Monday, December 28, 2015

5 Poems to Inspire Magic this New Year.

" What you see with your inner-eye, you meet sooner or later in the external." - Florence Scovel Shinn ("The Magic of Intuition.) 

I've found that there is no better way to ring in the new year, than to read something beautiful and inspiring. In a time of "revelations" and " holiday hang overs" and "resolutions for a new year" I find it all so empty.

Instead of creating goals based on a calendar, I try to bring in a new year with a new intention. An essence of the year is far stronger for me and it limits me not by the specifics of a goal, or failure; but by my imagination's way to get creative in betterment. That feels less like coming from a place of lack. 

I approach the year with an honest self-effaced intention to be more, or better or pushed farther than I was last year. To do this, I think it's important to see myself with a bit of an eye-roll and genuinely be tired of that "same old" pattern, persona, idea of whomever I present outwardly. Only then, do I truly become inspired for the wild dare of change and self-belief and momentum....

In no way do I think this is the only or best way to begin a year, but it is, indeed, the best way for me.

To be sick of my old self. See the next day, hour, year as a gift to become. To become...always to keep becoming....

Five poems I picked at random that are perfect for the occasion:

1.) A snippet from John O'donohue:
"A blessing for the "artist" at the start of the day":

"May your imagination know 
the grace of perfect danger, 
to reach beyond imitation, 

and the wheel of repetition, 
Deep into the call of all 
that unfinished and unsolved

Until the veil of the unknown yields, 
and something original begins, 
to stir toward your senses
and grown stronger in your heart

in order to comet to birth
in a clean line of form
that claims from time
a rhythm not yet heard, 
that calls space to
a different shape. 

may it be its own force field
and dwell uniquely 
between the heart and the light

to respires the hungry eye
by how deftly it fits
about its secret loss. "

2.) "The Self-Slaved" by Patrick Kavanagh:

Me I will throw away.
Me sufficient for the day
The sticky self that clings
Adhesions on the wings
To love and adventure,
To go on the grand tour
A man must be free
From self-necessity

See over there
A created splendour
Made by one individual
From things residual
With all the various
Qualities hilarious
Of what
Hitherto was not:

A November mood
As by one man understood;
Familiar, an old custom
Leaves falling, a white frosting
Bringing a sanguine dream
A new beginning with an old theme

Throw away thy sloth
Self, carry off my wrath
With its self-righteous
Satirising blotches.
No self, no self-exposure
The weakness of the proser
But undefeatable
By means of the beatable

I will have love, have love
From anything made of
And a life with a shapely form
With gaiety and charm
And capable of receiving
With grace the grace of living
And wild moments too
Self when freed from you.
Prometheus calls me: Son,
We’ll both go off together
In this delightful weather

3.)  From Dr. Suess. 
"You have brains in your head. 
You have feet in your shoes. 
You're on your own. And you know what you know. 
And you are the one who'll decide where to go."

4.) "What you Make it" - Emil Carl Aurin

"This old, old world is a dreary place
For the man whose pass is a frowning face; 
Who looks for the shadows instead of the light, 
For the sordid and dull instead of the bright, 
Who sees but the worry and labor and strife
Instead of the glory and sunshine of life.

But for him who possesses the saving grace
Of a laughing heart and a smiling face, 
Who sings at his work and laughs at defeat, 
and looks for the good and the bright and the sweet, 
Who cheers on his fellows by word and by deed, 
This world is a pleasant place indeed.

5.) A stanza from "Who I really am."

"Leave me without companion,
without camaraderie, and without friend, 
First take away the awareness of myself,
then let me see who I really am."
-Nashat Isfahani ("Love's Alchemy") 

And so it is all yours to learn, leave behind, let go of, live in, or love with....GO!

"Shimmer with a smile. Life is hard, bloom anyway."

Thursday, December 17, 2015

Words. Words. Words...

I have a friend  that I will leave nameless and refer to as "Jeff Weldy" who used to mock me and my long emails/instant starting a sentence and then writing: "words...words..words..." It never got old. Never.

