I finished my tantra yoga immersion three days ago, and I’m still trying to make sense of it. Compared to the Ananda Yoga teacher training I just finished, this one seemed haphazard and all over the place. Mining the gifts bestowed upon me over the seven days of the training has been like being on a treasure hunt in a midnight labyrinth. Because of who I am, I find this simultaneously frustrating and exhilarating. Heck yes, I like to work! And yet, do I really need to pay a thousand dollars to work so hard? But let’s not hang out in that frivolous mind fuck. I have way more important layers to unpack.

On the second to last day, a woman asked the teacher a question that, like a loose spark, ignited a blazing fire in me. Before I dive in, I want to meander three steps to the left, and say that I was repeatedly turned off by the nature of the questions that many of the students asked the teacher. From my “partial perception”, it seemed like many of the women were so quick to give their power over to the teacher. As if he was not a more mortal, but a Shiva dancing on a heaven-scraping pedestal. This play was reminiscent of the guru-disciple relationship… which I have some genuine reverence for. But the trouble with that, is that Pedro is not a guru. Nor does he portend to be one. He’s a man with a beautiful, truth-seeking soul, a strong, devoted practice and a burning drive to share what he has unearthed within himself. Anyway, lemme keep this plug concise- Stop giving away your power and TRUST YOURSELF. (and yes, I am saying this to myself, as well as to alla y’all.)

And now for the bread and butter of this blog. The woman’s question wasn’t really a question at all… it was more like a deep wound being voiced in a space where she felt safe to share, and hungry for healing. She confessed that she had issue with all of the devotional chanting (and general praises) to Lord Shiva we were doing. She confessed wounding around the masculine, and thus a preference to worship the Goddess. (In retrospect, I’m mildly amused by how Pedro grappled with response to her “question”. I mean what can you say to that, really?)

But hallelujah that our friend brought this issue to light! It is an important topic for us all to explore together, here in Athena Graceland. We ARE living in a sorely imbalanced world, at this time. I am stating the obvious here. We are killing each other, raping the earth, and limping along in a pathetic fever dream of “each man for himself”. It sucks.

BUT MEN ARE NOT TO BLAME.

Yes, you could certainly argue with me. A very convincing case at that. But WHY on earth would you argue for the right to BLAME? Blame blows. As an esteemed ambassador for the New World, I am here to tell you that it is time to cleanse our calcified misgivings in the holy waters of forgiveness.

Listen up. We are all in this together. We must stop dividing ourselves and come together as one human family. We are all children of God. And if the G-word turns you off, don’t choose to get hung up there and miss the message. Love. Love is the creative glue of the universe. And thru the eyes of Love, we all look exactly the same; equally, unsayably magnificent.

Yes, absolutely it is time for women to rise up. Goddess YES! Everywhere I turn, I am surrounded by wise, powerful and beautiful women who are waking from the dream of oppression, and rising up. Together. But if we condemn and despise our men, we are only striking against ourselves.

I was eating my lunch at the Berkeley Bowl on my way to the last day of class… feeling tender and premenstrual… and this dude looked me up and down, and I felt a mild twinge of disgust. I will testify that it sucks to be looked at like a piece of meat. But here’s the thing- men don’t know any better. They have all been trained by a society of low consciousness, where we’ve all passively agreed that it’s acceptable and even desirable to sell sex. And underneath the surface of this lie, we are ALL starving for genuine connection, acceptance, love.

Think about it- what good is it gonna do for me to close my heart to that man, who is simply ignorant. That will only serve to widen the divide. Women- stop condemning men for acting like dopes. It is time for us to come together and remember our wholeness, raise each other up. And from this foundation of unwavering self-love, true power and forgiveness, we must serve as guides and teachers for our men. Stand proud and glorious in who you ARE ,rather than pretending to be who you think you need to be in order to “get love”. We are each the SOURCE of Love. Ask for what you want. Acknowledge, praise and reward men when they get it right. We are all in this together. Just like men would not be here without women, women would not be here without men.

Women and men have different areas of strength and expertise. The time has come to recognize and celebrate our differences, and work together to co-create a balanced healthy world where love prevails.

What stories, misgivings, old wounds must YOU let go of, in order to step into this brave new paradigm of forgiveness and joyful co-operation? Please, on behalf of humanity, (not to mention the thrival of your own heart, body and soul…) LET GO. Let go of hurt and blame, and choose instead the joy of working together to build a world of peace, love and unity. Oh, and listen, don’t wait for others to “earn” your generosity. Live by example. The revolution is YOUR unconditional love.

Live,
A

And What Of King Edward?

I bet you’re wondering how it’s going with my married boyfriend, King Edward. It felt so tenuous, packing up my life and heading to the Momshram to dissolve and then become a butterfly. I think that’s the true test of every Relationship- Is it spacious enough; clear and solid in its foundation, such that both parties have room to grow at their own pace, without appearing as a threat to the other or the whole.

I was afraid. Afraid to let go of what Ed and I had shared up until my departure ( and also relieved to let go of it). Afraid of losing him. Afraid of becoming too powerful. Afraid that if I tuned deeper into God, God would tell me to ditch him. And all of these fears were not so subtle by the time I arrived at Ananda. Like hooded cobra snakes, they slithered right up into my excessively serious face and bared their venomous fangs. Every day while I was in the training, I felt myself stretching, shedding, becoming… And every day, I would call Ed and share. Some days, the sharing was expansive and harmonious. Some days, the sharing created distance and dissonance.

With Ed, I *know* I am in trouble when a grave silence falls upon the line. It didn’t take me long at all to learn that. Silence means that I have tripped a land mine inside him, and he’s in the implosion process. But he’s not ready to talk about it yet. He has to take some space and sort himself out… and return to me after some time, to share his murky depths.

But it’s kinda beautiful, right? That I’ve come to know (AND ACCEPT) him well enough to recognize and make peace with his process. Believe me, it takes immense patience to navigate these realms. But when “they” said “patience is a virtue”, “they” were *not* just blowing smoke out of their booty holes. And if you ask me, true wealth is found in the coin of virtues. I want to be RICH!!! And I AM, by now. Thanks to Ed, and all the practice he gives me!!!!

I think it’s a very key point that I just stumbled on, when I told you that I was afraid that as I became more intimate with God, God would tell me that I should leave Ed. My soul yearns to live fully surrendered to God, that I may be a willing and humble channel for the Light. And too, I yearn to join my life with Ed’s, because our hearts are already joined. But given that he’s already married and still has a fifteen year old prince living at home, it just seems way too complicated some days.

But every time we hit a bump in the road, we both kept showing up. Though I am embarrassed to tell you how many times I went to class with a mangled, bleeding heart… Some might say too many. I say, it is ALL God’s will. And plus, as soon as I shifted my focus to learning, and relaxed into the presence of my classmates- twenty of the most open, loving, kind, supportive, luminous human beings on the planet (!!!!!), plus a slew of brilliant, devoted teachers, the seething wound in my heart would seal up and I would receive a miraculous transfusion of peace and freshly oxygenated surrender. Then later, I’d return to Ed with renewed patience, compassion and commitment to being my best and receiving his best. (And ask me how many times he would astound me by showing up with a rendition of his BEST that was unprecedented and managed to bring me to my humbled and well-lubricated knees!)

