House Hunting

I will remember this.  I'm not sure when, or in what context.  But I know I will remember this.  You and me and our Sunday drives.  Wondering, talking, driving.  All over the greater area to a million roads that look the same... but aren't.

Our dreams. For now contained in the cabin of your car, someday to become real.  Perhaps a place we've already seen, perhaps one we have yet to envision.  No matter because for now all we need is the dream.

You.  Me.  Your car.  An app on my phone.  Conversation and roads.  And hope.

The Rage

Here- this is my rage.
I made it for you.
Take it.

I took everything you've done
and much more of what you refused to do
what I needed you to do
and swallowed it
deep.

It cooked in the fire of my belly
with the pressure of my entire being
bearing down.
and I let it stay there
building...

It is for you
beacause it is of you.
It is through you
that I received the raw supplies.
It is yours,
just as much as it is mine.

But you will not see that.

You will choose to stay blind.
That is what you do,
after all.

So you will not see yourself in it.
You will not see what you have given
that made it.
And you will do it again
to someone else.

But this,
this is mine.
Born through me,
But of you.

This is my rage.

Take it.

Real-Life Angels

I've been through this process before, many times now.  And it's eerily familiar in so many ways.  The panicked way of living with late nights, early mornings and little sleep in between.  The frenzied feeling of never having enough hours in the day.  The self-empowering little talks followed by the defeated hopelessness.  The sinking sensation in your skin, muscles, bones and even breath.  Like even your body is closing in on you. 

But here's what I've never experienced before: angels coming to my rescue.  Laughing, joking, singing, snarling, complaining and insanely validating angels helping me by doing the work I think I should be able to do myself (and have always had to do myself in the past because no one else was there.)  There were two of them today and they came without specific request.  Without being told by someone else, without being compelled by money or a desire to show off for someone who might grant them position or status in payment.  They came because they genuinely believe in team work- the kind of selflessness so often advocated but so rarely seen in real life.

And as I worked my insanely long work day with them there keeping my insanity at bay with their constant stream of ridiculous jokes, loving teases, sing-along-to-pandora loveliness I realized: angels do exist.

The Work

It's easy to love yourself on the bright days.  When you smell nice, look pretty and get out of bed before you hit the snooze alarm for the second time.  When you have the time to sit and meditate before sitting in morning traffic and not losing your cool.  When you carry that calm air into the workplace and field e-mails and phone calls while sipping your coffee and thinking about what to go over with your clients.  When you're smart and organized and on top of shit.  Those are the days when you convince yourself of your growing status as a genuinely wonderful person.

But these are not those days.  These are the days when your monsters rear their heads like unbeatable hydra and that voice in your head is so loud you have a hard time hearing the person talking.  The days when those old bad habits you thought you'd learned from and trained yourself out of years ago because they make absolutely no sense to repeat bash your skull against the proverbial rocks and hard places of your own creation.  The days when you're very much the opposite of intelligent, very much the opposite of calm, very much the opposite of the things you convince yourself you are on the good days.  And in these dark times you do what we all do: you make it worse by using soothing but ultimately destructive techniques to take the edge off (insert drug of choice here).

But what they say is that these are the days where the opportunity to love yourself is greatest.  Where the lessons you learn are strongest.  When the ability to amaze yourself is at its max.  Challenge is a nicer word for problem, right?  But maybe it's true- maybe this really is the proving ground.

To be all of those horrible things you wish nothing more than to not be and love yourself anyway.  Smelly and defeated and useless and weak and still perfectly lovable.  Repeating old mistakes, doing all the wrong things and still worthy of appreciation.  Ugly and impatient and full of so much rage your rational mind can't even make sense of it and still a beautiful, shining human life.  Still you, still whole, still radiant.  That's the fucking work.

On Not Writing For Anyone Else Other Than Your Goddmaned Self

It happens to the best of us: you read a post on Facebook from someone far more successful than you on how to write for your target audience and you wonder: who the fuck is even gonna read this shit?  In the midst of your purely psychotic {read: brilliant} story crafting the thought creeps in, interrupting your progress.

Perhaps in your more lucid moments the thought even turns into actual behavior: market research and analytical journals and the like.  Actual statistical probabilities, scarier-than-thou factoids and analogies designed to scare you straight.  This shit IS real.

But what if that's the whole point?  What if the stuff that comes out of you- the soul juice that you tap into when reality leaves the building and you're left with nothing but the crushing madness of your own existence- what if that's the whole damned point?  

What would you do then?