"So there once was this old broad. She lived back in the eighteen hundreds, did stuff, said stuff and was wicked smart, like knew things and gave people good ideas for when they needed them. "

"A woman named Florence Scovel Schinn was, to me, a ingenue and prolific mentor whose thoughts and translations of life, spirit, universe, the collective and of course, common sense, still ring truer than nearly any "new age" teacher of today."

Two of her more popular books are titled: "The Game of Life." and "Your Word is Your Wand."

I have this debate all too often. People often tell me "you put too much value in words." or "Its semantics" or "Its not about the lyrics, its the music." or "They are just words, jeez, that's not what I meant."

Now, that would be fine and dandy if WORDS were not one of the main vessels of communication other than body language. Especially, in a day and age when people look at cell phones, tablets and computer screens instead of eyes, faces and feel the energy between two people sharing thoughts and feelings. I am on the "Your word is your wand." side of things.

Florence means it in many ways. ( So I believe.) Mostly in the idea that what you put into the universe matters. The vibrational power of saying or writing your goals, your dreams, your manifestations, your apologies...etc indeed carry some kind of power.  They actually have a weight and depth (atomically speaking) once they are released. She even goes on to say they are still extremely effective when NOT released. Who can argue that?

Say in your head only: "I'm a horrible person." twenty times and then say: "I'm a valuable, loving, and unique person of worth and smiles." Test that theory. You'll see what I mean.

So, back to words. Those "silly" letters put together to make sounds describe things. ( I jest.) Truly. I am so in love with words, and words mean everything to me. That said, I realize that we see (or hear) things as WE are, not as THEY are. I get that, and I am usually good at taking it into consideration. That does not mean I am not guilty of misplacing anger, transference or straight-up projecting my own crap into the words I say to others. I'm human.

In Florence Scovel Schinn's Book: "The Magic Path of Intuition" she talks often about manifesting and positive affirmations. In "lesson 3" she chose the word "Sweep" to explain how to clean out any inner words, thoughts, or ideas that do NOT SERVE you or your greater purpose.

"The word sweeps gives you a picture of action. This spiritual broom sweeps out all belief in lack, loss, failure, resentment, inharmony, sadness, etc. You are asleep to your good while these negative thoughts clutter your mental house. You resent someone, thereby giving that person power to harm you. You feel you are a failure, therefore missing your opportunity for brilliant success. You are overwhelmed with with a feeling of loss, and that friends and prosperity have gone from your life. You are still asleep in the "dream of opposites." Wake up and you will find a new world of health, wealth and happiness with every desire of your heart fulfilled. It is brought about by your word, for your word is your wand." 

Let me remind you, she was a America, published in 1925. It is so inspiring to me, and also disheartening, that we ( the collective) had such knowledge and still, STILL go on berating ourselves and each other instead of sweeping out the negative.

So here we are. I'm grabbing my emo-broom, today and for the entire new year of 2016.  How about you?

"Shimmer with a smile. Life is hard, bloom anyway."

Home is everywhere you go. Home is both here and there for them.

There are so many variations of describing what "home"means. Honestly, I feel like I've spent the majority of my life being homesick for some distant place I have yet to identify. In the meantime though,  I take pride in building little nests all over the place.

This fall is no different. I recently moved into a house that truly hugged me. A home when I first crossed her threshold. I'm a big believer in presentation and ambiance. Smells, sights, feelings of a place can deeply affect my mood, and in thirty - eight years, I've learned it does the same for others too.

Let's face it, I am in one of those little vacuums of time in life, when one is sandwiched  between stages. I am not yet divorced, but not living as a married person. I am a single parent building a new Homefront, but my ex lives two minutes away and we see each other daily. That said, my only concern has been to transition my children as comfortably as possible. (This is why I had my house set up 24 hours after the movers left.) I want them to feel the big embrace of comfort and sanctuary when everything else seems to be fluid and in flux.

I am reemerging from the wreckage of all this now. I am fully aware that I most likely won't have such freedoms to design and decorate my house like this if I ever choose co-habitation with others than my kids. Even with them, I'll have to "normalize" so as not to embarrass them. But for now, I hit the big ol' "F*ck it" button and created a gypsy tent-bed, painted the stairs to look like books, put inspirational quotes and love reminders all over the place, painted the door, the external window shutters, and am working on stained glass window hangers with my kids handprints and favorite flowers.

