of the sea

the rhythm of the sea
sways focus and I don't mind
sounds of water
sounds of fire
solid place to sit on earth packed tight
soil lets light
in and soil becomes mud
soul drinks from the sea
of gratitude
soul wrestling with conscious worlds
all inside all twirled
up to the sky
the rhythm of the clouds
impossible to gather
or imitate correctly
these constant truth sights
these huge sighs from
a being on her way
within night within day

pay respects

I am
speaking into the spaces
u left wide open with your holy stare

the moments collide drifting out from silence

judgment ceases when I am gripped by the greater truth
you have made an impression but that doesn't mean much

since I am
always in awe of something

and should there be some formal release
of this relationship? if not in a poem
then where when or how do I pay respects

to that which was my sole comfort or addiction as it were,

and the constant stream is still flowing, still there
pouring from my wrists
and you glide into distraction position

I am
writing to the eternal omnipotent you
the ego pressing itself insistently into my thoughts
like someone's body on a too crowded bus

my heart my art my soul my dreams are lacking

but I am caught up in you momentarily and everything is just a letter
as in letters making up words
so my letters are molecules and space expanding

I am
letters to you on that personal, most intimate level
holding us to higher standards than we can achieve
but we might exceed them
if not now then in a dream beyond the constructs of time
some of this has damaged me but I never take damage seriously

presently

I am
waiting and the God search has the Goddess erupting
in fits of laughter
inside

I am
planning to become much more impressive soon
that last me you just met was a personality in preparation
of what is to come

I am
holding back rivers of observation as I half listen to you speak
What you reveal is heard
I read between lines of improvised scripts

and notice the planet start to change.

moon tears

"It is so important to listen right now, for all the different voices that have still not risen, listen closely because they are coming. When they do they will fill the streets, rise up into the stars, bring the moon to tears."

from a journal in 1999. still relevant

What services do I offer?

Hello! I now have a website that details the services I offer even more clearly, visit me there at
www.imayasmodalities.com


Bodywork for Women: This is my private practice of Therapeutic Bodywork and subtle healing energy work sessions for women. Male clients are accepted by referral only.

contact me with any questions!


Divination: I use tarot cards to unlock the wisdom the client already has about their life, relying on archetypal images and meanings that relate to a question or just offer insight in general. The decks I use are very positive and healing and never give responses that could be stressful or negative. After a reading, one will generally feel more clear and affirmed than before.

I also practice divination through my very own style of Clairsentient and Clairaudient sessions. I will ask you a few questions and generally give you a reading of the situation you present, often speaking to that which showed up to me as important in order to provide guidance and clarity about that which you consciously bring to me. It is entirely up to you how you receive the messages I have divined for you. There is no one right way to respond to these kinds of readings.

You may resonate with it, some of it, or none of it. If there is no resonating with what I have told you, there is no failure on either part. We were meant to meet and interact and the reasons for that meeting are not always immediately apparent to us. I will always offer a blessing along with the reading, whether it is silent or spoken.

contact me for more info!

Restorative Shamanic Dream Work:

 Work with an Innovative Practitioner in sessions designed and tailored to suit the individual, first meeting is an assessment of the potential client

What is Restorative Shamanic Dream work?

Using clairaudient and clairsentient abilities, I create personalized ceremonies for each client to improve the quality of life for that person. I have been initiated into this work by Spirit in my dream worlds and had the potency of the initiation confirmed while working with clients and friends.

I would like to tell you a bit about how this works. If a person has certain kind of psychic blocks around not being able to hear her own guides, a shaman/clairsentient practitioner such as myself, can intercede on her behalf and transmit words that match the frequency/vibration of what the guides and angels of that person wish for that person to hear. This requires some faith on the part of the client that the one interceding will be able to match the vibrational intention of spirit at that time for the client regarding whatever issue is the focus of the ceremony. Ideally, the practitioner works long enough with the client on the most pressing issues she is dealing with, that at a certain point, the client feels more confident about communicating with her own guides. This takes awhile for some, while others quickly adapt and wish to minimize or eliminate the help of the practitioner.

One of my specialties is helping clients find just the right words within the safe space of a ceremony to free themselves from any karmic debt. This comes in the form of what I call a "release prayer".
I work with Spirit, to come up with how to eloquently and graciously phrase the petition for release. How do we know you are being released from karmic debt? My ability to tap into the heart of the matter will be used as way of assisting the client to own his or her part in the situation and if needed, get out of it without creating any negative energy that would just have to be cleaned up later. This type of prayer and ceremony work is one that works quickly and after participating the client will often feel uplifted and sometimes a bit giddy from the shift in consciousness that has taken place.

What about payment? How does that work?

I accept trade. I do not take money for this. I have chosen that because no amount of money fits for this type of work, in my mind. In my experience, if money is taken out of the picture it is simply a cleaner exchange of skill for another skill or just a trade in general, without involving currency. This should ensure the client never give more or less than what they feel is appropriate. Discuss this with me in person and I can further elaborate. A trade I would approve could be a yoga class or a few of them, clairvoyant or clairsentient reading, even a haircut is good! There are many options for trade.
If a person is already skilled and or gives readings, that is welcome. I take all of this with a grain of salt, and I maintain a sense of humor about the process.

"The healer knows, We heal no one,
we Cure no one, to attempt a cure denies the truth,
Disharmony sown in spirit
reaps imbalance in the flesh
to regain the point of balance,
simply open your heart
offer your life
allow the love to heal
allow the weak to grow
say "I am the healer" and
you step out of the flow
for the Universe flatters no one
but offers its life
when you offer your own"

My website is www.imayasmodalities.com - If you are interested please visit the website! Thanks for reading!

singing truth

holy land is everywhere.

 

holy land is not just one place.

 

what makes this land holy is the same essence that

denies the borders of countries, that holds true to the

arbitrary nature of these human fantasies

 

and says

 

my country is just a smaller piece of what is bigger than me

all that space above my head and this whole planet beneath my

body, and the elements in it that make up my body,

true for all sentient beings.

 

and love

 

creates the bonds that matter, bonds between beings that carry their

matter, their bodies with them as cloaks that do not mean to distract away

from a miracle inside each person that life created

life as source, life as source,

 

and love

 

is more important and powerful than any phenomenon can name

and love knows that the land is holy, and that toxicity will not just leave,

that we must cleanse our ways to stop offending that which

earth - North

air - East

fire- South

water- West

brought to us like in the story

of white buffalo calf woman

 

the two leggeds are meant to understand

no one place is to be valued higher than another, that

leads to a disproportionate appreciation among all of us

for places with arbitrary lines drawn,

 

love

 

tells us we must level it out, balance ourselves

with our sight. we must undo the poisonous

place holders of colonial mind sets and

 

start

 

all

 

over

birth and happening

moments pass as leaves fall,
the peace was wanted
yet not enough
not exciting enough
not amazing enough
so the peace went away
the chaos and disorder came back

because the peace knew it was unwanted

she did not know peace
was enough like a human
she thought peace happened, just became itself
through birth, like a human

she could breathe and know what was true
but that did not matter
the poetry pushes itself out of her pores
and her skin was pulsing in ecstasy
how she wished she could describe the state
she was in
the states she had been in
but all the words she had picked up
from colonial languages
not the ancient mother tongues
were not original enough
not unique enough to convey the vivid true
highlighted bright truth inside them insistently

she could not wrap her words around experience and deliver
it in a speech
no matter who or what the speech was destined for
she wished and hoped against the brick walls
of being stuck here
feeling that the walls were made of chaos
the same kind that chased the
beautiful perfect peace away
and the humans overwhelmingly misunderstood
so many experiences involving peace.

let go
she thinks
breathe it out
she whispers
I will reveal so much to you
she thinks
in peace, in the calm
she knows
I will teach you
she whispers
will you listen
she wishes

Sacred Space- update

I wrote about this awhile back and now it is time to update what I think. Since I was brought up by people who on a regular basis, created sacred space in a particular way, I needed quite a bit of distance, for example, to spend years not practicing this way.

What do we do specifically? We call on the powers of the four directions as they correspond to Earth /Air/Water and Fire. It is too much to explain it on here, just know it is  a type of ritual creation that can feel like a good, tight container for magic to happen.

Since I grew up in such an unconventional way, I find it nice that I can pick and choose what to use and what to teach and who to teach about this kind of practice.

The main rule, and there are very few rules, is to harm nobody and do as ye will. If you can follow that credo, I know you are more ready for the rest of what follows


will update more soon.....

Vigils for all the killing and pain

There has been senseless violence and killing that has been all over the news in the past week.

Beirut, Kenya, Paris. Also, war still goes on constantly. Many kinds of wars insist on being around.

The way I see it, you have a sphere of influence. Once that sphere has completed itself, you need to let go the pain, let go the fear, let go the addiction to paying attention to that which cannot be changed.

If you are close enough to these situations, tend to the living, that they may be comforted in their hours of need. If you are near by these places, bury the bodies and say your respects. Then, do everything in your power to make this world better, to know what you can heal and what you cannot and do all you can, accepting what you cannot do.

Then, when all is said and done, we move on. We do not sink into despair, we do not lose hope. Our species has always dealt with our ugly, aching shadow. We have always had violent ones among the more consistently peaceful. It is time to stand with the peaceful, act with justice, demand justice everywhere from everyone.

And it is not time to give up, to write off humanity. There is still a great amount of good shown from and shining in many, many, many folks young and old.

Pro-Creativity in the land of Massive Consumerism

This year, for the holidays I am giving all the people in my life on Solstice and Christmas 2 poems. I know it seems kind of 8th grade, but writing poetry has been a source of great joy or at least it has been consoling.

Lots of folks do not like poetry and I get it. I rarely read poetry and as a teacher once said, it is a rich diet. I write it but I do not read much of it. The gift of these two I will give are in the spirit of DIY, anti shopping, pro creativity and all of that.

 The people do not have to like them but I hope they will understand that now in my 30s I would rather conjure a present from the fairly prolific list of poems I have under my belt than buy little trinkets nobody needs and hardly even likes.

I have been fortunate enough to get really positive feedback about my writing, thus boosting my confidence and make me want to do what I will do this year.

I encourage others to get on this boat. Not buying gifts is a great way to go. It is often less trouble than you think and if more of us did this we would have fewer contributions to consumer culture and more spontaneous and fun creative alternatives.

What is the planetary healing arts enterprise?

Our motto and mission statement:

"We practice the elimination of exploitation of all kinds"

This means in no uncertain terms that each person shall contribute as little or as much as they feel good about and is healthy for them. There will be no shaming, no telling folks what they should do, only sincere and heartfelt contributions. Amazing and real change cannot happen if people feel pressured by themselves or by others. Imagine, for a moment, will you, how different, and how much better our lives would be if we lived this way in all regards? It would take some real getting used to but I bet once we implemented this sort of way, we would not look back.

I created the idea for the enterprise for all practitioners of the healing arts to begin to identify the effects and realities of their good work with other people, animals and plants. The way this will happen is to identify those with knowledge of websites to create just one website where people can find other folks of like mind and like practice and close the very wide gaps created by wealth and elitism and classism. All who register or get involved will us will be asked to open their minds about currency and trade for what they do. In this manner, money will take on lesser value, and alternative methods of payment are options for those who have less and for those who have almost nothing. Why should there be such suffering when those who do healing arts could stop it?

