god asks, do you trust me? [poem]

the purpose is self to experience what it is, is
all self-realization, enlightenment, removal of the veil
who decided we needed this, light beings being

god asks, do you trust me?

humans in a mad mad world without rhyme in reason
searching and seeing while others do not care to look
how miraculous it may seem to not wear spectacles

envy not the sleeping sheep with their white fluffy wool
if you choose not to look, how could you see?
they’ll be back again, trust

here’s the secret, searcher (you already know it)
do the things that bring you joy, set me on fire
your passions are also mine

you don’t need to know how. try and mind will run
wild with confusion if you choose it, choosing to
cling to itself, not self, fear

surrendering eight years later, conviction
again, oil on my face, desire in my heart
god asks, do you trust me? we’ve work to do

a dozen hands touched me, a being surrendering within
a bamboo shelterm, heaven on earth is here, on earth
god asked, do you trust me?

i replied, at last
let’s dance


terrified of the other mothering [poem]

i hurry rushing flushing bluster of nerves
i pause from stacking the tank tops on the shelf
behind the door of knotty pine, that slides, a bit rough on its track

stop
what am i doing? for whom and i changing what just was? who am i trying to be?

        my healing vacation of quasi-awakening in traumatic shifts of the self
        coming to a close. they’re already in the car. my mother driving him
        home to me, his mother
        an artist when he is away

i slide empty canvases and masterpieces just the same
inside a brown paper box awaiting life, when she comes again

since becoming a mother, i have been trying to find my other mother way
but no. i have to make my own way of mothering, because
i am terrified of the other mothering
the one without unconditional love offering freedom to be creative

        somehow there has to be space
        for art in momming
        it now is who-i-aming, so expand i must in my mothering
        i choose to make space for the artist, the child in a home
        without freedom to create, to be seen in her brightness and her glory

to the sweetness within my mothering
        i offer kindness to you, who will not be understood
        some of us cannot hold space for
        no art in our hearts, lest not in our eyes
        of the children artisting in our homes

        is that what you’re wearing? (she asks)
        yes, mom

edited:

i hurry rushing flushing bluster of nerves
pause from stacking painted tank top, black sweatshirt on a shelf
that sits behind a heavy splintered door made of knotty pine
which doesn’t slide any longer, broken now and laying rough within its metal creaking track

stop
what am i doing? for whom am i putting all this away? who am i trying to be?

my healing vacation of quasi-awakening, traumatic shifts of the self
coming to a close. they’re already in the car. my mother driving him 

        home, to his mothering
        artist when he is away

i slide empty canvases and dried lumpy creations from core
inside a brown paper box awaiting life, when she comes again

since becoming a mother, i have been trying to find another mother way
which, it doesn’t work it hurts more than helps,  i know it cannot be true, because
i am terrified of the other mothering
she doesn’t have unconditional love, or give freedom to be creating

        somehow there has to be space for me, the artst in me, within all of my mothering
        it is who-i-aming, so i must be expanding
        i choose to make space hold space offer grace for the child in this home
        full of life in her space in all she creates her brightness and her glory

and to sweet attempts and perfect failings within all of our untrue mothering
        i offer kindness to you, who won’t be understood
        some cannot hold space for
        art in our hearts, lest not in the eyes
        of children within our homes

stop, is that what you’re wearing?
        yes, mom

you can forget the words– artist you yogi you writer you–once you’ve gotten the meaning [ram dass poetic teaching]

(ram dass said chuang tzu said)

the rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit.
once you’ve gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare.
words exists because of meaning.
once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words

where can i find a man who has forgotten words so i can have word with him?
you don’t have to try or even to listen
we just have to be together and it will happen

thanks to ram dass and youtube and for 2020 for all of this that was and is to come

love is love [poetic teaching]

what is it, you say
(baba ram dass), about

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE?

when we’re in the presence
of UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
our hearts experience joy and expansion, which
is UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
and within experiencing it, we’e free to be
as WE NATURALLY ARE, LOVE

and so, you say
(baba ram dass)

THE HEART will lead your authentic
EXPANSION if we allow it to
SEEK ITSELF over and over and over
AGAIN SEEKING, finding itself
THE SOURCE

so then, you say
(baba ram dass)

in the presence of
UNCONDITIONAL LOVE
our SELF is experiencing its SELF
WE ARE FULLY ALIVE
WE ARE WITHIN LOVE
WE ARE LOVE
LOVE IS LOVE

so then, you say
(baba ram dass)

(baba ram dass) two things, maybe three

1) Let yourself BE IN UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

2) Know the LOVE is also YOU and ENDLESS and INFINITE and is is what is, so just RELAX

