Thursday, December 31

Set Ablaze

flying on the tips of wings
of light she's never seen
she's standing in the midst of this
amongst the grove
of unspoken bliss

she's taking flight
above the fire
above the blaze
above the mess
she came to know too well
above the life
she's finally left

now she's calling it a lesson learned
and upwards she rises
slightly broken
but unburned

Wednesday, December 30

battle wounds

just when i thought i said goodbye
just when i thought i released her
just when i checked again the wound i licked shut myself
she somehow found a way back in
but then again
she always seems to find her way back in

all we ever knew to do was walk away
all we ever knew to do was fear staying

i'm finally seeing the reality of the situation
that the truth was tucked away
beneath the cushions all along
that all i had to do was pull them off and call her bluff
or was it my own

you see
she was begging sabotage
a liberation of sorts
from her own self doubt
and i was delusionary
begging strokes of my own ablate
now
concoct that into love's torpidity
and you've awakened of a mutual checkmate

and even though i fought my way out of that dreary city
she followed me threw the fog and into the sun
perhaps she came
for closer observation
or better yet
a stone sense of self-sustetnation

yes
you see
the love was there
but fear was stronger
and thats what found its way into our hearts
stopping us
dead in our tracks
like a battle wound
of another fallen solider

Wednesday, December 16

oh portland. oh seattle

ferns calling me from the north
paths lined with lies and moss
beauty incarnate
within both
the truth prevails
and in that embodiment
begins the hail


i feel her pulse
sometimes still
in the call of the wild
while on that moss lined hill

once fertile
now distant lands
a part of this past
comes undone
found its way to completion

a time beyond
and without a doubt
it was full of changes
all along

wondering whats to come
as i begin this new journey
in the dry desert land of the enchanted forest

what'll come
who'll be
where i'll go
i guess we'll see

for now
i'll revel
in the beauty
of the star dust that remains

Sunday, December 13

a night spent with seattle

vomitacious
acid pouring down this throat
can't breath
no breath
funny.... kinda
feeling the little breath there is ... hardly
to these collar bones

lava

Pele resting on this chest
in these ribs
erupting
engaged
slightly enraged
by the waring lies that were waged

vice grips dancing on this brain
burns
clouds laced with that sulfur feeling
in this gut
tasting the dust of an extinguished flame
in the very back
of the back
of this devastated heart

Tuesday, December 8

a chemistry inspired poem

something i found while saying goodbye to Portland. dated 11/25/07

we're conformations
of best friends
and lovers
and when we shift
i'm left to question
those rotations
which is next
and where we're left

usually i just wonder
and when i think i've got it figured out
mapped up
pinned down
their up again
with those shifty ways

i'm getting exhausted
from those movements
i just want to rest
embrace the silence
the peace
feel some harmony
amongst the mess

Monday, November 30

omens of change


found a decapitated crow
in my path
on the road
near the curb
the other day

noticed my own state reflected back
as we walked past

stopped to pick up crow
find crow a proper resting place

wondered what the message was
what kind of omen
comes in the shape of a decapitated crow?

yet
from where i am now
i see it all laid out before me
wisdom
detached from the mind
death
beyond goodbyes
creation
shape-shifting
how this keeper of sacred law died
or answers as to why
no past
no present
no future
simultaneous continuation
unspoken actualities
of all those possibilities
to take flight
merging the dark and light

brought the messenger to a final resting place
found some rich, fertile cedar soil
and stared into deaths face
released something
that seemed a bit distant at the time
but is with with me now
as i sift through the signs

so goodbye for now
my crow friend
rest well
take flight into the night
into the darkness of creation
birthing a whole new journey
of inexhaustible transformation

