We read this at the jail

We went around... and each woman read a stanza. Some whispering, some broken. One woman settling into it more and more with each word, like sleeves she slipped her bare arms through.   And I could hear her wonderment, the revelation as she went on.

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

-Maya Angelou

How do we find inner peace? I'm doing this as a unit at the Del Valle Jail- it is my honor and privilege to witness these women with their great wisdom, their great hardships. Their violence and grief, and guilt.  I am beside myself with awe as we study together.  As our lives and paths intermingle- me with my stories, and theirs. 

Inner peace as a building block, the root note of the chord we are vibrating... vibrating.

Pain as our teacher. Shame humbling us.  Nobility of the soul, setting us free. In the darkest of places. Fenced in by circumstance.  Liberated by ineffable light... in the mind.  In the heart.

True wisdom dawning at the rocky bottom of loss.. women alone in a jail cell, finding themselves and each other.

I'm here... I offer my eyes. I let the rebelliousness and tensions roll off of me like water, and I laugh with them.  I offer my heart, and my sincere unknowing. My dedication to our mutual illumination. 

Next week our class will be on humility and how to develop a sincere sense of good will for all.  We may dance, we may sing.  We may write each other notes... we will change the way we think.  Instead of looking for what's wrong, we will look for what's right. And in a place where your neighbor is a potentially vicious stranger, we'll pass an hour as friends.

My Little Bird

Oh where oh where does my little bird sing?

Over the mountains and across the stream

And beyond the river she is waiting for me

Oh where oh where does my little bird sing?

Oh where oh where does my only love hide?

Below the ocean and beyond the sky

And deep in the valley where my lonely dove cries

Oh where oh where does my only love hide?

Oh who oh who will teach me to sing

Like the bright leaves of autumn and the dawning of spring

Like roses and kisses my favorite things

Oh who oh who will teach me to sing?

Oh who oh who will teach me to fly

Below the water and beyond the sky

And deep in the valley where my only love hides

Oh who oh who will teach me to fly?

And when she did find me she wrapped me in wings,

Held me in starlight and drenched me in dreams

Pulled me so close then she whispered to me

And taught me the song I was destined to sing:

May goodness fly with thee

May goodness fly with thee

May goodness fly with thee

May goodness fly with thee

When you love somebody like that

When you love somebody like that

How do you move on?

When you love them with every ounce and fiber

of your being.

And even more than you knew you had

When you pour yourself over them

Like milk over cereal

And wish hope and pray that the mixture is sweet.

What do you do

When time has passed

And the love beats on

Like a wingless bird in your heart?

Do you cry out, or die, silently

a million times a day

for eternity?

Do you mourn, wail, moan

Shaking the memories from your hair

your teeth

your bone?

From your cells, your DNA?

How do you do this?

Is there some un-catalyst, some trick to untie the knot tied so tight

That did not fit quite right.

Is there some other way to love, I just have not discovered yet?

Still, each smile betraying just a little pain

Each sun rise, a re-remembering why they're not here

I brace for each new step, forwards, not backwards

Speaking in sweet words to my new beloved: myself.

"Your pain is the breaking of the shell which encloses your understanding." -Kahlil Gibran

There's just you.

There's only you.
You and you.
I and I.
The same.

There's only you, only one.
Lonely, only, empty, pain.
Raw and ripped,
Tired and gripped,
The weight of the world, not one, but many
Backs and shoulders aching with greed, violence, and pain.
I can understand how they act that way, and I can see it, clear as day.
When the pain is too unbearable to feel, we throw it up and out and upon the faces of those around us, even or perhaps mostly, those we love.
I've seen it within, so within it is without.
A projection, an infection.
So have compassion, and know your heart.
That is the only remedy.
To know your heart you have to feel, you have to feel to heal.
Oh it hurts, and it isn't easy, but together we hold the net.
An intricately woven web of same, of same of same.

