I am changing. This is me embracing joy. Saying YES.
It would feel natural to say that I'm "improving," but really what's happening is that I am stripping away layers of nonsense. Incinerating parts of me that were never true. Unlearning things that I took on to get by when things were different.
I am ... more me.
I wrote a novel once. And I didn't feel super-driven to write another, at least not right away. What I've been doing, is working on me. I've spent a year, four seasons, diving into my fears and phobias. Traveling. Observing. Feeling. Writing. Healing. I've discovered in this year of me, that I am a singer/songwriter. This is such a huge part of who I am, and it vanished... once I entered academia and prepared for "a real job." A common tale for creatives.
Side-note: higher ed can be great and I have no regrets. It got me to now, which is great. But it's not everything. If you feel a calling, answer it. Honor it. Hone it. You may wake up one day and wonder why you spent all that time and money for paper and memorized jargon. This is common. On the flip-side, pursuing higher education is a saving grace for some people, it's the perfect recipe to provide growth, independence, freedom, and validation of Self. Follow YOUR path.
I have a new new trunk full of originals, they pour out of me now. I'm addicted to it again. But there was that lingering monster... stage fright.
I am baby-stepping it. I sang an original for my mother, to the delight of positive feedback. But that's my MOTHER. Then, I had a coaching appointment this morning and I schlepped my guitar across the parking lot, feeling quite strange the whole way. And I played/sang my newest for her: it's an ode to the dreamers who are also parents, and it's got 💯 of my heart and soul in it. My coach nearly wept as I finished it, and something happened inside... listen... it's not about me and my nerves. Although my fingers quivered and my feet shook uncontrollably and my voice cracked a few times and I felt my neck starting to gather sweat... my heart also cracked wide open. Wow. What magic was this? Yes magic.
It's about sharing what I've been given.
Indeed. It's about purpose. Again, the world seems newer. Brighter. Beautiful.
Hoping to start recording these little nuggets of deep feels and stories and moments for you. A two week travel/writing adventure starts on Thursday and I should be close to a finished first draft of Wild Horses and Mistakes. I'm so freakin' excited about this. Like, feet-shaking-knee-knocking-excited.
That must be good...
More soon... xoxo
With so much love,
It's been a week since I attended a half-day women's retreat with the lovely ladies at The Life Detox Retreats. This is the sort of event that I always push back, make excuses about, or try to work around. I mean it's half a day! But I promised myself that I'd show up. For starters. I'm so glad that I did, here's why:
I say this a lot...that magical things happen when women gather together, with like intentions. A synergy, a web of interconnectivity, is born that never existed before.
We began around 8 am, which for me, on a Saturday...is ridiculous. I wanted to stay in bed. Lounge, indulge, snooze, and stay in my luscious dreaming. But I promised, and this was, after all, the year of choosing ME (the premise of Wild Horses and Mistakes.)
I rushed a bit, but made it on time. The grass was still cool and damp with dew, the sun was still low. There was a peaceful quiet: a crispness, a clean-ness...about the energy in the air. I remember thinking... this is why people wake up early. For the stillness. Wow. It was beautiful. (Not making promises to become an early bird...)
I wandered in and found the women, chatting, standing, sitting, assembling around yoga mats. We started the day with some quick greetings and introductions from the facilitators and then eased into a gentle yoga routine. It was just lovely, being outdoors on a sprawling and lush estate, surrounded by green, at the foot of the harbor. Hearing the birds overhead in the canopy, feeling the fresh morning breeze on my skin, opening to the whole experience. It was blissful.
As the day went on, and we nibbled on wholesome foods, and moved into different areas for different methods of inner-work, like EFT (tapping), I found that I was surrounded by women from all places in the circle. Some were a few laps ahead of me, and had deeper, richer stories to tell, and deeper, more painful wounds to carry forward. Some were a few rounds behind me. We were all different, we lived different lives. We felt different levels of stress or worry or pain or sadness... and also different levels of motivation, dreaming, goal-setting, and challenge busting. Because there is both, there will always be both.
Dream and envision, while overcoming obstacles and pushing through fears and pain. And the scale of these things will vary; our best looks different at different times in our lives.