From the outside, in a stuffy (but beautiful and safe) suburb, I'm "Weird." So what? My kids love the whimsical and very personalized touches. But everything can be started anew, or changed or readdressed with new perspective (or paint). That will be yet another good life lesson for them.

There is a blessing from  John O'donohue's "To bless the space between us."

"Home is where the heart is. It stands for the sure center where individual life is shaped and from where it journeys forth. What it ultimately intends is that each of its individuals would develop the capacity to be at home in themselves. This is something that is usually overlooked, but is a vital requirement in the creativity and integrity of individual personality. It has to do with the essence of a person, their sense of their own inner ground. When a person is at home in his life, he always has a clear instinct about the shape of outer situations; even in the midst of confusion he can discern the traces of a path forward. When one is at home in oneself, one is integrated and enjoys a sense of balance and poise. In a sense that is exactly what spirituality is: The art of homecoming."

I know things don't last or stay the same very long. I also know that when my children feel loved, creative and confident in themselves, my divorce or mistakes or mean girls and life's unexpected disappointments won't topple them.

I've worked really really hard to get through my own childhood and lack of any of those things to provide and permeate self-love, self-trust and the overriding truth that YOU (they) are everything they need already and that trusting that and standing sure-footed in themselves will only help them bend in the winds of change.

Happy Friday. Happy home-in-yourself wishes to you,


Sunday, November 22, 2015

A tree dies whispering the secrets of breath.

I wrote this in my meditation journal early 11.21.15. Looking back it's quite prophetic. “

"Breath, in each, is the force that gives way to gratitude and grace and the reminder to come home from wherein’ you were and wherever you are going. Stay with that intimate gift of life and love that gives and receives endlessly while we carry on. Breath is home. Spaces between breaths are the soft, quiet divine silence that we return to and come from." 

Yesterday, a huge tree limb covered my car, then knocked out my electricity leaving a live-hot wire sparking in the front walk way, and me without heat or light for sixteen hours.

Today I watched a beautiful tree sawed down to a stump like that in the book “The Giving Tree.” One of my favorite books from childhood, but now as an adult and mother it is a sad and heavy realist view of parenthood or care-taking and how often most people take that which they are given for granted still finding the audacity to beg the question: “What else can you spare?”

I’ve never been that way. Never. Maybe it’s because I read that book nightly for years or maybe some of us just end up landing here on this planet with a give mentality instead of a take persona. I’m strangely uncomfortable asking for help, or taking nearly anything. I have more guilt than should be humanly possible, and my aversion to owing anyone anything is categorically unhealthy.  This I know, yet still, I continue in this awkward exchange of let me give but give me nothing. It’s rather unfair but I’m working on it.

On giving, and receiving and the approaching of Thanksgiving, I ponder our natural state of taking so many things for granted in such a blessed and abundant world. Sure, there is terror and hate and anger and mistreatment and lies and judgments and hypocrisy. Of course there is, most people take so much for granted that the mentality is so self-driven and we lost sight of our fellow humans and began to create others as threats. Threats to our comfort, success, popularity, love, etc.

I have been alone quite a lot lately. A weird thing has happened in that I notice my breath a lot more than lately. Not just because I can see it in the bitter cold or because it smells like coffee. I mean I am deeply aware of breath. Breath and life.

I ask you to consider taking five minutes maybe in the bath, shower, at your desk, on a walk or laying safely and warm with your children. Make yourself aware of the life force in constant symphony with you. Pay attention to the length and the depth of each breath you take and how in doing so you can be reminded of your own presence and all the millions of amazing filaments of light and energy that must do their part in the miracle of keeping you alive able to sit there observing this little secret.

There is an old saying: “Life doesn’t come with a handbook.”

Oh I beg to differ. Perhaps we want Ikea-like instructions or a booklet with clear directives given any and every possible scenario that may arise? I know I would have like a mentor and constant youtube tutorial for the early days and months of motherhood with a newborn.
I am starting to believe that we indeed DO have a handbook. A comprehensive answer to all that is and will be and was…and how to handle them. Ready?