If you want to connect and share yourself, you have to open up and be vulnerable. When you do that others can see into you, and share themselves too. This way we support each other. But many times we've walked that line and been dropped carelessly like a glass vase.
The pain built up until we could take it no more. So we built a wall, became numb. Pulled up the drawbridge and then there was no one home.
And how many are left there, alone in their castles. Raising children with broken hearts who raise children with broken hearts.

Oh pain pain pain, you strange intolerable beast.
You doctor, you medicine, you relief. Let us feel humanity's grief. Let us hide no longer behind veils of feigned perfection and half-hearted chuckles. I see you, your white knuckles. Clenched in fists. It hurts it hurts, make room to feel. Stay up all night, take back the time you wasted trying to correct your reflection, finalize your beauty, success and perfection.  All things fade, except the bright holy light, all things get lost, except the all pervading, all things end, except that which has no beginning. Breathing in and out, there is no time. There is no I. There is no giving and no receiving. No giver and no receiver. The phone hangs off the hook. I'm alone, and I lost my way.  I can't find my way back to perfection. I dial the phone, hello hello? No one is there. I'm thinking, I stare. I turn to face the white light, that lives inside me.  Hello my true face, the faceless one. I remember you, I go home. I find the love beyond the beating heart, the love that beats behind art, the love the floats like clouds, like that moon who loves us, who in belonging, belongs to us. If I was only in the woods, with my bare feet on the earth, I would know my worth. For she is me, that queen of the forest, that one who holds me in her secret bosom, the crickets chirping their pure songs of delight. I am she, earthly mother, womb wisdom, holy peaceful night.
Goodnight.

Public Service Announcement 5/7/17

I have a strong conviction that Donald Trump is going to wake up, like Angulimala. Can we hold him and his heart in the light, with the intention that the still small flame within him will burn brighter and brighter until he's illuminated, and realizes what he's doing? Can't you see it now, that tiny orb beating inside him? Look closely.  It's the same as yours and mine. Then he will stop what he's doing and become a champion for peace, correcting and improving everything he's done wrong, and becoming a leader and visionary of the new world we all know is possible. This is the vision I am having. If we all hold this vision together, holding his heart in love and seeing that flame glow and grow... maybe it will happen! I believe in the power of prayer, the power of intention and the power of conviction. I've seen it work wonders in my own life and in the lives of friends. Think about how powerful it is just to be witnessed, just to be held in the loving space of a compassionate friend. Sharing whatever you have to share in such a space can allow you to release and transform. Let's hold our president in this light, instead of in hate. Please help me make this vision a reality!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angulimala

Martin Luther King Day 1/16/17

Ideas

I'm on a positive wavelength. One I slipped into, heart open, heart in front.  In the mind, there are many pathways, many ideas, many contradictions and traps.  Sometimes I think myself into a tearful hole and feel immobilized, like the splintered remains of an explosion.  And then woven throughout there is a peace, there is an understanding, and an all encompassing love. A forgiveness and an acceptance of what can never be solved.  It is inherently unsolvable. And so huge.
And then there is the pressing question of time, embodied life- the years ahead and the years behind.  There is the ever present reality of free will, and the willful surrender of the guiding force of goodness and strength. I see it's mark on the face of beloved friends and on strangers, in the eyes of the Gods and Goddess in the Hindu paintings and the serene winking eye of the Buddha.  Who are these ideals, these Gods and Goddesses who beckon us with their fearsome love and compassion.  How can we tap into them and entreat them, belong to them and with them, become them and let them blossom within our selves?
And then there is the question of belief, the rabbit hole of confusion that leads us from one dead end in the maze to another.  And the choice again of free will, and which path to take.
I believe that the truth is a pathless land, and yet I have seen many seekers of truth with bosoms full of love. Whatever rituals and markings they may carry, they have found something pure and holy, and in this world saturated in superficiality, I bow to them in hope and faith.
What brings me my sense of stability, my sense of I?  When I put on a cute pair of jeans and walk out, I know I look good and I feel good, I feel a bit better. And yet I can see the triviality of it- this externalization of what I long for inside- a feeling of completion, of expression, of wholeness, and of beauty.  Of control.
Is this wrong or bad?
Where do we draw the line?
Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day and I listened to a speech he gave on the three evils of society, materialism, militarism, and racism.  I wonder what makes some one greedy and what makes some one kind. I wonder at the linear, earthly and logical ways in which people live illogical lives, a part of a greater system laden with hidden potholes and falsehoods.  Built on domination, competition and destruction.  And I am a product and a piece of this giant web, I am here, a luminous spark, a simple embodied miracle of female.  And what am I doing with my life?  What contradictions burden me and what falsehoods betray me, what beauty and ignorance glisten in my smile.  What honesty and frustration grace my good will, and what lies and dogmas prevent me from truly seeing myself?  I am a non-self, an emanation of light in the physical.  I am a reincarnated soul many light years from home.  I am an alien to this rough world, a fearful, tearful little girl.  And I am spider woman, tirelessly weaving my way home.
Thank you divine spark of life for this opportunity, this language to create with. It brings me infinite pleasure to be able to do so, and to share it.  God bless this world.

