I was all caught up in appearances, bound by rigid expectations about the form in which my true friends would appear, I would certainly have missed him altogether.  I mean golly, he’s a short, balding fifty four year old man with a mutton choppy beard and a vibrant slew of button down Hawaiian shirts.  I’m glad my head is not SO far up my ass that I would miss him… and all of the other Beloveds whom God has delivered in such a clever diversity of packages.  Though I must say, I have a proclivity toward older men.  The quality, heart-FULL ones make stellar company.  Maybe because I’m not all preoccupied with having sex with them… I suppose they probably are of me… but they’re well behaved and seasoned enough to appreciate me in my fullness and they blossom in my vivacious company.

 

Jack told me today, “I wrote in my journal the other night that you have the sexiest mind of anyone I’ve ever met.”  I had to laugh, because Dan, another one of my all time favorite Beloveds (a sixty two year old piece of Holy Artistry) used to tell me the same thing often… Sexy mind…  Okay, I’ll try that on!  It’s one thing to be incessantly tangled in this “sexy” mind of mine… and entirely another to see it all neat and tidy from the outside.  Next time I’m running myself in mental dervish circles, I’ll have to remember that it’s actually sharp and SEXY, in addition to being chaotic, crazy and SO beyond unruly!

 

My tantric philosophy teacher, Douglas Brooks loves to remind his students, “You are the company you keep, so KEEP GOOD COMPANY!”  When I’m with Jack, I am fully alive, passionate, unlimited, inspired, grateful, regal, appreciative, magical, generous, compassionate, useful and wide awake!  I like me this way.

 

I guess I’ll keep him…

 

Amen.

 

PS~ It worked out okay… blogging in wind whipped paradise.  God?  Slip me some skin, All Pervading Pal!

 

Everything’s Turning To Jesus!

The blank page glares at me expectantly.  I gaze back at it, paralyzed by possibility and not wanting to settle for anything less than God’s will.  God?  What would you have me say tonight?  You see, All Pervading One has been SO good to little Athena Grace… all I want to do is pour myself out as a font of reverence and gratitude.  I bring my awareness to my heart.  It tingles like sweet Hawaiian limes and I say yes and invite the tart flush to spread all the way down my arms and hands and out of my ignited, buzzing finger tips (as well as through the entire core of my body).  Finally, life is great!  Sheesh, I had to trudge through the wastelands of forgetfulness and pain for so long… But I like to work for things in life… it makes them taste way better.  I can only imagine how much divine nourishment I will be able to assimilate from life at age forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, a hundred and twenty!!!  Yes, folks, I plan to live to be a hundred and twenty.  Depak Chopra said that’s the ball park life expectancy for luminous creatures such as yours truly.

God?  Is that what you wanted me to say?  How do I know?  I don’t, so I’ll just fake till I make it, which will probably be any minute now.  Where DO these words come from?  They sure come from SOMEwhere… Might as well be the All Pervading Alphabet Soup.  Alphabet soup… remember how thrilling alphabet soup was?!  At least for me it was… Though I never was able to spell anything very interesting, like I do in this blog.  I think if I could witness/participate in one chosen miracle, it would be for my bowl of alphabet soup to reveal the secrets of the universe to me.  Nah, then it would probably just be ONE single spoonful that said, “LOVE”.  Instead, God will talk to me through my alphabet soup and tell me exactly what to say in my blog.  Can you imagine, if my blog was “brought to you by” my bowl of alphabet soup?!  Then would you BELIEVE?!

Goddess Bless America!  Holy Popcorn!  There is so much I could tell you… and yet nothing is burning brighter in my mind’s eye than anything else.  And when I ask God what to say, HeSheIt just smiles at me from the heaven that explodes from everywhere at once, which is cool and all, but at the end of the day, I still have to pull something out of the hat to throw out to you hungry cyber dogs.  I guess I’ll tell you that about a week ago, I got a random email from a woman who found my blog through a search for “Caroline Myss”.  This woman recently wrote a book called, Walking Through Illusion, which she said was about how it’s not our beliefs we take with us when we pass, but the LOVE we found through having them, and she asked, if she sent me a copy, would I be willing to read it and then review it on my blog…  Shrug.  Random, right?  But I was intrigued… because I’m tired of trying to force and control my life.  It’s much more relaxing and fulfilling when I (hear this next part in an Indian accent) simply let go and let God.

