The restless river begins its churns
tossing me from current to current
the waves are loud
its questions nattering away at me
i am lost in this endless sea
i cry out to an eternal sky, still and distant from my panic
save me from this sea!
It stays quiet in its watching
and offers no paddle boat to safety
although i sense its softness
i am battling with the waves to reach it
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
I want to know life intimately. I want to walk the ragged edges of the sensuous dance that gives life. I am no longer interested in the answers, although i catch myself grasping for them from time to time. There is a curiosity in the unknowing that the fear can't touch. It tries..like a deathly hand grappling to take you from the edge of the cliff that one finds themselves on. Yet the cliff is the imprisonment. Freedom is found in one's releasing from it's embrace. There is no safety in the answers, despite the story our minds attempt to feed our security. There also is no security, despite the structures we attempt to erect to save ourselves. The structures are only new form to what was formless. The closer i move to them, the quicker they evaporate. There is meaning in the moments between. The meaning feeds the still moment before coming to it's death at an unknowable time. The meaning too can be an imprisonment, if you allow it to shape you and cling to it when it is attempting to find release. Behind it lies the timelessness, the dark space of the great void. The space from which we came and from which we will arise again. Although the disintegration of the meaning feels like suicide, the suicide belongs to the ego, not the voice of the soul. The soul does not seek safety in structures but instead seeks to liberate itself to it's own expression, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant in the greater realm of things. I imagine it is the point of liberation the suicide longs for, unaware that they can find it in life. It is life breathing into itself within the very shadow of death.
Friday, October 26, 2012
It was at the end of this night, that I had the opportunity to bare witness to his full moon pipe ceremony.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
I left that weekend with replaying thoughts of a budding seed that had taken root while there. I wasn't sure what it meant, or how I would come to know it, but I felt it land deep in my core. This is the way in which I come to learn that the voice of my truest self is trying to be known. Its the feeling that arises deep within me that something said, something is witnessed or something i've experienced has hit an unknown button that is in the very near future going to come to be known. My teacher had spoken about the divine feminine being within the land. In Celtic history, it was understood that the king that watched over the kingdom of a village was indeed chosen by the land and as such the king would remain her servant, listening for her voice and heeding her guidance when making decisions that concerned the community.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Although my questions on sexuality were active in my summer explorations, so too was the re-emerging performer that Calleach had returned to me through the midwifery of my dreams, the alchemy of my healing. My artist had gone under in the early periods of recovering from my sexual trauma, the voice that had protected me had buried itself in the ground. I would learn in my shamanic studies in the autumn, that not only was it the voice that was buried, but it was some of my soul parts carrying the medicine of the way i expressed myself in the world. Without my tools, there could be no art. Without the art, there could be no expression. Without the expression, there was no medicine. The second shamanic weekend of this year in the apprenticeship, in the time of the east, we were to re-claim wounded parts of the maidens that continued to live in us all. When I journeyed on this, i was shown an array of images of dancing with my father as a child. My feet pressed on the tops of his, while we waltzed around the kitchen floor. My childlike eyes were wide with wonder and awe, at this magnificent embodiment of the masculine that was my dad.
