Practice does not require perfect

If the information is new to you, i have been on a new year's quest for the past few weeks...a quest to go without...No plan to make any goals, resolutions and i am actually even shying sort of clear of intentions. 

Shocking, unheard of, degenerate...you say? 

this could lead to the downfall of society...
So the two weeks are at an end, and i am sort of resisting going back to doing things any other way.  i guess i am really loving this whole space in between where no need to categorize or assess my world exists; only a true desire to be actively engaged in the moment i'm in.
here's what i've learned during this experiment...i didn't really sit around on my duff and eat bon bons, in fact i decided to start a sugar cleanse.  that's right, you read me right...during my season of in between. i started a new eating plan.  "how does that work"?  you might ask....and i'll tell you.  it's perfectly awesome to take on things i want to do during this time, i just do it without the whole notion that i have a goal to lose a million pounds, earn a million dollars and sell a million copies of a brilliant new bestseller. There is no need to constellate my plan with judgement or assesment, just energize it with action.  i did the sugar thing because it feels like it gets in the way of my physical happiness.  in all of my stillness and noticing, i recognized some moments where sugar seemed to feed my sense of less than well-being.  so i chose to notice myself going without sugar for a bit.

i've spent 6 days so far in that part of the experiement, and on one of them i cheated.  that bummed me out, but mostly because i noticed an immediate emotional shift into negatory good buddie!  i don't really love that zone anymore, so today, i shifted back to wanting what it feels like in the sugar free zone.

next, i started making some behind the scenes approaches towards building my own website, making the contacts i need, considering what content is relevant, what i might have to share in such a formal way that is worth putting out there.  "what the freak!!!" you say, "how the hell is that not making any resolutions? this chick is a total bait and switch master!"  no, no, no, here's the deal, it hasn't felt necessary to make a goal that i have a live website by a certain date, with a certain amount of relevant information all live and ready to go.  it has felt relevant that i have some things i wanna do, and some things i wanna say and they are begging to get out...in a more formal and clearly designed way than a catch as catch can blog.  so i can't ignore that a great way to organize those thoughts, and then perhaps even grown them into some awesome workshops and projects that other people can get involved in, is to find a way to go public with.  well whaddya know?  in comes the website.  all of a sudden it feels a little fun and exciting to eek out a few minutes during my week to put some creative thought into that and maybe a few action steps to back it up. 
hmmm, still different from goals, but it feels like a really slippery slope i'm describing doesn't it?

so here's the deal, i'm so far from perfect that i am loving the whole concept of gently, kindly, lovingly letting myself off the hook on that one and putting down that expectation for good.  in return, i am really thrilling in the joy of the PRACTICE of my imperfection.  it is a daily habit i am starting here...noticing all the things in that day that support my total and complete well-being and finding a way to do a bit of that for the day.  i do like that way it feels if i practice that for more than one day in a row, in fact, i am kinda really liking what it feels like to practice on a daily basis...this gets me absolutely nowhere closer to perfection, just a whole lot more actively engaged in living, and i guess that feels pretty good.

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

Time to PRAY RAIN people

"and there it is...just like that...superpower of the day--the power to  pray--check in with spirit, sense what my own heart is calling for and  resonate in that zone for a few minutes.  it can't show up unless it  knows i want it right? so unless i spend some energy calling it in,  sensing what it feels like, how i feel doing it--even when i don't know  what "it" is right now"  as i stated  A  few weeks ago.

Well let me say how much it seems i learn this one over and over; be really clear about the things i say or way i resonate my sense of being in prayer because, boy oh boy does it come on through when i ask for it.  And i have been "askin for it" for weeks now.  Stuff has been showing up left and right, begging the questions...is this what you wanted, how about this,  ok how about this now, and this one, let's try this bit on for size.  the universe hasn't been kidding around bringing me so many "answers to prayer" for me to try on that i haven't felt settled for ages.  But this other message--not the frenetic, chaotic one that tests me lately--but a glimpse into the space of connection, creating a unity and wholeness of spirit has appeared in my inbox (LITERALLY) and i want to share this bit here as well...

       "The deeply shifting intention on the planet Earth is creating an atmosphere of "perceived" chaos – Yes, the financial structures are failing, however, is that really what you are trying to protect here? Structures that have been set into place over time under misguided intention of "more is better". The Earth's core is shifting, creating quaking which results in volcanoes, earthquakes, unusual weather patterns and interactions, however it is like She is waking up after a sleep of nightmarish proportion. The greed of humanity, letting love and pure intention fall behind in value, has created the need to stretch and shake off the copasetic, passive pose of "whatever".
         The analogy – actually not analogy – the Truth of being transmitters is key. Plant your feet firmly on the ground and with intention – arms raised or not – transmit the Earth's needs into the air. Let her release through you as a loving conduit. In the same way, you will be transmitting to her the Universe's reply to her pleas. This two-way "radio" communication being conducted by living, breathing, loving energy is healing for both the distressed sender and the return broadcast from abroad – and we mean abroad in a very, very, expansive way Dear One.
         This role cannot be underestimated. There need be no interpretation of the message either way – there is no "code" to break. Pure intention, child-like joy-filled peace and harmony resonation is the most effective non-filter for this work. Out of mind and through the sacred heart. This is "our" task at hand now."  

