New Blog.

go here.

VETE A VOTAR!!!!

GO VOTE!!!

and then join the huddled, hopeful masses in anticipation.

Nuevo.

I started another blog. I wasn't going to tell anyone or even allow anyone to see it until I hit the road again. But, really, I kind of already have. I'm on the Road. So, it's open now.

I realized the only reason I was waiting was because I wanted to be far away when everyone (or anyone) started reading it.
Scaredy-cat.

So, now begins the next phase, the new layer. Shedding old skin and...blogs, apparently.

It is what it is.

Love.

I Miss...

...Everyone.

don't get me wrong. there is still family here yet! but most, it seems, are on the road and incomunicado. sigh.

mi querida hermana, la Sarita, me escribio y me invito a te for two...in Argentina. I can just imagine it now...Sara and I in our finest rags, barefoot and dirty, sitting down for tea with exotic birds singing in the trees above us, while the mangoes, so heavy with sweet nectar, fall to the ground at our feet. (in my fantasy, there is also a waterfall lightly misting us, cooling us off in the afternoon heat with a rainbow reflected in it's spray...asking too much?)

sigh.

i feel like i'm at the starting gate, waiting for the gun to fire....wait for it....wait for it....and still waiting. man, it's killing me...slowly.
ok, maybe that's dramatic. most days i am grateful for exactly where i'm at. Life is good. truly.
somedays i'm just a little impatient. :)

really all i want to do is play guitar, write, read, and art all day long.

is that so much to ask?


Love-

the big it.

it drips off moments of subtle perfection

and pools around my dirty feet 

where they touch such beautiful earth

it hangs in the air 

like the last note suspended

of the last song that played

it hides in the cracks 

in the old buildings walls

it creeps like vines

and deepens like roots

it's shining out of everyone

through everything

despite it all

because of it all

celebrate.

you are here.

Oooouuuuuuuuucchh.

Ouch.Ouuuch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

Hmmm.

Haven't posted in a while.
been doing a lot of writing on paper- which has been nice, refreshing.
Sometimes I want to sit and type, and things seem to flow more freely that way. Other times, I need to move my hand across a page.
Don't know why.

Life has been really busy lately. So much happening, changing.

I have a new friend. :)
He's someone I work with. He is quite possibly one of the most hilarious people EVER. And insightful and wise in his own way. I actually write things down and take notes...so that I can recall exactly what he said later.

I was gonna post some of his sayings, but, I don't know if they'll translate onto a blog...there's a lot of gesturing and a fantastic (or should i say fabulous?) accent that you've just gotta hear.

Love that guy.

...Sorry, I feel like i just teased you! Next time you see me, ask me, and I'll do an impression for you. Hilarious.

OH.GOD.WHY.

Debates make me want to gnaw my fingernails to death.

John McCain is nothing new. Same old bullshit. Same old aggravating, truth-twisting, bullshit that will only take this country (and the rest of the world along with it) further into the mire that the current Administration has created. Unbelievable.

Please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE don't fuck this one up America. PLEASE.

A Handmade Life.

There are flecks of paint
still gracing my hands
from the creative flurry
that erupted out of me
a night ago.
there is dirt
beneath my fingernails.
a peacock feather earring adoring just one ear,
-just because-
i am in love
with what is unfolding before me
with guts and glory
and paperclips.
with hummingbirds and wasps
blackbirds and kitty purrs.
i.
am.
in.
love.

the most precious thing
is happening-
i am weaving.
i am sewing, knitting, growing.
i am pruning.
i am choosing.
i am creating a Life of my own,
by hand.
by sweat and blood and tears.
by laughter and singing.

by listening and asking myself,
first and only,

"What do YOU want?"

Eve Ensler on Sarah Palin.

Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for 'The Vagina Monologues', wrote the following about Sarah Palin:

Drill, Drill, Drill.

I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.

I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.

But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.
I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country chose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.
Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, 'It was a task from God.'

Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.

She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.

Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States. She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.

Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.
Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.

I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.

If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, 'Drill Drill Drill.' I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.

Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?

Eve Ensler September 5, 2008

Here It Is.

This is a website promoting the film.

It is truly incredible and worth checking out. Maybe YouTube has it for free or perhaps I'll just get it and pass it around.

Wow.

Forgiveness.

Watching an amazing documentary/film on forgiveness.

A few names...

Thich Nhat Hanh
Thomas Moore
Elie Weisel

Some issues...

Catholic/Protestant division
Attacks on an Amish Community
The Holocaust

Phew. Incredible. Will post title or link, etc. when one is mentioned...

-Paz

Where We Are Headed.

CHECK THIS SHIT OUT.

NO JOKE, people. No 'Effing Joke.

The "tactics" used by the Police at the Republican National Convention DO NOT CONFORM TO THE STANDARDS ADOPTED BY THE UNITED NATIONS.

AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL IS CONCERNED, INVOLVED, AND CALLING FOR IMPARTIAL INVESTIGATION.

These reports are right in line with the "tactics" and force shown on the border, at the protest I have talked about here before.

BELIEVE IT. THIS IS REAL.

THIS IS NOT WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE.


[-Thanks for the heads up, Jeremy.]

New.

Well I heard a story
about Alex Supertramp,
he dared to live a Dream he loved
and he died in the cold and damp,
We could tell his story-
tell it to scare our kids
into living lives of monotony
at the cost of being Free

Or we could tell his story,
Tell it in such a way-
It makes everyone a Believer
in the Magic of Today-
it makes everyone a Believer
in the Magic of Today.

My sister's name is Sara
she lives Life on the Road
she's never in one place for long-
it's sad to see her go,
but she's daring to live a Dream she loves
and that's more than most can say-
She makes all of us Believers
in the Magic of Today-
she makes all of us Believers
in the Magic of Today.

Every Mountain has a Valley
Every River curves and rolls-
With every step we take,
we walk the Great Unknown...
We walk the Great Unknown!

We all write a story
with the lives we choose to live-
the fears, the hopes, the Dreams we have
what we Take and what we Give-
For each one of us it's different,
if we go or if we stay-
but never stop believing
in the Magic of Today,
Never stop believing
in the Magic of Today.

From The ARC.

Concerning the summer blockbuster, Tropic Thunder.


"Stiller plays Tugg Speedman, a fading action star who earlier failed in his bid for an Oscar as 'Simple Jack,' a man with an intellectual disability. 'Simple Jack' is featured as a film-within-a-film, with Stiller sporting a classic institutional bowl haircut and bad teeth. The film within-a-film's promotional poster bears the subtitle "Once upon a time there was a retard." A promotional website for the Simple Jack movie, that has since been withdrawn, bears the slogan, "What he doesn't have in his head, he makes up for in his heart." A satirical plot synopsis quotes a critic as saying that Speedman's Jack was 'one of the most retarded performances in cinema history.'

Several staff members of The Arc, along with self-advocates and other representatives of the disability community, were able to preview the movie. It is clear that the film’s depiction of people with intellectual disabilities is derogatory and demeaning. The Arc of the United States, in coalition with other disability groups across the nation, is calling for a national dialogue on the language and treatment of people with intellectual disabilities. "

Dear America,

Please don't break my heart.

I really believed in you. In 2004, when election time came, I truly believed that you could never, in your right mind or pure conscience, vote Bush back in.
But you did. And it took me months to recover. My heart and mind, even my spirit, were so completely confounded, disbelieving, and wounded.