Breathe IN. Breathe OUT.

That’s it. It seems impossible to be that simple, but I think it is.
Breathing is what constitutes the beginning, end, danger, or fear of our lives as we know them.  Breathing is our gage…it quickens in fear and shock or sadness, and slows with relaxation, but we notice not unless in one of those states?

I think the manual of life is to follow the instructions of your breathe. Keep going, stay rhythmic, and before giving (air) or taking (air) to sustain, we must pause and be still.

Go back to noticing your inhalations and exhalations and you’ll feel and hear that your lungs naturally stop at the base of an exhalation and also still right before beginning a new intake. That to me, is great advice.

We are in constant states of giving and taking, but first before either act we must be present, pause, still ourselves and continue. That simple way might very well be the best instruction guidebook you have. It is within you. It has always been with you, working for you, never fighting you or blaming or asking for recognition.

I breathe in life and exhale life. If I’m lucky, I’ll learn better how to slow down, pause to notice that the spaces in between breaths is the sacred, silent witnessing space of all existence.

Everything that is started from the vast nothingness, and so too does the transitions of life pass through such stages of stillness and empty. It is not a lack, or absence of breath, to me, it is the calm, the quiet and the cure for all things and feelings to still oneself, take pause and begin again…over and over in big ways and small.

Give, be still in yourself, take, be still in yourself, give, pause, take, pause….
So simple it feels too complicated to understand.
But I’ll try for the sake of growing, gaining knowledge and giving back.

****In honor of the Big Bradford Pear Tree that is no more. ****



"Shimmer with a smile. Life is hard, bloom anyway."

Monday, November 16, 2015

Holding to Hope: Responsibility vs. Reactions.

It's 10:00am , November 16th, 2015. An elementary school not a mile away from my house and my three kids (in a different school in the same district)  just got evacuated due to a bomb-threat (that I'm hoping was some sick prank.) I've been moody and sullen since Friday morning, so too, has most of our world. People on social media fighting about who is more "patriotic" or "media coverage and the selective choice to show Paris vs. Kenya." Or "the controlling powers set up of this violence."

Most of us don't know what to help, or heal or make a dent in such a messy large-scale situation. The thing is...we are all scared. We are all hurt and angry that such loss can happen for what? A belief, shock, power? We are sad to feel unsafe and uncertain of anything.

That is understandable, but there is a choice here. The privileges we all (in first world countries) have today are because of hard-fought wars and pain-staking loss. We have the right to say, think and  feel what we want without persecution. This is a blessing, but also a responsibility.

Hearts need to mend in the making of peace.
Energetic solidarity of hope, compassion and the will to see love prevail is potent.
More judgments, more fingers pointing and more violence is reactionary, and less temporary than you may think.

Love each other now.
Put the past in the wakes of yesterday.
Hold hands.
Hug your children.
Lend a hand to your neighbor without invitation to do so.
Brainstorm ways to teach tolerance and the bravery of believing in betterment.
Fight the force of fear that pushes you to pass the toxic thoughts forward in frenzy.

The darkness is only as strong as the absence of lights that turn or get sucked in.
Light your heart.
Light your compassion.
Light your loving kindness to beget and build and bring illumination instead of ignorance.

Have your feelings, allow your hurt, shock and anger, but with love and strength,
Transform instead of transfer
what could become more of the same.
Hope for peaceful ways to eradicate the lowly lost souls of blind difference and disdain.

Hold tight to your beliefs in good.
Hang on with whole heart to the greater collective of loving power.
Heighten the awareness and absolutely necessary mood of support and sustained compassion.
Our children, your grandchildren, your beautiful world of loving, sunrise and sunsets
Needs to be seen by those we've brought into this world.
Seen by eyes of youth and wonder, and safe from barbarity and boiling points.

Laugh if you need to, claim these words are "silly" and "stupid."
No label or name is offensive if in your heart you participate in promise and possibilities instead of power and pain. I ask you, what is lost, what is embarrassing, what is weak in
Standing together, chest out,  hearts open, hands intertwined?
With our children and generations to grow as witness, hold dear the blessings we have had, can have and will create by building from the broken.