And so i take my stand--deeply connecting to the filtering, cleansing, magnifying power of mother earth;(this is more than just a "be the ball" visualization, it is the pure practice of actually feeling the sweet flow of the river of manifesting as it becomes what i am in the now--much like the naugal wise man who didn't pray FOR rain, he just prayed rain, sensing, gushing feeling being rain, until it actually did.)

Transmitting my own prayer with a consciousness i haven't been this keenly aware of until now.  Gotta love it when a message in your inbox states it that easily right?  can't ask for a more clear delivery of intent than that!:)

out of the frying pan--like a phoenix

what an absolute shitstorm of emotion and depth-plunging this week has been!!!! just before the new year i attended a little workshop about the phoenix, the idea being to get really clear for the new year about what things i would like to be consumed by the fire of the past to ignite the intentions for the new year. i came away with a great sense of purpose and the beginnings of some great clarity for 2009. there is so much i want to do and be this year and i'm so excited to be in the middle of that.

my excitement got the better of me and the hailstorm of energy i brewed up with all my clear intentions and new year's goals has ridden over me this week with the force of the mythical twelve horsemen. (i don't even know that myth, or if it is 12, but the reference sounds perfect here doesn't it?--feel free to submit the appropriate mythical reference if you know it better than i) my phoenix day of creation took place on the new moon in december, and last night--the night of the world's hugest full moon--with 2 rainbows encirlcling it, my new year hit it's biggest bang of new beginning energy--tearing my foundations out by the roots, pulling tears from eyes in torrential floods, sobs from my heart with bone-breaking strength and , quelquefois, stoic stillness that would break the heart of any stone giant.

how does a little lama survive the pain and passion of this creation? one of my godsent and supportive sisters refused to take --"back the fuck-off" for an answer and continued to text me during this storm asking how she could possibly help and support me. i don't know how i can possibly help myself, how can i move from the old, into the new without completely breaking appart--so i didn't have any answer for her. however, somewhere from the eye of the storm and within the madness of knowing there had to be a way to get out of the hurricane--i felt a tiny, little answer from within..."it is time to batten down the hatches my darling". this is not the most comforting of answers i have ever received mind you. i was looking for something along the lines of..."this too shall pass", "go to such and such address and ask for guru so and so, while balancing on one foot and staring into the wind all your problems will be solved" or "three days more and you will be perfect" these are answers that might make it o.k. for me to batten down my hatches and sit tight during this storm--but just the thought of weathering the storm without the comfort of perfection on the other end did not feel like meat enough for me to sink my teeth into.

yet--something on the inside is responding, warming to the idea, relaxing into the space just a tiny bit. Now the next thing i'm going to say is making me laugh even to think about it--a welcome change of mood certainly--so if a little upcurling sneaks to outer edges of your lips on this one, then indulge with complete abandon...odly--a 1980'S rockin' superballad comes to mind..."i'm holding out for a hero" ... skipping all the obvious and mundane ideas that i am waiting for some superhero to sweep me off my feet and rescue me from the darkness within i offer the following video for indulgence, reference, mood-changing and musical power to change energy when words alone won't do...



all that being said--here's today's bottom line... i was the one who called in all sorts of change of epic proportions, i'm the one who lay down on the symbollic bed when i could clearly see the damn thing was burning out of control, i jumped on the back of the phoenix in an attempt to survive the flames--so batten down the hatches lama--january might singe the wingtips just a bit, but keep it in perspective--would you rather be back in december drowning in poseidon's flood?
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Now playing: Ben E. King - Stand by Me
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

all the answers

i feel quite certain there will be more on this topic to follow, but felt compelled to get this little bit down as the thought occurred...

in my last entry i had this burning question feel about how i could find the time, give the concentration, etc. etc. etc.--i have realized it is these questions that are the problem, not my answers, or lack thereof whatsoever.

rather i assert this theory--just spend 8 days with absolutely no plans on the coast of baja, california, see how quickly all those silly questions fall into perspective--or just fall away altogether. it's amazing how simply living is such a gift. gratitude to the universe--little lama is truly blessed!!!!

i don't think there's any question that the world's hugest blazing orange, full moon rising out of the sea of cortez can't bring into perspective, i'm just sayin'... "i would gaze at your face the whole night through..."