Today I listened to a Rabbi
give meditations on Moses and Adam
and how when God called to Adam
he had run and he had hid
and how when God called to Moses
in that bush, set ablaze
he replied, "Here I am"

and I understood that.

That subtle, inner difference
between resisting
and accepting
between mindless shame
and mindful presence

And I've been practicing the latter lately,
finding my firey shrubbed voice,
checking in with what is calling
and being there,
willfully.

If I'm sitting on the couch
I check in with that inner flame..
"Is this what I'm wanting in this moment?
(different than craving)
If the answer is Yes...
Then proceed with full acceptance of your choice..
no guilt, no "shoulds..."
Here I am.
Or, if the answer is No...
Then use that inner glimmer
and also your will
and co-create
what happens next.

Tonight,
checking in like Moses,
led me back to music making
back to strings and bows
and turning sheets
and finger beats.
No foot dragging duty involved.
Only awareness,
surprise,
joy
and flow.

What an adventure
this makes
everyday
life.

I saved a bird last summer.

Spotted its baby body
and it's broken, bloodied wing while walking.
(It was a baby tufted titmouse, so so precious)

Scooped it up
in a paper bag
and drove it to help.

I watched it in that bag
and its nature changed me.
It did not understand where it was going
or why it was now balancing on
wadded up tissue paper
instead of grass and branches
but it looked up at me so steadily
and it blinked so patiently
and it knew its limits so sweetly.

And so now I can't seem to stop
scanning streets and parking lots
pathways and alleyways
for creatures in need
of saving.

My Big Lesson
after being washed up onto the other side
of witnessing
cancer
death
struggle
and divorce
has been
you can't save others//
you are not the savior.
It's in learning to know my limits
before I break my wings trying.

Okay.
I accept this now.

But I saved that bird...

Learning about relationship
while in one
with myself.

I think I've always had the bent
towards some kind of
spiritual doula.

It has always felt as natural as air and water
to assist another
in breathing through their trials
and
in birthing their own voices.

But I'm finding that my scales and balances
have been tilted toward the Other
and less towards the Self
in such a way that
it's causing a pain
that I feel done with now.

My voice and my response
are essential beats
in the dance of relationship
And when I'm too busy
trying to protect and predict yours,
Our two-step
turns to limping

I used to feel God
in a blanket of emotion,
in an unlocking of my chest,
in a warming of my stomach,
in a burning of my ears
And I would think
Yes
Surely He is here
Surely I am blessed,
So, so sure.

And I don't feel God
in such a cozy way
these days
or know the name he is called
or even her pronoun
And feelings of peace in my chest,
gut
and stomach
are more difficult to conjure up

But I do know that I feel
very
very
alive
And if existing
is not as close to God as you can get
then I don't know what is

And I can't access comfort quite so easily
but I do know God in my body
as the shifting gravity
that comes with the opening of new energy
and it feels as weightless as space
and tingles like moon dust
on the bottoms of my feet
and it swirls like Van Gogh's starry night
and it's so marvelously Open,
and it's a little darker
but a little truer too
and I think I can deal with that
as long as it's set on
an honest axis.

In space
Let it be.

Space
has been stirring in me lately.
I've been anxious and lonely
and so I've been
filling up every
container possible.

Talk radio for every silence,
and quick showers,
and busy hands
and chitter chatter
and frantic clawing
at the eyes of Alone.

And on Sunday
my beloved group
chose that holy song,
Let it Be
as our doxology
and my mind held still
and my eyes filled brim
and I sighed,
Ok.

And the Sunday before last
my beloved group
spoke on creation and creativity needing space
or absence
in order to be truly creative
And my heart softened
at the thought of my experience
of God's absence
actually being the beating pulse
of creativity.

The appearance of a chaotic world
has been my thorn,

But if it's just a little space,
then maybe I can
let it be.

I feel myself making a choice
lately
New muscles moving
in new ways.
Choosing to be tougher
than all of those things that I fear.

Don't let the bastards get you down

Life-
You can't destroy me.
You can break me,
but I will rebuild myself
with the pieces that you leave behind
over and over and over again.
I will not be dismayed
I will not be undone.
After it all goes to hell,
I will remain.

When I was young,
a kid who still only knew Safety,
and my parents would come home after a night out,
I would notice their smell.
It was always metallic and cold
like car keys and weather.
They'd been outside
while I had stayed inside.
Anything could've happened to them
but I didn't think like that just yet.

I've been crying about my dad lately.
And sometimes I wonder,
is my grief getting worse with the years of distance?
I never used to cry like this
over missing him.
And now I wish so bad
for his strength and encouragement
and his playfulness and ability to handle things
as a presence back in my world,
A world
that I've become so skittish in these past few years.

