You no longer have to rely on a mule. Getting out of your zip code simply means to stop associating yourself and your consciousness with what is nearby. Even though technology has evolved and we are all capable of escaping our surroundings in some way, our consciousness has not figured this out yet.
The universe is so beautifully designed that no matter how accomplished we become, there is always somewhere new to grow. Just watch nature. It is relentlessly growing, changing, shifting, dying, letting go and being born again.
I could not pretend that I didn't love him, nor could I ignore it. I couldn't alter my feeling, nor change my emotions to feel something else, no matter how much I had wanted to. Of course I didn't want to love him anymore, but I could not deny the moments when I yearned for his soul.
Behead Ego, Illusion, and Fear; they will fold from the force of your intention, from the ferocity of your love. Use their bodies as food for your worms and let their blood moisten the soil under your feet.
I live, dance, breathe, write and love inside the space that resides in the between. It is my abiding fate as a human being. If I can attain that, I'll be as enlightened as I will ever be here on the ground -- on this pulsating, erupting, imploding, tenacious, rumbling, resilient ground that I love.
That's why I keep going back.
When the world tells me
that the home I live in and breathe in
that it's scarred,
fleshy existence should be shaped,
contoured and covered up.
Here I'm taught that life goes on.
It saved me.
Every spot on Earth speaks, and when it speaks to us we must go there and listen. And we must dance. When we respond to the call, we are gifted with a new piece of the truth. And when we dance sacredness into the spot that beckoned to us, we are offering our truth in return.
In the face of life's calls to action, do we close ourselves off, or allow them to open us? Do we choose to bloom, or cling tight to our bud? Can we find the courage to unfold and let the elements of life touch us?
Whatever nuances our partner may present, even those we abhor, we must love them all. For without any one of this myriad list of ingredients, the one to whom we open our heart, the complete entity we have fallen in love with, would cease to exist.
I felt the earth
for the first time,
through your eyes.
I felt nature
scraping at skin
as I tried to pull myself towards you.
I am going to help you.
Inching along to the sound of your sobs.
My tears pouring back
to the ground for you.
A rain quenching the desert thirst.
Did she have a little machine in there?
Some metallic cogwork piece
that could empower
that frail deer-like body so?
Did she know how to turn it off?
It had to require a good amount of energy.
A fair amount of courage.
Kino landed buoyantly in a flawless Hanumanasana like a golden champagne bubble. She turned toward the stunned onlookers and, with grace and equanimity, displayed her phosphorescent Cheshire cat grin. The blinding ivory radiance of her Kinosmile conveyed a strong and confident: "Told ya so. I'm Kino. Booyah!"
If love is a destination of regular heartbreaks, loneliness, wasted tears, and constant fear, even when you are in the arms of the one you love, then maybe you shouldn't rush to it. Maybe, like time heals wounds, you should give love some time.
Poetry speaks to a hyper-awareness of language and its power to recreate a moment.
A poet emerges as someone who sees and speaks in this world with a particular awareness.
The nature of this awareness shifts across different times and locations.
It is extremely difficult to walk away from your own assumptions, and from your own memories, but if you don’t, they will begin to own you. I stood for a long moment, and as voices that had been mine, pleaded and promised and wept, I took a step away, then another.
I want to be clear, The SCAR Project is not about breast cancer and The Unknown Soldier is not about war. They are about many things. The images can be uncomfortable for the viewer. It forces us to confront our fears and inhibitions about life, death, sexuality, sickness, relationships, etc. I once read it described as unflinching. Reality is not always pretty. This is reality. Let's address it. Both The SCAR Project and The Unknown Soldier present an opportunity to open a dialogue about issues we are not necessarily comfortable with... and in the case of The Unknown Soldier, responsible for.
Over the years -- before, then during -- and after my formal education in natural medicine, I have to'd-and-fro'd with my opinions on the topic of the nature and call-to-action through a woman’s menstrual cycle.
Rejection is an experience. That's all. When we choose to embrace it as an experience, as opposed to a measurement of our worth (because it totally isn't), we begin to view it as an opportunity for growth and self-improvement.
Living my life to extremes,
making great waves in the world.
Being an all-around fabulous girl.
Does it shock you?
To know that I’m shedding my clothes
and revealing myself in this way?
In essence, you see,
I am just being me…
I'd forgotten I could send my love directly to me -- not my reflection of me in you -- but to me, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes and through my gut and liver and frostbitten fingertips. Let my love nourish me with as much urgency and power and healing as I used to channel through you.
Our excited, over-stimulated minds fed by our caffeine and sugar-riddled bodies race to the eye of the storm in a culture-centric gold rush. We are driven by capitalism but fueled by an innate human creativity we still cannot price tag the source of.
I internalized the repression of women and repressed femininity within myself. I cultivated this repression as my armor. I protected my femininity that was so often attacked, insulted and abused by repressing it and replacing it with a dysfunctional, acquired, masculinized version of myself.
I still vividly remember my last office job. It was about 10 years ago and I still cringe when I think about having to drag my butt out of bed at 6:30 am to drown in the stench of morning breath and cramped quarters during my subway commute to work. After an hour's commute, I was greeted with nine torturous hours of what felt like hell.