Now, here we are again, nearing an election.
and Barack Obama makes me hope so much that it hurts.
I have barely been able to watch as his campaign has unfolded. The convention, almost unbearable. The paper this morning, too.

America, this is our chance. People are believing again. The world can change, but first we must make the changes here that have been so long needed. The weight of the world hangs on the outcome of this election- people all over the globe are holding their breath, waiting to see if we will condemn every last person on the planet to another Administration that is out of touch and completely self-serving, or if we will take a leap of faith and dare to hope for a better future.

Please, America, don't break my heart.

With Love and Respect and even Hope,
Rachell

Nail On The Head.

"The nature of negative complexes and cultures is to pounce upon any discrepancy between the consensus about what is acceptable behavior and the indiviual's differing impulse. Just as some people go mad to see a single leaf upon their walkway, negative judgement draws out its saws to amputate any member that does not conform.

...For a wild child born into a rigid community, the usual outcome is to experience the ignominy of being shunned. Shunning treats the victim as if she does not exist. It withdraws spiritual concern, love, and other pyschic necessities from that person. The idea is to force her to conform, or else to kill her spiritually and/or to drive her from the village to languish and die in the outback.

If a woman is shunned, it is almost always because she has done something or is about to do something in the wildish range, oftentimes something as simple as expressing a slightly different belief or wearing an unapproved color--small, small things as well as large ones. It must be remembered that an oppressed woman not so much refuses to fit as she cannot fit without also dying."

(241).

What's Been Going On With Me Lately...

From Women Who Run With the Wolves...


"The shadow, also, however, can contain the divine, the luscious, beautiful, and powerful aspects of personhood. For women especially, the shadow almost always contains very fine aspects of being that are forbidden or given little support by her culture. At the bottom of the well in the psyches of too many women lies the visionary creator, the astute truth-teller, the far-seer, the one who can speak well of herself without denigration, who can face herself without cringing, who works to perfect her craft. The positive impulses in shadow for women in our culture most often revolve around permission for the creation of a handmade life.

These discarded, devalued, and "unacceptable" aspects of soul and self do not just lie there in the dark, but rather conspire about how and when they shall make a break for freedom. They burble down there in the unconscious, they seethe, they boil, till one day, no matter how well the lid over them is sealed, they explode outward and upward in an unchanneled torrent and with a will of their own.
Then it is, as they say in the backwoods, like trying to put ten pounds of mud back into a five-pound sack. What has erupted from shadow is hard to cap once it has been detonated. Though it would have been far better to have found an integral way to consciously live out one's joy in the creative spirit than to have buried it at all, sometimes a woman is pushed to the wall, and this is the outcome.

The shadow life occurs when writers, painters, dancers, mothers, seekers, mystics, students, or journeywomen stop writing, painting, dancing, mothering, looking, peering, learning, practicing. They might stop because whatever they just spent long with did not come out the way they had hoped, or did not recieve the recognition it deserved, or countless other reasons. When the maker stops for whatever reason, the energy that naturally flows to her is diverted underground, where it surfaces whenever and wherever it can. Because a woman feels she cannot in daylight go full-bore at whatever it is she wants, she begins to lead a strange double life, pretending one thing in daylight hours, acting another way when she gets a chance.
When a woman pretends to press her life down into a nice tidy little package, all she accomplishes is spring-loading all her vital energy down into shadow. "Fine, I'm fine," such a woman says. We look at her across the room or in the mirror. We know she is not fine. Then one day, we hear she has taken up with a piccolo player and has run off to Tippicanoe to be a pool hall queen. And we wonder what happened, because we know she hates piccolo players and always wanted to live on Orcas Island, not on Tippicanoe, and she never before mentioned anything about pool halls.

Like Hedda Gabler in Henrik Ibsen's play, the wildish woman can pretend to live "an ordinary life" while gritting her teeth, but there is always a price to pay. Hedda sneaks a passionate and dangerous life, playing games with an ex-lover and with Death. Outwardly, she pretends to be content wearing bonnets and listening to her dry husband cavil about his dusty life. A woman can be outwardly polite and even cynical, but inwardly hemorrhaging.

Or, like Janis Joplin, a woman can try to comply until she can't stand it any longer, and then her creative nature, corroded and sickened by being forced into the shadow, erupts violently to rebel against the tenets of "breeding" in reckless ways that disregard one's gifts and one's very life.
You can call it anything you like, but sneaking a life because the real one is not given room enough to thrive is hard on women's vitality. Captured and starved women sneak all kinds of things: they sneak unsanctioned books and music, they sneak friendships, sexual feeling, religious affiliation. They sneak furtive thinking, dreams of revolution. They sneak time away from their mates and families. They sneak a treasure into the house. They sneak their writing time, their thinking time, their soul-time. They sneak a spirit into the bedroom, a poem before work, they sneak a skip or an embrace when no one's looking.

To detour off this polarized path, a woman has to surrender the pretense. Sneaking a counterfeit soul-life never works. It always blows out the sidewall when you're least expecting it. Then it's misery all around. It's better to get up, stand up, no matter how homemade your platform, and live the most you can, the best you can, and forgo sneaking the counterfeits. Hold out for what has real meaning and health for you.

...It is difficult to sneak little shreds of life this way but women do it every day. When a woman feels compelled to sneak life, she is in minimal subsitence mode. She sneaks life away from the hearing of "them," whoever the them is in her life. She acts disinterested and calm on the surface, but whenever there is a crack of light, her starved self leaps out, runs for the nearest life form, lights up, kicks back, charges madly, dances herself silly, exhausts herself, then tries to creep back to the black cell before anyone notices she is gone.

Women with poor marriages do this. Women made to feel inferior do this. Women filled with shame, women fearing punishment, ridicule, or humiliation do this. Instinct-injured women do this. Sneaking is good for a captured woman only if she sneaks the right thing, only if that thing leads to her liberation. In essence, sneaking good and filling and brave pieces of life causes the soul to be even more determined that the sneaking stop, and that it be free to lead life out in the open as it sees fit.

While we could rightfully be proud of the soul brave enough to try to sneak a something, an anything, under such drought conditions, the fact remains that that alone cannot be the sole issue. A whole psychology has to include not only body, mind, and spirit, but also, equally, culture and environ. And in this light, it must be asked at each level how it came to be that any individual woman feels she has to cringe, flinch, grovel, and plead for a life that is her own to begin with."

(pages 236-240.)

Reflecting.

Last night I was priviledged to be a part of a real-life Dream unfolding.

A sister-friend of mine is writing a book, a collection of stories of her Life experiences on the Road. It is incredible. Magic. Brimming and overflowing with Light and the beauty of a believing heart who has Surrendered.
In order to fund a printed version of her book, she is recording her stories onto CD, in order to raise the funds she needs, and to begin to share her stories with the world.

She asked me to read and sing them for the recording.

I am so deeply honored to be a part of this project, which is something I believe in with all of my heart. And it was one of the most precious experiences of my whole Life, to sit around a fire, in the company of friends and family who love and support her as well, and to experience her stories and lessons through reading them aloud.

Oh man.

I.....

hate.......

FAX MACHINES!!!!!!!!!!!

when i say this in my head-(i can't very well scream it out in the library can i??) it sounds like how it might sound if I were standing in a huge cavern...it echos loudly and rumbles angrily.

now that you know how the acoustics in my head sound- (cavernous?!) i will humbly apologize for being a wing-nut-walking-the-edge-on-a-friday-afternoon-stuck-in-an-office-with-no-real-light-or-air, and bid you adeiu.

