2/2/12 The Lorax ecstasy
It speaks not just for the trees, but to the trees. With unconditional love, and unconditional peace toward all beings, it is possible to speak to nature, to the spirit that moves in all things, and to feel its immediate response, its love for you, its desire for you to have all you need to grow and heal. Speak with the trees, and in your life, also speak for them. It is an ecstasy.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
2/1/12 that nameless ecstasy
It feels like being boxed in with cardboard, and it smells like rain. it is freely offered by almost everyone you meet. It hits you like a velvet mitt in the chest and doesn't make you double over, but makes you want to stretch wider. The nameless ecstasy calls out to you low from the bare branches of frozen trees, and it follows you home in the dark, protectively. The nameless ecstasy will not let you go, will not let you go hungry, will assert its right to meet with you again and again.
It feels like being boxed in with cardboard, and it smells like rain. it is freely offered by almost everyone you meet. It hits you like a velvet mitt in the chest and doesn't make you double over, but makes you want to stretch wider. The nameless ecstasy calls out to you low from the bare branches of frozen trees, and it follows you home in the dark, protectively. The nameless ecstasy will not let you go, will not let you go hungry, will assert its right to meet with you again and again.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
1/27/12 The weight of a cat
I can't believe I've gone my whole life till now to relax and feel the weight of a cat on my lap. They drape like big bean-bags, settling in so the weight sinks on your thighs to the extent the cat's skin will permit...they sink and drape...is it luxuriantly? And you feel the presence of those little bones in there somewhere, but the bones give a little and allow the drape, the heaviness like a sleeping baby.
I can't believe I've gone my whole life till now to relax and feel the weight of a cat on my lap. They drape like big bean-bags, settling in so the weight sinks on your thighs to the extent the cat's skin will permit...they sink and drape...is it luxuriantly? And you feel the presence of those little bones in there somewhere, but the bones give a little and allow the drape, the heaviness like a sleeping baby.
01.26.12 Frankenfeet
This isn't truly an ecstasy, more like a modest comfort, but so what. Wore hiking boots to work. I don't know why this invention tickles me so much, but it does. The hiking boots immobilized foot and ankle, precisely like masonry bricks, and my legs like posts rising from them. I felt like a Karloff Frankenstein monster, my well-protected feet falling like stones with each step. Feet snug and cozy like they're in bomb shelters with provisions enough for six months post-apocalypse, feet like they're in bank safes padded with walls of ridiculous paper, feet like they're in an isolated cave in the arctic, waiting to be revived by a foolish, journal-keeping physician-explorer. My feet were Frankenfeet--comfy, padded, remote.
This isn't truly an ecstasy, more like a modest comfort, but so what. Wore hiking boots to work. I don't know why this invention tickles me so much, but it does. The hiking boots immobilized foot and ankle, precisely like masonry bricks, and my legs like posts rising from them. I felt like a Karloff Frankenstein monster, my well-protected feet falling like stones with each step. Feet snug and cozy like they're in bomb shelters with provisions enough for six months post-apocalypse, feet like they're in bank safes padded with walls of ridiculous paper, feet like they're in an isolated cave in the arctic, waiting to be revived by a foolish, journal-keeping physician-explorer. My feet were Frankenfeet--comfy, padded, remote.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
01.15.12 The Yertle thing
Declaring myself an expert on all that I see, all that I do, all that I am. Recently looked up a few websites for locals who may or may not have more or less experience on being themselves than I have. What I find is that people can set up structures and barriers to getting to know people, people can set themselves up as experts, teachers, elders, superiors, website controllers, and still have little portions of their hearts closed off from the people they might want to connect with.
Therefore, it is with awesome tenderness, starstruck affiliation, obsequious utterances and nimble ego-pandering that I declare myself an incomparable expert teacher, reminder, CEO and webmaster, of all things ME! And all things that I see, intuit, feel and know! I am the queen of all I survey (okay, but I'll have to modify that, and say that unlike Yertle, I'm not squishing all the poor shmucks stuck underneath me....I have more like a levitation thing going on, or a hovercraft, yeah).
Ecstasy, declaring oneself an expert on one's own body of knowledge.
Declaring myself an expert on all that I see, all that I do, all that I am. Recently looked up a few websites for locals who may or may not have more or less experience on being themselves than I have. What I find is that people can set up structures and barriers to getting to know people, people can set themselves up as experts, teachers, elders, superiors, website controllers, and still have little portions of their hearts closed off from the people they might want to connect with.
