Lessons in Tidbits and Morsels

Feeling a bit lonely today, so thought to be with it a bit.

I relish alone time and have been 'unpartnered' nearly five years.
  It has been a rich, wonderous and incredibly fulfilling time.

And, though I love time with self, I also delight in community.
  I love being in relation with another, and with others.

Recently, I had an encounter with a soul mate.
  That experience reminded me about the dance of relationships.

I remembered that relationships are delicious and challenging,
  rife with opportunities to discover and grow and bear the growth pains!

Being in relation with another calls forth ones soul,
  surfaces lessons to learn and wounds to heal in ones self.

The relationship itself gains form and character through the
  interactions of the two, develops its own life, and requires care.

Because I migrate toward depth and significance in relationships,
  the experience with an other, by its very nature, will be intense.

For all these reasons, the call to engage the self with an other is momentous.
  So, for me to embrace that dance, it must be authentic and in-depth.

And, the loneliness?
  I remembered the world-wrapped-in-a-relationship feeling and,
  having briefly touched it once again,
  feel the loss of it.

Letting Go...With Grace

Spirit is walking me through an intensive
  on a very particular lesson, namely, how
  to gracefully let go of things not meant for me.

Opportunities for me to explore, practice and learn
  from this lesson have been manifold in my life of late,
  so much so that I feel like an undersized boxer in the ring
  with a leviathan who takes delight in using me as a bouncing ball.

I've moved diligently through my classic
  stages of response to this recent bout with Spirit, from

'OK, we're working this together,' to
  'Ummm, what am I missing?' to
  'OK, I'll push harder,' to
  'What is going on here?' to
  'OK, I'll try a new approach, a different perspective, a creative idea, any idea...' to
  'It's getting scary down here!' to
  'Damn you spirit!  I am gonna do this on my own!' to
  'I can't believe this is happening?!  ...and, I'm still pissed!' to
  'How far will this go?  OMG!  Is that the bottom approaching?'

And, Spirit doesn't let up.
  I like to think that Spirit keeps up the pressure
  because I can handle it, I'm up for this lesson, I won't crack.

But then, I did crack.
  For days, I couldn't get through a sentence
  without dissolving into tears.  The insults to my ego
  rushed in without pause, layering one upon the other
  so that, blood rushing into my eyes and head spinning,
  it was all I could do to simply stand.

And, through it all, these words resonated
  like cosmic background noise...
  'It matters how gracefully
  you let go of things
  not meant for you.'

So, with each hope thwarted, I endeavored
  to the best of my wavering ability to recognize
  and accept that 'it' wasn't meant for me,
  and then to let go of 'it'.

There are so many levels to this lesson...
  Recognizing when something really isn't meant for you..
  Accepting that it was not meant for you, just accepting.
  Staying close to the truth and not creating false storylines.
  Letting go of it...really, in all ways.
  Facing forward, free from attachments to it.

But, what if the 'its' that aren't for you pile up
  into a mountain over which you can no longer see?
  What if the pile of 'not meant for you's becomes so
  enormous that you are forced to ask an even deeper question?

But, let me put this into real terms before
  I dissolve into the abstractness of my own thoughts.

The real-life exemplar is me trying to find work.
  The 'it's are each of the many jobs for which I have applied
  this last year.  The 'not meant for you's are the rejection letters.

The mountains are, first, the pure volume of rejected applications.
  And secondly, they are the mounds of rejections from every sector,
  every level of every position, even from applications to volunteer.
  And, by the way, how does one get rejected as a volunteer?!

It has been nothing short of a complete 'shut out'.
  Isn't that what they call it in sports?  'No contest.'  'Out.'
  I should be careful with sports analogies.
  You get the point, though, right?

So, getting back to the 'being forced to ask a deeper question' thought..
  Perhaps the lesson surpasses that of letting go of individual incidents.
  Facing a total 'shut out', I wonder if I am missing a cardinal principle.
  So, I try to re-visualize the panoptic theme of this life-lesson...

  What, really, am I being asked to let go?

Perhaps, I'm not supposed to make a living with my doctorate.
  Perhaps, I'm supposed to work a noncareer job so that I can write.
  Perhaps, my skills aren't those desired in the marketplace.  That's a no-brainer.
  Perhaps, I'm not supposed to offer my working life to address humanitarian needs.
  Perhaps, I'm just supposed to be happy and it doesn't matter what I do for work.
  Perhaps, I'm supposed to experience homelessness and poverty and write about it.

