The Liminal Realm

So who remembers the seinfeld where george's dad invents a new "christmas" holiday called "festivus"  and hauls around this strange festivus pole and tries to get everyone to consider it as an option?  ok, so i'm not going to start carrying around a new kind of tree (although strangely enough i did invent a newish tree kinda thing this year, maybe that was the start of this notion?--see my last post for "new tree expose' ")  But i am formally proposing a new holiday type thingy for your consideration...

i mean, what is new year's really about anyway, right?

every year we all jump on the bandwagon of setting new resolutions, and according to Oprah's experts, we go about falling off that wagon approx. 6 weeks later...that's it, just 6 weeks to change your life every year and then it's just too damn late for a whole notha 10.5 months. 

so i'm protesting new year's this year...no more resolutions, no more starting over, no more clanging pots and pans to welcome in a celebration of all things failed 6 short weeks from now.

here's how i look at it?  what the hell were we thinking?  if you come at this from a straight seasonal approach, we are within a week(ok a tiny bit more) of the shortest day of the year, it's freezing cold out (at least in my neck of the woods), the earth is lying fallow, chilled to the bone while all the seeds planted from the mulching upturning of earth in the fall are just waiting underground, gestating in their seed juice, knowing inherently what they are called to do, but also smart enough to answer the call when the season is right.

this in between time, the space where the world is taking a deep resting breath, where the silence of snow wrapping much of the northern hemisphere( ok at least it is cold enough for it, can't account for lack of moisture in the stratosphere...that's a whole 'nother discussion about nourishing and resources for yet another metaphorgasmic chat at another time) is a chill enough blanket; this is a time when our own energetic rhythms are calling for the feeding that comes from a deep subconscious sleep, when all the 'amniotic' hubris of self-creation gently rocks our souls in what ma in her nightshirt and pa in his cap lovingly refer to as....' a long winter's nap'!  So what's all that clatter on the rooftop about?  what is that magical dream of eight tiny reindeer and the fat man in red and white(btw the universal colors of the red cross, the suggestion of greater causes of heart at work in the world, opening heart and coming to our aid)...hmmmm, perhaps the mystic appearance of our own willingness to suspend the disbelief of the 5 senses we know in our physical realm might not be the only sense we have.
Perhaps this winter's nap is an invitation in THE LIMINAL REALM?  well i'm no genius, interpreter of all things mystic and magical in the world, but i have had enough 6 week cycles of goal and release, that i am eager to seek for a deeper meaning in what the new year might bring.
So here's what i'm proposing... 
how 'bout the fortnight from new year's eve straight on through to jan. 14th become our own celebration of the "Liminal Realm"; a true Hol(y)days celebration and exploration of the internal spirit planted deeply within each of us?
How about giving this physical realm a break from all these goals set and broken, timing and germination thwarted to peek our heads out of the earth long before the seed is set to sprout?  what if instead we honored the planting?  what if we went within, with great stillness began to observe what great intentions we have been calling in since the days of high summer, light and harvest?  how cool would that be to allow that GREAT NOTHINGNESS OF EXPLORATION, allowing the seeping in of the mist of spirit at all the edges to inform our waking senses of just what might be at play deep within the earth.

How would those 14 days look?  maybe lot's of time choosing not to go to one more party, do all the returns that are so pressing, come up with a whole new Franklin Planner full of next year's plan....perhaps in the long silence, that place of allowing; a prayer for inspiration might actually create enough space that from the deepest of liminal spaces, where belief and disbelief get right on out of the way, will emerge a sense of knowing just what is being created, germinated, sprouted, nourished deep within our hearts and beings, waiting only to emerge when once it's named and whispered into the ethers...those forces of spirit hear the call and respond with the force of the angels (well, 'cause that's who is actually listening, on our side, willing to jump into action when a prayer for assistance is spoken, muttered, shrieked, signed and heck...even karaoke style sung into the cosmos!)

