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.

gulping life

i daily greet the vein of water that lives nearby, my beloved
bayou. assessable & familiar yet with great mystery, unknown
contents & depths. she is like me. i come to her edge to welcome
the day, to thump the trees with a hello hand to the trunks, to listen
for the frequency that will guide from dreams to awake the way
between the two. i merge with the effortlessness of allowing
breath to flow, vision to open, body to express in movement.

every person is an ocean: a swell of motion gulping life
making contact/reflecting resultant waves, pulsations
cresting, falling, a moving integration of all that touches
us/all that we touch. a continuum of uniting.

what i love most about the sea is its yielding, an absolute
embodiment of surrender. water does not move itself
but shows movement, makes visible unseen forces that pull
and play upon the planet. it traces uneven earth beneath it,
the arc of arms paddling propeller-like, boat bottoms that cut
curly waves in sharp V's, fish that poke the surface & skydiving
pelicans that disturb the undulating rhythm, as the erratic patterns
radiate outward, folded back into the pulse of the water, dissolved
and restored to the colossal beat of the whole.

my little Buffalo Bayou flows as she does, and i am the ocean
next to her. we exchange in a language of no words our hearts
and hopes, moving downstream to our inevitable destinies.

named

Rashida

She is who I grow into,
I make the meaning.
unpack the syllables
and surf the sounds,
a succulent mystery.

to be born a new form
in a field of frequencies
i hear the one that calls,
the one to pull into reality

Rashida, Rightly Guided
a tone to replace the
“i don't know” song i sung
along despite having heard
the voice within, since the
beginning

aligning
with the resonance
a swirl above my crown
a transmission:

know you,
flow you,
go you

Rashida!

pear

tonight
i washed a green, ripe pear. i knew
instantly it was from Argentina, a
Bartlett. i imagined offering it to you,
hiding it, showing it again, inviting
you to eat it if you could retrieve it.
i put it to my mouth to taste, teeth
pushing into the silky grit of fruit.
it reminded me of you - sensitive
yet slightly rough - a restrained
sweetness that fills without over
powering, an experience relished
and delicately craved.

but just the thought of you is satisfying.

now that i've tasted you,
i feel my life will be forever beautiful.