Therefore, it is with awesome tenderness, starstruck affiliation, obsequious utterances and nimble ego-pandering that I declare myself an incomparable expert teacher, reminder, CEO and webmaster, of all things ME! And all things that I see, intuit, feel and know! I am the queen of all I survey (okay, but I'll have to modify that, and say that unlike Yertle, I'm not squishing all the poor shmucks stuck underneath me....I have more like a levitation thing going on, or a hovercraft, yeah).
Ecstasy, declaring oneself an expert on one's own body of knowledge.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
This is the first (& only so far) time that I have been brought to ecstacy by a piece of music. The winding path of notes formed a golden color for me that started to break down the barriers between compartments in my mind & body. Like how I imagine, when I am giving someone a deep tissue massage, the correct, sensitively given pressure breaks down "adhesions" in the muscles, helping the client feel lighter, freer, released. In this piece of music, my adhesions were broken down, the clanging bars of filaments between recesses, between cells of being. The constructed walls of separation, the plaster and mortar and bricks crumble. I am again and again on the edge of ecstasy, with each rapid-fire note, and I stay as long as I can bear it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyFwwIHw6nw&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kyFwwIHw6nw&feature=related
Sunday, November 20, 2011
11/19/11 cute kids
The most adorable kid in the world--my 4 1/2 year old nephew, coming to wake me up with his bright, conspiratorial smile at 6 am. Hi sweetie, I say, his little head at eye level where I'm sleeping in the basement guest room. I'm not ready to get up yet, but I will be in about an hour. Can you come back and wake me up then? And then he agrees, goes back upstairs. Puts me in mind of all the people I would do things for, any time of the day or night. Puts me in mind of all the bother that people create for each other, and how precious it is. How I would love being awakened at any time, for any need, for love. Of course, he plays with blocks or cars or something above my head, and things are dropping on the floor/ceiling and I'm ready to get up within ten minutes. And he laughs and he's happy and little and a small armful to pick up.
The most adorable kid in the world--my 4 1/2 year old nephew, coming to wake me up with his bright, conspiratorial smile at 6 am. Hi sweetie, I say, his little head at eye level where I'm sleeping in the basement guest room. I'm not ready to get up yet, but I will be in about an hour. Can you come back and wake me up then? And then he agrees, goes back upstairs. Puts me in mind of all the people I would do things for, any time of the day or night. Puts me in mind of all the bother that people create for each other, and how precious it is. How I would love being awakened at any time, for any need, for love. Of course, he plays with blocks or cars or something above my head, and things are dropping on the floor/ceiling and I'm ready to get up within ten minutes. And he laughs and he's happy and little and a small armful to pick up.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
10/4/2011 - horse manure
Great honking piles of it, black and fly-ridden, at the Bunker Hills Stables, and the groundskeeper Jim opens the gates to the paddock and lets me in. Round, greenish brown and ripe-smelling, flakey, I scoop shovelsful into my plastic tote bins to haul home to my garden. Keeping all the car windows open, I drive home with my dark, delicious mess. Here's what I think of--the ripe, green mats of grass on the underside of lawnmowers, a little of the sweetness of shit, like that guy smelled in the outhouse scene in Ulysses by James Joyce...the end of a romance...and something else. As I'm driving home, it doesn't smell so awful, more like band-aids, and I'm wondering if that's just the perpetual dose of worming meds that horses have to take...smells like a cross between band-aid and cunt...innocent and forthright, like it can't help smelling like the inside of a horse's colon, and what all it's been through. Katharine's raspberries all tasted like a mild, fruity version of the horse's colon, now that I know the smell, cause she mostly uses horse manure. Sensible, it smells like (unlike the oratorical version of horseshit), and willing. Horseshit smells like a future garden like lettuces and parsnips and tomatoes yet to come, smells like the pieces of clay soil and humus that blend and melt with it. I love the compost, love the dark manure as much as if I had expelled it myself.
