~labyrinth walk~

in honor of Mary Magdalene's annual Feast Day (July 22), a group of women came together to walk a labyrinth.

walking a labyrinth is an ancient practice, a moving meditation. one walks upon the pathway in their own timing. the thoughts that come may illustrate what is in the way in life: obstacles, modes of thinking, patterns that could be contributing to unsatisfactory outcomes. this walk towards the center is a time to witness & notice what arises from within. when the center is finally reached, it is a moment to surrender & receive from that silent space, for however long that would be. walking from the center outward, the purpose is to move that filled up feeling into life beyond the labyrinth.

we filed along the side, sauntering one by one from the southern point of the circular spiraling pattern, 11 layers deep. the wind was strong this night & had blown the candles out that were scattered across the field to illuminate the curves in the path. it was difficult to see. i had a sudden thought to grab the lighter in my purse. i had bought it on a whim in a gas station on a road trip simply because it had a ferocious tiger on it i was delighted this special night was the inaugural use of the tiger lighter!

when it was my turn to begin the walk, i knew it was my job to relight the candles on the path. i bent down, turned the glass upside down. gusts & drafts bent the flame over my thumb numerous times. the button to ignite was hard to push down with one lone finger. the shape of the lighter proved to be aesthetic & inefficient for profuse use, like lighting 50 candles on a windy night. the wicks would catch the fire, often flickering for seconds before being blown out again. still, i walked & crouched to each candle that appeared on my path.

as i walked, i noticed how my body was tracing along. i began to feel like i might have missed a turn and was heading back out, away from center. with my focus of lighting candles, burning my thumb & trying to push the button down, i was worried i went the wrong way. a part of me wanted to jump the black brick outlines & go to the center, because i probably skipped a turn and was on my way out. i did not want to miss the center! i told myself if i did actually somehow miss the center and found myself on the line for the finish, i would turn around and go straight to the middle.

and through this odd anxiety i still went about the work of lighting candles. a woman closeby had whispered in my direction: "they keep going out!".

this summed it all up. that moment. when people invalidate an act of inspiration. when the elements seem to conspire to have things their way. when it seems like nothing at all is supporting that small voice that told me to light those candles. after hearing what she said, i looked across where i had walked to survey the scene. there were glints of yellow light warming the inky blue cast of sky, small glows dancing. i was facing myself, seeing my journey inside. what i decided was happening was:

facing my obstacle of feeling/seeing lack of support.

to use that as an excuse to give up.

facing feeling foolish for following an inner calling that seems to derive no material success.

that i crave the direct way of getting somewhere, not the circular way.

especially when i see where to go but the path seems to lead away from it.

lack of trust.

clarity.

sigh.

i felt even if the effort of lighting every candle resulted in just a few remaining lit, it was worth it. if it's lighting up white wax votives or lighting up people with what i share, it may be that not all stay lit, not all carry the flame. but with that effort & contact, some fires remained. the labyrinth showed me that. and those little lights helped the people who came after me, enhanced the mood, the sacredness. the message was obvious, and i felt it deeply.

i decided to cease lighting the candles until i reached the center. i also dropped the absurd anxiousness of not getting to the center. there just isn't a wrong way to do this!

i had gone barefoot. the surface was sharp gravely bits that were certainly keeping my awareness honed (i have feet! i have feet! i really feel them!). it felt good to imagine all of this stuff i just discovered leaking out of my feet into the gravel & the dirt beneath. so fucking grateful.

and without notice, i was at the center. i did a mini jump up & down as not to disturb the others on their trip. i sat down in front of the group of candles & lit them. i put my hands on the ground & felt that moment. it felt like nothing. it felt like tingles. inner movements. quiet. i loved how the gravel memorized my hand prints. i departed with so much joy. i wanted to skip & dance my way out, but with others around, i felt it would be too distracting for me to express fully. so the smallest joyful thing i did was to, at a turn, instead of walking in the direction of the turn, i counter-turned. this made me feel like i was dancing, a little counter spin at each point. it felt so heightening to do this!

at the end, the facilitator greeted each person. when i came to the exit, she hugged me & said "thank you for lighting those candles". i smiled.

thank you Mary for kindling me,

for miracles when i thought none were left

for your outpouring of love

and teaching me how to do the same

love, love, love

flowers for Mary

Madelines for Mary

flowing, focusing, eclipse hit #3

i am made to do marvelous things

i experience magic everydayi am transforming energy in positive directions

i create exhilarating experiences for myself

i attract wonderful opportunities

i swim through life gracefully with style & ineffable beauty

i feel free

i am Rightly Guided

i know what steps to take

i trust

i use my body to create beauty

i use my body to promote peace

i use my body to love & bring joy

i Exalt!