Adeiu.

Que Verguenza.

As i sit typing this, my cat has jumped onto the desk and decided to display herself, in all her feline glory, in front of the computer screen. Now that she's the center of attention, she stretches and yawns and looks at me, as if to ask, "So, whatcha doin'?"

Shameless.

Sometimes i wish i could write everything. Every thought, every feeling, every confusion, everything. Just to get it out of my head.

Sigh.

...working on a new song. that's exciting.

"you each time"

the answer to each moment must be yes

and the question: can you live with that?

becomes the test

so you weigh it against the aching in your chest

and that secretly relenting emptiness

so my heart finally broke

it was so long bent

and it broke in three places

when it finally went

and you talk it out and you talk it down

but your eyes are not listening

and my ears are running around

looking for another song to sing

but it is you each time-

it is you.

Grumpa, Grumpa.

(...una hermana mia made up that word because "grumpy" doesn't translate well into Spanish. Saying "Grumpa-grumpa" in a grouchy voice with a squished-up face is much more satisfying than the actual word en espanol. Jaja! )


I'm Grumpy. It's true. I'll blame it on the weather. (the East Bay is completely overcast and cold today....Hello? August??)

Last night, I decorated a big manila envelope into which I put all the paperwork I would need today. I hate paperwork and "to-do" lists and organization in general...which could pose a problem in the coming months seeing as those are the very skills needed to interact with the grown-up world.

My solution? Integrate all the creative, fun stuff i love and am naturally good at to help balance all these boring, dry tasks that are hard for me. It just may keep me afloat...

So, I spent close to an hour decorating this envelope and writing inspiring qoutes on it. It was very fun and it helped a lot this morning. I wrote a big "GOOD MORNING!" on the top so i would see it as soon as I opened my grouchy little eyes.

Now only if it could greet me with a cup of coffee.....

"If not now, when?"

SOLA.

i feel like i'm disappearing
into the many roles
that so many demand of me
i feel like i am losing substance
losing something
essential,
my vibrancy has been turned down
like the volume on a stereo
and my voice is faltering
a shadow of my self
waits on the wall to my right
she's asking me to run
asking me to fly
asking me to shed everyone
and leave in the middle of the night
but
shadows can't be trusted
(they won't even show their face to the light)
they disappear as quickly as they come
maybe that's why
her voice is so tempting
she knows my fight-or-flight
tendencies
like her own
and i don't want to live a shadow's life
but
the distance between thriving
and surviving
is growing
widening
and i'm stuck out on some rocky crag
in the middle
of the rift.

why does life here always feel like i am dividing myself into parts????

who am i staying here for?
not me,
that's for damn sure.

i stay because i feel guilty.
i stay because i think i should feel more "responsible".
i stay because i fear going.

it's a little disheartening to realize
that your anchor isn't where you left it-
i have tried to forge so many people
into something heavy to hold me here
but no one wants to be an anchor
they've all got their own ships their sailing
so,
all that is left is
Me.

Me
who has moved over 8 times in the last 4 years,
who has left family and friends in different cities, different states, different countries.
who hears the wind howling at night and longs to follow.

Me
who likes security and safety,
who thinks in terms of timelines,
who wants to be accepted and loved and forgiven
for leaving in the first place.


Me
who fears to go.

Me
who fears to stay.

Weird.

can't i just make it beautiful?

can't i just show it just so....
that you'll do what i want you to?
ha!
there comes that control again-
a sneaky little thing
like a weed-
sprouts quietly,
and then chokes everything.

sometimes
i can't tell
the best from the worst of me.

and i feel like a child
who needs a hand to hold,
like i'm standing in front
of a funhouse mirror
bearing my soul-

sore and twisted around
looking back on myself
with compassionless eyes
and a sour mouth,
aching and bruised
though i can't tell
if they're new
or still bleeding
internally
from
days long past.

-sigh-
it's weird to be back.

How I Feel Tonight.

friend of mine,

how i long to see you free-
to see you walking your own path,
singing your own song,
in your own voice.

i hear you praising the rollercoaster
that is now your life
and i think,
rollercoasters are extreme and
the constant crashing
and soaring heights
seem less and less
like cycles
and more like
power struggles.

friend of mine,

as your body bleeds
asking for your attention-
howling for your most tender care-
i see you sniffing the wind
chasing some elusive scent
of a man who has never been there,
and off you go-
running after his shadow again
the lingering scent
and the sense
that yes, he has just passed by here
are not enough to keep you warm.
not enough to fill you.
not enough to free you.

and the trail that he leaves
will not lead you
back to yourself.
only further away.

From a little before the New Year....

i climb the
winding staircase
to the inner room-
isolated, silenced,
She waits for me there.
like a princess from a
hundred different fairytales,
locked in the highest tower
behind insurmountable castle walls-

but She is different.

She is the princess of all
things Wild-
of the brush
the bramble
the thorns
of the raging river's swell,
her Mystery is shadow, night-
her majesty, the raven's wing
the Moonlight-
and She has long been howling
behind precipice and stone
long been waiting for my
Loba ears to grow-
and recognize Her voice.

growing restlessness and impatience
signals
some new initiation
as i peer
through the window
into this room
that is my heart.

oh anais!

rapture
pure bliss
all these poems
dancing
in my head
in my heart
splattering
onto the page
and with a
melody
behind them
playing sweetly
melting my
pain
into a puddle
that i splash in
like a child

the magic of music
i believe
is its ability
to show us
all the way
down to the soul-
that we
are not
alone.

Speechless

You
Holy Mother
Baba Yaga
She Who Hears the Cries of the World-
Skeleton Woman
Kali
Abuela

You who know my heart
my body
my soul
You who give Life, give Death, and give Life again
I am cradled
in your voluptous flesh,
a child of
your Womb-

from there have I come,
and to there I will return.

Over and over.

and i know
my mind is made of matter
but i need to know
exactly
what is the matter
at it's core,
because my heart
is just a muscle-
yes,
and simply put,

it's sore.

I Want to Cry.

Big heaving sobs. The kind of cry that leaves you with an aching head, puffy red eyes, and a chest cavity that feels just a little bit lighter.

Life is such a beautiful teacher, but sometimes I just need an effing break. And to be perfectly honest, there are some lessons I don't want to learn, dammit. I don't. They're big and they're scary and I don't know if I can handle it.

Sometimes I feel so deeply conflicted and what I desire always seems to fall on two extreme sides of the same spectrum simultaneously. I am a walking duality, constantly.

And then there's the issue of asking of myself what I would ask of others. I want freedom, but I don't want to give it. I want to not be judged, and yet I judge. And the list goes on and on. No joke.

Days like today don't negate or invalidate those Magical ones, when everything is beautiful and I have understanding. In fact, I know those days couldn't exist without days like this one, and vice-versa.

But man, it's hard not to run away.

I have an overbearing and too-well-fed 'Fight or Flight' mechanism in me--and I feel like I don't even know what my other options are. I'm looking for them. I need them desperately...cause this is exhausting.

Unexpected.

somedays 

are like that

-Magic-

full of twists and 

turning corners

surprises just waiting

around doorways,

delight hiding

in the cracks and crevices

of the wreckage of

how it was

'supposed to go'-

days like today

make me Believe.

in the goodness of people

in Providence

in synchronistic moments

days like today

help me to see-hear-taste-touch

the very fiber of existence

while it is

being woven

into a tapestry of Life,

whose beauty i can 

barely contain.

