12/11/10 Home is where the heart...
Yesterday, the illumination of my heart chakra at work. So many things to think about, such a busy day. And there I am in the middle of the chaos and trying to both feel and be better than my anger, and then my heart chakra opens up like the collar of a frill-necked lizard, and there on the inside of the cone and by then the cone is like one of those science museum exhibits where you toss a coin in and it spirals into the center of the cone on its edge and then circles the central drain. So my heart chakra is smooth inside, not frilled or reptilian, and I can feel all the houses I’ve ever lived in, and they are like little Monopoly game pieces, only their proper color and proportion, and warm-feeling, and I can feel all the little pieces of real estate that I’ve lived on, for this and a few lifetimes before and after this one. At least a half-dozen rickety college apartments, plus that 6th floor walk-up in Paris, and the tent that summer in Alaska, and the great outdoors another summer. And they are drawn out I guess maybe in order of importance on the inside of my heart chakra cone. And since the heart chakra is about relationships, I just instantly think, home is where the heart is, home is where the heart is. Places we have lived are written permanently in our lives, our hearts, how we relate to the world. Heart is where home is.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
12/9/10 piebald humans
A guy in the home-commute rush tonight with half an eyebrow white, half black. A gal I knew in grad school who had a patch of white exactly the size and shape of a yarmulke sideslipping its bobby-pin. A gal I knew growing up who had one brown eye with black eyebrow, one blue eye with white lashes & brow. We are such fine and beautiful specimens of animals, we humans. We come in various colors, shapes, sizes, and even in spotted, patterns. Actually, speaking of spots, I have seen differently-pigmented spots on the skin of some of my brown-skinned friends. And freckles. And my son, who has a teeny bit of brown-skinned heritage, has a few light-pigmented spots on his leg. Skin, hair, acoutrements. We are not solids, all. We are bright and various and rangey: appaloosas, calicoes, tortoise-shells, pintos, tabby-stripes, paints.
A guy in the home-commute rush tonight with half an eyebrow white, half black. A gal I knew in grad school who had a patch of white exactly the size and shape of a yarmulke sideslipping its bobby-pin. A gal I knew growing up who had one brown eye with black eyebrow, one blue eye with white lashes & brow. We are such fine and beautiful specimens of animals, we humans. We come in various colors, shapes, sizes, and even in spotted, patterns. Actually, speaking of spots, I have seen differently-pigmented spots on the skin of some of my brown-skinned friends. And freckles. And my son, who has a teeny bit of brown-skinned heritage, has a few light-pigmented spots on his leg. Skin, hair, acoutrements. We are not solids, all. We are bright and various and rangey: appaloosas, calicoes, tortoise-shells, pintos, tabby-stripes, paints.
12/8/10 positive, peaceful engagement, artful interaction
Received info and a plea the other day from a friend involved in the group, the Forgiveness Project. Looking for someone to run their U.S. presence. And I actually knew a person and a group to network with, to pass the lead along to. Mediation and peaceful conflict resolution. That is, if your universe is one that has "conflict" that needs "resolution." It has been suggested to others and me to use words positively, to imagine positive language. How about instead of "conflict resolution," we take out the conflict, and have it be "peace resolution?" or instead of mediation, it could be artful interaction. Instead of creating a polar opposite for everything that is, we could dwell as much in the gooey good stuff as possible, the viney, ropey, gushy, crunchy, lovely, aromatic, stupendous creative landslide of interactions.
Received info and a plea the other day from a friend involved in the group, the Forgiveness Project. Looking for someone to run their U.S. presence. And I actually knew a person and a group to network with, to pass the lead along to. Mediation and peaceful conflict resolution. That is, if your universe is one that has "conflict" that needs "resolution." It has been suggested to others and me to use words positively, to imagine positive language. How about instead of "conflict resolution," we take out the conflict, and have it be "peace resolution?" or instead of mediation, it could be artful interaction. Instead of creating a polar opposite for everything that is, we could dwell as much in the gooey good stuff as possible, the viney, ropey, gushy, crunchy, lovely, aromatic, stupendous creative landslide of interactions.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
12/6/10 guidance
whether it's an intuition of something you want to do, or an almost audible voice in your head reminding you of your soul, your spirit, that evanescent something that leads you on in search of fulfillment, guidance is fantastic. The rustle of feathers, a voice that's like a melody from the cosmos, the feeling of doors opening before your feet, leading you in the new direction you were meant to go. Guidance points the way.
whether it's an intuition of something you want to do, or an almost audible voice in your head reminding you of your soul, your spirit, that evanescent something that leads you on in search of fulfillment, guidance is fantastic. The rustle of feathers, a voice that's like a melody from the cosmos, the feeling of doors opening before your feet, leading you in the new direction you were meant to go. Guidance points the way.
Monday, December 6, 2010
12/5/10 speaking in tongues
Other than one's own of course. Speaking in another tongue, letting another culture's thoughts spill out of your brain & slide off your tongue like trick skiers on a jump. Slorp around those words, feel them fill your mouth differently, like different food. And no, French does not sound all that romantic spoken. It's more like a long unintelligible slur until you can get the hang of it.
Other than one's own of course. Speaking in another tongue, letting another culture's thoughts spill out of your brain & slide off your tongue like trick skiers on a jump. Slorp around those words, feel them fill your mouth differently, like different food. And no, French does not sound all that romantic spoken. It's more like a long unintelligible slur until you can get the hang of it.
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