My vision is that this site will be accessible and intelligently monitored to protect people from internet predator types so that it is a virtual safe space in that sense. Have I thought through all of the particulars and specifics yet? No, I feel for now that coming up with this is enough.

The community organization has been explained on this blog a bit and it is meant to be a template that other people can use, change, add to, so it becomes as useful and meaningful as possible.

"to start" and "close"

"to start"

speaking from my heart

in a stream of consciousness

means all that builds up in

that emotion organ, that full chakra

gets a release from sitting too still

about to spill, and what a release this is

coming from the heart center, you feel all that which wishes

to align inside

all you felt you had to protect and hide

streaming your consciousness from

your heart is always a good place to start

"close"

dressed in a fabric of unexpressed joy and grief
she wandered with lust

his arms were not a blanket
but nothing else would
wrap around her correctly

cheeks flushed with a memory
her hands make light work of this

sometimes she worked from a distance
fearing what would happen when she was close

close enough to feel
the skin
the breath
the heartbeat

close enough to know the rest of the rhyme
way before the expected time

Read all about it! A record label in the spirit of transparency!

New info. on Imaya's Modalities Record label--

What is a contract with this label and why is done so differently?

As a participant of this record label, you will be in charge of recording, producing and playing

your music. This will be for now, a labor of love. As a representative of this label, I offer support and

encouragement, through this process. You may contribute as much or as little as you want and this

contribution should be driven by desire to create beautifully, as mentioned, labors of love.

I will choose to destroy contracts, and as founder I have that power, if a participant is knowingly

causing harm, physical, spiritual, mental or emotional to any other human being. The destruction of a

contract will be done in writing and is always final.

This is a fairly easy expectation to adhere to, so take heed now before making mistakes later. The

record label is an extension of the Community Organization, and then it connects to the Planetary

Healing Arts Enterprise.

Here is a credo we go by, "We practice the elimination of exploitation of all kinds"

In other words, we do not push, hurt, harm, force any one in any way for any reason, including

ourselves.

I encourage musicians and artists of all kinds to reject any label or other kind of management that

continues making old mistakes with exploitative actions and vocalizations.

Contact me for more info!

julianamiller3@gmail.com

for this rose

the very moment they saw each other they were transfixed

love had a small part in this
perhaps the moments were handed
straight from the ancestor who wished her to have this day

this series of this days this call to be in play
play was richer than a fantasy
peace within and without was some strange goal
for this world they knew called them to
fight

fighting for peace was insane and they
were transfixed on each other
hate on the other side of love no longer mattered
all they could see then
was absence of hate
presence of love

all they could see then was Buddha nature
not to be attached
not to fear
no more fear they knew
this was the way

they empty their contents into the cosmos at the appointed time
this was death
but the order in the cosmos distributes the contents of them
body mind spirit
according to a karma they would not recognize
none is how it is expected to be
an afterlife full of irony

emotionlessness drives this place
now there must be more
as remnants of human form become dense
and density will melt and disperse
what is this place
that they never thought of, read of, spoke of, heard of
what is this place
for this rose always listened
to sun and sky and never had the urge to deny
the soil as mother
the soil as father
the home essence of Gaia

the rose
was only aware of some that she chose
oh but the rest,
oh there was more
what is this place
and what does it have in store?

emptiness is form, form is emptiness

New kinds of Sessions- Read all about it!

About this new work!

Now I work not only on the physical level, with a client's body using massage, but the client's energy/prana/chi/kundalini. At times, even the dreams of the client and myself can come into play as I facilitate the healing of certain problems. I give no guarantees, and I accept no money; only trade for this type of work. Also I clarify that I may facilitate the healing but every client is their own first and best healer and they do the work to get better. I only create the space, whether that is in the physical or on the psychic and energy planes.

So what is it then?

 Specifically, when I offer "Restorative Shamanic Dream Work" naturally, questions arise. They are supposed to! I hope to answer serious inquiries in a satisfying way as I integrate this new ceremonial work into the modalities that I offer.

I was essentially thrown into this work without even trying to get here. How did that happen? A person I met asked me to meet them in the dreamtime. They might have known I could do this kind of work before I knew. I did meet them there and was instructed by the dream how to assist them in their clearing and cleansing of their energy. Once I did this, I needed to cut the cord between them and me quickly.

Boundaries between client and practitioner are very important. If either person wants to walk away, is finding it hard to gain clarity or if there are problems they do not want to deal with, by all means, that person should walk away. This should only ever feel right and or not harmful in any way. There are no contracts, no "should" or any manipulative restrictions.

A note about self care:

It is critical at this time on Gaia, the interconnected web of life and death, that we find great modes of self care, both physically and otherwise, that enable us to live to our full potential. All that does not support your own self care ( not self obsession) should be tossed away. Always listen to your intuition about a person, job, or anything at all. Intuition is there to help keep us safe.

I know it is the task of all members of humanity to develop a relationship with uncertainty and impermanence. Doing this will assist you in creating the life you want and will ground you in the reality of what is possible for you. Lots of folks never pay attention to the tiny messages and the voice and or symbols from within or without that can guide them. I say that the possibilities are endless, because they are, but there are circumstances present in our lives that limit us, undeniably.

What is Restorative Shamanic Dream work?

At the heart of this work is the acknowledgement that we are powerful creators of our destiny and that we must protect ourselves and others from harm. I do not say this out right but it should become clear as a client works with me.

What is Restorative about it?

I ask each client to do some homework to gather what represents earth, air, fire and water to them and I encourage each person to define Spirit for themselves. This ensures a healing and restorative time spent searching in the divine place inside for that which can be drawn out of our environment. There are no fancy labels. It is just about you, your dreams, (waking and living dreams) the four sacred elements in this world and Spirit as you define it. This is meant to be enjoyable and I will tailor this part for each client so they feel free to complete it in a way that suits them.

What is Shamanic about it?

I will tell you a short story to orient you to the principles of modern shamanic work, it should exemplify the intention and a bit about how it works. The world of our dreams plays a large part.

A Shamanic intervention

A mother and daughter spent years knowing each other. They felt love between them but at a certain point the daughter noticed she felt drained around her mother and oddly resentful of her. She could not put her finger on why.

A person the daughter knew did shamanic work, and one day she booked a session. She told the shaman she had lived with this feeling for a very long time and did not want to resent her mother because she felt horrible that she was not wanting to be close to her.

Once she was given permission by the daughter, the shaman got to work.

As the shaman slept, she was shown a scene in her dream of the daughter at about 4 years old, singing and playing happily and a sad, withdrawn looking mother who was walking about the room. It was clear the mother felt depleted and with a magical vision, the shaman saw the mom steal a ball of golden energy from the daughter, mindlessly, having no conscious intention to harm anyone.
In the dreamtime, the shaman approached the mother, and said gently to her; "You have something that does not belong to you."

The mother was surprised and looked down at the ball of energy that was her daughter's. "Oh" she said to the shaman, "I am so sorry" Then, the mother reached over to the little girl and gave the energy back.

After this was done, the relationship between mother and daughter cleared up and improved dramatically. That is the example I use to explain the essence of what I do.

With permission, I see, or just know, in a dream or waking state, what has happened to the client, sometimes literally and other times not, and I retrieve what they need or often do not know that they need or want, in order to restore  what had been causing one level of the problem and creating some peace around it. This is of course in an ideal situation.

What happens if there is no dream that tells the Shaman what to do?

In the case of no dream work appearing, I can use mundane wisdom and practices to help. By virtue of harming nobody, I would never pretend to have a dream that connects me to a place I have no connection to do. In these cases, if they happen, I refer you out to another person, or I just work with the waking world to assist a client.

What about payment? How does that work?

I accept trade. I do not take money for this. I have chosen that because the wide range of expectations from clients cannot quite fit onto a scale of different amounts of money in my mind. In my experience, if money is taken out of the picture it is simply a cleaner exchange of skill for another skill or just a trade in general, without involving currency. This should ensure the client never give more or less than what they feel is appropriate. Discuss this with me in person and I can further elaborate.

A trade I would approve could be a yoga session or a few of them, clairvoyant or clairsentient reading and so on. If a person is already skilled and or knowledgeable of mystical and new age type readings that is welcome. I take all of this with a grain of salt, and I maintain an interest in these kind of practices, just to see how people approach them.

You can reach me at julianamiller3@gmail.com

just a thought

"and when we can get our
heavy hearts to love lightly

this house of cards will become a home"

unknown artist

lost and found art

song lyrics for you all who want lyrics. play with this!!



verse 1.
come take my hand
where will we sit
your hand in mine
is such a good fit

(chorus)
where will we go
when all is said and done
I will be there if we can
finally have some fun

verse2
I know you have felt one level of release
let's keep going
and increase the inner peace

(chorus)

verse 3

Human consciousness has the potential
for infinite bliss
I will tell you now
you don't want to miss this

in each moment 1 and 2

1.
we keep irregular hours so will you

throw that blanket on me
sleep will come as daybreaks
some rather older type emotion shakes
shivers from my spine

you tell me
everything will be fine
I tell you
Don't listen to the words after wine
wine hits and misses
does not replace hugs and kisses

skipped the chapters
like forever after
to be more and more in each moment
become a decent and modest owner
of this sacred life I lead
nobody in the front or
back of the line knows how we plant a seed
until fingers in the ground
dirt damp solid lost and found

we will not all be gardeners
we will partake of abundance
we have green thumbs
and useless ones

and damn if I could remember
each longing from December
without the winter chill
we wonder what will remind us
of true seasons

when on the spirit of earth
we committed treason
mother take us home
grandmothers grandfathers
ascended ancestors we need you now
here and now
we need you now

2.
As I write I learn
thoughts aching to burn
have always turned here
to this place inside
and nobody feels it
the way you do
the way I do
all specific to you

please let kind words flow from me
please let the wind know and the earth too
please let the fire see all that I knew

I am done with words but they are not done with me
they want so badly to pour in a formation that
all can see
put together so many pieces of me
to get us where we can
really be free
lets get us so we can really get free

Useful now

I am on a brand new page
I have delivered a rainbow rage
no my last name was not always Sage

Inventions grow like weeds
not all need to be watered
at times they can just go back to seed

what is a weed anyway
if you cannot ask the purpose
through a thorough investigation
through the process of experimentation
and evaluation

people
this is how we learned to sustain ourselves
and no matter how you identify
this is what we must try

my focus breezes past those who are stuck
thinking the so called leaders will work all this out for us
we must liberate ourselves
strategically, consciously
our work is never done, and for that
may we give thanks

Orchid and Gray- Play (2 scenes)

Dark Orchid and Light Slate Gray

Melodrama and Part Prose

Scene 1: Big field, multi colored roses

Orchid: In the cool of the darkest evening

I spent my collection of stars

desperate for answers

I threw into the black pool of night water

a million tiny questions

only to find that nothing

could come to me, that was not already destined

to come to me.

 

Gray: But you change your mind several times a day, you used to love

the law of attraction concept. How will you receive what you

say you want if your heart and mind keep moving, how will

anything you say you want stick to such a quickly moving

target?

 

Orchid: So, you think this is just a complaint, Oh how sorry I am.

You always say you're not the complaint department

and what have I done, have I crossed a line

drawn in the wet sand, the dry sand blowing away our intentions

leaving us with only the moment?

well, take your moments with you I guess, since I am only

announcing loud brash noises into your temple.