HARTA

Maybe yo necessito escribir en una lengua diferente para espresar lo que esta pasando en mi vida, en mi corazon, en mi alma.  

Maybe tengo que dejar esta manera de expression.

Maybe nunca quiero comunicarme con nadie de mi pasado.  Just Maybe.

Yo no se lo mejor en este momento, pero yo se que estoy HARTA con cada persona que escriba aqui quien quiere defender un religion, una dogma, y no tiene el espacio para permitar una persona tener su opinion y escribir en cada parte de su Journey.

Paz Ya'll.

GET FREE.

Radical.

i am tired of driving
home
to a hot empty apartment
whose silences
echo
in my four-chambered
heart.
for me
there is no home-coming
except to that secret place-
the space
i hold
for myself.

an apartment is just
four walls-
and with no one
inside them
but me,
it has become
a pleasant
luxury.


"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet [God] feeds them.
And why do you worry about clothes? See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?"

...that's in Matthew 6, along with "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth..."



(trying not to hurl myself headlong into a raging rant about the hypocracy and direct confliction i see in American Christianity.....oh, it hurts... compassion Rachell, compassion. phew.)

Why I Choose to Shave

- There is this invigorating energy rush to your head- a clarity of vision that comes. It feels like facing the world lighter, freer, and unobstructed.

- Men stop whistling, hooting, staring, drooling, and acting like you're not a sentient human being. In fact, the only attraction/attention I get from any man when shaven is deeply respectful, almost honoring.

- It makes me look at myself, hard. It helps me to see within myself where I am still buying into ridiculous, superficial ideas about beauty; the dynamics in my relationship to other women, men, and myself are illuminated in such a way that I can see unhealth where it lies.

- It feels good, dammit.




It's also a little like becoming a walking social experiment. It is such a trip to see how people respond to you. Good and bad.
It reveals so much about who they are and what is important to them.

Also, it is very empowering, especially this time around. I feel bold, full of strength and courage. A little fierce. (Necessary at times.)
I feel more my own than I ever have, Ever.
And, I feel Beautiful.




Love.

Hey!

I have become one of those people that never writes anything new on their blog.
How did that happen?
...What have i become??

Lack of internet and an unreliable computer will do that to you , I suppose. Oh well. :)

I've just recently returned from a short stint in New Mexico with Tommy. When i say short, i mean really, really, really short. 5 days. which is really just one big heart-tease, in more than one way.
And you really shouldn't tease your heart.
It's not a very nice thing to do.

I've been moving slower. Which is good. Taos reminded me of that for sure- Life doesn't have to race at breakneck speed all the time. Sometimes, living here, i feel crazy because i will spend a morning alone, in my apartment, moving at my natural (slower) speed-- and when i step outside, everything and everyone is moving so fast it makes me dizzy.

Taos reminded me that i'm not crazy. That it's you people who are the crazy ones.


I joke. just a friendly little joke....



....you rushing fiends.


working on a new song. pretty chords, good pattern, just can't seem to decide what it's about. I've got three different verses almost completed- but they're about very different things and i'm having a hard time deciding between them. i think it's because i haven't been writing that much (obviously) and so know that my pen is finally hitting the page, everything's trying to come out at once.


Anyway Folks, I'll try to post more often and perhaps be a little more interesting. ;)
Paz y Amor a todos.

Great song, Trina.

Thank you.
I forgot how much Tom Waits blows my mind. he's amazing.


Dont go to church on sunday
Dont get on my knees to pray
Dont memorize the books of the bible
I got my own special way
Bit I know jesus loves me
Maybe just a little bit more

I fall on my knees every sunday
At zerelda lees candy store

Well its got to be a chocolate jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate jesus
Keep me satisfied

Well I dont want no anna zabba
Dont want no almond joy
There aint nothing better
Suitable for this boy
Well its the only thing
That can pick me up
Better than a cup of gold
See only a chocolate jesus
Can satisfy my soul

When the weather gets rough
And its whiskey in the shade
Its best to wrap your savior
Up in cellophane
He flows like the big muddy
But thats ok
Pour him over ice cream
For a nice parfait

Well its got to be a chocolate jesus
Good enough for me
Got to be a chocolate jesus
Good enough for me
Well its got to be a chocolate jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate jesus
Keep me satisfied.


also check out "Way Down in the Hole" by him.

old song.

from my childhood. from some muppets movie, i think. Jaja! how strange- such an unlikely source of wisdom. :)


when the Spirit says move,
you gotta move.

when the Spirit says sing,
you gotta sing.

when the Spirit says Dance!
you gotta dance
when the Spirit says Dance!
you gotta dance,
when the Spirit says dance
you gotta dance, oh lord-
when the Spirit says Dance!
you gotta dance.

Teachers.

"She's So Heavy..."

can you hear those crazy Beatles harmonizing in your head? i can.


i have been so heavy lately. ugh.
like quicksand-living. that's as close as i can come to describing it accurately.
like carrying boulders while your feet start sinking into the ground. every step you try to take to climb out of it, or at least to stay-ground level, only creates the suction that pulls you in deeper.

phew. it's heavy just writing about it.

it's times like those that i need to be more still, i think. to sit quietly, to wait it out- let it pass over me. instead of identifying with it, and possibly even selfishly indulging a bit...like a pig rolling in it's pen-- yes, it may be satisfying, but it's still mud and shit that you're indulging in.

i was thinking back to 'Tuesdays with Morrie', a book i read in one of John's Humanity classes. in it Morrie explains his understanding of the pratice of "detachment." he talks about not being able to let go and release emotions, even anger and sadness, until one has felt them fully.
i cannot let go of sadness if i have denied it's existence by refusing to feel it.

makes sense to me.

i went to the forest the other day. not even 5 minutes in, i could feel my soul quieting. breathing. remembering.

i need to go there as often as possible, i really do. it's so close to mi casita, it's ridiculous not to. It helps me so much. i have been feeling more connected to the forest than i have to the ocean, if that's possible. i think it's the trees.

i had this thought, while sitting on the forest floor, looking up at the Redwoods towering over me;

the trees are our elders.

and it's true- probably every tree in that forest is at the very least half a century older than i am. they have seen so much change- more than i can imagine.

and they dance.

you should see them- when the wind moves through them, at the top, they sway back and forth. more than you would think physically possible. it is so beautiful.
it reminds me of the ani lyric "what doesn't bend, breaks."
it helps me so much to watch those trees dance like that- with such grace. the wind, a mighty force, is pushing and pulling on them- if they were to resist it's movements they would break and die. but because they don't, because they are able to bend, to give, to surrender to the movement of the wind- they live on. they grow. they dance.

if only i were as wise as those trees.

Writing.

"It's funny the things you remember, in retrospect.
The bits of conversation, the intensity of emotions of a single moment, the exchanges and relations. Things that at the time, rustled in your chest, whispering significance. Things that at the time, you were unable to place in the order of things, within the context of your Story.

As I look back over the last five years of my life, and back even further still, I can see a thread, thin and almost indistinguishable at times, strong and taut at others. I wonder sometimes how those moments seem to know their own importance and embed themselves in our memories.
I am searching for this thread, finding the places where it is the strongest and most clear in order to trace it back through the thickets and brush, through the times and places in my Life where it was weak and faltering and so much harder to see. I am searching for the thread of my Story, in order to understand myself. In order to flesh out the bones and weave this thread into a tapestry of Life. Of My Life.

