yes: i do live a sensual life.
the taste of wine on my tongue...the scent of jasmine flowers on my skin. i adore the sunlight on my shoulders and the heat of fire on the back of my neck, warming my hair. the wind combing through my hair on a cool day sends me shivering...as does the plunge into an icy pool when the air is hot and dry.
i drink my tea hot; i lick the melting honey of off the spoon before it all dissolves into the amber liquid. i suck on a piece of dark chocolate and the sweetness turns earthy on my tongue. i spread cool clay onto my cheeks and wait for it to warm. kiss my mouth and you will taste the sweetest fruit you have ever tasted.
fingertips on the soft skin of my inner arm--or inner thigh, if you should be so lucky--sends me into another time and space, where nothing you could say could matter--not really. the sound of a candle wick catching fire is a symphony. did you know that cinnamon sparkles like stars as it touches the blue flames of the range top?
i adore this body and the gifts i receive every time i step into a hot bath perfumed with bergamot and lavender. if you have ever smelled fresh basil in the garden, crushed between your thumb and forefinger, you know what makes me sigh with delight. my roses are divine, and they ask nothing from me in return.
soothe me with warm breath on the skin of my throat while violin music echoes sadly from far away. or dip me in the salty sea and then roll me in the sugar-white sands of some lonely beach on a weekday. if you want to know me, watch my eyes when the cello hits that certain note--you will see stone turn to dust.
i am a simple creature, and yet the complexity of that which i can sense is without bounds. wrap me in feathers...fold me up in the richness of song...steal me away to watch the sandstone hills turn pink in the transformation of the day into twilight: and i will be both your slave and your goddess at once.
11.28.2009
11.26.2009
Nice to have found you again
tonight i walked and listened to the owls calling to each other in the dark. i knew they were nestled in the trees, some distance over my head, though the only trace of them was the deep timbre of "who! who!"
owls show themselves to me only in very special times. the last time i was really close to one, i was feeling a little desperate and lost, wandering one night--a full moon--in the hills behind North Winds Ranch. i guess tonight i feel lost again. i am stronger, maybe, emotionally now than i was then...but i am still longing for something not quite in my reach...
everything spiritual i read tells me to accept what is, and i will be free...free from this desire, this craving, this longing that eats me up on nights when the rest of the house is quiet and i am no longer simply reacting to daily life. be grateful for what i have--which i am, don't get me wrong--and i won't feel tormented. but there is a pull, a push, a fluttering of a memory...except that it exists in the future: it has not yet come into being. i do not know what it is, but i will when it happens...i hope.
the stars and the moon--half-crescent and waxing--and the deep indigo skies and the towering mass of the long-dead volcano above the townhome transported me, momentarily, to another time, a space where i might have been more wary of mountain lions pouncing onto my back. ancient, forgotten, alive only in short bursts, like the trail of a meteor across the sky.
i get that a lot. with places, with images, with people. a friend i recently met said to me, "it's nice to have found you again," and i believed it, with the whole of my heart, to be true. i looked into his eyes and i saw something that resonated with me. not attraction-that came later, with getting to know him. affinity? recognition?
i have been reading in the cards that help is on the way. i've gotten this far in recovery with and without other entities--hospitals, doctors, therapists, drugs, process groups--relying mostly on that tiny scrap of fire inside me that insists on survival. when i had the help, i didn't want it...now that i am hungry for it, it is limited. but that is how it goes, i suppose. the moment i knew--with my heart, not my intellect--that i wouldn't be able to go through recovery alone was when i experienced the jump from half-hearted effort to full-blown war on the demons that nearly killed me. and, ironically, the moment i knew i would have to decide to fight on my own behalf.
i started out with a fierce stubbornness--a tiger, indeed. if life was suffering, then i was going to inflict it upon myself with the wrath of a starving she-cat, claws out. as i danced in Death's arms, i began to ponder needing people, needing nourishment--what would that mean? how would it feel to address my needs--not to satisfy them, but simply to admit that i had them: that i was like any other human? as i slowly began to experiment with recognizing them, i grew ballsy and began to ask for things--and to give them to myself. this is where i stand currently.
i am at the painful stage of having endured the lessons of humility and vulnerability. i have faced my very worst fears, crumbling inside under the weight of my terror, but pushing on--pushing on. now, i realize, new fears materialize as soon as the old ones are vanquished. delightful. the never-ending story...though if this is true, it also works for joy: as in, the more joy i feel, the greater my capacity for finding joy where i once found sorrow.
i am weary. i need so much. i want so much, though i am still trying to figure out what that is. i am afraid that if i am left to dream, my dreams will grow and stretch to disproportionate heights. not only do my dreams grow large, they grow deep, they grow soft and refined, like fine silk--watery and light and strong and rich. like my paintings, they are made up of every color in the spectrum...every texture one could imagine, every shape, every pattern ever conceived by nature. they are intricate, they are bursting with vitality, with music, with movement. what will nourish dreams so large? i think most people are afraid of deep dreams...it is easier to discourage them, discount them, for fear of risking materialization.
i want. i need. but i also give. whoever will be enough to meet me, to look at me and KNOW me?
i don't know.
owls show themselves to me only in very special times. the last time i was really close to one, i was feeling a little desperate and lost, wandering one night--a full moon--in the hills behind North Winds Ranch. i guess tonight i feel lost again. i am stronger, maybe, emotionally now than i was then...but i am still longing for something not quite in my reach...
everything spiritual i read tells me to accept what is, and i will be free...free from this desire, this craving, this longing that eats me up on nights when the rest of the house is quiet and i am no longer simply reacting to daily life. be grateful for what i have--which i am, don't get me wrong--and i won't feel tormented. but there is a pull, a push, a fluttering of a memory...except that it exists in the future: it has not yet come into being. i do not know what it is, but i will when it happens...i hope.
the stars and the moon--half-crescent and waxing--and the deep indigo skies and the towering mass of the long-dead volcano above the townhome transported me, momentarily, to another time, a space where i might have been more wary of mountain lions pouncing onto my back. ancient, forgotten, alive only in short bursts, like the trail of a meteor across the sky.
i get that a lot. with places, with images, with people. a friend i recently met said to me, "it's nice to have found you again," and i believed it, with the whole of my heart, to be true. i looked into his eyes and i saw something that resonated with me. not attraction-that came later, with getting to know him. affinity? recognition?
i have been reading in the cards that help is on the way. i've gotten this far in recovery with and without other entities--hospitals, doctors, therapists, drugs, process groups--relying mostly on that tiny scrap of fire inside me that insists on survival. when i had the help, i didn't want it...now that i am hungry for it, it is limited. but that is how it goes, i suppose. the moment i knew--with my heart, not my intellect--that i wouldn't be able to go through recovery alone was when i experienced the jump from half-hearted effort to full-blown war on the demons that nearly killed me. and, ironically, the moment i knew i would have to decide to fight on my own behalf.
i started out with a fierce stubbornness--a tiger, indeed. if life was suffering, then i was going to inflict it upon myself with the wrath of a starving she-cat, claws out. as i danced in Death's arms, i began to ponder needing people, needing nourishment--what would that mean? how would it feel to address my needs--not to satisfy them, but simply to admit that i had them: that i was like any other human? as i slowly began to experiment with recognizing them, i grew ballsy and began to ask for things--and to give them to myself. this is where i stand currently.
i am at the painful stage of having endured the lessons of humility and vulnerability. i have faced my very worst fears, crumbling inside under the weight of my terror, but pushing on--pushing on. now, i realize, new fears materialize as soon as the old ones are vanquished. delightful. the never-ending story...though if this is true, it also works for joy: as in, the more joy i feel, the greater my capacity for finding joy where i once found sorrow.
i am weary. i need so much. i want so much, though i am still trying to figure out what that is. i am afraid that if i am left to dream, my dreams will grow and stretch to disproportionate heights. not only do my dreams grow large, they grow deep, they grow soft and refined, like fine silk--watery and light and strong and rich. like my paintings, they are made up of every color in the spectrum...every texture one could imagine, every shape, every pattern ever conceived by nature. they are intricate, they are bursting with vitality, with music, with movement. what will nourish dreams so large? i think most people are afraid of deep dreams...it is easier to discourage them, discount them, for fear of risking materialization.
i want. i need. but i also give. whoever will be enough to meet me, to look at me and KNOW me?
i don't know.