i am writing the poetic messages to the world

that i have always wanted to write

i am a dancer

i am a healer

i love everyone

i am fascinated & inspired by all the life around me

i heal the earth with my awareness of her

i am Aware

i am Complete

i am Enlightened

I Am

i feel supported

i feel appreciated

i feel thankful

i am grateful for freedom

i am restored in beauty

i am restored in nature

i live to love

i love to live

i am honored to be a part of creation

i always have access

access to knowledge

access to resources

access to God

access to help

access to funds

access to ideas

access to education

access to information

access to other realms

access to finding the best solution

access granted

i am Peace

i am Powerful

i naturally lead

i naturally know

i naturally live

i naturally give

i naturally receive

i naturally create what is helpful

i nurture

i care

i shape & make the future with both hands

and with a loving heart

i drench my life in love, in color, in optimism, in rightly guided actions

i am endless

i am hopeful

i am inevitable

*

//pattern breaking|\

in ReWire Solo Body Work,

we were acquainted with the black marley floor

which doubled as a minefield, attempting to truly

embody freestyle by freeing our bodies from

habitual movement by way of chaos:

chaos of intention:

there is a thought of movement. perform the movement but stop it before it completes. do this at a steady pace.

i notice something in the brain that freezes. feels stuck. a certain

stiffness & a wanting to rebel against non-flow unable to discharge

energy into the patterns the body is used to feels frustrating. and also,

creative.

chaos of idea:

finish a movement but make the next unlikely, an action unrelated to the one that precedes it.

we look like malfunctioning machinery. yet there is a distinct grace,

an intelligence i see moving through staccato limbs & spontaneous

weight shifts. it feels like we are doing something important, together.

communicating a language that has truth in it, with daring boldness

to attempt to speak it.

the perfect solo: a 45 second free dance as you are observed by another who will choose 3 patterns that emerge from your solo. you are informed of the three patterns and instantly you must perform another 45 second dance without any of those 3 motions.

during this work, someone said: "i can't move. i can't move!"

a tight bind the mind could not escape so quickly, could not resort

to the maneuvers it was used to that she didn't even know she had.

a freedom moment.

my 3: movement initiated from shoulders. downward gaze. limbs making right angles.

stunned to hear the feedback as these pattern motions were not in my awareness. i was delighted to hear of them. i also wondered how to move without bending my legs at right angles.

feeling the lights on my face feeling neck bent upward. difficulty originating movement from a place other than my shoulders/upper chest. deliberate choices. delving into straighter or more curved limbs. playing with planes with momentum to continuously transit & transition, even when i decided to slow down.

there is a vocabulary, a composition which the improvisation lays upon, layers

of language in endless synthesis & tempo, each stroke bearing an energetic signature

underneath, unique with the taste of the one who moves, their mark undeniably

witnessed in the form of choices; it can be none other than She that moves that

way she moves. i want to freestyle write the way i freestyle dance:

creating fresh flow, a new pathway to travel electrically ~

my most favorite thing: to put side by side words unlikely

creates momentum! a velocity of feeling that may jolt

spine or eject giggle!

recently, words have been held back, diverted or

absent as the focus of present moments consumes

contemplative creative combinations of consonants & vowels,

the chronicling of occurrences/extract exalt of lived moments

left undone.

i'm feeling the void.

i'm seeing the white of lined pages simply lined, unfilled in.

the white COMPOSE box blank more than black angles & curves

of letters filling potent space with the intensity of how i experience living.

there are words spoken & words unspoken; taking the role as deliverer of perspective

in personal exchanges with a wisdom aware of when to sit a bit in the mystery,

to let silence speak long pauses.

the sun is, again, the center of things.

i moved so slowly this week, an aching heavy tired to endure with bright days

bearing down, thrusting thermometers to triple digits. my body unwilling to move

faster than the speed of something swallowed. and suddenly energized as the blaze

moves down to invite nights of mild air to breathe & soothing breezes upon skin.

the journey of waking up & moving through the day is a tumult of sensations:

feeling good but tired, hot but not complaining, yoga, dance & ensemble improv

alongside laying awake unmoving, napping in the noon. sweating through clothes

and eating cold coconut ice cream, healing work & mindless random enjoyment.