And, then my understanding of the basic question evolves...
  What does it mean to 'let go'?
  How do I know if I really 'let go'?
  What does 'letting go' look like?
  How am I different when I've been successful at 'letting go'?

And in the middle of all this, Spirit ups-the-ante.
  Without warning, I meet a soulmate, on this plane?!
  And even as I become aware of this most incredible fact,
  I am reminded...

being soulmates does not mean
  that you will walk together in this life.
  And, if you do share some part of this journey,
  it doesn't dictate the particular path you will walk.

The soul is bound to the flesh,
  so our paths are created by our steps.
  Intentions we set prior to this incarnation
  are not predestined to manifest in a particular way.
  They are, quite simply, the pebble cast in the pond.

The outcome of our meeting is dependent,
  not on the hopes of our immortal selves,
  but on the decisions we make here, now.

So, I meet a soul mate and quickly learn
  that she does not feel the connection as do I,
  and that she desires, rather, to turn inward
  and be with those dear ones already in her life.

And, I am asked once again to accept that walking with
  this soulmate is 'not meant for me.'  I'm asked to 'let go'.
  And, putting the proverbial 'icing on the cake',
  I am asked to 'let go with grace'.

Up to now, assimilating the 'letting go' lesson has been difficult.
  But this particular iteration of learning has come with a surprising twist.
  It has been incredibly powerful, awesome, inspiring and uplifting.

Something clicked as I watched this soulmate walking away.
  It was a deep understanding that some things,
  some people, really aren't meant for me.
  Trying to forcefit them destroys beauty,
  creates harm, and never ever works.

Letting go, on the other hand,
  allows you to recognize and relish
  the gifts that really are offered in that moment.

The exquisite gift of meeting a soulmate in this life IS for me.
  Feeling the profound and ageless love for a soulmate IS for me.
  Knowing that she is out there and being able to bless her walk IS for me.

And then there's the grace in letting go.
  That's a whole other aspect of the lesson
  Spirit is asking me to absorb into my being.

And then there is transforming the letting go into a act of grace.
  To act with an elegance, a gentleness, a compassionate heart,
  and a 'go with God' frame of mind.
  One is asked to love even as one accepts what is not meant to be.

So, I still have no job or income.
  And, the soulmate I only just met is not here.
  But, I believe I am starting to get this lesson.
  And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Until Just Recently

She came to me in a vision.
  Out of the mist, she stepped into my dreamstate.
  She stood my height, dark hair cut just below her ears.
  She had a strong presence and a gentle, compassionate spirit.

As soon as I saw her,  I knew
  we were to be together.  She knew too.
  It was a moment filled with awe, thankfulness
  for finally meeting again in this life, and saddness.

Through tears and sorrow she said, 'Please wait for me.'
  'I have waited a lifetime to be together.  But to come to you,
  I must first say "good-bye" to another.  Please wait for me,' she cried.

Without hesitation, I agreed to wait.
  Witnessing the honest and compassionate way that
  she held her lover, I felt a profound honor for her spirit.
  And as she stepped back into the mist, I felt God's smile.

That was July of this summer.
  The time was imminent, but not immediate.
  So, I lived my life and eventually forgot of our meeting,
  until just recently.

Step in When I Fall

Of my many fallibilities,
  I doubt, in the end,
  I'll be faulted for not trying hard enough.

The dents and bruises on my head
  attest to the persistent and sometimes
  bullheaded endeavors to 'get it right' or
  'make my life work'.

And for one who endeavors so hard
  to 'blaze the trail', 'find my way',
  'be a responsible co-creator'...

to hear the words, 'You are trying too hard.'
  is tantamount to saying, 'Don't be you.'

Coughing, sputtering, building the line of defense...
  spitting it out...'But, it is my responsibility!'
  'I'm supposed to care for myself.'
  'I can find my way!'
  'I will do it!'

Caught in the whirlwind of my own making,
  I, the whirling dervish, spin and push and spin faster.
  Bleeding, I wipe the blood from my eyes
  and push harder with deeper commitment...

until, inevitably, I crash.
  For one can hold that energy for only so long.

And then, I find my self in the oh-so-familiar-place
  of a substance less all its vital organs and structures,
  amoebic, heaped into a mass of misdirected intention.

And finally, I say, 'OK, I give.  Perhaps, it is not for me to decide.'
  'Perhaps, I need to hand it over, to release, to let go, to allow.'