11.24.2009
thank you
i am thankful for so many things.
i am thankful for the experiences i've had, and the ones that have yet to be. i have a supportive family that loves me the best way that it can. i have fantastic friends. i live in luxurious surroundings: hot running water, a tub i can stretch out in, a queen-sized, comfy bed, my own spacious room, my own little art studio workspace, a toilet.
i have enough to eat, clean water to drink. i have plenty of clothes (probably TOO many!) to keep me warm and to use as a form of self-expression. i have access to health care, medicine, birth control. i see a therapist who genuinely cares about my recovery, and who charges a reasonable rate.
i am thankful for crescent moons and for the sound of crickets during twilight. i am thankful for the taste of tea and honey. i am thankful for being able to feel a lover's touch on my skin, the soft fur of a cat against my cheek. i am thankful for picking fresh herbs to put in my soup, for magenta roses that bloom in the sun. i am thankful for the vast ocean and the patient trees that give me shade and play music in the wind.
i am grateful for my yoga practice, which helps me endure the suffering of human life. i am grateful for smiling and laughter, for tears and sleep. i am grateful for my dreams, which i can always remember bits and pieces of, and for my gifts and talents. i am grateful for free time and leisure, for hard work and studying. i am thankful for the choice to be single, married, divorced, dating. i am thankful to be able to look people in the eyes and say, "I like who I am...at least most of the time. And I'm learning to love myself all of the time."
i am thankful for my arms and legs, for my strength and grace. i am thankful for my wisdom and for my sadness, for my passion and bliss. i am thankful for my voice, for being able to use it to speak my Truth. i am thankful for my right to vote, to be free and to pursue my version of Happiness--whatever that might be.
i am thankful for books and movies and for this illusion we call reality. i am thankful for Art and Beauty and for the shadowy parts of myself that i am learning not to fear. i am thankful that my heart, while it may break over and over again, has not yet turned stony or bitter. i am thankful for being female, for having the gift of giving birth to new life. i am thankful for my sensuality, my sexuality, my desires and my discipline. i am thankful for my Spirit and the gentleness of my soul.
though i may bargain, plead and sob...though i may fight and blame and self-destruct...though i may ignore, manipulate and covet...there is nothing i cherish more than the life that i have been given. i am doing all i can with what i have to become the greatest human being i can become...i am not perfect, and i am thankful to make mistakes and learn.
thank you, thank you, thank you.
thank you! thank you! thank you!
a thousand times: thank you for this life!
hari OM.
i am thankful for the experiences i've had, and the ones that have yet to be. i have a supportive family that loves me the best way that it can. i have fantastic friends. i live in luxurious surroundings: hot running water, a tub i can stretch out in, a queen-sized, comfy bed, my own spacious room, my own little art studio workspace, a toilet.
i have enough to eat, clean water to drink. i have plenty of clothes (probably TOO many!) to keep me warm and to use as a form of self-expression. i have access to health care, medicine, birth control. i see a therapist who genuinely cares about my recovery, and who charges a reasonable rate.
i am thankful for crescent moons and for the sound of crickets during twilight. i am thankful for the taste of tea and honey. i am thankful for being able to feel a lover's touch on my skin, the soft fur of a cat against my cheek. i am thankful for picking fresh herbs to put in my soup, for magenta roses that bloom in the sun. i am thankful for the vast ocean and the patient trees that give me shade and play music in the wind.
i am grateful for my yoga practice, which helps me endure the suffering of human life. i am grateful for smiling and laughter, for tears and sleep. i am grateful for my dreams, which i can always remember bits and pieces of, and for my gifts and talents. i am grateful for free time and leisure, for hard work and studying. i am thankful for the choice to be single, married, divorced, dating. i am thankful to be able to look people in the eyes and say, "I like who I am...at least most of the time. And I'm learning to love myself all of the time."
i am thankful for my arms and legs, for my strength and grace. i am thankful for my wisdom and for my sadness, for my passion and bliss. i am thankful for my voice, for being able to use it to speak my Truth. i am thankful for my right to vote, to be free and to pursue my version of Happiness--whatever that might be.
i am thankful for books and movies and for this illusion we call reality. i am thankful for Art and Beauty and for the shadowy parts of myself that i am learning not to fear. i am thankful that my heart, while it may break over and over again, has not yet turned stony or bitter. i am thankful for being female, for having the gift of giving birth to new life. i am thankful for my sensuality, my sexuality, my desires and my discipline. i am thankful for my Spirit and the gentleness of my soul.
though i may bargain, plead and sob...though i may fight and blame and self-destruct...though i may ignore, manipulate and covet...there is nothing i cherish more than the life that i have been given. i am doing all i can with what i have to become the greatest human being i can become...i am not perfect, and i am thankful to make mistakes and learn.
thank you, thank you, thank you.
thank you! thank you! thank you!
a thousand times: thank you for this life!
hari OM.
11.23.2009
karma wheel
once again, numbing out looks good.
a relapse--just one binge/purge, a binge the next day. i hated it, every minute of it. it doesn't soothe me anymore, but cigarettes and alcohol weren't cutting it...nor yoga, nor meditation. in times of high stress, it might be like this for awhile.
i open up to people. too quickly? maybe.
i have a thin skin, transparent like an onion.
i wear my heart on my sleeve. you want a piece? take a bite. you can either swallow it and let it nourish you, or you can spit it out on the floor...either way, it's available to you.
i'm not an artist because i choose to be...i'm an artist because i can't do anything else. i can only handle life in symbols--color and shapes--or i will go mad. maybe i already am.
i MUST have been for thinking dating someone with severe bipolar disorder was a good idea. lesson learned: pay attention to red flags.
life is suffering. i forget that pain is proof of life. it hurts to remember.
but the karma wheel spins, and now i am on the rising side of the spokes.
a relapse--just one binge/purge, a binge the next day. i hated it, every minute of it. it doesn't soothe me anymore, but cigarettes and alcohol weren't cutting it...nor yoga, nor meditation. in times of high stress, it might be like this for awhile.
i open up to people. too quickly? maybe.
i have a thin skin, transparent like an onion.
i wear my heart on my sleeve. you want a piece? take a bite. you can either swallow it and let it nourish you, or you can spit it out on the floor...either way, it's available to you.
i'm not an artist because i choose to be...i'm an artist because i can't do anything else. i can only handle life in symbols--color and shapes--or i will go mad. maybe i already am.
i MUST have been for thinking dating someone with severe bipolar disorder was a good idea. lesson learned: pay attention to red flags.
life is suffering. i forget that pain is proof of life. it hurts to remember.
but the karma wheel spins, and now i am on the rising side of the spokes.
11.21.2009
the castle, the lotus-flower shrine and Spirit
i often feel alone. not necessarily lonely, but i don't have many peers my age...they're either younger or older. i suppose i am emotionally/psychologically closer to 24 years old, though my soul feels ancient. i relate to everyone, regardless of age, sex, ethnicity, socioeconomic status and mental health, but i have a difficult time trusting people enough to really open up.
actually--flip that. i tend to put all of my trust in people very quickly. but my trust in others is fragile, and it doesn't take much to betray it. when i DO feel my trust is betrayed, i retract back into my shell, turtle-like, and i begin to nurse my wounds.
my mother told me just today that i am too nice. my parents have also said i was too sensitive. apparently, i need to be less nice and more coarse and obtuse to fit into society. i find these statements fascinating.
i don't know if i'll ever feel like i really "fit in" here, in this world. if i was a wolf, i'd be a loner in the pack. on the outside, it looks all groovy and normal, the way i can make small talk and be responsible. i suppose everyone has similar feelings and thoughts at one time or another...that's the ego talking, the part of us that tries to make it seem like we are special, unique, individualistic. true: every person has a gift, a talent, specific strengths. but on another, fundamental level, we all crave and need love and nurturance.
this isn't news: people have been saying this for centuries--even longer. read the Upanishads. but sometimes i forget, and it's more comfortable to try and separate myself from people so that my ego can say, "See? i told you you were odd. I told you you'll never feel like you're part of your species."
so, for now, i will just have to reread those passages that tell me i am part of something great and wonderful. regardless of my disorders, my issues, my strengths and talents, i am worth no less-and no more--than any other sentient being.
