Monthly Archives: May 2014

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… mercy …

I believe all are redeemable.  Each and every one of us…
Redeemable.
And I believe we all Will be redeemed in time.

I do not speak in some Western Christian manner, but from
something deeper, older, and from that still small voice within.

Bodisatvas know, and they wait until the last joins us.
Buddha, Quan Yin, and others.  For we are all truly One, even
though we don’t know or feel or admit it right now.

I am guilty of that oversight, seriously so some days, less so on
others.   I love to deny the idiots that invade my reality are really
me, like me, a reflection of me and ultimately  me.

That African story I shared yesterday really touched my heart,
for that is an awareness that is missing in this meager culture of
ours, true community, which is truly Caring for each and every one.

Think how we could change Everything, if we just took our problem
children to the center of town and embraced them and reminded
them of all their goodnesses, over and over, and for days on end.
The shell would melt away, and that beautiful inner core that was
so visible when we were precious babies would once again lead
their way, determine their path.
Heartbreaking beauty, yes?

That was my part to walk in this passion play I share with you…
Drawn in by a sweeping and undeniable romance, it allowed me,
nay insisted, that I was to see the true and exquisite child within,
the pure core of a person worth redeeming, redeemable, and
working his way towards recovering himself in all his glory.

This was the vision I held with this person i keep writing about…
I looked at the boy within, before he’d been so disillusioned and
ruined by life and cruelty, and bent into defense position
and distortion…
He showed me flashes of true spirit so many times, somehow
trusting me, sometimes fighting me, sometimes begging me to
take his hand and lead him out of the chasm he had fallen into.

This is not something to be taken lightly, no, this is an honor
granted by fate and heavenly influences, and aside from human
frailty of my own, I truly believed, and still do, that he will
finally come around, just like all of us will.

He just couldn’t do it yet, and that’s ok.  Timing is everything.

 

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… if only …

In this African tribe, when someone does something harmful, they take the person to the center of the village where the whole tribe comes and surrounds them.

For two days, they will say to the man all the good things that he has done.

The tribe believes that each human being comes into the world as a good. Each one of us only desiring safety, love, peace and happiness.

But sometimes, in the pursuit of these things, people make mistakes.

The community sees those mistakes as a cry for help. They unite then to lift him, to reconnect him with his true nature, to remind him who he really is, until he fully remembers the truth of which he had been temporarily disconnected: “I am good.”

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… today …

TODAY

I

Do not

Want to step so quickly

Over a beautiful line on God’s palm

As I move through the earth’s

Marketplace

Today.

I do not want to touch any object in this world

Without my eyes testifying to the truth

That Everything is

My Beloved.

Something has happened

To my understanding of existence

That now makes my heart always full of wonder

And kindness.

I do not

Want to step so quickly

Over this sacred place on God’s body

That is right beneath your own foot.

As I

dance with

precious life

Today.

**Hafiz**

Persian Poet and Mystic

 

 

 

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… it’s all now …

Reposted from April, 2012

Writing is an interesting process.   There’s that word again… interesting.

If you pay attention, you notice changes about yourself… growth, hopefully, and also a broadening of perspective as you see yourself as others might see you.

As the years, and chapters, spin by… faster each year, like horses on their return trip home, one begins to see how the writing changes the writer.

As I review… Re-View… my journals, I enjoy both the actuality of the moment, and the perspective I gain about myself.

I still believe the story I am telling is a valid and delightful story, a classic if you will, with iconic characters acting out some pre- ordained dance, and I also know that he and I have danced before, and will again.  For life is not only ongoing…  it is a forever decision we all have made, and denial is only a brief retreat from what our soul knows……. The Forever Dance.

A new friend of mine, reading my blog for the first time,  noted that she hated thinking of me as hung up on some dude, that she did not see me as someone like that… and so it set me to thinking.

No, my friends, I am not… Not that type, nor that woman. This was a chapter of my ongoing life, and I am firmly in the now, whilst enjoying a story that for me has become something classic that I want to share. For there are not only wonderful stories and dreamscapes…. there are things to be learned…. and not just for me either.

When I was a child, I thought as a child, I understood as a child…. … I believe that is some bible quotation, but still it renders true, for the journals I wrote then were truly as a child. Love, Romance, and all the attached Thrills were my reality in many ways, and I have paid the price of that naivete.

