Saturday, December 25, 2010

What do I know

What do I know about love?

I know deep within me when it happens that door opening with a force, it takes my voice and breath away and .... nothing is as it was before
How much it takes to shove that door closed again, to dull the light, to deaden the breath
and it will never be closed fully

So many ways of loving, so many loves
Being called to love and loving
Being a lover to loves, submerging and dissolving
Shaping, creating and seeing

Faith that love arises no matter where
Adjusting to seeing and taking in love from anywhere and everywhere
Letting myself be filled

Love is seeing other and self
and still loving

Love is to give up what one most wants for the sake of that want taking flight,
for the sake of letting a creation that wants to happen, happen,
of letting a journey that wants to happen, take shape
with or without one self
how beautiful if it could be together

Always beholding both
Love and loss
Love and grief
Love and anger
Love and sadness
Love and life and death

Love is dreaming of my life as I am becoming

My dance - bringing anew

When I find my own dance I shine, I am brilliant as me, I dance the way no other can
I am not trying on someone else's dance, making it fit but creating me
I am the dance, I am me
And that dance feels so real and right and sweet
That dance is drawing me in and out and to me
When I find my own expression, I will say what nobody else has said before and how nobody has said it before
When I find my own seeing and holding and dancing into and within my body, I will see and embody and dance into the world what has never been there before

That then is everybody's and my gift, to being anew

For at any instant that newness has a chance of meeting openness,
A moment in time where others can hear differently, as I bring differently
A moment in time when seeing new and dancing new happens
A present that has never been there before
and the future is forever changed.

Bursting forth

What a revelation
I can sing, sing with such joy, it is bringing tears to my eyes
My lungs cannot contain enough breath to let out all I have inside, all the song and exuberance, all the melody and energy
My fullness is bursting forth, erupting, emerging, waving, vibrating into space, rippling out and merging with other ripples
For that is what song is, voice in motion, soul in vibration, joining others, joining the world, breath air mixing with breath and air, life mixing with life
Looks of recognition
A different language, so ancient, we recognize and know it
My whole body is transformed as I sing
Every cell of my body is coming into synchronicity within myself and outside of myself
The range of high and low notes, loud and soft ones feeling like water
I can taste the notes, melting, shaping in my body

Love taking flight

When love unfolds, its wings are beyond measure
The night air itself is transformed
Soft, yielding and speckled with sparks of energy and passion
Water, earth, fire and air becoming one
The diamond of energy has taken shape
A new form is found

Wednesday, December 8, 2010


What simple insight and how important:

I can't see or hear or prepare myself into dance, I can only dance myself into dance

I can't push myself into softness and flow, I can only soften myself into softness, flow into flow

I can't think or strategize or wish or ask or muscle or please or negotiate myself into love, I can only love myself into love

I can't  personalize, balancing the give and take myself into caring, I can only care myself into caring, constantly deeply seeing the I/You and the we

I can't pushing- out words and thoughts, taking-over with excitement, sharing waterfall-like, gushing revelations myself into closeness, I can only move myself close into closeness and give space to other to come close

I can't predict, analyze, hope, predispose myself into attunement, I have to attune myself into attunement

I can't straighten, walk, dress, speak, hear, listen myself into that flamenco wild gypsy, that feminine woman being, I can only flamenco, belly-dance, salsa, ballet-dance, sing myself into it, know that flamenco gypsy is in me and know it into being

I can't bits and pieces, fits and starts myself into the mystery, my journey, I can only throw myself into, surround myself with, mystify myself into the journey, into the mystery

I can't protect, measure, deliberate myself into fullness, I can only fill myself or let myself be filled into fullness

I can't figure out, anticipate, cleverly argue, postpone, worry myself into what is possible, I can only live the possible, live it as if it were already a reality, as if it were already here, not just that, that is is here. Without another thought - just act, be, feel that way.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Traveling alone

