To be a woodland sprite,
relaxed in spirit, reborn in song, a day, a night, a tender touch and everything is joy. "Writing is the best way to answer your own questions. And the clearer the question, the easier the answer will come to you." -Julie Newmar, "Conscious Catwoman" "When we find our core certainty within, then we no longer look for certainty outside. The unfathomable nature of the ever-changing world ceases to be a source of anxiety and instead is a source of joy and adventure." ~Deepak Chopra "11:11 - These represent four centres of consciousness: your own soul, Gaia, the solar logos and the soul of the Galaxy. Humanity has been out of alignment with the some or all of these centres for too long and that realignment is now beckoning." - Chris Bourne at Wake Up World more from Chris Bourne: Surrender to the flow "I share this possibility not to spread fear, but to spread awareness. Some in spiritual circles would likely say: “we should rather manifest the reality we want, one that is safe and loving”. However to me this is quite delusional. We’re an intricate part of a much greater system to which we’re being invited to surrender. Loving thoughts may make people feel better yes, but they’re not going to change the overall directional movement. For too long humanity (aided by Opposing Consciousness) has been manifesting illusionary realities – eddy currents in the flow – which are now being unwound. Yes it’s surrender that I’m inviting. I’d say we need to surrender many things. In particular, we need to surrender the idea that today will likely be just like yesterday, Because in the future that is opening in front of us the only certainty will be uncertainty. But there’s absolutely no need to fear this. Rather the other way around. When we’re locked in the mind, planning and strategising what we’re going to do on that tablet pc or not-so-smart-phone, we’re much less in the heart, feeling the flow of the field and what now wants to happen. What is benevolence inviting of us? For each of us there will be a divinely lighted path, helping us confront all our distortions, that we may peel them away and unfold the spiritual wings of our destiny." *---------------* Finally, someone who isn't preaching only positivity and manifesting positivity, positively. He is awake to the notion that we are "invited to surrender" to something bigger, and we cannot be delusional in thinking we can fix things will our loving thoughts. Yes, we must think positively and with lots of love. But, there needs to be included some sort of acceptance of all things... both positive and negative... something to which we can't even distribute definition. “Love doesn’t need reason. It speaks from the irrational wisdom of the heart.” - Deepak Chopra “Love yourself first and everything else falls into line. Your really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world.” - Lucille Ball I don't need to hold on to any material thing, maybe a work of art or two, painted by my Mother. Maybe a photograph or two, shot by my Dad. Maybe I'd like to hold onto my words, my dance, my song - and even that, I can let go. All I'd like to see is more love and movement. Earth's healing and human beings' authentic hope. Who would grovel around in the dirt and the muck for a few decades, scratching around for an ever dwindling piece of illusionary security, in exchange for just one day of divine, interconnected freedom? - Chris Bourne What has become more apparent to me, is I somehow fear the power and majesty of truth and ascension. I fear change and discomfort, even though I have lived my life in preparation for it; and even though I usually believe in welcoming change. After all, it's the only constant. I have trained myself to not be attached, to get up and go at any moment, to not set goals in the name of false security, but to follow my heart and soul, even when that's meant seeming "failure" and lack of "success." Maybe there's enough success in my heart, even in moments of weakness. Maybe there's enough love to excuse it all. May the heart be as it wants. It longs to live and pour its joy on others... it wants to burst sometimes from seeming pain, but again, it's just perception, or illusion, or everything, or more. It's more than I can understand. It's more than words can seal, it's something so untouchable and so unreal... As unreal as something can be. A non-entity. A non-thing. Not existing even in the smallest of strings and fibers of matter and energy. An absoluteness, but an open question. "For God to make love, For the divine alchemy to work, The pitcher needs a still cup." ~Hafiz
