The Day of Venus (Ⅳ)

Dreams don’t have collars or strainers–they are big chunks of cardammon and star anise in your teeth, so what do we do with that? We find a way to have it slide into and out of our mouths, and back into The Bowl.

Behind the words you say I want them to be true. I want the curtain to be drawn back to see the stage as you say it’s set. I want to float under the sky without caution, with my eyes meditating on the moon, in a harbor you’ve created. ~ I want the words I say to be as true as a curtain drawn to reveal the stage set exactly as I say it is set. I want to float under the sky without caution, the moon in my body, in a harbor I have created for myself.

Energy is transported, transmuted, transferred, received, given, and stored. But never lost, and never created without the alchemical process involving what has already been created.

Oh how the very things that break our hearts bring us closer to ourselves, closer to God.

It counts for something–your eyes giving squinty smiles to people passing by, the encouragement you give to a stranger in line at winco, the wise crack you exchanged with your coworker, the graceful departure, the supportive gesture, a note for your lover beside the coffee pot. The invisible work is the way you move in the world–not your title, your degree, or your craft.

I found a lion whispering in my stomach, no roaring for days. The quiver in my voice is what I banish, and I am learning to say it straight from my ribcage, and from the red of my womb.

I trust myself enough to follow the feeling of ecstasy to it’s end.

I reclaim time, by giving myself my time–playing my music, typing like this, paying close attention to what I am participating in, being selective, and re-directive.. How To Redirect Yourself: Draw attention to simple sensations that make you feel good about your world, yourself–start with the simplest of things such as the way the colors in the sky contrast, how orange the moon is, how soft the fabric is against your skin. Look at any distractive or destructive time thief of a thought and say ‘NO’ the way you would to someone about to step into oncoming traffic, then with relief take a hold of your shoulders and walk yourself home.

What I notice in another, is within me as well.

Your breathing is your own, is your messenger, is your teacher, is your anchor. I honed in on the pit of my stomach that feels like fire and I imagined it spreading through my body via my blood. I pretended to be a woven basket of tangerines and lemons next to the clothesline.

The fixation on one perspective is to be studied–catch it like a slippery fish–that moment where your mind is heading toward choosing an idea to look for within the words others say, the world itself

We create what we fixate on.

Made of All

There once was a River
in love with a Tree,
from his bark, to his roots,
to the valley he feeds.

"I'll show him my heart.
How close can I get?"
she sang in sweet day-streams
around his grass bed. 

One day he was swaying,
blown by the Wind--
all her whisping beauty
enveloping them.

"How I long to move you,"
the River cried out.
"But look what the Wind did--
I'm grateful somehow."

He spent his days glowing,
warmed by the Sun.
His branches were growing,
inviting everyone.

"If only you could absorb me--
feel all I have within,
but look how you're giving
to the world we're both in."

River spent her time laughing,
felt the love from his leaves.
They played in the soil.
They kissed through the breeze.

Every night he was shining,
all silver bright green.
The Moon she was smiling,
upon everything.

"What's it like to be up there--
beaming down from above?
Is it only from up there,
that he feels any love?"

River cried as the Rain fell,
the earth drinking in.
She grew tired of drowning,
and decided to swim. 

She was led to the Ocean.
She danced with the Wind.
The Sun rose in the morning,
and the Moon smiled again. 

My love is the Wind,
the Moon 
and the Sun. 
My love is the Rain.
Our love is One. 

My love is the Wind, 
the Moon and the Sun.
My love is the Rain. 
All Our Love is One.

Freeflow Friday (ll)

We are as beaming as the moments we spend tending to the dark.

“How willing are you to consider that you are the source of your own suffering?” -Questions Before We Begin

The moments come–the ones where you are right where you need to be to see 3 prisms in the sky, find agate on the playground, meet the author of your poem face-to-face. We have to be ready for them.

I’d like to stay in my world all through the day, is what it is. I feel like I am longing to dive but the teacher insists I keep my lifejacket on. Who is this teacher? Mostly just the one in my mind (the source). And it is more a feeling than anything I can put my hands on. I find movement when I am here, then when I sing from the gourd of my stomach. “Movement is good” and the tide changes with the moon. It takes our slippers off of the porch and leaves dead fish under our clothes lines. `

I am learning more and more every day of how attracted I am to the stillness of things. I am already hooked to what is about to be said when someone is very slow to respond, closes their eyes even. I do this. I like to knead the question around in my gut to gather the right images and herbs.

Anything that promotes or insinuates superiority is a lie. -lessons Pluto’s in Scorpio’s are learning and teaching.

Patience is a different kind of strength–overlooked and underrated. The pauses, the simple offering of your presence. Letting a 4-year old stare at the rocks on the ground before getting into the car, lingering in the pulses of silence after a poem is read, before swooning.

Taking time to look at all I’ve accomplished because a mentor said it’s good for me: I have accomplished… a) following my gut and dreams to go into teaching, then following my gut about how I want to be teaching in the world. b) Within all positions I was authentic with my students and colleagues, and unable (or just stubborn) to perform tasks I didn’t believe in or felt caused harm to students. This is an accomplishment according to my soul anyway. c) I’m getting better everyday at choosing my needs and putting my goals first. Those are a hefty enough 3 eh?

I cry and kick the air, run in place, turn it into words to get the heavy off. I lift and push and dance it into the wind up off of me, just so I can fly.

We ought to be careful of the temptation to turn anything that challenges the desires of our egos–to be right, to be better, to be more–into villains, “less than’s” or “incorrect’s”.