Lessons of Love and Life

I say now that I have loved to have lost, to love again and lose again to love again. And each time the love comes it remains a little longer, it feels stronger. And in this process of loving, I see this process of loss as the beginning teacher of 'letting go'.


I sit here open, thankful, that these lessons have revealed themselves to me. Finding myself sitting here unraveling my concept of relationship, so that I can define it solely for me. I find, for me, the biggest challenge in relationship is maintaining a personal level of integrity, otherwise defined as 'holding my power'. As a woman I am taught to give and give and give and ask for little or nothing in return. Where is the sense and the value in that? I see this cycle spiral through my genetic line and it sits now here with me deep in my belly. I am here with it. I am holding these lies and stories of many women ...knowing that we are worth it. That we deserve more and that our daughters need new stories and they are for us to tell, as we create them now in our lives. 


Sitting with this awareness I am brought deeper into my work, seeing it is my relationship to my own personal power that needs mending. No one else can do this work. So I follow my breath into my center and I hear now the words whisper "You are Sacred" And then I sink a little deeper, feel my breath catch and hear the fear sitting in my lower intestines speaking "But how can this be true? How can I, as a woman, be sacred?"


For it has been so many hundreds, thousands of years ...where women have been believing it is a curse to be a woman. Where women have suffered, and undergone inhumane treatment simply because they are women. This is my portal into the suffering of the black man, and the black woman. I come here, into this place, with compassion in my heart and the intent of healing held in my sacred, loving hands.


And I fear being beaten for speaking. I fear being raped for being sensual, sexual and powerful. How dare I be assertive? How dare I assert my wisdom, power and grace in the name of anything? How dare I claim wisdom ..when I am just young and naive ...a girl. How dare I stand in the center of my power and know peace, feel love and be safe.


My ancestors were burned, raped, brutally tortured and murdered. For believing in love, magic and power. For living life as it was meant to be lived. Naked and open. Bared to the elements.


This recent storm was powerful for me. A great teacher in lessons of holding power. I stood in my center, winds raging, rain pouring over me. Challenging the Gods ..is this foolish? I have called Council with the Gods. A friend tells me, they will laugh ..and I say let them. I sat there until the experience of being the rain and the winds and this storm ripping through our inner valleys came ...but I couldn't hold it, I ran away from it. And fell into my patterns of despair. The tools I use for escape when it feels like things are unsafe. They have names: Self neglect, self sabotage. Again ...Who dare I to command respect, to be powerful? I have no right. No voice. I should remain quite, not cause such a stir ...that's just me being dramatic. There is a long use of this word: hysteria. 


Self neglect is a weak voice. She feels she is unworthy. She says 'I don't deserve love, money, power, prestige' ...she believes she must remain small and weak. She has no sense of entitlement. She doesn't deserve happiness, because someone did a terribly good job at convincing here that she is inherently wrong.


Self Sabotage is a different story, entirely. She's a mess. An angry mess. Her story is "I don't need love" She likes the word fuck ..and she uses it a lot. She says "Fuck men." "Fuck women" "Fuck the world" and "Fuck yourself while you are at it." Her sense of entitlement is extravagant ...she lives beyond her means. Her practical sense of reality is fragmented. 


I've become the mediator between Self Neglect and Self Sabotage, and my work here with them is to create some peace and love within them. I can call the baby that will be born between them: Self Esteem.


I share this because I want to communicate that it is always your relationship to self that is your highest concern ...life moves through you in a way that will provide mirrors and tests for where you need healing. Partners are gateways into your deepest self. Do not get stuck in them. Move through, deeper into you.


I used to view love as a sickness, a weakness ...I tried to avoid love at all costs. For however it served me. And served me it did ....but this process I find myself in now is about opening to love, seeing love for what it is, and coming to know my own love within me. What I have learned is that Love is potent medicine, and I mean REAL LOVE, the kind that comes into your world, stirs you up and knocks you flat on your ass so that you can sit and reevaluate everything in your life. The kind of love that does not just pulse deep in your groins but whispers in your heart and magnetizes you to what will deepen your experience and understanding of Love, if you choose it. Do you know that silent pull? It requires surrender of your mind to your heart, and just letting go. Choosing trust. Making the conscious choice that maybe there is an innate intelligence stored deep within that really does know what is best for you ...and even if your conscious mind tells you that you are crazy and can make no logical sense ...I say life is so much more than logic. Life is the wild chaotic force that I call Magic. Magic is that sense of joy that comes and spreads through your entire body for no apparent reason other than you are open and you believe.


Love can be a bloody battle, because if you choose to drink the medicine and let it soak into your being, it calls you to pick up arms and fight against everything that lives within you that is not Love, that is not your personal truth. Do you have lies living within you? Love will make you work. Love is compassionate, but it is relentless. (Hence the agony) Love came to me, I thought, via the heart of a man. The incredible strong, loving, gentle heart of an incredible man. But you see, I had this little fire burning in my belly ...and my flame called out to another flame ....asking to be lit stronger. And the blazing inferno erupted to every corner of my life ...every path ...every horizon was filled with more fire. I walked in this fire for weeks, with no rest ...because there was no where to lay down, lest I be devoured. And I was not ready to lay down my life. But now I see that I was just afraid, I was still running from the change that was here for me. And it is in the allowing of the fire to engulf and consume me that I am transformed. So I lay it down now ...my past, my struggles, my trials by fire (literally). To fall in Love, is, in essence, to die. And I accept this death.