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Maybe right now it's just not accompanying me, the sometimes sweet inner voice of enjoyment, comfort and equanimity. It's ok. I can hang without. For a bit. Hoping to reconsider, over and over again, how we've lost our way before, how we bend and sway. Forthright, always within and surrounding. On "daylight savings" day, it was nika-savings - I was sideswiped. As a gift, I survived. Many today died.* But I survived. Was hit. Car door dented. Nerves shot. Shock, and instant lessons. Gratitude. Later that evening, breathing the air, reading poems, walking a dog, tea with a friend, correspondences, dreams and ideas, smells and sensations. Bliss it is, to be alive. Love for a man. Faith. Torment. Sweet song. Idle longing. Change of perspective. Change of angle. sideswiped | change | so very deeply grateful | to be alive *by "many today died" I meant it as generally, in the world, that is. not just by car accident or impact or sideswipe. But I was sideswiped. Vulnerable and stupid outside the car door on a narrow street. Reaching for a bag from the back seat. I could've been crushed. But I'm still here. So grateful. Recharged. Emotionally a bit bruised but getting over it. The day had been a Runyon Canyon yoga morning followed by a short hike and ocean at Topanga Beach and talking with and writing to dear friends. So very deeply grateful to be alive. *------------* The vulnerability of this human flesh is intoxicating. I'm dizzy just thinking of the split second. The loudness and scratching. Irreversible. A gift. A lesson. I'm still here. Humbled. Grounded. About-face. Side-swipe. Typing is the easiest form of getting it down for me. And I need to get it down, easily. No strength to write manually. No energy to use a pen on paper. Pressing keyboard buttons, I can manage. And even still, it's a bit hard at the moment. My aura is shrunken today. Gosh that sounds silly. But there are massive solar flares today. Biggest in five years, says NASA. I think I can feel them. Gosh that sounds strange. But I've been meditating on my solar plexus/third chakra all week and it's extra sensitive. It's yellow, and it's solar, and it can detect the sun's extra-long waves, reaching all the way to... me. And deeper still into the Earth and through its core and out the other side and on into space, and I don't know where else, and I know I sound insane, but there, I got it down. Just a thought. A sensation. Day started with a difficult rising from the bed (morning dreams held me captive), a reluctant trudge to yoga class, a barely-huffed-and-puffed-through class, an afternoon-long nap, and more laziness and moodiness in the evening. And sure, I brought it on myself. And I ain't even complaining of it now, just marking it so that I can remember the unproductive stupor for future reference. The numbness and heaviness in my bones, and buzz in my nerves and the fizz in my aura... it must be the solar storm right? What's it telling me? I want to be back to my daily-meditating self striving for higher consciousness. I am still there, even if I let go at times. Maybe when I pray so hard and hold mudras and meditate to the ocean (beautiful beach day back on Monday), it's expected that a day or two of lows come along... Polarity. Balance. Light and darkness. Shadow self. Shadow world. I know the goal is equanimity and consistency. But I welcome all polarities of spiritual experience. The flare officially reaches us in five hours. It's a full moon in four. Argued a bit with parents today and I shed tears. I question my motives and actions everyday but I also practice gratitude and positive affirmation... and visualization for a beautiful future. What really does it hold in store? Yes we are to create it. But what is it that we are going to create? Really. Honestly. In which directions are we headed? "World War III" ? Enlightenment and ascension? What the heck? So many ideas and projections. What are mine? Beauty, love, peace. Even if I can't maintain it within my self and family at times? Yes. Even still. That's the world I strive for. How? I'm too lazy. There's too much in me I just don't know what to do with, how to use, how to transform into... what? What is it I need to do? What am I not seeing? "The Third Eye," oil on canvas, by Yelena Chemerisov, my mother. Please visit her site! www.verarey.comEpic booming whisper nightly dawns on me and mine. Earth floats on, around and round, again, and ever reaching. Somehow territory loses grip the shadows lie the crescent dips, I'm missing something but here I am. I know the way and I stand ready. My dear cousin Oleg. Moved to America and changed his mind in one