I miss his parenting.

I've been seeing grasshoppers lately.
We have a complicated relationship,
Grasshoppers and I.
I've always been afraid of them
but lately I've been studying them calmly.
Long legs and still bodies
Unpredictable movements
and camouflaged under stems and leaves.

Today I was walking, walking, walking
And there was another grasshopper,
right there in the road.
As soon as I wondered, "Why?"
A memory tapped me on the shoulder.

I'm a child in Oklahoma
and my dad has brought me
to his family's old farmland
to share in his childhood experiences.
We approached a field with grasshoppers flying
back and forth
up and down
jumping here and there
and everywhere
and I froze in fear.
I was terrified.
But with his prodding,
he got me to walk through it.

And I realized there on my walk
of how my father is still parenting me,
although now
through more mysterious means,
but reminding me in symbols
and memories
and creatures
about how to Be,
and how to carry myself in a world
that can feel so frightening at times.

Be not afraid.
Move through it,
until it's behind you.

I cried and I cried
until the tears had finished their holy baptismal work
and I thanked him for his continued support
and I'm learning still
that I'm not alone
or abandoned
and how to become the bravest version
of myself
alongside the grasshoppers
and my father
and every creature that is learning how to
Be here too.

I had a tenderness towards myself tonight.

I needed it.

Holding myself sweetly

so that my ocean-journeyed students

can know the sweetness

of the Feminine

that has long-journeyed home 

to herself.

::To Remember::In Painful Times::

There is something in the agonizing act
of applying pressure
to a Body
that creates something anew.

The birthing of pearls
and the laboring of babies
and the burying of seeds
all have the look and feel of death.
But if you close your eyes in that painful moment,
you'll miss the rising
after the falling.

Maybe we'll all come out of this arm in arm,
Together in a new and different way.
And maybe we'll each be empowered
by watching each other rise.

Rise Sisters Rise
Rise Brothers Rise

I heard my plate of tomatoes say to me
tonight,
Be here with me
And so I was.
Each salted slice,
red and green
juice and seeds,
garden goodness.
And I saw many worlds in that moment
on that plate.
The vegetable organ
of chambers and membranes.
My dad's country hands
whose mother's country hands
taught him to salt his tomatoes too.
And the "thank you" from my lips
travelling up to creator~provider,
knowing so clearly
what prayer was
in that open windowed space.

Worlds within worlds within worlds
Knowing my place
Being with it all,
in thanks.

Do not be threatened
white folks.
Their flourishing
is Our flourishing
When they become empowered
it is for the good of us all.
It's about time
for their rising
so stand back
and be in awe
of what they've come through
and of where they're going.
Do not be threatened.
Our body needs them to be whole.

Just grateful right now
to experience others in exactly the place that they're in
to peer into this moment in time
of their barefooted journeying
and not listing out the many ways we don't connect
for once
but seeing suddenly how they are offering me whatever they have to give
from whatever curve of the road they are in
from our foggy mirrored perspectives
on this sacred and blessed path.

I bless you on your way
and I'm thankful to to catch a glimpse.

The word "patterns" stuck itself in my ear yesterday
and I found myself reading
about the universe and the way it repeats itself
and how the birth of a cell
is the mirror image of the death of a star
and how the neurons of the human brain
mirror the image of the universe
And today I heard the phrase,
The shalom of God is built into all things
and I know that I keep trying to find a way out
of the idea of universal chaos
So I'm drinking in these patterns
Like they are my umbilical cord to the Creator
and I'm re-believing in some kind of order
until I can surrender into Yes, maybe there is something to trust,
Something that has organized it all
and I am somehow a part of the answer
without even knowing what it is.

"It's only water,"
I think to myself,
just like I had thought,
"It's only multiplying cells..."
Makes it all not sound so deadly

Still hard to believe that it was just
some extra cells
that killed my dad's body
And it's only water
except that
it's swirling in the air
and piling into your living room
and drowning your pets
and your cabinets
and maybe you too.

This is what I mean when I say,
"Everything is chaos"

I don't believe there was sovereign design
behind which cells grew
and which houses flooded
and which pets died.

The houses by the shores flooded
because they were closest to the water.
The cells in my dad's brain grew
because of his inherited genetic mutation.

Shit just happens.

Today three kids knocked on my car window
and asked for a ride home
in the Walgreens parking lot.
I'm not of the savior mindset anymore
and I know that I can be a sucker
So I turned them down left and right.
The boy piped up when he saw the girl failing
and did some quick math.
"We each need $1.50 to get a bus pass
to get back to Raytown
to get back home."
So I got out of my car
to go get them money from the ATM,
eyeing them in the parking lot as I did.
I gave them five dollars
and their story never changed
and they never asked for more.