When we have sought and gained understanding of our own thread, our own Story we can perhaps better understand our place in the World, in the Weaving of Stories and find the ground to stand on in order to share those stories to mend tears and bridge divisions, to create healing and more Life.
Always more Life.

And so, i have found myself here. In the midst of a gut-wrenching, jaw-aching, tear-streaming struggle. A struggle of deep gratitude and joy- for I am laying out the groundwork of my Life, working out Who I Am and what it is I Am here for. "

...that's a bit of writing from awhile back. good to re-read, possibly expand upon. For this latest class I've been taking I had to write a spiritual autobiography. I was thinking about posting it.

Raincheck.

baby, you're right as rain
about the benefits,
but you might be wrong
about the cost-
and it feeds my heart
that you came
looking for me,
but i'm thinking i need to stay lost.

and i know my mind is made of matter
but i need to know exactly
what is the matter at it's core,
because my heart
is just a muscle-
yes, and simply put,
it's sore.

so nevermind about the benefits
nevermind about the costs
that don't change the basic premises
in which i am surely lost.


-ani.

Today.

Eyes brimming
vision swimming with a
hundred thousand
faces
i've been camping
on the border-line
of a meltdown
for hours now,

'Hello, how are you?'
'Oh, just fine.'

rehearsed responses
stale speech
with little weight
and no
meaning,
we bounce off
each other's bumpers
like those
silly
bumping cars-

driving in circles,
crashing head-on
with strangers,
no
destination
that
we
know
of.


someone
once told me
that
'breakdowns lead to breakthroughs'
but
i've been
breaking down
every couple'adays
now
and i'm beginning to wonder,
Where exactly
is
through?


all my lines are
curvy,
waxing and waning-
i move like the
Earth,
surely but slowly-
and i wonder
if She
struggles with
boundaries
the same way that
i do-
cause we've walked all over
Her,
giving no thanks thats
due her
glorious body-

and to the surface of
my
skin-like crust
rise bruises
like continents-
swimming
in the oceans
of my
discontent,

and i am trying.
i
am
trying.

WILLING TO FIGHT.

THE WINDOWS OF MY SOUL

ARE MADE OF ONE WAY GLASS

DON'T BOTHER LOOKING INTO MY EYES

IF THERE'S SOMETHING YOU WANT TO KNOW

JUST ASK

I GOTTA DEAD-BOLT STROLL AND

WHERE I'M GOING IS CLEAR

I WON'T WAIT FOR YOU TO WONDER

I'LL JUST TELL YOU WHY I AM HERE

CAUSE I KNOW THE BIGGEST CRIME

IS TO JUST THROW UP YOUR HANDS

AND SAY THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ME

I JUST WANT TO LIVE AS COMFORTABLY AS I CAN

YOU GOTTA LOOK OUTSIDE YOUR EYES

YOU GOTTA THINK OUTSIDE YOUR BRAIN

YOU GOTTA WALK OUTSIDE YOUR LIFE

TO WHERE THE NEIGHBORHOOD 

CHANGES

TELL ME WHO IS YOUR BOOGEY-MAN?

THAT'S WHO I WILL BE

YOU DON'T HAVE TO LIKE ME FOR WHO I AM

BUT WE'LL SEE WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF

BY WHAT YOU MAKE OF ME

I THINK IT'S ABSURD

THAT YOU THINK I AM A DERELICT DAUGHTER

YOU KNOW I FIGHT FIRE WITH WORDS

WORDS ARE HOTTER THAN FLAME

WORDS ARE WETTER THAN WATER

I GOT FRIENDS ALL OVER THIS COUNTRY

I GOT FRIENDS IN OTHER COUNTRIES TOO

I GOT FRIENDS I HAVEN'T MET YET

I GOT FRIENDS I NEVER KNEW

I GOT LOVERS WHOSE EYES 

I'VE ONLY SEEN AT A GLANCE

I GOT STRANGERS FOR GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN

I GOT STRANGERS FOR ANCESTORS

I WAS A LONG TIME COMING-

I'LL BE A LONG TIME GONE

YOU GOT YOUR WHOLE LIFE

TO DO SOMETHING

AND THAT'S NOT VERY LONG

WHY DON'T YOU GIVE ME A CALL

WHEN YOU DECIDE YOU'RE 

WILLING TO FIGHT-

FOR WHAT YOU THINK IS REAL

FOR WHAT YOU THINK IS RIGHT.

-ANI

O Sensitive Heart.

co-dependent for the world-
i am
feeling
every
little
thing
so,
so
deeply.

i see the pain in other people's eyes
and the place between
my
sternum and spine
aches
with it.

Thoughts on a Friday Afternoon.

It's funny looking back on who you have been in different periods of your life.
Who you were at that moment, and also the thread that you can trace back that allows you to recognize a little bit of who you are now, in the person you were then.

I look back at the people I was with at one time or another, and I can see myself attracted to different people for different reasons at different times...based upon what was growing in me. Based upon what new self-knowledge I was gaining. I would never be with any of those people now, because I have grown to know myself more, and can see the poor match.

I think marrying someone before you know yourself is the worst decision you can make. I worry for all these young religious folks, who are getting married younger and younger...and for what? What's the friggin' rush??

(Just a guess, but i think the "abstinence" principle might have something to do with it.)

I no longer understand the rush to bind your life to someone else's- for the rest of your life.
And I say this as someone who wants to have a Life Partner that I grow old with. Living life together and growing old together is a powerful kind of Intimacy that I look forward to creating with someone, over years and years of laughter, growth, trials, and ever-deepening love.

Just get to know yourself first, kids. That's all I'm saying.

Surrender.

'to be crucified with Christ'
is what the
Sioux
were doing
before they had ever heard
that name.

today
i remember
that this, too,
is what Life is about-

how easily i forget.


Great Spirit,
thank you for your Goodness
your Kindness
your Tenderness.

Help me to walk in Humility.

Help me to remember what it means to Surrender.

On a Much Much Worse Note.

"Wish one of them would come to my house. They'd get a [such and such] gun to the head. I'd make them do a break dance they ain't never seen before."

Somebody* (whom i would like to punch squarely in the nose, but am very consciously and arduously trying to find compassion for) said this at Mon Cafe today.

And that's a direct quote.

The topic of conversation? The recent robberies in the area.



By far the most blatantly RACIST shit i have heard in a long time.
Not to mention so very, VERY ugly.

More Events of Note.

You haven't really lived in a place, until you have had your own personal get-down-dance party in it.
I am happy to say that such an event occurred in a certain Theater Apartment last night.

To Regina Spektor's "On the Radio."

Thank you, Regina. Thank you.

hon.es.ty

Dictionary.com tells me-

1. the quality or fact of being honest; uprightness and fairness.
2. truthfulness, sincerity, or frankness.
3. freedom from deceit or fraud.


American Heritage Dictionary-

1. The quality or condition of being honest; integrity.
2. Truthfulness; sincerity: in all honesty.



"Honesty is a good thing, but it is not profitable to its possessor unless it is kept under control." -Don Marquis (1878-1937)

"Acting is all about honesty. If you can fake that, you've got it made."
-George Burns (1896-1996)

"We must make the world honest before we can honestly say to our children that honesty is the best policy."
-George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)


“Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.”
-William Shakespeare ( 1564-1616)

“If you truly want honesty, don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to.”
-Proverb

"Honesty is the cruelest game of all, because not only can you hurt someone- and hurt them to the bone- you can feel self-righteous about it at the same time."
-Dave Von Ronk

"He who is passionate and hasty, is generally honest; it is your cool dissembling hypocrite, of whom you should beware."
-Unknown

"The best measure of a man's honesty isn't his income tax return. It's the zero adjust on his bathroom scale."
-Arthur C Clarke (1917-?)