Sunday, November 29

building blocks

stumbled upon those rocks
that were laid in the dark of the night
on a path that seemed smooth

made me reconsider the plan

cause from
where i now stand
i've got better understanding
of it all


impermanence is real
change is a staple
and life
brings us to our building blocks
if we allow ourselves to feel

facing our shadow, saying goodbye

Isis keeps appearing
she's got secrets to unlock
past life memories to unfurl
i can kinda see it through the clouds
all strewn about now

the connection we shared
didn't define us
or our past
it transcended the boundaries
we created
beyond space
or time
beyond perceived notions
of our conceptual reality
beyond it all of our black hole

and out of unseen depths
a holographic image arose
cause regardless of it all now
we're still part of the whole

and i'd say it was fun
but it mostly broke my heart

yet down in the lush fertile forest
i still found the clues
so perhaps it ain't time
perhaps it was never mine
perhaps the passersby were startled by the star dust
settling off so fine




what ever happened to the concrete line
we drew in the sand?
did it get covered by the lies
this miraculous time?
or was it there all along?
what truth?
what lies?

i can tell
your presence was stolen by the booze
it wasn't you
it just simply wasn't you

so i forgive you
but i won't forget

i'm moving out now
of this lush fertile forest
going to find the star dust of mine
high up in the wide open deep desert sky
that was planted in that blink of an eye

goodbye seattle. i release you:
karmically
emotionally
bodily
mentally
i release you and wish you well
to listen to your guts
to find your truths
to emerge from the depths
i release you

Saturday, November 28

notes full of infidelity and lies

the weight of their lies
is stacking upon her now
she's fallen
after unexpectedly smacking into them

and in the midst of their stories
she feels broken
again




but like the phoenix she is
she will rise
yes
she will rise again

Three years in that city

Its a slightly heartbreaking goodbye
as I pass over those city lights
on this late autumn night

I want to cry
but I can't
I suppose the sadness seems superimposed
as if its how I should feel

I gave three years to this city of roses
this city of lights
unearthed some of my deepest truths
even through the lies
cause sometimes lovers and friendships
betray
and even the grayest of days
can't cover that truth

spent three years in this city
it took all I had
I gave all I could
and was brought to my edge




now
propelled to the south
deeper into the layers of what
i'm about to find out

Wednesday, November 25

Line 72- Killingsworth/82nd


This world is too harsh
unfair
unjust
rooted in oppression
poverty is the common denominator
and fear is the reserve

what eye contact is made
is dropped in a flash
snippets of this story
is past
way past

power lines prevalent above the homes of poverty's kin
pollution prevails
demoralized
this kills

a friendship mistook
by a smile
the possibility of connection
brazed in denial

this line ends with a disabled man
in his wheelchair
sitting on a meridian
anticipating help
in the cold northwest winter rain
watching the distracted traffic whiz by
there's no room
for even a smile

Friday, November 20

Goddess' above, Goddess' below

staying close to those depths
of Yemanja's ocean blue
under a new moon sky
she finds the truth 

stars fuel her wonder
and she begins to fly
slowly her leap of faith
became a deeper sense of origen
and immersed in the love
was aine

and now she stands
on firm ground
watching the goddess'
rise up from all around

and even though
the sirens scream
she sits in stillness
focused on that internal beam

Monday, November 16

Breaking fractically

What becomes of those place you leave?
of saying goodbye
with no intention to return?



Friday, November 13

Wonderment before the dawn


My mind is holding onto
those times we screamed and yelled
those times I'd wake up
and find myself in hell

three in the morning
and there I was
again
walking alone through those drenched streets


thinking now
it appears that I should have kept on
years ago
towards that cloudy morning sky
cause even the clouds change
even the sun will rise

and sometimes I still feel so bitter
that it takes me by surprise

I mean
I know its was childish
we acted as if we were the demise
as if we had to stay

yet still
every-time I think of her
I see myself reflected back

she'd be getting messed up
again
drunk
again

those were the times she'd throw stones at my wonderment
and I would be left
alone
with my disbelief
shattering any hopes for less grief
or babies
or bliss