"OM. In the centre of the castle of Brahman, our own body, there is a small shrine in the form of a lotus-flower, and within can be found a small space. We should find who dwells there, and we should want to know him[/her].....And if anyone asks, 'Who is he[/she] who dwells in a small shrine in the shape of a lotus-flower in the centre of the castle of Brahman? Whom should we want to find and to know?' we can answer: 'The little space within the heart is as great as this vast universe. The heavens and the earth are there, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars; fire and lightning and winds are there; and all that now is and all that is not: for the whole universe is in Him[/Her] and He[/She] dwells within our heart.'"
from the Chandrogya Upanishad
i forgive everyone and ask to be forgiven. i treat everyone gently--especially myself.
om shanti.
actually--flip that. i tend to put all of my trust in people very quickly. but my trust in others is fragile, and it doesn't take much to betray it. when i DO feel my trust is betrayed, i retract back into my shell, turtle-like, and i begin to nurse my wounds.
my mother told me just today that i am too nice. my parents have also said i was too sensitive. apparently, i need to be less nice and more coarse and obtuse to fit into society. i find these statements fascinating.
i don't know if i'll ever feel like i really "fit in" here, in this world. if i was a wolf, i'd be a loner in the pack. on the outside, it looks all groovy and normal, the way i can make small talk and be responsible. i suppose everyone has similar feelings and thoughts at one time or another...that's the ego talking, the part of us that tries to make it seem like we are special, unique, individualistic. true: every person has a gift, a talent, specific strengths. but on another, fundamental level, we all crave and need love and nurturance.
this isn't news: people have been saying this for centuries--even longer. read the Upanishads. but sometimes i forget, and it's more comfortable to try and separate myself from people so that my ego can say, "See? i told you you were odd. I told you you'll never feel like you're part of your species."
so, for now, i will just have to reread those passages that tell me i am part of something great and wonderful. regardless of my disorders, my issues, my strengths and talents, i am worth no less-and no more--than any other sentient being.
"OM. In the centre of the castle of Brahman, our own body, there is a small shrine in the form of a lotus-flower, and within can be found a small space. We should find who dwells there, and we should want to know him[/her].....And if anyone asks, 'Who is he[/she] who dwells in a small shrine in the shape of a lotus-flower in the centre of the castle of Brahman? Whom should we want to find and to know?' we can answer: 'The little space within the heart is as great as this vast universe. The heavens and the earth are there, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars; fire and lightning and winds are there; and all that now is and all that is not: for the whole universe is in Him[/Her] and He[/She] dwells within our heart.'"
from the Chandrogya Upanishad
i forgive everyone and ask to be forgiven. i treat everyone gently--especially myself.
om shanti.
11.19.2009
sing chant pray
i am stuck with this painting. painter's block?
i need canvases--bigger ones...
i've boxed myself into this small space on the image, the place where i am to render the throat chakra, Vishuddha. coincidence? Vishuddha governs vibration--sound. it influences communication. it names the visions that are brought down to it from the third eye, Ajna, in the process of Manifestation. i don't know how to express what it is i envision. there is gorgeous turquoise hue, but no form, no shape.
during a stressful time last year, i developed eczema on the skin of my throat. i could not give voice to my thoughts. there were ideas i was intuiting, but i was having great difficulty voicing them. i was unsatisfied, i was stretched beyond the limitations of my energy.
these days, i feel like my voice is much stronger. i sing more, even up on stage, and i am always amazed at the crowd that gathers to listen and watch, the applause that ensues afterwards. i think my secret dream is to become a singer, to drop everything and start writing songs, join a band--or maybe just drift from open mic night to open mic night as a solo show. i love to sing. i want to develop my tool so that i can sing the notes that my soul wants to express.
i believe yoga practice--pranayama, specifically--has improved my singing and speaking skills. breath practice and asana has strengthened my lungs, loosened the intercostals and the scalenes which had become so weak and tight from enduring severe asthma as a child. now i can swim laps forever, control my diaphragm and use my breath to bring me into deep relaxation and sleep. my favorite part of my practice is to chant OM SHANTI before and after asana--i feel like i am connected to divinity.
i use my voice, my words. i write, i talk. i say things people don't often like to hear. i speak up and i speak my mind. when i am emotionally charged, there is still a lag-time between the moment i have a thought and my ability to vocalize it. but i am no longer afraid to have a voice.
anorexia was once my voice. i spoke with my emaciated body. i still speak with my body today, and it's not just body language. i am a terrible liar, often because my body cannot lie--it is adept at communication since it has had to compensate for my voice for most of my life.
maybe after a night of singing at the karaoke bar, i'll be able to make the next move on my painting. for now, i'll dive into deep blues...
i need canvases--bigger ones...
i've boxed myself into this small space on the image, the place where i am to render the throat chakra, Vishuddha. coincidence? Vishuddha governs vibration--sound. it influences communication. it names the visions that are brought down to it from the third eye, Ajna, in the process of Manifestation. i don't know how to express what it is i envision. there is gorgeous turquoise hue, but no form, no shape.
during a stressful time last year, i developed eczema on the skin of my throat. i could not give voice to my thoughts. there were ideas i was intuiting, but i was having great difficulty voicing them. i was unsatisfied, i was stretched beyond the limitations of my energy.
these days, i feel like my voice is much stronger. i sing more, even up on stage, and i am always amazed at the crowd that gathers to listen and watch, the applause that ensues afterwards. i think my secret dream is to become a singer, to drop everything and start writing songs, join a band--or maybe just drift from open mic night to open mic night as a solo show. i love to sing. i want to develop my tool so that i can sing the notes that my soul wants to express.
i believe yoga practice--pranayama, specifically--has improved my singing and speaking skills. breath practice and asana has strengthened my lungs, loosened the intercostals and the scalenes which had become so weak and tight from enduring severe asthma as a child. now i can swim laps forever, control my diaphragm and use my breath to bring me into deep relaxation and sleep. my favorite part of my practice is to chant OM SHANTI before and after asana--i feel like i am connected to divinity.
i use my voice, my words. i write, i talk. i say things people don't often like to hear. i speak up and i speak my mind. when i am emotionally charged, there is still a lag-time between the moment i have a thought and my ability to vocalize it. but i am no longer afraid to have a voice.
anorexia was once my voice. i spoke with my emaciated body. i still speak with my body today, and it's not just body language. i am a terrible liar, often because my body cannot lie--it is adept at communication since it has had to compensate for my voice for most of my life.
maybe after a night of singing at the karaoke bar, i'll be able to make the next move on my painting. for now, i'll dive into deep blues...
11.18.2009
i guess it is goodbye, then
i feel bad for having to draw a boundary, a line in the sand, an awkwardly erected barrier--not a membrane--to protect myself. it has never been easy for me to act when i know someone's feelings are hurt. but mine hurt first.
i've already made reference in past posts to things that were said to me that made me wince, made me feel disrespected. this was not unwarranted--it has been building over the last month. i tried...i really tried to be patient, to be understanding, to be accepting. i am still all those things. but i cannot tolerate venomous speech, or the he said, she said changing to fit the needs of one party. and i cannot abide infidelity or disloyalty. i appreciate honesty. but i don't share well with others when it comes to intimacy. for me, sex and intimacy cannot be separated, just like the soul and the Divine cannot be separated.
i will miss many things about you. despite the pain i felt when you first told me someone else might be coming into the picture, i still respect your will to survive and to attempt, in your way, to work through your anger and hurt. i will miss your sense of humor, the brilliance of your mind, your spontaneity. even when you whispered, "Thanks for the fuck," in my ear after i spilled my guts to you about my experiences with date rape, i hold no bitterness. i only feel sorry that you seem to have so much difficulty in sustaining romantic relationships, that you fear vulnerability and the loss of control.
i know you are intelligent enough to figure out exactly what to say to me to make me want to come back for more. i suppose i was trying to convince myself that i wasn't seeing the blatant manipulation in our relationship. i knew from the very start, when you exploded with defensiveness at my first mention of the M-word. don't you know that people don't like to be mind-fucked?
you cannot manipulate true, unconditional love. that kind of love is constant and solid and true. i do not have romantic love for you anymore. that love died as i sobbed and sobbed 2 days ago, imagining you approaching me in a month, two months', 6 mponths' time with your new girlfriend in tow.
yes, i am still physically attracted to you. yes, i still love you as a human being who has died and been revived to fulfill a sacred contract in this lifetime. i love the child in you who was hurt and betrayed in some way, long ago. i wish we could have a friendship together, but i don't even think that's possible. you clearly feel i have jilted you, abandoned you, walked away, given up. you will believe what you believe.
one last time, i love you, too.
muah.
until we meet again, maybe in another life, when we are cats.
i've already made reference in past posts to things that were said to me that made me wince, made me feel disrespected. this was not unwarranted--it has been building over the last month. i tried...i really tried to be patient, to be understanding, to be accepting. i am still all those things. but i cannot tolerate venomous speech, or the he said, she said changing to fit the needs of one party. and i cannot abide infidelity or disloyalty. i appreciate honesty. but i don't share well with others when it comes to intimacy. for me, sex and intimacy cannot be separated, just like the soul and the Divine cannot be separated.
