"appreciate yourself and honor your soul"
over soothing chamomile.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
why do we choose the paths
that we do?
what is cause? and
effect? ... when time is a joke and
consequence is man-made.
why obsess over befores and
afters, over actions and
choices? life is a giant knot,
a messy tangle, an unadulterated
mass of happenstances. we push and pull
and yank threads, turning away and regrouping
for a new perspective, considering alternate
messes, weaving in foreign strings, hoping
to make sense of it all, only to come to terms, much
later, with the mess, and be satisfied
with the opportunity for mess alone, without
kicking ourselves for not making enough sense of it.
if it's ashes to ashes and dust to dust, and lonely dust
at that, in the end ... enjoy the mess. be not discouraged if it makes no sense.
how could it?
that we do?
what is cause? and
effect? ... when time is a joke and
consequence is man-made.
why obsess over befores and
afters, over actions and
choices? life is a giant knot,
a messy tangle, an unadulterated
mass of happenstances. we push and pull
and yank threads, turning away and regrouping
for a new perspective, considering alternate
messes, weaving in foreign strings, hoping
to make sense of it all, only to come to terms, much
later, with the mess, and be satisfied
with the opportunity for mess alone, without
kicking ourselves for not making enough sense of it.
if it's ashes to ashes and dust to dust, and lonely dust
at that, in the end ... enjoy the mess. be not discouraged if it makes no sense.
how could it?
Sunday, September 12, 2010
táctica y estrategia [mario benedetti]
mi táctica es
mirarte
aprender como sos
quererte como sos
mi táctica es
hablarte
y escucharte
construir con palabras
un puente indestructible
mi táctica es
quedarme en tu recuerdo
no sé cómo ni sé
con qué pretexto
pero quedarme en vos
mi táctica es ser franco
y saber que sos franca
y que no nos vendamos
simulacros
para que entre los dos
no haya telon
ni abismos
mi estrategia es
en cambio
más profunda y más
simple
mi estrategia es
que un día cualquiera
no sé cómo ni sé
con qué pretexto
por fin me necesites
mirarte
aprender como sos
quererte como sos
mi táctica es
hablarte
y escucharte
construir con palabras
un puente indestructible
mi táctica es
quedarme en tu recuerdo
no sé cómo ni sé
con qué pretexto
pero quedarme en vos
mi táctica es ser franco
y saber que sos franca
y que no nos vendamos
simulacros
para que entre los dos
no haya telon
ni abismos
mi estrategia es
en cambio
más profunda y más
simple
mi estrategia es
que un día cualquiera
no sé cómo ni sé
con qué pretexto
por fin me necesites
Sunday, September 5, 2010
yoga chapters
i. tadasana: giving myself permission to relax. i cannot force, persuade, instruct, direct, insist that my muscles loosen, hang freely around my bones; rather, i give permission, a polite suggestion, i stop trying so hard.
ii. restorative savasana: some thoughts fly freely through my mind, gently passing by with
a nod, perhaps a wink, on their way elsewhere. others kick my chest from the inside, with a POP.
they startle me, shock my eyes open, make my heart think twice. i named them sparks, and asked that they return later to motivate me, to guide my path, but that they not disturb this moment
iii. side-supported savasana: i fished for love in my mind. at the edge of the sea, i waited for a fish - a love - to come to me. i grabbed it, pulled it close to me and held it tight, knowing all the joy, sorrow and fullness that comes with love. but the longer i clung to it, the more violently it thrashed in my arms, desperate to return to the water. i considered for a moment the risk to keep this fish for myself forever, to know that joy, sorrow and fullness indefinitely, but i knew the fish needed the water, that individual love is only a fleeting flash of a great ocean of love that exists among us. i bent over towards the water and threw the fish back in. i looked to my right at another woman, cradling a fish in her arms, and found peace and satisfaction in her experience, in her happiness, knowing it was part of mine. beyond her, a long line of people stretched one by one as far as the coast did, each in different stages of fishing - some searching, some welcoming, some rejecting, some gazing lovingly at their fish, some in horrible pain at the thought of letting go, others smiling as they released, none aware of the others, thinking their fish was the only fish in the sea
iv. i see you in my home, covered in a thick layer of my fears, my hesitance, my ignorance, my worries. i look at you and say i cannot, i just can't live and love you with my fears between us; i have to believe what i know to be true about you and step with a cautious confidence forward, trusting you completely. i come close to you and peel back the rubbery, gray coating from your face, push it off your head, down past your ears, pull the layer across your shoulders and push it down your body to the floor. i guide you to step away from it. you are golden, and lovely, and smiling
ii. restorative savasana: some thoughts fly freely through my mind, gently passing by with
a nod, perhaps a wink, on their way elsewhere. others kick my chest from the inside, with a POP.