Wednesday, November 11

an abundance of greed

signaling the release of something gone awry
the army of the free world's liberation
is cultivating a serious mass delusion
thru the riot gear i still it
thru the rubber bullets i still know
the listlessness of the soldiers
speaks of the place these young people have woken up to
and now
i'm hearing reports come in
something about a covert operation in Pakistan
what happened in Iraq
Afghanistan
Palestine
El Salvador
their trying to conquer the world
as they sweep our media under the carpets
the cheney's and rumsfield's and obama's are not far apart
in the game for global dominance


these criminals of war are comparably abundant
as the polar bears without a home
or the g-20 riot gear in Philly
or the tops of mountains being removed for coal
or the sacred sites of indigenous Americans
being desecrated with the IAEA lies and filth






Tuesday, November 10

Ocean desert rendezvous

Sitting in the forested park
watching playful punk kids perform poetry
drunk
doesn't quite compare to
sitting
at the edge of mommas dry land
contemplating my descent down
into the moist depths of my own unknown darkness

It all goes by so fast

Now
as I sit here
watching these playful punk kids perform poetry in a park
in the high desert of Santa Fe
I'm reminded of the stark impermanence of it all
today

Monday, November 9

Sunsets of Grace






Enshrouded by the rapture
Caught in the blaze of the setting sun
I cry
in the midst of this New Mexican sky

Friday, November 6

Prisms of Light



So this going inwards seems to be all that I've asked for, all that I need. Deeply penetrating truths emerge and out I come from from what was perceived as an abyss into the most glorious canyons at sunrise. And at worst, I see parts of myself strewn about, laid out before me. They don't seem to connect, yet remain recognizably mine. All those years of questioning seem counterintuitive to this process. But when flashlights of the moonshine glory sets in, in as in inwardly, I see all I've been missing, all I've become. All I've ignored. All I've run from. Yes, here in this place I see pure form. Minus the thoughts, feelings, perceptions, the norms. I have a sense of returning home. The embodiment of Vesta fills me to my brim. A sense of completion takes hold and all that is emerges from the caverns of this mindbody. There I sit, in zazen, facing an adobe wall. Hints of light reflecting the inherent fallacies I've created. And as a prism redirects and transform light, so too does this.

Friday, October 30

Vietnam & The United States of America: Resistance

Pulling up something I published years ago while in Vietnam 

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

So I have physically left Vietnam now, but the experiances and images will never leave me. I feel such a deep connection to the people and land there. I experianced much more than I wrote about and I feel a saddness for not conveying my emotions while they were raw. If I had to sum up my trip to Vietnam in one word I think it would be revelational. Everything about Vietnam was vastly different than what my white bread US of A American lifestyle has taught me. I was untaught many things in the process. The people of that land have influenced me in ways I am yet to fully comprehend. The land feels incredibly sacred to me, possibly becasue of the (over) 3 million Vietnamese people who have lost their lives on that soil while fighting for their independance from colonial/imperial rule. The legacy of war was something I was mainly intrested in learning more about when departing the States on May 15th, 2006. But now (one month later) that I have been there I can see that Vietnam is more than a country torn apart by centuries of war and foregin control/ownership. What I seen was a resiliant, brialliant and compassionate people who have not only learned how to defend their land but also how to live with their land. The Vietnamese are survivors and even though their government is about the enter the WTO, I think the people will continue to strive towards independance. I spoke with some elders and some youth and got the same impression: "we won't be colonized for much longer." I am inspiried by their strength and courage and can only hope that mentality continues to find its way into the rest of the world. Several times I was told "America #1" by locals (in the Saigon and Hue, not Hanoi) and I would respond "it's a lie..." But now I see what they mean. They are talking about the myth of America...the myth that America is free and that all "all men are created equal." They don't see the rampant racism, sexism, homophobia, classism, ect., and how could they when all the US exports is the idea of our moral superiority slapped between the well disguised bread of imperalism. I am not saying that these same things don't exist here as well (the womyn want to be as white and thin as possible and I was told that "it's okay to be gay just as long as their kids are straight...") but it's not so obvious...yet. There really is no seperation between the classes, all live together. There might be a super wealthy foreigner living right across the street from the boat people. I know that every nation has their problems, but like Howard Zinn says, when a country like the US declears itself a democracy and then runs off to kill thousands of innocent (and maybe even guilty) people for oil, or when 1 out of every 5 children in our "democracy" are born into poverty, or when there are more then 40 countries that have better records on infant mortality rates (including Cuba) or when we lead the world with the highst incarceration rate (more then 2 million), I don't belive that is a democracy. When I was told "America #1" these are the kinds of things I thought about when I responded "it's a lie..." and to me it is. We have a great constitution, but we don't follow it. Funny how Ho Chi Minh adapted our national anthem after the war was won... I think one of the biggest lesson's this trip has taught me is that there is no absoultes (which people have been telling me for ages). There really is no perfect nation, and yes, even in the US there are great things (like the fact that won't be hung for writing this...but who knows really, things are always changing!) But I do still think war is the ultimate failure of progress. War is brutal and I have now seen it from a first world's perspective (the people suffer) and a third world's perpective (the people suffer), the one thing we have in common: suffering. Washington, not the people of the US, spends our money on mendacity and murder and theft and rape and... Hanoi spends it's money on trying to become just like America...Let's hope that the people of Vietnam will stop it before it happens and take back their land from foreign compaines like Cannon, Nike and North Face. I can only hope for us in America to do the same. The real power does not lie in obsequiousness but rather in resistance to the power machine. 
Peace out my fellow global citizens...