everyday is a tension of opposites that seem to pull upon me as i negotiate the balance

between them, focused more on the field they create in the center space, feeling

held fast by the gravity of their interplay.

i have been learning to ignite the fire inside,

focused in the navel.

some days it feels so difficult.

but people are in need. my life needs me.

it's a lot like that feeling of needing to find something

quickly in a messy room with piles, the frantic digging

searching. this is me inside me seeking to find the flame.

i find two sticks instead & rub them together. must make

the energy, generate it. friction heat, to sparks, to burst

of light.

it has been working.

such a push through these

thick times of embers.

i feel the assurance of anchors, a root down

into a confidence place, success manifest through

right action in right timing

like i'm finally learning

how to live,

a moving work of art,

a real dancer.

(thank you to Leslie Scates & Nina Martin for Ensemble Thinking/ReWire Solo Body Work)

https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=114221108666769

dilate

mother's day dance today.

dropping into dance was thunder, rain sounds. a singing poem
about Mother, Shakti, giver, holder, source, beyond the beyond.

i felt the heave of how intensely undernourished i have felt for years, fast forwarding to the times of feeling like i was taking care of the household, being so tough, going without, waiting for attention, waiting for feeling good, doing things to earn love, feeling not good enough, unimportant, pushing hard, everything difficult & unimproved for so long

i hated pink
i hated hair products
i hated double standards
i hated menstruating
i hated my skin
i hated being a girl
i hated my mother

i was on the floor remembering these things, crawling with another dancer, feeling tears close. Samadhi dances up to me, smiling. i try to hold back the buildup i sense inside, to be strong & act as if i don't need anything. i think to myself "i hate this dance, i want to leave". but it is not the dance i hate. it's feeling pain & not knowing what to do with it. feeling like it will kill me. she bends down to embrace me & it all comes out. high pitched strained sounds that almost broke my heart to hear, oozing from nose & crying eyes, just like a baby. i felt how happy she was, her calming hands on my back & nurture noises. the only way through these emotions was to feel them. after awhile, she fetches tissue for me to clean up & i decide to get up & tone with the music, to let whatever is rising & shaking me & taking over my faculties to be dissolved with acknowledgement & movement.

i had an eye contact dance. we moved other body parts but were engaged in a fixed gaze, my vision focused on her right eye. i felt a feeling emerge, a feeling of wanting her to have everything, the feeling pouring from the heart. wanting her to be taken care of & have nothing lacking. i imagined this must be what a mother can feel - a deep desire to give everything to their child, their loved one. the depth of it was astonishing, an ache with sweetness. it comes from so deep within, and it is total.

during the dance 2 guys were sitting on the floor talking to one another; one of the biggest features of the dance is that it is NON VERBAL. it was comical that they were sitting & chatting as if music wasn't blaring & bodies weren't flailing about in front of them. i went up to one & covered his mouth mid sentence. the other one said "you're mean", and then i covered his mouth, smiling, feeling: "this must be what it's like to regulate, be boss mama!". i went behind them & pet their hair & played with their energies, each of my hands on each of their backs, working with the brow chakra, the places along the spine, base of the skull. grounding & soothing. the music became spare & sweet, my signal to go to the floor once more.

women are amazing creatures. how they feel, how they give, what they undergo, if they are a mother or not. sharing their core & giving all they are, letting go after such intense fusion with another, to endure the loss with grace. that their body can experience so much so deeply, their bodies that open to let life pass through, their hearts that open to let love through. i am in awe.

we closed the dance by saying our birth names & the names of our mothers. more tears.

Stephanie Shinta Hagakore, daughter of Elizabeth Laura Ciriello

it felt almost like the beginning of a eulogy,
each of us in succession naming our mothers
and the names they gave to us,
the thrust of a birth line, the push
from one generation into the next.
life keeps going, going, going
ceaseless movement & mystery,
and somehow, love is the point.

passion strokes

i let the breezes pass
through to dry the paint.

fervor, passion strokes.
i was so fearful of letting
myself dream, form a fantasy,
allow myself to say"what if?"
and see it. paint it.
i resisted, and the painting said
"if not here, where?"

when the other painters saw my work:
"juicy wild abandon!"
"water mystery of male & female, opposites working together"
"when i see you painting, i feel turned on! adventure!"
"i feel loved"

i feel myself carried away from familiar
floating on a downstream of rapid
unknown filling the horizon
change, change, change
leaving, arriving
is all we seem to do.