So the book showed a coupla days ago up and it was very clear that God sent it to me.  No coincidence.  In her forward, the author, Betsy Otter Thompson says that in the writing of her book, she merges with Jesus’s energy.  She opens her heart, receives a feeling and lets that feeling express.  Sounds familiar… but translated feelings sure are more of a dastardly mish-mash.  When I first got the email from her, I was not cognizant of serving a divine instrument being ecstatically played as an essential part of God’s drunken symphony… I thought I was separate and finite and that it was a fluke, a dice who rolled off of someone else’s crap table (I put that in for my dad, since he deals craps… I recently invited him to read this blog, after months of skirting around the topic… I yearned to share this passionate expression of my soul with him… and yet I felt terrified of being judged and misunderstood by DADDY.  Honestly, that’s the arch angel of all stings.  But I finally got over myself and invited him deeper into my world by giving him the web address.  I don’t think he’s reading it though…But someday he will.  And maybe my craps reference will energetically seduce him to his computer, inexplicably, in the middle of the night…) and accidentally bounced into my playpen.

But when I cracked Walking Through Illusions open this morning and licked the preliminary pages with my eyeballs, it was clear that this was obviously the expert execution of one Lord and Savoir on High!  Yup.  That’d be our very own Jesus H.  In some of my past blogs, I’ve expressed my fondness for the holy dude… and defended him from the travesty of kinked up, pursed lipped, frivolously condemning Christianity.  So I guess he just thought he’d return the favor by dropping a book full of potent healing capacity in my lap.  Thanks J-daddy!  (Oh-la-la!  Here comes the rain!  Time to hop aboard the romance train and ride wildly into sexy tides of late night living liquid poetry!)  I feel to run out to Brad’s old blue diesel Mercedes, sleeping in the driveway and lay into the horn!  Because I LOVE Jesus!  And sometimes the best thing once can do is HONK about it!

Speaking of Jesus, like eighty percent of the men here on Kauai remind me of Jesus.  I swear… I have Jesus sightings everywhere I go… including out to the kitchen to make dinner!  Tonight’s Jesus du jour was Joshua.  He’s a twenty two year old Jesus who currently lives on the beach and follows the Tao.  I don’t think he ever wears a shirt.  Last week, when I met him for the first time, I immediately reduced him to left over coleslaw and packed him in a tiny box to wither and spoil.  The box was entitled, “Hippy-Dippy-Ultra-Feminine-Boy-Who’s-Too-Young-To-Really-Know-Much”.  Then I proceeded to act nice and open to him… Am I sick or what?  It’s my loss… because his heart is about as pure as expensive crystle.  Tonight he told me that all he’s really been doing with himself these days is a whole lot of watching the ocean and chanting of mantras.  When I feel into him, his energy is so clean, sweet and innocent.  He’s all kindness.  And he looks like Jesus.

I am totally out of money these days, waiting for a check that has been delayed for almost TWO WEEKS, and in the mean time, living “poem to poem” and “grace to grace” as I recently confided in you… Tonight as I was making dinner, I had the blessed opportunity to share food with this holy Jesus Pup.  At first, I felt tight, stingy and afraid, as though if I gave “mine” away, I would starve.  But then I reflected on the plethora of generosity that the universe has been spilling out on me these days… and I realized how ridiculous it would be to hoard.  Food, money, opportunities, love, kindness… they have ALL been literally falling from the sky and landing all around me.  It would be absurd not to pour back out as the very universe, Herself!  I am gonna run outside and honk Brad’s horn in revelatory gratitude for the opportunity to share my ridiculous abundance.  In gratitude for the opportunity to see my frivolous, indignant judgments of such a holy creature and toss them in the voracious flames of Truth for purification.

Dang, it’s past my bedtime!  Off I go.  If you hear someone honking, don’t fret, it’s just me, praising the Lord…

Amen!

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