so consider this the formal LIMINAL HOLIDAY MOVEMENT...2 whole weeks to allow our winter's nap to really take root, speak to our hearts from a deep realm, open our spirit to what feels really important and becomes the joyful thing we resolve, intend, open up to all year long, in each little and big moment of expression, connection loving and growth into which we choose to breathe!!!! this is what feels like it might truly be a real expression of self in the Holiest way of all during this Hol(y)day season. What's the hurry anyway?  why be so attached to only what you resolve the last night of the calendar year? How about that just being being the start of how and what we notice our highest- self stepping forth to claim in each waking moment?

p.s.  i think this feels like a really yummy new year's card too, so please consider this the news of my year until you hear otherwise( at least a fortnight!)

love and other lushy stuff,
lama

Pump up the Jam

SENSE   since when does greater awareness bring shortness of breath?  am i foolishly under the illusion that i have any sort of awareness about anything?  sometimes ebb and flow is full of a helluva lot of ebb.  integration can mean that the new way really wants to upset my apple cart...and then here i sit with a bunch of bruised apples by the side of the road. 

SENSIBILITY   note to self -- even when i am on some level aware that my shadow is shifting, a new light is casting its gaze on me, and my ego is learning to relinquish its range of control over so many aspects of my life--simple does not mean easy.  right here is where i must remember to BREATHE.   (oh yah, that god CPR thing might be kickin' in right about now)  so don't mind the omnipotent beating on your chest when it feels like your heart might break right open...how else to 'improve the rhythm' than to inject a little baseline.

i ask you, is this the eye of God?

i'm not quite sitting on the dock of the bay, but the view from where i am atop the trees of the amazon is not one to scoff at. from my perch in the trees it would seem i am just another creature of the jungle...and my lovely friend (her partner was just a tad bit more shy) appears to be questioning me as much as i am questioning her. do you think perhaps she thinks me god as well? in her world that girl with the crazy, frizzy (thank you rain forest humidity) hair could be the strangest thing she has ever seen and just might be considered some kind of celestial visitation. (since i have added a little more blond to my hair of late, everyone thinks me a tad bit heavenly)

my question really is, why isn't that bright eyed, alert and a little bit cunning bird in front of me the god i am looking for? and perhaps she is...i really couldn't ask to be placed more squarely in the heartbeat of the world or perhaps the cosmos than where i am sitting right now. i am breathing deeply, opening heart and eyes...from this stance layers peel away and i feel stripped bare and vulnerable and like it that way

why you wanna fly?

tortion in your look, something has occurred
is it possible that in this judgment we have erred?
is there something gently disguised by the twinkle in your eyes,
and do we mispeak by asking clearly to hear about your week?

it's not a problem especially and we don't mean to pry,
but the clenching stress and twitch might yet reveal the lie.
don't be alarmed by this momentary aberration
it's just something to note while passing through the station.

something to note about the psyche or consciousness
in this child that walks so bravely and silently among us.
i don't have much to go on to identify the issue
that belies the remarkable softness as it yields its inner tissue.

a melting implies that we are finally letting go of shape
while holding the gentle infant within the visionary's scape.
honor comes with engineered development of presence
an opportunity for thoroughbred to open up to essence.


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Now playing: Nina Simone - Blackbird
via FoxyTunes

The sway of genius...

i will be the first to admit that it has been too damn long since i have spent any real time writing. personal writing time has been incredibly limited of late; however, i will say that i have come to the coffee shop at least 6 times in the past few months with the intent of getting a little introspective, drinking a little warm brew and seeing what comes out of the mix. i did the same thing this morning and what rose to the top? 3 hours of responding to personal e-mail, visiting friends' blogs that i haven't seen for ages, reading a few chapters in books that have been buried under finance reports, spreadsheets and business requirements documents.

and through it all a few thoughts finally took form that felt like something to share more than something to pack away for later...

one e-mail i got held a simple personal call to action... or sort of action, really more an internal attitude adjustment whenever we/i feel action might be required...