I drove away believing their story
and wished I'd bought them snacks as well.
I don't know what they learned from that...
That people are suspicious of them
or that people need to have their arms twisted
I don't know.

And maybe even liars deserve snacks.
Next time, get the snacks.

I walked into my garage the other morning
to the sound of two chirping crickets
and before my mind thought a thought,
an impression from my subconscious rose up
of me as the jail keeper
who had just walked in
on an awe filled moment
of two prisoners
singing the dark full of light.

My dog is using the pillow next to me for her head
like a human
and it gives me that kind of
throat catching pained chuckle
that is usually meant for parents
gazing at something adorable their child just did
I think.
I know they say to never compare your pet
to someone's child
but I don't know how my heart could expand
anymore than this
so it's no insult, really.

When I think of unconditional love,
she's what I know.

Everyday I worry of her dying
but today I recalled that,
------I am not afraid.
She will be here
until she is not
and until then
I gift my worry free presence
to this funny little animal
who found a soft pillow
for her worry free head.

I bought a house for myself

thinking secretly

that I just needed to build an island

where attachment and loss couldn't find me,

I'd dig a moat, 

I thought,

where all of the glittery things could drown

before they hooked into my heart.

But soon after 

I began fixating on house fires

and my pets' frantic eyes

and their little cowering bodies

and so then the sad admittance 

that to live is to attach and to love and to lose

and I told myself

if i lose one more big thing

just drop me off at an institution

where they have those quick drugs

that turn the tidal waves to sloshing

and the clawing into swaying

and the horrible, endless falling

into poof
nothing at all.

It all comes down to this,

Not, how to not suffer,

but how to not be afraid

of the suffering.

Because I think that

that horrible, endless falling

and the tidal waves

and the frantic clawing

are actually in the fear,

and not in the suffering at all.

The antidote

-I am not afraid
---I am not afraid
------I am not afraid

Everyday my houseplant gets a little taller

a little longer

a little bigger.

It's truly amazing

this thing that appears as inanimate

is living and growing by the day

and has an innate purpose

somewhere deep inside itself

to reach it's full potential

before it gives up its seeds

and retreats back to the ground.

There's a baby in my sister's stomach

that's doing exactly the same thing.

We're all unfolding 

just as we should

and also

We're all going to bury each other someday.

And so it goes.

My best friend is always in love.
She is the "Why not?" improv
in your favorite jazz song
She is fluid like red wine,
and my ferocious lion mama.
I have learned from her
About choosing myself.
Something those who loved me before
never mentioned.
If I fall in love again,
it will only be because
Her bravery is rooting me on.

In this achy breaky world
I can feel like I never do enough
But what I do is greet the refugee with touch and connection
and I don't know how far into their pain it goes
But I'm doing what I can, mama.
And I'm here at the beach
(so "blessed and lucky")
And what kind of world is it that travel is a privledge?
That who I am has not been banned from moving about this place...
and yet my human heavy body still groans about
"This heat, this humidity..."
And my mom turns to me and says
"Oh well, I know what I am"
And that revives my serious head
With a chuckle of truth and
of the ease of self-acceptance
And we just are what we are
Next to the ocean,
Or elsewhere.

Making peace with stillness.
Out of stillness let my energy be born
Shh Shh Shh
Hushhhhhhhh
Don't be tortured by mere concepts.
You are, in fact, the architect of every feeling.

In fits and starts
you see me
Making my way.

I am trying to befriend my loneliness
So that it will never again hold me captive
under the table,
collecting bread crumbs of Belonging.

I would rather be alone,
at Home in my own body,
than driven around
by that insatiable animal
ever again.

And so I return
back to my body
back to my breath
that each hold as much expansive space
as the deep, dark and glittering night sky.

And that's what my lone Self is:
Deep
dark
and so alive with light.

How could I ever
reach for Another
with such grasping, desperate fingers
When the Universe is alive tonight
in my very breath.

So I breathe through the anxiety of loss
like a warrior woman in labor
Because I am
willing the dancing light of Life
to be born into this moment
for me
and for you
And we are going to be okay.

Say it with me now...
You are home
in the very stillness of your
self.

Earth as Creator's full belly
Earth as womb and body
One pulsing stomach
Full of webs that can't be broken
Both toxins and All of Life in deep, intimate interaction

Only within this metaphor
is sense made of suffering
for me

Mother god laboring with us,
Each kick noted,
Our pain::Her pain
Her pain::Our pain

I see you brother, my brother
I am your witness sister, my sister
We are webbed and dew drop brilliant
Moon rings circling our faces
We are crowned and connected
We are pulsating evolution
We are footprints weaving
We are laboring and heaving,
confused and disoriented,
Ice chips and deep breaths
anchored to
Ice burgs and ocean crests
We are becoming.