the top quarter of the painting

the pregnant oracle

i paint with words, more beautiful
than what i make with actual paint.
i vibrate the sounds within, wield
pictures with sounds, syllables

.............................................

holding the moment, eyes
roll back under lids, feeling
deeply into the silence.
Bliss sings my heart.

realize where i am
amongst the beauty,
reverberations of serenity
echoing from the corners
back through me and sent
out again, amplified as
the red glow of my dress
is vivacious against the
green of the plants in the
room that sit like an audience
for me; i feel their attention.

i sense the life under my skin,
warm energy brightening the
elements this body is composed
of. "i have life for you!" it says,
without words, with full feeling.

this womb that has wept, held
strong, built, been denied, longed,
danced; she sings for her equal,
wanting to merge, wanting ecstasy
of uniting. the remembrance of Eden
buried in the nucleus, extraordinary
energy, powerful & difficult.

your breath on my neck reminds me
of everything i want, awakening
rapture fire, activating chemistry
as ancient as alchemy, lighting up
my eyes, lining up my stars
on the edge of a new destiny, an
unexpected direction, a myriad of
choices.

choosing it

not choosing it

i am told i am limitless and everyday is
feeling the boundaries, finding them, breaking
them, choosing how to proceed,

blood that pulses whispering
promises of dreams forming to
be touched, tasted, cultivated
here is the body, now move with
this color, gently. easily create in
absolute trust as source comes
through, Namelessly.

flooding with hope, with confusion.
sleep. steep. Silence will answer.
every time, in every age. it always has.

but nothing is silent here on earth,
not even the forest at night or outer
space. all that lives, sounds.
then what is silence?

feed. love. create.

transforming the composition of me
to liquid light beaming from eyes, lips
that can light a century, a flame that
burns with no oil, its own source.

draw near. feel me. know me.

do you know who i am?

do i?

ceaseless consciousness. eternity
in form. a dream of the Universe
as i dream it during my days as a
Human.

You are the sum of creation,
You are the push into what is
yet to be formed,
the pregnant oracle.

you know

you flow

spiraling from the deep
mystery, wordless knowing.
following star maps of destiny
wavering on the bliss of eternity

know that whatever it is you want, it can be done.
You create the possibility & steward the vibration
to form. from the mulch of matter comes language
and life. wield the word with love and bless the world
with what you want, with what you give. this is how
you are God.

foundations

i taped pieces of paper together to paint on. then painted over
what i painted; a constant transformation. like life: changing:
re-arranging, the same colors in different forms. the former
images peeking from beneath, a foundation for the future.

an inevitable wanting to move forward, to know how to unbind
from what has been known to a new mode. each moment is a
threshold of decision, to make or break a destiny, a living future;
filled with wonder, filled with the euphoria of possibility. a color is
selected. the skid of a brushstroke. the image alters.

my mind drifted to success. i thought of people who are successful.
i felt that all of them had strong support of their family. emotional,
financial. i wonder how i can create success on my own, seeking
to augment the sense of fragmentation that colored my bringing up.

this is when the animals came flocking to the scene: a bright fire bird
in the sky like a sun. a swan white with a knowing eye steady on me
as i found the horse hiding in the swirls of blue & purple. each with a
message, a memory. the support arriving at the time i was reaching
for it, my absolute refusal to believe my past could hold me away
from that which i am seeking, to raise myself, to break, to transcend.

intention for resolution: identify, release, upgrade. paint on, paint
over, slather, writhe, pop, sigh. becoming. i generate the direction,
being me fearlessly. waiting, fluids, timing. the rhythm of life, the
rhythm of breath. communicating the interior fresh alive, skin inside
out all here in paint, to coalesce matter to being with the strength of
desire.

become.

yesterday was paradoxes and being pulled in the water.

underneath everything, i feel i am not truly understood;
this is a huge part of why i push to communicate, to reveal
those places, show them, dig in myself to surface the hidden
within me that aches with the need to be acknowledged.
it is important to be whole, to be seen as whole, to be
wholly understood.

i discovered a current of pain that persisted despite
friends that are loving & accepting & unusual themselves.
the poison wringing out like water from a washcloth, squeezed
away. i am seeing within me the weaknesses, releasing them
to tide with who I truly am.