they startle me, shock my eyes open, make my heart think twice. i named them sparks, and asked that they return later to motivate me, to guide my path, but that they not disturb this moment
iii. side-supported savasana: i fished for love in my mind. at the edge of the sea, i waited for a fish - a love - to come to me. i grabbed it, pulled it close to me and held it tight, knowing all the joy, sorrow and fullness that comes with love. but the longer i clung to it, the more violently it thrashed in my arms, desperate to return to the water. i considered for a moment the risk to keep this fish for myself forever, to know that joy, sorrow and fullness indefinitely, but i knew the fish needed the water, that individual love is only a fleeting flash of a great ocean of love that exists among us. i bent over towards the water and threw the fish back in. i looked to my right at another woman, cradling a fish in her arms, and found peace and satisfaction in her experience, in her happiness, knowing it was part of mine. beyond her, a long line of people stretched one by one as far as the coast did, each in different stages of fishing - some searching, some welcoming, some rejecting, some gazing lovingly at their fish, some in horrible pain at the thought of letting go, others smiling as they released, none aware of the others, thinking their fish was the only fish in the sea
iv. i see you in my home, covered in a thick layer of my fears, my hesitance, my ignorance, my worries. i look at you and say i cannot, i just can't live and love you with my fears between us; i have to believe what i know to be true about you and step with a cautious confidence forward, trusting you completely. i come close to you and peel back the rubbery, gray coating from your face, push it off your head, down past your ears, pull the layer across your shoulders and push it down your body to the floor. i guide you to step away from it. you are golden, and lovely, and smiling
Thursday, August 26, 2010
a trip
that emptiness chased me down the road again and
hovered just behind me, whipping through the
wind like a flag eager to claim victory.
i couldn't help but acknowledge it, and
just before a turn in the road, i took
a deep breath in, and i felt
emptiness's dark spot growing in my belly.
at the bottom of the curve
i considered filling the void with
other people, outside thoughts,
vague distractions, and then my cowardice
occurred to me. so i came out of the turn with
an intention
to push myself into that blank space,
to fill the gap with my own wholeness,
my own attention, my own love.
it worked, in a way: i do have wholeness,
i can be attentive to myself, i have
love to offer me. but at the end of the road,
it turns out that me,
my wholeness, attention and love ... we
get awfully lonely.
hovered just behind me, whipping through the
wind like a flag eager to claim victory.
i couldn't help but acknowledge it, and
just before a turn in the road, i took
a deep breath in, and i felt
emptiness's dark spot growing in my belly.
at the bottom of the curve
i considered filling the void with
other people, outside thoughts,
vague distractions, and then my cowardice
occurred to me. so i came out of the turn with
an intention
to push myself into that blank space,
to fill the gap with my own wholeness,
my own attention, my own love.
it worked, in a way: i do have wholeness,
i can be attentive to myself, i have
love to offer me. but at the end of the road,
it turns out that me,
my wholeness, attention and love ... we
get awfully lonely.
ode to another, via the yamas
1. ahimsa: in thought, in body, in words, in energy, i hold you with compassion and protect you from violence
2. satya: we honor the truths that exist between us and for each of us separately, absolving our truth of moral judgment, acknowledging trust as the foundation of truth
3. asteya: i seek to take nothing from you; but rather enrich your life abundantly
4. brahmacharya: the foundation of our connection is rooted in soulful respect, complimented, deepened, but not spoiled, by pleasures of the flesh
5. aparigraha: we seek not to exploit one another, but rather have faith in our capacities and desires to provide for each other
2. satya: we honor the truths that exist between us and for each of us separately, absolving our truth of moral judgment, acknowledging trust as the foundation of truth
3. asteya: i seek to take nothing from you; but rather enrich your life abundantly
4. brahmacharya: the foundation of our connection is rooted in soulful respect, complimented, deepened, but not spoiled, by pleasures of the flesh
5. aparigraha: we seek not to exploit one another, but rather have faith in our capacities and desires to provide for each other
Saturday, August 7, 2010
i intend to
be devastated by my blessings; weep at the magnitude of my wealth; honor my footsteps across a wooden floor; caress each bathroom tile; kiss the windows, open, close them and kiss them anew like old friends; shock my body with each bite i take; savor every single dollar that's mine to spend; hold a vigil of silence and then a vigil of raucousness; long for my own skin and then,
realizing that i've had it all along, hold a joyous celebration for its unexpected return; wait anxiously to see if night falls and, if it does, wonder curiously if dawn will break again; consider every moment in aching love to be a miracle wrapped as a precious gift in brown paper with silk ribbon, open each with unbelieving wonder and accumulate them with loving tenderness; push my body against bubbly molecules of air, swimming, floating, riding them down the sidewalk; consider whether god prefers my conversation over eggs and toast at the table or as midnight pee break soliloquies in a darkened bathroom; sit gently, open my body, move slowly, see beauty and trust life as much as i trust my red lamp
realizing that i've had it all along, hold a joyous celebration for its unexpected return; wait anxiously to see if night falls and, if it does, wonder curiously if dawn will break again; consider every moment in aching love to be a miracle wrapped as a precious gift in brown paper with silk ribbon, open each with unbelieving wonder and accumulate them with loving tenderness; push my body against bubbly molecules of air, swimming, floating, riding them down the sidewalk; consider whether god prefers my conversation over eggs and toast at the table or as midnight pee break soliloquies in a darkened bathroom; sit gently, open my body, move slowly, see beauty and trust life as much as i trust my red lamp
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