What is Love?

What is Love?

Love.
Love.
Love. What is love to me today? Am I in love with the idea of love? Do I relish in those early moments, of being on the brink—of lightness and dazzlement and suspending that moment with a locked gaze?

What is love to me today? What does it represent? I have a newfound independence and I have turned the page, have been gradually letting the pages fall back, have made my intentions clear to the universe, that I invite the type of union with a partner that is right for me where I am now and I know I have blessings—I feel it—a good sending off into this adventure should it be meant to be in this life. Today, I felt ready and I walked to the store that I sensed would have what I was looking for. I chose three to look at, all handmade of wood from Indonesia. The one I chose: Two lovers entwined, as one, side by side. Her breasts lay bare, her hand up and around to reach the back of her lover’s neck. Rather than face each other, they are side by side, they are individuals and they are one. I felt a certain feeling of the wind inside of me as I left the store, hair thrown back by the breeze, sun beaming brightly upon me, as I walked with a gait of happiness.

Currently, in Feng Shui terms, the relationship corner of my room has lone images of a dreamy woman, books, a corkboard of wisdom and images collected through the years. After first lighting incense in the stillness, I placed the loving couple here upon the shelf, as an additional intention to invite love. It represents for me a love that is free and conducive to love, exploration, freedom, depth, understanding, openness, learning—the list could go on, does go on. This feels good and strange. I’ve never stated my intention in quite this way—aloud yes—but I seal it here in my newfound lovers and my words. I kiss it to the wind and carry on.

**

Mostly recorded in my notebook yesterday.

Tomorrow is National Dance Day!

I have been watching, “So you think you can dance.” I love watching the dancers tell stories with their movements and I’ve grown to admire certain choreographers and the way they are able to make me feel. There were at least a handful of routines this season that made me cry at the emotion and beauty displayed by the performers.

As most of you know, my mother had me ice skating from a very young age, she also had me concurrently do ballet and gymnastics. I think, however, that I was meant to be a free form dancer. When no one was home, I would crank up the music and dance my heart out, running through the house, doing jumps and leaps—I still do this every now and then and am trying to do it more often. One of my favorite pieces to dance to is “Jingo” by Santana.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I just loved how I felt, how free my body was, how I felt something deep in my core. And a memory just now leaps out at me. I was a little girl, maybe 8. I was happy and outside in our front yard on the grass, practicing back flips. I would lean back and flip my body over. Cars would pass and yell out encouragement to me. As I’ve also written before, I sometimes wonder where this little performer went. Who was that little girl without any fears or cares, right out so everyone could see her? I still dance in my own private space, and having watched “So you think you can dance,” has added a new perspective. It’s such good fun and so much more. It’s like writing with your body—and I think this thought has Keiko in it because she studied dance and she knows about body poetry. But just right now, it all sort of comes together for me. I love these little spurts of inspiration and connection.

Tomorrow is National Dance Day, so dance your hearts out. Here’s a fun little video clip to get you going.


http://www.fox43.com/news/wpmt-national-dance-day,0,1224542.story

Growth

Growth is a difficult process. The layers of a shell become polished along the way. Some layers, no longer needed, but so familiar they are clung too, tugged on. To step into the light of the ensuing layers or stay in the comfort of the incessant womb of safety. To realize with wide open eyes that the layers have been climbed, that the old is no longer needed to survive. To come into one’s own is a feeling indescribable, except to see a woman—this familiar woman that appears from time to time—a woman in white and the pink of shell, standing at the crown of the large conch shell, holding another conch shell to her lips and blowing the resonance into the world, into herself. She puts the shell down and realizes that she has arrived, that there is still work to do, but it is time to take the comforts of her flowing gown off, and step out naked, to go to the edge and jump into the ocean where she belongs and to know that she will not sink because she is of the elements, and they will pull her along, keep her afloat as she surrenders to the moment of layering, of being reborn and she knows that she will visit this space again and again, for she feels it in her bones and it fills her with...