I don’t want to get lost in the details of our stumbles through the jungles of intimacy… but I will share that I had a potent victory around surrender. You know those moments with your partner where you disagree on something that *seems* fundamental, and you find yourself in a heated and unpleasant game of offense/defense… and in order to move forward, ONE of you must back down, soften, compromise, let go of the need to be right…. (INSERT ominous music and SCREAM HERE) God… when we rouse each other’s edges in this realm, it can feel so scary. Like I might lose myself, my freedom. Like I might DIE.

A couple of weeks ago, we were *blessed* with one of these situations. Because we have been through it enough times now, and I know how much it blows to butt heads, I decided to *play* a new game… JUST THIS ONCE. I handed Ed the reigns; let him have total control in a realm where in the past, he has felt powerless. I’ll tell you WHAT- It was the smartest thing I ever did. As soon as I let go, he felt heard, honored, respected, considered. And HE let go too. At once the battleground became strewn with flower petals, beneficent sunlight stabbed through the clouds, and the music turned to gushing string quartets. I recommend being the first one to let go. Rather than incurring death (except of that which is unreal in the first place), it vivifies and brightens life and love. At least it has the potential to do this, when offered with pure and loving intent.

So now, five weeks and two days after kissing goodbye, I will testify that Ed and I are more in love than EVER before. I am so pleased to say and feel and know that rather than eroding our connection, my surrender to this calling to greater heights of my Self has brought us deeper, and higher; into new realms of trust, intimacy and partnership.

Ed is everything I could ask for in a partner. I started to list all the qualities I love about him just now… But I got shy and deleted them. Because I realized that I could gush on forever, and it sounded like propaganda. Plus, all these things mean so much to ME… but to YOU, the reader… you might just roll your eyes, or fall asleep all together. So suffice to say, he is the one I choose. I feel met on every level, beyond my wildest dreams (Which is not to say that we don’t struggle. Obviously we DO. It’s how we both choose to SHOW UP in the struggles). We can communicate without saying a word, and he feels every little micro movement of my heart and soul. I will stand by him pure devotion as he slowly, lovingly frees himself from his glorious, karmic tangle. And I will do it JOYFULLY.

Amen.

The End. (Or Not…)

If my life were a porcelain puzzle, somebody just snatched it out of God’s ever-open hand, scrambled to the top of the Statue of Liberty, and cast it down to the platinum dance floor below.  Okay.  That’s extreme.  And my life is not.  In fact, I almost want to start this blog over again.  But the image of the porcelain puzzle is so evocative.  And my life is certainly breaking apart, as it must from time to time.  Om namah Shivaya.

 

But maybe I should’ve begun my entry like this:

 

As I was leaving the Momshram precisely one week ago, my Ma said to her utterly adorable and perfect young cat, Jupi, “Jupi, go say bye to Athena.  She’s gotta go back to Oakland and get back to her soap opera.”  Yes!  I swear to God, she said that.  It poked me in a tender place.  My first reaction was a low-caliber “ouch”.  But after the initial sting, naturally, I had to laugh!  My soap opera… I never even WATCHED soap operas!

 

But if you held up her life alongside mine, like two intricate and masterfully crafted, oversized snowflakes, mine would definitely more closely resemble a soap opera.  Sigh.  Oh well.  I am here to learn lessons of Love… and sometimes the curriculum makes me go, “huh?”… or “whoa!”…or “OUCH!!!!!!”.  (I was thinking of that C&C Music Factory song, “things that make you go hmmm”.  Lordy, the wonders that lie dormant in the folds of the human mind!…)

 

A few years ago, right here in the glowing, literary sanctity of Athena Graceland, I declared myself a tumbling student of the School of Mostly Soft Knocks.  But today, as a turn inward, and consider the lessons of the past year… I feel that there is a better adjective for my knocks of late than “soft”.  No, they’re certainly not hard, either.  But they DO sting, in a way that softness never could.  Neither hard nor soft… I’m gonna go with… The School of Sporadically Stinging Knocks… with some soft ones in between.

 

I think Ed and I might be done for a while.  Maybe.  Although I bought him a tomatillo plant yesterday… and I sure wish I could give it to him!  Maybe he’ll bust through the door of Pizzaiolos any second, pausing in the threshold, a mighty silhouette, John Wayne meets the Terminator… and then stride to my table and take me in his arms and kiss me long and deep and loving, then look in my eyes and say, “I want to keep growing with you, Athena.  I hit a wall, but I trust that love will dissolve it.  And I am willing!”

 

I really would NOT put that past him.  He’s been growing at such a rapid pace over the past year.  It has been extraordinary to witness.  I feel honored and privileged to have participated thus far.  But maybe like a kid who is growth spurting all over the place, he needs to take a pause so that he doesn’t split his skin open or something…  That would suck.

 

Dost Thou wonders what happened?  Well, I guess, basically, we are from different cultures.  Does that make it impossible for us to meet in love?  I say no way jose!  But it does take a clear recognition that this is the case…. and a willingness to understand and accept one another, given our different wiring and world views.  We would need to agree to disagree on some matters.  And love ourselves enough to be at peace with the inevitable gaps.  Sounds a little bit complicated, doesn’t it?  Well… too bad, because I’m a believer.  I believe that Love is stronger than anything.  And yet… I’m only masochistic to a point.

 

I’m pretty sure he wanted me to cut a certain friendship out of my life, because the man makes him feel… uncomfortable.  Threatened, even.  Whenever this topic rose to the surface, it caused us both a lot of pain.  And the beauty of the human mechanism, is that we are wired to avoid pain, so that we will survive and endure and continue to extend our species through the endless corridors of time.  So we did our best to avoid the topic for some time.  Inhale.  Exhale.

 

Yeah. I need to breathe a lot, because I just got an email from Ed.  And I couldn’t do anything but RIP it open like a kid in a horror movie set on christmas morning.   Yes, that was dramatic again.  But in the name of poetry.  But if I was gonna say it plain, I’d say that reading it made my heart shudder incessantly and my guts twist in a pre-puke-rush.  Lord.  I don’t understand.

 

Basically, I think Ed was asking me to abandon this said friendship, so that he would not need to feel threatened.  I think… I’m still not exactly sure what happened, because my head is spinning and my heart is shedding a waterfall of internal tears.  Anyway, I expressed to him that I will never stop loving the way I love.  No, that doesn’t mean sexualized loving.  Just open, authentic, vulnerable, nourishing connections with quality human beings.  (I loooove what my minister, Reverend E says on occasion- if there is ANYONE who you think of… and a smile does not spread across your face, YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.  That was just a word from our sponsor, btw…)

 

“You must really love that man,” Ed commented when I drew my sacred circle in the sand last night.