For breaking more spirit and each other or stomping all over the sacred beauty and commonality of what times like these bring to surface, we then, are playing into,
 not out of,  the same malice.

I am not against war, lawful persecution, punishment or even fighting. So perhaps that will piss a different set of people off, but I am so very painfully aware right now that we need more love, acceptance, and agreement with each other in a time when reacting with hate, blind rage and hurtful divisive words and actions feels natural. I know we have a stake in humanity, one soul at a time...but the point is, one starts and encourages another with the exact same inertia as the darkness sweeps over masses.

We all have in us the power to protect, preserve and promote humanity and heart conscious actions. We do. You do. I do. I choose tolerance, compassion and a loving power that pushes the need to be "right" or "revenge" or ridicule away to make space for solutions that push us together to stand up and at least add some light to the sea of darkness and rage. It may not be quantifiable, or measurable or something you can brag about at a cocktail party, but I assure you, it makes a difference. You make a difference, and spreading love and compassion vs hate and anger can change so much.

If we all believed one person's light is pointless and it's futile, whom then, can we blame when it all goes dark?

Flamethrowers: I light my heart for humanity and hope. 

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Why you are such a contradiction, and precisely why I love that about you.

I ching:
Was meditating and saw the number “41” picked up the I ching book and went to that page. There I found this little beauty:

“The way to illumination appears dark.
The way that advances appears to retreat.
The way that is easy appears to be hard.
The highest virtue appears empty.
The purest goodness appears soiled.
The most profound creativity appears fallow.
The strongest power appears weak.
The most genuine appears unreal.
The greatest space has no comets.
The greatest talent matures slowly
The greatest voice can’t be heard.
The greatest image can’t be seen. "

Nothing is lost and everything is lost. I know enough now, I truly do, regardless of how people see me, I know. Life is a powerful training session that is a blink of a  universal eye. It is the bubble growing and popping off the lips of a sweaty, chubby-cheeked child. It is the fleeting suspicion that so many of us worry about and it counts. All of it.

Not in the score-card Heaven-Hell way. Not in the comparisons of “Johnny went to Harvard” or “Jane is making boatloads in finance and her husband stays home.” No…the superficiality of those things has a way of giving measure or meaning to things when we can’t find either in ourselves, in our own evaluations of love and life and the amorphous question of where and why and how.

It counts. What you do, what you undo and how you make people feel.
It counts. What you build or destroy.
It counts. Who you lend help to and who you deny.
It counts. How you care about your thoughts and if you don’t care about them at all.
It counts. How you take part in the community of humanity or how you deject it as a separateness in inferiority or superiority.

It all counts, but least we not recognize that the beautiful contradictions count too.They are the universal reminders that absolutism is silly and impossible to ever prove, follow or own.

The contradictions tell us that there is not a mutual exclusivity. Jesus, Mohammed , Moses, Gandhi, Rumi, and Mother Teresa saw that…so did the witches that got burned and berated for tapping into the communal energies that are about. So too, did the Grinch, Tom Sawyer, Bridget Jones, Henry Miller, Van Gough, and the Shepard in “The Alchemist” tap into contradictions or for a more palatable term: "Paradox." But truly....I'm talking about CHANGING who you are and what you think at any point in time and NOT being considered a "Sell out" "Contradiction" or "Lost Soul." You, and all that makes you kind of contradict past, present or future self is just fluidity and growth.

Nearly every artist, poet and genius writer you can name off the top of your head. Have you noticed that? Have you noticed what calls to your deepest self is NOT the most perfect mom of five with a six pack, big boobs and a half-empty message about health and balance. Nor can you truly jump with joie de vivre reading the sullen dark and hardened bitterness of someone who has lost faith in all fellow men and every intuition. They are all provocative and such limited examples of the vastness that populates internet and books shelves and TV shows…

I ask you to notice the quiet ones.
I ask you to witness those people laughing and smiling despite miserable living conditions (mentally or physically). 
I ask you to focus on the passivity of those who don’t need to be winning or to be the boss or showing how special, how big, one-upping and in the top percent they are.
I ask you to look inside yourself and change only the things you can….you.
I ask you to serve as an example of the strength and bravery it takes to be truthful, in the good times and bad and still hold yourself clear enough to keep from judging too harsh that you would be offended at their return in a different set of life circumstances.