What joy there is in traveling alone
Attuning to my self and around
Listening in and out
Moving where I am being called to
Open in such a self-confident way
Being seen as self instead of part of a whole or bounded construct or overlaid with assumptions about how to approach, how open I would be

And that chuckle in me that, finally, what is also coming out is my little defiant, determine child that says “let me do it alone, my way” “I can do it on my own”
Adjusting my pace to my own inner drives,
An acute sense about safety, risk-taking and courage
When to linger, when to create an impenetrable membrane, when to look up and when to keep my head down, my gaze guarded
When to fill up fully, drink in, when to just take a quick sip and move on

Brief connections with women, children, and some men about shared experiences, we exchange knowing glances and smiles
With women, there is always recognition of strength, shared joy and compassion, of sisterhood and being out, being in fully, of showing up

The noise is different; it is a harmony or orchestra to attune to.  Without another to really bring home, fixate, presence, drive down possible complains or impatience or judgment, any such notions pass over me so swiftly, so lightly, nothing remains.

My energy is focused on here and on the next here, on moments of connection that arise so surprisingly, so sweetly, that keeping or staying in place with anything that darkens me or makes me rigid is not possible.

Traveling along is moving with and in, it is swaying with, connecting with such small moments and with the largest whole beyond me, us, this moment.

Monday, November 22, 2010

A midnight swim

Gliding through the water
The moon crescent above
Frangipani flowers raining onto the water
Steam rising like fairy-tale mist from the surface
As I part the water’s surface, the waves circle in ever expanding soft undulating hills, creamy, velvety soft.
To the side of me and behind me and when I turn back, nothing is untouched anymore, there is no before or after, in front or behind.
All sense of time, direction and separation dissolves into the magic of this night.

Indian traffic – surrendering into the flow

The taxi I am sitting in on this Delhi morning on my way to the Ghandi memorial and the red fort feels sturdy, a hardy bulwark, the constant, loud honking is in concert with all the other vehicles, pedestrians, bicycles, rickshaws, tuk-tuks, busses, trucks, vendors. The ring road is well-structured, organized, manicured, somewhat predictable.  Then we turn into old Delhi.

A smaller road, commerce, businesses, goats being sold on the sidewalk, carried over the shoulders of small men and smaller boys, led through the traffic.  Men cross the street, indicating to rushing, oncoming cars to slow down – they do or they push other cars out of the way to flow around the men.  The men rush or slow down but never stop and they don’t seem worried.  I wonder how often accidents actually happen.

Then we turn into a back street, of course against oncoming traffic and I am being transferred to a bicycle rickshaw.  Now immersion really begins.  My driver is so hardy, so small, so tenacious, so sinewy.  He is right in the middle of everything bigger than he is, than we are. Motorbikes honk, busses stop apruptly and jump lanes in front of us, cars squeeze us in from both sides, hardly leaving room, just millimeters so as not to get scratched.  The traffic gets denser and denser and the variety of traffic participants increases. Now a camel joins, motorbikes, taxis, SUVs, more vendors and goats crossing.

At first, I feel so heavy, so colonial, so big behind that small driver.  I feel as if everybody is looking at me and judging me.  I feel in the way. Glad to be dresses in long pants and a conservative shirt. And, I feel so vulnerable but that eases. Then, I amaze myself, my feet are not pushing the imaginary brake pedal, I don’t clutch anything. Making sure no body part is leaving the imaginary boundaries of the rickshaw. Planting my feet very solidly.  I am relaxed, trusting whatever flows outside us, around us, to continue doing so without crushing us.  It has been this way and will continue to be this way for a long, long time.

I look around and notice so much.  The passengers in the bus are so crowded, carrying bags, holding on with blank expressions, the goat vendors, people sleeping on the sidewalk, some covered completely by tarps or cloth, some curled up without anything. A man is retching, another weaving his way unsteadily around broken pavement. Tourists are buying peanuts and cool drinks.

And then I just am, with this moment. I sit up straighter and my confidence sets in. It is what is is. This is not taking place for the first time – what a release to surrender, to yield. What enjoyment, a bit of giddiness, a bit of serenity.  This trip to and fro is more memorable to me, more etched into my being than any of the tourist attractions I am heading for.