 

No… it’s not about “that man”, I told him.  It’s principal.  I need to be trusted and supported in my life and relationships.  I’m not the kind of weak woman who will close her heart off,  just to make her man feel safe and secure.  I love MYSELF, I told him.  I do.  But unfortunately loving myself does NOT mean that I don’t hurt like fuck.  Yes, in case there was any question, I HURT.

 

But I am hurting in God’s embrace.  I feel this in my bones.  And all I can do is surrender.

 

Last night he said “Bye” to me.  Via Facebook messaging.  It was just after nine pm.  I was in bed with the lights out.  Nearing the precipice of slumber.  The word and his finality stung like a hard slap, and then the quiet of death settled like an invisible, suffocating fog, over everything.  I was stunned.  And yet calm.  All I could do was pray to God.  God, please be here with me.  I surrender to You, God.  Be here with me.  And be with Ed.  Let us both find comfort in Love’s embrace.

 

Sleep.  It came flirtatiously near… but no closer.  Instead, I spent the night feeling mostly sober and lucid after a bad acid trip.  I dreamed dreams that woke me with a pounding heart and sweaty sheets.  And yet, still I knew that God was cradling me.

 

Ahhh… here come the tears.  They have been evading me until now.  But I feel dropped.  Like a porcelain puzzle.  Off the Statue of Liberty.  Oh well, NOTHING REAL CAN BE THREATENED.  NOTHING UNREAL EXISTS.  This is from A Course in Miracles.  And I know it’s true.  Even when it doesn’t FEEL that way.  Ahhhh feelings.  They are *NOT* for wusses.  NO WAY.

 

I dunno.  I guess that’s about all I have to say right now…

 

Except I want to say to Edward… Ed, if you change your mind and want to keep growing with me, and consider that there is a beautiful world on the other side of your wall, that is YOURS FOR THE LOVING, I am still here.  You still have much to learn, and I would be honored to hold your and and continue to be your guide, your friend and your lover.  Boner.

 

Live,

A

The Past: Letting Go Into Unconditional Love

I was cleaning out my closet yesterday afternoon, because I have an aversion to needless “stuff”, and I came upon the scrapbook that my ex-fiance and I compiled over the course of our five years together.  Five years… once upon a time, that seemed like a lot.  But now… well, it’s been five years since we broke up.  Almost exactly five years.  I know, because yesterday, when I opened our scrapbook, I discovered a flattened package of “vanilla-neem” ayurvedic soap, next to which, my sloppy, pink, hand-written caption stated that it was the last box of soap Eric and I shared before we separated!  The date was May fifth, 2008.  I was sublimely tickled by my slanted sentimentality.

 

My intention was to toss the heavy, oversized book (that we stumbled upon at Thrift Town, back in the day), artistically plastered with the past into the trash.  Because why would I haul that around?  Truthfully, I felt crushed a coupla years ago when Eric told me he was gonna trash our Cuba photo album.  And *beyond* crushed when he refused to reach out and take my hand when I proposed continued friendship last year.  In fact, here is an excerpt from the last email he sent me in the fall:

 

“If I have a protective shell up between you and I, it is there for good reason.  For my reasons.  And you are not inside my shell.  You will not be inside my shell again.  It is my place.  For me.  And more and more for Erin.  I don’t say this to try and hurt you, though I can imagine it does hurt.  I only want to be clear on where I am.  And I want you to understand that as well.  If we are to be friends, we must come together from this moment and not from the past.  I feel that you are still loving me from the past.”

 

THE PAST.

 

The past… And here I sit, on this first day of may, twenty thirteen, trying to grasp what it is to let go of the past.  I’d like to think I’m a pretty skilled little bodhisattva, fashionably perched upon the illumined throne of holy nowness… but then… why can I not bring myself to toss this large, heavy book full of countless expressions of our shared love and life?

 

And in service to getting naked upon the page, I must say that it stung me to read that he felt that I was still loving him from the past.  Probably because he’s right.  But god, it bruises my lousy pride to consider that my loving is so remedial that it is founded in the long-dissolved and glorified dream of days now dead and gone.  When I read those words for the second time, I took a long wonder… How DO I love him from the PRESENT?  And I was sad to realize that the answer was simply to hear him.  And accept his desire for space.  So I have been.  But truthfully, I still have more forgiving to do… because I can feel this *subtle* bitter twinge of self-righteousness swirl inside me when I think of him.  Like he’s WRONG and FOOLISH for rejecting my invitation into proactively evolving our love and connection.  I must admit, it really does seem that way.  I mean, I’m ATHENA GRACE LMNOP, for Jesus’s sake!!!  And I love like a heavyweight champ.  Who WOULDN’T want to hit this heart???

 

Eric.  That’s who.  And I have the opportunity to deepen my practice of UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.  Ya see?  It’s conditional love if I am waiting for him to want to be my friend.   It’s conditional love if I find fault in his desire for space.  It’s conditional love if I cast myself as the enlightened one, for wanting to stay connected, while casting him as the stingy jerk for choosing to live his life without me in it.  Sigh… I guess I’M the stingy jerk for feeling so perpetually tempted to find fault in his choices.

 

But I spose I oughtn’t shoot the messenger.  People stream through our lives to teach us so many shades of lesson.  I mean, if I was busy white-knuckle grasping the perfect picture of how it is SUPPOSED to be with Eric at this point… then I wouldn’t be available to this profound opportunity to explore what it is to love someone unconditionally; or to fully release the past.  Honestly, these are skills I would REALLY love to master.  I’m looking now at ALL my relationships… yes, every single one… and seeing how easy it is to “love” from memory.  Like Ed and I shared some glorious time together yesterday… and that most recent emotional impression informs how my heart feels about him today.  And my Ma… we have shared so much laughter.  And she is so generous in her practice of accepting me no matter what I choose in my life.  Or even Anitra, who I HAVEN’T connected with in a while… and began to imagine that she STOPPED loving me (AS IF!)… But…

 

All of that is a glorified bushel of shriveled yesterdays, at this point.  How do we do it?  How does one courageously toss every glimmering shell of yesterday into the transformative fires of forgiveness and simply LOVE… without limit; without “reason”?

 

I ask…

 

And then I sit in contemplative quiet… I feel my heart swell and shine with intimate warmth.  My heart says it is very simple.  Too simple.  My heart says I AM love.  Not love the concept.  Love, the radiant, eternal, indwelling presence.  It is my mind who complicates this undeniable, unwavering truth.  So ya know what I’m gonna do?  I’m gonna keep meditating every day.  Sitting and sinking deeper into Silence.  And letting that quiet place teach me; inform my choices and my movement through this seductive river of dream images.  Yes!  I’m signing up for a permanent subscription to simplicity.  Not that this will obliterate the complexity and chaos of the world… But it doesn’t need to.  Nah… it’s just a sweet sanctuary to nestle into from time to time, as I haul my fat, gravitationally challenged ass up the endless summits of this human life.

 

Live,

A

 

All We Can Really Do Is Live It…

com·pel [kuhthinsp.pngthinsp.pngm-pel]

verb (used with object)

1.

to force or drive, especially to a course of action: His disregard of the rules compels us to dismiss him.