There is a balance.
I remembered and brought so much more to the surface that day, and in the days after. How beautiful it is to share our stories, to gain perspective, and to connect with each other. To observe. To listen. To see pieces of myself, in all of these women. How grateful I was just to be there. To witness. I gained a great deal of gratitude and perspective. It was a perfect little reset.
it was solidarity.
But also, the number one thing that kept bubbling up for me, all week... was exploration. Curiosity. Imagination, dreaming, creativity. All of this involved exploration. I had been in a bit of a tug-of-war, for a while, neck-deep in paradox, while writing more of my current project, which is probably the most honest and vulnerable piece of writing I've worked on, thus far. Even in that, there is challenge, a battle, a charge forward and a rush of resistance. It's all part of the experience. The give and take.
I'd thought for so long, and really took to heart, that to be spiritual... was to be silent, obedient, and stoic. Receiving, only. Just be still and grateful, and all I need will come to me. Ohm... OK. Let's get real for a minute, beyond the bullshit and chatter. I have less and less time for it.
Here's the thing with that... in real life: if I were to sit still, in blind gratitude and acceptance of what my life was and never got off my rump to see or do anything new...well, then nothing would ever change. My life would always be as it was, I wouldn't see or do anything different, nor would my son, and I would spend a lifetime limiting myself. Or him. No. Something has to move. Change. Shift. Always.
Writing my first book wasn't so much about the finished product, it was about who I got to be, as I wrote it. As I finished it. And made room for more to flow through. Chasing wild horses, or pursuing our dreams, isn't about what we catch, it's about who we get to be, what we see, how we grow and evolve...as we journey toward them. It's about adventure, the unknown, the other side of fear, the magic and mystery of encountering something new. It's about moments of awe and wonder and magic. To be still and unmoving, is to avoid change. It's safe. Simple. Less threatening, for sure. But to avoid and hide from change is to miss out on growth opportunities, as well as, oh...those simple little things like... bliss, joy, fun, excitement, passion, pleasure, meaning, and magic. All the things that make Life worth living. For me, spirituality is about embracing humanity, not hiding from it, and living in the Mind, alone. It's about coming fully into my body, from my soft stomach, to my head, and all the way out to my finger tips and toes. Being aware of twinges and discomforts and pain and exploring them. Healing them. Also, diving deep into the me inside, exploring there. Allowing emotional pain to surface for healing, and letting it go, and finding myself that much lighter and more free. Closer to wild and unfettered and blissfully abundant, with each healing and release. Stronger and more resilient with each stumble and setback.
To me, this is it. Living full-on, up-close with the Self. Honestly. Full acceptance of all that I am, light and dark. Awareness of what doesn't work, and measured action to improve. All change begins with conscious thought, with an idea, with a seed. But it lingers, unawakened, until action is taken. There must be a catalyst.
Action...is the step through the threshold, into a new world. A leap of faith. A big decision. Facing a fear. A change in plans, a new experience, a flight to another place, meeting someone new... all of these are first steps through that doorway, into a new story. A new adventure. Consciously creating opportunities to encounter new things, face to face. To engage the senses in different ways, to change perspective, to expand.
I am working with a coach now, (I'll gush about her when we're through, I don't want to detract from our work together) and it's doing wonders for staying focused and connected to my creativity. And she said something at our last visit, that stayed and rattled around in my head. Shook things up. It had to do with getting to core wants and desired outcomes, how I'd choose to design my life and experience creativity in a responsive world:
"What if there wasn't a book to write? What if there was no song you had to write and sing? No project to get done? What would it be then? What's beneath that? Without the to-dos?"
Wow. What a storm of stuff! Epic battles started raging inside, don't tell me I can't write! Why can't I sing? Why, what, why... and on and on. Silently, of course. Inside. Me against me. As is everything.
But I considered it, for the sake of the exercise...and some crystal clear truths bubbled up through the mess...