i will miss many things about you. despite the pain i felt when you first told me someone else might be coming into the picture, i still respect your will to survive and to attempt, in your way, to work through your anger and hurt. i will miss your sense of humor, the brilliance of your mind, your spontaneity. even when you whispered, "Thanks for the fuck," in my ear after i spilled my guts to you about my experiences with date rape, i hold no bitterness. i only feel sorry that you seem to have so much difficulty in sustaining romantic relationships, that you fear vulnerability and the loss of control.
i know you are intelligent enough to figure out exactly what to say to me to make me want to come back for more. i suppose i was trying to convince myself that i wasn't seeing the blatant manipulation in our relationship. i knew from the very start, when you exploded with defensiveness at my first mention of the M-word. don't you know that people don't like to be mind-fucked?
you cannot manipulate true, unconditional love. that kind of love is constant and solid and true. i do not have romantic love for you anymore. that love died as i sobbed and sobbed 2 days ago, imagining you approaching me in a month, two months', 6 mponths' time with your new girlfriend in tow.
yes, i am still physically attracted to you. yes, i still love you as a human being who has died and been revived to fulfill a sacred contract in this lifetime. i love the child in you who was hurt and betrayed in some way, long ago. i wish we could have a friendship together, but i don't even think that's possible. you clearly feel i have jilted you, abandoned you, walked away, given up. you will believe what you believe.
one last time, i love you, too.
muah.
until we meet again, maybe in another life, when we are cats.
is there nothing sacred anymore?
call me an idealist, a romantic...because i am. it's fine, guys, i've come to terms with it.
this is not to say that i do not understand reality. i may have led a relatively sheltered life, but i am not unaware...in fact, i am quite empathic; i pick up on a lot of things other people don't, and i feel things that others are feeling.
i've slept in my freezing cold car before, having no place else to go. i understand despair, hopelessness and humiliation. i've felt the pain of broken bones, sliced skin, sore feet, exhausted muscles. i've had to scrape for food, going to sleep hungry, waking up hungry. i've wandered--by myself--all over the state. i've been threatened with arrest for trespassing. i've experimented with all kinds of drugs. i've been inside three mental hospitals, lived in close quarters with people who have been forgotten by society, drugged into a stupor and quarantined to their rooms for days at a time. i've felt the malicious intent of men who perceive sex as a sport. i've listened as a 12-year-old described her disgust at the fat on her legs and declared she wanted to kill herself. i've died and woken up intubated: breathing with the help of a respirator. this might not mean much to someone who has experienced war, divorce, the death of a family member, or cancer, but for a person who is extrasensitive, these things carry a similar weight.
the messages that have caught my eye today have all been similar: we create our lives.
exhibit A: "people have forgotten that they are not here to be consumers; they are here to be creators, artists; they are here to deliver their gifts, talents and skills so that society evolves." (Rev. Michael Beckwith)
exhibit B: As we move through the world, we make a statement, whether we intend to or not. The way we speak to people, or touch them, shifts the energy more profoundly than almost anything else. The words we speak and the tone in which we say them are the music we
choose to play in the world that is our home. Some of us fill the space with passionate arias,
others with healing hymns. Again, one is not better than the other. We are all called to
contribute... Just as we consciously create an environment within our homes, we can consciously choose to decorate life itself with our particular energy. Ideally, in doing so, we express our deeper selves, so that the adornments we add to the world make it more meaningful, more beautiful, and as welcoming as a beloved home.
dailyOM, 11/17/09
and, lastly: "When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece." (John Ruskin)
so many people i meet are addicted to negativity. i grew up with it on a daily basis, right alongside my macaroni and cheese. maybe i'm overcompensating in my adult life by believing that there is hope and transformation in forgiveness. maybe i'm deluded that love heals all wounds. maybe i am wrong to think that there is someone out there who has been through a shitload and still refuses to become jaded and cynical. i don't know for sure, but i reflect on that which drives me and i know that these beliefs do.
i guess the issue that has really surfaced for me these days is: is there anyone who views sex as sacred anymore? does anyone view anything as sacred anymore? we are so disconnected from our bodies that we cannot perceive imbalance until it smacks us in the face, causes a trip to the E.R, or leaves us incapacitated for days at a time. we want more, we want better, we want sexier, and so we are not in the present. we live in the future and we live in the past and so we cannot fully experience the abundance we already have. we take out our anger and frustration with individuals from our past on subsequent partners. we become so focused on temporary pleasure that we forget it will not fill the larger emptiness we feel inside our very souls.
sex is not possession. don't make me insert Poltergeist references here. it's not something to be taken lightly. i'm not suggesting that sex is reserved for marriage, that we can't take pleasure in it, or that it is in any way shameful. but the way i've heard most people talk about it makes it sound like a video game...an escape. "Well, if she isn't going to play MarioKart with me, I'll have to go find someone else who will." Be inquiring. Be creative. Be attentive. Be respectful. Be loving--unconditionally.
we make things sacred with the use of intention. we are not separate from God...we are Divine. so why not make every event holy? if we feel we are missing sacredness, why don't we create it instead of waiting for it?
what would this look like? well, we can start by listening to our partners. asking them how they're feeling. respecting their right to have emotions. talking to them without anger or malice. being honest. being gentle. being kind. being selfless. being encouraging. setting boundaries. compromising.
what is a masterpiece? a work of art that causes our breath to catch in our throats, or brings tears to our eyes. it makes us feel connected to something greater than ourselves. what creates a masterpiece? time, care, effort, love, dedication, awareness. why shouldn't all of our relationships be masterpieces?
everyone has an inner child. we forget that every single person we meet just wants to be loved, cherished, accepted and nurtured. why do we forget this so easily?
okay, i'm just rambling at this point. i realize that some of the things i say might be hypocritical. they might not make sense, they might not be properly supported with examples. but the wheels in my head are turning, and i just can't believe that some people can have such a lack of awareness. there are so many mixed messages we send. no wonder i'm terrified of having children.
i guess i need to focus my own energy on creating the life i want...making it beautiful, sacred, divine, fun and genuine by being the same.
thanks for reading.
this is not to say that i do not understand reality. i may have led a relatively sheltered life, but i am not unaware...in fact, i am quite empathic; i pick up on a lot of things other people don't, and i feel things that others are feeling.
i've slept in my freezing cold car before, having no place else to go. i understand despair, hopelessness and humiliation. i've felt the pain of broken bones, sliced skin, sore feet, exhausted muscles. i've had to scrape for food, going to sleep hungry, waking up hungry. i've wandered--by myself--all over the state. i've been threatened with arrest for trespassing. i've experimented with all kinds of drugs. i've been inside three mental hospitals, lived in close quarters with people who have been forgotten by society, drugged into a stupor and quarantined to their rooms for days at a time. i've felt the malicious intent of men who perceive sex as a sport. i've listened as a 12-year-old described her disgust at the fat on her legs and declared she wanted to kill herself. i've died and woken up intubated: breathing with the help of a respirator. this might not mean much to someone who has experienced war, divorce, the death of a family member, or cancer, but for a person who is extrasensitive, these things carry a similar weight.
the messages that have caught my eye today have all been similar: we create our lives.
exhibit A: "people have forgotten that they are not here to be consumers; they are here to be creators, artists; they are here to deliver their gifts, talents and skills so that society evolves." (Rev. Michael Beckwith)
exhibit B: As we move through the world, we make a statement, whether we intend to or not. The way we speak to people, or touch them, shifts the energy more profoundly than almost anything else. The words we speak and the tone in which we say them are the music we
choose to play in the world that is our home. Some of us fill the space with passionate arias,
others with healing hymns. Again, one is not better than the other. We are all called to
contribute... Just as we consciously create an environment within our homes, we can consciously choose to decorate life itself with our particular energy. Ideally, in doing so, we express our deeper selves, so that the adornments we add to the world make it more meaningful, more beautiful, and as welcoming as a beloved home.
dailyOM, 11/17/09
and, lastly: "When love and skill work together, expect a masterpiece." (John Ruskin)
so many people i meet are addicted to negativity. i grew up with it on a daily basis, right alongside my macaroni and cheese. maybe i'm overcompensating in my adult life by believing that there is hope and transformation in forgiveness. maybe i'm deluded that love heals all wounds. maybe i am wrong to think that there is someone out there who has been through a shitload and still refuses to become jaded and cynical. i don't know for sure, but i reflect on that which drives me and i know that these beliefs do.