2.

to secure or bring about by force.

3.

to force to submit; subdue.

4.

to overpower.

5.

Archaic. to drive together; unite by force; herd.

verb (used without object)

6.

to use force.

7.

to have a powerful and irresistible effect, influence, etc.

 

Just before I began this blog, I was compelled to pull up youtube and have a listen to Beck’s song, Loser.  That was random!  Haven’t heard that song since high school.  But the video showed the words on the screen, and I sang along all angsty and had a good laugh about it!  But that’s not really why I included the definition of compel here in Mrs. Graceland…

 

Listen, I have tons of really brambly, nutrient dense, karmic stew to digest here on the page… but first I’ve gotta get some cheap, silly shit off my chest.  Namely that in the bathtub this am, I realized how amazing it would be if somebody did a remake of the 80s movie, The Goonies… that was “The Ghetto Goonies”, or “Goonies in the Hood”… Right?!?!  I know this dates me, and if you’re all old and out of touch (wink), then you’ll just have to take my word for it… because I am the Goddess of Wisdom and Strategic War… and I know some shizz about some shizz… It would be a primarily black cast… and they’d say shit like…. Dang!  I forgot what I was hearing in my  head in the tub… and I just spent like an hour trying to figure out some hella clever line to remix, gansta style, but it didn’t come.  And it’s giving my brain a cramp and kinking my stream of conscious ness to try and whip one out.  But trust me when I say it’s a hands down brilliant idea.

 

And now back to the land of compulsion… I can’t remember exactly what I told you about the relational climate between Ed and I, in the previous installment of the Graceland Chronicles…  Oh yeah!  I gave him the ultimatum to GROW WITH ME or get lost, and he said he needed space to think about that.  And meanwhile he was slinging a bunch of blame my way for “cheating on him”!!!!  Hahahaha.  You might not think that’s funny… because you  might believe that being in a relationship where your married boyfriend is slinging blame at you is “unhealthy”… and heck, you might even be RIGHT about that!  But I think it’s funny, because it’s clearly not about ME at all.  The poor man is wrestling his own zillion-fanged, reptilian predator of a shadow!  I didn’t cheat or betray.  I’ve been honest all along.

 

But anyway, I am choosing not to make his acting out from insecurity and fear the most important thing.  (Hey wait!  I’ve gotta pause and celebrate, because from my towering third story window, I can see a shirtless man on a distant rooftop, sitting in a chair, reading a book!  Mostly I only see people on other roofs briefly appear to smoke a cigarette.  But he’s stone-cold chillin, sipping words and worlds, as he imbibes his daily dose of vitamin D.  Like.  And PS~ it’s eleven am, and the sun is just beginning to burn through the fog.  For the last few days, we have had Mists of Avalon mornings here in the Land of Oaks.  Thick, liquid cotton candy, swaddling the city in mystery… and every day I await the revelation of a hidden and enchanted land.  If not “outside”, certainly WITHIN… and now back to our previously scheduled program:)

 

So yeah, I’m not taking Ed’s shadow boxing match personally.  And it is never difficult to recognize his Great Ness.  Except when it is… but that’s an inevitability when loving any human being.  We see their best, their shimmering, show-stopping divine potential… and yet we love them for who they ARE, all warty and self-limiting.  Well… at least we have that option.  And in my thirty three trips (plus about a bajillion other incarnations) around our blazing gas ball, this is the best way I have found to love other human beings.

 

So there I was, burning in the threat of Ed’s sudden absence from my daily and hourly existence… praying to God non-stop for some sort of grace to make me strong enough to let go… and for a minute I thought I could do it.  But then I asked him to come over yesterday, to say mantra (something we do together regularly, before my altar, me, nestled in his lap, yab yum style…) hold each other and talk/listen.  Because GET REAL– even if we decide to stop seeing each other, it must come from a place of love and blessing, not from pain and disconnect.  No way!  I NEVER want to part ways with anyone in that fashion.  Then what happens if they DIE, or I die and we regret that we didn’t just love and forgive.

 

At first, he was hard and guarded.  But again, I didn’t take it personally.  I felt joy that he chose to step into me and connect!  And I let myself smile and love like my heart MUST.  Awe, I know, I know, cut to the chase, Athena.  This is a blog, not a million mile, medieval linguistic dead sea scroll…

 

I’m COMPELLED to say, that it felt SO GOOD to connect, hold each other, share, chant.  God that man turns me on on so many levels.  He had to leave before we were hella complete.  I didn’t want to let him go.  As soon as he walked out the door, I burst into tears in Venus’s arms.  I sobbed on and off for the rest of the afternoon… And I realized that I’M NOT READY TO LET GO OF HIM.

 

Fuck ultimatums and happily ever afters and perfect pictures.  The truth is, we’re probably NOT life partners.  The truth is, we do come from really different paradigms and subscribe to different world views.  The truth is that we love and know each other SO DEEPLY.  And I feel that we still have more to share.  At first I hated to admit that my truth is that regardless of the fact that he’s probably not ever gonna be my ONE, my husband, my baby daddy, my life-long partner, I don’t want to let go.  But after unsuccessfully trying to tame the snarling, fire-breathing beast of my desire, I found freedom in admitting what was true in my heart.  True, it didn’t measure up to the new-agey, holier than thou image I often delight in super-imposing myself into… But it was real.

 

And inside this COMPELLING desire to continue loving with Ed, I am asking myself questions like, AM I WILLING TO CHOOSE MONOGAMY with a married man?  God, I typed that sentence out and washed with sassy shame!  Shame at how it must sound from the outside.  Pathetic.  But I’ll tell you WHAT- suddenly all of the old Billie Holliday songs make tons of sense.  “My man he isn’t true, he beats me too… what can I do?  Cuz I love him…”  Hahaha.  You should hear me laughing out loud at myself.  Because I can hardly believe I’m saying this shit.  I know myself to be a Goddess.  And a strong-assed Wonder Woman type.  Well I’m here to tell you that life ain’t black and white.  Uh-uh.  It’s affinity shades of PINK!!!!!  Tee-hee!

 

God, I love myself for being so willing to be in the Game.  And continue to love myself as best I can, be raw and honest and laugh at all of it… when I’m not crying.  Although last night when my Friend (with a capital F), Basin kept capturing my tears in the little tear collection vial he wore around his neck, my sobs turned to unbridled peals of laughter on a very hot dime.   That’s what I call LIVING!  (Love you Basin!)

 

So am I willing to be “monogamous” with my married boyfriend?  The answer is yes, for now.  I am very satiated by all that we share… and am willing to hear more about what sort of boundaries he needs in order to feel safe to keep opening deeply with me (and as well share my needs and wants).  And then, we can try it out for say, a month.  Listen people, NOTHING in this life is as permanent as we WISH it was… So let’s just play and explore.  Make up new games and see what happens…

 

Anyway, that’s were I’m at.