1. I am writer because it's who I am. I'll always write, I always have, because it's just me. It's how I see the world, and whether I share it or not, it will still happen. I live stories; life is art. It's not a have to, it's just me. As much as my arm or my foot is me. The same is true of music. If I went through a day without dancing around the kitchen, holding mini-concerts in the car as I drove, or hearing music within me and letting it out...I'd obviously be very ill or depressed. It just doesn't happen often. So, the answer to that question is: I'd still do and enjoy these things, even if I didn't seek to publish or share them. They're just me. It also made me so much more grateful to have these outlets in my life, and I promised to create more space for them.
2. But what if... if I didn't have those things. What else is it, what is the thing that lights me up, that sets my soul on fire, that mainlines me into Bliss? It's travel. New places, experiences, adventures, people, sights, sounds, smells, landscapes, FOOD. I write and create to process my world, and explain it in my own unique way, but I travel to engage my world. To live. For me, travel is to be in experience of Life, while art is to be in observation of life. (I did say up there that life IS art, so I don't know. Good luck sorting all that out. it might not make sense. It might, though.) Anyway. I thrive on a balance of both. So, if I had no project to work on, if I wasn't writing something or crafting something... I'd definitely be planning my next travel experience.
And here's why all of this is so important: knowing what makes us come alive and feel good, is everything. Knowing what that is, and then doing it, is a recipe for a fulfilling life. It's simple, but it's everything. Human beings, as we grow from childhood and encounter life's slings and arrows, we become wary of joy. We get further and further from it if we don't make an active choice to bring it to mind, and connect to it. Consciously. And stillness, quiet, meditation is key...because in the silence, we hear ourselves again. We hear what it is that we really want. (Pssst. We're still allowed to want things.) Or, we could hear our purpose, or the whisperings of the divine within us, our higher selves, pointing us toward our Truth. Whatever it is, way deep down, that energy, in those buried places, we get to listen to it.
I believe that we don't merely wait for our lives to happen to us, but that we consciously create them. Each day, with each choice. What great reminders I got, this week.
A simple prescription:
Find balance: nourish the body, quiet the mind, honor the soul
Listen and know what you want
Honor that voice, take a step toward what it wants, and live in gratitude of it
Repeat as necessary.
Magical, mystical, music.
"I knew when I was 13 what I wanted to do - I wanted to be a musician." - John Mayer
And so he has been.
I took the night off from overthinking, writing, practicing, Mom'ing, planning, exercising, pain-treating, and everything else...and I let music have its way with me tonight. Not sorry. It was good for me. Even the Belgian White felt medicinal.
It was a blessing, a homecoming...the BFF and I went to Jones Beach to see JM many moons ago, and I say homecoming, because, well listen to this coolness:
Way back when, in another lifetime, we went to this place, under the stars, to see the Counting Crows, Maroon 5, and this John Mayer guy. I was there for Adam Levine, nothing else. Or so I thought. That first time I saw him, John Mayer, I was surprised. I hadn't been a fan of the "run through the halls of my school" stuff. Your body is a what? Ew. I appreciate it now, and know every word, but back then? College days? Competing with DMB, Alicia, J-Lo, Janet, Gwen, Staind, Usher, Maroon 5, and ay dios mio, Enrique.... well, maybe I liked one song on the album: My Stupid Mouth. Yeah, I got that. It resonated. I had no filter. And Neon...great picking, wow. I thought we could hang, maybe, but the music? Eh. Coffeehouse. Chin pubes. College kids, fake IDs. Whatevs. (That was THEN John, I adore you now.)
Anyway, that night, back then, that first night I saw him live, he wasn't a frat kid at a coffeehouse. He brought out an electric guitar. The lights went down, the spot followed him to center-stage, and he started channeling Jimi Hendrix. This was way before the Trio. He just stood there and left it all the floor. He bled. Something magical happened. I felt it. And it spilled out of him, onto the floor, through the fog, across the crowd and seeped into me. I was hooked. This...this wailing, this pain-filled melancholic magic, this kind of connecting...moved me. So much more than the acoustic rhythmic strumming. I remember then, after seeing him, coming right back home, the way I did tonight, and I gushed into my MySpace blog for a good hour about that solo and how it "took me to outer space."