I ask you to consider contradictions as something bigger than it’s rather derogatory meaning, and see them more as the TRUTH of what it is to be human and fallible and trying either very hard or very little, they appear in both scenario.

The contradictions are the BEAUTY.  Contradictions within ourselves and our lives or those we love is change, and considerations of different thoughts when new information is presented. That' least I think....evolution. Contradictions make us human and real and should be seen with compassion, not judgment. They are relative. They are the small crack in a window pane that shows the illuminated dust on the floor or the gleam in someone’s eye.

I love this quote on friendship...change, contradiction and acceptance.

If you so choose to contemplate it all, and also plant the little seed of understanding, compassion and love in a limitless, accepting way….

Read this again:

"The way to illumination appears dark.
The way that advances appears to retreat.
The way that is easy appears to be hard.
The highest virtue appears empty.
The purest goodness appears soiled.
The most profound creativity appears fallow.
The strongest power appears weak.
The most genuine appears unreal.
The greatest space has no comets.
The greatest talent matures slowly
The greatest voice can’t be heard.
The greatest image can’t be seen."

"Shimmer with a smile. Life is hard, bloom anyway."

Thursday, November 12, 2015

Same Painting, Different day. Anger and the silver linings in the art of life.

Same painting, different day. Angry lightens, and darkness is part of the art. 

"Does this seem angry?" that's what I asked a couple friends at midnight over text a couple days ago. I laugh at myself often, and strangely in the moment of my overly dramatic emotions. 

I can only describe my last weeks as a washing cycle of emotions and surprises and physical labor and disappointment and the ultimate reconciling of how alone one can truly feel. 

I couldn't write, so I pulled out a canvas...and started to make a black hole because it felt like I was stuck in one....the image on the left is what happened, before my tears were so heavy and prolific that I had to stop.

 I needed to hold tight for a bit and recognize myself in what was actually a qualified (by me) dramatic, sad, confusing, desolate reckoning of the pains of divorce, loneliness, lack of family, friends, overlooked betrayals, forced beginnings and endings and the ramifications of all of it in the quiet silent moments in between "keeping busy" and "moving forward" in spite of the undercurrent around me of disapproval and judgment

Only the next day, did I realize it looked like an eyeball!  There were red angel wings, or a sea urchin? Who's funny now, but I loved that there was still a little silver (teal) lining and lavender calm. I worked with that the next day to complete it. Process it all. And so I did. Just like that, emotions had passed by, and clarity NOT denial settled in. 

After a particularly sad meditation, I felt like looking up the number "11" in my Tao sayings book. So I did, and upon reading that page, I wrote the following in a few minutes, and rarely do I like writing in books, but It felt like a release. 

“There is a sacred darkness within my being.
It holds no opinion, asks not for answers.
It needs no validation, seeks no approval.

It has no envy for light,
It IS light because being the vast emptiness
It can become and is. Always.

There is a sacred darkness within me
That has all the light in the universe
And all the universe has it.
Unformed, unshaped, fertile and fluid

Energy to create something, anything and BE that.
Whilst still remaining where it is.
Everything, and everywhere in all, as all is with it."

So there's that. 
As for today, on this gloomy, rainy, wind-blowing dark day, I'm burrowed in to beam out hope, love and understanding in my novel, in my freelance work, and some pretty exciting paintings I've been conceptualizing. 

I guess the point is that anger is serving a purpose. Sometimes it is to show you a lesson, or teach you about perspective and accountability. When "Old man Pissed-off" brings you to tears next time....write it out, draw, dance, paint, something to get it out that does NOT effect or impact anyone else. 

See what happens. Laugh if you make your own "sea urchin" variation of expression, then pick up your shattered pieces and make a mosaic piece of survival to wear on your life-suit. I did. 

Love, love love, and scary paintings. 



"Shimmer with a smile. Life is hard, bloom anyway."