Conversations and practices that inspire people to experience themselves as the Divine-embodied may very well be the planet’s next Saving Grace. I recognize that globally people are awakening to the experience of the body (and all of Life) as a projection of the Divine and the Divine as Ultimate Benevolence. This awakening may very well be the perfect remedy for so many present-day ailments.
When one person steps into the Light, others remember and can embody their own God-ness as well. When one person recognizes in every circumstance the opportunity to dance with the Divine, then others can too see that even personal suffering can be the perfect escort to the Light. This knowledge frees people of the illusion that pain and suffering are bad or wrong and reveals instead that each moment is ripe with God, with Truth, with Beauty.
I share this after months of wrestling a great alligator of isolation and loneliness, sadness and depression while living in a Latin third-world city with a language barrier, no job and a fiance who travels often. However, long ago I decided that I would wrestle all of life's alligators with courage til I found God in their teeth and tails, until I found God in the darkness and hurt.
This seems to be tremendous part of my path at this point: refusing to back down until I am once again joined with the Lightness of Being that comes from living consciously with Grace.
When we stand in the knowledge that every second holds within it the perfect chemistry for Divine Union, then we become seekers of God in everything. Life - all it’s colors, shapes and forms - transforms into a giant game of hide and seek. Where is God here? Where is Grace there?
This is one way to Open to Grace: invite Grace to reveal Herself in ALL things, not just the obvious happy ones (like puppies and kittens and sunset walks on the beach).
Seeking and finding Grace in all things frees us from being trapped in the past or from fantasizing about futures yet to be known. When we are committed to knowing God through all things then we immediately arrive Here and NOW. Here and NOW we can receive the Grace that has always been holding us up, that has always been our very essence.
Our freedom can at once become a great service to others. And their freedom becomes a great service back to us and to all people.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Bouncing After They Fall
KA-BOOM!
at once
this loneliness exploded
into thunder
reverberating off
the face of my heart
6 months in a foreign land
self expression
has been reduced to
“hola” and “adios”
fucking pleasantries
don’t focus on the dark
says the soft voice of a distant sun
but i am obsessed with my storm
i only watch one channel -
my inner-bad-weather channel
okay, then focus on the darkness,
but know that you’re suffering
at your own hands
get out! get out!
go play in the actual rain
revel in actual thunder
be blinded by actual lightening -
not this head-made fantasy shit
my circling clouds
have become my habit
and then my black dog
in a tornado of crazy joy
with the enthusiasm of creature
absent of an inner-bad-weather channel
tosses a crushed plastic bottle
up in the air
to himself
and catches it
and tosses it
and catches it
again and again
his body bouncing
like raindrops
when they meet the earth
bouncing after they fall
bouncing after they fall
at once
this loneliness exploded
into thunder
reverberating off
the face of my heart
6 months in a foreign land
self expression
has been reduced to
“hola” and “adios”
fucking pleasantries
don’t focus on the dark
says the soft voice of a distant sun
but i am obsessed with my storm
i only watch one channel -
my inner-bad-weather channel
okay, then focus on the darkness,
but know that you’re suffering
at your own hands
get out! get out!
go play in the actual rain
revel in actual thunder
be blinded by actual lightening -
not this head-made fantasy shit
my circling clouds
have become my habit
and then my black dog
in a tornado of crazy joy
with the enthusiasm of creature
absent of an inner-bad-weather channel
tosses a crushed plastic bottle
up in the air
to himself
and catches it
and tosses it
and catches it
again and again
his body bouncing
like raindrops
when they meet the earth
bouncing after they fall
bouncing after they fall
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
My Mind (When She is Well-Behaved)
She’s a child-like ‘old soul’.
Her definition of Power is Love.
She will not follow blindly.
She will follow beauty.
She succeeds in academic settings.
She thrives in nature.
She’s not that good at spelling.
She’s really good at ‘meaning’.
