We Live in Public

Recently I've been thinking a lot about this movie I saw at the t/f festival. This is partially why I have been not blogging/facebooking. I'll blog about it soon enough though if I'm supposed to.

MY BRAIN, MY BAD

So I got into a conversation about how I learn. My friend asked me why I haven't read the Bhagavad Gita and I said it's because I don't learn through direct transmission. I'd probably in all reality read it if I was asked to in a dream. Let me explain.





Here is an example of a normal learning experience for me. Yesterday morning I had a dream in which I was teaching Yoga Nidra. I was communicating something very abstract and real. Its farfetched clarity is key to my flavor of intelligence and nothing I could possibly read about and register through 'direct transmission' in my waking life. As I was meditating yesterday morning I recalled what I could of the dream, namely the sensation, and I asked that if that teaching needed to move through me, that I could have the courage to allow it. It so happened that I taught last night. I have to say some of the words I used surprised me and I said some things in certain ways that I wouldn't have expected. Afterwards I spoke with my friend who received the practice and she shared her experience in the form of, "When I heard these words from you, this happened." From this roundabout method I was able to learn a 'truth' about the practice of Yoga Nidra. I learned a specific teaching at a specific time that was exactly right for me. At the same time I embodied the teaching. To take the energy of even finding a book with this particular teaching (which I'm not sure I could have learned from a book anyway), I would have to have really good luck and expend a lot of energy at the same time, probably taking in a lot of unnecessary information along the way. Because I wasn't taking in a lot of unnecessary information, I was able to receive the teaching with clarity. It doesn't do any good for me to tell you what the teaching is because you will get it in the way you need to simply by interacting with the flavor of you that is me.

T/F Weekend in Columbia, MO

Richard and I got in town friday afternoon, bought tickets for our first documentary, and ate ice cream at Sparky's. It was good, so we manned up and ate some more. Realizing we were missing the parade, we ran up the street to say hi to Ann Mehr and join it.



We bumped into Floppy at the parade. He was all decked out to play bike polo.



We enjoyed being house guests at the Mehr's.



We got coffee with Ken, who I was really glad to see. Here he is schooling Richard on Patanjali.

true/false weekend

I am going to talk about something I see
only because I see it in myself, not because it is true.
I don't know what true means anyway.

I notice a tendency for some to get involved in yoga because it brings them in touch with themselves. I will not analyze why or how. But in the beginning this is not a very sober event. You see What the Bleep and read some Deepak, and all of a sudden there is this idea that anything is possible, and there is such excitement around this and liberation.

However, the difference between liberation as an idea and liberation as a path are two very different things. There is this idea that once liberation is identified, it should be easy to liberate, but again, the idea realm only is part of the body, and we cannot grow through ideas alone. The path travels through the body, maybe then the person does a back bend in a yoga class and has a heart opening, maybe they cry, maybe they see an experience and let go of it. This is it, they think, all of this suffering can be released through my body. I should be a yoga teacher.

Places like the Kripalu Center are full of people like this in their teacher trainings, it seems this way to me anyway. They are all high on light right now and that's great, but I feel like shit right now and to see them running around so light makes me a little sick. I shouldn't be so judgemental--maybe they have dwelled in the darkness in their spiritual practice. Or maybe they don't need to on their paths.

I guess what I am saying is that there are no easy answers. And it seems like you would have to be kidding yourself to be a teacher when you are still on the early stages of this path-less path. Maybe it is part of the path. They are probably just fine. It just sucks to be dwelling in my shit right now and see people running around high on light because they haven't looked at their darkness lately. And of course, that's not really what is happening--that's me seeing myself in something I project to be happening. Nothing is really happening is it?

Nothing really would have to happen for me to abolish my suffering. What's there already isn't the question, it's what is getting in the way of what's there already and the job for me lately seems to be something of a detective.

I have spent so much time in my life not owning the behaviors and views I have had that have been limiting myself, and now they are confronting me headfirst.