3) Don’t attach LOVE to an object or experience. Once it has been felt, ever, really felt between people, animals, places, situations, EVER, it is ALWAYS a part of YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS. BE GRATEFUL FOR THE LOVE AND let it go with GRACE. Period.

who is baba ram dass [in gratitude]

i am an unworthy phony who has moments of holiness, he said

i am not a holy being
who now
and then
falls

liberation
imagine a wheel
hub in the center
liberation

now and then through
intense trauma
and sadhana, or the love of a guru, or something

moments of liberation
you go
ahhh you see who you are and it’s

all beautiful and then you’re off balance and
i oughta meditate

then the weight has flipped and then you’re off balance and
i oughta stop meditating and do the dishes

you don’t have to go to india
your teachings will be right here
and then he disappeared.

in gratitude to he that is ram dass, rest in forever liberation and light.
gratitude to you, ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram ram.

einstein demands the new way of thinking, which tibetans used to know, jaar [poem]

and i quote
rameshwar das
in polishing
the mirror, quoting
albert einstein

a new type of thinking is
essential if mankind is to
survive
and move
toward
higher levels

YES! 100 AHO snaps~

what we’ve been doing
over and over the up down up down chatty kathy kitty katty nonsense
looping our minds on loop
will never work
has never worked

let it go, new path takers
reflect for a moment

did tibetans
find the
way OUT of it
the suffering, the madness, the cycles of nature, #thehorriblebeautyofitall
by thinking, the same way?
no. they did not.

let it go, new path takers
reflect for a moment

can you, can we
find the
way OUT of it
the suffering, the madness, the cycles of nature, #thehorriblebeautyofitall
by thinking, the same way?
no. i we you can not.

so, alas

look around you, the laws, the customs, the what the fuck is ok by law now?
and what are we doing in every instance of taking and making
if not to be creating more unease
predicaments within which we enslave our simple selves
all our cells and our hands and homes

within whom to we hold the power and preciousness of our sacred human gift of choice?

the invitation is here
can we please all level up
if not all, what about you, and me
for all, to restore the cosmic harmon(e)y

gyan only knows what happened to the essence of einstein, or the insighted awareness of baba ram das, or the actual souls within the actual fully earth-realized and conscious united beings of ramana maharshi, or paramahansa yogananda, or jesus christ, or buddha, or my baby buddha before he takes on the colors and the pains and the human condition of man.

i offer myself and my insights and the light of this beautiful god to you all

surrender
a new way of thinking is here, jaar

(hafiz)
oh thou who are trying to learn the marvel of love
through the copybook of reason, i am very much afraid
you will never see the point

surrender.here.now [poetic teaching]

(krishna says in the og bg)
he who teaches those who do not want to hear
is performing an immoral act
                but you couldn’t anyway

it is only at the point that you ask the question
that you can hear the answer

it is only at the point when it begins to dawn on you that maybe
all the methods you had available to you thus far
aren’t going to be enough

all we can do at this point is to
share our journeys with one another (thanks, ram ram dass)

as the heart opens
again, if they surrender

vairagya letting go
the karmic eventual non-attachment
the most sincerest of seekers, or life experiencers, will feel

        as the heart opens
        again, if they surrender

all paths lead to the same place
you can get some of the dynamics of method
other pilgrims walking the true path without a path to follow
only the heart opening
watch in wonder

        as the heart opens
        again, if they surrender

I longed to be a beautiful woman [poem] // tale of our first solo scooty adventure in the desert

I caught my shadow on the single-lane asphalt road with broken rocky shoulders that drew a line south in the Thar, save a few curves of sanddunes drifting across the surface. My head was tightly wrapped in an emerald green pashmina from Jaipur, the scarf tail dancing behind our bodies roughly one hundred kilometers from the Pakistan border. It was 95 degrees at ten am. Before we’d set off that morning I covered my son with the usual heavy gray cotton flap of his baby carrier, attached him tightly to my body, and drove down the slippery stone slabs of the fort first gate. It was the first time we’d ride here just the two of us.

The path was edged with desert cacti who wore silken flowers of faded fuchsia and tiny white pearls. The road cut through fields of harvested cumin, gathered into stone-topped drying piles amongst scattered mounds of sandstone boulders. The road curved through one small village of people who lived by shaping them. I smelled dirt. There were sandstone homes, carved beautifully, but most were square squatty concrete buildings, some with bright white lime and turquoise facades.

Muslim shepherds in sweat-stained dhotis with bulging inner pockets, slender frames, walked slowly behind dreadlocked sheep and black goats with twisted horns and rectangle eyes. Six or seven golden and burnt black camels in shade, sometimes alone, like the saggy backed bony cows who occasionally wore 15-inch horns. We passed by dung and clay huts with straw circle tops. Kids chased our scooter, which made me nervous, but happy to be seen. I smiled at the older humans, being, waiting for me to pass.