the past 3 days were an effort to feel good, but thankfully, i had
awareness. it is all passing slowly, steadily. focused on spiritually
working, organizing & lining up with the right timing. i consistently
feel the rightness of things, and this is very helpful.

the days are thickening with humid air & seeping summer tones.
this early morning is birds sounding across the part of sky i can
see from my windows, diffused sunlight refracted by cloud cover
with sturdy jasmine effusing invisible clouds of its euphoric aroma.
even as things shift & change, there are comforts like these that
hold a reference point i can rely on, the goodness of life that peers
through times of instability, transition & uncertainty. i am grateful for
the mornings in Houston. grateful for words. grateful for time to get it right.

as the moon draws near full, the unresolved comes unstoppably careening
to the fore! part of the natural cycle of accumulation/cleansing.

the aforementioned was not a criticism of who i spend time with but simply
that who i am is a massive infinite daily revelation, and i truly believe, now,
that some people are just not designed that way.

and a deep part of me wants so much to be relatable, to share it all & give
something that is meaningful, that makes sense, that illuminates a part of me
to light a part of someone else.

despite what inner excavations are taking place, i am blessed to know
how to have fun & to have people to enjoy it with!

nectar

covered over last weeks efforts completely. it would have felt bold if i felt more attached to what i painted over. in wondering how to proceed, it seemed to be the only way that made sense after a long moment sitting with the image, facing it eyes closed with hands pressed onto it awaiting a sense of what was next. the feedback was very little; i felt held in mystery. all my movements & decisions thereafter seemed preverbal - pure movement uninitiated by thinking.

new forms emerged from the purple/blue/turquoise swooshes, adding more length along the bottom edge. the energy it takes to create is intense. i painted. i slept for a bit in front of an altar of amethyst & oracles. sporadically fed myself & sipped on guava goddess kombucha. felt myself in an altered state. had a vision of myself in a certain pose - bent on right knee, grabbing ankle with right hand, left leg bent with foot planted on the earth. naked with flexible branches around my waist & a band across my forehead with a few long feathers in my hair. eyes. i told Samadhi of this vision & was excited, wanted to go to the woods after class & take pictures of me doing this. it felt important. she said "wow! well, why don't you paint it too?". and suddenly my lack of skill for bringing the vision perfectly into form hit, but i understood: we're in painting class, i had a vision, it's my job to paint it.

and so it was that i mixed brown with white & a tiny bit of red & green left in the paintbrush. the limbs went spread eagle; i decided to keep it that way & continue. an arm across the belly brought an awareness of how light & shadow define objects of the same color. for the time being, those body parts are merged.

in a dialog with the painting, the figure called herself Rainbow Dancer. when asked why she appeared: "i am pulled & called when someone is asking for help. i am not a body but exist inside bodies. dance in colors. push out things that don't belong there, make the colors as pure as possible". i knew she was speaking of chakras. she has no body but in this painting wanted to have a body like mine, with cinnamon skin and black hair reflecting the colors surrounding it. the huge flower i painted over shows up again over her yoni. a magenta petal drips nectar. she tells me: "flowers have energy. people smell them, want them, appreciate them, they awaken the senses. it draws energy to that area, to show it's a beautiful place, a healing place. it's so good to be juicy!".

i felt so high, slingshot into the cosmos. and i wanted so much to go for a walk, to ground myself in nature. Samadhi agreed & we went to the mountain bike trails at Memorial Park. we enter the trails after 7pm. the daylight was dim and only 3 humans & 3 dogs were encountered the entire hour+ walk. we removed our shoes barefeet on the hard hilly dirt threaded with tree roots & topped with soft silt & leaf litter. we talked among the towering trees, the lowering light. i anticipated walking in the dark and loved feeling my soles touch earth, the contact reminding me what little contact my feet have with her. we came to a huge cedar & hugged her. i pulled up my shirt so i could press my belly & breasts into the bark. we stood there in unison with our bare skin connecting to the tree. it felt so good to be there, to connect with the darkest dark Houston could cull so close to a new moon & prolific street lights.

revelation

a dream of violence. it was as if i was teleported back to childhood, my mother & father in the stairwell of the apartment building we grew up in viciously fighting. my brother was mixed in there somehow, he was getting hurt. i could sense the vibrational atmosphere of my youth: emotional instability, financial difficulty, constant fighting. i had called the police & the dispatcher kept repeating back the wrong information. i was worried the police would go to a different house. i hoped they would arrive during the action, not when everything was already over, when it would seem like it never happened, where i would then be in danger of getting beaten for breaching our private world with other eyes seeing what really happened behind our doors.