Great honking piles of it, black and fly-ridden, at the Bunker Hills Stables, and the groundskeeper Jim opens the gates to the paddock and lets me in. Round, greenish brown and ripe-smelling, flakey, I scoop shovelsful into my plastic tote bins to haul home to my garden. Keeping all the car windows open, I drive home with my dark, delicious mess. Here's what I think of--the ripe, green mats of grass on the underside of lawnmowers, a little of the sweetness of shit, like that guy smelled in the outhouse scene in Ulysses by James Joyce...the end of a romance...and something else. As I'm driving home, it doesn't smell so awful, more like band-aids, and I'm wondering if that's just the perpetual dose of worming meds that horses have to take...smells like a cross between band-aid and cunt...innocent and forthright, like it can't help smelling like the inside of a horse's colon, and what all it's been through. Katharine's raspberries all tasted like a mild, fruity version of the horse's colon, now that I know the smell, cause she mostly uses horse manure. Sensible, it smells like (unlike the oratorical version of horseshit), and willing. Horseshit smells like a future garden like lettuces and parsnips and tomatoes yet to come, smells like the pieces of clay soil and humus that blend and melt with it. I love the compost, love the dark manure as much as if I had expelled it myself.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
09/21/11 Trees that listen
It was one of the triplet giant cottonwoods in the backyard, the one that most often gets my attention. I wanted to meditate, and so I put my arms around the tree for that moment, to stop and listen. Stillness. Then because I'm singing a lot this week, I just started singing something...the tree responded immediately. I felt something "pop" inside the tree, and it suddenly felt like the tree was showing me its whole life, the fibers from below the strength with which it holds its trunk, the swaying of branches so high above us (it's a mature tree-over 40 feet, I'd guess), I even felt the fluids moving below its bark-skin...The tree heard my song, then i was feeling the tree move and flex its muscles.
It was one of the triplet giant cottonwoods in the backyard, the one that most often gets my attention. I wanted to meditate, and so I put my arms around the tree for that moment, to stop and listen. Stillness. Then because I'm singing a lot this week, I just started singing something...the tree responded immediately. I felt something "pop" inside the tree, and it suddenly felt like the tree was showing me its whole life, the fibers from below the strength with which it holds its trunk, the swaying of branches so high above us (it's a mature tree-over 40 feet, I'd guess), I even felt the fluids moving below its bark-skin...The tree heard my song, then i was feeling the tree move and flex its muscles.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
9/20/11 Trees that heal themselves
The siberian elms in the backyard, dozens of them, most years have bare scraggly fingers scraping toward the sky from the woodlot. But this year they reach (I finally noticed tonight) they reach with full, bushy, plump, leafy limbs, healed, I'm sure, by the boatloads of rains we've had this year. Really, you would have thought most of them dead, but they've only been dry. This year, lots of moisture.
The siberian elms in the backyard, dozens of them, most years have bare scraggly fingers scraping toward the sky from the woodlot. But this year they reach (I finally noticed tonight) they reach with full, bushy, plump, leafy limbs, healed, I'm sure, by the boatloads of rains we've had this year. Really, you would have thought most of them dead, but they've only been dry. This year, lots of moisture.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
8/25/11 The changing and important emotional lives of men
It used to be that I wouldn't pay much attention to men's feelings--either they didn't seem (to me) to have much, or they seemed to favor that one--anger, and I had to duck. Lately, I've been witness to a wider and wider range of sensitivity, self-reflection and tenderness from the men in my life. Recently helped a teen young man with a range of feelings over a breakup. At work, had a man dissolve to tears on the phone with me (among other things) and I had to apologize for being too harsh. Also, men my age on the dating scene seem to be reeling from the feelings they have around rejection and dishonesty from...women (??!!) they've encountered, and setting up certain boundaries for themselves. Go men!! Have those feelings!! Talk amongst yourselves!! Figure them out!! We can help each other!!
It used to be that I wouldn't pay much attention to men's feelings--either they didn't seem (to me) to have much, or they seemed to favor that one--anger, and I had to duck. Lately, I've been witness to a wider and wider range of sensitivity, self-reflection and tenderness from the men in my life. Recently helped a teen young man with a range of feelings over a breakup. At work, had a man dissolve to tears on the phone with me (among other things) and I had to apologize for being too harsh. Also, men my age on the dating scene seem to be reeling from the feelings they have around rejection and dishonesty from...women (??!!) they've encountered, and setting up certain boundaries for themselves. Go men!! Have those feelings!! Talk amongst yourselves!! Figure them out!! We can help each other!!
Monday, August 15, 2011
8/15/11
Each step I take, braiding in the various colored strands of my life, each step I take in fulfillment of my own personal journey is weaving us all together in a whole, each step resounds throughout creation, brings us all closer to fulfillment, to wholeness. Each step I take that brings me pleasure and joy, in service, is an ecstasy. Each step is pure love.
Each step I take, braiding in the various colored strands of my life, each step I take in fulfillment of my own personal journey is weaving us all together in a whole, each step resounds throughout creation, brings us all closer to fulfillment, to wholeness. Each step I take that brings me pleasure and joy, in service, is an ecstasy. Each step is pure love.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
8/13/11 The opportunity to use some rusty skills
You are just wandering through life, more or less following your path, when all of a sudden, you hear a request for help from someone. She needs help with something, and you realize that you have just the right skills for the job, but it would require reaching back through time, and dusting off the tools in a remote section of your brain. What do you do? Reach and dust and help. That's what. The other day someone requested that a little blurb be translated into French, and I just jumped right in. Wishing I had more descriptive language, finding that online dictionaries and idiomatic translations serve well. Now I'm translating a blurb a day, at about 40 minutes a pop, getting some experience in something I love to do.