2003. August 25, 2003. Two days shy of 14 years ago. How much has gone down, how much we've seen and witnessed, since those simple days. How much Life has crept by?
And now. What magic is this, in these tones, these lyrics, these sounds, this... emoting... connecting... that brings it all right back. To then. What a gift that is, to create time-travel. To create doorways in the mind to such bliss, such simplicity, such joy. Remembering.
And to create more, here and now. Oh...art.
It's a magic I can't explain. If I was in the blissed-out state the guy a few seats down from me was in, I'd say... it's some epic, mind-blowing, cosmic shit. Yeah, man. Something like that. All those things.
Music. What is it about music that can do this for us?
And it's not all music I connect to in this way, it's what I call the authentic stuff. Connected stuff. It has to feel a bit organic, to me. And that's what it is, right there. It's real. Songwriting... taking in the world, the highs the lows, the waves of bliss and sorrow, the try-it-agains, and the fucked-it-ups, the climbing so high and the crashing so low. The movement, the pain, the memory, the fear, the longing. Imagining. Obsessing. Dreaming. The emotion. And it's this, this capture of raw, of real, of...Life. This is what connects us all. Art. To have an emotional experience, to share it, and to have us feel it, too. Connection. Heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul. This is what the artist, the creator, does.
And it's true for any art. They just take us there. Where we want and need to go. To enter into their world, to be there, to feel, to release, to let go, to heal. To hope, to dream, to imagine, to smile. To pause, to breathe. To appreciate. To wonder. To celebrate.
Musicians, while fulfilling their own need for release and connecting with us... also hold space. They hold for a us a sacred space in time to connect in a world full of distraction. Harmony in a world of disharmony. They give us moments, really, precious moments of unified and focused energy: a whole crowd feeling the same things at the same time. Which is why sensitive folks, well...me, at least... love these events so much. They light us up: we breathe in joy, awe, bliss, melancholy. But together, as a whole, a living organism, an expanding and contracting universe of meaning and and communication, all its own.
I feel blessed to have to gone. Thanks John Mayer. 14 years. Only getting better. We've got creases and lines and joint issues and other things, gen-xers, but, deep down, we're all still 'those kids.' And you took us there. Again. And I am moved. Again.
This is...yes...serious ass-kissing, but also an homage to music; being the glue that binds us. And how lucky you are, how lucky anyone can be: to be up there, living it, and have such influence. What a gift. What a dream, what an inspiration.
Thanks for a great night out.
PS...John Mayer totally admitted to being a guy who likes a good cry. Relevant because I just blogged about that in Big Boys Don't Cry...
The Reluctant Muse
he once asked
and i had no answer
i still don't
it wasn't something i sought
not the result of some lonely-night thought
it started with a look,
a moment, a whisper
a handshake, a glimmer
a hint of
new, yet familiar
an astonishment that
men like him
did exist, in this world
an acceptance of all that i learned to
question, deep, within myself
and i had to save it
again and again and again
and i still do
i knew i couldn't write him into my life
but i could write him into the hearts of so many
and light them up
win their hearts
the way he ignited mine
once upon a time
he lives now in my pen
in my heart
in my head
in all the thoughts
that are still left unsaid
and why wouldn't they be?
to imagine you stepping out of the page
at this point
seems quite surreal
another lingering mystery
i never pretend there's a
you and me
but i'm intrigued by you
and all that you see
to speak, i wouldn't know where to start
but to imagine, to write, to sculpt you into art?
this appeals to my heart
and these stories of you
shiver cold and burn hot
i don't know
perhaps you could ask
i once saw you as Other, so far apart
a repeater, regurgitator
a soul-for-sale duplicator
the jagged edge of cold stone
surrounded, loud, yet completely alone
hard. rough. jagged. gruff.
stubborn. heartless. calculating. tough.
time would soften my view of your edges
your oft-hidden heart would lead friends from their ledges
and hidden you stayed for good reason, i've seen
walls so high to protect a heart so bright
behind darker glass, eyes that shined with such Light
seeing much more than you'd ever dreamt
feeling much more than you'd ever said
and where to put it, and where to put it
and to keep it inside would surely tear at your mind
but to lay it all out would surely let them poke you blind
and so what choice was there to make?