i watched from the top of the stairs. saw mom get tossed around, her clothes torn, and they are still fighting; i could feel the energy behind it. my brother makes it out of the fray & to the room we shared with bunk beds. he was trying to complete some homework. he then shared with me that he had a girlfriend at school and he was hiding something from her, hiding his feelings. he created a whole other internet blog to write these feelings in and she found it, was upset about him not sharing with her. i understood the whole situation. i realize then the police never make it to our house.

i emerge from dreamstate (which feels almost like a memory) to a room with heavy stagnant air & a sky so thick with haze it is as though the weather was dreaming with me. i am stunned, remembering old feelings, how i grew up; the trauma & shock of these emotional rages i witnessed & was sometimes the center of. i fold myself over and surrender the images, the feelings, the tightness in my jaw. breathe in & let these tired black sticky feelings release.

to prepare myself for the day, i sound tone all my chakras, drink a coconut water/banana.spinach smoothie, apply khus oil to raise energy. i balance between allowing healing & taking action to ensure i am kept in a space i need to be to live life deeply & fully, lifted, bright.the dream comes right before i am to paint, so i know it is a messenger.

i come before my work. no one else can paint this painting or speak these words. the message:

i MAKE energy, i am a GENERATOR. a Source.

creation is desire, breath, reaching, fluids, timing, waiting.

creation is inevitable.

Creation Is.

as i paint and see images begin to greet me, i try & guess what they are. i ask the painting: "is that a tree?". it responds: "i don't know, is it?". i continue to paint and see that it is a tree. but then, it begins to feel like a mountain. i ask: "is this a mountain?" and after some strokes it becomes the visual to that word. but i feel heat, or maybe the color is a bit ashy. i ask: "is it a volcano?" and minutes later there are cracked lines in it pouring & spurting lava.

i Choose and it Is.

i remember the dream, early life, and breathe deep.
i choose and it is, even at a time it seemed i had no control

in this creation dimension i feel colors, touch them,
laugh with delight, shift shapes around finding
and feeling for the passion, charged up, reveling in
the revelation that i create destiny with each choice,
that if i lack anything, i can always make more & pour
it back into my life, makes shapes & name what i see,
heart-breath-vision-sound solidifying my feelings
wrapped around my thoughts. when the question is:
is this my life, is this my destiny? the answer is already
at the tips of my fingers.

and then, i see it.

source painting scrawlings: second day

i arrived early for painting assistant duties vibrating on a high from days of magic; emotional tidal waves of bliss, love and sensual peace shining through my eyes and working through my hands to set the space in order: water in the cups, floor swept, garbage out, meeting room spiffed, paint bottles shaken, both floors sage-smudged & channeled deep prayers that spun healing intentions into the space itself, touching all participants before their arrival with that intense sensation i held. i was effusive, smiling & motivated to spend a day in visual/spatial dimension.

then it all turned.

this is what happens when paintings need to grow: paper added with tape too sticky strong & ripping or bunching up in odd wads or catching before the pieces are lined up along the edges. needed to cut cardboard working surface with dull scissors for easier swapping of work spaces, moving canvases to make more room to spread. the labor was intensive and help was needed in many directions. a creeping foul feeling began to permeate my mood. i noticed it as a sharp contrast to how i began the day. irritation, frustration rising.

by noon, we had set ourselves in the Angel room to transmit a prayer to the waters of Fukushima, Japan at the behest of Dr. Emoto, who called for a worldwide water blessing on this day at 12pm in every time zone. i fell into this space deeply, felt a strong sensation of giving, sending healing and was pulled out of it by the ringing of a bell.

4 hours went by and i had hardly touched my painting. by the time i made it to my own station, i was reluctant to do anything to it. i saw it wanted to expand but after growing other paintings, it hurt to think of the tediousness of the task. i resisted. i moved some paint across the surface, but it was not at all fulfilling.

and then, i saw it. i saw how i treat myself, the thoughts overlayed upon the canvas of my awake state. that sometimes i give to others & when it's my turn to do for me, i am unmotivated, i lack the energy or will for it. i could clearly see my reactions to the activities of the day had nothing to do with what was happening in front of me. that i was flowing easy like a river, and suddenly hit a dam. it's obvious something is in the way inside, feeling myself strike against this barrier & jamming up my flow of good feelings. this is part of the Source painting process.