Would you give a shit about market research and financial logistics and mathematical regressions and trends?  Fucking trends.

Or would you say 'fuck it' and let the crazy, scary, sexy, devourer of mankind loose on the world?  Without judgement.  Without worry.  Without anything other than the pure essence of you.

Because me, personally?  I vote for the latter.

The Not Knowing

So here's the thing: it's not a matter of the right time or the wrong time.  It's a matter of time, as the expression goes.  It's true: we only have a limited amount of it, and we never know how much that is.  Crystal and balls and fortune tellers can't predict it.  We can't see it coming.  And nothing we will ever do will prepare us for the end (which is sort-of the whole point.)

So break the rules.  Kiss the forbidden stranger.  Light the match.  Dance in the moonlight.  Say what you're not supposed to say and do what one should never, ever do.  Be reckless and see what crazy, wonderful things come from it.

But don't- DON'T stifle it.  Don't run from it or ignore and abandon it.  DO IT.  Just take a breathe, and take that leap and see what comes next.

I promise you this: you won't know what it is until you do it.

The Off Days

What if I was good enough even on the off days?  Without doing anything, without accomplishing anything.  With no willpower to get off the couch or check off items on the to do list or catch up on any of the things that need to get done.  With absolutely nothing to show for myself but having breathed in and out all day long- what then?

What if instead of beating up on myself, instead of obsessing over everything not done, instead of listing all of the reasons why I could reasonably hate my lack of progress- what if instead of any of that I just loved myself.  Without judgement, without criticism, without having to earn it.  Just as is, completely off my game.  What if I loved myself instead?

Wouldn't that be a novel idea?

After the Storm

It's weird- no matter how times I do it.  But I don't know of literally anything else on earth as exhausting as shoveling.  I've experienced it before and I think I was just as surprised by it.  But in just a few short hours I am experiencing a level of wiped that can only otherwise be achieved by not sleeping for let's say... three consecutive days.

It's not just the physical exhaustion- although that's definitely remarkable.  The ache in muscles you don't normally use and in every single fiber of your being. But the real head turner is the mental uselessness.  Like anything beyond starting out like a zombie takes more mental faculties than you currently posses.  It's such an odd sensation.

I'm not complaining, just marveling at the phenomenon.

Snowfall

One by one by one
the white dust fills the sky. 
Tiny droplets of ice
free falling onto earth.
A crystal moment in time.

The cold air in your lungs.
The crunch of compressing snow underfoot.
Heavy weight
drags...

But the essential
the indefinable
the memory
is of the quiet.

The impossible stillness
that can only come
in this moment.

Life stands still.
No sound.
No movement.
Save for the falling snow.

And you.

The Seeker- Part 7

 

She was led to the main hall where the light was dimer and the scent of incense encircled her head.  She didn't allow herself to be distracted by the candles or the artwork or the cold stone floor under her bare feet.  She knew better than to judge now, better than to conclude without knowing.  Just look, just listen.

And she was glad- he wasn't what she expected.  Tattoos covered his arms, legs and neck.  His hair was long and unruly and oddly colored.  He didn't have the wise, old eyes of a guru- he had the young, wild eyes of a child.  And rather than the traditional somber robes of the archetype he had rainbow colored  pants and a tank top that read "Wild Thing."  She smirked at herself for thinking he'd be anything different.

"Hey," he said- obscenely casual for such an austere setting.  "How can I help you?"

She sat down before him, assuming her best posture.

"Hey, relax," he said as he himself leaned back on a pillow.

She raised an eyebrow but followed, and her back seemed to explode with gratitude for allowing it to finally rest.  "Thank you."

He looked at her with those wide, wild eyes and waited.  She steadied herself with a breath, and then began:

"I am seeking vidya.  I've been lost in my life, tried so many different things trying to change who I was and I need your help."  There, she'd started.  Her journey could truly begin.

"Do you?" he asked, the same smirk pulling up the corners of his mouth.

"Excuse me?" she asked, irritation creeping into her voice instantly.

"I said, 'Do you?" he said, as if she meant she hadn't heard him.  But the look on his face said that she had and the incredulous expression on hers begged clarification, so he continued.  "It's not easy to get here."

"I know!" she yelled, then instantly shrank back in embarrassment.

"No, no- it's ok.  There's anger in there, you had to go through the fire.  It's cool," he said, sitting up and leaning forward.  "But that's the whole point- you came here.  You faced the fire and the water and the earth.  You breathed the air and listened to the howling wind and saw the light up here- crazy, isn't it?"