"Honest people are easily deceived."
-Unknown

"Honesty is for the most part less profitable than dishonesty."
-Plato

"A true friend will tell you the truth to your face- not behind your back."
-Sasha Azevedo

"How painful are honest words!"
-Job 6:25

"An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips."
-Proverbs 24:26


So, what is it? A kiss on the lips? Or pain and cruelty?
Does a true friend say it to your face? Or do they shutup and sit tight and wait for you to learn your own lesson?
What is more profitable? To tell the truth or refrain? Either way, people are hurt. Which one hurts less and fewer people?

It is when we are lying to ourselves that we react violently to the truth being spoken.

How do we know when to speak and when not to?

If we choose to speak, we can only hope to be heard.

and If we choose to remain silent?

I don't know.

Pure Brilliance.

"I don't know kara-te, but i know kuh-raaazy!"

-James Brown

Events of Note

So, living alone.

Very fun, actually. it's funny the little conversations we have with ourselves, the ones we aren't even aware of most of the time.

First Event of Note: Creative Surge.
I have been super creative. I made this collage for my sister, something i have been meaning to do for a long time. And there is so much more inspiration and ideas just waiting to be birthed!

Second: Pampering- Without Apology!
So, last night I was up doing my thing, when i had the hankering for avocado and hummus with sharp cheddar on black bread toast. And a glass of wine. And dark chocolate. The funny little conversation went something like this-
'But I can't eat that- it's so late! And that's so...so, Luxurious.'
'True, very true. But what's wrong with that??'
'Yeah, what's wrong with that? I'll do it!'

And so, i did. and it was delicious. and it made me feel good. i think we should be good to ourselves like that more and indulge a little in the simplicities that make us feel good.

Also, I've been playing this game with myself. The first time I took a shower at my new place I happened to look up at the shower head to see the acronym, RSA. I have no idea what that actually stands for, but the game I've been playing is this:

When I'm in the shower I think of possible definitions of the acronym and make little declarations in my head, such as-

"Rachell Stands Alone!"
and
"Rachell Secures Autonomy!"

for those of you who might be worried about me, i assure you, this isn't the lonely psychobabble of a woman gone mad,
but rather the inner dialogue of a woman who is enjoying her own company.

The Process of Moving...

as i move through the house,

removing my things

it feels as if i am removing myself

as well,

little by little

gathering myself

back into my arms.

and my boxes are titled

by the content,

full of things

written in coded text

like so many memories

packed up and waiting

for my

next

adventure.

the scratches and chips

on my furniture

tell a history

of quick escapes

and near misses,

of searching

and searching

and searching

for home.

i look at all my shit

fondly,

and remember

people and places,

surprises

excitement

lessons

sorrow and

delight

i re-member myself

from the stories

that they tell.

and i think i'm beginning to like

all that is

bittersweet,

the sweet makes the bitter thicker-

wrapped around my tongue

it tastes like being alive,

while the bitter makes the sweet

just that much richer-

and i savor each moment

here

with you.

Thoughts Today.

If generosity is not extended to everyone, it is not true generosity.

If compassion is not extended to everyone, it is not true compassion.

In no way do i claim to embody the highest understanding of generosity or compassion.

but i think this is what we are here for.   

What is Love if not a spirit of generosity and a deep compassion towards all creatures?

What are we doing here if it is not learning how to Love?

this idea that life is a burden to bear, something to endure, until we die and finally can be happy and have peace is missing it completely.   

We are in the joyous bliss of creation, it's glory permeating everything around us, seeping into every cell.  

We are partaking in the wondrous dance of the cosmos, universe beyond universe beyond our understanding. 

We are God expressing and experiencing, Himself.

(Herself, Itself--that doesn't matter either.)

We have the sacred opportunity to learn how to Love each other, and in doing so, God.

This Time, Last Year.

What a gorgeous day it has been.
Woke up with some yoga and qigong stretches and fed my body a delicious home-made smoothie. Did some light organizational stuff around the house and then went for a barefoot walk in the LIFE-GIVING, INCREDIBLE sunshine that graced us with its presence today.
Ate lunch at this funky little falafel shack with my Love and then walked around Park St. for awhile, doing nothing in particular.
Beautiful, just beautiful.

I was thinking about the time of year we find ourselves in, as winter is giving way to spring; death in to life. And with Good Friday yesterday (also the Full Moon and Spring Equinox) and Easter tomorrow, I thought it might be nice to repost my entry from last year.

here goes.


"Thinking about Easter, and it's deeper symbolic meanings...From darkness into Light, from death into Life. A rebirth of sorts. At least for those of us living, here, now. Thinking about the ways in which i want to live my life and the way i want to love. Choosing not to despair, not because there is no sorrow, but because this Life is precious and beautiful and sacred.
Saturday, the day inbetween, is always the darkest. Like those last few hours before morning.
But the light always comes, Life always comes. I am seeing this acted out in nature all around me, the snow is melting, the buds on the trees have begun to open. When i open my eyes in the morning, the birds are outside singing songs of the Spring to come.
We are never in darkness forever.

I thank God this day for all of Creation, for every living thing, for each person i encounter, know, love. And those whom i haven't met, and might not ever. Living at the hostel, i meet people from all walks of Life, every background imaginable, every path taken unique. And it is BEAUTIFUL. breaktakingly so. We are a pathwork quilt of Humanity- all living together and connecting with each other, helping each other. I am continually amazed at how fragile people are- how delicate and tender we all are underneath, inside. It has deepened my respect for people and their experiences. We can learn from everyone we interact with, if we see them through eyes of humility. if we allow them to teach us.

And today especially, i think about God's mercy and lovingkindness. And i think that God, outside of all our constructed boxes, is Eternal and perfect Compassion.
And that we have no idea what that really means.

I condemn no one. I have no place.
Rather, i try to greet every human being as the exquisite creation that they are. And see where God's scuplting fingers left imprints in the clay.

This inbetween Saturday,
May you be Blessed
to know sorrow,
so that when the Joy comes
you will recognize it
and leap into it's arms.

May you be Blessed
to know darkness,
so that when the dawn
peeks it's head over
the last few remaining stars,
you will dance
with anticipation
and utter abandonment
into the Light of morning.

May you be Blessed
to know winter,
it harsh cold
and heavy silence,
it's frost on your heart-
so that,
when the buds of new growth
sprout
you will not complain
of the pain of transformation,
but instead sing out
with newfound Joy and gratitude-
as all the frost melts away
and you find yourself
to be more
Alive
than ever before.

On this Saturday inBetween,
May you be Blessed."

Moved to Tears.

Barack Obama's speech in Philadelphia.

Gratitude and Inspiration.

i can hear it humming

something good is on its way

i feel a pulse in my chest

my heart pumping out the rhythms

of something ancient

waking up

in me

and when the woman spoke tonight

of circles and centers

something in me smiled

in recognition

at the light burning in her eyes

the joy that emanated from her being

i know that light

it glows

warm

like a candle's flame

like the embers

of a thousand ancient fires

still burning

in me

i can hear it singing

good things are on the way

voices raised united

dancing through darkness

into the dawn.

there is something unspeakably beautiful

about a woman who is fully herself, fully her own

speaking her truth.  

she is vibrant and alive, an embodiment of the Divine.

fully, breathtakingly, Woman.