silence, it seemed, was the road to take
and there, in that place, could you really see
feel, grow, breathe deeper into Being
balancing wanting with nurturing, needing
healing a heart that wished to keep bleeding
allowing its pulsing, its singing, its beating
that knowing, that ache, of more
allowing its Grace, its acknowledgment of peace
allowing its space, its expanding, its release
of all that is no longer to be kept
in allowing the unseen to loosen its grasp on your heart
you've set yourself free, you've chosen a new start
and this is where all the best stories begin
this is where you finally let the Truth in
Lost in my adolescent past
The gift of a second glance
Days of impetuous, unbridled Now
Undertow, letting go, holding on, reaching for Bliss
Rose petals and mystery and magic in the mist
Galaxies collide, collapsing into the
grand symphony of a brand new whole
pulsating, undulating, reborn as One
Each dying into the other
Separate from the rest
Shining, apart, its own work of Art
Yes, yes, I remember, I know
I can remember, Spring's taste still sweet upon my lips
Then, Summer's sweet effervescent kiss
The allure, the torture, the pull and twist
Such a cosmic, scintillating glow
When two worlds combine
and no one else has to know
But time and experience have taught this little girl
that I'm the only one who can design my Life, My Love, my Heart ...
This woman, here now, is not that little girl
Pain changes people and I live in a different world
But the question hangs heavy in the air
Can prying open Love's box lead to Joy and not despair?
Can we recall Spring and dance eternally in Summer's Sun?
One never knows, so we call in Faith and Chance
and we Trust in the Moon and we wait
And we wait
And we writhe
And we wait
For a sign, for a clue, for a hint that it's safe
But Love's raw gaze is never safe!
It's a raging ocean and a tranquil sea
It's holding space for a You while honoring Me
It's a dizzying dance on the edge of a razor sharp knife
And then if we fell...
If we fell
Extreme love, ripped out hearts
Bent and broken into splinters and shards
Recreated again and again, as the Sun and the Moon in the sky that we drink into our very bones and skin every night!
And we breathe, into knowing
These glimpses of perfection that are gone too soon
Because to Live is to feel, to Love, to risk, and to bleed
But Now, but here and Now
Growing into wholeness, this womanhood, this thoroughly scarred and
It's a want, not a need, I am already all I desire to Be
All the while, holding fast to my hopes and Spring-time dreams
that are also Me, yes, these are also Me,
as sure as the Sun, the Sky, the Birds, the Trees
An awakened woman will dance only with those
who can heal on their own, in the way she has learned:
painfully, slowly, deliberately, energetically
We must hear our own heart-songs, first,
before we attempt to make music together
Despite our hunger, despite our thirst
So, I'm finally getting around to telling this story:
Her name is Ilana Limoni. She's a local library patron, a sweet soul, and a woman with a lifetime of stories and...art. If you Google her name you might find some blogs about her needlework. She's devoted endless hours to scripture (The Torah) and to visualizing and creating her masterpieces, which are wall-panel sized creations of epic scope.
She showed us (a co-worker and I) to the table where she prepared lunch: a simple German potato salad, with peas, pickles (yum), eggs...it was delicious and light. Served on romaine leaves with cherry tomatoes. Lovely.
Later, she showed us around. At first, the jaded control freak inside me started to rumble..."we have to get back to work, we punch a time clock!" Raaaaa... shush, I said to myself. Surrender...
The more we gazed, the more transfixed I became. She showed us her easel, her worktable, where she conceptualized each piece, the images, the Hebrew characters that would tell the stories that she wanted to convey. So many of the epic parables that we grew up with in the West, these grand and lasting stories: the stone tablets, Moses parting the Red Sea and the Exodus...the detail was impeccable and her devotion was touching and astounding. This woman is a true artist. A slow, deliberate, meticulous, and deeply inspired artist. A master at her craft. Some of these pieces should be in a museum of some kind.
