And so it begins. Again repeating on itself, encircling, engaged, sharp. I have so much love for all that I have become, am becoming, have yet to become.
Today, amongst the low setting clouds I spent a moment wishing hard for something that will probably never come.
I lean in to the aspiration, knowing, of course that inspiration lies deep within.
Onward….
Eve Realized
These are the new days, as opposed
Old day stomping grounds translucent
Smoothed over hieroglyphics casting memories asunder
The moss upturned in the garden scattering relics from within.
There’s Rosa and Gloria and Betty and Diana, standing
Horizon glimmering with fresh graves
Outliers all of us gathering, inevitably
Dionysia descendants, wail-free.
Witchy outcomes need not apply
And yet the Fates predestine; spinning, allotting, unturnable
Life’s beginning and end presupposing a juicy middle
Poised as such on the quivering thread.
Before the battle beguilement sets in
Apropos of nothing
Blood smeared, smacked, kismet abounds
No shelter is there, here.
Pink robed inheritors freshly tinged, en masse
Uploading mega-byted courage
Shimmery with virtual strength, conquering
Scoping out prisoners, pre- slaughter.
There is pleasure in the doing
And strength, irrepressibly joyful
Sex ribboning out, endlessly twirling
Hands held to the light, after darkness.
Witnesses to the communion, sharing breaths
Delighting in the sweet expansive inhale
Softening softly on the unknowable exhale
In between shared spirits floating, endlessly. (Endlessly in-between shared spirits, floating)
Destiny made, one battle at a time
Awash in incandescent freshness, anew
There is beauty here, encircling the circle
Infinity, always curious, laughs.
I’m normally luckily lazy on Sundays, like lie around in my p.j’s all day kind of lazy, like don’t answer the phone because talking is too much effort lazy, like letting Bevie bring me breakfast on a tray lazy; lusciously lazy, loving it. But this Sunday, out of the house, hatted, scarfed and gloved, heading towards a nook and cranny place called Hyland Hills to meet a friend and learn about the power of connection, unconditional love of Self, and what it’s like to do something that the world would tell you was impossible.
In my line of life I am quite fortunate to often be offered the invitation to see what is not easily seen, to intend toward the offering and yoke. The Yoga Sutra goes: “Atha Yoga anushasanam,” Now the practice of yoga begins. And on this slippery slope, I suddenly realize that the day that I have planned is not necessarily the day that I get, or, in fact, oftentimes the day that I imagine is never as good as the day that I get or, put simply, to stay in the moment and believe in the magic of what reveals is so much more awesome than anything I could ever hope to get. Such is this particular Sunday and the sweet, surprising, succulent gift that I was given. It’s powerful and humbling, tender and magnificent, ananda-making, light-filled, and felt a hell of a lot like True freedom.
Thank you Karyl and The Courage Kenny Rehabilitation Institute!
It’s 2:35 pm on 494 and I haven’t had to fight the traffic. I’m flitting through possibilities, diving into the treasure chest, open to the encounter, reminding my dashboard, out loud that my job is not to come up with answers, but to be there for the questions; open, vulnerable, wordless even. For me, always a challenge.
I’m remembering a Bob Marley quote, surprisingly: “Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet.” As I pull into the parking lot, I’m softening into the former, rejecting the messiness of the latter, when suddenly the force of Self hits me so hard that I wait for a moment and relinquish myself to myself, realizing quite suddenly that the only thing that matters in this deliciousness is how much I allow and how much I give. I’m floating, pink lipstick perfectly applied, unabashedly awash in a feeling so pure, alight within the gift I realize, once again, I am quite humbly the facilitator, hoping against hope for a downpour.
And today, without coincidence, my 3:00 client, a woman I have come to know and love and nurture pretty well, is the perfect recipient. So I tell her, somewhere between hip/strap and legs up the wall: “I see you as you truly are; unzipped, unraveled, unstuck. Let your journey be from here to here. There is nothing you need to become, there is only that which you already are; truly limitless, joyful, peaceful and free. Accept the invitation to step once again into your own magnificence.” And in this fierce, ferociously unfathomable power of the giving, we are both complete.
I’m hanging out inside the chapel at Minnetonka Shores, grounding myself before class in the reflected rainbow light streaming through the triptych of stained glass windows. It creates this funky, fractured, fuzzy mosaic on a floor I know well. I step inside, a weekly baptism of sorts, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, co-inhering with unknown promise. It’s like winning the peace lottery or being able to look someone who’s really hurt me in the eye and see their woundedness rather than my own, (forgiveness, I’m guessing). Or, orgasming my way through a great slice of pizza, or three.
It’s how I roll now, in the moment, accepting these small ritualized gifts of contentment such as they are, aware that their beguiling elusiveness is part of the process; slippery, serendipitous, surprising. I’ve come a long way….