I longed to be a beautiful woman in a movie, the kind who poetry and novels are written about, dressed with a green scarf round her head, tied at the neck, pair of wheels under her, upon an open road.

Going deeper into the desert, I continued toward the Shakti temple an hour from town.

My dreams were now alive in the shadows on the ground.

If your eyes are still open [poem]

If your eyes are still open
when the birds begin to sing
stay awake
pour the tea
open the book of love songs
and poetry
wrap your shoulders in a shawl
sit outside
on your balcony
watch the sun change
the sky
from muted gray to lavender and peach
to soft faded blue
and notice the fir trees
and mountain paths
and terraces of wheat and rock
and prayer flags fluttering
in the barely moving wind
and hear the dogs beckoning
each other
to join the bell-wearing donkeys
and the day
and sip, sip, sip
it all
in

Sunrise Selfie in Dharamkot April 27 2017
Sunrise selfie at my hOMe in Dharamkot, Himachal Pradesh, Northern India. April 27, 2017

Do not ask for a heart made of different clay [poem]

Moon child, my curly-haired moon child, Lay your self open, bold and full of breath, alive, on that still-warm concrete roof, between the Ganga and the hills, and ask me what it is you long for…

But do not ask, ever again, for a heart made of different clay. For I poured my Divine Self into your being — I wanted you this way.

I wanted you to cry those tears, to surrender then resurface, to dance in most pure ecstacy, despite your person’s fears.

I wanted you to find your comfort in the trees and on the shores, to climb up into mountain meadows when you couldn’t hear me any more.

I wanted you to lose it all, to break and say goodbye, to the life you thought you lived, full of fantasies not made for freedom, that couldn’t help but make you cry.

I wanted you to dive so deep into your darkest blues, and only then get a glimpse of Self, in the will-less space of softened ego, without that name, without that mind, without much of what you thought you knew.

I am pleased that you’re still with me, crawling onward toward the light, but now, accept this grace, embrace pure courage, burn what lingers of fictitious flesh still keeping you afright.

Stop resisting, my dear moon child, trust the flow you feel. Release into this moment, for what is is mystic magic, a story sage and seer know as real.

But you’ll breathe it into life solely when you fall in love, with that not-so-broken human heart made of cosmic clay, that needs you to stop doubting, start freeing, and fully soar above.

You have the power, you carry the light, each moment has prepared you. So take one final surrendering pause, then release, my curly-haired moon child, and with love become the truth.

So do not ask, ever again, for a heart made of different clay. For I poured my Divine Self into your being — I created you this way.

….. Rishikesh, India. April 2017.

IMG_20170409_172751_01_01_01_01_01_01

Reflection of the Mayan fire ceremony

written after spending time in San Marcos, Guatemala, on the incredibly magical Lago Atitlan… ~spring 2013.

I just came across this hurried set of notes I wrote in San Marcos (on Lake Atitlan) in Guatemala. This was just days after participating in the Mayan fire ceremony with Bri (my soul sister from New Jersey I met on a bus from Managua to Guatemala City). I wasn’t going to go to this ceremony, opting to let Bri experience it herself, but I am so grateful I did. I feel my life will never be the same after hearing some insights into the Mayan astrological sign for my life…

I need to take time to edit this into a readable story, but for now, the notes must suffice.

Notes below:

I know now that I’m meant to write and I’m meant to share and I’m meant to travel and I’m meant to create bonds and relationships between people and communities. I’m meant to share knowledge of what I know is truth (what this is I’m still unsure). I’m meant to be bonded with another and my full energy and spirit can only shine when I am making time for dance and play and creativity, and when I’m able to find change and sunrises. I also need to keep in balance the giving and receiving.

My energy nawal is No’j, which is the Mayan symbol for wisdom and turning intelligence into action.

I’m rooted in Toj, which is a symbol of balance.

My destiny is ruled by Kan, which is the creation nawal and full of sexual energy and relationships.

I have Akabal and Batz on my sides, signifying change and creativity.

The fire ceremony I experienced a few days ago was magic. Words will not be able to adequately describe what I felt during the 5 hours Bri and I spent with Jennifer and Sondri. We were told the ancient Mayan creation story about the two sacred snakes creating the human race four times, and it wasn’t until the fourth time that the human race was able to give gratitude to the creators. There were four races of people — red, black, yellow, and white, each having a correlation with an element. Red were the fire people, white were the winds, black was the water, and yellow was the earth (the corn).