In the other rooms, were some non-religious pieces. She offered some of her pieces to my co-worker and I. (I should mention that we help her get books and have known this woman for quite some time, there's a friendship here. It's not normal for us to visit the homes of our patrons.) Anyway. I saw this piece, the one pictured above, and I was smitten. Drawn in. Women and changing seasons? Um....yes, please. Oh my Goddess! Me, up and down. I loved it and I was grateful to accept it. It will hang in my bedroom.
The experience blew me away. Here was a woman that I spoke to on the phone, she asked after my son, often gave generous gifts on his behalf...and behind closed doors...she is this artist. I was blown away.
How often...do we take people for granted? Not knowing what happens in their daily lives, what and who they are, in their private time. What might they truly think and ponder, what might they be creating. What gifts lay hidden, beneath the surface.
"See the Light in others, and treat them as if that's all you see..." - Wayne Dyer
I always say that each of us has some special gift, maybe more than one, if we're truly blessed. And something happens. If we're not raised in an environment that supports free expression and exploration of the Self, we often stuff these gifts down, where they become hidden. Pushed and shoved into a box, smaller and smaller until they're barely noticeable. Because sometimes, it just hurts too much to feel the desire to create and the inner knowing of more, with no freedom to pursue such things. So, we get into school and we're expected to conform. To fit. To quiet our inner impulses to see the world differently and spit it back out; digested and reformed into the way that we see it and understand it. We're dissuaded from a path that might foster growth and the celebration of our gifts and creativity by those who were wrapped in their own fears and ideas of Life. And so another cycle continues...go to school, memorize facts, don't question anyone, and then get out and exhaust yourself making money for someone else, savoring the weekends, longing for those getaways. And becoming dependent on a cyclic system that keeps us in one place. Work, eat, sleep, spend. Etc...
And in the "rat race" as they call it, in this blind stupor, this routine, that we've become accustomed to living in, day in and day out...we lose that...spark. That thing, that tingle that sets us on fire, from within. That thing that connects us, so deeply, to something bigger, something vast, something unseen and magical and powerful and passionate. That thing that makes our eyes open just a bit wider and the hairs on our necks stand up. That makes our heart beat just a bit faster, at the idea of being able to pour ourselves into it, uninterrupted. That thing that pulses, deep, deep inside, and we just know that others are waiting for it, that only we can shape it in our particular way, and share it. The thing that we can lose ourselves in, lose time in, and find ourselves in after a matter of deconstruction. Our...art. And it doesn't have to be visual art. I'm talking about song, dance, sculpture, writing, poetry, painting, speaking, film, photography...needlework. Anything, really. Anyone who can imagine a thing and pull that idea from the ether and manifest it, into physical form, in the present....is an artist. A creator. A force of all that is natural and vital and primal and pure.
Because at our core, beneath the busyness and struggle and complaint and rushing back and forth, beneath the bills and obligations and appointments and people-pleasing and noise...we are creators. Way back, before industrialization, before becoming so "civilized," human beings had a psycho-spiritual connection with their home...our planet. And we celebrated the Sun and Moon, the tides, the stars...oh, the stars. The Gods, in the Heavens. The elements: Fire, Water, Air, Earth...plus, the all-encompassing Spirit, the energy that holds us all together ...made up all that is Life.
"Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else." - Leonardo DaVinci
We are amazing creatures simmering with all sorts of potential to feel, hear, and see our world and everything, everyone in it...with the eyes of God, with the eyes of Creation, itself. It's already within us, sometimes deep, so deep, that we forget. Sometimes it takes a shaking, of sorts, a vigorous change of perspective, a world flipped upside down...in order to find that spark. An awakening. A reckoning, a moment of realization, that yes! Yes! There is more, I am more!
You are. We are. All of us. And being there, sitting with people, and living in a way that encourages them to explore, within, and look for that spark? Is becoming a life's quest and purpose for me, in and of itself.
I remember when driving back from my failed Boston adventure with my father (the historian), and the epic conversations we had. Remembering...as a species...how much we've created. In the history of the human being. Look around you. At anything. At the device in your hands, right now. Once upon a time? Sand, maybe.