 

Gray: You jump to conclusions to quickly. I was never implying I cannot hear you

only that the poetic power of your thoughts and desires be the ones that truly lead you

not anyone or anything you may choose to replace or destroy the originality of your

quest and the place you could land if you wished.


Scene 2: Back porch of a country side home.

Gray: As we sit, I am more and more aware that our feelings have only deepened. I still
cannot call you my love, say I love you after all these years. I still cannot hold a candle
 to the beauty when what calls me to speak about is the pain. Why do I convert good
memories to silt, to the soil below and then cover myself in all that we did wrong?

Orchid: No, no, really you weave in whatever flies into your fancy mind and become
your own enemy, just as you warn me not to become mine. Are we too similar?
Or as some suggest, are we from different planets? I assimilate to your moods
and am rewarded most often with indifference.

Gray: So that is how you see this, so that is how you feel. I know what I must do.
(Character stands, turns to face away from other person, takes a few steps toward the edge
of the porch )

(Scene Finished)

Scene 3.

 

True Story: Involves two of my Beloved Ancestors.

What color am I ?

Flower and Stilt- Short Story

Flower and Stilt had been married for over 45 years. They made two children together, a boy and a girl.

Like many families, this one had their struggles. Yet, overall, they had much happiness together. Each of the four of this small family was intelligent and compassionate. Each of the four of them had skills and talents respectively.

One day, after the boy and girl had grown into adults and left Flower and Stilt to enjoy retirement, which they really did, there was an incident that brought waves of many feelings and insights to the elderly couple.

Stilt was driving the car and Flower, as usual was in the passenger seat. At one point, when Stilt had been slowing down or had stopped, a man with a gun pointing at Stilt, told him to let him in the car, so, having no choice, Stilt allowed that.

Fear surged through his body, and his most prominent thought was that he hoped as hard as he could hope that Flower would not be harmed. He did not know it in the moment, but her huge fear at the time was that he would be harmed.

As they drove in tense, frightened silence, the man with the gun decided to speak.

How long have you been married? he asked. Stilt told him that they had been a couple for over four decades.

The man may have asked more questions which each elderly person did his or her best to answer.
At one point the man asked Flower what "color" he was.

She replied, calmly, "I don't know, sir."

He said, "That's right, we are all the same color here!!" Nobody disagreed.

Finally, the man requested that Stilt pull over. He did, and the man, who had taken their wedding rings, offered to give them back.

He says, "You probably want these back, don't you?"

They both agreed they would like them back. So he gave back what he would have stolen, and told them he wished they were his grandparents.

As he was leaving, Stilt offered to give him 20$. Now this was a whole lot more money in those days and I imagine Stilt offered it so that next time the man would just take a taxi. But the man refused to take his money, and left them to their shaken up, and relieved states.

Flower passed away before Stilt, but I am confident that the veil separating the living and the dead involve pacts that the living make with the dead and if Stilt ever wanted to find Flower again, he would. Their love for each other and their qualities too abundant to miss mean that they will be loved into the next world and on and on.

May the man that met these two on his path find his way to the merciful grace awaiting him after the human suffering has gone from his breath.

surrealist jokes

How many surrealists does it take to screw in a light bulb?

To get to the other side.

Or, I ask you, how many surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?

Two, one to hold the giraffe, and one to put the clocks in the bath tub.

Interfaith Understanding: Overview

Split the Labor of the Children:

A Manifesto for Interfaith Understanding, in 2 short Chapters

Overview of Two Chapters

Chapter one:

1.     Manifesto Poem

2.     Commentary on the Poem – Intentions for Bridging Communities

Chapter two:

1.     How does transformation of culture happen? How can we hold tight to our visioning and be effective in making lasting cultural transformations?

 

Chapter one: The Manifesto Poem

“Split the labor of the children”

Can I trace my fingers along the route of your pain
promise I won't tell
against the window pane
you are so insane

Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France

Into the Americas and laundry machines?
reactive revolutions
poverty versus material wealth
split the labor of the children
into factories and laboratories
you take the eyelash butterfly kisses on the cheek
I will take the tantrums and the attitude
you take the good behavior
and confused wandering looks
I will take the shame of her blood on

You take the clutter
I will take the mess
I could listen for hours
and frown at your shoelaces
because I learned on Velcro
the younger are all about TIVO

I hated waiting in line
I hated when adults watched over
to see if I would tie the laces
in correct bows

Bow Ties Don’t Matter

my election year is all about
the emancipation of the elements
the stories begin in trattorias
they begin with the Sioux
fry bread on the reservation
and poisoned water

they begin with tragedy
leathered skin and buffalo breath
they begin at the end.

you know what, my Muslim brothers?
My Christian brothers? My Buddhist Brothers?
My Jewish brothers?

Female body parts have names. Female body parts are never generic.
they have color, identity
that do not fit in a photograph or a song
or any form of media you water
her down into
for convenience, some way
to take her with you
without taking her with you
without knowing her

without touching the essence
of her, though you thought of her,
arousal was imminent.

you want to leave now, my Muslim brothers
my Christian brothers and all the other ones
who claim female bodies signify lesser beings
further away from spirit
without really touching her essence
but oh, how you explored her body.

Oh, how you explored her flesh.
And you may have thought she was
satiated. You may have thought
satisfaction occurred all around
and around you and her.

without touching her essence
with direct connection
to the ways in which she is divine
you have not even skimmed a surface
of what is possible inside
the spirit vessel
that formed
a female identity

While your Abrahamic interpretation
taints her like a dirty background to your
male perfection and absolution
paints her like a distraction
on your road to completion
sexual completion
religious completion

this is false sight my brothers
this is false teaching
my brothers
for within her is
the lamp lit for
the unspeakable types of pain in human existence
and you might not even know to look
she might not know where to point
inside, where to point inside?
anatomy is the empty shell of our skeletal mirror
it shows nothing beyond the first one or two dimensions

we are multidimensional beings
society banks on the fact that
women and certain others
do not find their worth, their light, their inherent power
their remembrance of the breath in
breath out
is what it all comes down to

we can teach more, give more, love more, laugh more
break the molds handed to us, if we are taught
how we
are not defined by the form we take
my brothers
this is the law
laid down at a beginning
we cannot grasp

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Commentary on Poem: Intention for Bridging Communities

 

I use this poem as a teacher of Interfaith values, because it states in no uncertain terms what the false sight and false teaching is about women.

This must be addressed in Interfaith settings due to the history and current damage done by what I have identified. This can be a very touchy and controversial topic. The claim I make is far reaching. I call on the brothers of all the mainstream faiths, and others if they will tune in. The centuries’ old painful and destructive religious mistake made over and over has sent messages out into the crowds of people that God is somehow invested in a sexist, strange gender hierarchy that men are always at the top of.

If there had been resistance to this horrifying and inaccurate message, all that resistance has essentially been stomped out, often violently and repeatedly and consistently. In place of whatever folk tales and indigenous stories that almost universally contain more gender balance than Judeo Christian and Islamic faith teachings, we have been given the map to self - destruction and daily self-desecration.

The undoing of what has been done to a huge part of the human psyche will take some real effort. I see my poem as an offering to the fates that carry us through whatever gates we may find, from this suffering world of false sight and false teaching, to a place, or to different worlds even, that render us renewed, healed, whole and overwhelmingly at peace. If I can feel this and dream it awake, I know it is just and real and possible as this current place of quite the opposite, chaos and confusion as the normal experience.

Tina Turner. Peace Mantra

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6XP-f7wPM0A&index=1&list=LLL-cKcfU9X3Kju_Vk2R4KLQ

Bury my heart at wounded knee, By Buffy Saint Marie

Lyrics

INTRO:
Indian legislation on the desk of a do-right Congressman
Now, he don't know much about the issue
so he picks up the phone and he asks advice from the
Senator out in Indian country
A darling of the energy companies who are
ripping off what's left of the reservations. Huh.

1.
I learned a safety rule
I don't know who to thank
Don't stand between the reservation and the
corporate bank
They send in federal tanks
It isn't nice but it's reality

chorus:
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee
Deep in the Earth
Cover me with pretty lies
bury my heart at Wounded Knee. Huh.

2.
They got these energy companies that want the land
and they've got churches by the dozen who want to
guide our hands
and sign Mother Earth over to pollution, war and
greed
Get rich... get rich quick.

chorus...

3. We got the federal marshals
We got the covert spies
We got the liars by the fire
We got the FBIs
They lie in court and get nailed
and still Peltier goes off to jail

chorus...

4.
My girlfriend Annie Mae talked about uranium
Her head was filled with bullets and her body dumped
The FBI cut off her hands and told us she'd died of
exposure
Loo loo loo loo loo

chorus...

We had the Goldrush Wars
Aw, didn't we learn to crawl and still our history gets
written in a liar's scrawl
They tell 'ya "Honey, you can still be an Indian
d-d-down at the 'Y'
on Saturday nights"

Bury my heart at Wounded Knee
Deep in the Earth
Cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at Wounded Knee. Huh!

reaching you

take the path less traveled.
take the path of beauty.
take this path
right before you
each step appearing
flashing golden
silvery rainbow
you stand before
the greatness
the path
of beautiful reverence
the path of
every day magic
unfold
before
you step
you take the path
of integrity
of wholeness
of sharing the goodness
the greatness with those
who have always felt
cut off from grace
you let it shine from your face
with every intention of
allowing it to bounce off your
beaming light show
into them, those you don't even know
because you know
inside they will quiver
when shown mercy
they will bow
when they find out how
you did it all
for the greater good
for the time that stands still
and how when we tune into the
frequency we truly seek
we turn the other cheek
we don't have to wait till the end of the week
to get this compensation
take the path of beauty
the walk of compassion
the driving force of hope
teaching those in need how to cope.
walk this path
with me
walk this path
if you want to see
everyone
getting free
no exceptions
walk this path with me
if you agree.

Transformation through Forgiveness

 In the 1960's, they said, war is over, if you want it. if you want it to be over, it is. Now, that is an oversimplified statement by some folks who had probably smoked something that made them feel wise. Here in 2015, wars still exist.

So, when the dust settles and the smoke clears, leaving us with our own thoughts, how mixed up with different layers and intentions we find they are! We all have that going on, some of the time at least.

Peace has many components. It is not simple or boring! One of the greatest enemies of peace in our hearts, communities and in this world is that folks think peace is just sitting still, saying mantras or prayers and not DOING anything.

Peace makers, who really understand that without justice there will never be peace, without eliminating exploitation know there will still be those who rage against injustice, and are right to do so. Peace for those who have what they need and then some, is not peace for all. Peace, prosperity and justice are so totally and utterly intertwined I cannot imagine someone trying to take them apart.

For this exact reason, I have developed the 7 steps for the Prosperity movement. We all need concrete steps to take toward the world that I argue, MOST of us really want.

People ask me how the currency aspect will work. I have some ideas about that, ones that can be modified to fit the best model to be implemented for each self defined community. I ask that if you are first coming to this kind of visioning and want to understand how it could be manifested, first think of it this way.

If you have a bank account, if you have a wallet, you have probably put currency in these containers and taken it out to buy what you wanted or needed. Here a flash of truth, that currency USD, yen, Euros and so on, is entirely made up.