And, I hope that spirit will take that invite quickly,
  for I am practiced at getting up from that place
  and pushing forward when I need to lie still.

Catch me, Spirit.
  Show me what I can not see.

The Wise Crone

I am amused by this self.
  53 years and so much seeking, witnessing, learning.
  Yet still, I tread old paths...the ones I KNOW don't work.

And, I set foot upon them at exactly the moment
  when I am asked to reset my direction, alter my true north.
  Is this the human experience, or am I just an incredibly slow learner?

I have a vision of my self as an elder woman, the crone.
  I sit, wrapped in a shawl, upon my rocking chair.
  The chair's voice, creaky as my own, sings
  into the melting day.

I hear a laugh or remember a tear.
  So, I turn my head and glance over my shoulder.
  In the beyond, I see one of the many moments lived.

And, in the witnessing, I am at peace, content, happy.

For I know that, despite the agony or exhilaration of that moment,
  I lived it to the best of my ability...with all that I had...
  in the fullest expression of me.

When I am challenged by life to take another uncertain step,
  I visualize this wise old crone.  She inspires me to search within
  to find the most that I am and to courageously step into the unknown.

My gait is awkward and I get tangled up in my best intentions,
  but I step forward knowing that the wise old crone is smiling and saying,
  'She is doing her best.  And, it's not quite as serious as she thinks it all is!'

Faith

If I were to re-open myself to you, great Spirit,
  what would you say to me?

In my fear, I stepped away - once again - from You.
  I thought to take on my own life,
  not trusting that Your hand moved.

So hard have I been fighting, pushing...
  Again, I find myself, bloodied forehead,
  tears streaking the ink on my paper.

Faith, so very difficult
  at precisely the moment
  I need it most.

Namaste Nigeria!

Hello to fellow journeyers from Nigeria!
I'm so glad to meet you in this space.
Namaste to you
I see you
I honor you

Relationships

I am amused
  when two people say
  they want to start a relationship.

For me, the relationship
  started upon first contact,
  and even prior to their awareness.

Each decision thereafter
  is, for me, an evolution of the
  relationship already underway.

Finding the Words

Usually it comes so easily.
  The words just flow.

But, this thought has not yet
  formed well on paper,
  so I need to try once again.

The thought that evades my attempts
  at description is also the experience
  that eludes my understanding.

It is the experience of knowing
  and not knowing, simultaneously.

It is witnessing my soul and my person respond
  in totally different ways to the same situation,
  simultaneoulsy.

It is sensing the profound wisdom of my soul
  even as I watch my self plunge into confusion,
  simultaneously.

Yes, that's it.
  It is the separate and unique,
  yet indivisible nature of the soul and the person;
  each with a voice and a choice,
  yet both, one.

It's really an incredible dance to witness.
  I am amazed and enthralled,
  excited to watch, and frustrated
  with the extent and limits of my 'knowing'.

So, there's this moment in time when my spirit
  shares with me a 'knowing', like an alert
  to pay attention.

This is the moment when the distinction
  between my person and my spirit
  becomes evident.

My person reacts to the new situation
  with big emotions, classic.
  These emotions are often out-of-sync,
  occurring prior to the event itself and
  with a seemingly undue force.

Then spirit speaks, and I see 'it' all with such clarity.
  That's the moment when I feel suspended in time and space.
  I 'know', I can see 'it'...All.

Yet, even as I encounter the All,
  my person is grappling with the big emotions
  and dancing to the music playing on her heart.

And as my person engages in the dance,
  my 'knowing' dissipates as my spirit
  steps back to watch 'it' unfold.

I am relishing this incredible moment
  when I can see 'it' All, and am fascinated
  to watch it fade from view.

I am aware that the 'knowing' must give way
  to allow the experience.

I am excited and enthralled by what lies ahead,
  and feeling bound once again to this mortal,
  yet entirely spiritual, experience.

The Bugaboo with Gnosis

Funny thing about gnosis...
  You know, but you don't know.

The magic in gnosis is knowing without the learning.
  The challenge lies in dealing with the 'knowing'.

Usually, we learn our way
  into those things we are to know.

The path to our knowing is littered with
  inspiration, failed attempts and
  occasional ephiphanies.

It is the journey on this path that gives us time
  to move through the emotional and psychological
  changes necessary to assimilate the new knowledge.

Skipping this step is what gives rise to the bugaboo with gnosis.
  The, 'Yeah! I don't have to learn my way to this!' elation
  is immediately followed by the disquieting realization that,
  'I have no idea how to live in this?!'