I will leave you with this: If Love comes to you, do not run from it. Open to it. Yes, it is going to hurt ...it may just be the most painful thing you ever come to, but let it come ..because love will hold you through it all. Love is Medicine for your Soul. And do not get caught in the illusion of relationship ...this doctrine that we've all been taught that says "I love you, therefore you must love me. And I will build a cage around your life, blocking you from the river that needs to run through you in order for you to be healthy and whole. And I do this in the name of love." But this is not Love, it is fear of letting go, fear of being alone. Fear of the dark parts of who you are, which we all have, but this knowing ..this finding all of you ...that only love can do. It's what brings you home. Love is a gift, and it is everywhere, so let it come. It's not going to be found in the face of another, a child, a mother, a new job or a new town. Love is within you. Love is your passion and love is your power. Let Love devour you. It might be the only thing that is ever worth it. 


There is still a fog here for me, but it is lifting and I will know clear skies ahead. Love, this sickness that I thought you were, you bring me health. Because you show me all the places that need healing, all the spaces where I need to bring breath and love, my love, my care, my sweet nurturance. Because any lover that has ever revealed themselves to me was just a mirror of the love that already exists within. And how long can I deny myself? And would I choose that denial over the love that I am?


My Love is a bird with broken wings, but I have already sewn the stitches that will mend, and as I nurture these wounds I will teach myself to fly again.


I dedicate this post to every man I have ever known love through. You have brought me closer to Self, and for this I am ever grateful.

I wonder what was heard

As the deepest layers of my being are responding to some sort of universal call. I am merging my cellular structure within the framework of the infinite matrix. It is time, you see. This calling of home. It is time to come home to myself. The work I have been set to do is laid about before me. Yet I am fearful, nervous, sickened to the core and the deepest recess of bone.


My vagina has become a door. Something better left to remain shut, some would say. But I cannot fathom this betrayal. As I sit nursing these feelings and deep longings I feel sheltered in some ways, exposed in others. Opening to new dimensions of thought, form, feeling, spirit. Creating a container for my soul.


It is nearly 5am and my spirit will not allow me rest. There are things that need to be addressed.


I can thank the man that pissed me off for the inspiration to write this post.


Let me explain; I posted a picture on facebook from Seattle's 'Slut Walk', where a man persisted in tearing down this movement. He calls women involved in this idiots, and says that by standing together against rape and violence under the name slut we are devaluing our cause and taking attention away from the core issues. And here is a direct quote "all I'm saying is attract the right kind of attention and stop acting like sluts if you want peoples respect, walking around half naked and flipping the bird is not going to shock me or make me think any more about your cause, I'm going to view you as an uneducated douche bag with no sense of moral responsibility and I will not subject my children to or support your cause" He persisted to say that my anger was useless and wasteful and that I should be addressing these issues of rape and violence politely, and with a smile. I wonder is this a joke? I will note that not one woman in the photograph that I shared was dressed like a "slut". 


To which I responded creatively with this:

While I found this video to be entertaining and suitable to the moment in response to this man it did not leave room, and neither did he for the deeper emotions to be brought forth and addressed. I became enraged and even now as I attempt to write I feel a knot catch in my throat. You see women are not allowed to speak out and up, especially in regards to man's actions or behaviors. But you know what. FUCK IT. I'M PISSED OFF. Angry doesn't quite cut it. Boiling, seething, raging mad ...its getting there, but still cannot fully encompass the rage of emotion that strikes my chords. 


I will sing this song. And it is a song of death. Death to all that would bring harm, and the birth of new life.


There is hatred here, within me for the pain that I have had to live with and the world that I grew up in. I'm not ready to take this dive, feel the depth of this and resurface alive. Invigorated with and for life. I know it will happen soon.


I will say this. In defense of 'Slutwalk' and all women and men brave enough to come together, with united purpose and common intention to take this stand and do this healing work, it is so profound. I am honoured, as a woman, not a slut, to stand with you.


No one had to explain it to me why they chose the name "slut" for this walk. Women have had to carry these labels around ...men and women both throwing them around like daggers, words meant to disempower and harm. Why not go for the source, and find empowerment? Makes perfect sense to me. Inga Muscio gets it ...she wrote Cunt for the same reason. Black men and women get it, calling each other Niggers in non derogatory ways. Us white folk, are obviously way too uptight. So little of us actually "get it". It might cause us to have to unravel our previously held notions and beliefs ..just a little.


Rape has been silenced, sort of like women's voices. We just don't want to talk about it. Most would rather pretend it doesn't exist. But those who have been directly effected by it, can't choose that option. It invades their lives. Destroys their self esteem. Makes them vulnerable and susceptible for more violence, more rape. It taps the energy of their core and feeds off them. 


It stops here. Women are uniting in chorus and we are saying "NO" and men are singing with us. Join the voices and amplify the sound. 


Take your negativity and your judgemental attitude and literally go fuck yourself, so that you are occupied, so you do not get in the way of the people who are doing the real healing work on our planet.


Maybe one day I'll actually get into how the way women are treated is a direct reflection of the way our planet is treated and vice versa. Hopefully someone will listen....

Welcome to the Exploration.

Kubla Khan

by

Samuel  Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
 

Hail, Sacred Mother.

I offer myself in service of you