Thursday, October 29

News from expensive phone booths


Those nights in Buffalo were a dream. After driving 10 hours to 49 Ashland Ave, she'd be on her way to work. Yet, always she found time, one more time, to make love with me before she left. That was then. The Northpark theater was old, creaky. I would be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about tipping the velvet behind that antiquated, thin screen. It was a re-run of Devotion by Tracy Chapman that kept me company when she left. The nights were buffalo winter cold and lonely. I was attached and young and scared and refused to say goodbye to my ideas of sage colored houses with lavender trim and wild flower gardens in the front. It was all there. All planned, at 19 I had it all figured out. She was mine and I was hers. That was, until he came in. That seemed like the destroyer on the ocean, lining myself with doubt and fear and disbelief. I ran away...all the way to the other side of Pacific. One day I woke up and found myself sitting at a stop light in Chiang Mai. It was under that new moon sky that I remember looking up at the stars while on pause on that crimson red, dilapidated motorbike. I was on my way to get, yet another calling card, to call yet again, you my dear...yes you my dear. Rejection kept me in that place where I'd call and call and call until she answered. But then there was that time that she did finally answer and I got the worst news in 7 years...We were done. And I could hear him breathing next to her.

Started my moon time today. Made me wonder when the last time was that we synchronized. Even then, it seemed like it'd been years.

Tuesday, October 27

Blessings from the Heavens

Woke up to three inches blanketing my world here in the high desert
The pre-dawn Juniper and Utah Pines casting a glowing bluish hue
Staring outside through the one way viewing bamboo blinds
from inside the zendo
in this hushed morning
surrounded by silence
I feel wholly alive

Northwest Rain

if enlightenment is a perpetual state
what then of impermanence?

hearing voices say
to challenge in the worst of ways
you'd sit for the best to arise

taking steps to come undone
she wonders
what next on this unpaved road

then
foots hit pavement
and she's wishing for clay
yet remaining open to what is

the brightness of this autumn day
shadows her internal rain

she starts again
afresh
anew
like moss in the Northwest
for Samhain

Tuesday, October 20

Black Electric Clocks on Taupe Wooden Bureaus

Watching the red numbers change
first from  the far right
as they slowly begin to move left

here I am again
and although it does not always create such momentarily languishing
the movement is still subtle

kinda like mine

we don't talk anymore
and I'm okay with that
its her I think about more anyway
he was a sweet, sweet lover
tasty even
but she
well she was my partner

yet somehow
even through her denial
she agreed. And somehow I deluded.