So it goes.
  There is no fast road to wisdom.
  We must walk through life's experiences
  to become one with the lessons it offers.

So, even when we are gifted with gnosis,
  we find ourselves just a few paces ahead
  of where we might have started on our own.

Only now, we live in the strange world of
  simultaneously knowing 'it'
  and having no idea how to live 'it'.

Wisdom Embodied

The awkward walk of a wise soul with a bumbling human.

That's the title of my life,
  the music filling the background
  of the stage on which I play.

That soul is wisdom, grace, and beauty.
  And it selected me, little me,
  to walk with in this life.

I am awkward in my movements,
  fall when attempting to walk,
  subvert my self in my reach to forever,
  seek refuge in worn-out stories,
  prefer the dark to the light...

Yet, my soul remains,
  ever vigilant in its encouragement,
  always watchful of my journey,
  until the end, my companion.

For as deficient as my attempts to live,
  or my understanding of how to be,
  my soul needs me.

The very struggles that bring me to my knees,
  the tears that burn my cheeks,
  the joy that fills my heart...

all these humble attempts to be human
  gift my soul with the lessons it
  embodied to experience.

So, next I see you,
  and when inevitably
  I trip...

Please know that
  somewhere inside this bumbling human
  laughs a magnificent soul!

I Love You I Love You I Love You

I love you! I love you! I love you!
  Say it.  Just say it!

Look into her eyes,
  and say it.

Hold his hand,
  and sing it.

Pick up the chid,
  and show it.

Embrace your father,
  and know it.

I love you, I love you, I love you

Turn in to yourself,
  and believe it.

Say it, sing it, show it, know it,
  Belive it...

Love
  is alive
  is you
  is possible
  is here, now

No matter the situation,
  how vile or terrible or hopeless

Beyond our fears, our doubts, our pain,
  Love, love, love

Feel it, allow it, be it

See the one you hate,
  the one you don't know,
  the one you hurt,

and know, she, he, they
  are love.

Your essence, the stuff of which you are made,
  the source from which you come,
  is love.

Say it, sing it, show it, know it,
  Believe it...

The Source and the Song

I had a sense the other day
  of being suspended in time.

I felt connected to the source,
  momentarily unhindered by my person.

I felt a flood of knowing
  rush through my being.

I could see into the soul
  of the person I had only just met.

I knew that soul, was grateful
  for finally connecting with her in this life.

And, I knew we had planned this,
  had arranged to meet just now.

The reason for our meeting, I do not know,
  only that our meeting was the invitation.

Suddenly, I flashed back to the moments
  just prior to birthing into this life.

In those moments, I knew why I chose
  to come here and what I planned to learn.

As I made my entrance into this world
  I remember forgetting it all.

For, I was not to know what lay before me.
  The journey was the reason I came.

The mystery that is this life
  would be revealed to me only as I walked.

Likewise, I know that the purpose for our meeting
  will only be revealed if we chose to step into the mystery.

I know the soul, yet have only just met the person.
  The mystery awaits.  Dare we find the song?

Precious Moments

Last night, I slept little
  due in part to the effects of perimenopause,
  but also to the wanderings of my mind through
  the landscape of life as it is now presents itself.

In those wanderings, I came upon an
  exquisite feeling and the realization
  that I had experienced another
  precious moment.

In the re-living of that moment, I examined
 how the ordinary was transformed
  into the extra-ordinary.
  And, this is what I saw.

I was at ease, comfortable almost immediately.
  I fell into the conversation quickly and found
  myself engaged at the level of 'real'.

I laughed and interacted as if with a long-time friend.
  There was a connect between we two
  that surpassed the persons sharing that moment.

Time collapsed into a smile, a comment, a thought.
  So alive was I in that moment that I cannot
  recall the others sharing that space with us.

In the blink of an eye, it was over, yet nigh two hours had passed.
  People, sounds, smells, time...all came back into focus.
  And, I remembered that I was just now meeting this person
  with whom I had shared this extraordinary moment!

So, I re-entered that other reality, dazed, smiling,
  grateful for that moment,
  that extra-ordinary moment.

In a life filled with so many moments ranging
  from blah to excruciatingly painful,
  extra-ordinary moments are a gift.

They often come to us without notice,
  are cloaked in the ordinary,
  and slip by in the everpresent
  pull of time on these mortal bodies.

