freedom

"And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.
      And thus your freedom when it loses it's fetters, becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom."  ...khalil gibran


   I participated in the nritta sadhana 8 palms workshop this past weekend.  This time I was not struggling so much with learning brand new movements, which opened the possibility of allowing the activity to work it's way more deeply.  For several weeks I have been taking triphala for the expressed intent of helping me to remove ama impurities which stand in the way of deeper progress along this path.  Which is intriguingly goalless.
   Anyway, after the second session, I was indeed in a cleansing process.  From midnight until 2 am I was purging from both ends.  I awoke very weak, but with a remembered sweetness.  One of the things that became unearthed was my natural delight in the 4 leggeds, which I have unfortunately become somewhat numb to.
      I can feel that the natural inclination is toward greater growth and that along the way, I continuously unconsciously create knots which must be untied later...and so on.  At this moment, I take most comfort in knowing that ultimate escape from this spiral is most likely a delusion, which means I am free to be as light as I can be in making these mistakes and creating this karma.  And I can quickly forgive myself and others for our involvement in it.    
   The feminine wisdom in me knows that there is no time except for now and that "things are going to be so great" comes from an unhealthy masculine derangement.  And it is one that I myself have been trapped in often.  And that's the way it goes...........

Secret

In the web inside my Self I am hiding a thing.  A bright beautiful lovely thing. 
    I am saving it. 
  If I cry too much it becomes more brilliant. 
   This mystery is holding the split parts in connection like a taffy magnet. 
     "It's almost time."
It's like a whisper to the race horse at the starting gate. 
  Oh, we are boxed in now,  the rider and the mount, but we are prancing.  We are collected.  We are about to run.

raven

Across my path today flew a black raven with eyes so blue they were black, or so black they were blue.   I watched her eyes as she flew here in the pretend world of Sydney...which is like maybe every city maybe every where.  At least to me it is.  They all fall under one category, which is "That Place In Which I Do Not Belong"
    "Her eyes", said the voice in my head who is Not Me..."they are other-worldy"  But I replied, "No"
   Because they are, of course, of this world.  What other world could make such a thing as the black-blue iridescence of raven's eyes?
      And me, I am of this world too.
 Every cell, every thought, every ounce.
   I am the walking, thinking, eating earth.
In the forest, perching on a branch up in a tree, where I can barely move or stretch out
      I feel no restlessness.
 Inside a small dark sapling and peat hut surrounded by only the wild
    I feel no claustrophobia.
With legs wrapped around the body of a horse, I feel no longing.  

Today, the dead leaves on the dirty ground exhaled into my face and I
    Felt Her.
Then, all you had to do was mention a longing for the jungle and
  I cannot bear it.
How sweet and terrible to know you exist and that your home is the same as mine
  And that we neither of us can be with that home, or each other.
True hell is separation.
 And how we burn!

empty

I spent today feeling good.  Sweet space.
   Not because of anything going my way especially, just because it's nice to be alive, or something like that.  All these worries and fears and disappointments that have haunted me lately are all still there, unchanged.  But I feel perfectly bouyant with them all around, being what they are.
     As I went to the train station after work tonight, to get on the same trains, to wait on the same platforms, to buy another bus ticket and ride the same route again and get off and walk the same streets home to the same little room.....well, I didn't want to go.  I felt like I was walking back into my little cage.  I don't feel despair about it so much as a rising understanding that I am really really not doing what I am meant to be doing.
                    When everything has fallen to quiet, I can hear the calling like a bell, or like a hum.

Dear sweet Sophia, please come close and lay with me.  Show me a clear vision.