Mother Earth

This is a photo of the lake at a reservoir.

Mother Earth has brought a very different summer this year. Here we are in July, where it would usually bring many more warm mornings and nights. We’ve certainly had a few blaring hot days, but not enough. The change is enough and felt in different parts; I feel that things are changing. We seem to be reaching capacity, too much weight for Mother Earth to handle. She can handle it, yes, but is she trying to warn us, teach us, snap us into a better direction? Will the masses listen or continue on the path they are on? I feel the heaviness of something.

And the other day, when I bumped into the landlord who lives on the other side of the creek, I was astonished to learn that whoever was clearing out the house of the neighbors who had moved, took a glass counter top and threw it into the creek behind his home and crushed the glass into slivers probably with their feet. The landlord discovered this on one of his walks when he makes sure brush is trimmed down and such. The deer cross the creek, as well as other critters. But can you imagine the absolute disregard for nature and the people that live around it. It is unbelievable to me that someone would do such a thing. I pray that people that do these types of unmindful acts wake up and find it in their hearts to realize they are a part of it and they are destroying the earth and themselves.

Water ~ Isla Mujeres

Posted in Memory of my late beloved on my day of birth.

My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I ready to post this poem written a time ago as a capsule of our trip.

Even though, I feel fire inside, at my essence, I am pure water.

**

Isla Mujeres (Island of Women)

Our first trip
to the pristine ocean;
the turquoise pools
of the Caribbean sea.
Engulfed comfort
beneath the shell of
Isla Mujeres.

A twenty minute jaunt
transported from the twirl of Cancun.
We sail across clear waves,
absorbed by the reflection of
the sun, soothing invigoration--
in your eyes too.
Transported:
Time slows, unblurs
to a quaint island.

Little stores, restaurants,
together along the main,
left and right
strung into colorful spring
bouquets.
We explore the island passageways,
past narrow streets.
The vendors
display hand-made goods:
woven blankets,
brightly painted paper mache masks,
sombreros, trinkets.
A cheerful array of colors
behind humble eyes.

Winding back to the main,
The fisherman unload
fresh caught fish from their boats,
invite a pause to our day.
Dinner by the sea. Seated
outside, under a grass like hut,
we wait at make-shift tables,
candles lit; aroma of sizzling fish
fills the air, salty and fresh.

A mariachi trio
sings and strums in
the background.
As I listen, I think of my ancestors;
I look across at you, our eyes meet,
you place your hand on mine, the breeze
sways my hair, sky begins to change its mood
Looking out across the dark ocean,
my mind glides
across shimmering waves;
inside
I sing.

Translucence

Translucence and contours of blood red, corn blue,
green sea foam; ylang-ylang wafting;
life organs within translucence.
Strength contained
within innocence.

Three beings on their own, yet
connected, each a floating
bubble of honey.

Stars, moon, universe—
a protective midnight seal,
joined to the orange fire sky.

And as she looks, gazes—there is still more…

**

Inspired from Aleister Crowley Thoth Tarot Deck ~ XX Trumps: The Aeon

Sunday ~ Song

Rebb took this photo on one of her walks. She is so happy she turned back around and took her camera out. She almost passed by. It was breezy, but luckily, the camera compensated for any shake.

I put together a compilation of random songs a couple of years ago, which I’ve recently enjoyed listening to daily, along with an assortment of other CDs. It has a mish-mash of songs that don’t go seem to go together, except in the unique moods and emotions they evoke, as each track plays.

At work I listen only to classical. It helps me stay focused and grounded. At home, I begin my mornings with classical and make my way around. With this compilation, it brings my energy up. It makes me want to get up and dance to high-energy, techno-house, soul, reggae, Santana, Pink—and in between it all, I’ve placed this well known beautiful piece—Time to Say Goodbye. It causes me to pause, to stop. I sway, move in a very different way than the songs before or the songs after. And here watching Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman, it fills me with so much.

It seems the perfect song for this Sunday, as the week comes to a close…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_JLkIOnq04&feature=related