I see in myself an inclination to avoid responsibility. But I want to be the kind of person who runs to, not from, these. Runs. I'll never accomplish my Aim if I keep moving in its opposite direction.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
born to nun
For a long time now I've held the belief that continuing to pursue my Aim in any real way requires a life of abstinence from romantic love and the long-term company of another. Sometimes I believe it is because I am unsuitable, sometimes I believe it's because of a lack of suitable partners. I'm not sure it really matters which, probably neither is the case. And why I decided this would be my sacrifice, I'm still not sure. But sometimes I wish I would just let it go.
Monday, March 25, 2013
On this day I tangoed. You must really love something to endure dancing not one, but three songs each with Mr. Sweaty-Shakes, Dances-So-Close-I-Can-Taste-His-Cologne AND Kama-Sutra Man. I'm not at all sure on this night I fully embraced the concept of "suffering cheerfully", but at least I know where I can go to practice it - along with my back ochos and molinete.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Saturday, March 23, 2013
the fool
On this day I renewed my wish to keep an open heart in the face of things shifting and uncertain. If I stay present with myself and with others, if I trust what I've learned and who I am, things tend to work out. If, in the course of following my heart, I appear foolish to others, this is a consequence I am ready to accept. Today.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
reaching out
Yesterday I practiced guitar in a new room. At first I only saw how the light fell on everything, how beautifully and gently it brought the things around me to life. Then my attention wandered outside to the birds and the stirrings of a Sunday afternoon in the neighborhood. I realized that the sound from my guitar can be like light too, touching everything. And through it, the fingers of my attention, like appendages, reach out beyond me. How playing need not displace a single bird song or shift a ray of sunshine. That music can go wandering, barefoot, from the heart without bending a leaf or snapping a branch underfoot. How full and grateful this makes me feel.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
I almost left you
last night
without reason.
You would have
come out and
found me gone.
Light touches all
manner of flesh
indiscriminate
and even,
illuminated
for a moment
by love.
without reason.
You would have
come out and
found me gone.
Light touches all
manner of flesh
indiscriminate
and even,
illuminated
for a moment
by love.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
singlular
For every man I've ever truly loved there is a corresponding part of me that could almost separate itself from the whole in order to make him happy.
Except I can't. And as long as I'm living in this same world which requires that I be singular, that I be a whole and even more than that - a more whole-er whole than I thought possible - there's no room for splitting off and other worlds, only this one. It's all I have. And I'm so, so sorry. Can I ever stop being sorry? And will anyone ever forgive me for not being enough?
Except I can't. And as long as I'm living in this same world which requires that I be singular, that I be a whole and even more than that - a more whole-er whole than I thought possible - there's no room for splitting off and other worlds, only this one. It's all I have. And I'm so, so sorry. Can I ever stop being sorry? And will anyone ever forgive me for not being enough?
Monday, March 11, 2013
tango - men and women
Tension holds the dancers in place. Intention and direction get them moving - one active, one receptive, but both equally empowered. Music guides the way.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Friday, March 8, 2013
delirium tremens
To "pick your own poison" usually refers to choice of alcohol. I would take this a bit further and assert we literally pick that which poisons us mentally, emotionally and physically. Most of our problems do not land arbitrarily on us like some cosmic roulette wheel, but are stepped into again and again as a natural result of us following our already well-established tastes, habits, and personal histories. The path of least resistance is as inviting and familiar as a comfy couch, but even harder to get out of.
Today I encountered one of these. Why has so-and-so decided not to like me? How unjust. Who do they think they are? Especially when they're the jerk? What a hypocrite, etc. Ok, so my feelings got hurt. Perhaps there's no way around that. But, the occasion granted me an unusual opportunity not only to observe myself reacting to a strong emotional stimulus, but to step outside of it and see the whole thing for what it is - one big energy leak. The fact of the matter is my friendship with so-and-so, in its best moments, still constituted a drip drip drip of energy ultimately never used in support of my Aim.
We give power to things. We give things power over us. We do this to ourselves. No one else. I could choose to give so-and-so the power to create negativity in my life or I could take responsibility for myself. Strange and amazing that such an uncomfortable turn of events has resulted in one of the most important insights I've had about my own personal interference with the work to date. This, practically gift-wrapped with a solution to the problem. I am thankful for this. Don't get me wrong, I hope the situation gets rectified, and soon, but there's no longer any bite in it. I've sobered up. I remember who I am.
Today I encountered one of these. Why has so-and-so decided not to like me? How unjust. Who do they think they are? Especially when they're the jerk? What a hypocrite, etc. Ok, so my feelings got hurt. Perhaps there's no way around that. But, the occasion granted me an unusual opportunity not only to observe myself reacting to a strong emotional stimulus, but to step outside of it and see the whole thing for what it is - one big energy leak. The fact of the matter is my friendship with so-and-so, in its best moments, still constituted a drip drip drip of energy ultimately never used in support of my Aim.