i guess the issue that has really surfaced for me these days is: is there anyone who views sex as sacred anymore? does anyone view anything as sacred anymore? we are so disconnected from our bodies that we cannot perceive imbalance until it smacks us in the face, causes a trip to the E.R, or leaves us incapacitated for days at a time. we want more, we want better, we want sexier, and so we are not in the present. we live in the future and we live in the past and so we cannot fully experience the abundance we already have. we take out our anger and frustration with individuals from our past on subsequent partners. we become so focused on temporary pleasure that we forget it will not fill the larger emptiness we feel inside our very souls.
sex is not possession. don't make me insert Poltergeist references here. it's not something to be taken lightly. i'm not suggesting that sex is reserved for marriage, that we can't take pleasure in it, or that it is in any way shameful. but the way i've heard most people talk about it makes it sound like a video game...an escape. "Well, if she isn't going to play MarioKart with me, I'll have to go find someone else who will." Be inquiring. Be creative. Be attentive. Be respectful. Be loving--unconditionally.
we make things sacred with the use of intention. we are not separate from God...we are Divine. so why not make every event holy? if we feel we are missing sacredness, why don't we create it instead of waiting for it?
what would this look like? well, we can start by listening to our partners. asking them how they're feeling. respecting their right to have emotions. talking to them without anger or malice. being honest. being gentle. being kind. being selfless. being encouraging. setting boundaries. compromising.
what is a masterpiece? a work of art that causes our breath to catch in our throats, or brings tears to our eyes. it makes us feel connected to something greater than ourselves. what creates a masterpiece? time, care, effort, love, dedication, awareness. why shouldn't all of our relationships be masterpieces?
everyone has an inner child. we forget that every single person we meet just wants to be loved, cherished, accepted and nurtured. why do we forget this so easily?
okay, i'm just rambling at this point. i realize that some of the things i say might be hypocritical. they might not make sense, they might not be properly supported with examples. but the wheels in my head are turning, and i just can't believe that some people can have such a lack of awareness. there are so many mixed messages we send. no wonder i'm terrified of having children.
i guess i need to focus my own energy on creating the life i want...making it beautiful, sacred, divine, fun and genuine by being the same.
thanks for reading.
11.15.2009
sexual politics
i left my baggage on the hilltop today.
in the crackling Santa Ana winds, i shouted, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" "I DID NOTHING WRONG!" and "I AM STRONG!"
i'm pretty sure i scared the shit out of the red-tails i saw on my trek up.
if THAT didn't do it, then my rock-throwing performance piece did. it feels SO GOOD to chuck rocks at the pavement. the resistance, the sound, the tiny flakes of stone spinning every direction. i even made the Stefi Graff (or was it Monica Seles?) grunt as i let loose.
ahh, sweet relief.
like the Tower card in my Tarot deck, i feel like i've been leveled. ground zero. everything i've ever believed, everything i've thought i've known has just been obliterated. in the best way possible.
i feel a renewed strength to carry on in my fight for my life, for well-being and for inner peace. i also feel a re-kindled desire to go out into the community and fight for women and girls who have experienced that which i have also experienced: rape, abuse, humiliation, eating disorders, substance abuse. i want to talk. i want to write. IT'S NOT OUR FAULT. so why do we still have to suffer? what's the problem here?
when a lover whispers in your ear, "Thanks for the fuck," that's a problem. when a guy hits his girlfriend during an argument, THAT is a problem. when a man looks at a woman wearing a flattering dress and high heels and says, "I like when you dress like a slut," THAT is a problem. when a manager corners his underage employee in a walk-in freezer at a juice bar and begins kissing her neck, THAT is a motherfucking problem. when a guy gets his girlfriend pregnant and then dumps her after the abortion, THAT is a problem. When a woman is raped as she leaves a bar, THAT is a problem.
why are things like these happening?
we need to figure this out.
all of the above incidents have happened either to me or to close friends of mine. my response to these atrocities: reclaim your power, girls. and i'm not just talking dress sexy, work your way to the top of the corrupt corporate ladder, and take shots with the big boys. screw the big boys. i am sick of being silent. i'm tired of this being okay. this is not the Victorian Era. this is 2009. time to evolve, people.
yoga classes, body appreciation workshops, anger management classes, art therapy: these all need to be free. they need to be available to ALL people, regardless of socioeconomic status. i'm not saying yoga is going to save the world, but it might. any philosophy that encourages the practice of non-violence (ahimsa) is worth a shot in my book. the problem is, the people who need it most don't see its benefits. it's a shame.
boycott fashion magazines; they're 80% ads, anyway...save your money.
refuse to see movies that are sexist, racist, unnecessarily violent.
talk with your sons, your daughters, your nieces, your nephews, and your cousins about sexuality. it's so harmful to assume that the schools will teach them everything they need to know, or that it's not important to share your own experiences with them. it is silence that is harmful.
thanks for letting me rant. i have been triggered. i'll cool down soon. but i think i've found a reason why i died and came back.
in the crackling Santa Ana winds, i shouted, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" "I DID NOTHING WRONG!" and "I AM STRONG!"
i'm pretty sure i scared the shit out of the red-tails i saw on my trek up.
if THAT didn't do it, then my rock-throwing performance piece did. it feels SO GOOD to chuck rocks at the pavement. the resistance, the sound, the tiny flakes of stone spinning every direction. i even made the Stefi Graff (or was it Monica Seles?) grunt as i let loose.
ahh, sweet relief.
like the Tower card in my Tarot deck, i feel like i've been leveled. ground zero. everything i've ever believed, everything i've thought i've known has just been obliterated. in the best way possible.
i feel a renewed strength to carry on in my fight for my life, for well-being and for inner peace. i also feel a re-kindled desire to go out into the community and fight for women and girls who have experienced that which i have also experienced: rape, abuse, humiliation, eating disorders, substance abuse. i want to talk. i want to write. IT'S NOT OUR FAULT. so why do we still have to suffer? what's the problem here?
when a lover whispers in your ear, "Thanks for the fuck," that's a problem. when a guy hits his girlfriend during an argument, THAT is a problem. when a man looks at a woman wearing a flattering dress and high heels and says, "I like when you dress like a slut," THAT is a problem. when a manager corners his underage employee in a walk-in freezer at a juice bar and begins kissing her neck, THAT is a motherfucking problem. when a guy gets his girlfriend pregnant and then dumps her after the abortion, THAT is a problem. When a woman is raped as she leaves a bar, THAT is a problem.
why are things like these happening?
we need to figure this out.
all of the above incidents have happened either to me or to close friends of mine. my response to these atrocities: reclaim your power, girls. and i'm not just talking dress sexy, work your way to the top of the corrupt corporate ladder, and take shots with the big boys. screw the big boys. i am sick of being silent. i'm tired of this being okay. this is not the Victorian Era. this is 2009. time to evolve, people.
yoga classes, body appreciation workshops, anger management classes, art therapy: these all need to be free. they need to be available to ALL people, regardless of socioeconomic status. i'm not saying yoga is going to save the world, but it might. any philosophy that encourages the practice of non-violence (ahimsa) is worth a shot in my book. the problem is, the people who need it most don't see its benefits. it's a shame.
boycott fashion magazines; they're 80% ads, anyway...save your money.
refuse to see movies that are sexist, racist, unnecessarily violent.
talk with your sons, your daughters, your nieces, your nephews, and your cousins about sexuality. it's so harmful to assume that the schools will teach them everything they need to know, or that it's not important to share your own experiences with them. it is silence that is harmful.
thanks for letting me rant. i have been triggered. i'll cool down soon. but i think i've found a reason why i died and came back.