But, their memory persists and reminds us
  that precious moments are possible,
  are there for each of us,
  are, quite simply, gifts.

All we need do is
  be open to them,
  learn to recognize them,
  enjoy them, and
  revel in the magic.

And then, be grateful
  for this gentle reminder
  that this life really is
  precious.

Depress the Mind, Suppress the Will, Address the Soul

A depression is trying to settle in
  fogging my brain
  slowing my motion

It wants me sit, lay down,
  stop thinking,
  stop trying to
  figure it all out.

Just be
  Don't talk to anyone
  Don't do your work

Sleep, dream, be quiet

Alone is best
  a crowd is fine
  annoymity is safety

Can't figure it out
  can't engage my brain
  no jump starts

Don't care
  Don't want to figure it out

Dull, quiet, resting

Tears ever present
  threaten to burst
  through the tightly held,
  but fragile veil

To keep them at bay
  don't interact
  just stay quiet
  don't think
  don't do

just rest and be

My soul needs time
  attention
  is requiring me
  to turn
  inward

The Collision...or is it Collusion... of Ironies

The irony of my trip to the food stamp office today
  does not elude me.

How is it that a woman with two advanced degrees
  and 20 years experience finds herself on
  this particular errand?

Nor does the fact that,
  on my journey to this next assault on my ego,
  I got lost in a neighborhood lined with golden-red trees
  standing sentry to the million-dollar homes
  tucked amidst ornamental lawns.

 The food stamp worker was distracted,
  so I asked if he was bored.
  He smiled and said he was thinking
  about grocery shopping.

The irony here also didn't elude me.

So I sat, holding back the seemingly unending
  deluge of tears, waiting for the next worker
  to bring me a card - a food stamp card.

Now, I will wait for another week or two to
  find out if I qualify.

What, I think, does a family without food
  or means of getting food,
  do during this wait period?

Are they the ones standing on the street corners
  with cardboard 'Please help me' signs?

Or, are they at work and school,
  trying to ignore the hunger pains and
  hoping noone hears the incessant growling
  of a stomach filled only with emptiness?

Life Spiraling

The corkscrew

I see this corkscrew
  winding up and down.

It is solid in that it
  is ever present, and
  winds only up and down.

The essence of this corkscrew?

It is the core of me,
  not the spirit from which I was born
  for nothing can contain that spirit.

No, the 'me' to which I refer
  is the being into which I chose
  to be born...the one named Kristen.

The core of me contains the lessons
  and questions and gifts I brought to this life.
  The core of me is the reason I am here.

And corkscrews, as you know, are spirals.
  Turning them, they move up and down,
  because, you see, life is a spiral.

Life is not linear.  That sense of linearity is merely
  an illusion caused by the pull of gravity upon this flesh.
  No, energy and life moves in spirals.

And that is how I experience my self in this life.
  New situations, encounters with new people,
  alight in me familiar responses, feelings, struggles...

And, when I catch a breath from living
  that particular moment, I recognize
  once again

the core of me is present,
  endeavoring to learn, to understand,
  to heal, to reach out and forward...upward.

Sometimes, I move upward on that spiral,
  feeling the joy of having learned or healed
  in some small, but significant way.

Other times, I slide down the spiral.
  Sometimes, I dangle precariously from the end,
  crying out in pain as my strength to hold on diminishes.

Funny thing is, even when, or especially when,
  my strength gave way and I felt myself falling into the abyss,
  I never did.

I was always securely held, loved.
  Even the falling is part of this experience of life.
  And, it is not the end, no matter how horrible
  it feels in the moment.

It is, rather I believe, me slipping downward on the corkscrew.
  And, tomorrow, I will slip up again.

Despair doesn't last forever,
  and neither does happiness,
  for they are both merely emotions.

Joy however, as my father said,
  lasts forever, surpasses all things human,
  holds us steady through all
  and greets us when at last
  we emerge from the spiral
  that is this particular life.

Here and Back, Again

I had this image upon waking
  of a corkscrew.

As I travel through this life,
  I bring with me the core elements
  of me.

Like a corkscrew, the core of me
  winds its way into various situations
  no matter where I am
  no matter what is happening
  no matter what age I am

There is the core,
  solid as energy can be
  everpresent
  at the center
  of my experience.

The energy that is me
  flows up and down
  that corkscrew,
  lingering now
  in this moment
  and flowing once again
  into another.

There is only one way
  that the energy that is me
  will leave this corkscrew...
  through the top.