T.I.T.L.
"trust in the love"

when faced with the pressures of life, the pain or adversity or joy that shows up in our relationships, interactions, internal journeys and public endeavors--the admonition to see that love is at the root of all these experiences builds the lens and the attraction that love really does conquer all.
when life comes at you in the full force that it has a tendency to do, how can we respond/interpret/act in a way that becomes something we can embrace as a means of helping us on our way to happiness and fulfillment? Turning this question on myself, i love the portence of the quiet statement above. it beckons me to trust that life is always holding me in a sincere and purposeful, loving embrace. the intention for all of the experiences that life sends at me is to find the love there, the beauty, the support, the means of holding me in the greatest aspect of caring and fulfillment that i welcome as a method of learning life's lessons and moving into the fullest and most joyful expression of me.

in my reading today i came across a quote from Heraclitus--predating socrates and plato, "ethos anthropoi daimon". meaning can be interpreted in ways too numerous to count, but for me today the path i went down was this...

frequently interpreted to mean "character determines fate", i meandered through the possibility that character is something we build, it takes an infinite number of tiny moments; becomes much more the wave than the particle, and this for me is the "sway" with which we walk. not just our physical step, but our internal urgings, emotional responses, unique means of being in the world.
along with the sway comes our personal call to perform--not just the loud, public, celebrated performance that sometimes defines a man or woman; but the intimate, constant, glorious and terrible pursuit of our own genius that creates the path of the soul.

so for me this is the sway of genius--daily essence of self moving towards the inner call of the soul, in tiny- inner heartbeats, infinite strokes of genius, creating our own path of learning; may not be extreme, may not be famous, may not ever seemingly appear to deviate from the norm, but we know on the inside how we respond to our own essential call to genius. how we match the burning inner need to realize certain aspects of our own genius on this journey through life.

it was the tiny and meaningful statement of "trust in the love" that honed this realization for me today. life is built to love us/me into the most perfect sway our/my own genius can create. there was a photo accompanying this Trust In The Love...the author's child in a pumpkin patch, how else can this beautiful child behave than to trust that pumpkins will grow, mom will think he is amazing, dad will tear up when he balances on his bike and souls will rejoice as he grows in love!!!(i hope she won't mind that i included that picture bursting with potential above.)

"All life is sorrowful; there is however an escape from sorrow; the escape is Nirvana – which is a state of mind or consciousness, not a place somewhere, like heaven. It is right here, in the midst of the turmoil of life. It is the state you find when you are no longer driven to live by compelling desires, fears, and social commitments, when you have found your center of freedom and can act by choice out of that. Voluntary action out of this center is the action of the bodhisattvas – joyful participation in the sorrows of the world. "
The Power of Myth Joseph Campbell

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Now playing: Peter Cincotti - Sway
via FoxyTunes

Life on Earth...

(follow this journey forward to chapter 2)

My journey this year has been one of quite intricate and beautiful weave. i'm so completely grateful for all the stitches and right now particularly aware of a new pattern that emerges in the fabric. i was called on to write a bit of the old tale last year and it feels somehow appropriate now to share it as i am called to enter a new weave. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i did discovering it:)