11.14.2009
good grief
i've spent a lot of my life grieving. i'm getting good at it.
grief provides the crucible in which my soul is scoured clean. thank you for the pleasure and the pain, for one does not exist without the other. i had almost forgotten to feel how wonderful it is to be alive. i need reminding every now and again.
thank you for friendships that withstand the fluctuation of ego and the chaos right before the phoenix rises. i know some of you feel the pain i feel. don't get too immersed in it. i don't plan to. but give me my time to grieve. let me be sad and angry and confused while the gold specks settle to the bottom of the pan. i sifted through much grit and sledge this time around.
matriarchal society. it has been a long time. i suppose it makes sense that it would save our existence as human beings on this planet. that transformation will hurt a bit, like needle sliding into flesh. cant watch it, can you? i watch it. its happening...might as well be present to it. besides, i hold the superstition that when one of the senses is incapacitated, the others are enhanced to compensate. let the visual be the distraction.
i could raise a boy to be a man. raise a girl to be a woman. give me a few years. maybe even a decade. i will be fantastic as a parent. for once, my ultra-sensitivity will have use outside of the field of healing and fine arts. though my archetype does not show Mother, it is in me by virtue of being female. or maybe i won't have a child. i can't see the future, though i do have visions of it. vivid feelings of what will be.
i loved you. i think i do still. that's why i cannot be with you. i would be miserable with you, deep down. you may have me in small doses: a phone conversation, chat windows, text messages. meetings for lunch, for a beer, for a shoulder to cry on, for help with a yoga pose or a tarot reading. let's discuss art. beauty. society. education. lovers? no. i think that is a landmark that has passed.
grief provides the crucible in which my soul is scoured clean. thank you for the pleasure and the pain, for one does not exist without the other. i had almost forgotten to feel how wonderful it is to be alive. i need reminding every now and again.
thank you for friendships that withstand the fluctuation of ego and the chaos right before the phoenix rises. i know some of you feel the pain i feel. don't get too immersed in it. i don't plan to. but give me my time to grieve. let me be sad and angry and confused while the gold specks settle to the bottom of the pan. i sifted through much grit and sledge this time around.
matriarchal society. it has been a long time. i suppose it makes sense that it would save our existence as human beings on this planet. that transformation will hurt a bit, like needle sliding into flesh. cant watch it, can you? i watch it. its happening...might as well be present to it. besides, i hold the superstition that when one of the senses is incapacitated, the others are enhanced to compensate. let the visual be the distraction.
i could raise a boy to be a man. raise a girl to be a woman. give me a few years. maybe even a decade. i will be fantastic as a parent. for once, my ultra-sensitivity will have use outside of the field of healing and fine arts. though my archetype does not show Mother, it is in me by virtue of being female. or maybe i won't have a child. i can't see the future, though i do have visions of it. vivid feelings of what will be.
i loved you. i think i do still. that's why i cannot be with you. i would be miserable with you, deep down. you may have me in small doses: a phone conversation, chat windows, text messages. meetings for lunch, for a beer, for a shoulder to cry on, for help with a yoga pose or a tarot reading. let's discuss art. beauty. society. education. lovers? no. i think that is a landmark that has passed.
10.29.2009
10 of wands
my "Harsh Truths" reading this morning looked something like this:
WHAT I WANT TO SEE/BELIEVE:
ace of wands: passion, optimism, enthusiasm, drive, beginnings, the source.
i want to believe that i have the drive, the wellspring of energy, the optimism to support my own passions and recovery--to realize my full potential and come to a place of wholeness. i also want to support the people i love as well: to encourage, to help with the processing of events and experiences, to nurture and provide safety for them.
WHAT I DON'T WANT TO SEE/BELIEVE:
xv the devil: temptation, obsession, addiction, unbridled desires, wild behavior, a lust for life.
i get obsessive about things; i fixate on a challenge or a task until it obliterates the balance in my life. i restrict my existence--food, sex, emotions, money--until the buildup of "being good" erupts into the wildness of a binge. by the time i realize what has happened, i am left panting and exhausted...and alone.
WHAT IS TRUE:
iv the emperor: ambition, courage, motivation, rational thought, conquest, legacy
i am the king: i am in control of my environment, my body, my temper, my instincts, my love life. this is not the time to give in to the needs/wants of others. if my kingdom is unpleasant and wretched to oversee, then it is by my own doing.
WHAT I WANT TO HAPPEN:
8 of wands: excitement, bliss, euphoria, rapture, ecstasy, nirvana, pleasure
i want to have no fear, no obstacles to my bliss. i want to live, love, laugh in joy--without stress, without worry. i want to look my demons in the face and laugh until i cry. i want to be wildly happy and experience transcendent pleasure...and i deserve it.
WHAT I DON'T WANT TO HAPPEN:
9 of swords: despair, worry, pressure, guilt, depression, hopelessness, melancholy
i've been here before, and it is a brutal country. i don't care to return. as it is, i am worried about slipping into that dark hole, the place where my strength and stubbornness is what keeps me from catapulting out. it's just a bad dream--WAKE UP.
WHAT WILL HAPPEN:
10 of wands: declaration, warning, advice, guidance, dissuasion, caution
fitting that i begin at the ace and end at the 10. i have taken up the burden in order to gain some illusion of control. i cannot save anyone, nor do i have the energy. the advice is to put down that which is unnecessary, that which is sapping my strength. what is it that i am putting more into than i get out of? let it go. i am done. time to restore my energy.
i hate television, but a phrase i heard last night stuck with me through some pretty intense dreams into the morning: "Sometimes you just have to accept that you can't save everyone."
i am not Florence Nightingale. I am Melanie Tormos, and my whole life is ahead of me.
WHAT I WANT TO SEE/BELIEVE:
ace of wands: passion, optimism, enthusiasm, drive, beginnings, the source.
i want to believe that i have the drive, the wellspring of energy, the optimism to support my own passions and recovery--to realize my full potential and come to a place of wholeness. i also want to support the people i love as well: to encourage, to help with the processing of events and experiences, to nurture and provide safety for them.
WHAT I DON'T WANT TO SEE/BELIEVE:
xv the devil: temptation, obsession, addiction, unbridled desires, wild behavior, a lust for life.
i get obsessive about things; i fixate on a challenge or a task until it obliterates the balance in my life. i restrict my existence--food, sex, emotions, money--until the buildup of "being good" erupts into the wildness of a binge. by the time i realize what has happened, i am left panting and exhausted...and alone.
WHAT IS TRUE:
iv the emperor: ambition, courage, motivation, rational thought, conquest, legacy
i am the king: i am in control of my environment, my body, my temper, my instincts, my love life. this is not the time to give in to the needs/wants of others. if my kingdom is unpleasant and wretched to oversee, then it is by my own doing.
WHAT I WANT TO HAPPEN:
8 of wands: excitement, bliss, euphoria, rapture, ecstasy, nirvana, pleasure
i want to have no fear, no obstacles to my bliss. i want to live, love, laugh in joy--without stress, without worry. i want to look my demons in the face and laugh until i cry. i want to be wildly happy and experience transcendent pleasure...and i deserve it.
WHAT I DON'T WANT TO HAPPEN:
9 of swords: despair, worry, pressure, guilt, depression, hopelessness, melancholy
i've been here before, and it is a brutal country. i don't care to return. as it is, i am worried about slipping into that dark hole, the place where my strength and stubbornness is what keeps me from catapulting out. it's just a bad dream--WAKE UP.
WHAT WILL HAPPEN:
10 of wands: declaration, warning, advice, guidance, dissuasion, caution
fitting that i begin at the ace and end at the 10. i have taken up the burden in order to gain some illusion of control. i cannot save anyone, nor do i have the energy. the advice is to put down that which is unnecessary, that which is sapping my strength. what is it that i am putting more into than i get out of? let it go. i am done. time to restore my energy.
i hate television, but a phrase i heard last night stuck with me through some pretty intense dreams into the morning: "Sometimes you just have to accept that you can't save everyone."
i am not Florence Nightingale. I am Melanie Tormos, and my whole life is ahead of me.
10.20.2009
reuniting soon
i haven't posted in awhile. lots of things have been happening...meeting lots of people, feeling confused, angry, sad, scared...terrified?
thought i would have a heart attack a little while ago. my heart has seemed to find it's natural rhythm now...all it took was a few deep breaths, some laughter. feeling love and forgiveness in my heart. deep affection. relief, because even though i know less than i did, i know more. i thought i knew what was happening, then all at once i panicked, probably from the shock of knowing it was truth--"knowing" not from proof or confirmation, simply from a feeling, a knowing in my heart and in my soul.
what if you could "see" the web in which we are all woven together? everything is connected, you know, like a beautiful, intricate matrix, delicate strings. fine mesh. the paper-thin membrane that holds our muscles, our innards--our bodies intact, appearing to be tenuous and fragile, but with immense, amazing tenacity. everyone go out and cast your circles. become aware of who you are...really. study your past because it is your future. the less you are aware of, the longer it will take you to figure it out the next time around. good thing you get to choose who you want to live as...choose your own adventure.
am i in danger? i don't know. i know danger when i feel it, so i suppose i'll have to stay alert. but i usually always am, even when it seems like i am not. i have studied well, and am on my way to mastering the state of think/no-think...of exploring sheath by sheath the full energy of my being.
it's beautiful. terribly so.
i used to think it horrible to be so sensitive. an empath. a healer. how could that be horrible? how can parents tell their children, "don't be sensitive?" it is better to be coarse? vulgar? callous? rough? i would rather be gentle, refined, soft, flowing, receptive. open. learn to control the opening and closing of the chakras...THAT will protect you.
