Just for today…

Just for today, because I feel so full and whole and good

I would take you in my arms

You, with all your gorgeous problems
and pains
and frustrations
and tiredness of life

and I would hold you.

 

This is the face of the feminine I most love and least visit.

But today, today she is within me.
So clear
and whole
and full

That I could sit
legs open
letting your back rest on my torso
my arms around your shoulders
my palms on your chest

and let you rest.

 

You. All of you.

Just for today…

 

 

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Looking out the window…

Last week on Facebook, a friend posted a picture with some text about how looking out the window was an essential task for writers.

I had to agree.

I took this photo last week, while laying on the floor of my office and listening to “Homeward” by The Sundays. (Great song for a Fall day.)

 

looking out the window in my office on a Fall day

 

It was calming and peaceful and lovely, especially because I enjoy the Fall.

Yesterday was a rousing, rainy, gray day. (Which I love.) Full of wind and bluster.
I wanted to lay on the floor of my waiting room, where there are wide windows on two walls.
I wanted to see it all. To join it.

As it was, I laid on the floor of my home office.
I listened to “Rooster” by Alice in Chains.
And “Warm Whispers” by Missy Higgins.
And “I Can’t Make You Love Me” by the amazing Bonnie Raitt.
And “Keeping the Dream Alive” by Freiheit.

Sometimes the iTunes ‘shuffle’ function knows just what you need. (It really is magic.)

 

Looking out the window is so important.
Not just for writers.
For humans.
(There are no pithy Facebook pictures for that, though.)

Looking out the window gives us space.
We can gaze with unfocused eyes and let our brains relax.
We can take in the beauty of our frame (there is always something beautiful…keep looking).
We breathe more deeply and our muscles relax when we look out the window.

Looking out the window expands us beyond the stress and difficulties that become so clearly focused when we stare at a computer screen or client face.

Looking out the window, even for a few minutes, is a rebellious act that removes us from our homogenized daily shuffle.

Looking out the window, we might dream. 

 

Take a moment today- look out your window.
Seek one out if you aren’t near one.
Set your phone timer for 5 whole minutes and see where you go, what you see,
what you dream.

 

 

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How A Full Journal Can Change Your Life

I keep a journal, as many people do. I write in it as the spirit moves me. Sometimes it’s a few times a week, sometimes I don’t sit to write for a month. But journalling is a helpful tool on the spiritual path.

Usually, my journal looks like this:

 

journal open to a full page laying on a blanket

Nothing special. My own musings and brain drain.

 

You know something is starting to boil when my journal looks like this:

journal full of other papers, full of ideas and confusion

 

When I start shoving papers, printouts, and other stuff into my journal (here, I have actually stapled shit in) then you know I’m going through something.

I’m confused. And you can see the confusion in my journal.

Bits and pieces of the map shoved in amongst directions and wisdom and guidance from other people.
And wisdom and guidance from my own heart and soul.

This is always what my journal (and inside my head, pretty much) looks like when I’m figuring something out or on the verge of a breakthrough.

I write it all out so I can follow myself. I leave these letters as breadcrumbs on the trail through my journey. Sometimes I have to find my way back, so I can find my way out, like a maze doubling back on itself.

 

Then, on rare occasions, my journal looks like this:

journal filled with other papers and texts, amongst notes on large pieces of paper

 

So fucking full it spills out onto other sheets of paper.

Large sheets of paper.

The ideas are so big to me, the energy of them – of what’s in my head trying to find its way out – is so big that they have to be scrawled out into a bigger space.

Tiny pages with small pens just won’t do.

 

The last time I wrote things on big pieces of paper like this, I ended up in the ICU for 10 days.
I had pneumonia that didn’t want to be cured.

I had been to a retreat and drawn an outline of my body on a piece of paper. Large paper.
And I had filled it in with the colors and textures and images that made me feel most myself.

I ended up sleeping under the Paper Me for 10 days or so, when I had a cold.
Only the cold turned into untreatable pneumonia.

My doctors weren’t exactly sure what to do with me. Weren’t exactly sure how to fix it.
Which was pretty fucking scary.