Since it is made up, our gaps between the wealthy and the poor throughout human history are made up. The suffering created by greed and prejudice and so on has been such a part of our psychological make up as people, that we have been essentially trained to think inside of these made up conditions for suffering.

Delving further into this mess, some of the healing we need to do on individual levels and on the group level, is transformation through forgiveness. Anxiety and other types of pain around poverty and the violence that can come with poverty are encoded in the DNA of many, many people. This DNA level of pain is carried in folks of a myriad of different backgrounds and cannot be ignored much longer.

Many of our ancestors did not go through what many of them went through so that we, their descendants can create negative situations over and over, making the same mistakes previous human societies have made. We need to evolve past those mistakes and we need to enlighten ourselves and awaken ourselves to the temporary nature of the physical world including what money can buy and do.

Once we begin to wake up around these tender places, we will be able to transform our lives and our planet in ways most of us have not thought was possible. When we forgive ourselves, for every and anything, we change the spiritual temperature of our existence. We introduce compassion. When we forgive each other, not because the person or group deserves or does not deserve this, but because the process of forgiveness and the results of it are so desirable, we literally change our world, our interactions our transactions.

We think we have been trapped, that the anger and bitterness of old pain and suffering will always suck us in.

We are not trapped. We are on the brink of permanently getting free from that which does not sustain humanity and respect the animal, plant and spirit worlds. We are so close to it, some of us can almost smell or taste it.

This long needed alternative requires a shift from what we know, from our comfort zones. Growing pains will happen. But I promise, if we stay focused on goals that serve the highest good, the rewards from this work will be beyond what we can imagine, in a powerful, loving, centered, profound way.

I urge you to stay with me as the changes we will make, mind, heart, body and spirit begin to take hold. We are at an incredible crossroads.

Love yourself, every crevice and part of your body. Love other people, give them space, respect their boundaries. Dig deep for the compassion we need. I am with you and will update soon!!

 

Here are: The 7 steps for the Prosperity Movement, which I have created as a starting point for discussions about what currency could mean for the world, and is moving in a direction away from what it has been:

1.      Create Currency according to need not greed. A certain amount of agreed upon currency that lasts a lifetime is in place for Every human birth.

 2. Regarding all those who live below the poverty level, they receive an amount to last them a lifetime, and can be resupplied if the currency was spent on any sort of help or treatment for anything at all that is hurting the person.

3. The few limitations put upon these amounts for all in need or who want the benefit of this new currency, must agree to let go ALL weapons of War. Guns, swords, battleships, Air Force, Navy, and all Military paraphernalia will be melted down or otherwise transformed into useful items that promote life, beauty, health and all manner of good and blessed things. We cannot keep peace and prepare for war.

 4. The prosperity's revolutionary aspect maintains the stance that military pacifists are at the forefront of this movement. Our financial abundance and potential happiness as humans depends closely upon the end of WAR as we know it.

 5. The community organization and main template connect directly to the Planetary Healing Arts Enterprise.

 6. Any person receiving this currency may have need for a specific kind of healing.

 7. This could be a call for massage, surgery, eyeglasses, knee braces and treatment for any ailment out there.  All is covered by the enterprise, and it is worldwide, covering therapy, physical or emotional.

 

1. Time and 2. Blazing

we are running out of time

by running away from time
running faster than time

we need to slow down
catch up to ourselves

a soul sick people
lunging at each other
grabbing at the air
boasting handfuls of nothing

locked apart into boxes of race and gender
false symbols surround us
staring through blank empty eyes

from so many news outlets, media darlings

who still rages against
the sorriest excuse for a culture
we built the systems that work against us
we can tear them down

we built institutions that imprison us
we will tear them down

my spirit will not rest
until we awaken
trace the lines of your face
know your ancestors are with you
in every place

we have to slow down
heal what has been broken
listen for what has yet to be spoken

"blazing"

He seems to have stolen
genuine pieces of my emotion
with his eyes
for some kind of private stash

he stole it but equally I gave it
his brokenness more apparent with each
self revealing story
and intensity
that could burn holes into a person
blazing from his gaze

why always these wounded ones
I want to take into my flesh
as if that is the answer

to the silent screaming questions
he pounds the floor with his fist now
asking and yet unaware
how his kiss
is filled with past addictions
tangible to me

I call on all my strength in reserve
just in case
because who knows? I might need it
He does not even want
the sweet sincerity exuding from me accidentally
and it sounds all melancholy but it is truth

pouring into a river unto itself
deep beneath the currents of
surface conversation breaths
breathing seething
what else can I do?
making all these sounds and moves not connected
to anything
trying what feels old and too familiar to me
like melancholy

what we do- from 2005

this inexplicably
begs to be seen and known
clamors to be known by more than me

that for a mere nothing you stare back at me
like a loving innocent child

that for reasons I cannot name
I love you

being in love, the repetition of days on our skin
you leaking from my gorgeous dreams

you are better in a fantasy I admit
you can be harsh and then you calculate gentle
somewhere

is there a place where we end
or we are such rivers
each given to a necessary flowing

crashing against shores is what we do, is part of us
that you have precise beauty
even as I stand alone

without you, stardust across my cheeks
wanting you
wanting those moments to return
I lose my voice as we crash into waves
of unfolding

this internal river
the one that speaks
when we die too much
live too much
breathe and keep going

always rivers we become
because there is no place we end
the mouth of the river
and the endless timeless
truth of it all

the fire is not so
is not the same, it takes what can burn

so we are just this
tears, water from your past

making a present that is not
quite
bearable.

"thirsting" from 2005

this woman
is of a green world
sliding into tomorrow
and yesterday was a refuge
world of grey material
tree blessing thirsting for movement
struggling like branches against the wind

no romantic endings

just a perpetual beginning
attach no strings to her
hold her in no invisible chains
coming back to a darkness not to be feared

to a place created by a source
not unlike love

more where that funny came from.......

How many times is it appropriate to say "what?" before you smile and nod
because you still do not understand what they meant

why do psychics have to ask your name??

warning, the consumption of alcohol may cause you to think you can sing.

a bank is a place that will lend you money if you can prove you don't need it

on the other hand, you have different fingers

some drink at the fountain of knowledge. some just gargle

hard work never killed anyone but why take the chance?

Going to church doesn't make you Christian anymore than
standing in a garage makes you an automobile.

I have had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this was not it.

If ignorance is bliss, why aren't more people happy?

If you cannot be kind, at least be vague.

one tequila two tequila three tequila FLOOR

3 religious truths:

1. Jews do not recognize Jesus as the Messiah.

2. Protestants do not recognize the Pope as their leader.

3. Baptists do not recognize each other at the liquor store or at Hooters.

What you have all been waiting for, an Article or Post on Cheating!!

I would like to start by saying this: most of what people have learned about love and relationships are toxic. The rest of it is neutral or good. It comes down to that!

Much of what we, regardless of background or common ways we identify, have seen are highly dysfunctional models of communication, when it comes to sexual and or romantic dynamics.

I will skip all the reasons and statistics and so on that have led us to where we are, because those things are not the most important pieces to have on hand when it comes to improving ourselves and our sexual and romantic lives.

The conditions that led societies to create love dynamics around heterosexual marriage and giving birth to at least one child are no longer with us. The conditions we live in now, actually dictate that we become more conscious and aware of when and why we procreate, not simply because the human population is way to large for and disrespectful of the earth.

As we evolve as humans, and choose to question the social norms and expectations once we reach adulthood, we may have come to our own conclusions. We may have experienced sex as a truly great force or we may find it is greatly lacking when it comes to what we truly want.

We go through phases where we feel pressured, either by our own idea of what we need to do, or by the other person who wants more than you want to give, or by society in general. The pressure from society on men is mostly to be sexual and to sexualize any given situation. The pressure on women to be sexual, ready to have sex and yet maintain a distance or provide a challenge for a man is really just a game handed to us by terrible media and awful expectations that nobody should have to live up to.

All that said, we have to now reckon with the idea of cheating. If you have developed a sexual bond with another human, by sleeping together, of course, there are inevitably the flare ups of possessive feelings that happen, on one side or on both sides. If you slap a label on this generally layered and complicated reality, that does no good at all, in keeping them tethered to you. They will stay or they will go, depending on reasons they may or may not be ready to share, or even due to reasons they have no idea how to explain or express.

Many people are in phases where they are somewhat at the mercy of emotions or even blocked emotions that dictate their actions around sex and the possibility of love. I encourage anyone thinking about these phases or considering what I am truly saying, to ask themselves, is there such a thing as cheating? Is there such a thing as stealing someone away?

The only way this idea of cheating and stealing people would apply is if the person who strays from the sexual or love bond has no idea what or why they are doing, and even if that is the case, which it almost never is, it falls under a category of love and sex as tools for ownership, tools for a trade.

Love and sex are not about ownership. They are not up for grabs. They involve many human tendencies, the tendency to be disconnected from our bodies, or to be fully present, or to be semi present, or to deny and suppress needs and desires that are too scary to put words to.
This is all part of being human, male, female, transgender and so on.

Since we must evolve, or die trying, let us ease up on this antiquated and unhelpful idea of cheating, and ownership. Instead, may we seek ownership over our own abilities and practices that liberate us each and every one, defining this liberation, from me to you, from him to her, and so on, until our sexual and romantic lives shine with the manifesting light of what can be, not what they have been.

In the spirit of Love, Truth and Transparency,

Juliana

AKA Imaya

Dream Work and other Updates

Hello all,

I just created a category for Restorative Shamanic Dream Work,  for those who wish to be familiarized with the work that I do.

"These sessions are designed to meet the needs of each individual client. At the heart of the work is the acknowledgement that we are powerful creators of our own destiny and we must protect ourselves and others from harm of all kinds. My work can help you identify patterns you want to shift, it can assist you in creating space in and around yourself that feels positive, and encourages integrity, intuition and clarity. Please contact me for an assessment, and you can ask more questions at that time. I have limited space here to explain. I work with people to create ceremonies, involving earth, air, fire and water that speak to the heart of their most pressing needs and concerns. Boundaries are critical and there is no binding contract. If one needs to walk away, one can do so at any time. Thanks for your interest and be well. Be kind to yourself!!"

The best way to reach me now is through the website : www.imayasmodalities.com

In closing for today, do not hesitate to reach out and I wish

Great Blessings on All of you, sentient beings, Planet Earth.

Lots of Love, Imaya

business signs and other important sentences

Gynecologist's office: Dr. Jones, at your cervix.

Where there is a will, I want to be in it

Can you be a closet claustrophobic?

Did you hear about the Muslim strip club? It features full facial nudity.

You can't pin anything on a nudist.

Complex problems have simple easy to remember wrong answers.

Help someone in trouble and they will ask for your help when they are in trouble again

Slogan for a baby shirt: Party, my crib, 2 AM

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Heck is where people go who do not believe in Gosh.

We all have similar paths to discover.

Sometimes the work we have done in getting to know a certain person, for a particular part of their journey comes to a close.

It may feel abrupt but it rarely is the case that there were no signs. Angry outbursts, tempers flaring, all these are signs that things are not going well.

If as time goes on, you sense that deep down in the other person has a tendency to fool themselves, and lie to themselves, it is imperative you take time apart so that they can feel what it was inside them that drove their partner to question everything. Time that was spent together to understand what each person wants may end up feeling like it was futile.