Imagine a world, raw and vast and teeming with unimaginable dangers and beauty at every turn. Unexplored. Brand new. Raw materials, only. Earth. Water. Air. Fire. Fire meant heat. Heat could alchemize and transform things. We could melt things, cook things, change things at a molecular level. Imagine having to take sand, mud, water...and create all the synthetics and materials that you'd need to build an iPhone. With a microchip, to make it work. And an unbreakable rumble-cover. And the cute little decals on the back. Could you possibly fathom how to do that? With a handful of dirt? No. Unlikely. We're too far removed from our innate capacity to create new things out of raw materials and inspired ideas.
We're too busy. Buried beneath sound, clutter, routines, and obligations. We've forgotten who we really are.
I don't expect anyone to duck out of society and abandon everything that they know and love, to go live a la Lennie and George, "off the fat of the land." But I will say, that carving out time to hear ourselves? To allow new ideas and inspiration to bubble forth? To allow time for crafting, creating, inventing, theorizing...creating time, for the New? Is life-changing. Even the thought. Even entertaining and holding that thought, "I will create time alone, and allow my Self...to take the floor. I will spend time with just me, for me. And see what happens." Just in that declaration, you are making a choice. And that choice creates a ripple that tells the rest of You, that this is important. And all the little beings and systems and ideas and energy that make up You...begin to get to work, in creating that time for you. Sometimes, even that, just making Time...is a first step. And it's huge.
And it's absolutely worth taking. You are worth that time. And i'm sure, I know, that beneath everything that you believe about who you must be and how you must show up, there is a magic within you that wants to express something. Something that no one else, not one of us, can. Not how you can, because it's yours. Alone. And the more we let it out, the more rises up, and wants out...too. Choosing to honor your creativity sets a new standard for how You do You. It builds momentum. And you get to step out there on that ledge, over and again, a new journey, each time.
More and more alive, each time. Until that nearly damp still smoldering ember becomes a burning flame, that can light up all of humanity, eventually. I believe this. I believe it truly is contagious. And I believe we are underway, toward a new way of being in this world. Awakened, alight, alive, inspired, compassionate, honest. Toward a collective good, an evolving populace, that will raise up all of us, into a thriving future. Not an unbalanced utopia, but a balanced and healthy world, that represents the best of all of our divergent ideas. Brought together, for a greater good, that serves all of humanity.
Big dreams, yes.
Where clean waters have the freedom to flow and nourish, wherever they meander. With towering, cleansing trees and greens and lush forests, to filter and heal our outdoor spaces. With restored and nourished soil, that grows vibrant living food, in a way that makes sense, for all of us. For all of us. It's a huge planet. There is enough. If we can start to shift how we live on it. And these are the waves that we see, toward focus of the Self. Energy imprint, healthy lifestyles, knowledge of Self and less co-dependence, compassion, caring, and a desire to serve in some way. A longing, a deep-seated need to uplift for the greater good. And it's loaded, for sure. Because we are so divided, with the remnants of old ideas that don't serve anymore. Not where we're going.
It's epic, really.
There is me. And then my family. Friends. Community. Town, State. And somehow...we've all jumped to a worldview, a global village. While countries deteriorate and fight, within. Something is missing. We need to focus on our countries, so that each limb of this current working (?) surface-built system called Life on Earth can flourish and heal, even as we heal, underneath all of that. Healing in the physical, in real-time, at the country level, and then participating, together, at a global level, will help usher in a healthy and sustainable global village faster than depending on individuals, even working collaboratively. We must all work on multiple levels, not just in energy, not just on the ground. It's both. Together. The connective energetic tissue and the physical manifestations that lead us in body and daily living. It's both.
Just my thoughts, of course. But I do know that it's all connected. We don't get to skip things because they're hard. The hard is where the work is. it is my wish to work toward rehabilitating and uplifting the American Dream, in a way that is reverent and respectful, of this land's first people. I don't think we did it right the first time. I think our current leadership is a huge wake-up call to get our shit together. To restore the values, ideals, freedoms, creative pursuits and inventions...that came with a New Frontier. This land is great one, for many reasons. Regardless of who is in charge, I LOVE this country. I love the initial idea of it: a land free of persecution, where new and emerging ideas could flourish. The United States of America, was in and of itself, an idea, brought into being my rebels and visionary thinkers. Bells ringing? And it's still a good one, if we could fix what we broke when we first got started. And we broke a lot of stuff, we stole from people, we hurt people. We just did it wrong. All around. I just want us to do our part, in trying to get it right. For our children's children. And our planet. That's all. No biggie, really. <3
I took myself on a date, tonight.