She sensed it was a rhetorical question so she said nothing.  But his eager look told her he was looking for an answer.

"Yes, it was- " and she thought about it then, really thought.  Of everything she'd faced, everything she'd sensed, every change she'd surrendered herself to.  "Yes- it's been a wild ride."  And she smiled then, because it really had been.

"Yeah, there you go- it doesn't have to be such a strict ritual.  Seeing is just a state of being, really.  It's just getting out of your own way and living.  It's not what you think it will be, it never is."

And this she heard, this rang true.  "Now we're getting somewhere," she thought.

"Your problem isn't you- it's never been you.  The reason you've been lost is because you've been seeking outside when you needed to look within."

She startled- was he saying he wasn't going to teach her anything?  That she'd traveled all this way for nothing?

"I can see that fire again," he laughed.  "That's a good thing- but listen.  You have what you need within.  You can meditate and study and listen to the wise, old gurus all you want.  But the lessons you need to learn are already inside of you.  You already have what you seek, you just need to get out of your own way."

~

Walking out of the great hall and away from yet another false prophet she felt angrier than she ever had.  So much energy, so much time, so many challenges and for what?  To be told that she already knew everything?  Maddening!

She stormed back to the entrance, past the meditating people, past the rituals and reflections and stopped to pick up her pack.

And then the wind picked up again.  It breathed through her hair, across her skin and down her spine.  She felt the moisture of the snow and the warmth of the sun.  She breathed it in again and her fire cooled.  Her shadow retreated.

And she looked up.  Out at the sun and the air and the landscape, and saw the most breathtaking view she'd ever seen.  She saw the great forest where she'd descended into the earth through ancient roots.  She saw the lake that led to the underground cave where she bathed and moved with freedom.  She saw the field of fire and the leap she'd taken and remembered the promise she'd made to herself.  She saw the fields where the villagers had farmed and remembered the love she'd felt for everything, all things.  She looked out from the top of the mountain and felt the air roaring with the life, saw the light of the sun illuminating the whole world.  And she was overcome by such overwhelming gratitude that it brought her to her knees.

And there she wept.  She wept with love, wept with light, wept with God in her very sobs.  And when she quieted she realized what he had meant.  Look within.  Breathe.  Move and love and feel and steady and leap and cry and see and believe.  All within, and without.  No separation, no disconnection.  Just be.

"Oh," she said to herself.  And laughed.

The Seeker- Part 6

Her ascent was marked with more visions out across the growing expanse of visible land and more affirmations of the power in her voice as she huffed and cursed and joyfully expelled sound into the open air.  She marveled at the strength of her body, so much stronger than she had believed it to be before she embarked on this journey.  She appreciated her legs as they pushed away at the ground, her lungs as they breathed in and out the precious air, her eyes as she looked out at the world around her with wonder and love for all she saw.

So it was almost disappointment that greeted her upon arriving at her destination- so much travel, so many epiphanies only to find herself here at such a familiar scene:

A flat expanse at the top of the rock, thin rugs lain around to soften the hard surface, and rows and rows of the enlightened spread out in front of her.  Their rigid postures with straight back and high head, their hands holding mudras as they rested on their knees, their eyes mostly closed in that un-gaze they were trained to use.  It was instantly intimidating and she faltered, slinking back and struggling with her thoughts.

That old voice came back- you can't do this, you can't be the enlightened person, you're not made of the same stuff.  But she'd learned how to handle that now.  Rather than fighting it she just let it rant.  She breathed, listened to the sound of chanting, focused on her feet underneath her and her body holding firm and waited.

The voice- so full of anger and poison- rattled and ranted and spewed.  And she listened.  And, within a shorter time than she would have expected, it ran out of steam.  The words ran out.  And in the end, she was left with nothing more than that quieter voice she'd been hearing more and more.  Its message was easy and clear: "Just breathe."

She set down her pack, took a seat behind the so-called enlightened masses (which part of her affirmed were there seeking the same exact things as her), closed her eyes, and breathed.  But her body rejected the rigid stance.  Too sore from the climb, too tired for the pose she fidgeted and fretted and moved.  But just as she had with her mind she didn't react- she waited.  She focused on her breath, on the stillness within her, and waited.  And just as her mind had, her body calmed.  She breathed.

She stayed there like that for what seemed like a long time.  But she had no concept of how long, she didn't notice or care.  She just breathed.  And as she did, she noticed a change happen.