Here is the revelation that not all people come to realize:

The one who fools him or her self, the fool who hides from the deep down truth, well, this is an archetype that is sacred to the Goddess. The goddess is an archetype in one sense and is real and alive inside people in another sense.

I have come to the point where I have to listen to my higher self about each person I encounter and when I do, the answers that come are not always easy.

Moving into a new phase- spirit of Transparency- can you get with this?

I am starting to prepare and practice the ceremonies to share with those who are on the same or a similar enough page to get down with my conscious intention shaping.

The idea is that we more or less become the change we want to see and that this becoming encompasses many others besides the usual suspects aka: folks who are doing their self work and/or work in the world to make change.

Identifying some of the biggest problems we face will be a start. They include polarization between groups, folks isolating from feeling overwhelmed by their own trauma or stress and denial that our condition as a species needs serious attention and tending to.

Censorship has been the name of the game, but that is changing, because oppressive forces cannot hold back the spirit of that which wants to evolve, get higher, better, more whole..

Comedy is a healing art. Drama, plays, improvisational activities are part of the healing way. If we cannot find formats to tell whatever stories we need or want to tell with a comedy slant or tragedy slant or a mix of all of them, we will feel stifled, controlled, and we will need to break free.

Any person who feels stifled or controlled or pushed to behave and or not behave in any particular way will at some point rebel. There are consequences to stifling feelings, the main consequence is that is how chi or prana, kundalini, (will explain later) gets blocked, then disease begins. Cancer begins with the overproduction of cells that lack comprehensible mitochondria, which is the powerhouse or leader of each cell. When too many cells have been produced that do not function properly, they become a tumor.

Tumors can grow exponentially due to lack of the proper diet, exercise, and healing energy treatments. This origin and the origin of almost all if not all diseases, are essentially connected to how our minds work. If we have been nurtured and respected, our bodies respond. The "Secret" of water is simply broken down to remind us that saline solution which helps our eyes when we need contacts is the same water of our blood and bodies. The water cycles in nature that have been with us on Gaia since the beginning of our ancestors and their dance with time are the same as they have ever been.

We just have to turn back the clock, so to speak, in our own minds and conscious reflections to find a space, our original reflection and face that feels familiar to us and we can from there, counteract illness, famine, pain, sadness, and all the shadows the human race can offer.

Sound simple? Of course not. I will update soon.

I will be dust I will be rain

Forward:

I write this not just for myself, to lift these stories off my chest and into the minds and hearts of my readers. I write this for you who have survived incredibly painful times and for whatever reason have not yet been able to get your story of personal trauma and recovery out of your body and onto paper or into a space held by a caring person. I dedicate this work of personal and real experiences to you. I pray that as many of you as possible find solace and healing through the sharing of the personal revelations and truth telling I have done and will continue to do. May you free yourself from suffering and find immense joy, elation and freedom, whosoever you might be.  

Chapter 1. 1994

“Army Green”

Disclaimer: (14 years old, freshman at Green Ranch High School-- All names of people, sometimes even my name, are changed to the names of colors. They are randomly assigned for fun and for anonymity. )

What kind of image do I try to project? I wonder. I have to think about that. I am surprised by the arrogance I used to display.  Yes, beginnings. I like change. I could keep writing for hours, there are so many nagging diversions. Listening to Tori Amos, and I wish I did not associate her with Army Green. Oh I wrote almost a page before mentioning him? Good, good. I guess I can start talking about him. Why not? Everything else seems to have begun since him. I will be honest and not worry about sounding silly. No, no that is not right. I do not feel like going into depth right now. So there, changing my mind. Hey, that’s new! It just gets old you know? I do not have to make excuses and justify myself. I am so ridiculously insecure. I do try to lose myself writing. Maybe this talent, if I possess any, should be developed slowly. Ok, sleep, school, and then I can die; my current state of mind.

“He heard, but didn’t listen”

Maybe the only guy who ever loved me fucked me over twice. I wanted his affection, and embrace, I thought I loved him immensely. Who knows if he cared at all? He knows. I know he did not care enough to make sure it was safe sex.

He said “You and I don’t make love, we fuck or we screw.” As happy as I’d be to forget this, I won’t. Maybe I don’t want to. Lifetime celibacy sounds appealing. No, sounds like a prison term.

I can’t believe what I did with him was sex. I was scared out of my mind for weeks after, struggling with the idea of pregnancy. He was supportive to an extent. He was so worried. I have a lot of compassion for him. I wish I didn’t. Everything would be simpler. The first time, I said “No.” He heard but didn’t listen. I didn’t try to physically stop him after saying no. I was in shock for a while, wandering around silenced by the enormity of the event. Writing about it seems to take the weight off of it.

It wasn’t exactly romantic. The atmosphere, I mean. I go back and forth now, between depression and a forced, trivial contentedness. I keep flashing on it and pushing it out of my mind desperately. I have recovered, though. But I have been feeling hideously ugly and as if he never loved me, but he says he does. Or I doubt he even liked me at all, which I suppose, is ridiculous. I am struggling to get past all of this. So, there it is… my recent sob story. I wonder if this will happen again. No, I’ll take care of myself. Is it worth it?

“Cosmic Latte”

I woke up today, to realize I was going to go back to sleep. So I did, until my father came in reminding me there was an appointment with my parents, school counselor and me that I had missed. Then he took me out to brunch. So, I am going to bring up my pathetic grades am I? I know as well as anyone that it is my lack of any real effort that earns me those shit grades. And to whom do I owe a future? Perhaps only to myself, do I really owe anything.  It would be nice to not flunk the ninth grade. What is my incentive? I have simple desires. I want to live near a body of water. I remember that lake in Canada and how the world is full of such beauty. I will get through this.

After lunch/4^th period.

I dread sitting here; wasting time, twisted time, strangled by school.

Hi, I am Electric Lavender, (me) I try to be someone else because I am scared of how mean people can be.

Hi, I am Cosmic Latte. I pretty much do whatever the fuck I want and I throw my moods around.

Hi, I’m Electric Lavender. I have grown disgustingly cynical and depressing. It is not cool to trash everyone always.

 “Natural love and Radiance”

“To be trusted is a far greater compliment than to be loved” Although, I do think it is nice to have your love returned. I stop myself from loving or attempt to stop myself from loving anyone who does not love me, which is everyone.

 Cosmic Latte and I had a beautiful time in the graveyard. The clean dusk scent was in the air, the fading light holding onto the sky with a magical grasp. I want to remember how it all looked. We smoked a bowl cheerfully, the lights got blurry, and my heart filled with a natural love, and radiance. We moved around and spoke, seeming so far away and so a part of it all. I can’t describe it. I could never capture my high with words. Images cannot really be explained.

At play rehearsal, it faded, though for awhile everyone had such a glow. I started to get frantic at one point when I remembered Army Green. I saw myself; I felt it, felt him inside me again. So I had to lie down, push it and shove it out of my mind, away from me. So, since then, I feel needy. I can’t wait till spring break.

 

 

“Dark Slate Blue”

Last night was pretty. It is less than 10 minutes into First Period. I already am crashing. I am so worried; I think I am falling in love with Dark Slate Blue. He is the most angelic, beautiful person. He is too good for me. I can’t fall in love with him. Pastel Pink deserves him. He likes me, as a friend. I want to have a chance to be alone with him only I don’t trust myself. Dark Slate Blue and I have a good connection. I love listening to him. He was telling me how he lost his virginity, he was really drunk. I mean, he is so beautiful. When I feel like this about someone I am blind to their faults. In my eyes, they have none. That’s why I sort of let Army Green have what he wanted.

Dark Slate Blue is so caring and compassionate and shy and I can’t help wanting to do whatever I can for him. It is in a way, the way I felt for Army Green, or thought I did. This year is turning out so wrong. I lost my virginity and now I am struggling not to fall for someone who belongs to another. I wish it was simple. I have turned into what I hate, I am pathetic. I earned 2 detentions in Algebra. I was tardy. I want my friend to be happy, but she has what I want. Forget it! I must find someone else or no one.

What are these murderous thoughts? I wanted someone to cling to. Play rehearsal is fun when I am stoned. I should not go stoned to rehearsal twice in one week, could ruin that reputation I worked so hard at. I wish I could be invisible and fly. I talked to Deep Space Sparkle! I miss my darling Deep Space Sparkle. I must see her over the break. Why am I so attracted to jerks? Cosmic Latte needs to get over herself. Her depressed, withdrawn, melancholy act gets old. And yet, when she is cheerful it seems so insincere. I wish she could be easier to react to. Wow, I just realized I set the tone of this journal and I always sound so pissed or unhappy. Cosmic Latte attempts to think metaphorically and symbolically, she tries to train herself to think and speak a certain way. It is frustrating. When I think of Army Green, it jerks me back to reality. I don’t need him, or any other guy who would do what he did. I mean, abortion, childbirth, I did not think these things were going to affect me this year! Why am I so attracted to jerks? My first instinct when I had my period was to never have sex again. Today, I feel like a lot less of a person than I did yesterday.

 “Dust Storm glamorized it”

I can’t laugh very much. I mean, I can’t feel the laughter as well as I used to be able to. I did not feel anything emotionally when Army Green touched me, which is why I let him do almost anything to me. I won’t let that happen again. It’s strange, you know? I got mixed messages about sex. Dust Storm glamorized it, so I only listened to her because I wanted to believe what she was saying. It could have been so wonderful, I think. What would have been sane?

 Chapter 2.  The Aftermath

His cheeks flushed

I remained some steps away

Gathering ashes from our remains

The moon imperceptibly frowned on us

As we shivered from the damp grass

A subtle fury in me subsided

Maybe my battle is over

Maybe a cycle is complete

A hasty repair for an old wound

Something died and he won’t see it

Something killed me and he doesn’t know it

But I do

And he will always

Unknowingly have a little of me

The worst is over.

Army Green and I have not spoken in quite a long time. I want to make contact but he has other people who are more important to him, or at least easier for him to face.

“Spur of the moment, while in class”

Contradiction and painful friction

It is the fashion of my passion to not deny my page a rainbow rage

In this nation of voluntary segregation, the so called authorities cease to pull together

The pieces of hate, unable to clean the slate, do you relate? Or complicate the strife in life which matters

In a culture which flatters the twisted ego of the girl begins to shake shiver and twirl a lock of hair, round her finger, watching a memory linger, incessant sound all around, her sex was violent her violence was silence, her hand carries out a plan of action, tiny fraction of rhyme this time, my message is woven within,

Interconnected to what is affected, everyone burned by the ultraviolet sunlight having miracles to fight, but disease? Oh please, contradiction, painful friction.

“Fear of rejection, like an infection”

I wonder why they all look the same to me, it might just be a game to me, I am waiting to wake up, get locked up, get shut out, waiting to free myself, unlock the cages, let them out, waiting for them to see, to set themselves free, to unleash the tight reign of societal strain, material gain, personal pain, how can I explain? I don’t hear my words anymore, mute scrawling filling the pages which fold into days, holding something not quite finished yet diminished, partly reduced from actual size seems much smaller than how it feels, I fell through the cracks are getting bigger each time duller with each rhyme.