All my friends, grown adults all, have been raving about Emma Watson in Beauty and the Beast. I had to go. I was always a big fan of the Disney films, through childhood and beyond. And I think women are depicted in better and stronger ways, as the years go by.
The music, I knew by heart, mostly. The songs from the animated film are here, Alan Menken and Howard Ashman, with Tim Rice's lyrics. Songs from the Broadway musical are included as well. A lot of the original came through well in live action.
I won't post a whole review here, but what I wanted to press on, what struck me most, was the... Life. The magic.
Without giving away too much, we should all know from this classic tale, that there is a castle with inanimate objects... that speak, and walk, and interact. And perform musical numbers at dinner time.
What I found profoundly beautiful, was was the moment when the last petal fell and the manor was suspended in darkness. The once "alive," however preposterous, objects that lived in the castle... had become inanimate once again. A chair is a chair, and that's it, right? But once it exudes essence, energy, charisma, empathy, growth... a chair is not just a chair. It is a being. A live being. And when something alive goes dark, it's powerful. Energy changes. When living energy leaves matter, it's felt. We feel it when loved ones pass on, some of us know just when the energy leaves the body. Why not when the last gorgeous wild animal of its kind goes extinct? Why not when another majestic rainforest is plowed down for industry? Why not when sacred tribal land is raped for transporting oil?
It was a perfect depiction of our Earth, its elements... nature... and how alive She is. If people can connect with and relate to a talking tea cup on a movie screen, and feel heartbroken at its silence... why can't we feel the same toward a sacred natural site? Toward our coral reefs? Are they not...alive? Or other human beings, who aren't quite the same as we are, on the outside. Or animals. Or anything at all in this existence, because it's all made of energy, which is Life.
Life force, this magical, connective tissue, runs through and tethers us all to one another. From me to you to the forest to the sea to the pulsing Sun and the stars beyond, that feed and heal us all. How powerful that is. To be aware and present to witness such a sacred, divine, force of nature that brings Life, movement, growth.
In the case of Beauty and the Beast, the people are cursed and turned into these objects, which is what animates them. But let's consider something, in real-life, for a moment.
Consider, that humans and say... oak trees... share some DNA. Which, scientifically, makes us relatives. Yes, we all come from the same stuff, originally. And it's all energy. All the time, new discoveries are made that tell us plants can communicate. That our heart's radiate energy and vibration. That energy responds to different tones and sounds and emotions, in different ways.
The film was just a lovely reminder, that all of it... our home, our planet, its objects, its creatures big and small, its waters and air and starlight and dirt.. all of it is brimming with Life. Energy. The exciting discovery, although a long-held and muted belief for some, is how energy can change its behavior based upon the attention it receives.
Is it a coincidence that in all the fairytales... Love wins? True love's kiss, or healing one's heart, or overcoming obstacles, to save... Love. Love is said to be the most powerful form of energy that there is. Love heals. Love revives. Love fights for justice. Love lifts the weak. Love shelters the poor. Love explores and seeks discovery for the greater good. Goodness, charity, altruism, giving, inspiring, supporting... these are all forms of Love. And the Light the poets write about about, perhaps, is Love. Love unconditional. Love is the balm of the living and when we know and act on this idea, the energies that are affected by Love, change in its embrace. Its attention. Just as the opposite is true.
If energy is this sensitive, and alters its behavior in response to the attention it receives, then perhaps one of the greatest gifts that we give one another, is our loving attention. Because if it's all energy, and we are all connected, through the same force, then we already are this Love.
I've rambled a bit, as I do. But I guess what I'm saying is that maybe John was right, in more ways than I understood as a teenager:
"All you need...is Love."