Sometimes the magnitude of beauty one finds in Montana can be crushing -- reducing one to feel small and insignificant, the way some people might feel while sitting under the night sky with billions of stars overhead.
That's when it hit me like a ton of bricks -- whenever I find something rare, precious, special, perfect, I tend to grab it and cling to it with a frightening ferocity. Whether it's a relationship I treasure, a person I care about, a perfectly formed sand dollar, or something else that strikes my fancy, my greed in preserving and protecting it can be suffocating at best, damaging to a breaking point at worst.
I found myself in the moment, while standing in Tadasana. In chanting Om, I found a sense of community, In Child's Pose, I felt support, In Bridge Pose I felt strength, in Happy Baby I found happiness, in Downward Facing Dog I found stability, in Vinyasa flow I found a source of release, in my first handstand I felt free, in Tree Pose I found life, in Butterfly Pose I found openness, in Savasana I found lightness, and when I brought my hands to heart center, I found love within myself.
We were one.
And yet, you haunt me still.
Leave me in peace now. Let my heart rest a little now.
Let my limbs know the world without you now.
Let me dance alone for a time, without your fingers spindling my thoughts.
Let me free.
When we first arrive, we are plump and juicy expressions of the divine mystery, still perceiving things that adults would tell us are 'not there', still in tune to the pulse of life -- we are it. Methodically, we are indoctrinated to living in a certain bandwidth called 'reality'.
Yes, you are in for a lot of heartbreak in the years ahead. You will live through it. You will love again. One of the greatest things about you is your big, wide, all-encompassing, compassionate heart. Yes, betrayal hurts, but you will be okay.
I was first drawn to Shakti Sunfire while visiting a friend’s home in the countryside of beautiful Sweden. I didn’t know of her then nor was I told her name, but I can trace the pieces back to this powerful, creative and earthy abode.
Oh, how the connecting of the Outer Limits works! A dimension we all bravely yet unconsciously seep in and out of, and is available any moment that we allow our inner dialogue to harmonize with the outer.
I then heard of her One Hoop One Love (to which I am signed up to), the Mystery School and the whale-watching in Hawaii. How could I not know or in some way be connected to this divinely rebellious, magical woman?
And then she arrived at Rebelle Society, and brought in her medicinal bag, a story of the elements, of feminine power, of brave stems and colorful petals and she offered us a glimpse into her fertile Universe...
I write this for those who need a boost over the fence. Who need to know there are five fingers waiting for them, always, to give them the support and extra push they need to say Goodbye to victimhood and Hello to strength and rebirth and power. I write this for those who are alone in the dark, knees pulled tightly to their chest, hair hiding their eyes. Those who have been paralyzed through no fault of their own. Those who are stuck and suffering in that stuckness. Those who just need a sign that it's not only okay, but absolutely time to move on and reclaim themselves. All of themselves. Their sex, their strength, their power. Those who need to hear that it's not only alright, but essential to be seen and heard.
They are people who were touched by the gods -- real and false alike -- and survived it. Any person with true vision could see the fingerprints, the slash marks, the place where the lightening stuck them. They smell like a thundering sky.
What’s the point?
On the Yoga mat, my belly twisted over my thigh bone, my thigh bone burning like hell, my hands held in a prayer, shaking, sweating. My breath so loud the whole room can hear it: in, out, in, out.
Another rejection letter. Thank you very much for your time and effort; however, we regret to inform you…
Facebook. 489 friends. Less than her. More than him. Status updates crafted like flash fiction, all those tiny stories dipped in half-truths. Trolling through pictures of diamond rings, baby bumps, straight white teeth, girls who can’t possibly be that pretty. Instagram. Twitter. Tinder. Text messages.
An inbox full of tens of thousands of electronic messages. How my fingertips touch keyboards instead of skin. How I type instead of talk.
The last five years — well, almost anyway. Four years, eight months, and an odd number of days....
Slowly, over time, I've learned a lot about nutrition. I know now what my body needs and what it doesn't. I have also learned that sometimes, even though I know that something isn't great for me, I eat it anyway. Sigh. But the consequences no longer feel worth it.