I don't think that I still should necessarily be with Derrick, and I don't think that I was blaming him for any of my problems when I ended things in September. I believe the tone was 'I need to learn about myself, and I can't do that in the context of a relationship". I still stand by that. But I saw him last saturday for the first time since then and it was hard in terms of me owning all the little problems I had with 'the relationship' and realizing that actually they were really just little problems that I had with myself. It was hard seeing him seeming well adjusted and moving on with his life. And me feeling like I'm so face to face with my darkness right now. I had to watch my ego wanting to be 'wanted', I had to watch my ego be 'jealous', I had to watch my ego wanting 'superiority' to gain control over the situation. I didn't let any of that happen, i just let myself feel the hurt. I felt coldness in a place that used to feel warm, and emptiness in a place that used to feel full. It sucked.

I know I'm being hard on myself, and I'll take it easy, but this is just where I am right now. It's also hard because I know there is some perfection to what is right now, but it's doesn't make me feel 'light' or like a 'winner' which is perhaps what I may have used to expect back in my What the Bleep stage of spirituality when I thought about 'divine perfection'. This just makes me feel the finality of 'myself' and it is incredibly sobering.

There is also some self-hatred present which makes my path of learning how to love myself even more of a challenge. But self love is my goal, so I have to rise up to find it even more at this time as much as ever.

Stories About Stories (Babies Making Babies)

It smells great here in Kansas City.

The sky is blue, there is NO green on the trees (we ain't got evergreens like you do, oh no, no hills neither). Sixty some odd degrees it reached today, in this somewhat desolate, meaty aroma-ed atmosphere. I feel sweet; going outdoors without a jacket is so liberating.

The trees are haunting here. Their gorgeous skeletons look so dry I almost can't believe they will grow leaves again, and they look so defiant--jagged branches plunge out, violent and graceful against periwinkle background. The wind blows through them and rolls over me as I wander through loose park, straggling behind, hearing in some places my dear angel Kelly talking about birth politics with Heather.

And my vibe is still, I stand still, what feels to be stiller and stronger and more distinctive than ever before. Everything has changed. Everything is still. I am still.

Some emotional opportunities have come up so far that I would normally get swept away in. I have noticed a temptation to do this, and even an inclination or beginning of doing this, but the stillness seems to pervade and interfere. And through this stillness, this space held, life is allowed to happen. Healing and progress allowed.

Amidst this I find myself catching myself. Being close to home is allowing things to hit me close to home. I'm seeing some more things, things I wouldn't have thought of myself so I'm glad I didn't try to.

Today I spent the day with dad. He is a sweet man and so emotional. He has a very active mind so it is interesting to be around that energy. He is also very well endowed with earth energy and being around him feels constructive. Makes me feel more like manifesting those things I'll be doing, I'm starting to see the process with which I am able to snatch things from the sky with my fingers and mold them and turn them into life. We ate an amazing lunch at the good Indian buffet. We bought reeds for his Selmer Mark 6 saxophone. We went to Whole Foods and he had fun checking everything out, he got himself some multivitamins for 'mature' adults and kidded with the check out girl who relished in giving him a hard time.

I knew I was supposed to come to KC, of course I didn't know WHY but made a story about it anyway. Now that I'm here, things seem to be happening so quickly and so needily, like crying children that need to be fed NOW. At the same time I find myself catching time and hanging with its resonance. Finding myself sitting a lot, being, waiting. Opportunities and tasks popping up, sounds of helicopters in the air, a flash of de ja vu in the kitchen as I unload groceries. I remember this. I remember mom being out of town and what? What is this strange feeling that is coming over me again?

I cooked. We thought about turning on Seinfeld and did, but within seconds of sitting down to the food we both decided that it didn't feel right. Dad regaled me with stories with and without beginnings and ends, things got alluded to and conclusions were awoken to and I held space, watching him bloom. He loved playing soul music in high school and talked about his band leader, an original mc who took after James Brown. Talked about being led by feel rather than sheet music. Spoke with so much feeling and sweetness and nostalgia. Talked about things done and not done and would haves and lessons learned and the kinds of things my dad likes to talk about. Talked about fear and why he left music behind. Talked about growing up with two parents who were musicians, and how his dad didn't push him to take lessons until he wanted them, but then when he wanted those sax lessons how his dad had the connections to get him the best sax teacher in St. Louis. Life going on.

Right around then we got a phone call, it was my cousin Trisha from Louisiana who is not a frequent caller. Grandpa Joe, dad's dad, collapsed in the middle of Ash Wednesday mass. He had a heart attack. And that was the last five hours of my evening.