The swirl of thoughts and emotions that had erupted upon seeing everyone there seemed to dissipate, weaken and vanish.  The preconceptions she had about why she was here, what she would do, and what it would all mean went away.  And in their place she felt a calm, a renewed sense of purpose, and the same guiding voice that had been there all along.

You can be anything you want to be.   You're not limited to who you were.  You've changed so much since beginning this journey, how could you possibly presume to know where it will lead?  Just listen, just watch with open eyes and mind, and you will see.  You will see.

She opened her eyes and saw clearly.  She saw the light surrounding all of them so far up on this mountain.  She saw the elements which had brought them all there along that same path.  She saw the sky and the clouds and the air and the ether and she breathed it all in.

Then she got up and started off to find the one she'd been seeking.

The Seeker- Part 5

 

She climbed higher into the mountain pass, her determination growing with her strides.  She was feeling bold and strong and connected- but she wasn't.

A gust of wind knocked her clear off her feet and she tumbled over a bolder on the edge, landing slightly further down the rocky surface and taking a scrape on the leg as payment for her troubles.  Anger burst out suddenly and violently as she cursed out loud at her pain, followed by surprise as the sound echoed off the rock walls to her left.

Distracted from the sting she looked up at the high stone face above and around her, and testing, shouted again.

"Hello!" she called, her voice louder and more jubilant than before.

The mountain seemed to repeat her greeting as if on its own accord.  She called again, testing the limits of her sound.  Again the echo bounced her call back.  Soon she was conversing with the stone giant she sat on, call and response flying through the temporarily still air.  She could feel the vibration of the sound reverberating not only off the stone wall, but through the ground itself.  And as it moved she felt that same vibration enter her through her root, up her spine and finally out of her mouth as she called again.  She and the mountain were feeding each other in one continuous, wavering loop of sound.

The wind kicked up again and stole away the echo, replacing it with a screaming wall of air speeding up the mountain.  She peered over the ledge at its source from below and was greeted by a smack of cold, fast sky in her face.  It pulled her hair back from her scalp in a torrent of power and sound.  But she didn't move, she just closed her eyes and let it hit her.  She felt the power and the life again, and the sound in her ears was deafening.

She inhaled and forced the sound again, letting the wind steal it from her lips and join its raging movement up to the heavens.

"Can you hear me?" she screamed.  "I am here!"

And although the wind stole her voice she knew it carried it all the way up the the heavens.

"I am here!" she cried again, watching the colorful wind sweep the sound up and up and up.

And then, without audible sound, she repeated the message to herself:  I am here.  

The Seeker- Part 4

When her feet touched down on the other side and her knees buckled under her weight she felt as though she had passed a point of no return in her journey.  As she stepped forward and worked out the shock from her heels she promised herself that she would not succumb to doubt again, that she would trust that inner voice when it told her where to go, no matter how frightening the prospect.  She left the blackened clearing behind, vowing to simply listen and trust.

Her path took her up into the mountain range she'd seen from the distance, at the top of which dwelt the person she sought.  As she climbed the path the scenery around her erupted with life and her eyes beheld vast fields exploding with plants and food from the nutrient-rich soil.  It was a reminder of how the amazingly destructive power of the lava she'd leapt across could give life to so many things not seen at the source.

She watched as farmers tended those crops, as villagers in the nearby collective cooked them and consumed them, as children danced around the fire where their dinner steamed and grew stronger because of its sustenance.  It was all part of the whole: all valuable, all sacred.

She had an epiphany then, looking out over the life and lives that all relied upon each other.  She realized that she too was whole and that that shadow she'd spent so long fighting and hating was a part of that.  All of her was valuable.  All of her was sacred.  And while she may find herself getting unbalanced at times- while the darker parts of her may have spoken too loudly while the lighter parts were ignored- all of those parts were still a part of her whole.  She was not broken, not lacking, not a thing to be fixed.  She was beautiful.

She felt a growing sensation of warmth and radiant light growing in her chest as she thought these things.  And she felt that energy spreading far beyond the confines of her own body; connecting her not only to the fields and the plants and the animals and the people nearby but back to her family and friends and everyone she had ever held dear- everyone she would ever hold dear.  She realized that she, like the beautiful system of life surrounding her, was intricately and infinitely connected.  Not only was she whole within herself, but she was part of a greater whole that was sustained, fed and rejuvenated by love.

She closed her eyes and breathed then, content for the moment in just being.  Without moving forward, without doing anything.  She felt light and love in the very air around her: the wind whipping across the fields and up the mountain, the breath in her lungs.  She felt boundless and free.