One day, I will be finished
  with the work I've come to complete
  and my energy will move effortlessly
  up the corkscrew and gently
  flow out of the tip.

If you are watching,
  you'll see a spray
  of sparkles, dancing lightly
  before dissolving into the ether.

But, I won't be gone.
  I will be the pure energy
  from which I...and you...
  emerged.

And, I will be deciding
  the next journey
  on which to embark
  to unravel yet another
  experience and lesson for this soul.

Smiling

I am so amazed!
  So many readers on this blog from all over the world?!
  And now, new readers from Belarus and Kazakhstan?!

Yes, the internet is the means through which we find each other.
  But, I'm feeling that it is spirit who calls us together...

Spirit, for which we have thousands of names
  and even more interpretations...

but which calls all hearts and souls
  inspires in humankind a need to search
  challenges us to think/imagine beyond
  welcomes all, celebrates difference
  smiles in compassion

says, 'Yes' to us all

Belarus and Kazakhstan AND Nigeria!

Namaste!

I welcome readers from Belarus and Kazakhstan and most recently, Nigeria, to this little community.  Peace to you all!

Columbia, Bulgaria, Malaysia, Ukraine, Thailand, South Korea, the UK,
Germany, Viet Nam, Denmark, Russia, Brazil, Taiwan, Philippines, Hungary, Latvia,
the Netherlands, Denmark, the US, Norway, Israel, Australia, India, France,
Indonesia, Sweden, China, Egypt, Singapore, Tunisia, Guatemala, Puerto Rico,
South Africa, Chile, the Czech Republic, Hong Kong, Spain, Canada,
Portugal, Argentina, Morocco, Qatar, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Nigeria

Words and Meanings

Perhaps you wonder why I use the feminine pronoun as a matter of course.
  It's not that I don't like men.  Some of my favorite people are men.
  It's also not that I'm gay, or even that I'm a woman.

It IS that as a writer, I can see the values tucked into words and phrases and idioms.
  I know that these values are passed from one generation to the next,
  shaping the minds and hearts of countless children, and yes, adults.

And, I don't always agree with the mind-shaping or its consequences.

So, why do we presume that the masculine pronoun must be the norm?
  What values underlie that presumption?
  I assert that values do, in fact, underlie this presumption.

Norming the masculine is not just a way to make writing or reading easier.
  If that were truly the case, then why not just norm the use of the feminine pronoun?
  Why the emotional reaction to that?

Thing is, we tend not to have emotional reactions to grammatical rules.
  Rather, we respond emotionally to issues that are infused with values.
  Hence, my assertion that this is a question of values.

As a writer, I have a responsibility to be transparent regarding my values.
  So, I'll share them.

I believe
  that norming the masculine pronoun reinforces the deeply sexist culture
     embedded within American society,
  that the seemingly rationale arguments for its continued use are really
    methods to legitimate and reinforce that prejudice.
  that this practice is just one example of how words hurt people,
    the objects of the prejudice - in this case women,
    the purveyors of the prejudice,
    the unwitting assimilators of the prejudice...

Words are always infused with values.
  What are our values?
  What is our responsibility regarding those values?
  What kind of world are we trying to shape with those values?

All these questions weigh on my mind.

So, my use of the feminine is for these purposes...
  It is to acknowledge and honor the feminine.
  It is to change the flavor and the tone and the experience
    one has in reading about particular feelings or thoughts.
  It is to debunk notions of what women can and can't do.
  It is to add the unique perspective of the feminine
    to the diverse and wonderful world of thought.
  It is to remind us that words both shape and carry
    culture, values, beliefs and traditions.

And, it is to focus our consciousness on how our
  values and words create this world.

The Nexus

'So what,' you ask, 'are your specific concerns?'
  'What is it that eats at you today?'

But see, I really don't think the specifics matter.
  I think, what really matters is the struggle
  of the material embodying the eternal.

I believe we each craft our own storyline
  to gift us with opportunities to learn
  those things we wish to learn in this life.

Naturally then, the storylines of any two people
  will be quite different, unique to those people.
  So, the specific context, the particular storyline
  is not, for me, the headline.

No, what really matters is that
  my/your heart hurts
  my/your mind gets confused
  my/your spirit grows tired

Those things you all know, right?
  No matter your particular story,
  you can relate to the pain,
  the confusion, the exhaustion.

This is where spirit asks me to live,
  in the space where material and eternal touch,
  in the middle of this turmoil called life.