She’d rather evolve than be right.
She’s down for the challenge.
She loves a good question more than a good answer.
She’s also loves sun bathing at Barton Springs while the sun graces her chest and navel.
She loves to learn through touch, music, movement and breathing.
In fact, she learns best through these vehicles.
She’s a Truth-chaser often tumbling down the metaphorical rabbit hole, cascading into inner worlds, exploring new-found lands and drinking tea with the interesting characters she meets.
She pays attention and takes a lot of notes.
She’s been kneaded by loving hands who knew how to “work her” just right and let her to rise.
She’s fearless when it comes to expressing herself. This sometimes gets her in trouble.
She’s not a fan of confrontation, but she’ll stand her ground.
She’s almost always down for “talking it out”.
She’s willing to call out her own bullshit.
She’s communicates with kindness.
She is willing to forgive.
She feels safe to cry.
She loves to laugh.
She has quirks too:
sometimes thinks she’s fat, even though she’s not
sometimes she gets crazy angry in traffic - a sort of turrets effect
sometimes she gets real hard on herself for not yet saving all the children in africa and for other ‘human shortcomings’.
She is inspired by people who have symbiotic relationships with Forces greater than themselves.
She is inspired by just about everything Nature gives birth too.
She walks the tightrope, balancing between two poles: Humanity and Divinity.
She enjoys the company of people who are smarter than her.
She has yet to get enthusiastic about math...but she’s not a quitter.
She can spend hours with poetry in one hand and her dog, Lizzy, in the other.
She’s listens for Grace.
She listens to Grace.
She’ll always listen, eventually.
Her definition of Power is Love.
She will not follow blindly.
She will follow beauty.
She succeeds in academic settings.
She thrives in nature.
She’s not that good at spelling.
She’s really good at ‘meaning’.
She’d rather evolve than be right.
She’s down for the challenge.
She loves a good question more than a good answer.
She’s also loves sun bathing at Barton Springs while the sun graces her chest and navel.
She loves to learn through touch, music, movement and breathing.
In fact, she learns best through these vehicles.
She’s a Truth-chaser often tumbling down the metaphorical rabbit hole, cascading into inner worlds, exploring new-found lands and drinking tea with the interesting characters she meets.
She pays attention and takes a lot of notes.
She’s been kneaded by loving hands who knew how to “work her” just right and let her to rise.
She’s fearless when it comes to expressing herself. This sometimes gets her in trouble.
She’s not a fan of confrontation, but she’ll stand her ground.
She’s almost always down for “talking it out”.
She’s willing to call out her own bullshit.
She’s communicates with kindness.
She is willing to forgive.
She feels safe to cry.
She loves to laugh.
She has quirks too:
sometimes thinks she’s fat, even though she’s not
sometimes she gets crazy angry in traffic - a sort of turrets effect
sometimes she gets real hard on herself for not yet saving all the children in africa and for other ‘human shortcomings’.
She is inspired by people who have symbiotic relationships with Forces greater than themselves.
She is inspired by just about everything Nature gives birth too.
She walks the tightrope, balancing between two poles: Humanity and Divinity.
She enjoys the company of people who are smarter than her.
She has yet to get enthusiastic about math...but she’s not a quitter.
She can spend hours with poetry in one hand and her dog, Lizzy, in the other.
She’s listens for Grace.
She listens to Grace.
She’ll always listen, eventually.
The World Comes From Us
Three months ago...
“The world does not come at us. The world comes from us.”
Like an old childhood lullaby, I instantly remembered these words when I heard them. They were not news to me. I had heard these words for years from the voice within my heart.
Most recently I have been holding those words up to the reality of living in a third world country. And not just a third world country, but a third world city. And not just a third world city, but the largest third world city in this country.
Ah, San Jose, Costa Rica.