The paper I am currently writing for my Women's Spirituality class is focused around the issue of anger.   Specifically, Women's anger at the oppression and atrocities that befall us simply because of our gender and how that anger plays out in our spirituality and lives. 

Clarissa Pinkola Estes wrote, 

"Even raw and messy emotions are a form of light, crackling, bursting with energy.  We can use the light of rage in a positive way, in order to see into places we cannot usually see.  ...All emotion, even rage, carries knowledge, insight, what some call enlightenment.  Our rage can, for a time, become our teacher...a thing not to be rid of so fast, but rather something to climb the mountain for, something to personify, learn from, deal with internally, then shape into something useful in the world as a result, or something we let go back down to dust.  In the wild life, rage is not a stand-alone item.  It is a substance waiting for our transformative efforts."

when we are able to do this, when we can transform our rage and anger into compassion,

the effect we will have in the world will be astounding.  

change will come and we will be a force of unimaginable strength.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS

I~ GOT~AN~ APARTMENT!!!!!! THE ~COOLEST~ APARTMENT~ EVER!

Me

family comes in many forms

from many places

i have known such love

shining in so many faces

how many brothers and sister have I

how many mothers and fathers

truly- blessed- am I

truly- blessed- am I

we dwell in separate houses

call upon different names

we worship at different altars

but the Source is the same

how many brothers and sisters have I

how many mothers and fathers

truly- blessed- am I

truly- blessed- am I

Ani

looks like my crazy family

is down one crazy daughter cuz

i'm shipwrecked in a desert that

once was underwater just

looking for a swift turn of phrase

some colors to fly

as i float by

in the parade

plus i dream in skin scented sentences

of a stronger faster fiercer you

and to each noun, verb and predicate

i dedicate a vivid hue

but you ain't done too well

getting past your permanent pastel

have you now?

yes, the desert seemed so promising

and then it paled somehow

so school is in session

get your chin off your desk

now pick up your pencil

and turn over your test

use your education

and take an educated guess

about me

plus i have this whole new family

and i'm in love with each of them

and i'm on this list called lucky

whenever i'm in reach of them

and i'm learning how to say

that i'd be happy either way

with your love

so school is in session

get your chin off your desk

now pick up your pencil

and turn over your test

use your education

and take an educated guess

about me

By the Way..

All credit for that photo is due Colt Bender, an amazing photographer and pretty cool guy.

Also, the title for the post is 1) my personal sentiments of that moment and 2) reference to a Nina Simone song.

Thank you and Good Night.

How I Feel.

Be still, be still.

When human love is limited and even wounding,

the Beloved comes near

and holds me.

Solidaridad.

Solidarity.

Shit.

Check out this story.

Has anyone else noticed a major-crack down on small groups of activists/protesters???

At the No Borders Camp in Calexico there was what can only be described as utter brutality and aggressive, violent force used against a group of peaceful, unarmed protesters.
(PLEASE watch this video, I know it's hard.)

I also heard reports of injuries (requiring hospitalization) at the Anti-War/Anti-Recruitment protest in Berkeley.

If student protests, like the one in Santa Cruz, are being met with this kind of aggression and intimidation tactics, (these people were practically being held hostage in their house all day!!!) then I think it's time to worry. When the official report comes back on that one, don't be surprised if the word "terrorist" gets thrown around. Shit.

The video footage of the police ATTACKING peaceful people in Calexico, is actually, personally, very hard to watch. I met many of those people- they are beautiful, beautiful human beings. The only thing more horrifying than watching it happen, is the fact that NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT IT. I remember coming back into the states and being outraged that no major news network had even MENTIONED it. None of those Border Patrol (La Migra) officers have been chastised or penalized, let alone brought to justice.

For more information and video footage of the Camp, check out their website at:

http://noborderscamp.org/

Burning.

Como vas a quitarle, una Madre de su Hijo?
(How can you take her, a Mother from her Son?)
Como vas a decirle que se tiene que ir?
(How can you tell her that she has to leave?)
Loca es la cultura que confunde esas cosas-
(The culture that confuses these things is Crazy.)
Loca esta cultura- lo hay que decir??
(This culture is crazy- what is there to say?)


It's time to say it loud-
We Have Lost Our Fucking Minds.
you can't tell me that you are proud.
La Migra storms into a crowd-
grabs a mother by the neck.
they tell her she is not allowed
to here remain with her child.

The mother weeps beyond the fence
they have torn her from her son
victims of brutal circumstance
the child was born on hostile land
where they say she can't belong-
how can we understand
a loss so very very wrong?

It's time to build a new Underground Railroad
We can't go on playing deaf and blind
It's time to build a new Underground Railroad
El Rio Grande is the new Mason-Dixon line

"Give me your Tired and your Poor,"
cried the Lady with the torch
and then she Slammed her Iron Door
She built a Wall, she's waging War
fills the Minute Men with glee-
they have their share
but they want more,
Not So Brave and Not So Free

It's time to build a new Underground Railroad
We can't go on playing deaf and blind
It's time to build a new Underground Railroad
El Rio Grande is the new Mason-Dixon Line.

-music and lyrics by: Earl J. Rivard Jr. and Earl J. Rivard III

Help......me.............

Looking for a place, may in fact, make me COMPLETELY INSANE.

I had to hang up on what I had thought to be, possibly, a potential landlord because he not only kept me on the phone for an obscene amount of time by repeatedly asking the same questions over and over, but then asked me if I was "hispanic" because that was what he was "getting from me."
The clincher? He then went on to explain how he is unable to tell any "asian" people apart.

Click.

You gotta be kidding me.

Community as Resource?

If anybody hears or knows of someone who is renting out their place

or of someone who is looking for a roomate...

please let me know!

On Second Thought...

I am going to start seriously investing in educating the boys, the young and grown men that I come into contact with in my Life, about what it means to respect Women.

I going to invest in encouraging all Girls and Women to love and respect themselves and speak up- loud and strong- in the face of injustice, sexism, and misogyny- wherever they are found. 

A Moment in A Woman's Life

Ok. I am going to be really real for a moment here.


I just entered the Library, where I am working. I am here early to meet my mom and print out a paper for my class. As I am approaching the front doors, heavy-laden with a book-bag, purse, and jacket, I notice a small group of boys hanging out by the cafe in front. At this time of day, with a jr. high right down the street, it is not uncommon for there to be large groups of pre-teens hanging out in and in front of the library. Not studying mind you, just hanging out.

As I am struggling to make it to the front door without dropping either my book bag or my purse, or both, this group of boys grows quiet. Quiet until one of them calls out, loud enough for the surrounding people to hear,

"Nice titties."

My heart dropped to my stomach. I'm thinking, you gotta be kidding me, right? I know a 12 year old boy did not just publicly disrespect me, a full grown woman. Not like that.
I felt that old familiar shame rising up from my belly, hot and cold at the same time. I could feel my face warm and my eyes, though covered in sunglasses, were glaring. I stopped and looked at these boys, and asked them straight out-

"Would you talk to your Sister that way?
Would you talk to your Mama like that?"

They stared and were silent, one boy protesting his innocence- obviously ashamed. I gathered my things and what was left of my somewhat shattered dignity and walked inside.

I had dressed up today, wearing a form-fitting yet classy shirt. A change from the "baggy-rags" i have been adorning myself with of late. It figures.

Seriously considering investing in some potato sacks.