10.08.2009
day 2 of painting
creation. creativity.
i create for the sheer joy of making something out of nothing.
an old toy cell phone...a walnut...broken scissors handles...scraps of fabric and bits of paper...broken glass...sewing thread...bubble wrap. these are undone from their identities and become part of something larger and more beautiful, more fantastic. it takes energy and time, a labor of love.
paint gets under my nails and in my cuticles, and somehow, i have a bright red streak on my neck.
i have no idea what the finished product will look like, but i know it will be something. people will look at it...and look...and look. i look now as it sits, propped up against the wall, parts of canvas showing through and messy strokes sketching the movement of the shapes.
it changes every minute, every hour, every day.
why do i crave this? who WOULDN'T want to create? with the intention of taking unrelated parts and making them whole, of uniting and harmonizing color, line, shape, texture, i realize that i produce beauty because I AM beautiful. creativity is a ritual to honor our own divine, sublime, innate beauty. it resonates with others because, as beautiful beings, they recognize beauty. remember that the next time you are drawn to a picture, a drawing, a photo. visit museums, galleries, art fairs. read. attend plays, operas, ballets, symphonies. sing. dance. cook. make love. whatever you create, manifest it in a spirit of joy, gratitude and love.
i create for the sheer joy of making something out of nothing.
an old toy cell phone...a walnut...broken scissors handles...scraps of fabric and bits of paper...broken glass...sewing thread...bubble wrap. these are undone from their identities and become part of something larger and more beautiful, more fantastic. it takes energy and time, a labor of love.
paint gets under my nails and in my cuticles, and somehow, i have a bright red streak on my neck.
i have no idea what the finished product will look like, but i know it will be something. people will look at it...and look...and look. i look now as it sits, propped up against the wall, parts of canvas showing through and messy strokes sketching the movement of the shapes.
it changes every minute, every hour, every day.
why do i crave this? who WOULDN'T want to create? with the intention of taking unrelated parts and making them whole, of uniting and harmonizing color, line, shape, texture, i realize that i produce beauty because I AM beautiful. creativity is a ritual to honor our own divine, sublime, innate beauty. it resonates with others because, as beautiful beings, they recognize beauty. remember that the next time you are drawn to a picture, a drawing, a photo. visit museums, galleries, art fairs. read. attend plays, operas, ballets, symphonies. sing. dance. cook. make love. whatever you create, manifest it in a spirit of joy, gratitude and love.
10.06.2009
you can't be full and be filled
yesterday i trekked into the Ojai hills.
(the autumn is clearly upon us: the wind tells me, the light tells me.)
i had no vision of my destination and there was a moment when i hesitated, not knowing how far i would be going, or if i had enough water. but the momentum drove me on. up and up and up, feeling blood push through my veins and bring a flush to my cheeks. the pure air drove me on. each step connected me to the dry, dusty earth, even as i rose higher towards the California sky. the footfalls behind me drove me on.
the silence was delicious. low shrubs shed their seeds and manzanita bark peeled up to form ruby curls. (the plant kingdom is so alien, so fascinating.) when the clouds passed over the sun, the air chilled; when the trail curved back into the light, the air lightly baked my skin. i meditated. breathing in, i am breathing in. breathing out, i am breathing out. panic, anxiety, anger, rage, sorrow, weariness, one by one they bubbled up into my consciousness and then burst at the crown of my head. i passed many layers while i walked.
the point is that i cannot receive this in civilization. if i do, it is a teasing taste, and temporary. only between the vast expanse of sky and the craggy mass of shale and sandstone--or between the deep and the shallows of the sea--do i ever totally decompress.
today, my sore muscles remind me. they remind me of my strength, and also of my vulnerability. i don't know who or what i am, and not knowing makes me confident in what i must do. thank you, gaia, for selflessly giving me pause. for absorbing the ugly heaviness of human life, the residue of the ego. for keeping me from complacency and reminding me of where i come from.
sinking my roots and turning my face up to the sun, i smile. i cry. i am.
(the autumn is clearly upon us: the wind tells me, the light tells me.)
i had no vision of my destination and there was a moment when i hesitated, not knowing how far i would be going, or if i had enough water. but the momentum drove me on. up and up and up, feeling blood push through my veins and bring a flush to my cheeks. the pure air drove me on. each step connected me to the dry, dusty earth, even as i rose higher towards the California sky. the footfalls behind me drove me on.
the silence was delicious. low shrubs shed their seeds and manzanita bark peeled up to form ruby curls. (the plant kingdom is so alien, so fascinating.) when the clouds passed over the sun, the air chilled; when the trail curved back into the light, the air lightly baked my skin. i meditated. breathing in, i am breathing in. breathing out, i am breathing out. panic, anxiety, anger, rage, sorrow, weariness, one by one they bubbled up into my consciousness and then burst at the crown of my head. i passed many layers while i walked.
the point is that i cannot receive this in civilization. if i do, it is a teasing taste, and temporary. only between the vast expanse of sky and the craggy mass of shale and sandstone--or between the deep and the shallows of the sea--do i ever totally decompress.
today, my sore muscles remind me. they remind me of my strength, and also of my vulnerability. i don't know who or what i am, and not knowing makes me confident in what i must do. thank you, gaia, for selflessly giving me pause. for absorbing the ugly heaviness of human life, the residue of the ego. for keeping me from complacency and reminding me of where i come from.
sinking my roots and turning my face up to the sun, i smile. i cry. i am.
9.24.2009
fear or love?
i'm sitting and gazing at my painting. more trees. i think i love them so much because they are quiet, patient things, and yet the growth of their roots can break cement and penetrate solid rock.
patience is a virtue, but when does tolerance become a lack of boundaries? as i learn to be more accepting of myself and the path my life has taken, i try to accept people as they are--imperfect, with their own issues, disorders...human equivalents of mechanical glitches. if i am perfectly imperfect, then so must be everyone else. is it so abnormal that my ego gets bruised, then, when another's comments cause me to sit up and scream (in my own head, of course), what the f*&# did you just tell me that for?
i get jealous. i am insecure about my looks, about my career path, about where i live. it's not so much that i have learned to like all these aspects of my life, but i have realized that they might change--or not--in time...but i cannot speed up or slow down the course of Nature. i am where i need to be. i celebrate what i have been through because it is life, and life is Divine Love's gift to my soul. it would be rude to toss it over my shoulder like a dirty sock, though i've tried to do that in my past.
at the same time, i have my doubts.
of all the pairs of eyes in the world, why is it that i react so strongly to these? of all the painting styles in the world, why do i feel compelled to slather gel medium onto my canvas and proceed to pile up all sorts of ridiculous materials on top of it, until it hurts my brain to look at it?
i suppose the question becomes:
do i act out of fear--or out of love?
as much as he drives me mad with the things he says sometimes, i love him. as tedious and sticky as my creative process gets sometimes, i love to do it. as loud as the voice in my head gets, telling me "what are you doing?"--it gives me reason to love my life.
who decides what is healthy, normal or sane? as long as no violence is being done to self or others, knock yourself out. it's all a learning experience.
patience is a virtue, but when does tolerance become a lack of boundaries? as i learn to be more accepting of myself and the path my life has taken, i try to accept people as they are--imperfect, with their own issues, disorders...human equivalents of mechanical glitches. if i am perfectly imperfect, then so must be everyone else. is it so abnormal that my ego gets bruised, then, when another's comments cause me to sit up and scream (in my own head, of course), what the f*&# did you just tell me that for?
i get jealous. i am insecure about my looks, about my career path, about where i live. it's not so much that i have learned to like all these aspects of my life, but i have realized that they might change--or not--in time...but i cannot speed up or slow down the course of Nature. i am where i need to be. i celebrate what i have been through because it is life, and life is Divine Love's gift to my soul. it would be rude to toss it over my shoulder like a dirty sock, though i've tried to do that in my past.
at the same time, i have my doubts.
of all the pairs of eyes in the world, why is it that i react so strongly to these? of all the painting styles in the world, why do i feel compelled to slather gel medium onto my canvas and proceed to pile up all sorts of ridiculous materials on top of it, until it hurts my brain to look at it?
i suppose the question becomes:
do i act out of fear--or out of love?
as much as he drives me mad with the things he says sometimes, i love him. as tedious and sticky as my creative process gets sometimes, i love to do it. as loud as the voice in my head gets, telling me "what are you doing?"--it gives me reason to love my life.
who decides what is healthy, normal or sane? as long as no violence is being done to self or others, knock yourself out. it's all a learning experience.