The pneumonia didn’t want to be cured, but it did want healing.
Healing is different than curing, you know.
My pneumonia healed me by showing me that I could no longer go on with my life the way it was.

The career I was about to enter was going to kill me.
And my soul knew it. And my body showed it.

That small hospital room became a sweat lodge- pulling out all the toxicities in my life.
I made a choice, in that hospital bed, to take the better path.

When they finally figured out what was wrong (and I started coughing up the infectious goop),
I knew what was going to be right.

 

Big pieces of paper. They have changed my life.

Perhaps I should be scared of these pieces and what is written on them.
But I think not.

I think they are directions to a new life.

– – – – – – – – – – – –

I was going to stop the post there. Leaving it with some Pollyanna-feeling, intellectual and emotional half-truth.

But you know what? Changing your life is fucking scary.

Changing it on purpose, or even supposing that it might take a new turn all on its own…that shit freaks me out.

If all the ideas on those journal and other pages begin to come alive, my life will change.
Hopefully it will be for the better, but….who…fucking…knows?!

 

I think a lot about what change will mean.
How will these changes affect my children?
My marriage?
My personal persona?
My professional persona?

If I build the things on those pieces of paper, yes- they will be a map to a new life.
But what that new life might contain has yet to be seen. 
And that’s scary.

I’m risk averse.
I like to know the outcome before I start.
Which is ridiculous, right? But, still…

It’s in these moments of fear and ignorance that I wish I had my own cheering section.
Giving me a thumbs up and some clapping and happy faces.
“Go! This will be awesome!” they would say. (And I would believe them.)

So, I feel vulnerable and scared.
(Could someone just hold my hand?)

But, when I step back and take a look at it from a bit higher up, I realize:

  1. There is a lot of cave-lady brain in there. Risk aversion- that’s her territory (she seeks safety). She can be soothed and calmed (with an orgasm or three- yes!). Calming and reassuring her in my own mind, and in the arms of my lover, will help open her energy and direct it towards my changes.
  2. It’s probably the most embodied, sensual, feminine thing I can do to be vulnerable. To open myself and be real. To feel it. Later, I can move to (or get help for) the more masculine “doing” part of the project. But, right now, feeling what’s going on is important. (And, strangely, let’s me rest. What is, is. And I can fight it or go with it, even if ‘it’ is fear and vulnerability.)

So, big pieces of paper and what’s written on them can change your life.
But you can’t really know what that change will look like.

I can only accept that change is happening (a.k.a. freak the fuck out)
and stay with myself as I take each step.
Knowing that what will be, will be.
And that the only thing I can do is bring my best at any given moment,
even if my best is worry or fear.

Maybe this is another emotional half-truth, I don’t know.
I do know that it allows me to both be and do.
And that is helpful.

 

 

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An Open Letter on Facing Your Fears

Yesterday morning I woke up at my usual time (rather early) and lingered in the edges of that ‘dream/not quite dream’ space.

I don’t dream that often. Rather, I don’t remember my dreams that often. There are certain times of my cycle when I am more likely to remember them, so it must have to do with hormones, in part. But, anyway…

As I lingered in the ‘not quite awake’ space, I felt someone, sensed them. For me, my intuition seems like a dream mentally, but I can usually feel things physically.

This is not entirely weird for intuitive people. Some intuitives see actual events, some see auras or energies, some feel things in their own bodies, others hear messages or talk to energies in other planes of existence. There are lots of ways to receive ‘other’ information.

(I know, some of this gets too woo-woo for me, too, but still…I believe there is so much we don’t know, it would be dumb to dismiss what we don’t know just because we don’t know. I accept the woo because I have experienced its strange, unexplainable power in my own life.)

My intuition is typically in seeing things. I see colors when I do meditative dance. I see symbols and pictures when I talk to clients – often those symbols and pictures mean something to the client, or take them to a new idea or deeper experience when I share them.

So, when I see things, I pay attention.
Especially in that dream/non-dream space of early morning sleepiness.
That space is a special place between worlds. 

This morning I felt someone- someone I have felt before.
A friend from long ago, I think.