like now
difference presently
I'm finally realizing this fallacy of time inherent therein

Wednesday, October 7

Vengeful E-Room Memories

the silence is meant to disrupt
she's back from the past
with a vengeance not unlike before

i see her actions speaking clearly
and even though i thought i had surpassed that
i still think of her stints on the dance floor









Thursday, October 1

Life at 9,400 feet and higher


Hiked a granite & quartz mountain to its peak at 12,600 feet, got lost in the dark on the way down in a thick forest for many hours, thanked a compass, got to spend time with an extraordinary lady, thought a lot about my father and what it must have been like in Vietnam, lived off the grid, camped with an aspen forest, slept in a pyramid house with more windows than walls, mudded a hermitage and understood what the good life look like

Wednesday, September 16

fragments & dust

Something I wrote back in September that i feel called to resurrect...it helps me to re-read this kind of stuff...allowing me to see where I've come from...


what was it about the ebb and flow we couldn't seem to unify into one motionless whole
you masted the ebb
and somehow, i mustered up the means of a flow
your low tide waning
my stream running like that of the santa fe river
in july

that reminds me
wasn't it you that said i would be the one to saunter off
but here i am
wondering where you are
and after all this time
still
no response from you

three unforgettable winters together
first it was captivating
consumed me practically to digestion
second was unrequited
fueled by my unresolved assumptions
third was
well
that was the one that disintegrated us
expired us into fragments & dust
the one when we lived in the sage colored shed
behind the periwinkle house with gray trim on madison street

i remember laying in your strong arms watching the feathery fringed snow pile up outside on the deck through the slightly crooked window you carved into the wall
there we were
keeping one another warm with our shared listlessness, despondency and routine allegiance to one another
a job would have made things less languid
direction or purpose would have brought home a sense of inspiration

i wonder if your searching still
i know i am

the antagonism was being reflected back onto each of us
and even though "love filled this room"
we embraced bitterness as a way to release our melancholy
we disposed our internal torment onto each other
like excess fragments of water flying off a hot iron

we were just on the verge of making it
or so i deluded

when february hit
those mustard yellow walls and heliotrope purple linens enshrouded me in comfort
when i arrived there was heat
and even a toilet and kitchen to use
this became the place i took refuge in

oh Seattle
remember those cedar tree nights
sitting under the infamous cloudy Portland sky

i was trying to penetrate us
my fear
myself
but rather
i returned to my familiar pattern
there i sat
protecting my burned, parched heart regardless of the dank, dewey earth we reflected upon
what a contradiction we were
what a pair
i had the wisdom of her ancient heart to lean against
yet my own
deeply brutalized
was stewing in a container of anguish

i wanted so authentically
to let past recollection go
but rather engaged equivocally
in doing all i knew how to do
watching our percolating delusions splatter, spurt, squirt over the sides
of our ever growing pot of apprehension
i became numb to my affliction
my own projected callousness

that was the winter the frigidness painstakingly invaded my heart
as i became as antarctic as snow people do
in the middle of a monsoon winter
i hadn't a clue

shut down
taking up residence in my own subconscious mind
i refused to meet half way
to be the team player i so longed for

i wonder
how will i ever mend this pierced heart?


Saturday, September 5

manifestations of the mind


streams of thought flow through me like time in space
i sit on my black zafu and stare at the wall with disbelief
is this really me?
am I really here?

the sky outside is reflective of my minds desired manifestation
clear, undiluted, pure
there she is, with all her glory
all her might
simply existing
with all the vastness of the universes to support her

as i sit here on my zafu
i wonder
how long can it take to get to that space
way up there
deep into her expressed calm?
past the clouds of a foggy san francisco morning
the storms of the katrina
through the black holes of doubt and insecurity

brush stokes of impermanence stain my minds eye
wind is all i hear
taste
feel
this existence is real
or is reality truly without boundaries?
is she really where she says she is?
is he who he thinks he is?

what is it with this place we call me
this place deep within ourselves
yourself
myself

what are you reflecting?
what do you taste?
what do you dream?
where do you journey?