9.22.2009
equinox
i can feel the shift in the season even though the weather has not yet perceptibly shifted. i suppose as the climate changes, California's seasons will become more and more rebellious. i sense an earthquake coming, or that's the arrival of autumn i sense...
the day passed quickly; hopefully the night will give me ample time to dream richly.
the days will grow short, darkness will fall sooner and i will be forced to prepare my psyche for a turning-inward. i always became extremely depressed during my birthday month in the past. now that i am more stable, i wonder how October will pan out?
a concert, a camping trip. new love? true love?
seems i can't stay single for very long these days. i need to "take things slow," whatever that might mean. code for "no sex?" or maybe "don't make any major purchases together for the first 5 months?" i'm getting quite good at moving with the flow of life, giving up resistance sooner and learning my lessons more quickly and the first few times around. i'd say that's growth!
poised. balanced. perched on the edge of a knife. maybe not: maybe the bottom of a slope or the top of a track. either way, i am going to move, shift, transform and change. i try not to be afraid. or if i am, i admit it and move on. of course i'm afraid. the economy is lifeless and i have 3 part-time jobs. i am an art-maker with few connections (as of yet). shall i go back to school now? where would i go? stay?
in autumn, the harvest is celebrated. candles are lit to remind us of the summer that burned hot not so long ago. music, mead and dancing...not yet worrying about the barren winter to come. not quite the case in SoCal, but i will celebrate my birth. how many more to go? winter and death are too far off yet.
9.21.2009
anahata
a boy i know is struggling to find himself, to know himself, to love himself.
actually, i know quite a few people who are on that path.
here is an excerpt from my note to him:
i agree that the world is a sad place, full of ignorant people without any spiritual connection. religion and dogma, power and corruption, lust and desire have shaped our culture to value more knowledge and more power and more lust. my "breakdown"--or whatever you want to call it--my journey--has transformed me from an academically gifted, self-absorbed girl into a human being who recognizes both her pitiful, self-imposed limitations as well as her sublime and perfect connection to the Divine. because i came so close to death, i had no choice but to see it. i hope that, like you, more and more of us come to realize our interconnectedness...our common thread that weaves us to the Source from which we--and all life--came. this is not to say we should all forsake our logic, our pragmatism, our possessions, or our identities. rather, we can take root in the awareness of Divine wisdom and consciousness, and from there, nourish our individual gifts and unique perspectives to allow for the realization of our Highest Potential.
i wish someone would have told me, when i was in a similar place, that knowledge can only take you so far. at some point, you will need to let go of everything you have ever known...surrender and make yourself utterly vulnerable. only when the vessel is empty can it be filled. this applies to my heart, to my wallet, to my schedule, to my cereal bowl.
ironically, i drew The Hierophant in my daily Tarot reading. The Hierophant is a symbol of spirituality, but also of orthodoxy, ritual and tradition. For me, the importance of this figure lies in his break from convention as much as his adherence to it. Question all that you have ever learned. Dare to allow your dreams to be Truth, for even though you may not understand them, in time, they will show you exactly what you need to know. let's move out of the solar plexus, the power center, the burning of activity and metabolism and digestion, and into the heart center, anahata, "the unstruck," where we stop grasping and grabbing and taking, and start to open, to receive, to share and to serve.
no matter how many times my heart breaks wide open, i still love.
9.20.2009
darkness and light
i have been to hell and emerged: scarred, humbled and strong.
imagine: 10 years of exercise addiction and eating disorders, eight years between high school graduation and my bachelor's degree (and i had well above a 4.0 GPA), seven razorblade cuts to the wrist, six years of therapy (at least), five types of drugs with which i experiemented, four hospitalizations, three years of teaching, two suicide attempts, and a partridge in a pear tree (or an owl hovering under a full moon, inches above my head). this has been my life.
i'm not born-again, but i have chipped away at the thick shell of self-loathing, self-abuse, shame, rage and despair slowly and consistently. i build up those textures again in my artwork so that they have somewhere to be--a record of a purge that renders me pure and clear again.
no, i'm not perfect or cured or normal or recovered...yet. i am real. i am honest. i have a good sense of my Truth. i have learned that unfastening my cold, weighty armor is the closest i can get to freedom. vulnerability is the path to love, and love is the only freedom--the only heaven--our poor selves will ever know.
are we spiritual beings having a human experience? absolutely.
is the human experience messy, painful and exhausting? yes.
but i have found that i was born into this world with the capacity to sense unsurpassed beauty--so much beauty, in fact, that sometimes i can't help sobbing, overwhelmed by it all. it doesn't matter what i see: the moonrise, a small stone on the beach, a man with so much pain in his body and so much gentleness in his fingers and a story of betrayal in his eyes. it is all beautiful to me.
i eat oatmeal for breakfast. and i spend money on things i don't really need when i am stressed and sad. i am late paying my bills sometimes. i am so joyfully human, so lonely, so resilient, so selfish, so creative, so emotional, so intellectual. so soulful.
i imagine we all have scars. i know we all have stories. the important thing is to tell them. that is how we know we are not alone, not really.
imagine: 10 years of exercise addiction and eating disorders, eight years between high school graduation and my bachelor's degree (and i had well above a 4.0 GPA), seven razorblade cuts to the wrist, six years of therapy (at least), five types of drugs with which i experiemented, four hospitalizations, three years of teaching, two suicide attempts, and a partridge in a pear tree (or an owl hovering under a full moon, inches above my head). this has been my life.
i'm not born-again, but i have chipped away at the thick shell of self-loathing, self-abuse, shame, rage and despair slowly and consistently. i build up those textures again in my artwork so that they have somewhere to be--a record of a purge that renders me pure and clear again.
no, i'm not perfect or cured or normal or recovered...yet. i am real. i am honest. i have a good sense of my Truth. i have learned that unfastening my cold, weighty armor is the closest i can get to freedom. vulnerability is the path to love, and love is the only freedom--the only heaven--our poor selves will ever know.
are we spiritual beings having a human experience? absolutely.
is the human experience messy, painful and exhausting? yes.
but i have found that i was born into this world with the capacity to sense unsurpassed beauty--so much beauty, in fact, that sometimes i can't help sobbing, overwhelmed by it all. it doesn't matter what i see: the moonrise, a small stone on the beach, a man with so much pain in his body and so much gentleness in his fingers and a story of betrayal in his eyes. it is all beautiful to me.
i eat oatmeal for breakfast. and i spend money on things i don't really need when i am stressed and sad. i am late paying my bills sometimes. i am so joyfully human, so lonely, so resilient, so selfish, so creative, so emotional, so intellectual. so soulful.
i imagine we all have scars. i know we all have stories. the important thing is to tell them. that is how we know we are not alone, not really.
9.18.2009
stigma
i used to think i had good intuition.
fast forward to 2009, and i have no idea what the ideal mate might look like, sound like, smell like. my chemistry--my hormones--have absolutely no communication with my intellect, and it's getting real, REAL frustrating.
man? woman? older? younger?
bad boy? genius boy? responsible boy? art boy? hot boy? man-boy with no business "walking the fence," shall we say? makes it exciting until it makes it trying and tiring. where the hell are all my choices?
i am in my workplace, minding my own business. i have just ended a relationship. i have sworn off any type of liason for AT LEAST a month...maybe two? i need to focus on my art. my spiritual growth. i want to be able to finish all 108 sun salutations for the New Year's Mala.
i am not lonely, am i? no. no? no. i'm good. i'm single. i'm just living my life.
boy meets girl. boy gives girl number. girl calls number. girl sets up meeting over wine. boy is...not the artist she thought he might be? boy is...mysterious, fragmented, interesting, brilliant? boy is...diagnosed? so is girl. everyone has the right to a "normal" life. right? full life? blind leading the just-emerging-into-the-big-time? chemistry is good. so is chocolate. mmm, chocolate. girl needs to find chocolate boy?
dating is dead. courting is dead. is it me? is there a big tattoo on my forehead: OPEN, IMPRESSIONABLE, NAIEVE, PATIENT, ADORABLE, BUT SHELTERED, BUT CRAZY TOO...C'MON OVER?
am i sabotaging myself? am i living in the moment, trying not to make assumptions? am i rebelling against my parents: What Would Mom NOT Do? do i think i'm keeping an open heart? am i? am i a fool? am i mature or just young and stupid?
i guess it doesn't really matter. it is what it is (does EVERYONE use this phrase?). live life until you are full to overflowing, or sit and rot inside your little suburban bubble.
i, for one, am going to write one bitchin' autobiography.
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