In comes Marlene, wheel-chaired, latest brittle broken bone, her arm, casted and wrapped to match her silver lame outfit. She’s followed by Sue who reminds me once again that she never misses class, a truth I can’t deny. Doris, 94, disappointed that arthritis has suddenly shown up in her right shoulder. Sweet Marilyn, on-time and apologizing for being late. Carol 1 and 2, beautiful, smiling, walkers in tow. Jon, fairly new, sits in the back, alone, younger than me, bewildered. Paul who jumped out of airplanes in World War 2. “You are braver than I could ever be.” He smiles and let’s his daughter Peg speak for him…as usual.
This is the crew that I encounter today, carry with me now, wrap around me like a cloak of invincibility as I bare myself out into the universe as me, as I am, unadorned, abiding in the power of my own life revealing itself, moment by moment by moment by moment. “Right”, I say, “let’s begin.”
I would never have gotten this far without all of you (definitely not definitive or complete, in no particular order of preference, intuitive leaps):
(Photo courtesy of my beautiful friend and yoga colleague, Noelle Farmer)
It’s Samskara Saturday and we have arrived at anahata, the heart. I have been awake since 5:40 am for a 10:30 am start time playing over scenarios for upholding and uplifting that will best radiate the ferocity of connecting and belonging so integral to this session. Around 7:00 am I arrive at the starting line of an idea that I hope will work, sear the intention into the heart, inspire expansion.
At 8:00 am I surrender and shower.
I am reminded of so many times I have been here before, poised on the edge of control and trust, not knowing, wanting to believe in uncertainty, but over-thinking and trying not to listen to the chatter in my head. I have a tendency to lean into self-diminishment when I feel under pressure. I decide to eat last night’s leftovers as breakfast instead.
Life is never as austere as I imagine it. I am beginning, thank God, to take myself less seriously.
The truth is, I know what I am doing. And these whiffs of inspiration that arrive with the sunrise are gifts from the universe that lighten my journey and enhance my offerings to others. I’m grateful for them, as I am for the light, within and without, my beautiful students, so eager to experience, so willing to go there, bravely inclining toward a truth and a connection they have yet to know.
It’s 1:00 pm, I’m putting the crystallized ginger back into the plastic bag, reflecting, wondering, inviting nuance where none is necessary. Who knew partner yoga with instructed assists, modified with a chair, as needed, could be such a compelling invitation to a sweet experience of the energy of the heart. We are all whole-heartedly broken open.
I swallow the large chunk of ginger I have let swirl in my mouth, noting its sugariness, delighting instinctively in a gentle connection to all that I am within. Renee, my partner in crime puts her arm around me. We exhale together….
I’m at the outer edge of a boundary that I erected for myself. It’s no line in the sand, but the real thing; enforced, communicated calmly, held deep in my heart. In theory, I feel really good about it. The kind of good that makes my heart swell, invites me to pay for someone else’s lunch, such a spectacular boundary that I am beyond shocked when it is crossed. And even more gobsmacked when I realize I am the perpetrator; all in the name of self-discovery, expansion, awesome growth.
I teach what I am meant to learn. So it is a surprise to me on 3M Tuesday when I am confronted with the answers to the question that I ask: “What is the biggest lie you have always told yourself?”, that I resonate with every single one. “Shit,” I say under my breath. And then try to hang onto the wispy life raft of self-confidence that offers itself whenever I am hit hard by a need to be vulnerable and an equal lack of desire to do so.
I’m in Eagan Minnesota facilitating a Yoga Psychotherapeutics workshop. It’s beautiful stuff, really, normally, sometimes painfully. But tonight the room practically shimmers with a sense of soil tilled over hard to reveal the sharp earthiness of a life grounded in everlasting expansion. We all sit together, nodding our heads, passing tissues, offering wavering smiles as we parse through the not good enough’s and the shame of our bodies and the glaring void of loss.
We are a Kula, a community of the heart; broken wide-open to reveal the tender, sweet, soft nectar within. Such is enough; when the tight grip of the unknown cedes into uncertainty and what once seemed unsurpassable is now made possible through the generous ferocious deep Spirits of others. We are all interconnected, intertwined, co-inhering, filling up one another’s empty spaces, breathing the same air. We exhale toward spontaneous stillness, quietly, longingly, lovingly, together.
Oftentimes peace is it…. View outside my bedroom window at 8:45 pm. I think there might be prayer possible in this kind of quiet, still, spacious experience. Much gracious, grand and glimmery gratitude to all of you.
How gratitude can be easy (not a definitive top 10):
Thanks to the fabulous Aylin Collier for the Pablo Neruda quote.
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