Friday, November 12, 2010


What is it about this slow un-meshing, that separation, that unbending, untwisting, unfolding that is so hard, takes so long, is in itself a coming and going?

It happens at all levels, physical, soul, mind, energetically, changing the way of keeping space for and within.

It's like a fire that keeps reigniting itself but the flames are not as high, not as soaring, don't last as long before they fall back into glowing embers again.  The times between ignitions increases, the heat of the flames, the glow of the embers gets less and less.  It's like leaving happens before it has been thought of, thought into being.

Leaving is like removing tentacles, strings, lightwaves, tapestry strands one by one.  There are so many. And yet, the act of removing them is in itself an act of coming together, coming closer, for if they are too stretched, they can't be unhooked.

Leaving is like doing and undoing, like making happen and unhappen, like writing and re-writing history.  What is it about leaving that always leaves the sense of doing it too early or too late? Of doing it to someone or having it done to?

And at the best of times, there's a leaving that is also a returning,
a leaving to be able to come together more fully;
always knowing the risk of moving away too far to do so or with the knowledge that coming together again is meant to be;
always knowing that doubting develops a momentum of its own, that we can think and intent something into being.

Fall temple

The tall slender trees are framing both sides of the forest road.
They are so regal in their bearing.
The top branches are arching into a vaulted ceiling.
Leaves are already on the ground, smaller tress are filling in the spaces.
All is golden, orange, brown with bold shapes of grey and black.

The sky is turning pink from the early sunset, enhancing the red colors, the golden colors, the orange colors.
Like candles having been lit everywhere, that warm, vibrant, luminous glow.
And even though I am outside, I feel like I am inside.
Inside a temple, a cathedra, a architecture so perfect, that boundaries are redefined and cease to exist.

I am fully awake, taking in all that is around me with all my sense and all my being.
A path veers off, more golden archways leading into the distance.
A meadow, offering a glimpse of the sky, surrounded by curtains made of fall colored trees, drawn to show a design bar none.

I walk, no flow through this magic place, hardly believing my luck to be here, in this moment.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

The flavors of togetherness

What flavors would togetherness have?

I sense it would have the taste of chocolate.  Smooth, dark, silky chocolate, melting on one's tongue, having an almost citrusy taste, lingering for a long time, very little exploding in deep flavors.

There would also be the comforting, solid, creamy, fresh flavor of vanilla.

And passionfruit.  That burst of full, ripe, fruity sweetness that tastes of exotic places which carry a promise of adventure and sensuousness and passion, full of life.

There would be something unexpected like mint or ginger or green team enticing, so bold it awes and bursts out, healing, speaking of travels past and future

Of course some chili - spicy, tangy, spiking passion and energy, causing excitement and even a little pain if too much is added - but well worth it

And cinnamon as reminder of the seasons, memories of gatherings, of outdoors and indoors, of lifetimes lived.

What a bouquet of flavors to lean into, yield to, play with and love. I can taste it all.

The best of partners

Looking into each other, looking out together, dancing, walking, being as one.

Scanning, intuiting, knowing, tracking, responding

Listening, respecting, honoring, refining

Co-creating, building onto, adding perspective

Blending, bumping into, sharpening, mirroring

Being patient, having fun, being sincere, caring, growing and supporting growth

Awed by each others gifts, enhancing gifts

Looking at each other without turning away, without tightening or stopping or over-flooding

Able to hold each others gaze with deep knowing, into the depths of each others eyes and beyond without too much or too little, not to long or too short, disengaging and engaging in synchronicity

Loving, moving forward boldly

Trusting, defining space, giving space, taking space

Anticipating, excitedly discovering new and relishing the old

Appreciative and grateful,  always knowing that together will be better than without,
that the space created for others can be held and shaped into something sacred, something that allows those within the space to grow and envision themselves beyond what they thought possible

Holding anger and disappointment, saying what real without fear of moving or pushing or pulling away

Knowing hurt might happen and it will be just a bump in the road

Walking new roads and bringing those discoveries back

Learning with and from each other, curious, interested, bringing those gifts to the world - together.