Comfort, comfort, comfort

The word Glide has been giving me life lately.
Funny, and un-poetic word,
But it is what it is.
It adjusts my energy when I feel under stress.
I can't quite finger point the exact image I get from it,
but it's something like walking through strong winds
or across a strong river,
Chest deep, trying to make it, but getting knocked around a little.
Instead of aggression or succumbing to it, I glide through
With the marriage of a little grit and a little ease,
Steady, steady, steady
with only the necessary amount of energy exerted.

I catch myself whispering the word blessings these days
and sending it off like a blown kiss, with an air of hope.

It is good to be together.
The intermingling of energies is breathtaking

To have breath is to be apart of it all
Not even needing to do or to act,
yet still pulsating all of the colors that your soul spins
and that existing with, feeding, or responding to
it's Alive surroundings.

The stunning ripples of it all.
Whatever turn is taken,
the Web adapts.

Equal.
This word hit me like medicine today,
flowed in slowly, taking its time to reach
the most ailing parts of me
that were waiting for this word's healing.
I've always been sensitive to other's reactions of me
and today was no different
other than my own, interior reaction.
After today's slight
I could feel my mind tracking it's old rabbit trail of thought
and instead of following it, I observed it.
Every imaginative turn it would take,
I would pull back and decided to write a different story.
My mind felt like a poorly trained animal,
which I had to harness and re-harness again and again.
No, not that way, go THIS way....
You see, because people are so varied
and will respond in every kind of way to you, and
Also, people are not perfect, and neither are you.
Leaving room for all of this, I must decide to rewrite the narrative
of "Girl who is at the mercy of how other's perceive her"
into "Equal"
This is what I believe Jesus asks us into with his "Cheek turning".
Love the other enough to require them to look you in the eye
and see you as their equal.
Only continued harm is done when the victim and oppressor narrative
is allowed to keep playing out.
"Turn the other cheek" is not an invitation into martyrdom.
I will not crumble, and
I will decide the measuring rod for the situation,
not hand it over to those outside of my knowing self.
I will not depend on another in this way again.

__________


"When you strike a woman, you strike a rock"

Participation.
This word is holy and important.

I need to remember Resilience.

I think it is the answer to my anxieties.
Learning from creation-
I've heard it described how animals
can put up a chase for their desired prey,
but once they realize it is out of their grasp
there is no complicated disappointment
just a simple letting go and changing of directions.
Resilience

If I can recognize my own resilience then

anything can happen to me

(like I already know that it will)

without me needing to predict when or if or how.

Then chaos is a little more tolerable.

If I can remember that after every terrible thing

I have clawed and suffered and gasped and choked,

but also, Here I am.

It does not last forever.

And hasn't my yoga mat taught me

that really, you can breathe through anything.

I'm noticing how I naturally direct my energy,
I'm observing how much is given
I'm seeing that when engaging, I give a lot away
And this all makes sense now.
Sense is made about walls of mine
that people run into
...protective layers...
Guilt I feel over holding others at arm's length,
while I watch others flow easily in and out of relationship.
Comparison kills that inner intelligent observer.
Why can't I just be more open
Why are you so quiet....

Today I wished that I had just a little less emotion in myself
I believe life would be just a little easier.
The mysterious ones to me are the
reasonable
unwavering
unquestioning
steady, stable,
full of information creatures.
This word reasonable has haunted me.
That unattainable standard
that false persona that I try on
and it's just not me....
I flip and I flop and respond to the other
and feel and process and change,
am usually unsure
am wooed and pulled and twisted,
die and reborn
and it's an exhausting dance with another person
that at times feels inappropriately personal
where i'm the naked one with them in a pant suite
nodding, taking notes and not sweating one drop.

So really, the layers make sense.
Actually, I would call them quite reasonable.

Dreamt last night:

It was all leading up to a wedding.
I was getting married but I don't remember any groom
(which makes me think it was all actually not really about a wedding)
It was all last minute planning/trusting.
My company was worried about the details
more than I was.
Two of the details I remember were the bridesmaids dresses
and the place of the wedding.
All along I kept reassuring them that "it would work out"
and then I landed on the perfect shade of blue from a dress that I had.
The bridesmaids (my childhood friend and her mom?) both happened to have blue dresses
from previous weddings,
but they weren't the exact shade I had picked.
"It'll work," I decided.
Then we journeyed to find the "spot"
The fact that it was a journey was important to me.
I wanted to happen upon the spot naturally.
It was difficult (I don't remember why)
but we ended up in canoes on very still water.
The stillness of the water was notable.
I knew that this was the spot.
I began trying to document this spot with a man(?)
using cross stitch while floating there in our canoes (haha!)
We spoke together about how to stitch the blue lines just right
so that the stillness of the water could really be shown.
I remember feeling self conscious at my perfectionism with this.