So physical reality doesn’t affect me and emotions run stiff and dry like my eyes or my thighs sore from flight not fright, didn’t put up a fight I saw it coming a lifetime away and waited. Like I am waiting now, for the rest to relapse or progress. Either way, here we are. This is who I am. It is so scary to look in between the distances between people and analyze the spaces we create, to study the silence and see the remains of how we related, the leftover pain, the unanswered questions, the skid marks from hasty escapes, the vacant holes where intimacy used to be, it’s disturbing. The scars from random insults slung carelessly from all directions, the hushed whisper of deep rooted resentment glowing from in all corners, seething and spreading, and then there is the time spent wasting away from fear of rejection, like an infection.

There is not enough material to patch up mistakes, not enough energy for dedication to communication, and the overwhelming sensations which seem to end the fastest while whole swollen rivers of rage keep flowing and we are forced out of obligation to keep rowing hating it more with each stroke knowing it won’t be long before you choke, the tide makes enemies, we ride waves of stony submission, succumbed to inevitable forces.

So I thought I had wanted this to happen ever since I met Dark Slate Blue. I have had the biggest crush on him. I did not want this to happen the way it did and now I wonder if it should have happened at all. He said he “respects me too much” and “cares about me, doesn’t want to hurt me.” He is so sexy, and has so much of him hidden away. We talked for a while about a lot, I asked him if any of what I had said had gotten through and he said it had. There were a million things wrong with that night but the fact that we did it does not have to be one of them. He feels it was a mistake.

So, lust fades and if that is all it was it will be over. I asked him to please not let anything change because of it and he agreed. He said he does not want to reduce me to “fuck friend” or whatever he calls his past. Usually we stop before we go all the way; he was so fucking drunk last night. I can’t believe what he said. “You are the sexiest girl I have ever met.” He said he wanted me really bad, he respects me, and I am really easy to talk to….but he is in love with his best friend. Ah! I always fuck this shit up! It was never meant to happen, I was just never meant to have anything I really want. How is this for luck? I just wish it would all work out the way I want it to, the way it should be. I could be so good for him, I could be. We’ll see.

I told him I could love him, and he replied flatly, “There is nothing to love.” I disagreed, with all the sincerity I could muster and it went on that way for quite a bit, I was trying to convince him of his worth and the whole picture became sharp with clarity. He is sensitive, hurt, talented, guarded, troubled and artistic. He has more than charm and sex appeal going for him but it doesn’t matter how much I tell him that, it has got to come from within him. I know it is not love, it was lust and he warned me of that. So, I am left the morning after feeling used, cheap and deeply alone, emptied.

The party happened Friday night. Parts of it were really good. I acted and felt insecure, and it was not all because of Dark Slate Blue. We did not get a chance to talk. Oh, I hope he comes around. I really do, but I also do not think he ever will. I just spoke with Dark Maroon, honest, mostly on his part, I feigned acceptance of his truth. Dark Slate Blue will never feel about me the way that I feel about him. I must come to understand and accept this. Dark Maroon is here playing guitar. It is a treat, really. Halloween is tomorrow. The plan is to get wasted in the cemetery. It should be fun.

For “Dark Slate Blue”

I wonder, you see about what could be

The reason they have to hurt him

What, please tell me, could they be thinking

When they try their hardest to break him?

Help me out

How could you hurt a child so young, so new to the world, so innocent?

How could you rip out his heart, say he must never show fear

You won’t let him feel, you won’t let him live

He tears at the cage you’ve built

He tears at himself, his heart he can’t have

Screaming inward and lashing out

The rage in his eyes turns itself into lies

The mirror, his own worst enemy

Reflection too real, he will always feel

Those punches you threw to silence him

You hear his rage through your own thick walls

The bars on his cage grow weaker

He knows it’s his mind, he knows it’s his life

It was only a matter of time

Before he took it

Back from you

Who brought him here

I still can’t see why you hurt him

I know about cycles I see how it works

But somewhere it has to end

All I want is for you to set free

This boy, who I call “Friend”

 

 

And another one for Dark Slate Blue:

“Unresolved”

I want to see you so much, it hurts.

I hate it.

I hate the open sores you have carved into me

And the power you don’t even know you have.

I want to hold you so much, it aches

I resent it.

I resent how you trigger this hunger in me and that ache of emptiness

That inevitably follows

I resent you have this power you don’t even care you have

I want to heal you so much that it eats away at me, a raw, panicked urge awakened in me

Eating away at my strength

This blessed strength I have been admired for,

It becomes my weakness, a curse, this longing to heal others and yet absolutely no idea how to

I resent it. I hate the power I gave you and I know you fear me,

I can tell by the distance you have put between us, carefully measured; quietly calculated

From behind a wide, shy gaze, and because I know too much, you fear me.

I know you want to love, it is written all over the hopeful grin

Your lips have searched out answers on mine, to questions only beginning to form

Those newborn thoughts in a way too old mind, if only I could dissolve the fear into trust

If I could close the distance and find the answers you seek

And your eyes sometimes meet mine but only with an edge of wariness

Through a guarded gaze, a poorly designed maze in your voice, so much hesitation,

Transparently timid, your tone is conclusive and lined with regret

I have circled your cages of fear. I found no answers, though I was never asked for any.

And no tangible traces of intimacy, no leftover sidelong glances

And what once could have been recedes from your shores before even arriving.

I have felt my way here to you, fingertips tracing the way, my eyes decoding yours

And they have said; I could love again I could trust again; but not you and not now.

Still your lips have sought out answers on mine

To questions just beginning to form

Tangled in tight webs of distrust, fists clenched

Tough boy, because I know too much

You fear me.

 

Regarding the one I wrote the “Unresolved” piece for: (Dark Slate Blue)

 “Flirtatious chemistry”

Dark Slate Blue was as sweet and shy as ever, while I felt sad and desperate and confused and conflicted and pained all at once. Our words said nothing and we shifted our weight from foot to foot awkwardly in front of each other, conflicted and pained all at once. I avoided his eyes so he would not be given the chance to look away from me.

Last night I hung out a bit with Dark Slate Blue on school campus after dark. Other people were there but we had a chance to talk, just the two of us. He was drunk and seemed more open than usual. My friend Pastel Blue said it showed that we have feelings for each other. He is back together with Charcoal Violet, but I am sure she is different with him away from school. He and I will always have our flirtatious chemistry and we both know it.

Chapter 3. “After words, After math, After birth, After death”

“So much to prove”

Empty.

I feel it hit the bottom of my stomach, 80 proof because I had so much to prove

My lips are tingling, I feel something now, and it rushes up to flush my cheeks

So thick, so real, reeling forward, I hear my voice and it is unfamiliar, my breath is too

But now my body is not part of me, I shiver with satisfaction at that thought, which

Begins to slur, Slurred thoughts take over

 

“Cannot hide”

 

By the second hit, it is dissolving layers of me

Sinking my eyes into my head

Cage, caving in

Hollow and light less

Hitting truth like it is a pipe

Inhaling like the hits before

This hit of truth hits the hardest and I cannot exhale

In my bloodstream now it beelines for my head

Fucking with my thoughts, they are real

Fucks with my feelings

Takes hold of my heart and won’t let go

Squeezing the pain up to conscious thoughts

Exposing scars I would never show willingly

I cannot get away from myself, I cannot hide now

I hate what he stole and what I gave; I hate what I have done

And who it has made me become and he does not seem to understand

Because I act like I am proud of it to cover my shame

How could anyone feel good about (sex after rape?)

Self - exploitation and abandonment

The layers fall away, one by one; revealing nothing of who I am.

 

 

“Conscious nests”

Delicate, ragged souls, singed by relentless persecution

They are the forgotten, the voices of the buried alive, innocent, ancient whispers

Pounding your ears and your conscience

Tracing your vision and some can taste them woven into the cracks between

This reality and the other ones

Unseen gaunt pale flower faces

With stems and roots in us

Ancestor children

Digging through poisoned layers

To reach our throats, my neck outstretches itself.

 

New Year’s Resolutions

 

I did not make any resolutions; I resolve to quit making false resolutions.

If I think of real ones, I will write them down.

If not, I hope I am still a good person…..

 

I planted a seed for a friend of mine; she has had a hard year.

It should blossom come spring.

I planted a seed for my grandparents; they have lived long and hard.

All flowers eventually wilt.

I am reluctant to plant any seeds for myself

I might neglect to water them

They would die before their time when I could have saved them

 

“Every thought”

You spent childhood locked in the basement of depression

Submerged in the holding tank they called school

Trying to regurgitate what they called “education”

But you choke on their lies

Malnourishment coating every thought

Your mind thick and sick with mistrust and mistreatment

Misunderstanding

Your prayers get lost on their way to heaven

A nonexistent paradise, you figure

More lies make more cries go unheard

So you turn inward attempting to shut out the unfairness

Eventually striking out with all the rage

Built up over the years and they wonder, what created this monster?

Unable to relate you turn to hate,

To see what you can create

 

Chapter 4 “For Breath”

 

My body is soft to the touch

And I am hardened.

Your words are heard through thick clear plexiglass

I am on the other side, soft, and hardened.

The world swims wild and frantic out of my reach, grasping,

I gasp for breath

Floating to the surface branching out

Sprawled somewhere delicate

My tone resonates in resignation

I have tools for touch, voice blends thought

A stimulus and a comfort

 

Chapter 5.  “Hundreds of feet in the air, suspended there”

 

Here are some excerpts from when I turned 18 and moved out:

Smoke will settle, dust will clear, I must keep some faith, some ration of hope, for without hope, a poet is doomed to her ugliest shade of despair. And, I still care, still care enough to want other colors and shades to play with, to decorate a page with, to destroy a cage with.

This section, both extracted from journals and told from memory, is dedicated to the memory of Gary Nesbit (1979- 2005) ? The exact date and cause of death is not known. I write in gratitude for his life and with reverence for his passing. I use his real name to honor the impact he had, and to set apart this story, since he is no longer with us.

When I met Gary, we were both freshmen, sitting in a drama class at Green Ranch High School. All the students and the teacher were seated in a circle for that class, and as I noticed him, I saw his hand over part of his face and then I saw tears coming down his cheeks. I wanted to say something, but nobody else did, and I sat in an uncomfortable, concerned silence.

After class had been let out, I was walking away from the Little Theater. All of a sudden, Gary appeared next to me, on his bike. I looked at him and asked him what he wanted, I was nervous, and in general, scared of guys. He handed me a piece of paper, I looked at it, and his number was on it. I looked at him and asked why he was giving this to me.

He told me that in class, he had a horrible migraine. That explained the tears I saw. He noticed me and he told me I was the only one who visibly cared about how much pain he was in. I was floored. I had no response. He said I should call him, and then he biked away. I did not call that year. But that is how our story began.

I really fell for him hard back in the day. I was 16, insecure and unhappy, looking for love exclusively in the wrong places. He admitted to using me or feeling as though he was, back then. He said that he would feel empty and come to me and being with me would fill him up, in a sense. Then he would leave me until he needed another fix, so to speak. But what I did not say was I felt the same way about how I treated him, the only difference was that I felt I could love him. Last Saturday, he sounded frustrated, telling me how he never really HAD me, he wanted to have me and he couldn’t. I was quite confused by that. I did not know what to make of all that.

Your mouth searches mine, asking silent questions needing auditory answers I cannot give.