Ugh.

i think i'm done gunnin' to get closer

to some imagined bliss

i gotta knuckle down

just be ok with this

gotta knuckle down

just be ok with this

'course that star struck girl

is already someone i miss

Just Breathe.

condemned from public space

i sing

in the words from another's mouth

raging guitar

and pulsing bass

are not enough to calm me

today

i gotta tighten down on the lag time

Survivors are part turtle

we are part potato bug

we know enough to go fetal

til its still up above-

cause you gotta crawl through the desert

between when you can hear it

and when you can play it with your hands,

just a rendezvous with

whoever you are 

when you finally understand

i gotta tighten down on the lag time.

can't sit still

can't bring myself to breathe the air

of this shared space-

studying stones

trying to learn to be less alive

i've cut all of the pertinent wires

so my eyes can't make their connection

i am holding my breath

feigning my death

when i'm looking in your direction

cause Numb is an old hat

old as my oldest memories

its a skill 

i'd hoped to abandon 

when i got out on the open road-

there's never been an endeavor

so strange

as trying to slow the blood in my veins

to keep my face blank

as a stone that just sank

until not a ripple remains.

and welcome to:

this year's Alone

brought to you 

by valentine's day

it's not ok

i'm trying to make it so

but it's not ok

welcome to:

something like elation

when you first open your eyes

cause it means

you must have finally

got to sleep

last night

and today

i just can't play along.

i paint my face with blacks

and browns

a mask to the world

and a notice to myself:

i am not going to cry.

i am not going to cry.

i am not going to cry.

i am not going to cry.

Meister Eckhart and Rumi

It is a Lie

It is a lie- any talk of God

that does not 

comfort

you.

Rumi, Pay Homage

If God said,

"Rumi, pay homage to everything

that has helped you

enter my

arms,"

there would not be one experience of my life,

not one thought, not one feeling,

not any act, I

would not

bow

to.

So...

...today was a rough day.

Sometimes they just are, I guess.
Sigh.
Anyway, I found these quotes online and they made me smile, so i thought i would post them.


"Those who dance are thought to be quite insane by those who cannot hear music."
Maggie Erotokritou

"Re-examine all you have been told... Dismiss what insults your Soul."
Walt Whitman

I particularly like the last one, reminds me of a poem by Rumi which i will have to find and post.

I am taking a class. It feels really good. I didn't realize how much I had missed the academic world until recently. I am EXCITED about having projects due and assigned reading....yes, i said it, EXCITED. It's crazy. Perhaps I am ready to go back...

it certainly doesn't hurt that the class is "Women's Spirituality"...!

Truth is, i've never had a problem studying things that are of great interest to me--its the general-education-repeating-the-last-two-years-of-high-school bullshit that i can't stand. In all honesty, i only have one, at MOST, two semesters left to complete at community college, which i think i could blaze through with the prospect of ACTUALLY studying what I am interested in so very close.

Its funny, because as i talk to people about this, i get a couple of different responses, one of them being something like this, " PHEW! Great! Finally gonna get back on track with your life!" I mean, obviously this is not explicitedly said, but there is a distinct feeling of relief on their part.
It's very strange.

I look back over the last few years of my Life and i can honestly say that i have done MORE work during this time period of not being in school than i have ever done- in my whole Life.

More healing, more searching, transforming, and growing than at any other time in my Life. These years have been absolutely invaluable and i wouldn't go back and change anything, not one thing. I am a different person, and i am more Whole.

Also, i have a clearer idea of what my path might be, what pulls at my heart, what makes me more ALIVE than anything else...what my gifts are- and definitely what i do NOT want to do, or be, or have in my Life.

This Great Rush that our society is in has really swept by me and I am glad to watch it go. I think everyone here should be required to spend at least 3 months outside this country and then come back in, for some perspective. Or at least some culture shock. When i came back into California after my time in Mexico, we drove about 2-3 miles in towards San Diego and i was ready to jump out of a moving vehicle and make a run for it...

Something that has been coming up a lot recently:
**(to be read in the most utterly ridiculous grandiose voice you can muster, and with a little swagger, please.)**


"The Way Things Are~"


I refuse to go along with things simply because "This is The Way Things Are." ...what a crock of shit that is. Things are the way they are becuase we have made them that way. AND continue to do so, every day.

More and more lately the words of Gandhi have been echoing around in my head-

"Be the change you wish to see in the world."

Honestly, I don't know what this all means for my Life- what it will look like. But that's okay right now. I just know in my heart that i have a life work ahead of me that i am being prepared for now- and that it's probably going to look crazy to most people, and that i will never make any money doing it. But that's okay, too.

I just want to Love God
and Love People,

and that's it.

I Wonder as I Wander out Under the Stars...

How do i begin to explain all of these things to you?

People whom i love and care about, people whom i honor and respect?

How do i begin to let you in on this Incredible Journey i have been on?  That i am still on, learning and growing everyday?

Many of you think i have "fallen away"- or become "lost" or some other term from the Christian language used to explain why i do not walk through those front doors on Sunday mornings and sit dutifully for an hour or so, listening.

How can i explain that which is known by no one but my innermost being?

How do i give words to that which is Unnameable?

How do i share these, the most precious treasures of my heart, without inviting debate or argument?

How do show you that i don't mean to change anyone's mind, that i am merely asking for the space to be?

Babel

i hold eternity

like a drop of water in my palm,

whole unto itself

i can hear it's fragile song-

it whispers sweetly

like the sound of the wind in the trees

all of Creation

suddenly seems to sing...

that

every Step, every Breath-

like a pebble on the Road,

and 

every Road, every Path

leads us Home-

call Him by any name

or even call It, She

hail from any nation

under any creed,

how arrogant to reinvent

God

in our own image

it only serves to build walls

fuels hatred and division-

Krishna Buddha Jesu Cristo

Pachamama Maheo

Mi Diosito Yahweh Jah

Goddess Holy One

yeah, Babel has fallen and we're all callin'

out the same name

in different tongues...

and

in the same way that every ray

leads to the sun-

in the same way that every stream

flows towards the sea-

every Step, every Breath

like a pebble on the Road

and

every Road, every Path

will lead us Home,

leads us Home.

Women Who Run With the Wolves

"The creation Mother is always also the Death Mother and vice versa. Because of this dual nature, or double-tasking, the great work before us is to learn to understand what around and about us and what within us must live, and what must die. Our work is to apprehend the timing of both; to allow what must die to die, and what must live to live." (p.32)


"What must I give more death to today, in order to generate more life? What do I know should die, but am hesitant to allow to do so? What must die in me in order for me to love? What not-beauty do I fear? Of what use is the power of the not-beautiful to me today? What should die today? What should live? What life am I afraid to give birth to? If not now, when?" (p.159)


-Clarissa Pinkola Estes

New Job

Literacy is a gift, a privilege even, that I take for granted.

What is more powerful than being able to express yourself?

And yet, maybe even that is wrong thinking...What thought is more powerful to a person who cannot read- that they will be able to be self-sufficient, independent, and empowered??

Or that they will be able to "express themselves"?  

Maybe it's the same.  Either way, what an incredibly powerful thing- Literacy.  

What a gift.

I read something tonight that nearly broke my heart.  Due to confidentiality issues, I am unsure of how much I can and cannot share here.  What I will say is that it made my heart ache in a way that it hasn't for a long time.   

This work is one of the most important things I have ever done.  

And work is not work when it is DEEPLY meaningful and is changing peoples' lives.

I am so grateful to have this opportunity.  Wow.