So long ago when time was measured not by hours and minutes, but by the star’s passings of the moon, a girl child lived in the halls of the palace of the gods. How she had come to live there, no one can exactly remember; only to say that it seemed she had always been there, tread the halls ever so lightly, peaking from behind doors, finding tiny passageways which must have been constructed for some purpose, but had gone unused for so long that not only couldn’t anyone remember their purpose, really no one but the girl could even remember they were still there.
Many servants had come and gone; grown old in the service of the palace, and they were always the ones to notice a pair of mary- janes abandoned at the threshold of the courtyard, a game of jacks left to scratch the fine ebony floors of the grand ballroom, or a window left ajar too close to the scribes’ ink in the library causing it to dry out much too quickly. The gods were always questioning who had left such a mess or been so careless, but they didn’t hold their breath for an answer, knowing the servants were quick to scurry behind their own footsteps, cleaning up whatever mess had been left behind or caused too much of a stir.
The goddess of the great dance hall, Chatelaine, was particularly known for calling the servants to clean up one mess or another. Her particular favorites—servants that is— were Fate and Destiny. These two had a way of filling the hall with music, making sure all the guests were well looked after and that all those with a dance card had filled it out in time to enter the Reel, everyone’s favorite dance, a beautiful and intricate pattern interweaving and crossing partners for its duration. Chatelaine was an exceptional dancer, and the girl child watched her in awe as she dressed in gowns of silk and damask, deftly filled her dance card with the most handsome beaus and glided among the party goers with Ease and Grace. Ease and Grace were two of Chatelaine’s most constant companions; ladies-in-waiting who attended their mistress to perfection. The girl child had watched many times from behind a floral screen as preparations for the evening’s events proceeded. Funny though, even when she sat right on the hearth to watch, it was as if she were a statue or little pet animal who went entirely unnoticed.
One evening, warming herself by the hearth and going typically unnoticed as Chatelaine prepared for the ball, the child dropped her jaw in awe when Valiant and Griffin, two of the lesser gods who often were away on noble errands to earn favor, entered the room dressed in palace finery to pay their respects. Their coats were clearly of a new fashion; woven of the finest silks and delicate sea moss. It was clear the two had been at sea and seen and done many amazing things on their quest. The child sat up quite straight from her game of Fox and Chicks to listen to what tales these two might have to tell. She was eager to know of their adventures abroad. But as they began to regale those in the hall with tidbits of the high seas, the child was overcome by fatigue and no matter how hard she tried to stay awake was lulled by the warmth of the fire and fell into a deep slumber.
It was not until the early morning when the guests had long since returned to their chambers that Constance, the morning chaplain, pressed the child’s shoulders just enough to wake her, whispering it was time to rise and tend to her own daily chores before she could be left to her own devices. Try as she might that day, it always seemed to the girl as if she were entering the room too late, or having to leave a table too early to hear a proper account of the twins’ tales from the night before. And so she was left to her own imaginings to determine what glorious times they had at sea.
This pattern continued for lifetimes—the girl living the life of one of the gods, sitting at their table, dressed in their finery, served by their servants, but never growing into a position of acknowledgement or import—always the child and interloper.
One morning the child awoke to the strangest sensation. It was if she were Sleeping Beauty, and the entire castle was asleep because she had pricked her finger—only that wasn’t quite it because she should also be asleep if that were the case. The child wandered through the hall of the palace and found everyone else deep in slumber. All the gods and servants, even the animals were sleeping. She was extremely worried and tried mightily to awaken or stir even one person—she would have been happy with simple Constance to talk to at that point, but to no avail…the spell they slept under was much stronger than the medicine she had in her power to wake them.
And so, after many tears, the child’s crying dried up—she looked around and began to try all the things she thought she had been missing. She tried on all the most exquisite dresses in Chatelaine’s closet, and then deserted them on the floor of the dressing room. She even ventured into the great hall of the Hunt where the roar-like exclamations Lord Brunehinter had always frightened her too much to enter. Here she found the most amazing and terrifying things she had ever seen. It turned out that Brunehinter was a master of the hunt and took great pride in displaying his trophies stuffed and staged in lifelike stances throughout the hall. Never having left the palace, the child wasn’t aware that such beautiful and powerful creatures even existed. Once having seen the lovely beasts, she was overcome by an amazing sorrow for their unpurposed deaths and resolved to improve the plight of their kin.
With this vow in her heart child determined she would leave the palace to see if there was anyone or anything awake anywhere else. Having never left the palace before, the girl had no idea that she should leave through the great doors at the entrance of the grand hall, and in truth, these doors were so massive, so firm and unmoving that she never could have budged them using her bicep strength. But this thought didn’t occur to the girl as she pressed open the intricate wooden shutters at the top of the grand staircase; these she had seen the servants open many times, and once had even ventured out into the courtyard when Chance, the gardener, had inadvertently left them open, but Constance had quickly spotted her and rushed her back inside.
—Now the story has long been told of how it was discovered that child had been living in the palace for years undetected--- When the girl stepped onto the patio her feet recoiled in shock and perhaps a bit of delight as she stomped through a field of tiny white crystals. By the time she got to the garden wall her delight had turned to concern as she finally realized her feet were cold and the bright with crystals of snow had cut into her pristine feet so sharply that her toes had begun to bleed. It was at this point that the girl finally thought of a good reason to actually wear the shoes that were always showing up at the foot of her bed. So on painstaking tip toes she returned to her room, through the snow, down the gallery, up the residence staircase and into the living chambers of the gods. Here she searched for just the right pair of shoes to put on. Through all of her searching she trailed little crimson toe prints, a silent witness to her passing that screamed quite loudly, eventually waking everyone in the palace and finally betraying her presence there.
But by this time the child had long since wandered into Morelia’s rooms, goddess of wing-ed flight. She had always seen her coming and going through the royal kitchens with so many beautifully appointed garments. The child often made a game of following Morelia as far as the kitchen garden wall before cook scolded her for leaving the door open and rushed her back inside. Following the goddess Morelia had always been a delight for the child and she yearned for the freedom to go past the kitchen wall—filling her pockets with delicacies, carrying bags and packages containing all the mysteries of her days beyond the wall. Now in Morelia’s chamber, the child hopped in triumph as she dressed in a thick-soled pair of riding boots which made an ever-so-clever clicking noise as the child walked; just like the horses down at the stables. The child then wrapped herself in a warm and very soft and voluminous fur stole; smelling faintly of nutmeg and mint from hanging in cold storage in the barn where Morelia had herself retrieved it just that morning thinking she would wear it to meet with the artisan’s guild later in the week. Alas, she would wear it no more, for the child slipped her feet into the boots and her arms into the warm coat-sleeves, and grabbing an empty basket and bag or two—something Morelia always did before leaving the palace—she joyously clicked her heals all the way downstairs into the kitchen. From Morelia’s chamber the telltale spots of blood disappeared in exchange from bits of dried mud shed from the sole of the boots down the back staircase, out the kitchen door and over the garden wall. Here she dropped a fine lapel pin that had been attached to her coat; it had belonged to Morelia’s mother, Florence—who had sung so beautifully whenever asked to, that the palace had retired her favorite aria when she passed out of the time of stars and moons.
Throwing her legs over the garden wall, the child didn’t think for one moment of taking the garden gate, and was suddenly overtaken by true emotion for the first time in her life. It was true that she had only just had her first experience with pain, but feeling the pain accentuated her glorious intake of breath as she left behind the old and unimpassioned life of perfection in the palace of the gods. Stepping onto terra firma the girl felt a tear of joy slide down her cheek, she quickly brushed it away with certainly as she jauntily made her way into the land and field and forest beyond the world of the palace.