Jennifer also told us about the tale of the two brothers who became the sun and moon after defeating the lords of the underworld and being brought from the underworld by faith from their grandmother.

She also told us that true paradise can only be found within, and it comes when we genuinely feel respect for all things. Everything deserves respect, she said.

We sat around the alter of No’j, my nawal, which just coincidentally happened to be on the land at which they were staying. Sondri prepared a fire circle while we’d been speaking, and we all lit it and took care of the fire together. We gave items to the fire (candles, leaves, broken sticks) as needed.

We called in the energies from each of the 20 nawals, some of which Bri and I did (I called in No’J for example) and the others were done by Jennifer and Sondri.

We sometimes used playful ways to call in the energies, like when we called in B’atz (which is symbolized by the monkey) we all made monkey sounds to show we were playful and respecting the energy we wanted.

There were sometimes we called out our names because our names have power and deserve energy.

There were times we held hands and used our elements – mine was/is Earth and the west (my actual nawal direction is east).

Sondri explained that everything is teaching us something. When the fire goes out, that means we were either proceeding too slow or that we needed to pay it more attention.

This event was quite moving for me, and for Bri. Bri ended up staying in the little magical lake town for a couple months after I left actually.

Tears of joy! Overwhelmed with love and love and love.

“Wear gratitude like a cloak and it will feed your entire life.” – Rumi

Just one year ago, I sat with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat on a comfortable, puffy, oh-so-spoiled striped yellow bed at my best friend’s house. The two of us and another girlfriend of ours, and my much-too-furry-and-fat golden retriever, shared a one-bedroom apartment in a hip suburban-Detroit neighborhood. In theory, this was perfect (two broke girls + 1 even-more-broke girl(me) + a dog? We were in made-for-television heaven!)!

You see, I had just returned to Michigan, unplanned and unprepared, after four months abroad, and decided to weasel my way into this cozy home and create a fun, bohemian life for a few months. Well, that didn’t turn out so well.

Within a few weeks of living with this blonde yogi/PR-impassioned/pretty princess and uber-motivated/fiery ginger/goddess pair, I was more lost than ever before. What the fuck was I doing? Who were these women who had somehow transformed from my friends into enlightened beings who were living lives that were somehow sooooo much better than mine, who had it all figured out, who were taking me in just as they would a lost, sad, cute curly-haired little puppy? (Turns out, they weren’t purposely making me jealous, but rather they were just regular, albeit amazing, humans with direction and ambition in a world that seemed to have lost all cardinal points to me.)

So I left. I backed out before things had a chance to get better. I went north. I took another fruitless job in an isolated place, openly allowing myself to wallow and wither away…

But it’s not a tragic story in the end, you see. It’s actually an amazing, enchanted tale full of love and luck and magic!

What started just over a year ago as a period of complete confusion and disappearing dreams turned into a year of trials and tests and grace and absolute blessed goodness!

Who started just over a year ago as a lost child grasping at stranded strings has turned into a focused, inspired, ambitious, balanced woman living on faith and intuition, and loving each moment!

Tomorrow I will be leading my first set of yoga classes in Michigan.

What?! I have somehow transformed from a lost soul looking for guidance, to someone who will be providing guidance and hope and (hopefully) inspiration to sister and brother souls looking for peace and happiness — the same peace and happiness I was looking for, the same that I would never find out there, but rather the kind one can only find within.

So today, I sit sipping mint tea. Happy. In this moment. There’s a set of centering stone rings on my tan fingers, a streak of henna in my hair, a sparkling gem in my nose, and a big smile on my face…

Today, there are tears in my eyes but my throat is free, and my voice is strong, and I can proudly say I'm happy to be where I am
Today, there are tears in my eyes but my throat is free, and my voice is strong, and I can proudly say I’m happy to be where I am.

A year ago, I had tears in my eyes. Tears of sadness, depression, anger, confusion..

Today, I still have tears in my eyes. But now, these tears couldn’t come from a more beautiful place. These are tears of gratitude! Tears of strength! Tears of passion and power and hope and honesty! Tears of joy, and tears of truth.

Today, there are tears in my eyes but my throat is free, and my voice is strong, and I can proudly say I’m happy to be where I am, to have experienced all that I have, and to be headed toward a mysterious place that can only be full of blessings and exciting, welcomed challenges.

Life is good, you know. And life is ever-changing. And anything is possible, always.

Give thanks today for the blessings of yesterday, of now, and of each tomorrow to come.

Thank you, Universe. So very much. xxoo

And thank you, above-mentioned soul sisters for all the kindness and love you showered on this curly-haired puppy left out in the rain on her own (truth be told — she let herself out and then stubbornly refused to come back in. what a silly puppy she was!). I love you, so very much!