I have no need to go down that path anymore, for now I see what I went there to see. Love has many flavors, degrees, and depths.  One can Love, and yes, truly Love at that;  but if that Love is not enlightened by wisdom and vision, the quest for love becomes a distraction from the Real, a rush towards emotional sensations, and a mistaking of passion for Love, of thrills for Love, and worse yet, the choice of who receives that focus of Love can end up with Love being thrown at someone who cannot Love at all.

Ah, the Chase, the challenge, the hunt, the seeking of a prize, the reliving and reworking of past and unfinished scenarios…. I see all these things in my past choices.

I am a different person now.  I enjoy my past movies, but I thankfully have moved on to a realer place, having learned from my myriad of choices… I mean…..How many times before you Get it…? They may come up above ground once in a while, and wave a little hello to me, but I see them for what they are, for things I already have figured out, and I smile at myself.

Interestingly enough, most recently I had a visitation from an old/younger Love of mine, and for me it was a clear reminder of what I Really want. He is clear, high minded, multi-faceted, brilliantly beautiful, and accomplished.  A musician, a writer, a thinker, and…a grown up.

In order to make these things happen, he has not frittered his talents and gifts away.  Nay, he has made the best of it all, and as we spent the evening together, I realized that this unassuming and gentle soul was indeed my Twin Soul in so many ways; ways that created seamless mind melds and common ahas… enough to make you believe in the mystery of connections, the Mystical Web of Cosmic Consciousness. And yet in this lifetime, we each have chosen to pursue the lessons of life that were needed to fulfill our promises.

I chose bad boys…. he chose complex and neurotic women… ……funny, huh?

Now, we could have chosen eachother, and it would be a blissful and heavenly blend of all that either could ever want… that became very clear as the evening progressed, and much to our mutual surprise.

Instead, we’ve been doing our homework.  I know that we are drifting on parallel paths, and we also know there is a past andthere is a future…….as well as the Ever Now.

I believe in parallel realities.  I know that these exist simultaneously… so then I was faced with the fact that it’s all just Fine, that it’s all going on just as it should, just as it will, and just as we each decide to write it… I also realized that the He that he is, that I wish I could blissfully enjoy right now, is there always, for me once I learn what I need to learn, once I’m ready to relax, to just Be in Bliss…. Oh, that struggle can be so seductive!  but it’s like you never Get there…

I know that the bliss is there, because I once woke up from a dream, and he was still holding me, my pillow his shoulder, and in the morning misty wakes, I lay in quiet bliss…
I wrote him the dream the next morning… and his reply came as dry and delightful
as he….
“This is one of the loveliest messages ever. I’m assuming I was there with you as well, connected by the Jungian trunk line in the dream zone, but unfortunately i didn’t get the in-between lying-in-bed consciousness part. I remember that “nothing to resolve” comment from those many years ago; in fact the whole few days we spent at Big Sur are in vivid technicolor.”

For now, I go on learning my lessons, taking my classes in personalities, and seductive paths. This visit with my beloved friend has reminded me of how far I’ve come, and how far I have to go. It also has reminded me that I Will Not Settle for any less than exactly where I am, and where I’m going, myself.

At some point there are Bardos that we reach, and we jump… and move on to new vistas.  I look forward to the next Bardos… For now, this one has some very nice views and vistas that I shall enjoy for a while. The Bliss is there in the future, there in my dreams, and here in the now as I so choose it.

It’s all here… all of it together …. all Now… all One.

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… the journal continues …

It seemed a continual pendulum swing, from highs to lows,
from close to push away, from together to alone, and
obviously that was what it was.
Why the mystery?  Onion layers…

Two people, old enough to know too much, to think they’ve
seen it all and enough more to sink a goat, now thinking
they can each transform themselves into the Fool stepping
into the Abyss, as he called it.  And why not?
What more was there to do, but complete the circle,
and begin again.

But new borns cry a lot.  They throw tantrems, they are
afraid.  Nothing makes any sense, and they want to be held
and rocked.
They want soothing songs and nonsense stories
to swim them into themselves, where being is
a Dolphin dance of knowing without words.

The Issues…….and the Methods…
She thought deeply on this one, because just now it seemed
like the “fight” wasn’t about the issues at all.  It was about
the style used to prove a point, about winning, about being right.
At least to her it was, and that was all she knew, of course,
like all of of, each of us.

Consider the life of the man.  Beaten as a young child by
both parents, isolating himself for protection, proving
himself again and again, yet the only answer he ever
got was from himself, like when the father threw him
into the ocean to teach him to swim.  Sinking to the bottom
revealed his abilities to hold his breath, and the complete
and utter joy he felt when he realized he was at last safe
and in his element.  Alone now seemed a strength.