We give power to things. We give things power over us. We do this to ourselves. No one else. I could choose to give so-and-so the power to create negativity in my life or I could take responsibility for myself. Strange and amazing that such an uncomfortable turn of events has resulted in one of the most important insights I've had about my own personal interference with the work to date. This, practically gift-wrapped with a solution to the problem. I am thankful for this. Don't get me wrong, I hope the situation gets rectified, and soon, but there's no longer any bite in it. I've sobered up. I remember who I am.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Words are holes.
Once we think we know something
we fall into them.
I
I am
I am this or that.
There's no telling
what will come out of you next.
Mouth like a wound
never closing long enough to heal.
Fill it with silence.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
from a minus to a plus
Today my guitar practice served as a reminder as to why discipline is so important: You hold it in place when you are able. When you're not able, it holds you. I watched as it pulled me through a hormonally-charged, two-day-long negative mood in a way nothing else could. Afterwards I felt a surge of creative energy and was able to channel it into finishing an old drawing. A minus became a plus.
I have, however, been a little shocked at how resistant I am to my new practice regime (I've been taking lessons with Curt) when, after 10 minutes part of me was ready to give up - and not even the bit I was struggling with but the whole of Eye of the Needle. I suspect this a good sign. The 20-30 minute practices I had been doing on my own, aside from being insufficient, were stale. New challenges wake you up a little. Yay for new challenges.
As a side note, the need for a new approach/commitment to the guitar became apparent to me in Mexico this past February when music visited and, as beautiful as it was, left me painfully aware of how little I deserved it. So the question was raised - can I turn what is now a wish to connect with music into will?
Strange that only moments after having journaled that very question I was invited to join the staff/kitchen team circle for a silent meeting with guitars. These are much better players than I. Sucking already and tired to boot, I didn't feel up to it. Walking back to my room a chance run-in with Curt reminded me of what I had written and how missing the meeting did not support my connection with music as an Aim. Leaving him I literally ran to get my guitar. The meeting was as painful as I expected it to be, but there was a moment of trust and glimpsed potentiality that continues to inspire me. How easily I could have missed it in favor of comfort and sleep.
I have, however, been a little shocked at how resistant I am to my new practice regime (I've been taking lessons with Curt) when, after 10 minutes part of me was ready to give up - and not even the bit I was struggling with but the whole of Eye of the Needle. I suspect this a good sign. The 20-30 minute practices I had been doing on my own, aside from being insufficient, were stale. New challenges wake you up a little. Yay for new challenges.
As a side note, the need for a new approach/commitment to the guitar became apparent to me in Mexico this past February when music visited and, as beautiful as it was, left me painfully aware of how little I deserved it. So the question was raised - can I turn what is now a wish to connect with music into will?
Strange that only moments after having journaled that very question I was invited to join the staff/kitchen team circle for a silent meeting with guitars. These are much better players than I. Sucking already and tired to boot, I didn't feel up to it. Walking back to my room a chance run-in with Curt reminded me of what I had written and how missing the meeting did not support my connection with music as an Aim. Leaving him I literally ran to get my guitar. The meeting was as painful as I expected it to be, but there was a moment of trust and glimpsed potentiality that continues to inspire me. How easily I could have missed it in favor of comfort and sleep.
Monday, March 4, 2013
underwater
I haven't been open with you lately. I keep expecting myself to resurface here naturally, for air, but it hasn't happened. I'm slow and secretive these days. I've been keeping my feelings safe from the mothering sun, from the heat of exposure. They've taken refuge in cool blues. Vague, moving, underwater shapes I can't quite frame or articulate. Hopefully my latest commitment (to writing) will begin to draw them out.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
motorcycle diaries
I went out for a ride with a friend the night before last. It was already a tad late, but I like L.A. best when the city is just settling down - the last tango dancers in a studio on Washington have the floor to themselves, the lights in a fast-food restaurant flicker off while we wait at a red light (one worker, backlit by the fluorescent glow of the kitchen, remains sweeping up). Wood burning in a fireplace somewhere spices the air. Farther down, we pass a 24-hour Winchell's and are tempted by the almost-irresistible waft of freshly baked doughnuts. I kid myself I can feel the warmth of the ovens, but it's more likely the road.