week. All his things on our living room floor, and postal tape wrapping loudly while the cat, little baby Bella, snuck around sniffing the looming change. Rather, un-change. A return. A good decision I think. California is paradise, and yet. Last night I set my intention to go to Odessa this year. The Ukraine. Oleg being back in Kiev and Katya my father's granddaughter (not to mention his daughter, my half-sister, Sveta) being in Odessa. And me, being here in California. Now. But wanting so deeply to be there, at some point quite soon. Within this year. It's what I will be working towards. I do not want to lose sight of this goal. Don't want to let myself down on this one, as I have so many times before in my life. Oleg showed us some photos he took in Odessa.... our old street... Dad said it looked the same. I want to go there. Just to stand on that ground. Walk the Potemkin steps and breathe the Black Sea air. There is something there for me, even though I know that we cannot escape anywhere or find anything anywhere other than within the heart.... but oh I've so deeply probed my heart, and oh how I know that a lot of what I find in it is... Odessa. My personal epic odyssey. I don't have many regrets, but the major one is never visiting my grandparents when they were still alive. I really wish I had. It's like I didn't understand how valuable and sacred it is to share space with family members, especially older ones who have so much to teach us. Oh my deep deep painful sigh. I owe it to them now to at least go visit their grave sites. And for my sake, to breathe the air over in that land. True it's not the same place we left. But no place stays the same. Neither do we individuals. It's the emotion of the place, the emotion of the human being. My heart. My soul and eyes want to see. Home. And I know here in California is home... and I can't just turn on it. I never would, even if I left more permanently, it would always live in my heart too. Probably haunting as much as Odessa now haunts me. Or so I choose it to be. I choose the haunting, I welcome it, want it. It gives me depth. And a shape to the mystery. Again, I keep thinking that I'd lived on that land a long time... my ancestors, my self in previous incarnations, however you word it. I feel it pulling me like the moon pulls the tide. Strong but far. Having more influence than one can be aware of. Sweetly tormenting. New affirmation: I will go to Odessa this year. The amazing Opera Theater in Odessa, The Ukraine.
Suddenly everything fell away. Splintered away rapidly, actually without a measurement of speed, but with a sense of vastness and all-inclusive suddenness. I mean, ALL inclusive. The modern world's conveniences, appliances, stigmas, sheltering sweltering beliefs and lies and dreams, all of it, suddenly, fell away. Away from this particular self which sat stoic and frozen, though breathing, upon my nightly bed before slumbering into dreamland, before keeping eyelids closed for so many hours, here I sat, and deep in meditation, all of it all fell away. And the moment was simple, and life was simple, just for the moment. It was not the past. It was not a point in time. Nor was it a location in space, nor in any dimension. It was more than a feeling, less than an action, sort of like an awareness, but more than that word... More, and less, simultaneously, suddenly, and all-ness, and everything-ness. And nothing.
I suppose it sort of did feel like "the past." Before there were computers and machines and guns and wars. (Or were there always wars goddamn-it?) Nevertheless, there was a beautiful delicious nothingness. Just a sense of human flesh, human spirit, human mind. Heart pulsating so divinely, so simply. We didn't even yet know what we looked like anatomically, inside. Perhaps we were made simply of light, and perhaps we did not even cast a shadow. But again, it wasn't really the past. It wasn't really before anything. Just a moment. Stretched to feel like timelessness. Stretched, highlighted and gathered into one point. But not one. And not a point. It's like Don Miguel Ruiz says, we don't know what we are. We just know that here we are, and we are something. And we call it human, we have many words for it. But what it really is, we do not really know. What is it to know anyway? The day is as gray as possible. Grayer, even. So much so that one can feel a depressive mood hanging in the air, like an awkward stillness between strangers in an elevator. Like the nervousness that hangs between individuals when they are trying too hard to make conversation. Or, like the sullen clouds, simply low and ready to burst with rain. Ready to cry.