 

And I feel so joyous to be engaged in the messy process of life without attachment to the FUTURE.  Process oriented living, man…  I’m tellin ya… it’s the new Beethoven.  Some day, maybe I’ll give myself over to the starchy, black and white heaven of ultimatums and happily ever afters.  Really.  And it could be as soon as this afternoon.  But for NOW, I am so happy to simply be me.  Unfiltered, imperfect, naked and exploratory.  What I DO know about myself, is that I learn from EVERYTHING I live.  I take it deep inside me and through the alchemical Grace of God, it becomes the coins and jewels of divine wisdom that I am able to generously sprinkle upon the differentiated sea of otherness; all who must navigate similar labyrinths of the heart and soul.  Life… I hear myself smilingly say, as I inhale deep and full… All we can do, really, is LIVE IT.

 

Live,

A

Climbing Back On The Unicorn And Leading Us Home

Well, if you’ve lived as long as you have, certainly you are well aware that when you fall of a horse, duh, you climb right back on and keep riding.  At least in an ideal world… and there are certainly no shortage of ideal worlds leaping brazenly in our pallid faces from around just about every projected corner.  Sigh.  The bitter sweetness of those myriad ideal worlds… On one hand, they keep us reaching higher and digging deeper, which is not only bitchin, but essential… and on the other hand, they tend to blind us from the organic, irregular splendor of the perpetually moving sidewalk of Holy Right Now.

 

And now for our official first digression du jour!   Back to our ideal world, where we are all falling off and climbing on and falling off and… but I am wondering= can the same be said for falling off a unicorn?  Cuz that’s what I was riding, until it bucked me off and I ate a strawberry field forever full of dirt!  Yes, I’m referring to my recent tumble from the written world of Athena Graceland.  I haven’t blogged for like a month and a half.  God, sitting here in the maggoty aftermath of that statement, I feel a crying scream as massive as a natural disaster reverberating so deep in the chasm of my gravitational center… I guess sometimes we learn what matters to us by letting it go… For me life without writing has felt like being a forsaken spaceman without an umbilical chord.  Weightless and at the mercy of endless black (with no space-ice cream to speak of, either!).

 

But HARK!  I’ve wrastled myself back into a field of gravity and self-inflicted meaning!  And all from the succulent privacy of my own tousled bed!  Seven fifty four on a sunday morning.  Straddling the strong, white-washed velveteen back of my unicorn as words deluge from my heaving, relieved finger tips.  From my perch in bed, I watched the sky yawn and hurl vast smears of languid electric peach and smoky lavender.  Another day!

 

Another day… Okay… It’s time for me to address the “tragedy” in Connecticut.  I just really don’t understand why THIS loss of human lives is so much more SPECIAL than the fractaling multiplicity of human sufferings and injustice that occur all over the planet with every single privileged in and out breath we are blessed to sip.  I mean… it’s true.  I welled up with tears when I saw the gorgeous, beaming face of the blond, blue-eyed angel who is no more among us… and read the story of the valiant teacher who hid her students in cabinets when she heard the shots and then told the killer that they were in the gym, before he proceeded to shoot her to death.  What a wretched nightmare.   But why is that different from entire, innocent villages being bombed in war zones, or domestic violence or gang warfare or starving children in Africa???  I DON’T GET IT.

 

Okay, I do AND I don’t… It’s like the “beef industry”.  You go to a restaurant and order a “burger” or a “steak” and it’s so easy to conveniently forget that you’re actually eating a DEAD COW.   A dead cow whose life was 100% suffering from day one.  Manufactured suffering and hormones and antibiotics and corporate big business.  A wide and deep brown-eyed, furry sentient being.  Out of sight out of mind.  Burgers taste good.  And I am warm now, nestled in my soy/bamboo sheeted bed, regarding a vase of pink and yellow flowers slowly, imperceptibly decomposing on my dining room table.  What do I know of death and loss?

 

Very little.  Except that if I consider it, I remember that EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US will eventually exit this world… But mostly I am too busy obsessively stalking my own paltry comfort and illusory “success”.  But that’s not really where I want to go with all this… I want to ask you… ISN’T IT OBVIOUS BY NOW THAT WE ARE ONE GLOBAL FAMILY?  Every life is God’s life.  And God’s life is ONE LIFE.  And if the word “God” puts you off, substitute it for any other word that stimulates your inner knowing of the truth which lives silent and ever awake at the center of everything.

 

Is tightening our policies around gun control REALLY gonna mend and heal this broken world of ours?  Pssshhh… NO.  I’ll bet anything and everything on that statement.  I will.  That’s no better that putting a Sponge Bob bandaid on a slashed jugular.  We will NOT solve our collective problems from the same consciousness that created them.  At this point it’s awaken AS LOVE or BUST.  Fuck this “victim and villain” shit– the murderer is “bad” and the bereft families are “good”.  That’s merely live, hollywood theatrics.  It’s masturbatory indulgence at best.  Someone who is sick enough to go on a children-killing spree is MOST IN NEED OF BEING SHOWERED IN ENDLESS LOVE AND FORGIVENESS. I can almost hear you upchucking at this ballzy statement… but I stand fixed in this assertion.  We are all divine children.  Locking another fallen angel in a miserable cell for the rest of their life is NOT going to save our cock-eyed world!  We need to lift our bursting hearts and do a blinding rendition of the care bear’s stare (http://youtu.be/NHjd9oq4Am4) on him until he is dripping wet with Sacred Remembrance.   Don’t tell me to be “realistic”.  I am.  This is as real as it gets.

 

And now for the practical application of this gospel:  It’s time to wake up and stop dividing God.  See everyone, and when I say “everyone”, I mean EVERYONE as your Brother and Sister.  NO EXCEPTIONS.  And if you can’t, then fall to your blessed knees and pray for forgiveness to cleanse your perceptions.  We are all the same.  I could riff on the nuances of this ISness for days… but I’ve got to get in the shower now.

 

Just think on this:  How do you treat your Brothers and Sisters?

 

Feel my love.  It is your love.  Feel your love.  It is God’s love.  Feel God’s love it is infinite and ever smiling behind all the multiplicity of appearances.

 

Amen.

Judge Ye Not, Freaky People!

