Thursday, December 9, 2010

how do I get there?

A recent tool I have been using in my thought life is talking to future me. Me five years from now. She's smart, fit, funny-- has a twinkle in her eye and a genuine smile on her face. This girl knows things. She knows more about me than I do and she is damn good at doing what she does. She knows how to make things happen.


She's not going to let me cheat though.... she'll show me the last few things she's done and I'm really impressed. But between here and there is a turning point. A huge "Aha!" moment... the funny thing is, she keeps assuring me I know what it is...


Do you ever get the feeling you are standing in the way of your destiny? How do you plan to stop?

Saturday, July 10, 2010

If you are a dreamer, come in!

No matter the skeptics, social media (like this) has things to offer that our 3-dimensional long-distance friendships does not. Few of you may be online right now, but you will see that I have posted something that was on my mind and we will connect at different times all across the country (even the Earth in some cases). I may be out and about, taking a shower, or feeding Elek, but we will share this nonetheless. Anyway, I find the following passage beautiful because it reminds me there is beauty in weakness.



The Dance

I have sent you my invitation, the note inscribed on the palm of my hand by the fire of living. Don't jump up and shout, "Yes, this is what I want! Let's do it!" Just stand up quietly and dance with me.

Show me how you follow your deepest desires, spiralling down into the ache within the ache. And I will show you how I reach inward and open outward to feel the kiss of the Mystery, sweet lips on my own, everyday.

Don't tell me you want to hold the whole world in your heart. Show me how you turn away from making another wrong without abandoning yourself when you are hurt and afraid of being unloved.

Tell me a story of who you are,
And see who I am in the stories I am living. And together we will remember that each of us always has a choice.

Don't tell me how wonderful things will be . . . some day. Show me you can risk being completely at peace, truly OK with the way things are right now in this moment, and again in the next and the next and the next. . .

I have heard enough warrior stories of heroic daring. Tell me how you crumble when you hit the wall, the place you cannot go beyond by the strength of your own will. What carries you to the other side of that wall, to the fragile beauty of your own humanness?

And after we have shown each other how we have set and kept the clear, healthy boundaries that help us live side by side with each other, let us risk remembering that we never stop silently loving those we once loved out loud.

Take me to the places on the earth that teach you how to dance, the places where you can risk letting the world break your heart. And I will take you to the places where the earth beneath my feet and the stars overhead make my heart whole again and again.

Show me how you take care of business without letting business determine who you are. When the children are fed but still the voices within and around us shout that soul's desires have too high a price, let us remind each other that it is never about the money.

Show me how you offer to your people and the world the stories and the songs you want our children's children to remember, and I will show you how I struggle not to change the world, but to love it.

Sit beside me in long moments of shared solitude, knowing both our absolute aloneness and our undeniable belonging. Dance with me in the silence and in the sound of small daily words, holding neither against me at the end of the day.

And when the sound of all the declarations of our sincerest intentions has died away on the wind, dance with me in the infinite pause before the next great inhale of the breath that is breathing us all into being, not filling the emptiness from the outside or from within.

Don't say, "Yes!"
Just take my hand and dance with me.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Friday, July 9, 2010

"does everyone deserve to be happy?"

happiness-contentment-love-joy

i find that the concept of happiness (in terms of contentment) has everything to do with your own perception and assimilation of your environmental surroundings and circumstances.

i think contentment is something that takes work. it is like having a great body-- it's available to 99% of people... you just have to work for it. every day. little decisions about this thing that just happened or the driver that cut you off.... each reaction compiles into our level of contentment.

happy happy. the super-emotional happy.... happy vs. sad vs. angry vs. embarrassed happy... now that is something that you truly can not and should not be all the time-- without balance and calm and peace there is just no way to sustain it-- like MDMA (Ecstasy)-- it's a forced chemical response that weakens your ability to feel pure joy and elation in the future

and then there's money/riches/stuff=happy -- i think this is the fuel of demons... the empty pit that preys on possessions of others in search of that artificial MDMA high.... just to keep it going... just to get a fix "if i could just..." that mentality keeps everyone from growing

so-- all of that being said... "does everyone deserve to be happy?" i think we each owe it to our selves to strive for contentment. to seek a pure, unadulterated love that we wrap ourselves around and it wraps itself around us... the kind of love that oozes out of you-- your happiness can be contagious-- the kind of love and warmth that truly drives out fear and negativity and greed.

i just focus on me and I find that I am drawn to those who are followers of love. not leeches of my energy or people who cloud my clear sky.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

reaching

I need pen and ink. Thick paper. Ambient sound.

Disconnected. FOCUS--

I need pen and ink.