Saturday, October 30, 2010


Energy is bubbling up in big, colorful, shimmering bubbles,
floating through my body and out
bubbles big and getting bigger
out of my eyes, my pores, my heart, my skin,
just oozing out, flying out
Smile on my face
A life force not directed at anything or anyone
just bubbling out
they don't pop, just float

Effervescent water
sparkling, expanding my chest, belly and breathing
giggles within the bubbles
laughter so hard and big I will cry and roll on the floor
Girls laughter, bear laughter, wild cat laughter, shouting laughter, singing laughter, shaking laughter, gleeful laughter

Tears of gratitude for this moment, this space, this time

I am able to scoop up the world and dance with it inside my stream of bubbles
spiraling upward and out
Exuberance unnecessary to contain rather to expand and enfold
I am here in my body and am as large as the world

I am seeing bubble everywhere
Imagine the world, each and every being floating, merging, separating, bubbles within larger bubbles
Streams of bubbles like millions of children - honorary adult children included - blowing bubbles
Like divers coming back to the surface in the stream of bubbles, after that magical trip to an anciently familiar world

Can you see it? Can you hear it? Can you feel it?

A cheeky morning (what if we started a campaign...)

I am feeling cheeky this morning

What if we started a "blow bubbles" campaign?
Everything would have to be held lightly, playfully, vibrantly
Every life force honored and given the change to join the stream, to be revered for its beauty and be a necessary , vital part
To be able to fly and float and be appreciated
Pointed at excitedly, with awe and delight

What if we started a laughter campaign?
Everybody would have to relate through laughter and smiles
Laughs from the belly, from the toes, from the heart, from the soul, from the lungs
Kind, knowing smiles
Sexy, thrilling, desiring smiles
Appreciative, honoring smiles
Generous, indulgent chuckles
Roaring, ear popping laughs
Grieving, holding, soft-eyed smiles that are held in ones soul and rarely leave ones eyes
Inviting, welcoming, " I can't wait for you to get here" and "I am so glad you are here" smiles, broad and shy ones
Trusting, sharing responsibility, joining smiles
Joyful, expectant, "don't know what to do with all my excitement" laughs, those laughs that ramp up and make everything possible
Resolute smiles that can move mountains

What if we started a "dance, sing and run whenever we are called to do so" campaign?
What energies would be released?
What illnesses cured?
What aches soothed?
What new languages would we discover and ancient ones remember?
What knowing would we trust again and use?
How would we touch each other?
How much laughter would be heard?
How would spaces change and expand?
How would we see each other differently?
How would our and our children's bodies, voices and souls be?

What if we started a "honoring stillness" campaign?
Anytime, anywhere, anyplace,
settling into, letting be, being with, coming out of stillness,
alone, together
Drawing energy, clarity, quality of relationships...

What's time to campaign.

Monday, October 25, 2010

My solo (soul) spot

4 days
1 day of searching, of being called to, of letting come to,
3 days of arriving and being... solo, blessedly alone and never lonely
Safe and found.
Relinquishing those tethers one by one
Finding my solo spot to be in and to take in
What is this spot that is waiting for me? Calling for me?
Did I dream it into being?
It has been within me all this time
and it will be in my heart and soul to be my refuge,
my place to go to to stay wild,
to be my promise to myself and the world, the one that it will kill me to break,
a reminder of what was, is and will be possible.
As I move from that wild world into this world,
as I am in-between,
making forays, getting overwhelmed and exhausted,
getting excited and sweet and joyful,
my solo spot is here with me.
Like one of those glass bubbles that has cities and landscapes inside and I can turn it over to let it snow.
The energy of the mountain cat on those ledges and in those caves
The energy of the forest and the sweet meadow queens and maidens
The energies of the aspens and proud pine trees, calling on kestrels to visit and perch and on cave bears to lumber and meander along
The stream with foxes and deers emerging from the branches and sun-dappled leaves
The water trickling with just enough fluidity to create and sustain life, curtains falling over stones, soaking into lush grass, remembering this raging river that could be.
The energies of the unrelenting sun, the moon, the rocks reflecting back the warmth stored during the day to keep me warm at night.
Tree trunks, shapes, looming rock creatures, all available in this bubble of my new and old solo soul spot.