and this strange aversion to do for my own picture what i did for others all day could not abide. i looked around & saw everyone so engaged in their work since the cumbersome task of expanding the surface was accomplished. i avoided asking for help to allow them continued involvement with their images. i took my work off the wall & added more space to fill, taping & re-taping to get the bones of the painting as perfect as i could manage. whatever poison may have spit out in thoughts or feelings i consciously halted from feeding off of my attention.

being called for another task, i felt so weak i could not even sit up with my own power, sinking into my left hand as my right hand scribed a dialog process. when it was done, i came before my painting once more & filled the new sheets of paper with bluepurpleturquoise as fast as i could smear, binding it in continuity with the rest of the image.

i lacked energy so deeply i really thought i could die. i went into the Angel room & slept. i remember no sounds, no thoughts. i awoke when someone entered the room. painting time was over. everyone gathered into the room to check in. sitting up, i felt more like i did at the start of class, easily happy, nurtured, bright. that dam felt dismantled, that it took so much energy to do it and now that it was done i flowed again, touched that part of myself that needed help. i cheerfully relayed my day & was so grateful to have had the space to discover & mend this place within myself, grateful for the construct of this class to have brought it to my awareness: to give to myself so that i can give.

even though my painting hasn't reached a certain fullness of expression, i feel ready to dive in day 3 and give it everything i have to give. determined!

joyous blackness, deep evolve

the sun of the afternoon was warm, liquid-like
through the windows. a vision of a light sheath
with two rainbow snakes spiraling around it moving
upward suspended in an unlit space. i questioned
my skills to bring it into being but was happy i had
an image to put to paper.

as i approached the table to select the paint, i was
directed to begin making the black background with
magenta. of course! because black is all colors added
together, complete.

i slathered the paint with my palm, spreading circular
each color, thickening the field from light to dark like
a sunset fading into shades of dusk. each layer kissing
the one beneath, blending beautifully as the tone
deepened to a spiraling dark vortex with a bright center.

the span of the surface. the rippling of the paper. the
waiting to dry. the willingness to endure the process.
breathing is how to get through this, the effort to grace
into effortlessness.

i could feel the strength of the presence as it was
culled, an energy emanating from the paper, a living
being. i wanted to laugh, i could feel her joy, her
delight; to become from the Nothing and form! a
magenta source vortex, joyous blackness, deep evolve.

she lives now, this formlessness. i am the movement
that created her, the spark, the center. i feel those
frequencies and dance the spiral as i push to black,
glide the curves with scissors to cut the triangles off
the corners of her universe and spin into the pulsing
darkness, dive into the single point of light to coax
those chakra serpents from their source and give them
new life.

spitting rainbows

source painting scrawlings: first day

i compose the colors on the palette with ease, because i was
so sure i knew what was going to be painted. fresh squeezey
bottles of paint, shaken up & spewed onto the plastic plate.

a tiger wanted to come, on a background of cobalt blue to
make the red orange POP! black & white stripes! RAWR-shida!
but it all turned beige somehow. maybe beige is what happens
when someone doesn't know how to paint; it's a mix of every
thing. my skin is this same color, portions of orange, lemon,
ivory & onyx. but i never looked to see if it also has violet in it,
or green or turquoise. it is so unified it seems to only be itself,
this beige that masks the elements that create it.

i enjoy blending colors, generating green where i can see the
yellow & the blue in their own vibration, and then where they
extend into eachother to create a song that vibrates a harmony
of their merged essences. and pink. this pink is labial. a singing
pink. she glistens, irrepressibly radiant! she is a pure color,
succulent saturation, especially when wet.

where the paint meets paper i lean in close to hear the brush
against the flat white surface. it is the subtle smooth sound
of moving silence.

painting feels like birthing: deep breaths, holding lower back
and rubbing hips. a powerful part of me emerges. REAL me.
tears on the verge when i hear the message: I WANT HER TO WAKE UP!
the outcome is inevitable but the space between where i am & getting
there seems monumental. Source burrowing through me, eating
away walls, structures. i can't hide. it aches.

i felt the damp heavy drop, my moontime arrived. and it looks so much
like the canvas where all the colors i put mixed to beige-brown with red
streaking this leaking of pigment what was left uncreated inside of me.
a womb abyss shows up in the painting. it has every color in it, spitting
rainbows. the colors communicate, expand, create. an opportunity to

begin again.

life, life, life!