As I lay there, I put my attention, my energy, into his space. 
And two things happened.
One: I sensed that he felt very scared and frustrated.
Two: I saw something out in front of him; a symbol of his fear.

 

adult man holding his hands in front of his face, as if fearful

 

Because I care for this person, I opened my heart and sent him the energy of calm. If the phrase, “It’s going to be okay,” had a feeling, that is what I sent to him. It emerged from my heart almost like a hand calmly petting his head.

Then I went and looked at the symbol. It was a fire, on the edges of his life, or awareness, or consciousness. It was a fire like you see on an oil rig- blowing out the top of a huge smokestack. Fearsome and hot, but contained. Although, if the fire wasn’t contained, it would take the whole rig down. I sensed that this fire could destroy his family and he was frightened.

[I also clearly know and understand that these images may be from my own psyche. They might be figments of my own imagination. They could be anything but intuitive info. I know that. But I also know I have to trust myself and my own experience. So, here we are.]

As I have gone through the day, I have thought about what I would say to him, were he available to chat. Because, when something frightens you that much, when it is that loaded with fuel to hurt what you care about, what do you do?

This is what I would say to him.

Whatever it is you fear, that fire on the edge of your life, it will hurt you (and what you love) if you don’t go look at it. 

It will hurt you because unexamined fear has permission to grow. Fear multiplies all on its own. One of my Social Work professors called this The Ladder of Anticipation. Whatever we fear will drag us around, deplete our energy, and keep us worried and dying if we get dragged around by it.

Fear will rule your life if you let it.

The only way to not let it rule your life is to go look at it. 

The Ladder of Anticipation exists because we imagine what might be.
Rung by rung we climb up our imaginative fears and tremble and scream and gradually cease moving.
Fear has us by the short hairs, then.
By facing our fear, we see what is.

It is true, What Is might be fucking scary. But at least What Is has boundaries. It has edges and it can be known. Only our fear about the What Is is unbounded.

So, go. Look. See what it is exactly you fear.

When I was afraid of my own desire, I was fucking scared of it. I was afraid that looking at it, giving into it, would mean losing my marriage, my family, my idea of myself.

I climbed up the Ladder of Anticipation, over and over again. And it wrecked me. Only when I honestly sat and looked at that fear, felt the entirety of my desire, did I understand what it could and could not do.

How do you look at your fear?
A quiet place helps.
A good chunk of time.

And, in my own case, it was incredibly helpful to tell my heart and mind that I was just exploring.
Nothing had to be done.
No decisions had to be made or actions taken.
I was just looking around at this thing in my life that felt huge and scared me to death.

Because if you’re just looking around, you can pack it in later and no one is the wiser.
Your psyche won’t bolt.
Your heart can have its say.
Your mind can be calm.

Take your mind and heart to a calm place, long-ago friend, and let the thing you fear come close to you.
Get a good, long look at it.
Go to the edges of it. The depth of it.
Let it drown you.  If only for a moment.

And once you do this, you will be free from the fear.

Because once you know the fear- where it goes, what it feels like, how big it seems – you cannot be ruled by it anymore.

You will know, for sure, what to do with the thing you fear once you go look at it.
Whether and how it can be changed.
What part of you it exists in, what part of you needs to be healed or explored.

You will know if the fear is true or not.
And whether it can actually destroy what you care about most.

Looking at your fear is worth the time and effort because it will bring clarity, and thereby, release.
You will know what to do.
Which part of yourself to listen to.
And then you can begin to take action instead of sitting and waiting, in the dark morning hours, afraid.

If you (reader, or…anyone) need help, I’m here.
Helping you look at fears or sort stuff out is what I do.

Take care, long-ago friend.
I wish you well.

Eleanor Roosevelt quote about fear - you must do that which you think you cannot do

 

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Sex and Healing

I’ve been thinking about the healing powers of sex for a while now. For both men and women, there are some experiences of sex (whether it be lovemaking, fucking, or just having sex) that bring healing of some sort.

I can think of my own experiences, where the safety of my lover’s body – bigger and stronger than mine – meant I could let go and relax. And when I fully relaxed into sex it made me cry, or helped some fear release, or quilted some part of my heart back together.