And War.  Always at war with all  of it, but when the real
thing came with the Legion, he saw a path to rightousness,
recognition, and power.  He could be a true Hero.
He hadn’t figured on what it would do to his heart.

So fucking alone.. he was completely alone, wrought with
past cobwebs, ropes, the scars from war…the hardest fucking
plastic known to man wrapped around his heart.

Old ways are not set in concrete, but they Are set in neurons,
pathways, grooves so deep, so repetitiously run.
And new tracks can be near impossible to dig out.

 

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… the grass is greener …

 “A man chooses a great woman as part of a Spiritual journey
to bump up to a higher level.  A great woman is the inspiration.
If a man chooses a lesser woman for lower chakra reasons…
ie.. casual sex for example, he does not want to do the work
required to shift his consciousness into being a great man.
You can always see the character of the man by the woman
he chooses.  We live in a throw away society.  Most don’t want
to work hard to grow, when the grass is always greener…”
~ John Dean

 

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… reflections on a week …

Journal musings…. January  2006 in Rio

“You have to really Want this, for this to work,”  he says,
and the words echo through the convolutions of brain cells,
concentric circles from a center…. created by a leaden heart.

It felt so heavy.  All of it.  Sad….. Dark.

Confusion had set in, and too much thinking could be dangerous.
Yet to not-think was unthinkable…. Hmmmm.

She’d been given the front veranda upon which to sit, to get
away from him, from the constant TV, and his moods.
….which actually was quite remarkable, amazing really,
and she could view the wandering streets and flashing
cloud storms and island comings amidst the constant breezes
with a sort of detachment that she needed… desperately.

“This is My House”, he would announce to no one in particular,
at no particularly special moment…except
to her I guess, and the dog, and his Mother upstairs,
and to himself most of all.

His stubborn willfulness had served him well at one time,
most of his life more likely.  But now it felt like stacks of
concrete pillows, between the two bodies lying side by side.

Was she to be like the desolate dog, if you could call him a dog,
that was allotted two small spaces within which to eat, do his
duties, be quiet and cower.

He addressed him as “Get the Fuck….” as the poor wretch
jumped up, desperate for a touch, for tenderness… and the
man would cringe, because he hated the dog.
It was the most disturbing thing she’d witnessed so far, the
distain he held for this shit eating dog who had so thoroughly
disappointed him and his visions of what a dog should be.

Maybe the dog was just trying to clean up his jail cell,
she thought, maybe he’s really trying to be a good dog…

Was she to be the “other twin”, protruding from his ribs, ever
connected, never her own, never as large or as individuated?
“Be by my side” now had it’s double meaning.

Did he even begin to know how to let anyone in, even one
he claimed to love?  Was he even in control of the little door
that swung open and closed, daily…
There’s the light, and wait…. oh, and now it’s gone…

Did the most courageous man she’d ever known cower
at the possibility of real love?
For this was love becoming real, going far beyond the
fantasy he loved so well and could keep in control.
Beyond the heroes in books he’d emulated, the ones
who would run off to fight another dragon.

No pretense holding distance… This was so real it was
palpable, in the air and sifting like dust to the surfaces
of everything he touched in this cell he shared with her.

“I’m going over the Abyss”, he had sighed one morning,
a couple of days ago.
……………..”and do you know Why?”

She looked long and hard at his face, now miserable
with confusion, yet here he was, the little door opening
just a bit once again …

She motioned to herself…. and slowly he nodded,
…. sadly, tenuously, as though for that moment he had
risen out of his automatic self and was viewing it all
with clarity and a mildly puzzled perspective.

“What do I do?” …..

After a moment, her own answer came, as it always had,
since more years than she cared to remember.

“Jump and Trust…. that’s all you can do…….

“OK….”, he nodded, and it was done.

 

____________________

Aside by

It’s now Thursday, five days into my visit to Rio, to Alcir,
and we’re home, and he’s drinking.  I have never known
anyone who can drink like he can, and yes I know it’s a
bad sign, and yes I know Brasilians drink more beer than
any other country, and yes in that tropical heat, that half
frozen freezer stored refreshment cannot be beat, but…

This man has such high tolerance to everything, since
maybe birth, and so it’s a gift and a curse.  I have seen
him put away liter after liter, go to the store, buy eight
more, I drink one, he drinks the rest, and while he’s out
he’s done shots of Scotch at the local garage bar.