Thick paper.

Ambient sound.

Rushing water.... the glimmer of my toes in another dimension.

The echo of love reverberating through my skeleton--- resounding with my soul-- a tuning fork pulling me back.... to the core of all that is real

I need the fuel of my inner light to come through my hands and create

I need the clay of a concept, the molding of an idea, the genesis of a world change

I need to be a tree... I want to feel my roots in the cool dark Earth and for my arms to sway in the cool evening breeze and bask in the warm, still heat of the Sun

I need to connect...

I am an artist and the pen and ink and the ambient sound. I am alive and I am the dirt and the tree and the Sun. I am connected and I am the tuning fork pulling you back to the core of all that is real... I am the glimmer of my toes and I am the clay of a concept, the molding of an idea, the genesis of a world change

4:01 pm - an original

I'm no rocket surgeon....


The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand apt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes
are closed.

Albert Einstein

Sunday, July 4, 2010

enjoy the journey and tell the story

I love the childlike nature of his musings-- almost Hansel and Gretel, no? The Big Bang of cookie crumbs that was supposed to lead him home has now become bird food and he is destined to wander about in awe of creation and it's biggest littleness. I, for one, think it will make for good reading. Love love love my little Jiminy cricket... oh how I need an objective view of a loud conscience that isn't a mere voice in my head but in his as well.

Jeremy and I have beaten each other in ways no only child will ever understand. We have fought and been there and talked and dissolved in hilarity in ways that all siblings should be lucky enough to enjoy. I am looking forward to hearing about his journey.

Care to join me?

The God of Not Good Enough

We live in a society that tells us that we were born into imperfection. We started flawed, we screw up every day and we are destined to continue screwing up as our lives progress. I've always deep down considered my inadequacy a byproduct of my upbringing in the super-conservative, bipolar, addicted/victimized household of either "I'm so addicted that I need God" or "I'm such a martyr/victim of my circumstance and my addicted loved one that I need God." My dad always knew he wasn't good enough. His mom always knew she wasn't good enough and imposed her unfulfilled expectations on her youngest son (and I'm sure all of her children but I only witnessed it directed toward my father.) I was never thin enough for God to love me as much as he could have.

I have self-esteem... I am confident in who I am. The God of Not Good Enough is just another perfect example of how to control the masses by abusing them emotionally and psychologically. The best way to control the masses is to make them think less of themselves. Promise them gold and riches that beyond which will ever be realized in this lifetime. The truth is, if you care about money and stuff.... you'll never realize that heaven is here and now. You are perfect. Jesus wanted the poor and the hungry to know that they deserved to have their feet washed, too. Playing with a child is entering the kingdom of God. You are perfect just the way you are and to embrace your divine nature just makes you even more you. If you do one thing today please just know that you are doing what you can to make it and that you are a divine being created and sustained by love. You and your loved ones are perfect... you are loved and you are here to love others. To experience and share love with perfect strangers and your best friends.

No Jesus that I know would disagree.

What do you think? In what ways has your divine nature been able to overcome what you were taught versus what you know is true?

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Yeah I want to throw you out into space.

hahahhahaha GET DOWN GET DOWN PLEASE GET DOWN DOWN ..... GET!
DOWN!

(it's in the video at 3:55)





Well Jolene unlocked the thick, breezeway door,
Like she'd done one hundred times before.
Jolene smoothed her dark hair in the mirror.
She folded the towel carefully and put it back in place.

Yeah I want to pull you down into bed.
I want to cast your face in lead.
Well every time I pull you close,
Push my face into your hair,
Cream rinse and tobacco smoke,
That sickly scent is always, always there.

Jolene heard her father's uneven snores.
Right then she knew there must be something more.
Jolene heard the singing in the forest.
She opened the door quietly and stepped into the night.

Yeah I want to throw you out into space.
I want to do whatever it takes, takes, takes.
Well every time I pull you close,
Push my face into your hair,
Cream rinse and tobacco smoke,
That sickly scent is always, always there.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

the cure for the common hypochondriac






my mom cured me as follows:

7-year-old me: "mama look at my toe-- it's peeling. what is WRONG WITH ME?!?!"

mama: "oh? look at that! that's what happens three days before you die!"

me: (ran off screaming and crying... probably wrote a will--- i was obsessed with writing wills at that age)

after years and years of this i finally figured out xyz wasn't going to kill me.