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Now playing: Paul McCartney - This Never Happened Before
via FoxyTunes

baja full moon

Totally different view

so i'm sort in a state of writer's block these days, really more thinker's block if you will. staying way out of the zone where the brain is always churning stuff up and spewing out really brilliant reasons why everything is the way it is. i was sick for ten days this month. in the past three years, i can only remember being sick one time enough so that i actually had to stay in bed for only one day. and suddenly--in my 10 big sick days i probably stayed mostly in bed for at least 3 of them.

here's the thing(we're back to the thing again folks) i got sick because every night for the past few months when i went to bed my brain would kick into high gear, like it was the first time all day that it had a chance to get my attention. so it would jump into front and center mode and start unraveling the day in majestic proportions.(no sleep until about 3 in the morning every night turned into really bad cold and flu, hacking, coughing up a lung,)
i literally felt like mugatu and i had taken some crazy pills together. of course i haven't done anything half so grand as invent the piano key necktie or anything like that, but my brain kept trying to come up with the solutions for all of the seemingly very grandiose problems that were circulating in my life. even as i was fully aware and choosing not to rely on my old patterns of ego and mind habits to solve the situations that arose, my ego was really refusing to play along with that decision and so because i kept on telling it no during the day, it would kick in every night as i laid down to get some sleep. i ask you to try and imagine what it was like to drift off into deep slumber, all the while having craziness of the likes of will ferrell jabbering in your head about some ridiculous accomplishments that mean absolutely nothing in the long run.