Knowing what you want
seems to be all there is.
If you know that, then
you can be simple like creation, and
the way opens before you.

All these years my feminine
had revealed itself as prey.
Now, on the other side of being
devoured and spit out,
I am seeing.
My wild senses are awakening
and are sloughing off the old skin of "nice".
I have seen myself before
walk up to the trap
pry open the metal teeth
stick my ankle in
to help another save face.
This is not what true Nature teaches us.

Back to the pawing
and sniffing of air,
Back to intuitive body stretches
and alertness in the wild.
Looking out is not wrong.
Reading the winds
eyeing the signals,
Intuiting danger is our gift.
Be wise and understanding.

I have always seemed to know
that my dog is my greatest teacher
and now I'm sure of it,
Along with the rest of the created world.

Steady like the river
Moving, grounded, flowing.
I AM (and god is)
Loving mirrors
of reflected natures.
We are.

Now

This spot.
Don't wander away from it
This bud of all that is real and creative,
this pulsing of tails wagging and smoke rising,
and of "how you fold your clothes."
It's happening.
Stay-
this cradle of neurons and your blessed body
this riverbed that holds all manners of flowing
and all manners of drowning
Stay here
or stay hungry.
You are alive,
at home in the universe,
and that is good.
You cannot lose your way from Life.
it is your DNA.
Your very breath feeds it,
so pay each one attention.
The salmon know-
and how they sparkle just so-
Fins and scales and flesh on the table.
It is not horror to their fish eyes.
Where is God-?
This question changes my body.
It responds in the hollowed out way
that my mind cannot face just yet.
But here we are,
in the bud of the cradle of the spot
that simply breathes and knows...
L  i   f   e

I keep thinkin about
that great cloud of witnesses
they say we are surrounded by.
Belonging must be my strongest hunger
and I notice it most as i count years down
of family members growing older.
It makes sense that we are born into
already created units of people
since Belonging seems to shout so loud.
What doesn't make sense is death.
A shrinking family.
My own belonging feels unstable.
But hope flickers when
in my mind-
like mirrors reflecting mirrors-
I see All who've gone before
surrounding surrounding surrounding
Me.
Farmers and journeyers and laborers and poets
Who I came from and who I will return to.
I don't even know them
but there's something about belonging to another
that opens the way for Perfect love.
I don't even know you and I love you.
I don't even know you and I love you.

Where are you?

Important questions...
Where are you at?
How do you honestly feel?
How can you Be Here right now?
My only job,
when I don't know how to be,
Is to just be here.
Both-BE here
and be HERE.
Show up to wherever you are going,
with a finger to your pulse.
I think I have become overly exhausted
by others because I've not been
both Here and Honest.
I smile too much...
my amicable reflexes
are too quick for my body's honesty.
Before I know it
I've smiled and reassured and laughed
my way through an interaction that
I'm dying to escape.
How to show up honestly
while also not feeling panic
about not helping the other
get through the interaction
so much.
This is an area that I need to practice self-care.
Self-sacrifice is my go to
and I'm getting more and more isolated
because it's all too damn hard.
Also...
how to not feel defeated when
I'm not met with another's self-sacrifice.
This is almost a constant.
Honesty and presence are my prayer
especially in this time.
Where real needs
Need real presence.
Not exhausted forced smiles
but just whoever you are,
wherever you may be.

Winter's Interior

Spruce and white
Spine and soap
This page, this note.
Letting myself be held lightly by winter
It's a complicated friend
But I'm withholding judgment
Until I greet the clean seed
With it's changed body,
face to face.
I can't picture myself married
I don't know if it will happen,
I love my dog too much.
The other day we lay snout to nose
I let myself practice holding loosely
(because I know how she likes her space)
I was gazing, and she turns completely away.
She's teaching me about open handed love.
Un-offended love.
And I had thought about our relationship
and how I watch her prancing in the yard
or body heavy on the couch
with the little slits of her eyes shut so nice
and how my breath slows down watching her
while my heart fills brim
and the fullness of this starry skied relationship..
And she has never spoken one word to me at all.
Not one single spoken word.
So much depth and not one word.
And I loved that thought.