March 4th Update: My dad, expecting the worst, went to Louisiana to be with his family. However it wasn't my grandpa's time. Grandpa Merello is better, and with an adjustment in his vitamins and medicines, everything should be fine.

Day 3--Nashua

I forgot to mention in my last post that I sleep in the same room with their recently deceased cat Midnight's ashes. As I drifted off that first night, after Mags finished the story and asked me if I wanted the Christmas lights on or off (I opted for off), a huge sensation said, "HEY it's OKAY!!!" then cruised through my body. Woah. The last time I slept in Justine's room it was August and Midnight was alive. I remember waking with a start at three in the morning to see Midnight sitting perfectly still, mugging me with her queer yellow eyes. This had given me the willies. But this time, her presence is definitely felt, but it seems comfortable.



Last night I got to spend time with one of my kindred spirits, the lovely Magdalene.



We sat by the fire in the fireplace and listened to an lp of a flautist playing in the taj mahal. We attempted to make henna past but failed. We found a teal fine point sharpie and drew crazy ass gardens on each other's heart centers. I decided that if I were a high school art teacher one of the assignments I would give would be to make a crazy ass garden somewhere you wouldn't normally find a crazy ass garden.



We read aloud out of our journals to each other, stuck our candy in the air, watched animation shorts, traded back rubs, spilled things, ate burnt popcorn. It was a pretty good time.

This morning we went to their local Salvatorre Armani's (What they call salvation army) and I picked up this sweet sweater. What do you think about that?!

Golly

When the car pulled into the dark and rolled away from the glowing mothership of kripalu, I felt strange. EARTH SPACE rolled under my feet as I soaked in the flavor of my aunt's intense aura and clutched my black tormaline, gazing out the window and coming into stride with this new wavelength. Why this felt unchartered was beyond me--I've been driven down that driveway dozens of times, and I have embarked on trips away a few times as well. Why can't I trick my energy body, "Why yes, see, we'll just be driving into town to pick up some things, then we'll be back by bed time." Maybe I would have felt strange all the same if I was just going into town for a beer or whatever. Maybe I was just feeling strange. There was, however, some tint IN the strangeness that hinted at the nature of the journey I was about to take. My hat brim concealed my eyes as I sat in the shade, deciphering subtle washes of sensation that seemed to glaze through the atmosphere, through me.

The kirtan cd that my aunt had purchased droned on and on, and after an hour or so she felt it too--she needed a break from the vibe. We pulled into a stop so she could have a coffee. My cousin Magdalene and I ate ice cream. The rest stop played only non-american music...an interesting contrast considering the nature of the architecture of the place...I imagined 30 other travel stops just like it, all playing the same uncommon music. When we walked in, the structure of the space was very intentionally set up. The very brightly lit right side of the space had Mcdonalds and other fast foods with no seating--for travelers on the run. Bathrooms were directly to the back. The left side of the building was decidedly low lit, and had the upscale "LAVAZZA--Italy's favorite coffee" and Ben and Jerry's. We hung out on the LAVAZZA side in a dark and rainy booth. On the walls were some photographs that seemed like a cross between commercial artwork made for the space and advertisements. Only if they were advertisements there was nothing being advertised. Have you ever tried to make an advertisement without actually advertising anything? I have some tips for you: lots of open mouth smiles, a couple shot, and a familial shot. Cynthia perked up from the LAVAZZA and conversation, we were well rested from the rest stop and we were ready to go. All those open mouth smiles and intentional lighting worked. That and the dopamine that they were pumping into the air supply. The future is now.

Mags played the latest N*E*R*D cd for her mom's driving music and I have to say I was disappointed. It worked for Cynthia. All she had to hear was the hook, "All the girls standing in line for the bathroom," and the logic of the language tittilated her Virgo mentality enough to stimulate her, she riffed on with the music, harmonizing with her voice and drumming with her hands. My aunt is such a treat.

We arrived in Nashua and pulled into their driveway around 11:00. We had tea and Mags tucked me in and read me a bedtime story. Ferdinand. I didn't want the pictures, I closed my eyes and imagined myself as a big strong bull who stood steady around all the bullfighters who wanted to fight me, smelling flowers and enjoying the stillness.