Yes, along those winding urban streets there are countless
bars in garages, little gatherings of men sitting on cheap
plastic chairs, smoking and bullshitting.  It’s a part of
Brasilian culture, the men just go out at night and drink.

So Thursday he drinks, we cuddle, he asks me not to
let him go, and then sneaks out when I fall asleep.
Friday there’s the usual hangovers, denials, and Mr
Bad Mood.  Sullen isolated shit head.
We go grocery shopping at the giant Mercado that we
usually walk to, sometimes holding hands, but this day
he drives us, because his elderly Aunt Maria needs to
go too.  He goes to a chair at one of the little mall stops,
and Maria and I go in with our separate carts and get
what we need.  She is not a happy person in general,
but when neither speaks the other’s language, it’s pretty
lonely.  She cooks, and I can’t even ask her about
ingredients or where something is.  And he’s back in the
mall drinking beer, and beginning to refer to
us as “you people”.    This does not bode well.

I’d so looked forward to getting out and shopping for
things, finding new fruits and vegetables, people watching,
and now he’s just mean and doesn’t want to be there.

When I’m in line, which is always endless… I mean, take
a book or some playing cards when you shop here…
he comes by long enough to load the cart up with beer,
and a big Scotch.  Oh, and I’m buying.
Of course I’m buying… I’m a rich American and I’ve
intruded upon his space, and I will pay.

Maria and I are now pretty much the same, in his eyes.
Irritating women who want something from him.
Never fall in love with a man who hates his Mother.

 

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… not even a week ….

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…the hero…

Ayn Rand is not someone I was familiar with.
I had heard of her of course.  And I was aware that
her writing was important.
But I never read anything of hers.

“The Passion of Ayn Rand”, brilliantly played by Helen Mirren,
convinced me that I need to start reading, especially since
a core in her writings refers directly to the heroic character
that plays the lead in my book.

“Are you happy?” she asked in the film.
“You’re a heroic being.
It is the moral purpose of your life.
And the man must have the woman who reflects
his deepest vision of himself,
and in her surrender is his deepest happiness…”
“and the woman?” asked her friend.
“…the woman must worship the hero.”

I remember so many years ago, when I’d first known him…
I asked him that very question…
“What do you want?”
“To be happy.”
“What makes you happy?”
“I don’t know”…but still, his soul knew that was his purpose.
And I knew my purpose for him when, without a thought,
I asked   …”How’s your spiritual life?”

Love for me has always only felt right with surrender.
And the ultimate high is complete surrender.
How her words struck home.

“I’m looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient,
consuming, can’t-live-without-each-other love.” said Carrie …

I was dealing with a genius with such high ideals, vast education,
and with the physical prowess and unique gifts to accomplish
whatever it was he came here for.  And he knew it.

He knew he had a bigger purpose, and deeply desired to fulfill it.
The feeling that I was there to be the One who really Saw him,
perhaps the first one… and that by my presence I might encourage
and affect the course of this truly heroic being …
Intoxicating.

A purpose beyond me, bigger than me.
Failure never entered my mind, really.
I knew it was bigger than the two.
It was something beyond, that had to be acted out,
in order for some larger picture to coalesce.

There was no doubt.  The compelling conviction lingered
much too long to be anything less than something beyond us.

I still don’t know what the effect or purpose was and is,
but I think for now it just can’t be known.
Something shifted, something altered.
But we are not perfect, and our actions were not always perfect…
or perhaps…
Perhaps they were, and it’s just that we can’t see it yet.

Some heroic dance being enacted, imparting a feeling of
eternity for both, a role being played out greater than either,
something beyond the day, the moment,
beyond the persons themselves.

This was and is the conviction of some sort of
ultimate truth between us.

My fulfillment was the part I was playing in bringing out and
seeing clearly his heroic dreams, his path of righteousness,
the pieces in him that were the truth,
the best elements of his very core.

Holding him to the course the true north, embodying that,
as in the Poem he sent to me; this challenged me to a new
height of My truth.

My search for something larger than myself was just that… holding
to that north that was his vision, what he’d been trained for, born for.

And I found two quotes from Ayn that speak to me…

“What is the nature of Love?
Love is a command to rise to one’s highest potential.
The best and noblest vision of ourselves.
Love is a reward.  The greatest we can earn.
Granted to us for the moral quality we have achieved in our lives. ”

“My philosophy in essence is the concept of man as a heroic being,
with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life,
with productive achievement as his noblest activity,
and reason as his only absolute.”

……….Ayn Rand

I’m still working on all of it.