I am so glad he will miss me; he says he will call when he returns. I bet I will be involved with others before then. I am sure he will, too. Maybe I feel like a comfort to him. Who knows what the real craving is? Girls throw themselves at him, but love is not quite so simple. He hates to admit he wants it, or needs it. We don’t say we love each other, but we do, on some level. Perhaps our time will come.

A curious contamination in my heart; my mind struggles against me. Emotions are exhausting themselves, ranging all over the spectrum, and the scales of temperament weighing heavily to one side then nearly breaking with the weight of the other one- Imbalance. The planets are out of synch; the moon must be playing nasty tricks, fooling with the tides of my luck, and officially wearing me out.

I spoke with him tonight; his girlfriend dumped him. He is such a source of confusion at times. He can be gentle and sweet, and an odd combination of very sensitive and very thick skinned. He has his walls up but there are moments when his guard might slip but it goes up just as quickly as it falls. He is a good listener. I think superficially he knows he is attractive but beneath that he feels scared and alone.

 I talked about the irony of him bringing this particular problem to me, there was a pause and I said, but I am the one who still cares, no matter what. He laughed a short laugh and said, “True.”

I was asleep in a bed at my father’s house and he appeared in the doorway, and lay his head down on my stomach. We began talking. I cannot find words for how I feel about all this, I am unsure, it is so mixed. I do want to love someone, perhaps only him, I have been seeing him on and off for a while now. I have known him longer than most of my friends.

He liked me before any of them, and he still likes me. “Like” is not the right word, for his feelings or mine. It does not suffice for a person you sleep with, think about often, want to hold and erase away all their pain and loneliness. I am sick of sacrificing so much though. He has a girlfriend now, once again, and it is not me. I squeeze my feelings into what is convenient for him. I suppress anything that might upset him in the hopes that one day he will want to be with me, officially. It is too complicated to explain. He feels strong and gentle. I try to stay away from the bullshit fantasy that I escape into pretending these guys are so beautiful. It is so embarrassing now thinking of how I thought of all those boys who just wanted sex from me. I got twisted up in unrequited situations for years.

He told me over the phone he wants to be with me and I think is it really me or some woman’s body to warm him when he is cold, what is it about me he really wants? I start to really question this now. I never really looked at this honestly before.

When I talk to him, each good bye, if it were a visual image, I would be hanging from a rope hundreds of feet in the air, suspended there, while the rope burns my hands and I am slowly losing my grip gradually while he is at the top of the mountain, holding the rope mindlessly, glancing down at times, at other times forgetting I am even there.  It is a waste of thoughts and a waste of energy, thinking I am better for him than his girlfriend. The rain seems innocent, the wind seems naïve. He is moving away and it is for the best. I am moving on.

Until, once again, I find that he has left his pager number at my mom’s house, I have it now. He sounds like he wants to see me but why am I letting myself get entangled again? We made a plan, but he did not show up, which is typical. I bet so many people would not be able to handle me. I hate playing the victim like I have been; I am no longer playing half dead.

“Any attachment seems like too much”

Even a flame can be delicate, I am watching my candle burn, and the wick is delicate. The tiny flame itself is fragile. A breeze can make it disappear. I wonder if all flames know the ancient secrets of the spirit of fire.

 I asked Chinese Violet if I seem happy. She responds, No, you seem lonely but struggling to be optimistic. That was fairly accurate. Hearing her say she needs help with how severe her depression gets, is a huge step. She admitted this to me recently. This is something I have known for years but hearing her say it is a big deal. I want her to experience the colors and beauty of life again.

It all began Thursday night at Chinese Violet’s house. A group of us were drinking and eventually people left until it was me, Dark Slate Blue, Chinese Violet, and Desert Sand. I kissed Chinese Violet which led to much more. I had sex with Dark Slate Blue, then Desert Sand. It was insane. At the time I thought I was enjoying it, and I was drunk, thinking it was positive. I talked with Desert Sand for a long time. I like him in a strange way. It almost frightens me. Of course I like Dark Slate Blue and I love Chinese Violet. There is more to that night but I will move on.

Last night I had a bizarre dream, the feeling was the strange part. I was walking down the street with Dark Slate Blue, he was being very vulnerable and I was trying to assure him it was safe to confide in me. We get to the cemetery, it was another group sex situation, only French Beige was there and he was getting in between me and Firebrick, I was very frustrated. Then it became a confusing blurry group of people on some hill in the cemetery.

 All of a sudden, Army Green is there, spiky black hair and drumming away, center of attention. I try to decide how I can prove that I do not care what he thinks. So I attempt to be nonchalant, and think it is a good idea for some reason to throw my arms around him to give him a big hug hello. He gives me an odd, alienating look that clearly says “What the hell are you doing?” I feel horrible and I shrink inside of my skin, away from him, away from the people, I have been feeling really bad.

I watched “Goddess Remembered” tonight in hopes that it would give me comfort and strength but it just made me feel a bit more desolate about the state of the world. These mood swings are intense. I am sick of it and so tired, so very tired. This is the first weekend in a long time I have not been drunk, a bittersweet thought.

I want to heal others so badly and yet I have done such terrible things to myself, not once or twice, but many times. There is much worse I could have done but why anything bad at all? I suppose there is so much bad and pain in the world that maybe it is inevitable and unavoidable that I experience pain or misfortune. But why would I keep inflicting it on myself? That is what’s strange. One reason I came up with is I see so much pain and misery around me and I am so sensitive to it, certain types of suffering, is that I subject myself to it in order to understand it. I do not want to be innocent, sheltered and fragile because to be naïve in this world is a huge risk. Before I didn’t know how it felt to be hurt badly and then it was too late. The more I experienced, I became so numb and then I could endure more. I matured, and some still has not changed.

I ran into Army Green at the Ani Difranco concert. It was oddly not earth shaking. I mean, it did not twist me up in knots of shame, longing, regret and frantic loneliness. He seemed a bit nervous at first. He gave me a real hug; we talked for a bit, small talk. I don’t know, he still affects me, I won’t deny it. But it is such a fraction of how much he used to affect me. My stomach only hurt a little after seeing him. I still have weird, repressed feelings about him and the two worst, most transformative years of my life. I thought I loved him, but what happened was technically rape. And yet I kept going back to him, like a depressed shadow of a teenage girl. Chinese Violet has mentioned how my poetry had changed since that time.

Last night was another spontaneous, drunk episode in this current series of social excursions. It was unexpected. I was at French Lilac’s house with Terra Cotta and Dark Slate Blue. French Lilac and Copper Penny went into her room and disappeared for the night, leaving me alone with Dark Slate Blue and Terra Cotta. I ended up having sex with both of them. Terra Cotta was rough, aggressive and actually hurt me. Even Dark Slate Blue tried to intervene on my behalf. Being with Dark Slate Blue felt better to me, I am much more attracted to him then Terra Cotta, on so many levels. Dark Slate Blue and I have a history, and more of a connection. Terra Cotta acts like he is making a porno.

The next night I was at Cornflower Blue’s house with her cousin, Coral Red. We came close to having sex but then, he stopped me and asked, “Do you want to do this?” I was so thrown off by the question. I really did not know the answer, but I could not FEEL anything that would give me an answer. So I avoided answering and then threw the question back at him. He stopped and said, “You don’t want this.” I was shocked and confused and then became aware that he was being considerate, respectful even. I asked him how he knew I did not want it; he answered “You showed me, from how you were.” He could not exactly describe how he knew. He must have sensed it, I was impressed.

 

 

 

Note:

For me, that was the first time I became aware that someone could be tuned into my body enough to know when to stop being sexual with me. It remained a pivotal, poignant moment in the midst of many chaotic and painful or numbing experiences with sex. It was a teaching moment. I am grateful to him for that night, for choosing the right action, which was no action. Simple it may have seemed to him, it meant more than he knew or knows now.

I want to love someone right now, but I am afraid to risk feeling certain emotions, any attachment at all seems like too much. I have even essentially blocked all feelings for Dark Slate Blue. I used to be so pathetic about him.

“Fight them for respect”

Sometimes my reflection shocks me because I look whole and substantial. Yet, I feel something substantial is missing from within me; I do not know what exactly is missing but it is.

Every time I write about or think about someone who does not return my feelings I sense a part of me slipping away. Dark Powder Blue was telling me fervently, “You fight them, always fight for their respect.” She was warning me and I have not really started to take the advice and apply it.

Sometimes self-doubt creeps in like an ugly, lurking shadow, like a poisonous gas you don’t even notice until you are sleepy, intoxicated by the suffocating fumes, it gets into the blood stream, seeps into your pores. You have got to get it out of you, but how?

“Language feels so cheap”

There is such impatience in my drawings. I agree with my drama teacher that all of our lives are probably too introspective anyway. And still, I want so badly to convey some emotion trapped in me that I cannot slow down long enough to draw clearly. It becomes very attractive to slip into the shell of withdrawal and dull my senses, sleeping through life. I know independence comes with responsibility and I really want independence.

Dark Powder Blue did some drugs the other night that made her feel like she was going to die. I stayed up with her and kept her reassured that she would get through it. I had her look at my eyes and breathe with me. Language feels so cheap especially when life is particularly intense.

June 28, 1998

I turned 19 today. I woke up to my sister, mom and stepfather singing “Happy Birthday,” My heart is warmed by the love that fills these days. I am in a new relationship with Topaz. This is the first night I have been away from him, we are in love, and a night alone is good. He says he will be there for me if I am there for him. He tells me to let nature take its course. He says “A man who does not want love does not deserve a chance.” My moods rule me these days. My heart aches tonight. I need to be with him like I need air and water.

 

“Light shattered”

This horrible light shattered all over the floor, splinters of it glinting

I stood there hinting, I want you, and I need you

Silent, twitching you turn away

Night unfolded into day, just to find you sprawled all over those splinters where you crawled.

You ask to be forgiven, because, no, it won’t happen again.

I stayed with Topaz for close to two years. We fought and experienced turbulence after not that long, and looking back I had no idea at the time that I could have probably found a much calmer relationship, but I was myopic and insecure. So I stayed with him. I attempted to get on birth control pills, but I was not very good at that, and I got pregnant. I did not for one moment consider having the baby. I called the hospital and scheduled an appointment for an abortion. My mother was with me the whole time. The only flashes from that I remember are about being in the room and wanting my mother to be next to me, but not wanting Topaz anywhere near me, I wished I had never met him on that day.

We grew apart after that and I distinctly remember a phone conversation I had with him after we broke up that opened my eyes to the glaring and disturbing differences between us. He told me he does not believe in “race mixing.” Quite the statement to make to a woman you impregnated who is of a different “race” according to you, isn’t it?

Some years later I wrote this:

Take your limbs and throw them into the movement for justice, all kinds, take your heart and wrap it in intentions for healing

1.      Yourself

2.      Others

3.      The planet

 

Take your attentive thoughts, direct them toward the highest good for all you encounter, don’t stop at this, take your habits, and toss them away to be replaced by ceremony, with pure consciousness, fueling the efforts

 

 

“Outright”

I would text you but I lost my phone

I’d call for you but I lost my voice

I would hate you but I have no choice, I love you

I would tell you but I lost my way

I would tell someone else but I have lost my courage

I would leave now but I am in no hurry

I would move on but I have become part of the background

So now everything moves on past me as I fade away

I would love you outright, but you would be so taken aback

And rightly so, since I have yet to declare this

It is not fair this

Was supposed to be a surprise

How I covet a certain look in your eyes.