At my mom’s ashram, they do a purification ceremony every Sunday before service. It is an opportunity to release something in your life that “seems” to stand between one and God. (Sheesh, now that I think about that, it’s a pretty ridiculous notion… that illusions can come between God and God… Oh well, welcome to the sacred waste lands of duality.) I find it almost unbearably charming that every week my beloved mother writes the very same thing on her little piece of paper and with the blessing of the Masters, offers it to the sacred fires. Any guesses as to what that blasted one thing is? Mom? Can I please tell ‘em? For the sake of a good parable… Judgment. Yup. That cunning, sexy ogre in siren’s clothing… It hovers like a thirsty mosquito, on the edge of our consciousness… waiting for us to make the slightest slip from full presence and into an indulgent, masturbatory state of division, assumption, ranking. I realize I just spoke for you… was that presumptuous? Well… Maybe, but I’m gonna stand behind my assertion that you are as hideously judgmental as me and my spiritually inspired, all too human mother. Because where there is ego, there is judgment. And if I have unfairly pigeonholed you, I apologize and maybe you can skip merrily down the page to the place where the prose get coated with rainbow sprinkles and marshmallow crème sauce. I bring it up because I have been hyper aware of my habits of “ranking” myself in relation to others. I am pretty embarrassed to say this out loud… but it’s the stinging truth… so… I toss it in the shimmering air, release it like a flock of white doves falling upward into Heaven’s arms. According to my judgmental mind, there are three classes of people (and probably sub-classes within the more general classes). #1~ Those who are “above” me~ meaning more spiritually advanced, successful, creative, hip, savory, peaceful, expressive, confident, etc. My way of relating to this elite group is to become submissive, softer spoken and very interested. I yearn for them to SEE me and like me and MAYBE even accept me as “one of them”… God, does this make me want to puke… #2~ Those who are equal to me. Buddies. Amongst my inspired, inspiring, mostly awake equals, I generally feel very relaxed and sfree to be me~ goofy, deep, honest, wild, lonely, scared, dreamy, etc. #3~ Those who are below me. Meaning they aren’t as enlightened, fun, healthy, attractive, etc. With “them” I PRETEND to be accepting, but underneath that cheap candy coated façade, I am domineering, self righteous, conceited or just downright bored. Isn’t that repulsive? It sure does get in the way of seeing and communing with our All Pervading Peek-A-Boo Freak. But I am practicing vigilantly to set myself free from that bunk game again and again and again. Just like my ritual paper burning mama… My soul-sister-girl-friend back in Oaktown, Dara, recently listened to a Carolyn Myss recording that rocked her world. She told me that Carolyn Myss spoke of the invitation to see every single person that the currents of Grace carry into our lives as an opportunity for communion, for learning, for purification of Self. Which of course requires a sincere relinquishment of judgment. And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for a concrete, real time example! I hitchhiked to Hanalei yesterday afternoon so I could hit the farmer’s market and stock up on papayas and these beautiful purple sweet potatoes that I’ve been dreaming of making soup out of. I thought that every ride down Kauai’s heavenly highway would be simply tremulous with overt mysticism (you know like synchronicities and inspiring conversations and stuff). But yesterday, I was picked up by a woman who I quickly ranked “below” me. (God, I feel so ashamed to admit this to you!) Her car was a pretty sweet ride. Some kind of high end S.U.V. But inside, it was trashed. Mother of young children trashed. I immediately noticed her iPhone, whose face was as cracked as an insane asylum, and it was pumping out hard core electric dance music. Her toddler son was strapped in his car seat in the back. I turned around and said hello to him… and immediately flooded with an inexplicable sense of heaviness. Energetically, he seemed to be pretty well burdened. His mama was young and speedy. She reminded me of someone I might have met at a club in my early twenties when I was rolling on ecstasy and therefore smitten by the beauty and perfection of all things…and hence less discerning… and she would have been sloppy drunk and not very interesting, stimulating or deep, but I was too high to care and just relishing unconditionally witnessing her BE her divine, inebriated self. She dominated the conversation the whole time, which included her confession that she is an avid user of those new fangled little bottles of “5 hour energy”. Ah-ha! That explains why her gears were grinding so hard. She handed me the empty bottle of the one she had recently thrown back, which I studied with keen fascination. From behind her dark shades and thumping beats, she told me that she was twenty seven, had gone to design school in San Francisco but had resorted to starting a housecleaning business in order to survive on Kauai. Her daughter, age four was just starting preschool. She and the daddy were in the middle of a separation. (Like two thirds of the blasted population… honestly, have you noticed that? So many break-ups. Which if you want to know my expert LMN-OPinion, it’s because right now, the collective consciousness is birthing itself into an unprecedented crystallization of Self, a radical involution.) On one hand, I felt a sincere reverence for her strength as a young mother of two, doing what she needed to do to feed and shelter her munchy-kins. On the other hand… I could feel a visceral undercurrent of emotional malnourishment in her and her now sleeping son. She was clearly doing her best… and I perceived her best to be creating an unwieldy mess. It probably illuminated my own childhood wounding. Why did I give her my phone number when she dropped me off??? She asked for it… and I found it hard to say no. Frown. But I certainly don’t want to hang out with her just for shits and giggles. No way. God? Why did you send her to me, me to her? Was it just so that I’d have the blessed opportunity to forgive her for being what I perceived to be an emotionally unavailable mother? To forgive my mother for showing up that way in the past? To forgive the emotionally unavailable mother dormant, yet still alive somewhere within my very own self? Maybe… And if I forgive “hard enough”… will I be able to know God more fully? God… Please, grant me the Grace to look upon her and myself as One in your Holy All Pervading Light. Please shed light on the dark, moldy corners of my nightmare bound consciousness. May I know only Love within ALL. Amen. P.S.~ Just for the record, she was so generous, too… she drove past her destination to drop me at the market… and she even offered to pick me up after I shopped! (which I politely declined…)

Sleep-Blogging (First Cousin to Sleepwalking)

It’s late and the space inside me feels like reverently humming twilight sky: enchanting emptiness.  I wasn’t going to blog.  I approached the blank, glowing screen about a half an hour ago and lost my appetite.  I just couldn’t find anything in here that seemed worth sharing.  But Mykael coaxed me to at least step onto the page and announce that.  So… attention everyone~ (trumpet thunder and drum squeals) I don’t have it in me to blog tonight!  (It’s a song!)  I… don’t… have… IT… IN…meeeee… to blog… Toooo niiiight.  (And a dance!)  I bled heavily today… and my mind has flown away… I just wanna go pa-lay with the Sandman.  It’s so quiet in Athena GraceLand.  (A cabaret dance with feathers, flower petals, cobra snakes and ridiculously high heels!)

God, now that I’ve stepped onto the page, I feel so seduced by this sacred practice of uncorking and pouring myself into the virtual chalice that seems to exist outside you… but does it REALLY?  Or are these words but a dazzling dream scape smokey, mirrorish trick?  Perhaps everything that is falling out of me is *really* falling out of Your very vast and vivid imagination… Honestly friends, the bottom of this is whole reality construct might actually be the ceiling, or better yet the sky!  Don’t be so satiated by quick answers spewed by archaic experts. (Unless of course they have a respectable LMNOP after their sacred name.)

And while I’m on the subject, I just want to report that I woke up feeling so heavy with despair.  Like a baby waking up with a soaked diaper.  My figurative diaper was brimming with heartache and loneliness.  I didn’t know how I would survive this day.  So I reread an email that Souldipper wrote me the previous day, because it was chalk-full of soul fortifying words.  That jumpstarted a blessed mental shift.  Then in my meditation I asked my spirit guides to help me release my anxiety around managing the plethora of logistics that need to be handled sooner or later.  I asked them too to help me release the chill of loneliness reverberating through my cavernous inner reaches.  Then I asked them to help me feel God’s potent, nourishing, All Pervading Love.

God bless their non-physical hearts, they hooked a sistah UP!