Suddenly, sun. Its warmth and gentle yellowness caress my cheeks. The clouds having parted for just a short moment, I've soaked in an ounce of joy. And then, back to gray. It used to be that overcast days didn't bother me much. They took the pressure off of having to be cheerful. One could sulk freely on an "ugly" day. That novel idea alone caused me to think the grayness not at all ugly, but relaxing. Soothing even. And yet. Now. I hunger for sunshine. As if unconsciously realizing that its preciousness is eventually doomed, destroyed. Millions of years hence, perhaps. Still, enough to render it mortal, just like us. And that just makes it easier to resent, easier to love, easier to wallow in, joyfully. I'm not self-disciplined enough, but my rage, strength and power are indisputable. A not-yet-errupted sensation, I am dark and whimsical, difficult to categorize, and smelling faintly of old-worldism and the kind of nostalgia for lost childhood that tortures and haunts one's soul till the very end... It's hard for me to write, honestly. Being bare, and detailed with the bareness, even harder. This heart has seen many blurred nights. Memory is mischievous in its hold on me, I wonder at my own happenings like at a detached fictional character's. I dream in bold colors that have no words in any language to describe them. Flat expanses and also, ravines and caves. Monstrous scrapers (buildings) and endless hallways, wooden doors, their knobs, silent slow-motion traffic, territorial characters claiming their stock in my tangle of brain and soul, sleeping deeply all alone. If I could shed my love onto you - crisply, undeniably - I'd pour all of it. Just the love of words alone, the love of books and games, secrets, thrones, demigods and whispers. Everything. All at once. The deep-hidden frosted princess, the sullen girl, the muse. Moments matter not. She encompasses all time and space, all dimension and reality. She is a question, and her own answer never ceases, never tells, never consummates the pondering. On and on and on, she thinks. Beauty, things of beauty, encircle and inspire her. But on and on, she lives and breathes harmonic flutters, bird-wing and sunlit horizon, senselessness, whimsy, love's trajectory, engaging and endless. Elena Lentini, amazing dancer.
a stoic love
shared and unshared relinquished unto the heavens, gods, sepulchers of secret stories and fine spirits, meant to absolve all of doubt and even sin, endless happiness and mirth, laughter and music, a stoic love, a distance conquered, a sky so blue and bluer every day, like oceanic lashes, mists, cheekbones of mountain frost, diligently securing every moment of life, grateful and a bit askew, a bit akimbo, a bit restless... but so pointed, so dedicated, to love. to love and honor. obeying only what the higher self enshrouds. enlisting the services of only the highest good. the brain's soulful return to its own heart, no separation in physical form. only beauty and resonance. How does it happen so? A thought is a spark. A real manifestation then occurs, and I am blindsided. I cannot do. The mere waking hour is beyond sense. The dream doesn't disintegrate away like usual, but floats in and around my head's periphery like a staunch smell, or a fume of incense. I suddenly take on a new energetic balancing act that I never intended or desired, and yet somehow it is such a pattern for me and my young life, getting less young, more wise I would think, but somehow less. Sometimes I fear I had more logic in my teenage years than now.
But enough about fears. What of passion? And presently-known facts or ideas that suddenly implode right before you and make you wonder all anew. Almost a cherished mischief, is how I would describe my tendencies. Sometimes. Maybe this is how it happens between estranged, entangled lovers. Though they are completely doomed, completely from their start. There is no start for them. Always doubled and hovering over what seems real. Always beautiful in a painfully mortal way. Oh underwater shepherd-queen, come bestow some grace on me.
Sweltering, I'm afloat yet bolted to the sand, ever changing and still I swim the same, and up around and all about you, I long remain. A bemused fan, forever devoted to your tug and tide, to your bluest deepest dream of dreams, my underwater riding-hood, my underwater queen. |
"Our world is in crisis because of the absence of consciousness. And so to whatever degree any one of us, can bring back a small piece of the picture and contribute it to the building of the new paradigm, then we participate in the redemption of the human spirit, and that after all is what it's really all about." Elsewhere:Instagram
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