Fracking

First of a series

Are you my savior?

I'm working on this song… Finding myself within the process of exploring deeply with another person.  Untangling unhealthy attachment patterns. Understanding and learning how to be whole within relationship.  Ouch and yes! No and more please! Do ya feel me?

Are you my savior?

Or are you my captor?

Sometimes it seems hard to tell the difference.

If I was someone

I would be no one.

A voice for the voiceless aching need.

Who will comfort me.

Who will confront me?

Words 2/24/17

The macrocosm pieces of the microcosm of the whole. Or, a reflection. Or more- less, plus some- intangible extras.  How does it all fit together? Yes that's what I'm trying to say. Relevant to myself- is the mere act of getting in a car an offense? I'm waking up on a timeline- a thundering river thrashing through, whereas before I was glued to my raft, could only see the walls. How much damage has been done to this Earth? Where am I, and who am I, really?  Is getting in a car and showing up in a place that has no eyes to see me helpful? Is it better to live amongst the flowers and make no impact there?

I have questions, the same ones, and yet they take new forms, they gain gravity, they meander and they recreate themselves.  I am surprised to find myself a beautiful woman, coming alive at just the right time.  Grasping at handfuls of air.  And other hands, searching, lonely. Trying to build or unbuild something. Collecting pieces of information and throwing them at a blank wall. We are collections, and yet we are pure, unadulterated presence.  We are not of this world, and yet we are in it.  We are vulnerable creatures, in need of love. We have access to all of it, now, and yet we sip from puddles- each others and those forgotten ones.  Someone came to my well and memorized my lines, the shape and curve of me-
Then he quickly forgot- as the tides of me welled up and the waves threatened to grow.  The clouds gathered in the once clear blue sky- reminding us of weather patterns.  He was just someone I met, unexpectedly, as most stories begin.

Unraveling the handfuls of time.  Unraveling the strings of bellowing beasts who prefer not to be tethered. How many times we tie and untie, trying to hold ourselves to the mast.  But the ship is rocking and we have no control. Better to stand on the waves, remembering the breath at the center and not thinking we can conclude anything at all.

How many words leaping and thrusting from mouths.  How many bodies born warm and riggling, perfect and forgotten already.

I know, none, I am one, I am whole, I am sea foam, I am beached whale, I am deep sea diver, I am home, at last, on the shores of my own soul. I am the deep insides, the empty pocket of beggars, the stolen moments of mothers, the last cigarette smoke break on an empty office block,
I am horrible, horrified human crying why, why me?
I am grateful, indulgent, superficial mess.
I am beautiful, untethered flying free.
I am words words, and hands,
I am you.

You are me.