We are all a united consciousness trying to survive and persevere in this wonderful world we live. Our external shell is of little significance to who we are. Once we erase our external definitions we are one in consciousness. It is how we choose to live in this consciousness that makes us ultimately beautiful.
Gratefulness is found when we follow the music of life’s messy honesty and enlightened tensions, its touching surprises and startling paradoxes, its bittersweet preciousness, which like an accordion, we draw out for ourselves, unfolding through daily moments of thankfulness, approached with full presence of mind and open heart.
Magic is everywhere and we need to honor its light to shine our path not keep us in the dark, in our place. Life is a dance and I need to keep moving to feel the rhythm, enjoy the pulse if I'm going to be able to spread my wings and flit and fly like a butterfly.
There is one key to change that does not get discussed nearly often enough and that is: personal power. We need the right amount of personal power to make choices that lead to a healthy, happy, joyful and purpose-driven life.
You feel the sense of cold betrayal that rises when the person you trust most with your thoughts and views, with your strengths and weaknesses, tears you down with a few ill-chosen sentences, judgments that don’t even seem to have a basis. You feel blind-sided, attacked.
People change. What you wanted out of life two years ago or ten may be completely different now, and that's ok. You're evolving. Your soul feeds on change, sometimes it screams for it. You can't be yourself if you're always conforming. You don't honor your soul or your calling by keeping your head down and letting someone else's 'needs' dictate your behavior.
This life can be a beast.
It’s very easy to allow ourselves to get lost in our daily sorrows and frustrations.
Trite as this may sound, one of my favorite ways to navigate is to pull back and look for beauty in the little things.
If by pursuing your story you are inflicting real harm on yourself or others, it is a false value. If you are pursuing a story solely to bring pleasure to yourself or others, it's false. To the contrary, a story that solely avoids pain or protects others from pain is false too. The rest is yours to figure out.
My prose became confused and awkward, peppered with finicky phrases and stilted sentences that didn’t taste quite right on my tongue. It was uncomfortable. They fell out of my mouth before I could catch them. I just sat there and watched as they splattered onto the page...
I am going to come back into the world of everything -- happening-all-the-time, and I am going to stop when I need to and be kind to myself even when the critics are not and wave a flag for the thousands of other people on this beautiful and fleeting planet who are struggling to stay healthy whilst meeting the ridiculous demands of our non-stop modern life style, regardless of whether they are making art or not.
You know that everything up until now has been leading to this moment in time. All the transformation, all the dark, mucky, sludgy, messy, chaos and shitstorms that you’ve been weathering have led you here. And now ALL you have to do is open, receive, and allow your soul’s work to come through you. So you freeze...
I want to be connected to you. Being connected to you gives me a conduit for connecting to myself, and therefore to the world. I feel that switch go on for me when I’m in your presence, which turns on my ability to love myself.
Your eyes find mine,
and the sincerity is so palpable
that it renders me incapable
of keeping these confessions
from escaping my mouth.
I've loved you so
for quite some time now,
and more now than ever.
"We all have at least two sides. The world we live in is a world of opposites. And the trick is to reconcile those opposing things. I've always liked both sides. In order to appreciate one you have to know the other. The more darkness you can gather up, the more light you can see too." ~ David Lynch
I am a human fucking being who was in love with a man. A friend. Someone who offered me something -- his heart. So I fucking took it. Why the fuck wouldn't I? He offered it to me on a silver shiny fucking platter. With a cupcake.
By Sammy Hart
I don’t think I’ve ever told you that I love you, but I really really love you.
I think you’re beautiful, every single part of you. Every curve and every scar a perfectly placed piece on your canvas. Yes, even those pieces that you judge too quickly, I can’t help but smile when I see them. Those pieces make you you and those pieces make you beautiful.
You asked which piece I love the most, but it’s hard for me to choose because the whole of you is even greater then the sum of your parts. Your strengths and weaknesses, all of them have combined together to create the most perfectly imperfect piece of art — you!
Yes, I’m talking about you!
I know our relationship is far from perfect, and I know in the past I did most of the decision-making in terms of what you needed. Please understand it was difficult for me to hear...
On the one hand, we need a certain amount of faith in life in order to keep moving through it with a modicum of hope. We need to have faith in something to propel us through a world that’s frequently harsh, unforgiving and unkind, and full of way too much inexplicable suffering.
I realized that I had fallen for 'it'. That I had bought into what the media was trying to get me to believe: that I was not enough. That my body was lacking and therefore that I was lacking. Every day, images of 'perfect' women were thrown in my face and I believed that they were real. We've all been hearing more and more of this lately, these photoshopped pictures of already gorgeous women thinned out and airbrushed to create an unattainable beauty standard. We all know the repercussions and the toll it has taken on our self-esteem and overall happiness, so I won't repeat what others have already said.
A year ago, after several months of subtle edging out, I found myself unceremoniously exiled from a hive that had felt like home. The notion of kindred spirits I had held cupped so carefully in my hands was knocked to the ground, and I was left to wander an abyss of no redemption.