When my grandfather died last year (a dear, close connection for me) I found relief from my grief in slow, close, calming sex with my husband.

When I first had my sexual-spiritual awakening, I felt very deeply…no, I wouldn’t say I ‘felt’ even…I knew all the way through myself, deep into my bones, that my body was a gift of healing. My presence – just being near someone who needed me – was healing. And that my sex was healing.

(Which is all very confusing if you’re married and wanting to stay married and yet also share this sexy healing thing. The spiritual path…ugh!)

So, I found this poem, and it truthfully (in beauty and authenticity) expressed this kind of healing sex and relationship.

I wish I could be the woman in this poem.
I long to be her.

And as I open myself more to my sensual side, to deeper and different aspects of my femininity, I think I might be able to.

I want to be this strong.
This vulnerable.
This sensual.
I want it so much, I am willing to practice. Let us just say that.

Here is the poem.

 

If You Want To Change The World, Love A Man

If you want to change the world love a man; really love him
Choose the one whose soul calls to yours, clearly who sees you; who is brave enough to be afraid
Accept his hand and guide him gently to your hearts blood
Where he can feel your warmth upon him and rest there
And burn his heavy load in your fires

Look into his eyes, look deep within and see what lies dormant or awake or shy or expectant there
Look into his eyes and see there his fathers and grandfathers and all the wars and madness their spirits fought in some distant land, some distant time
Look upon their pains and struggles and torments and guilt; without judgment
And let it all go
Feel into his ancestral burden
And know that what he seeks is safe refuge in you
Let him melt in your steady gaze
And know that you need not mirror that rage
Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds

If you want to change the world love a man, really love him
Sit before him, in the full majesty of your woman, in the breath of your vulnerability
In the play of your child innocence, in the depths of your death
Flowering invitation, softly yielding, allowing his power as a man
To step forward towards you…and swim in the Earth’s womb, in silent knowing, together

And when he retreats…because he will…flees in fear to his cave…
Gather your grandmothers around you…envelope in their wisdoms
Hear their gentle shusshhhed whispers, calm your frightened girls’ heart
Urging you to be still…and wait patiently for his return
Sit and sing by his door, a song of remembrance, that he may be soothed, once more

If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him
Do not coax out his little boy
With guiles and wiles and seduction and trickery
Only to lure him…to a web of destruction
To a place of chaos and hatred
More terrible than any war fought by his brothers
This is not feminine, this is revenge
This is the poison of the twisted lines
Of the abuse of the ages, the rape of our world
And this gives no power to woman, it reduces her as she cuts off his balls
And it kills us all

And whether his mother held him or could not
Show him the true mother now
Hold him and guide him in your grace and your depth
Smoldering in the center of the Earth’s core
Do not punish him for his wounds that you think don’t meet your needs or criteria
Cry for him sweet rivers
Bleed it all back home

If you want to change the world love a man, really love him
Love him enough to be naked and free
Love him enough to open your body and soul to the cycle of birth and of death
And thank him for the opportunity

As you dance together through the raging winds and silent woods
Be brave enough to be fragile and let him drink in the soft, heady petals of your being
Let him know he can hold you, stand up and protect you
Fall back into his arms and trust him to catch you
Even if you’ve been dropped a thousand times before
Teach him how to surrender by surrendering yourself
And merge into the sweet nothing, of this worlds’ heart

If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him
Encourage him, feed him, allow him, hear him, hold him, heal him
And you, in turn, will be nourished and supported and protected
By strong arms and clear thoughts and focused arrows
Because he can, if you let him, be all that you dream

If you want to love a man,
love yourself, love your father, love your brother, your son, your ex-partner;
from the first boy you kissed, to the last one you wept over

Give thanks for the gifts; of your unraveling to this meeting
Of the one who stands before you now
And find in him the seed to all that’s new and solar
A seed that you can feed to help direct the planting
To grow a new world, together

Anonymous

 

I originally found this poem on the Facebook page “Message of the Rose” which is lovely, and you should go check it out.

 

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