Then after breakfast, I had the inclination to walk to Whole Foods and get Mykael some coconut milk so that it would be here for him when he arose.  (He seemed really bummed not to have any.  It would have been easy for me to take the path of criticism and think to myself, “Well if you really wanted it, you should have paid attention to the fact that you ran out and got yourself some more before now.”)  I used to do go out of my way for him all the time, with enthusiasm and passion.  But then I got sick of it.  Somehow caring for him turned from liberated, joyful choice to begrudging, self-imposed obligation.

Oh, I’m too tired to write.  But I just want you to know that I decided to stand in the space of my offering to him being an offering to myself.  Whole and free and purified by Love.  I let his happiness and fulfillment be my happiness and fulfillment.  I set about my task joyfully.  And because I set out in that spirit, naturally, I begot exponentially more joy and abundance.  This simple act of service was my life raft this morning.  And the day just kept climbing up Heaven’s lofty ladder.  I bled heavily.  I moved slow.  I didn’t get much done.  But I was happy.  And for that I give copious thanks!!!

Amen.

The Difference Between Me and Peter Pan

Believe it or not I’ve been compared to Peter Pan every once in a silver-pink moon.  I can see it.  I mean I probably won’t be growing up any time soon.  And maybe Kauai is just a code name for “Never Never Land”… I mean come ON, they’re both magical islands.  Think of Puff the Magic Dragon, for God’s revelatory sake… Would it surprise you if Puff and Peter were really two peas in a pod?  Heck throw Michael Jackson into that sweet, crunchy husk… I mean Neverland Ranch, Never Never Land… Same difference, right?

But I digress.  The main difference between me and Mister Pan is that he was able to ditch his shadow for a while… while this one Miss Grace LMNOP on the other hand… HER shadow is definitely stuck fast to the souls of her feet and it ain’t goin’ nowhere.  I just don’t want to pull the chinchilla fur over your gullible little googly eyes.  Leave that to the politicians and the media.  Nope, here in Athena Grace Land, we are way more interested in the full, glorious and oft unflattering truth of what it is to be an unwieldy, all too human manifestation of All Pervading Best Thing You’ve EVER Tasted.

Like I said yesterday, I can talk a great game about living for Love and all that other fluffy angel-down (down as in soft feathers, just to clarify) gospel.  And lately the glistening wisdom has been pouring out of me as if from a gaping open wound slashed in Grace’s very flesh… But… then come those moments when I meet myself in mirrors that glare back at me with utterly demonic faces.  There is no better mirror than a stubborn Taurus boyfriend to keep me humble and remember that I still have much cleaning up to do in this cracked temple I call Home.

Yesterday Mykael was going to pick me up from the farmer’s market and take me with him to our friends’ house where he was helping make a mosaic.  Our agreed upon pick up time was fast approaching when suddenly I was commissioned for two more poems.  And neither customer was an expendable plastic imitation.  Both men were so sincere and vulnerable and obviously sent by Lady Almighty.

My first customer, Darrell was grappling with an issue at work he said.  He was hesitant to share it because he said it was “yucky”.  I told him that the whole POINT of poetry was an alchemical transformation that spins invaluable esoteric gold and diamonds out of generic brand yuckiness.  He seemed to taste the tart, mouthwatering glints of light spritzed by this stance, so he proceeded to share with me his conundrum.  He said that he had applied for a promotion at work and was more than qualified, as had a few others… but in the end, the results had been politically rigged in favor of someone less qualified and this was NOT okay with him.  Like our timeless hero Arjuna, in the Hindu Epic Tale of the Bhagavad Gita, his dharma had called him to battle for what he knew in his heart to be right.  He refused to let this unjust practice continue in his workplace.  He was up against the part of himself that just wants to be liked.  But inside, he knew it was time to take a stand for something greater~ Integrity.  Self Respect.  Raise your hand if you’ve ever faced that conundrum.  Takes guts to remain steadfast to Truth and integrity over social standing and bleary eyed, white sheep acceptance.  Guts. (That word still gets me every time!)

I thought I could whiz through his poem like any respectable daughter sprung from the very head of the King of the Gods, Zeus… but alas, the space time continuum begged to differ.

I read him his poem and could feel him slurping it right up with his hungry, genuine heart.  Oh shit, I was already late.  Mykael was waiting in the parking lot.  I asked this next man if I could mail him his poem since I had to dash.  He confessed he was without a mailing address, as he was in major upheaval and traveling like a free-wheeling prophet as of late.  So I called Mykael and asked for ten more minutes.  He sounded upset but he said yes.  I asked if he was sure, because he was free to say yes or no… and he replied that at this point it didn’t matter.  COOL!  So I got to typing.  And still no lightening miracles.  God was a slow partner in the benign crime of poetry.  But it was a whistling beauty in the end, if I do say so my LMNOP-ish self!

When I got to the car, I realized I was forty minutes late and Mykael was a subterranean inferno.  The moment I stepped into the car, I knew I was engulfed in epic flames of danger.  Naturally, the first thing I did was apologize, but it seemed hollow next to the mountain of negative charge bleeding from ever pore in Mykael’s very being.  I sat in the passenger seat, silently feeling myself drown in feelings that would surely make a flower wilt on the spot.  I immediately started coaching myself on how to navigate this moment gracefully.  But I was all flounder at this point.  Before long, he started in… unloading his tangle of pain, his dam of suffering.  Of course this put me on the defense… but I knew defending would not solve anything.  I wished I had NOT made the choice to accompany him.  I fantasized about getting out of the car, right in traffic and taking refuge to nurse my suddenly gaping wounds.  But my inner coach told me that this was a potent moment to practice what I’d been preaching.  Can I stay in Love NOW???  Can I truly rest into the belief that there ARE no accidents and this too was a perfect moment gifted to me by Her Royal Auspiciousness?  I knew it was true.  I knew that this moment was a gift and a challenge and an opportunity to keep my heart open.

Why then did I start screaming at Mykael?  Because he had been pouring his wrath on me thick for quite a while and then he invited me to speak and I began to tell him that the two poems I wrote were crucial and divinely ordained and he cut me off because he had no room to entertain this airy fairy new age bull-loney at this point.  But I wanted to have a voice.  He had had his.  And frankly I couldn’t take anymore of his muted rage.  SO I SCREAMED… I can’t remember what.  But as I was breathing all of my own delinquent fire, I realized, oh shit, this IS not how I meant to play out this scene.  I think I just lost the Heart Olympics.  In fact, I must have been straight up disqualified.  Oh Crumbs, as they say in my country.

I brought myself back in record time though… And it wasn’t too long before I was cool enough to confess to Mykael that I would have felt the same, had I been in his rock star moccasins.  But by this time, my heart was saturated with sorrow.  We both just sucked up into our respective selves and were mostly quiet.  Little by little, the energy dissipated until all was well in Always Always Land.  (Divine counterpart to Never Never)

But imagine how bloody pleased I was to receive Darrell’s blindingly blessed comment upon waking this morning.  This is what it said:

“I wanted to find you *today*, Athena, and thank you.