My particular life circumstances are of benefit
  only insofar as they help to portray the message
  spirit asks me to convey.

That is why, at least for today,
  I choose to stay focused on
  the experience of 'it' all,
  the nexus of material/spiritual.

Things Not Meant for You

Threre is a saying,

In the end, only three things matter,

how much you loved,

how gently you lived, and

how gracefully you let go of

things not meant for you.

Funny, I should come upon this quote just now.
  Asked once again to reflect.
  And the level of emotive clash
  going on inside me tells me
  that these words are for me - now.

So,
  reticently casting off my favored
  'woe-is-me' mask,
  I look inside.

'Things not meant for you...'
  Things not meant for me,
  I can count so many,
  just in the last months.

'But, you are searching in the wrong tote!' she says.
  Logically, if I'm searching in the wrong tote,
  what I find therein will not be what I'm looking for.
  And perhaps, I will find what's not meant for me.

So life, spirit, asks me to let go,
  and not just that, but to let go gracefully.
  A high order for one sitting yet again
  among the shards of hope shattered.

Yet, I wonder...
  If I was looking in the proverbial 'right tote',
  would I then find what, indeed, was meant for me?

The danger here, and I can see it coming,
  is engaging my mind in this process.
  Already, it strives to apply logic
  to a question of spirit.

Already, it is wrapping itself in a tangle
  of self deception cloaked as reason.
  Already, it is confused and frustrated...

So, to spirit I turn
  into my heart I fall
  letting go
  opening up

Believing, hoping
  I can find the prescience to know
  what 'was not meant for me',
  and the grace to let it go.

Praying
  the 'right tote' will be presented,
  I will be given the foresight to recognize it,
  and the wisdom to treat whatever I find within
  as the sacred gift it is.

Pause

Dark
Angry

Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody in here?

No, just the black emptiness

Floating in the void.
  Nice thing about voids,
  there is nothing there...

You laugh
  But really...

The struggles, the trials
  and errors,
  the time that so incessantly
  slips away,
  the noise from the
  eternal battles with self,
  the cacophony of insanity
  called 'civilization'

all melt into nothingness
  and quiet

Even my anger fades
  my self pity
  my fears

Not such a bad place to be
  at least for a moment
  so I can release my breath
  let go the energy broiling in my body
  stop the struggle

Pause

Wind Up Toy

So...just...let go?  That's it?
  How easy does that seem to you?
  Cuz it doesn't sound easy to me.

Why do these 'wise' words always
  have to be such puzzles?
  Why can't they come in
  simple-to-understand terms
  rather than codes and images
  that I am loath to dissect?

Perhaps, I confuse a Jester
  for a Crone/Sage.

Perhaps, you laugh merrily
  at the solemn approach,
  that weary eyes,
  the outreached heart.

Perhaps, it's all a joke to you.
  And so you turn again the key
  on the wind-up-human toy
  and watch in glee

as she marches around
  in circles
  till her head spins
  and she falls

or simply just
  runs out of juice.

'No matter,' say you.
  'I can just wind her up again.'

'No matter,' say I.
  'Nothing matters, really,
  does it?'

Measure Not

Measure not another's behavior from your own stead
  For she walks not your path, but hers
  And her steps follow the voice inside

If you cannot hear the voice inside her
  how can you measure her steps?

Open, Hold on to Nothing

'Open up, hold on to nothing.'

'Nothing?'

'Nothing.'

'My security, my home?'

'Nothing'

'My hopes?'

'Nothing'

'My fears, my humiliation?'

'Let go'

'My joy?'

'Let go'

'My...?'

'Let loose, all of it'

'Me?  Let go of me?'

'Let go'

'Let go of me?'

'Let go'

...

'Open, stay open'

Freed of all material artifacts
  left only with the body holding the soul
  my chest opening
  letting go my soul
  a light shining forth

The light shines through the universe
  envelopes the dark

Reaches out to touch
  watches

Reaches out to touch again
  watches

Reaches in all directions
  touching
  watching

And then one touch
  kindles a light
  shining brightly
  inviting, dancing, rejoicing
  at the match found
  the dance begun
  the mystery opening

'No need to struggle.
  Don't hold on.
  Holding on, you forget
  to reach out and touch,
  you don't see a light
  shining back at you,
  you miss when another
  touches you and your own light
  bursts forth, rejoicing at the connection'

'Open, let go, touch, watch
  let go, let be'

Gossamer

Gossamer
  This is the substance of the wisdom I seek

Barely perceptible,
  I gaze through it without seeing it

Of substance and yet intangible
  Fading in and out like a boat far offshore

Defying my senses,
  luring me to a dimension
  unbound
  by the material

Spirit, Material, Spirit, Spirit, Spirit

Sometimes, this reality feels so dense.