The Council

So, this is what adults are like
Listening with the ears of the heart
Speaking from the heart
Being concise,
Being spontaneous
Letting questions arise that open growth for the one next to us
Knowing how much space to take and to give
Trusting it will be just right
Seeing with compassion, with soft eyes
Seeing with eyes that hold the possibilities of each other and the necessity of the journey
Letting be and being with
Co-creating and joining while being respectful, mindful, excited about each individual's creation
Knowing the whole has to hold the parts and the parts the whole - and it cannot be otherwise
Taking in , accessing what is available around us, through us and within us.
Encouraging, being patient, mirroring, acknowledging, respecting, listening for all that is said and unsaid and doesn't have to be said with human voice.
Knowing when completion has happened.
Knowing when space has to be held for a beginning to take place.
So, that's what adults are like.
Looking into each others' eyes without flinching, without protecting, with unwavering love and peace
Diving into each others' souls without fearing depletion or being devoured or devouring the other
So that's what adults are like.
Stepping up fully to that what asks to be revealed, to be promised, to be lived into action - no more and no less.


It is over
No more more looking over one's shoulder to see who might be watching and who not
Who might be saying or thinking what
No more holding breath
No more keeping small
Just deliberate, discerning, distinct revealing with conviction
Grounded in that inner being and knowing that what has been birthed cannot be undone again.
And yet... fearing that it might...
Tracking when and where the letting out and living into the world is being stopped, pushed down, held in, tightened, reversed.
Spontaneously following intuition, insight from another time and place.
And hoping that my new knowing will be enough
My new knowing that who I vigilantly look over my shoulder for me.

The Kiva

Down, down into the earth
From the light into the warm, dark yet neuminous round
swirling, whirling, spiraling, twirling, crawling, clawing, crying, singing, chanting, howling beings
Giving voice
Visiting, welcoming, pushing through, dancing around
Inviting, challenging, poking through, emerging, daring to show themselves, finally free
Pulsating with the drum beat (creating their own heartbeat),
creating rhythms, weaving together, separating, joining again
Becoming same, becoming different, changing shapes
Voices freed from shapes, shapes freed from voices.
Beginnings of journeys, endings of journeys, births and deaths.
Entering and leaving, discovering, uncovering and burying.
Recognition and surprises.
The opening to the underworld pushed fully open
The view of the upperworld in plain sight
Communing with each other and with self
Communing with this reality, this space and the spaces beyond.
Holding self and each other in this and other worlds.
Leaving judgement and definitions to evaporate into the swirling, to make space to hold the whole.
Walking back up the ladder, reshaped, reboned, revoiced, remade or...
as the one and the other.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Child of woman, woman of child to be

Child of war, woman of peace
Child of terror, woman of safety and beauty
Child of darkness, woman of light
Child of sacrifice, woman of life and growth
Child of war soldiers, woman with peace soldiers as her allies
Child of love, woman of love and soul
Child so small, woman so big and eternal
Child so silent, woman so loud and sweet
Child so secretive, woman of truth
Child of surreptitious detours, woman of the straight line and walk
Child of the woman to be, woman of the child to be

My beloved (trees as teachers)

My beloved,
you can grow, there will be space provided for you.
Seek the nurturing ground and then go straight for the sunlight of your soul.
It is all up to you. And it is not all up to you.

Not every want will be met but whether rain or ice or drought, look at the trees, the tree still grows, tall, vibrant, round, spiral, capturing the sunlight in its leaves and branches.
You will be host to those who come to visit you and you will, at times, not be sought out because time and need are not aligned for those others.