Thank you for taking the time to hear my “yucky” thoughts and transform them into poetry/prayer. I loved watching the courage with which you approached our conversation…and the blank page.

I loved that you read your creation to me so that it was more than art. It was a personal gift, and that is how I received it. You could not have known how much your words encompassed truth that never left my lips.

A week ago, I asked myself to write down the most minute form of my own quest that I could express. It was simply: “to be free”. How enchanted I was when you ended your poem–my poem–with the words:

“…and be free
Amen.”

If I wasn’t so big and tough (in front of my son at least), I might have choked up a little. Thank you for inspiring me, Athena.

As my son and I left, he said to me: “She might be one of those people…that come when you need them and you never see them again. Sometimes God sends them like that…”

He never talks that way…and he couldn’t have known I was thinking the same thing. Even if he’s right, there will always be a connection of gratitude, so we can never truly be strangers again.”

Amazing, right?  Amazinger than Grace.  Amazinger than a DMT trip.  Amazinger than all the atoms in my body dancing so harmoniously that it is causing me to bleed this load of thoughtful, heart-stained words.

Thank you, GOD!!!  Amen.

The Perplexing Mess of Relationship

Well, it’s official… Athena Grace LMNOP does not know how to win at the sordid game we call Relationship.  Which is ironic, because I remember like a year and a half ago when my eyes were still all clouded with operatic stardust, telling a man behind me in line at Trader Joes that I was really good at Relationship.  I might have even told him I had a gift at it.  Ha!  That’s embarrassing to admit!  That was back in the days when my Love was still running on the fossil fuel combination of lust and moon honey.  That was back in the day when I my well of devotion-stained patience seemed to slice right through the core of the earth, stretching not just to China, but beyond our very own Milky Way.

I used to feel like such a spiritual, enlightened bad-ass during those mile long fights with Mykael where I would just keep switching from reserve tank to reserve tank to reserve tank, draining each of them without a fret or a care.  And now?  And now… I am the camel with the perpetually broken back.  I am the bomb with the fuse almost as big as a microscopic splinter.

Remember back in the day when this blog practically revolved around all my churnings in relationship with Mykael?  And then suddenly, apocalyptically, his presence here on the page mostly blinked out like a dinosaur.  (I just had a really long pause while my mind’s eye tried to conceive of the image of a dinosaur “blinking out”.  I wondered, “Is that a good metaphor?”  I heard myself say, “It doesn’t really make sense”… to which I replied, “yeah, but I like it…”  I love being my own boss here on the page.  Whatever I say goes.  It’s a pretty sweet deal.  Anyway, I imagined it would be a drooling tyrannosaurus rex  that blinked out… one that was charging toward me, poised to DEVOUR… and then *BLINK*…*poof*… suddenly he is gone without a trace, only some rainbow colored neon psychedelic smoke remains.  And it smells like rotten eggs, like when you light those little colored smoke bombs on Fourth of July.)

Why the sudden out-blinking of my gratuitous mention of Mykael?  Well… because so many of my thoughts and feelings have been delicately fetal, not wholly formed and potentially damaging.  Not to mention so mercurial.  I have not been ready to commit to any of my view points for more than a day at a time at best.  And given that, I have realized that it’s not even a healthy subject matter for me to focus on in the privacy of my own mind.  I have been cultivating the self discipline to focus on myself and my path.  I have been spending much time in quietude as well as investing myself in other relationships.  (He too has been focused on matters of deeper purpose.)  It feels like a slow, gentle pulling apart.  But it’s really confusing in some moments.

Confusing because he has been so beautifully virtuous and generous toward me.  He has been giving me so much space to free fall through all the myriad of emotional spaces I have been breathing my way through… with such a sincere spacious generosity and unconditional love.  My greatest fear has been that because I am not committed to a future with him he would take his well worn, conditional love and lock it away behind the door to his own, private bedroom.  I should be afraid of that.  I have done it many times over the course of our relationship… always secretly hoping that HE would be the one to muster the courage to choose generosity and come back to hardened, sour me.  And mostly he has come to me… He has taught me a lot about being generous.  Staying.  About loving.

But I guess not enough, because I still don’t know that I want to stay and love.  That is what is so damn confusing.  I love him.  I LOVE HIM.  And… our relationship feels like perpetual hard work and fights and disappointments… and I think I might be crazy to keep choosing that.  But then I think I might be crazy to let it go… because are these lessons that I’m gonna have to face somewhere along the line, no matter what???  I don’t know.  Probably.  But there is some value in being alone for a while too… it’s been seven years since I was alone.  I did not even consider myself a woman back when I was twenty three.  (I started to feel like a woman at 27.  And since then, I feel more and more like a woman as the chorus of clocks tick me riper and closer to death.)

So you see… I’m in a tangle.  It’s confusing.  I’d rather think about other things, like cream colored ponies and schnitzel with noodles and… what it means to really feel intimate with God.  What it is to really give my life over in service of Love.  What it is to really surrender to the truth of ultimate aloneness… and the ironic connection to all life implicitly nestled at the core of that.  These inquiries are a far better investment of my energy and time and mind these days.  But then… Mykael is in the bedroom next door and our lives are braided together in so many ways and every once in a while, that causes some friction or an accidental milk spill.

Like yesterday.

I was wanting more from him than usual.  I guess I was just sick of aloneness and wanting to sooth myself with the salve of being loved and loving.  But mostly stepping into a space of intimacy with him just felt like trying to drive a wrecked train.  Unless we just held each other.  Anything else proved disastrous.  Which naturally amped up my perplexity to the next level.  I feel him so deeply.  Resting in his arms feels like a deep, ancient home.  Everything in me ignites and flows and comes alive like vibrant starlight.  It feels so right and natural.  Until we try to talk… and then it’s all sparks and flames and flying grit.  Shrug.

Finally, after quite a few stabs at moving closer, we just had to do our own things again.  He carved (like always) and I went for an evening hike in the immaculate earthy cathedral otherwise known as Redwood Park.  I remembered the wisdom of Little Grandmother, advising us humans to get our energy from NATURE, rather than other people… and even though I left the house sobbing, soon enough I was full on sweet scents of dirt and pine and cooling air.  I emptied myself out with every fresh footstep.  I released myself to the silence of the forest.  And then, near the end of the hike, All Pervading Grace offered me the sweetest gift!  I came to the top of a hill… my eyes snuck left to the plunging valley which gave way to a copious helping of open sky… and was smacked oh so softly by vibrant pink, lavender and blue lullabies, wafting soft to meet my weary eyes.  And a near full moon passively dripping with breathing gold.  This tidy little pearl, glowing.  Purring and glowing with unconditional smirking revelation.  Below the sky, was a montage of variously colored and textured distant mountains, laced with rivery ribbons of soft fog.  Lucid.  Dreamy.  Medicine.  I breathed it.  And breathed it some more.  I let it flood all the secret crevices and empty spaces and hungry places inside me.

I am doing my best.  I really am.  I sorta wish my best was better… or less messy and confusing… but… as my dad would say, “It is what it is.”

Amen.

Previous Older Entries Next Newer Entries