Like the balance between formed and unformed is off.
  Like the material is crowding out the potential.

The material boggs me down, slows my motion, obstructs my vision;
  conspires to obliterate my knowing, my connection to the REAL.

Spinning, spinning, faster and faster to shake loose the weight of the material.
  To disembody the energy, to welcome back pure being.

Witnessing the material blurr into a primordial mass, lose its meaning.
  Feeling gravity dissolve, setting loose its grip on my feet.

Sensing light all round, melting material back into potential.
  Feeling again the freedom to breath, to soar, to know...

But not needing any of it.

The Name is Zoe!

'I've been trying to tell you,
  this is my name!'

'No, it's not the one my mother gave me.
  It's the one I gave myself.'

'Why?'

'Because it reflects me,
  who I am
  how I feel
  but more...'

'It reminds me of the part
  of self that I repress,
  hold back, judge...'

'It is my dancer, my singer,
  my creative spirit
  my longing to be
  inside music, art, dance,
  beauty'

'Yes, to be inside it,
  feeling it wash around me,
  feeling it lift me off my feet
  and free my spirit to fly.'

'That's Zoe.
  That's me.'

'Can you see her?
  Me?'

A quick note.
Google is making some major changes and I am UN-Tech Savy enough to not understand them!
If, perchance, these changes somehow make this blog disappear, look for me elsewhere in cyberland.  I'll build a new blog.  Only this time, I will not include the extra 'e' in my name!
Namaste!

Are You Ready? I am Waiting.

OK, I have a confession.
  I have been really pissed of late.
  I got so pissed that I shut out Spirit.

I put on my worn and tattered coat-of-armor.
  This coat-of-armor is so much a part of me
   that it has its own name,

'I will get myself through this...damn it!'

Funny I didn't feel the breeze
  through the many holes and tears
  in that age-old and thrice mended coat.

I know that it really isn't a coat-of-armor.
  It is me hiding, pushing out my chest,
  believing that I am alone in all 'this'
  and it is up to me alone to get
  myself through 'it'.

The purpose, still, feels so right.
  'How,' I wonder, 'can wanting a job
  be a bad thing?  Is it strange to want work
  that pays a living wage and medical coverage?'

Yet, all my efforts and education and experience
  bear no fruit.  And, I awaken one day to see
  that I am rummaging through totes that
  I already emptied, all to no avail.

And now, my friends, I will share
  the truth of why I haven't been writing.

I have been ashamed to admit that I am
  in this place, once again, after witnessing the
  wisdom that Spirit channels through my fingers.

I guess I hold hope that these gifts of Spirit
  would soak through my coat-of-armor
  and change forever my fallibilities.

But, I remind myself...it is a process,
  yes, a journey.  And I am on the path.

The gifts of Spirit are still here, available
  for me when I am ready to receive them.

So, Spirit asks once again and forever,
  'Are you ready?  I am waiting.'

Called Inside, Once Again

'You're looking in the wrong tote,' she said.
  Tears alight in her blue eyes,
  'You have worked so hard going through those totes.'

I know.

My fingers are sore from the search.
  I have gone through each tote,
  dug so deep into each one,
  and now realize that
  I'm going through them again.

Did I, at some point,
  put everything back into them
  without even realizing it?

The growing awareness of
  'I've been here.  I've seen this.'
  But, nevertheless, drawing forth
  that which already has proven fruitless,
  painting on it a new facade,
  and sending it out to the world
  hoping,
  always hoping,
  it will bring home
  a different response.

Tired,
  No, exhausted,
  from the search.

'It's in the blue tote.'
  'You put it in the blue tote
  and forgot about it,' she says.

Blue tote?
  What the hell is the blue tote?
  Where is it?
  I have been searching,
  sometimes frantically,
  through all my totes!

I have pulled out and examined
  absolutely every skill and piece of knowledge
  I could remembr,
  every kind of work I've done,
  every strategy I've ever devised...

Yet, somehow I missed this blue tote.

What is it, this blue tote?
  And what treasure does it hide from me?

'Are you ready to see it now?' gentle, loving eyes implore.
  'Can you close the other totes?
  'Are you willing, finally, to let go the search?'