October 4, 2012
Retreat
Is everyone in retreat?
Meditation retreat,
Detox retreat,
Loving couples retreat,
Yoga Retreat,
Women's Retreat,
Men's retreat.
"Open your mind,
Open your heart."
(Open your wallet).
Open your eyes.
Don't retreat.
The world needs less retreating and more doing.
More sharing and less going within.
More community and less solitude.
More pull, less push.
More Courage, less fear.
More Forgiveness, less ... ... ... fear.
Now is not the time to retreat.
I nudge my self from within:
"Step forward, relax,
speak from your truth."
I encourage with firm and gentle words:
"Donate, volunteer, reciprocate.
Share, ask, communicate.
Balance, stretch, breathe.
Listen, research, read."
And together we pray:
"Let unity come.
Come unity, come.
Let Community swarm,
A rising breath of passion,
a sea-swell heaving.
Let its nature be its nourishment.
Let people be its roots,
Let community be its core,
Let it sprout ideas a-plenty,
and project its branch-like projects,
throwing out leaves of abundance and gratitude.
Let it bloom glorious flowers of completion
and radiant achievement
for all to enjoy.
And benefit. And learn. And find peace therein."
And thus our mantra,
my self and me:
"Come unity come.
Don't ever retreat."
* * *
August 1, 2012
Sing your death song...
“So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none.
When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.”
~ Chief Tecumseh
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and grovel to none.
When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.”
~ Chief Tecumseh
The G-spot
Seriously? I just hit the "next blog" button to see what juicy blog-ness this site had in store for the likes of me.
God. Jesus. God. Church. Heaven and Hell. God. God. Jesus. God. .. .. ...
I went through 15 or so, each one BAR NONE with a reference to God - including the one titled "The G-spot" which I thought was hilarious. And I don't mean the new-age spiritualist, pseudo-Christian, hippy-type God. I mean the fundamentalist American Bible-belt type God. Discussions about what there reverend had to say, what the next sermon should be, how grateful one should be to have Jesus in one's life and how fearful one should be that one might (God forbid) burn in hell for all eternity.
Granted, I didn't give them much time or even the philosophical and open mind I would hope my readers have when reading my stuff... but seriously. Where are all the hippies?
Let me give you an example. One blogger's under-title quote reads: "If any one saith, that Christ Jesus was given of God to men, as a redeemer in whom to trust, and not also as a legislator whom to obey; let him be anathema."
Its not that it offends me... I guess I just cant relate. Reading this just gave me the clear sign that I had nothing to learn there or, in fact, anything to lean into.
Click, another. Click, another. Click... and so on. That got me thinking...
Am I on the wrong bloggin' site or something?
God. Jesus. God. Church. Heaven and Hell. God. God. Jesus. God. .. .. ...
I went through 15 or so, each one BAR NONE with a reference to God - including the one titled "The G-spot" which I thought was hilarious. And I don't mean the new-age spiritualist, pseudo-Christian, hippy-type God. I mean the fundamentalist American Bible-belt type God. Discussions about what there reverend had to say, what the next sermon should be, how grateful one should be to have Jesus in one's life and how fearful one should be that one might (God forbid) burn in hell for all eternity.
Granted, I didn't give them much time or even the philosophical and open mind I would hope my readers have when reading my stuff... but seriously. Where are all the hippies?
Let me give you an example. One blogger's under-title quote reads: "If any one saith, that Christ Jesus was given of God to men, as a redeemer in whom to trust, and not also as a legislator whom to obey; let him be anathema."
Its not that it offends me... I guess I just cant relate. Reading this just gave me the clear sign that I had nothing to learn there or, in fact, anything to lean into.
Click, another. Click, another. Click... and so on. That got me thinking...
Am I on the wrong bloggin' site or something?
July 31, 2012
July 27, 2012
being like Teflon
It's an important skill, knowing how to separate yourself from what can be intense experiences of others; to be 'the empty vessel', to let it slide off, to be 'like Teflon'...
Just be careful not to distance yourself too much, become dislocated and wind up with your head in your a*se. It is important to feel, in order to deeply understand others' sufferings and help them celebrate their joy and bliss. It's important to maintain the ability to connect deeply with others so that others may feel connected to and understood.
To understand and share the joy and pain of others keeps us cautious and maintains our drive to fight for what we deem our truth. we are reminded to search for and move towards peace in the world (where others may not be able to), being a beacon for peace in others, which is, the peace within ourselves .
The need for separation comes when we find ourselves carrying the heaviness, when we let it stick and it accumulates within us and becomes our own personal baggage. This is definitely NOT cool.
So this is the goal; to appreciate and maintain our genuine nature - our humanity and our softness, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable in the face of suffering, to allow ourselves to feel, to get uncomfortable... and then, to master the art of allowing it to pass, of giving thanks for the experience and letting it go. In this way we remain grounded, connected and full of gratitude and compassion.
... i reckon.
Just be careful not to distance yourself too much, become dislocated and wind up with your head in your a*se. It is important to feel, in order to deeply understand others' sufferings and help them celebrate their joy and bliss. It's important to maintain the ability to connect deeply with others so that others may feel connected to and understood.
To understand and share the joy and pain of others keeps us cautious and maintains our drive to fight for what we deem our truth. we are reminded to search for and move towards peace in the world (where others may not be able to), being a beacon for peace in others, which is, the peace within ourselves .
The need for separation comes when we find ourselves carrying the heaviness, when we let it stick and it accumulates within us and becomes our own personal baggage. This is definitely NOT cool.
So this is the goal; to appreciate and maintain our genuine nature - our humanity and our softness, to allow ourselves to be vulnerable in the face of suffering, to allow ourselves to feel, to get uncomfortable... and then, to master the art of allowing it to pass, of giving thanks for the experience and letting it go. In this way we remain grounded, connected and full of gratitude and compassion.