save it
protect it
your mind that is

the boundaries are getting blurry now
the cataracts are closing in
take off your glasses
see yourself in the world
as you truly are




Friday, August 28

sesshin


its like one of those full moon nights
where you stare into your own shadow
until the illuminating sun arises
and when you slowly walk away
after an exhausting deliberation
all you know as truth is your own delusion

Friday, August 21

saying goodbye

its the same feeling i get when i see two airplanes heading in opposite
directions in the new moon sky of new mexico's star filled brilliance


Wednesday, August 19

clouds of truth


as the sound of the wind blows though my mind
it makes me feel my oneness with her essence
connected. whole. complete

then that voice takes flight
on the next wind out
its as if i never ever existed
to me
to her
or him
what is it about him that seems to become younger and younger every-time i look at his photograph?
perhaps it is me that is growing older

yes
perhaps i am

the meaning in life is taking on a new meaning
i look at what i'd be doing
if i were not here
if i were there
and i see myself smiling
now
even if i am feeling my walls collapse all around me
yet, this truth:
suffocating in the most liberating way

living life with meaning
is all there is to do
living life without
is no meaning at all

there are those blissful days that i lay and stare at the vastness
of her radiance
her wide open, unafraid blue
its there i see myself
in that heart shape
that stands so firm in her conviction of perserverance
yes its there
that i see myself
in love
in truth
in belief
with myself

yes, i see myself

Saturday, August 15

on losing my mind

its like time stops
and i keep falling
like alice
like myself

there i am sitting on a zafu
again
there i am
trying to be free
trying to find myself
again
what self?
perhaps the problem is in the search

here i am
this is me
rebelling
again
giving my mind space for expression with this medium

so goes it
i suppose

welcome to the dharma...

Wednesday, August 12

What I'm Not Thinking About...

I'm not thinking of lights or having sex. What the facial expressions are of those behind me. If those flies have been the kitchen today. What the Neurobiology Of We conference would be like if We were all naked. If mud was involved. What the wind is saying outside. Where Tara is right at this peculiar moment. How small my hands are compared to Arne's. What the Lahu womyn are doing today. Markets in Thailand. My skeletal system. I'm not thinking about the potential relationship my mother and I could have, if only...

The gyres full of plastic. The war zones of Detroit, Oakland, Philly. Tenaciousness. I'm not thinking about my fear of being hacked up while camping. Or brother Joey's accord. What it felt like to wear a dress. Dreams last night. Sex. I'm not thinking about sex. Or homeland security. Or abortion. Ice skating. I'm not thinking about my baby toes or my torn tendon. I'm not thinking about Obama's day. Or his schedule. Or his true nature. I'm not thinking about Kombucha. Grass blowing at the Catholic Church on Salmon and 41st. Julia. I'm not thinking about Nichole or taking her up the highest point in Portland. Arne. I'm not thinking about patriarchy. Rape culture. Male/female binary. How much I admire Natalie and Roshi's work. How much I'd like to feel another planet under my feet, or the moon.

I'm not thinking about racism. New Orleans. New York. Buffalo. I'm not thinking about witch camp. Zafu's. Being naked next to a cis-gendered man. I'm not thinking about my mother. Or the temple outside this zendo. Wafa. Palestine. I'm not thinking about rubbish, plastic, waste. Accumulating more and more shit. I'm not thinking about cutting hair. People's smells. Being short. Being on edge. Women's centers. I'm not thinking about what I'll do tonight. Who I'll write next. How I'll sleep or when I'll next shower...