You are just wandering through life, more or less following your path, when all of a sudden, you hear a request for help from someone. She needs help with something, and you realize that you have just the right skills for the job, but it would require reaching back through time, and dusting off the tools in a remote section of your brain. What do you do? Reach and dust and help. That's what. The other day someone requested that a little blurb be translated into French, and I just jumped right in. Wishing I had more descriptive language, finding that online dictionaries and idiomatic translations serve well. Now I'm translating a blurb a day, at about 40 minutes a pop, getting some experience in something I love to do.
Monday, August 8, 2011
8/6/11 Telling your wishes to the elements, to the trees
(Can't remember where I read this?)... There is another way of networking besides the WWW. It is all of the elements and elementals of nature. Simply tell your wishes, your desires for networking, for healing, for connection, to these beings, to a being in nature that you feel connected to already. These beings will spread word for you, bringing your desires back to you, to fruition. Talk with Gaia. She responds. I know, it's a book by James Endredy--2012 Beyond, or something.
I told 3 trees of a certain type of person I wanted more of in my life, and within a week or two, now have an abundance of that type of friendship. Activity partners.
(Can't remember where I read this?)... There is another way of networking besides the WWW. It is all of the elements and elementals of nature. Simply tell your wishes, your desires for networking, for healing, for connection, to these beings, to a being in nature that you feel connected to already. These beings will spread word for you, bringing your desires back to you, to fruition. Talk with Gaia. She responds. I know, it's a book by James Endredy--2012 Beyond, or something.
I told 3 trees of a certain type of person I wanted more of in my life, and within a week or two, now have an abundance of that type of friendship. Activity partners.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
08-05-11 Nightmares turning into dreams come true.
Nightmares of the past are coming back to haunt in deliriously delicious ways. No, not evil--there are others who do that, and I have done that in the past. Monsters and broken wrecks of ships and houses and buildings are showing up in nightly dreams and daydreams, with these beautifully haunting repairs. Lines drawn across where walls and doors were missing in buildings. Pixie dust. Shimmery orange. Gold. Instead of flimsy curtains or drapes, the windows are coated with this shimmery stuff. Beauty, iridescent nacre, only of light. People who were menacing are showing beneficent selves behind ogre masks, things that were monsters are dropping their cloaks, revealing partners in healing. All is glowing, all is healing, all is beautiful.
Nightmares of the past are coming back to haunt in deliriously delicious ways. No, not evil--there are others who do that, and I have done that in the past. Monsters and broken wrecks of ships and houses and buildings are showing up in nightly dreams and daydreams, with these beautifully haunting repairs. Lines drawn across where walls and doors were missing in buildings. Pixie dust. Shimmery orange. Gold. Instead of flimsy curtains or drapes, the windows are coated with this shimmery stuff. Beauty, iridescent nacre, only of light. People who were menacing are showing beneficent selves behind ogre masks, things that were monsters are dropping their cloaks, revealing partners in healing. All is glowing, all is healing, all is beautiful.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
7/29/11 Healing dreams
You don't know what you're in for. Healing dreams. You're just thinking about healing, passing along the good information, the reflective thoughts. And then you lie down for a bit, for a little nap, a rest. And the rest of the world comes clomping and stomping in. The plant and animal kingdom...they tell you what to do, they tell you how to heal. And it's unconventional, it's different. But you do it and it works. You dream the healing techniques and they work.
You don't know what you're in for. Healing dreams. You're just thinking about healing, passing along the good information, the reflective thoughts. And then you lie down for a bit, for a little nap, a rest. And the rest of the world comes clomping and stomping in. The plant and animal kingdom...they tell you what to do, they tell you how to heal. And it's unconventional, it's different. But you do it and it works. You dream the healing techniques and they work.
7/28/11 Viny tomato plants 6 feet tall
They come up on you like a surprise, they slouch against their trellising and staking, they droop a little with the heavy rains and the summer heat. But these tomatoes have a survival instinct that won't quit--they already reach over your head despite their turns and kinks, and the thick vines, the thick vines are growing as robust as a good carrot. These tomatoes know how to grow.
They come up on you like a surprise, they slouch against their trellising and staking, they droop a little with the heavy rains and the summer heat. But these tomatoes have a survival instinct that won't quit--they already reach over your head despite their turns and kinks, and the thick vines, the thick vines are growing as robust as a good carrot. These tomatoes know how to grow.
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