... i reckon.
April 26, 2012
April 13, 2012
5 strings and a bag of oats
This is a story of my very own, self-proclaimed moment of true ecstasy. Cool huh?
I'll tell you time and again it was in 2000. After a whirl-wind three months backpacking around NZ with nothing to my name except a five-stringed guitar and a bag of oats, dates and pumpkin seeds, I arrived in Sydney off an 8 hour bus-ride.
All too soon, my clad-in-rainbow-fairy-skirt self knew all too well I had barely enough to get from the bus station to the city. But with my remaining coinage and a gasp of hope I made it to the big smoke. Sydney Town. Sydney. The biggest city I'd seen in many a month. So, there I was. Dressed like a Byron Bay feral with a half-shaved head and from my nose septum hanging a bulbous silver bull-ring, I carried my freshly 21 years into the busy CBD streets and the morning peak-hour crawl. Checking my pockets I had all but 20 cents to my name. Not enough in my account to withdraw, even if I bothered to go inside. Not even enough for a phone call...
It hit me. Like a wave of silence, it hit me: "I have no where to go. Nowhere to be. No one is expecting me, or anything of me. I have nothing to buy and nothing to choose. I have nothing to do, but sit. And wait."
So I did.
I sat. I watched the morning CBD busy-ness of business. I watched the sly glances and the hurried steps. I watched the frantic phonecalls and the thrumbing thumbing text messages. And through the barrage of suits and blouses I watched. I watched a man dive a grubby hand into a rubbish bin and examine the contents for usefulness or a couple of calories. I watched a vacant-eyed woman feed the crumbs of her crumpled bag to any pigeons who seemed to care. I sat. I watched, and I waited.
Then I got thirsty.
So I walked. I walked around those busy streets, noticing the people who curved their bodies as to not touch mine. As if I was an infection. I watched my grubby, sandled feet pave those steps around the perfect concrete slabs until, I found a simple water fountain - old and cold. This forgotten friend of Sydney and I became acquainted as I drank from her and wondered how long she had been there; if she had been placed there just for me. In this moment. Now.
The hours passed. Nothing to choose. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. I had never been more free. I sat, mind vacant. Nothing to choose, nowhere to be. Nothing to be. Nowhere to choose. The silence seemed to open me. Like a moment of pure detachment, pure freedom, pure bliss. Nothing to do, nothing to buy. Nowhere to be, nowhere to go. I was forced, like a willing slave, to simply sit and BE STILL.
I had never been more free, nor have I been as free since.
***
12 years later I find myself losing sleep over choosing what kind of sink this 'we' are going to buy. I find myself in a nightmare - a giant cascading waterfall of choices which I feel threatens to drown me, to flood my insides and squish my 21 year old self under a barrage of glossy magazines and junk mail.
How did we get this way? As a species I mean? How did I get this way? Well... that's another story.
I'll tell you time and again it was in 2000. After a whirl-wind three months backpacking around NZ with nothing to my name except a five-stringed guitar and a bag of oats, dates and pumpkin seeds, I arrived in Sydney off an 8 hour bus-ride.
All too soon, my clad-in-rainbow-fairy-skirt self knew all too well I had barely enough to get from the bus station to the city. But with my remaining coinage and a gasp of hope I made it to the big smoke. Sydney Town. Sydney. The biggest city I'd seen in many a month. So, there I was. Dressed like a Byron Bay feral with a half-shaved head and from my nose septum hanging a bulbous silver bull-ring, I carried my freshly 21 years into the busy CBD streets and the morning peak-hour crawl. Checking my pockets I had all but 20 cents to my name. Not enough in my account to withdraw, even if I bothered to go inside. Not even enough for a phone call...
It hit me. Like a wave of silence, it hit me: "I have no where to go. Nowhere to be. No one is expecting me, or anything of me. I have nothing to buy and nothing to choose. I have nothing to do, but sit. And wait."
So I did.
I sat. I watched the morning CBD busy-ness of business. I watched the sly glances and the hurried steps. I watched the frantic phonecalls and the thrumbing thumbing text messages. And through the barrage of suits and blouses I watched. I watched a man dive a grubby hand into a rubbish bin and examine the contents for usefulness or a couple of calories. I watched a vacant-eyed woman feed the crumbs of her crumpled bag to any pigeons who seemed to care. I sat. I watched, and I waited.
Then I got thirsty.
So I walked. I walked around those busy streets, noticing the people who curved their bodies as to not touch mine. As if I was an infection. I watched my grubby, sandled feet pave those steps around the perfect concrete slabs until, I found a simple water fountain - old and cold. This forgotten friend of Sydney and I became acquainted as I drank from her and wondered how long she had been there; if she had been placed there just for me. In this moment. Now.
The hours passed. Nothing to choose. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. I had never been more free. I sat, mind vacant. Nothing to choose, nowhere to be. Nothing to be. Nowhere to choose. The silence seemed to open me. Like a moment of pure detachment, pure freedom, pure bliss. Nothing to do, nothing to buy. Nowhere to be, nowhere to go. I was forced, like a willing slave, to simply sit and BE STILL.
I had never been more free, nor have I been as free since.
***
12 years later I find myself losing sleep over choosing what kind of sink this 'we' are going to buy. I find myself in a nightmare - a giant cascading waterfall of choices which I feel threatens to drown me, to flood my insides and squish my 21 year old self under a barrage of glossy magazines and junk mail.
How did we get this way? As a species I mean? How did I get this way? Well... that's another story.
February 1, 2012
Home
Home.
The sky above my home
is as familiar to me
as my skin
as the scent
of the eucalypt tree.
Everything is exactly where
it is meant to be.
January 2, 2012
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