She didn't know how long she stayed there.  It seemed like an eternity and an instant all at once.  But as she resumed her long walk she did so with love in every step.

The Seeker- Part 3

 

It seemed like she'd left the cool, perfect waters so long ago it was difficult to imagine that she'd only been moving for a day.  The climb that followed the emergence from the lake was brutal and tested her resolve with every step.  There were slips and cuts as her feet slid from the missteps or her hands fumbled the grab and it occurred to her that she was fighting with more than just the terrain.

Before long the texture of the rock changed: it was softer, sandier and her hands turned black as she pushed herself up.  As she rose the temperature of the air seemed to rise with her and soon there was steam and the scent of smoke in her nostrils.  Her body began to sweat and the salty liquid felt rejuvenating somehow- like things she really needed out of her body were making their exit through her pores.

She pushed onward, not knowing what was coming next but not daring to indulge those thoughts nipping at the edge of her consciousness.  She focused on the movement and the strength in her muscles.  She kept her mind occupied with the sensory input of a world so strange and yet somehow so familiar to experiences she'd had inside of her own body.

Before long she came out of the caverns and a field of black lay before her.  Setting eyes on it she now understood the heat and the steam and the faint scent of sulfur.  Her feet seemed to bounce on the soft black surface made from years and years of dried and hardened lava flow.  In the distance she could see the mountains she was promised when she set out and the sight drove her forward across the alien expanse.  Steam vents erupted around her and her feet ached from the long climb but she kept on, willing herself to stay true to her cause.

Until she came to the river.  Not one of water, but of fire.  A deep slit in the ground and a flow of magma stretched across her entire path.  It was here that the fear she'd kept at bay through movement finally erupted in full force and claimed her, pushing her back and finally laying her flat on the ground.  She lay there, panting and despairing, and let herself feel the emotion in all its horror.

But that voice which had been with her from the beginning, the one growing in volume with each step she took on her journey, came back again.  "Just look around," it said.  A calm, practical step to take in the midst of such confusion and terror.

She pushed off her pack and looked around- scanning first the edges of the rock, and then further in each direction.  There must be a bridge of hardened magma somewhere, or some narrowing of the gap where she could safely step across.  But as far as she could see there was nothing: no bridge to cross, no safe passage, no break to the unrelenting flow of molten heat.

As panic began to seize her very cells she started running in desperate hope of the view changing- surely it couldn't go on like this forever?  But her legs gave out long before the perpetually retreating end ever came.  She collapsed again, this time for good.

And in her hopeless, defeated state she couldn't fight it any longer- her shadow emerged in all its savage, merciless power.

"What were you thinking?  Of course you can't do this- what an idiot you must have been to even attempt it.  Now you'll have to go all the way back and tell the story of your failure to everyone who asks.  You defective ruin, you weak fool, you useless waste of life..."

She surrendered to it, as the waters had taught her to.  And as she lay there breathing, baking in the heat from the harsh river near foot and not fighting something changed.  That voice, so full of mighty, unyielding power, seemed to fade.  Without her pushing back the dam broke and the hatred flowed out of her.  It seemed to her that she could almost feel it hit the burning surface of the river and join its flow- on to wherever it may lead.

And in the aftermath of such an extreme emptying, shaking and purified and finally free, she had a thought: what if I just jump?

She sat up slowly and took a breath.  The heat of the molten flow hit her in the face but she was no longer afraid of it.  It was made of the same material as she and she knew that without fear she could live in unison with that force, she could even use that power to fuel her.  She stood up and walked the long way back to her pack, watching the flowing light against the obsidian shore.  She mounted her pack onto her shoulders and noted how much lighter it seemed now, how much more easily she moved.

She gingerly crept to the edge and measured the gap in her mind.  Fear bubbled up again, a little trickle of alarm, and listed the facts: her legs were tired, she was exhausted, she might not make it across.  But she didn't argue, she just listened and watched.

And in that space she found her true voice again.  It told her that in order to grow she must leave what she knew behind.  In order to become she had to shed what she was.  "Just jump," it told her.

So she did. 

Gatekeeper of the Heart

It feels weird to have the title of "Reiki Master" after such a short time learning and practicing.  Like I'm claiming a role I can't fill yet.  But I guess that's the whole point- yet.

In martial arts they say that achieving black belt is the beginning of your training.  I guess this is the same thing- my journey officially begins today.  I can't even begin to imagine where it will lead me...