Wednesday, August 5

we are rising



that flight she took
brought her to places she's only dreamed
now she's realizing the impact of claiming the phoenix
its powerful name invokes deep potential
for quantum shifts in consciousness
life
love
being

these days
she's simply leaning to be
yet still
she's dancing in all those places she coming to know within

truth be told
she is a phoenix
and she's rising up
yet even looking down
she's still beholding all the glory
all the pain
the lies
suffering
jealously
shiftiness
all the insecurity
and doubt

all that she's left behind
she's grateful for
thankful to those who loved
to those who did not
thankful to those who compromised
to those who did not
thankful to those who betrayed
and all those who feared

for in each of you is me
and in me
is each of you

we are one
and together
we are rising

Tuesday, August 4

goodbye seattle

dripping wax
tori amos
romance
clothes strewn from bed to bath
closets
"you will be loved"
notes on doors
dicks boiling in pots on stoves
fists, fingers, come...yum
hide-a-way

semore
afternoons under blankets at tabor
andrew bird
skateboarding towards the sunrise
cedar trees
time clock ticking away...
welcoming the blue light of dawn
studying at cafe's
train
sex
train
budding love
fear there in
snow falling on doug firs
babies
octopus
true love

the redirection of her ego

been redirecting that energy
writing letters to him every day
words his eyes will never read
images his senses will never engage

its clearly all about my ego you see
thats why i'm here right?
i've come to learn to be more open

to allow those to love me

but wait, no
no
no
no, no no
your here to love yourself
become more open, sure
but grow indeed my dear
develop into a deeply rooted madrone

but that shadow
is blocking my heart
you can't see it
cause its hiding behind my ego

but that dark dark shadow of your mind
its evolving
to create a space for love
in time

in time
this is the key
in time

but my soul is onto their heart tearing motives

but perhaps you've got it all wrong
from past pains
ego-filled
false ideas
and love is love is love is...

whatever
i must to go confront my ego now
zazen is my only reprieve these days
from that place my ego likes to revel in

Sunday, August 2

When wisdom, love and presence filled me


Just got back from camping with my dear friend Steph. She is so spirited. We had a most amazing time. We went camping in this incredibly remote place-it was twenty miles from a tiny town and another 10 miles off road. The place we found ourselves at was on the Eddy River in Abiquiu, NM. The river snakes and turns a whole bunch. We had the entire place, the whole world it felt like, to ourselves. I've never slept under the wide open sky, but we did. The sky was filled so much with stars that it was almost an effort to find the blue in the sky. I've never seen so many shooting stars-they just kept chasing one another across the midnight blue sky. Wow.

Around 2 AM, a massive bird came to visit. She flew in with the wind and perched herself on top the closest tree to us. She visited for about 2o minutes and with the next breath of wind, her shadowed self took flight.

Momma moon is waxing, past half full (much like my life these days). The moonshine illuminated the night sky so intensely, that it was not until she was below the horizon that the milky way presented themselves. It was stunning.

When we first arrived, it was so remote that we could totally and completely be free & naked. There were us, the trees, her pups and momma Earth. We were able to cover our bodies with mud, bake in father suns rays and rinse in the red-flowing river. So special, so healing.

At one point we stumbled into this large, old, beautiful, wise grandmother tree. She brought such healing sounds out of me. The sounds began in my base chakra and worked up towards my crown. Each sound was completely different from the following. They began very basey. Like roots. Like Earth. It was so powerful, and I still feel as if that large, old, beautiful wise grandmother tree helped show me the way to vibrational healing. Her essence embraced us, held us there and provided a space for deep soul healing...

Saturday, August 1

Blessed Are Friends














never has she realized the potency in friendship
until her attachment to Relationships ended
its ripe with love
and care
there are no need for walls
no protection to seek
she can be free
flying high in the sky
free
to be happy
content
unafraid of what the other may think

there is a beauty in the boundlessness of friendship
a simplicity in that connection
one that she is so glad to finally know

Sunday, July 26

From "possessing the secret of joy"


"...she was like a fleshy, succulent fruit; and when i was not with her i dreamed of the time i would next lie on my belly between her legs, my cheeks caressed by the gentle rhythms of her thighs. my tongue bringing us no babies, and to both of us delight..."