So much vibrancy, so many different shapes, no need to make space for others at your expense, for those who are strong and meant to be will also grow.  With you.
You will share sun, earth, sky, air, light, water with everybody.
Therefore your want is for growth -  body, heart and soul.

You know your heart and what it is capable of.
You know your body.
You have heard the whispers of your soul.  Once you hear it clearly, there will be no compromise, no turning back.

The mystery is yet to be revealed

The mystery is yet to be revealed.
All life shaping and being shaped in symphony, in cacophony.
Wounds being opened, scars licked by love and compassion to blend back into the beautiful body that was and will never be the same again.

Fires roaring to cleanse, to create, to nurture, to ignite, to propel seeds into their full growth and potential.
Water raging, foaming, foaming, shaping, melding, melting, lovingly caressing, relentlessly pounding, transforming other as it is transforming itself.

Earth, so immensely rich and deep, mother and father, nurturing and holding, bringing forth and swallowing up.

Wind, caressing and howling, reducing great rocks to sand and sand to eternity. Whispering and bellowing, carrying seeds and birds and pounding everything to the earth.

Rocks, solid, giving rise to images of what was, what is and what could be, energies solid and yet untamed.

Sun, fierce and burning, changing, birthing, loving, being the compass of life and seasons, of gods and soul, of hearts and songs.

Moon, gentle, enveloping, stroking bodies, loves and beings. Stroking waves and trees, reflecting, glittering, rendering all beautiful, bringing out the tenderness of lovers and the magic of mystical beings, otherwise not seen.

Trees, rooted, strong, yet shaped by other energies. Claiming space, making space, ultimate creation, live-giving being in this world.  Singing into being the sun, the earth the wind and the water. Taking in the sun and the moon and reflecting them so their beauty is magnificent to behold.

The mystery is yet to be revealed - mystery I greet you.

That roaring fire

That roaring fire is being stoked.  The companions evaluated for their capacity to withstand it, to add fuel, to help hold and reveal it.  Body and soul is being nurtured and strengthened to bring it forth. Voice is sweetened to give song to the fire. Heath is wide open and known, it is the gateway.

Deeper and deeper, layers upon layers will have to fall to access the deepest of fire, the deepest of roar, so it can continue.  Soul must be known. In one clear moment, all covering is being removed.  And out.  The sleeper is awake, the child is guiding with wide eyes, stepping into mystery, the peace soldiers are standing guard and are ready to keep the fire sacred, belonging to me and the world.

The soul energies, those patient, beautiful beings are beyond being tamed.  They have been let loose. An all consuming fire ready to bring forth the most beautiful shimmer, flames, crackling, explosions, sparks the world has ever seen.  The world has been waiting for this, the wait is over.

The mystery

The mystery is unfolding, how and what is will look like is part of the unfolding.  As I caress the world, fly with the wind on its wings, listen to its songs, melt into the belly of the earth, gape wide-eyes and hear-soaring at the stars, love with the moon and rejoice with the sun, the mystery is all around me and I within it.

So the question is not how and what but will I let the mystery find me, will I allow its unfolding, will I join in breathing and singing it into being again and again. There is nothing more important than to hold the mystery in the palm of my hand, like the most precious I have ever held, gaze at it lovingly with all my heart and soul and let it unfold.

Hold it gently with open palm so it can take flight at any time and yet, give it the strength and solidity of my warm, sweet hand through which my blood flows. Be in awe at its beauty and continuously dazzling change in color.  Accept its flight as well as its settling into my hand.  Be grateful for both. And not be afraid, my hand will always be the right one, just what is required.

Don't squeeze too tightly or I might kill it.
Don't grab after it or I might scare it or wound it.
Don't make a fist or it can't reveal itself.
Don't fear what it requires of me, surrender to it.

Keep my palm open and the unfolding will be beyond my current imagination and I will say to myself and the world: it is so.