In San Jose there are people who make a living by risking their life helping you back-out of your parking space into oncoming traffic. God bless them - really, please bless them, God. There are people here who make a living collecting other people's garbage and reselling it on the sidewalk - old broken toy phones, half-used packages of stained napkins, batteries (used, of course), electronic cords for missing electronic devices, etc.
Here both sides of the economic spectrum are well represented: the ricos and the povres. The ricos live in houses surrounded by large cement walls adorned with barbed wire and the povres live in houses surrounded by thin metal bars adorned with barbed wire. There’s a saying here, “The one thing the rich and poor have in common is that they both live imprisoned in their homes while the criminal run ‘free’ in the streets.”
So how do I - in this third world city - implement this deep knowing that ‘the world does not come at me...the world comes from me’?
Because the truth is that a lot of fear has also been coming from me lately.
The fear has been brought on by not being able to speak Spanish, not being able to drive without envisioning the worst or not being able to walk alone at night or make my way to the other side of the city or avoid the dagger-like male gaze or avoid the toxic fumes of every passing truck or express myself authentically to anyone but Evan.
It seems the more fear that comes from me, the scarier the world becomes.
It’s a tremendously uncomfortable feeling to go from existing is a relative state of ‘fearlessness’ in Austin to feeling cloaked (from within and without) in a heavy dark veil of fear. Fear, which could also be discussed as ‘insecurity’, uproots any and all ability to rest, relax, trust, have faith, be calm or be quiet. And, as a yoga teacher, I long ago began making my living and building my life upon my ability to rest, relax, trust, have faith and be calm and quiet.
Who am I if I am in fear? Or rather where did ‘I’ (the one who once lived without fear) go? And where did my old free-of-suffocating-fear reality go? Are my fears legitimate and not to be downplayed or are my fears giving rise to the growing disdain and discomfort in the world o' San Jose? Is it me? Is it my environment? Is it both? Am I creating my own reality? Is my reality creating me to be a fearful person?
Today...
Some months have passed since the largest of my fears were gobbling up my light. During that time I began to learn Spanish. I knew nothing of Spanish before moving to Costa Rica. Nada. No-thing. Not a lick. So along with learning the language came the ability to once again express myself. Granted I can not express myself ‘profoundly’ or ‘poetically’ as I did in the states - but I can express bits and pieces of heart, parts that have not seen the light of days for months.
Interestingly, as soon as I began to express myself everything in my world changed before my eyes. The world does not come at me. The world comes from me.
It’s not that the city suddenly became clean or crime-free or that the men became any less macho or that the buses gave off any less black smoke, no, it’s that I was no longer imprisoned by my inability to communicate. I was no longer trapped behind a verbal cement wall decorated with barbed wire. I was no longer imprisoned by my inability to express myself through the medium of my art - language.
In the same moment that my inner light was finally able to once again shine out through the gift of language and communication - in Spanish - the big dirty city ceased to be so big and dirty. Instead the city of San Jose became the home of many dear friends and fellow teachers, the place where I was brought to my knees with humility for anyone who ever moved to a foreign country and couldn’t speak the language, the perfect contrast to the comfortable passivity that so many of us get stuck in at certain times in our lives.
So does the world come at us or from us? What are your thoughts?
Deep Humble Love.
“The world does not come at us. The world comes from us.”
Like an old childhood lullaby, I instantly remembered these words when I heard them. They were not news to me. I had heard these words for years from the voice within my heart.
Most recently I have been holding those words up to the reality of living in a third world country. And not just a third world country, but a third world city. And not just a third world city, but the largest third world city in this country.
Ah, San Jose, Costa Rica.
In San Jose there are people who make a living by risking their life helping you back-out of your parking space into oncoming traffic. God bless them - really, please bless them, God. There are people here who make a living collecting other people's garbage and reselling it on the sidewalk - old broken toy phones, half-used packages of stained napkins, batteries (used, of course), electronic cords for missing electronic devices, etc.