wow, did i just totally ramble on without ever coming to a point there? what i mean to say is i have been really opening to operate from a soulspace point of view in my interactions and only calling on the tactics of ego as a tool. because my ego has always been the tool in the driver's seat, it doesn't like getting put into passenger mode and so the inner struggle kicks in at night when my defenses are low.

i came to an awareness this week that shifted the struggle. i have been on the offensive with the ego; going to the depths and heights of my being seeking the places it inhabits and trying to cast it out. such an offensive has literally created a warlike interior in my inner psyche--i picture it sort of like antibodies rushing around my blood, cleansing all aspects of foreign material. these little workers aren't recognizing that the foreign body is a gestating fetus(no this does not mean i am physically pregnant, but spiritually birthing a new me) and rather than trying to cleanse the foreign body, i am becoming aware that it is possible to incorporate all these pieces of me to become a greater whole. seems a very small awareness doesn't it? bringing ego and spirit into league with eachother, but the small shift in approach has amazingly changed the outer feeling.

my brain has finally settled, recognizes a way to be instead of do , and this just flows hand-in-hand with the soul part of me that rises to the surface to be authentic and conscious . it's as if i have finally learned to "turn right" , when before all i could give the world was a brilliant flash of "blue steel", i have finally opened to allowing the essential and stunning view of "magnum" as well. it's exactly the same and yet, a totally different view.




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Now playing: Gnarls Barkley - crazy
via FoxyTunes

sense memory extraordinaire

for me it is gloriously self-indulgent and provides hours of nostalgic enjoyment to let the mind ramble through favorite memories. i always wonder what unlocks the brain from one memory to the next, how exactly does the brain filing system work? these mysteries are neither answered nor explored in this excerpt. i just do a little of that self-indulgent crap and invite you to respond with the same...

sound of lawn sprinklers going on with
seeing the full moon come up over mount olympus
--this means summer is in full swing because i am laying out on granny's lawn, it's summer so our sprinkler use is turned to nighttime, and the moon just perfectly comes over the peaks to the east, the grass is still warm from the sun going down. then we scramble for cover

Sound of U2's 'with or without you' with
sight of my old friend don merril playing air guitar and grinning like a chesire cat
--he was the first one to really introduce me to the band U2 and their music became quite the presence in my college years--joshua tree was the soundtrack to my entire semester in jerusalem

smell of pipe tobacco with
walking to gemco
--at an age when i still considered walking to the local grocery store an opportunity for some social interaction(picture hanging out in front of 7-11) rather than driving. i would have to pass our neighbor's house who was a huge pipe smoker, and i loved the smell-sweet and rich. he also had his lawn mowed into a small putting green which seemed so funny to me, i mean we really lived in middle, middle america and can you just picture this dude out front smoking his pipe and putting on his own lawn? who does that??

Feeling the heat of the sun on my goosepimply skin as i warmed my body after swimming for hours with
Laughing uproarously with friends playing pool games for days on end throughout the whole summer...as a kid i never thought vegas was too hot in the summer, what is too hot when you can swim for 6 hours in a row?

feeling so tired and falling into bed begging my mom to
tickle my back so i could fall asleep...isn't there something so precious about the slowly deepening breath of a child as they fall asleep? makes it worth laying by them for millions of nights in a row just to recall that safe and warm feeling as a child:) we would beg our mom to tickle our back in church--sitting through the long services, i'm sure she just hoped we would be quiet long enough to make it out without her killing us.

sound of music blasting out of seriously rated speakers and the
beat pulling your body right off its seat for all night dancing and singing fests. what songs, beats, bands did this for you? off the top of my head...stray cats, der kommisar, careless whisper/wham, housemartins, modest mouse, trio, violent femmes, psychedelic furs, janet jackson, madonna, new order-blue monday, squirrel nut zippers, cake, sinead o'connor, hippy chick, squeeze, jamiroquai, no doubt, dave matthews band, alicia keyes, yeah yeah yeahs, michael franti and spearhead/skin on the drum, prince, the strokes, the kinks, sondre lerche and, and , and....who's ready to make their own list?(consider this paragraph the "currently listening bit"--now i've got to go and make a new playlist