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…

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Backstroking Through Vivid Forgiveness

Before I got in the pool this morning, I was ridden with anxiety and fear.  But I knew that even just seeing my life guard James’s kind, smiling face would put my quivering heart at ease.  James.  He is such a good person.  So is Jason, the other half of the dynamic life guard duo.  Even just writing about them right now makes my heart want to explode like the mother of all fireworks.  Because come on… life guards do NOT get paid that much.  It’s not a high profile, glamour job.  I used to consider being a life guard from time to time when I felt desperate and confused about my path… All of the other life guards that work at my pool are way less generous of heart.  They are generally younger and look like they are bored out of their minds and actually resent me for the fact that they are “forced” to be sitting there climbing their own hidden walls for ten dollars an hour.  But not James and Jason.  It’s obvious that they give a flying fuck, a fuck that flies courtesy of a pair of over the top, gossamer wings~ if you saw them you’d wonder if someone slipped some acid in your cappuccino when you had your back turned… I love those kind of winged fucks!

Ahem.  Flying fucks.  James and Jason are some kind of saints or angels in disguise as highly normal men.  But I feel so loved and loving every time I take a morning swim.  Jason and I have this secret hello we exchange, usually as I make my goose bumpy mad dash, fresh and wet from the shower, out into the frigid morning air (that’s right, who’s alive?!?!) in my little two piece athletic swimmy (term of endearment for “swim suit”) and flail into the not quite warm water.  We exchange a modest “wave”, involving the repeated bending and straightening of our right index fingers.  (Goodbye is the pinky).  James is an older black man.  He wears clean, crisp, brand name athletic jumpsuits.  I think he’s missing a tooth or two, and the ones still hanging on to their gums look like they could use some TLC from a dentist.  His finger nails are usually extra long and dirty.  His laugh is deep and resonant.  Rich, slow and gurgling with authentic joy.  It reminds me of a negro spiritual… Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, or Wade in the Water.  Jason… I’m pretty sure he’s hot for me.  For being a pretty average guy, he makes fantastic eye contact.  I know my lifeguards got my back.  And I don’t take it lightly… usually.  God, please give back to Jason and James a thousand fold of what they give to us devoted swimmers…

James greeted me this morning and I tasted that delicious, hoped for hope.  The water felt extra warm, which was so soothing to me.  It felt sensuous, tropical and womb-esque.  I swam with the intention of being at peace.  I thought of Amma.  She will be here next week.  Thank GOD.  I am so ready to fold into the safety and divine comfort that waft from her like an inherent fragrance.  Many times I begin to cry, inexplicably, from the depths of my being when she enters the temple.  I love watching her sit in meditation.  Her obvious absorption in the folds of holy peace is so soothing and inspiring to me.  So I swam through tropical waters, fixing my mind on this embodiment of unconditional love.  This mother of the universe.  Except my mind kept slipping back into its well-worn groove of fear.

I realized that I am like an infant on my path to God.  Except way more self loathing than your garden variety infant.  It would serve me to be more infantish… in the way of innocence, presence, forgiveness.  How many times does an infant fall down when they are learning to walk?  A gazillion.  They may or may not cry… but they certainly don’t beat themselves up.  And here I am… learning to live in deep trust and alliance with the All Pervading Love of the universe and beyond… but forgetting so often that I am not alone, that I am loved and held and deeply precious.  And every time I wake up and remember that I have forgotten~ A-GAIN, I feel disappointed in myself.  I feel hopeless and frustrated.  I just want to wake up already.  I want to perceive the light inside, already…  I want to feel a love that has no reason, no beginning and certainly no end.  I guess an apropos word for my experience is impatience.  As I moved through the warm, buoyant, aqua heaven, I thought I’d like to be more like an infant.  When I fall from remembrance, I will simply forgive the fall, the hard ground, my lack of coordination and just pick myself up and merge right back into my natural state of presence induced wonder.  If I’m not as perfected yet as I wish I was, the next best thing to be is humble and patient, I suppose.

What IS this world?  I want to look upon the multiplicity of forms with such unapologetic severity that I penetrate the illusion and see the underlying something that lives in everything.  Today I want not just to see, but to SEE.  Do you know what I mean?  I mean that I want to dive beneath the waves of my ever fluctuating mind and experience a quiet presence.  Right here.  Right now.  I want to be deafened by the roaring sound of OM, that singings everything into holy existence.  This lonely, single syllable.  I want to merge with this lonely, single syllable, so that I am proactively singing as the entire choir of creation.

That reminds me… I keep having dreams about playing my harmonium.  I yearned to have one… so that I could paint invisible, inner space with “sonic lotuses”… So my very divine, very biological mother gave me one for my birthday last year… And like many of my heart’s dreams and desires, it sits, neglected, collecting tragic dust as I procrastinate and flounder in fear of the arduously slow unfolding of the lotus otherwise known as my Destiny.  But it has been calling to me so loud and clear from the nocturnal folds of my psyche.  I must play my harmonium.  I don’t know how.  But who cares!  I know I could just BE with it, and it would tell me a lot about who it is and who I am, and how we can form a divinely inspired alliance and create sonic lotuses to grace to this world, who perpetually thirsts for offerings of sacred beauty.

I forgive.  I forgive.  I forgive.  I forgive.  I forgive.  I forgive.

Amen.