Here both sides of the economic spectrum are well represented: the ricos and the povres. The ricos live in houses surrounded by large cement walls adorned with barbed wire and the povres live in houses surrounded by thin metal bars adorned with barbed wire. There’s a saying here, “The one thing the rich and poor have in common is that they both live imprisoned in their homes while the criminal run ‘free’ in the streets.”
So how do I - in this third world city - implement this deep knowing that ‘the world does not come at me...the world comes from me’?
Because the truth is that a lot of fear has also been coming from me lately.
The fear has been brought on by not being able to speak Spanish, not being able to drive without envisioning the worst or not being able to walk alone at night or make my way to the other side of the city or avoid the dagger-like male gaze or avoid the toxic fumes of every passing truck or express myself authentically to anyone but Evan.
It seems the more fear that comes from me, the scarier the world becomes.
It’s a tremendously uncomfortable feeling to go from existing is a relative state of ‘fearlessness’ in Austin to feeling cloaked (from within and without) in a heavy dark veil of fear. Fear, which could also be discussed as ‘insecurity’, uproots any and all ability to rest, relax, trust, have faith, be calm or be quiet. And, as a yoga teacher, I long ago began making my living and building my life upon my ability to rest, relax, trust, have faith and be calm and quiet.
Who am I if I am in fear? Or rather where did ‘I’ (the one who once lived without fear) go? And where did my old free-of-suffocating-fear reality go? Are my fears legitimate and not to be downplayed or are my fears giving rise to the growing disdain and discomfort in the world o' San Jose? Is it me? Is it my environment? Is it both? Am I creating my own reality? Is my reality creating me to be a fearful person?
Today...
Some months have passed since the largest of my fears were gobbling up my light. During that time I began to learn Spanish. I knew nothing of Spanish before moving to Costa Rica. Nada. No-thing. Not a lick. So along with learning the language came the ability to once again express myself. Granted I can not express myself ‘profoundly’ or ‘poetically’ as I did in the states - but I can express bits and pieces of heart, parts that have not seen the light of days for months.
Interestingly, as soon as I began to express myself everything in my world changed before my eyes. The world does not come at me. The world comes from me.
It’s not that the city suddenly became clean or crime-free or that the men became any less macho or that the buses gave off any less black smoke, no, it’s that I was no longer imprisoned by my inability to communicate. I was no longer trapped behind a verbal cement wall decorated with barbed wire. I was no longer imprisoned by my inability to express myself through the medium of my art - language.
In the same moment that my inner light was finally able to once again shine out through the gift of language and communication - in Spanish - the big dirty city ceased to be so big and dirty. Instead the city of San Jose became the home of many dear friends and fellow teachers, the place where I was brought to my knees with humility for anyone who ever moved to a foreign country and couldn’t speak the language, the perfect contrast to the comfortable passivity that so many of us get stuck in at certain times in our lives.
So does the world come at us or from us? What are your thoughts?
Deep Humble Love.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Look and Listen
Have you ever heard a moth dream of being more than brown?Or the honeysuckle demand rent from the butterfly?
Have you ever heard a tree bad mouth a mountain?
Or a bird sing, “For $100k the sky can be yours!”?
Have you ever seen a river run for tighter thighs?
Or a beaver constructing an investment fund?
Have you ever heard a hummingbird tweet,
"Hey! Hey! It’s all about me!"
Or a cloud complain that it will soon be gone?
Thursday, April 7, 2011
She Wears 'Woman'
She wear 'Woman'
like I wear my pajamas,
comfortable in her hips
comfortable in her breasts.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
One of my favorites...
AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
~ By Portia Nelson
I.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in
I am lost . . . I am helpless
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place,
but it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in . . . it’s a habit.
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V.
I walk down another street.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
~ By Portia Nelson
I.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in
I am lost . . . I am helpless
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
II.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place,
but it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in . . . it’s a habit.
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV.
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V.
I walk down another street.
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