this moon marooned me in a place where the multitude of my faults
came whispering their songs from hidden corridors, little black chunks
of coal coming out to pass through my consciousness:

"no one would miss me or even notice i'm gone, i don't matter"

"i don't do enough, i'm so vain, i'm frustrated i am not more: more successful, more loving, more helpful, doing more..."

thick tears and deeply i knew the voices weren't true,
but these places called out for the remedy. to be seen,
heard, touched. Exalted.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

equinox morning dance evolution: exchanged seasons, moved the spring deep into cells where the winter had already fainted. i danced those shadows weary, unlocked the gratitude with hips & fingers & neck & knees, praying with my body for the promises of the new year to be made manifest, to coax the energy to raise, to fill formless sketches of my imagination-desire into tangible reality. moved the blessings all around the Earth & through humankind with intention, that all of us feel awakened in the new strength & length of the days forward from this point, to thrust into the next quarter of 2011 illuminated with hope.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Sunday was a summer day, so hot on skin i drove with one hand, the other behind my head with the elbow pointing up. i dressed like i did in Hawai'i & got tanned thru the windshield. i bought raw food bars & dehydrated kale & raw crackers & medjool dates & almond butter to dip them in & blueberries & oranges to go lay in the park under a giant tree & bask in the space of nature.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

i feel the pulse in my womb, my body making so many requests
aching pink wanting to tide the spring with someone. and
i feel this, compassionately, as its agony wanes with hours.
i understand.

even she knows but goes through the motions with a slight hope
her wiles will be quenched, the tugs of biological destiny a force
not to go unnoticed. but we do not fight. we gaze into each other
and make agreements to create together, in harmony, to use this
powerful, delicious cosmic sensuality for the benefit of others,
somehow. to lay a path & let the intensity race through that channel,
singing life, life, life!

dyad

43 degree sunrise and me naked under velvet burgundy blanket, seeing the sun warming the day, shaking the dreams from my fingers & vaguely resistant to participate in a morning meditation sit i said i would attend. i dressed in form fitting black & tied hair back & went out the door to dive into the shyness i was feeling about this process.

...................................................................................................

(((there are many people not even God can save, oscillating in their own reality apart from the Whole. they have the lock & the key. the power of save is in their hands alone. sometimes this is me.)))

...................................................................................................

but who am i?

this was the question at contemplation meditation this morning. my fist time.

we were in the angel room: buzzing, very fresh & lively. the 4 of us sat in pairs. we each took turns of 5 minute duration to either ask the question & listen or to contemplate & communicate the interior experience.

...................................................................................................

i was scared to ask this question. i was afraid the answer that would come is that i am nothing. i fear this question taking from me some semblance of what i understand.

but i asked anyway, like a rescue dog diving into the rubble for scent scraps of the one beneath who seeks the fresh air and weightlessness. the rescue dog focused to find, to answer the need.i need to ask myself who am i, and send my awareness to rescue the who i am under the who i am not.

...................................................................................................

who am i?

asking the question makes me feel separate, as if the question itself divides.

a part of me has to leap up and look at everything, distancing itself from what it is in order to describe.

i am mostly space.

darkness.

folded into that darkness are the colors. like the deep ocean creatures that exude their colors so intensely, to travel through the medium speaking invisibly, to be felt.

who am i?

i felt two spirals in my throat. a place where intelligence & matter meet. the expression center. who i am & who i am not waging war of will - which will win? this contact erodes the creation spark of possibilities to impasse. there is no momentum. cooperation is the pathway introduced to again widen the range of what can be made. the war dance ceases as this new idea begins to brighten the thick twists their willfulness created.

who i am loves difficulty & pleasure, both allow it to grow, to chisel at the suppression of who i am not.

i am afraid i am nothing.

i can feel what a tree feels, merge into laughter when i hear it, feel others pain as my own

i am nothing but everything.

i feel life scraping, sculpting
who i am
the words, the listening, the doing, refining the expression.

i am a part of the momentum that moves the universe but not the momentum itself. aware that this consciousness that speaks is Itself; no other part of Eternity can express what I express, how I express it, at this moment.

i feel a spiraling opening my crown. i ask "who am i?" and i see a wolf dive down the spiraling vortex of skull, spine. the wolf moves through tailbone and into the heart of earth, out through Chinese soil and clear across the atmosphere to the other side of infinity.

who I am feels who You are and asks to be
flood flood flooded with You. who I am invents You
because i needed help shredding & tearing,
to be ruthless with untruth.