Saturday, July 25

confronting the dragon
















i'm learning a lot about fear these days. in this process, i am beginning to realize that all those places i cling to, those places that make me feel the need to call for someone or something to protect me...those places are at my edge.

i'm realizing that all these people, places, events, feelings, thoughts that make me squirm, want to scream, cry, run away from, deny - are actually my biggest teachers.

i wonder what would happen if i just stared into the face of my biggest fears, insecurities, problems and walked boldly toward them?

i'm not sure i have the answer, but i do think that it will bring me to new territory from which i can be more fully human.

i want to love without fear
i want to be myself without fear
i want to love all those i encounter without fear
i want to cross that bridge
i want to fully live...



Friday, July 24

culmination of all the years

she often thinks about where she's come
where she's going
noting all those years of troubled times
seem to be unfolding her tightly woven layers
she's sneaking around
pretending not to care
but under all those layers
are some deep, penetrating tears

Wednesday, July 22

self-reflection



i fare the well goodbye: an ode to my familiar





























the goodbye left a mark somewhere deep
something about letters and mail just don't do it justice

they knew their paths were splitting
they knew they were meant to go much sooner
but they held on
refused to move
sitting down together like rebellious five year olds

they clung to one another
with the rooted fear of life unfolding before them
yet all along they knew
it must begin

so onwards my familiar
to those paths
calling us deeper into ourselves

as we get up
i say to both you and i:

keep faith in the process
be true to yourself
look in all directions
and follow the path that appears...

Tuesday, July 21

Joy


A story/metaphor from a book I am reading:

There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs, and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of the cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds onto the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a patch of grass. She looks down, she looks up. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly....

Monday, July 20

weaving a web of thought

intention: shedding layers
its what she does best these days
saying goodbye to the old
welcoming the new



Blessed suns



Its almost as if she's swirling, whirling, dancing in the clouds. Admiring those pastel colors change in mere minutes under the directive of the setting sun. Its astounding really. Each direction is sacred with emotion, these desert clouds show us how to be real. How to be one, complete with your true emotional body. Feelings of love fill her - in the morning she awakens with such bliss she is almost unfamiliar with herself. When, she wonders, have I felt this way before? When have I looked up and shed a tear at the awe of the world she is encompassed in. Magical does not describe the land, serene seems too indifferent. Life is overflowing, yes, life in this blessed dessert, brings her to our Earth Mother in prostration.

Blessed be, so mote it be...

Sunday, July 19

Seasoned fruitfulness


somewhere in the garden of her heart
is a place full of belief and truth
her truth seeks divine guidance
and once in a great while
she is able to harvest the fruits of such a season

Saturday, July 18

Crushed out, blissed out

Its one of those days when you are shouted awake with only enough time to pull on some pants to run to the zendo...

While sitting today, she realized her mind was on quite the vision quest. Visions of mouths on lips, parting ever so slowly the skin that protects the most delicate and encompassing part of of her body. While sitting there, she knew she was supposed to saying "okay, here a a thought, and I release you" and get back to mindfulness, genuine zen style meditation*.

However, it was as vivid as when she was there, in that past time and space of pure bliss. Naturally, she did not want to release, but rather indulge those images
feelings
ideas

Well as one would guess, she walked out of that zendo that day, feeling like a guilty grrl. Aghhh, am I even going to get this right, she wondered...

* Apparently, if you are able to release all thoughts that find their way into your active mind, you come to place that is beyond power...

Friday, July 17

One of my many blessings today

gratitude grows in dirt...

Its true, she just looked out her window into the sun filled day and seen two galloping dears heading towards the zendo... but that's just a side note, a reflection of what exists in this time and space...deers and zendo's.

But by golly gee the smells here are unlike any other. Fragrant lavender and aromatic sage greet her as she walks to and from the garden. Playing in dirt all day allows one to regain that child like excitement of finding bugs in strange places, of looking up briefly to analyze what animal, shape, or being is looking down upon us from those oh so perfectly sculpted clouds. Its quite lovely, in fact she was brought to tears when she realized the gift she's been given...shes grateful, oh so grateful.