There is something undeniably romantic about motorcycles. Most people talk as though it's purely sexual. I know my friend likes the feel me on his bike, the way my legs squeeze when he hits the brakes and the comfort of my arms around his waist. I'm not naive, but something transcends all this when we're flying down the highway. My friend and I are simple in these moments; simple people with simple needs. We've both been single long enough even these few small comforts seem to really mean something.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
little lives 3
About a week ago some men came and chopped off all the beautiful limbs of the maple tree in my front yard just before its five-fingered leaves would have turned red, then gold and carpeted our walkway. I complained. When another set of men showed up the very next day and spread manure around I was equally unhappy. The odor was nothing short of an olfactory assault and lasted for days. This was insult to injury. The cold-wets moved in shortly after, infecting the house with a chill, with general sogginess and misery.
Returning home last night I was stopped in my tracks by the sudden appearance of grass in the once-bare dirt patch beneath our stubby tree. Seeds had sprouted there as if by magic, coming up in tender shoots, every spear it's own small miracle. Some impulses you just have to give yourself to, accept the invitation as if it were a blessing. I got down on my haunches and, like a child, ran my palm across the top of this glistening, virgin carpet. It became clear then how short-sighted I've been, I am, but the moment was too precious to lose to regret.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
tenderness comes
An inchworm
on your windshield
rescued by your palm
crawled the length
of your finger
before set free
on the lawn.
on your windshield
rescued by your palm
crawled the length
of your finger
before set free
on the lawn.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Monday, September 3, 2012
gig harbor
Walking back from the dock with my guitar
fingers numb from practice
in the cold, wet Washington fall
I almost stepped on you, slug.
fingers numb from practice
in the cold, wet Washington fall
I almost stepped on you, slug.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Santa Monica Farmer's Market
A strawberry vendor offered me one of his wares. It left a quarter-sized hickey of red juice on my blouse. I didn't mind. This particular berry elicited a squeal of delight when I bit into it. Tongues alive! Surely that's worth a little stain-remover.
Farther down a few potatoes. Ted said he thought they were better than Yukon Gold, but threw in a bunch of green onions anyway to sweeten the deal. Shiny purple eggplants added weight to my bag. Fresh thyme. A trio of onions still caked with dirt. A stop at the dried fruit stall. Shall I taste the cherries? Do I like sweet or tarte things? A handfull of currants. A sliver of mango. My day completes with a dozen fresh brown eggs and small jar of honey.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
risky business
I find that the April 14th weekend seminar on the G.I. Gurdieff and J.G. Bennett Fourth Way teachings presented by Ben, Cindy, George and Ana Bennett - who, along with planning it from a distance, so generously flew out here all the way from Massachusetts - has left me with much to write. Where to begin?
One thing it made me reflect on is risk. The potential latent in risk, as well as hazard. I never personally met Mr. Bennett but imagine if I were him the temptation to rest on my laurels, with so many students looking on, would be high. But he never stopped pushing forward. He never stopped learning regardless of what he already knew or what status he had attained. This alone garners the greatest respect from me. It speaks of his commitment to life and all that is alive, to his humility and his humanity. That, though he may have had something to say about it, he never shunned even the weakest of us and never seemed to forget himself or his origins.
Accepting risk into one's life is accepting the challenge of the outside world and circumstances against your beliefs - also accepting that, as a consequence, you might have to revise them. The moment you drift away from this willingness to be challenged and be changed, to be found out, to be found wrong, you die. It may happen in increments as the decisions you make to avoid risk multiply, but it's death just the same. And it is observable. It is as instantaneous as it is slow because when it happens our world contracts. We are sometimes, as a result, made more comfortable for it. But this is akin to the blessing of a person who dies quietly in their sleep. If I am to die, I want to go kicking and screaming. It's not the death of the physical body I am referring to. That is quite apart.
One thing it made me reflect on is risk. The potential latent in risk, as well as hazard. I never personally met Mr. Bennett but imagine if I were him the temptation to rest on my laurels, with so many students looking on, would be high. But he never stopped pushing forward. He never stopped learning regardless of what he already knew or what status he had attained. This alone garners the greatest respect from me. It speaks of his commitment to life and all that is alive, to his humility and his humanity. That, though he may have had something to say about it, he never shunned even the weakest of us and never seemed to forget himself or his origins.
Accepting risk into one's life is accepting the challenge of the outside world and circumstances against your beliefs - also accepting that, as a consequence, you might have to revise them. The moment you drift away from this willingness to be challenged and be changed, to be found out, to be found wrong, you die. It may happen in increments as the decisions you make to avoid risk multiply, but it's death just the same. And it is observable. It is as instantaneous as it is slow because when it happens our world contracts. We are sometimes, as a result, made more comfortable for it. But this is akin to the blessing of a person who dies quietly in their sleep. If I am to die, I want to go kicking and screaming. It's not the death of the physical body I am referring to. That is quite apart.
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