Monday, October 22, 2012
The next morning, Mehr still greeted me with respect and loving kindness. He was of his own accord but still sensitively checking in, the affections born of our connection the night before still present but not enamoured. I anxiously awaited a visit from the shaming internal voices, waiting for them to begin their reign of terror. Their attempts at wreaking havoc upon my sense of self respect for drunkedly disrespecting myself by jumping into bed with yet again a perfect stranger. Curiously, those voices never came. There was both a closeness and a distance that remained between us. Our closeness born of the extremly intimate bonding that had taken place just hours before, yet a distance in our knowing that what happened for us in those hours did not follow a lengthy getting to know one another, 'nor did it seem either of us felt it neccessary to do so because we had united in that way. I was deeply touched by what happened that night for a number of reasons. I think for many of us, sexuality is not seperate from a moralistic view on what frameworks are appropriate for engagement. In my experiences individually and from what I have observed in others, we attempt to moralistically arrive at viewpoints, informed by our questions and therefore experiences in the world that we then develop values, principles and codes of conduct that determine our methods and limits of sexual engagement. The challenge of course is that if we construct and live out these things with a rigidty, we impose our mythologies that are relevant for a time but ultimately come to a place of obstructing the ways in which we may be challnged to grow, or more importantly be given opportunity to heal. Although I was able to detect that there were two underlying impulses that drove my sexuality, one of self honoring and one of self destruction, I was still attempting to define these behaviors through the lens of these structures. I assumed up until this point that when i "jumped into bed too quickly" was when i was in the mode of objectifying myself and that if i gave rise to the lengthy dance of romantic intimacy prior to engaging someone physically, as i was exploring with sundancer, that i was awakening to the calls of self honoring. What made this experience with mehr so different from the ones with the others, in which my crossing the threshhold of engagement left me with days of enshadowed consequences? Specifically because at the onset of my engagement with Mehr, he as a person did not entice in me a deep feeling of interest. I still do not have the answers to this question, yet a few observations have explained how deeply moved i was by this experience. Mehr and I had connected under some seemingly similar contexts as many other one night explorations had taken shape along my destructive history. Yet from the beginning he demonstrated honor and respect. He had taken interest in my replies to his questions through out the night about who i was and what i was passionate about in the world. I had watched his reactions to me like a hawk throughout the evening. I could sense his desire and observed if his desire was in fact enticed by me and shaped by the environment or whether he was in a state of desiring overall. Although he mingled with many different people throughout the night as the rest of us had, he did not demonstrate a seething desire for others, yet in fact had his eye on simply me for the duration of the evening. Yet there were so many beautiful women present. His passion for me while we were making love was genuine and authentic, ruthless but also gentle. He respected himself and respected me by seeking to protect himself without any dialogue on how his pleasure might be obstructed by wearing a condom, an experience i have had so many times before. When we awoke in the morning, he did not try to overcompensate on behalf of what we had experienced the night before either by pretending to be more involved with me than he really was or by treating me like i was as insignificant to him as i might have been when he met me only the night before. Neither of us had any reason to make this out to be anything other than it was. A beautiful and deeply intimate sharing of two people, in one space in time, if only for the pure reason of our mutual pleasure and enjoyment. A beautiful transparency, lost of any fictional dramas or stories meant to justify what was already justifiable. What made it even more beautiful for me was the lack of a need either of us displayed in securely protecting the experience for ourselves and seeking to replay it. In his coming to kiss me goodbye before leaving the firespinner/wyldewoman household the next day, the simple goodbye represented all that had been. A closeness and a distance. There were no phonenumbers exchanged, an asking of when we might see eachother or how we might continue what we had begun. 'Nor did i secretly hope for one and anxiously grapple with why it was not occuring. It was like a brilliant unfolding of gratitude in the present without seeking to hold, control, make pain out of, tell a story abount but instead just allow it to be, for what it is, for what it was, for what it needed to be. Yet in the tenderness of that kiss, there was also a respect, an honor and an acknowledgement for what there was and what there had been for one single moment in the eternity of time. It seemed finally, my fast was broken, I had come out of the insatiable devorous hunger that the forced abstinence of my sexual expression had seethed and prowled for and in it's surrender had been given that which i was seeking but never coming up against. I didn't know if it would happen again and it didn't matter, because something in me was free and for once i trusted that whatever moments were next to come, whatever gifts they brought with them or lessons to impart, would be the right ones, in their own rightness of time and rightness of place. In the meaantime I would continue my journey stumbling blindly through the dark, presented with new experiences for trial and error and just trying to continue to identify and honor the feelings in my body, trusting them as the only source of truth as my guide.