Housatonic, MA

I live in rural Western Massachusetts now. Last year I also lived in rural Western Mass but that was in a yoga center. Now I am a citizen of rural Western Mass.

Here is where I live, on "Pollock Hill" in Housatonic. Apparently at one point in Housatonic's industrial boom, they imported an entire Polish village and planted them in this little neighborhood at the top of the hill. That's where I live, 232 Grove St.




Here is the funky little garage. There's Blackura, my new car.



Here is side view of said funky little garage.



My backyard neighbors. They have goats and a vocal rooster and donkey.



The view in downtown Housie.



not such a great photo, says, "Come feel the spirit."



My new library.



I have to go to my post office to get my mail.



That's my new hood! What do you think?

Strange and Beautiful Underwater City

So now I have been to New York City.

And right now, I am sitting in Kim's East Harlem apartment.

It is cool and still in here. The outside is grey, although all that I can see of it is from the light reflected off of the building outside the windows. It is quiet, although outside life is happening. Planes to La Guardia fly overhead every once in awhile. I hear diesel engines of delivery trucks and men hawking loogies and shouting at each other. But all of this action seems to be contained in an overarcing stillness, as if this whole experience were contained within an ocean. Not me seperate from it. I am in the same ocean.

When I dipped into meditation for my morning practice, the stillness was large. Loud. Full. I wonder if when meditation happens if it is merely a tuning into a wavelength. I imagine different places have different wavelengths, and I imagine there are also many to choose from at that.

This is like no other place I have been to before. My first impression of this was a complete otherworldliness. As if I was on another planet or in an alternate reality. And the longer I sink into this environment, it feels like just that, a sinking in, a surrender. If I chose to I could feel claustrophobic. However, in the ocean, going under feels very contained and seperated and at the same time very vast and connected.

I had to get used to breathing here. It reminds me of my dreams where I can breathe underwater. As I entered my pranayama (breath) practice this morning, however, I realized that I could very much breathe this air in and harness life force from it by becoming it. Nothing to fight, spirits tell me. The energy is loving and powerful. Elemental. There may be extra pollution and things in the air that I am not used to breathing, but the prana I am taking in is something else all together.

The deeper I sink in, I wonder what will happen. I wonder if I will no longer need my eyes to see. All this floating, all this being, all this happening. All this alchemy. All the wavelengths, existing. And where am I? Grounded. Here. Channeling all the this.

Pregnant Seeds

In a recent dream I was looking closely in the mirror and peeling propeller seeds off my face as if they were scabs. That came up during my yin practice last night and the message, "Put those seeds where they belong" came through. So I attempted to put the propeller seeds over my sacral chakra around my right ovary...the image that came through though showed the propeller seeds as pregnant! Pregnant with some wild ideas.

Lindsey-Self Love

Henna, cont'd

Pam=Healer



Leg Lotus



"Lady"



Hand Lotus



Precious Perfection



60 and Agelessly Beautiful



Communicating with Beloved Guidance



My Third Eye Asked Me to do it



Cassandra



TRUST



give love



Healing for Recovering Broken Ankle



Gemini's Birthday



Divine Guidance





Zoe




Throat Opening/Empowering

I don't know anything.

In here in here. It's like here in here. Here, here. Here, hear here here. So I hear. Crambed with crumbs, jangly indentical emotions, junked up with something heard again and again in here. Here, another self I'd like to recognize. And who am I? Perhaps I am that self you see inside, the one who hurts and dreams and forgets to show you her true face, her one constant. One constant? What is that? That oh my god, did she just say that? Work before play, then work and work and take her self too seriously. Self had better calm down before disapproval sets in into all those other selves secretly being judged. By whom? It's a secret, because there is no I. It isn't me, I'm a 'spiritual person'. Only love, right? Only love when love is only love but what about the rest of the time? The time when, where, were you when I needed a friend? Where was I when intimate realms dared to be explored? Do I know myself? Do I dare? Exploring to explode, popping all over this pie hole, recognized by you, who? And seen by who? Who? Who? Who? Where am I? What is this? Meaning-less, and the hurtful way you absorb my presence without acknowledging it. Do I do that? Did I do that? Did I do that? Here. In here is where this takes place. In here, around here hurtful tones bounce back and forth and words are said through me that might feed your daddy issues and my mommy issues but certainly don't see the difference between you and me. We try to struggle. To stay here, see here, why is it one day isn't this one. And this one is different as well. I hear-ed I hurt and I don't know why. Why do you treat me this way? Why I? I don't know.

7/13/09 DREAMLAND

Dreamland is a special place. It exists here on earth. People here write in cursive because there is no need to break the line, from one thought to the next, between the darkness and the light, everything here flows effortlessly into itself, in the proper way it needs to be expressed at the moment. Earlier this year it felt like there was 'something that needed to be connected to' in order to plug in to dreamland. A 'different' feeling, different 'voices' to listen to. Now I no longer hear the voices, it seems that I AM them. If I were writing this with henna on skin I'm sure these words wouldn't be words at all. They would be prismatic shapes, as if looking at a chessboard at the bottom of a swimming pool--some ideas liquidy and difficult to grasp, but clear as experienced in the moment. Clear as it is what needs to be clarified with an unbroken line, uniting shadow and light, uniting sickness and health, bringing a field together and translating it into the truth of itself, the truth of the intention. The truth of vibration. I feel your thoughts shift and the shapes change. Maybe these thoughts are hectic and hurtful and my line will reveal that. It may be somewhat sad, but I trust in the higher wisdom guiding me. I trust that if this garbage needs to be seen, so be it. In dreamland things seems innocent and clear. It is important for me to remember that dreamland looks different of the outside than it does on the inside, and for the past week I have been learning more about both points of view.