Tuesday, June 29, 2010

do you even want to know what we're dealing with?!?

a snippet of an email from my sister:

"Wanna hear something insane? The Kenyan Bishop used my olive oil to annoint people (or marinate them)."

my response could only be an immediate:

UM OMG did he ask? whose olive oil? your moms? lol your mom. get it? no but seriously where did this olive oil come from EXACTLY.... italy? was it name brand? was it on the shelf? in the pantry? was it your own personal tiny bottle? i don't know why this is important but it is. and i need the career test. where did the anointing take place? these ppl are freakin crazy!! did anyone fall over? jesus h.

anyway... i'll continue my response later--

AHHHHHH olive oil jesus juice

oh and her response:

"hahahah...
Okay, MY olive oil! But it was in the pantry up for grabs, but you know what kills me is that there are literally like FOUR bottles of canola. I mean, WTF? That stuff is five dollars. It was the normal size, not pocket size. And yes name brand. Also, if anyone fell over, I object for the sake of MY OIL. He did this on Friday night, at my house, and TRIED to do it Sunday night, but THANK THE LORD (hahahaha), that Eddie's mother objected. She picked it up, looked straight at him and said, "We're not gonna do this." Then, I assume she put it back in the pantry where it belongs."

Friday, June 25, 2010

The Illuminated Rumi





Love is reckless, not reason;
reason seeks a profit.
Love comes on strong,
consuming herself, unabashed.

Yet, in the midst of suffering,
Love proceeds like a millstone,
hard surfaced and straightforward.

Having died of self-interest,
she risks everything and asks for nothing.

Love gambles away every gift God bestows.

Without cause God gave us Being.
Without cause, give it back again.

-- Rumi

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Addendum to "the pedestal"

i'm so horrible and vulgar-- but the only feedback i'm getting is that I'm not making sense. Well, the wonderfully loquacious Sharona seems to have gotten it but a few others are befuddled by the pedestal.

At what age (if any) do you feel like "holding on" to your virginity is an active detriment to your ability to exist normally within our society? Are there groups of individuals rapidly approaching their third decade on planet Earth having never indulged in erotic pleasures?

This whole concept of "holding" virginity is what spawned the "pussy on a pedestal" conversation... i mean... do you realize that you could totally be falsely advertising and elevating the pussy? what is this man going to expect? what is he going to receive? what tricks does said man have to perform or checklists does he have to conquer to achieve pussy-worthy status? AND WHAT ABOUT THE POOR PUSSY?!? who is REALLY suffering here??

Saturday, June 12, 2010

The Pedestal

I can NOT STOP LAUGHING at the pussy pedestal. There are so many awesome jokes that spawn from the punani on a pedestal I can't even begin... one of the highlights of a recent conversation:

"That girl putting her pussy on a pedestal is like keeping a trash can on the dining room table."

HAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

still. so. funny. but seriously. bring the pussy down. it needs to mingle.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

what's so freaking funny?!?

what's so funny? there was this gigantic black man at the bar last night that was SERIOUSLY 700 lbs-- or 400 or something... he was as big as a sumo wrestler however many pounds they are.. but a very nice disposition (i'm sure of all the things I just said about him, he would really appreciate the last part of that description)-- and he was the left-handed bassist for the band... it looked like a cartoon barbie guitar.... so teeny tiny on his gigantic body.... so I kept having this funny thought... the next time he put his guitar down (which never happened) I should run at him full speed just to see how far I would bounce off-- but it would be very dangerous (EXTREMELY!!! hahaha) so it would have to be on the grass outside and how do you get a guy like that to go to a safe place outdoors to literally physically attack him (i doubt it would hurt very much but still)



OH I KNOW--- sumo wrestler outfits-- we are having a 70s theme Spring Fling Thing and we are going to RENT SUMO OUTFITS because of my genius fantasy about the black man (see above)-- DRUNKEN SUMO!!!!!!!



Wednesday, February 3, 2010

an ode to meaningless conversation

an ode to meaningless conversation

"are you happy?"
the expectation and pretension
the casual
dismissing you before they've finished speaking

assuming you'll say yes
the waltz continues
feet shuffling away
and toward
and you attempt to lose yourself

are you happy?
on a sidewalk
people all headed
toward you
away
but all are elsewhere
have i disappeared?

are you happy?
i concentrate all of my power
on being visible
and i am seen

how i long to disappear

as long as i look like i know where I'm going

no one will ever wonder

No love is by chance, dear girl.

No love is by chance, dear girl.

so he says as if words were so simple.
they roll so beautifully out of ones fingers
and another is convinced of their truth.

No love is by chance, dear girl.

it must be so, for some love creates life.
neitzche. just doubt it.
but i dare not doubt.

to deny the existence of magic is to snuff it out

like the flame of a candle in the darkest of rooms.

No love is by chance, dear girl.

i am not ashamed to say i am still afraid of the dark.