 

Here is a piece from somewhere in my early thirties:

 

“Puzzle people”

What does it take to turn self- destruction into self- construction?

Oh Creator, you formed this woman identity into the shape of me

What does it take, Creator, to turn self-negation into self-creation?

Oh Creator, you turned some kind of soil and indistinguishable ingredients, into a human

Please tell me, would you,

How to become more solid, become more liquid

To refrain from anymore becoming

Does any of this matter really matter?

Since I know that illusory worlds prevail

Kali Yuga; if this is you, you mystify me, you entangle me, and you strangle me

This stranglehold is formidable, the way you suck me back in

This denial of release, my captured essence

And the observations of the tidy mistakes they call casualties

Yes, they are called casual as a formality

Observations of these times gather in the corners of our eyes like cobwebs

Yet, the present moment has the power to pull us back in

Pursuit of happiness drives us

While pharmaceutical agendas deliver us on the doorstep of pieced back together

We are puzzle people and our patience is required by Universal law

America just might grow into what it really takes for genuine faith to blossom

We choke on substandard English

and other colonial languages too tainted to express indigenous rage

And we all have origins of Indigenous identity

Every single one of us

Now we smile wide, side step our origins

Underneath shining masks of complicity

If there ever was a time to rise up, it would be now

If there ever was a time to come together, it would be now

“Mirror”

Breathless I wander into you, Ignorant of this miracle, convinced that we are alone

Breathless I move from form to thought, and back again. Where has my breath gone?

Breathless I hunt down a purpose, still ignorant of our miracle

We are all that is or ever was, this cycle of existence mirrored

a hundred thousand times over behind that galaxy of stars.

You are tangible; I can feel your spine, your hips, even your lips

Breathless, this spirit walks with death until new life beckons

 

 

 

Chapter 6--Welcome to 2001

“Can I feature you?”

In my early twenties, I discovered that I am a performance poet. I can do slam poetry and I tend to get high scores but my preferred venue is the open mic, where there is no competition. I find that competition only takes away from an evening of poetry and really adds nothing valuable to it.

The first time I performed my original work in public, was in San Francisco, in the Lower Haight at a café. I got up in front of a diverse San Francisco crowd when the Lower Haight still had some diversity in the way it really counts, no longer is that the case. I read a piece that ended by talking about poetry having ancestral origins, and I was questioning where it came from, where the poem really originates from.

I go outside in the back, to the smoking section, near a brightly painted, intricate mural that took up a huge section of the wall of a building defining the perimeters of the space. The mural depicted images of people, mostly dark skinned, from places around the world. Some were famous, others just warrior like, and many appeared in indigenous, or traditional attire.

As I stood, taking in the scene, and not even minding that I had arrived alone, a man came up to me. I quickly realized that he was the host of the Open Mic. He was friendly and he quickly, eagerly asked me if he could feature me a few months down the road. I hardly thought for a few seconds before agreeing. I asked him how long I would be up there. He told me about half an hour. I was blown away by this chance, especially since this was literally my first time performing my work in the city! He was pleased.

Not long after, I realized that being featured there meant I would need enough material that I felt would be worthy enough to perform. I got to work. I went through the poems I had written, this was long ago enough that I was still writing poetry in notebooks constantly and had no computer at all. That is virtually unheard of these days.

One very profound insight about that time in my life occurred to me recently. By the time I reached by early twenties I found that I had a very different approach to dating and relating to the opposite sex, or even to members of my own sex. I suppose I relate in an odd way to people overall, this could be a judgment or it could be a way to discern, what others considered a standard way of relating was a way I had no idea how to compute or imitate.

At that time of my life I would walk around the city by myself, contemplating and composing new pieces. I picked up the word Namaste and heard the meaning at the time was a sort of blessing or greeting. I would often drop to my knees and pull out a pen and notebook in order to record whatever kind of description of the experiences I was having.

As outlined by all the various out of control experiences I had with intimacy during my adolescence, I ended up realizing that I do not date people in the most common use and meaning of the term. I download. I do not date, I download. What do I mean by that? When I meet someone I like I would not exactly date them, I would download information I could receive from their vibrational body and while that may be a strange pill to attempt to swallow but I am certain that this was a method I was using with some level of intention back then, but I was not clear enough inside to gain clarity in my relations to other people.

By saying I do not date, I download, I am asserting a difference in approach from most women and how they view men. In the majority of the world’s cultures, gender roles are dictated rather strictly. A woman is generally assessing a potential date in terms of his ability to provide financially, his looks, and his maturity level. That is a generalization so of course there is room for other kinds of assessments but these are the basics. When men assess women, they prioritize looks over anything else, sex appeal, and at some point, personality.  Of course, some have a different more elaborate list but for the purposes of this description of interaction between the sexes, we will stick with what I have laid out.

The implications of this situation are many. I am in a position now to examine what type of role I want to play in the life of another person without being slammed by a huge set of expectations that get in the way of authentic intimacy.

I understand more about myself than I ever have and I expect that self- awareness and growth to continue exponentially.

 

Chapter 7- Welcome to my Twenties and early Thirties

I spent a whole lot of time at this point wandering the city, being some sort of version of a beatnik poet, but clearly shoved into the wrong era for beatnik existence. Yet and still, I persevered. I kept moving. I spent time in Golden Gate Park by the carousel, I pounded pavement in the Mission, and also in the Lower Haight and all the while I was driven to write poems and sometimes chants that I felt compelled to share at the places I found.

How do you know you have reached some measure of success as a person who perpetrates counter culture? It seems that the accolades of modern society revolve around mostly academia or in the context of what are considered “real jobs” where one may land a coveted promotion, and so on. When I was asked if I wanted to be featured, that was the warmest introduction to the stage as a poet that I could have gotten. So naturally, I sought more experience in the blossoming spoken word and performance art scene that was permeating the Lower Haight.

In this day in age, in the United States, a person of my background is expected to achieve a certain level of success. In order to do that, you have to believe in that very much promoted type of success, you have to believe it matters, that it is for you, that you fit inside of it somehow.

I never really believed in it. I may not have always had some other type of success or goal to focus on instead of it, but I never bought into it. I got as far as finishing a B.A. degree and then applying for a Master’s in Social Work. I applied to several different schools. I took a trip to Boston, to talk to people at the University about their program. I flew to England with my mother to meet people at King’s College in London, where they offered a Master’s degree in Comparative Religion. I remember sitting at a restaurant with my mother and trying to talk about the concept of “World Rejecters.” She had no idea how depressed I was at that time, how much I wished I could reject the world. She responded by asking me, “Oh, do they talk about that in the literature?”

How I hated the place I was at that moment. How I hated this Ivory Tower version of me that was looming over us at that time. How I hated this expectation of incredibly pretentious dialogue about subjects only the super privileged people who were overly saturated in elitist scenarios engaged in. I could not bring myself to fashion my mind into the type of mind that ends up perpetuating conversations or diatribes that are not much better than mental masturbation, while the rest of the world burns.

Yes, I know that the rest of the world lacks authenticity in a big way, and deep down I know that I am nothing if not authentic, nothing if not disgusted by elitism, and to step away from that would have been to step into wretched terrain and ugly territory I wanted more than anything to flee, to run from and never, ever look back. That is exactly what I did. I blame nobody for that time in my life. My mother was only trying to help; she was showing she believed in me, my academic abilities, and my intelligence. I do not fault her for not understanding my struggle at that time because, poet that I am, I am still sadly at a loss for words when it comes to this sort of confusion and angst. I do my best to capture it, when I feel relaying it may do some good.

Chapter 8-- If you want to save the world, save yourself first.

The world of left wing activism is one that I have been learning about from ages where my very first memories were formed and remembered. I was three, maybe four years old, when I was being held by one of my parents in downtown at a protest rally on the steps of the Federal Building in San Francisco.

All the protesters around me chanted loudly, “Embargo South Africa, not Nicaragua!!” Being that young and little, I had no idea what they meant with those words, but I picked up on the intensity, the passion, and the righteousness. Even at that young an age, I knew this group was making noise for a reason, and later on, I ended up being a part of countless protests, marches, rallies, until finally, it occurred to me, this is the surest road to total burnout.

I started to think about pacing myself.  This world has been in dire need of change long before I was born and it will need it long after I am gone. I should let go that politicized messiah complex so many hardcore activists seem to have and figure out how to live my life, start looking inward more for answers.

I needed to simply start to make peace with the fact that there is SO much to do, SO many causes to adopt, that if an activist does not pace herself and become protective of her time, she can slip into way too many die hard, intense situations with people who do not have boundaries when it comes to activist work, volunteer or paid. Like anything, I suppose, especially anything that gives you a kind of high, it can be addictive. There are not many 12 step or support groups that form around addiction to activism, but there should be.

I am still, after all my experiences, pro-left- wing activist work. I still feel passionately about many causes and I still join in from time to time. However, my days of canvassing door to door, phone canvassing and other forms of grassroots organizing have been for the most part replaced with therapeutic bodywork sessions for people.

I became a trained massage therapist and found that there was huge emotional satisfaction and relief knowing that a client shows up feeling a certain way, needing a specific kind of help and almost every, if not every single time, they leave feeling so much better and calmer than when they arrive. This work does not totally erase the other kind of feeling I have gotten from putting in hours or attending actions supporting important causes.

There are two specific successes I have had as an activist that have essentially made all the organizing and work worth the effort. I do not say that lightly. I truly have found that if you allow yourself to whole heartedly celebrate your success when there is one, in activism, you will be more motivated to create change on many levels. You might stay where you had the success and build off of it. You might emotionally or intellectually translate the great feeling and pride in the success to another kind of work, whether it is raising a child, diving into a healthy relationship or deep friendship or many, many other possibilities. The point is, it is so crucial for your mental, spiritual and emotional health to profoundly honor and celebrate when something actually goes well, when we/you win!!

The first success came fairly fast after I joined a campaign as a grassroots organizer in East Oakland, at the Fruitvale office of ACORN, (Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now). We were going door to door to build membership, in the spirit of David preparing to slay Goliath, no matter how much bigger or unimaginably mean spirited he may be. In this case, our Goliath is composed of Banks and Institutions that engage in what we call “predatory lending”.

These folks, and it does boil down to individuals, even though they are backed by powerful banks and other groups, prey upon families and regular people in neighborhoods, by getting them to sign up for types of loans and agreements with the banks. These regular folks are told just enough to get them to hope they will become homeowners or have some sort of stability that these banks and representatives sell them an image of. In fact, what did happen is these loans came to be called predatory because many who signed up for the deception would end up with their house in foreclosure, which was the plan all along.

On the much larger scale, the World Bank goes into impoverished Third World Countries and gets them to invest in expensive roads and other infrastructure, just for these folks to turn around and realize they are deeply in debt to the World Bank, who is expecting money from countries that have almost nothing. Predatory lending is cowardly, cruel and dead wrong.

Our success at ACORN, was to get a local measure in local politics in Oakland that banned predatory lending in Oakland!! At the time, so much was happening in my personal life, that I hardly registered how amazing it was that we had just WON a campaign! Silly little us!

Now that I look back at that time I see the courage in my spirit, in doing what I did. I ignored the fact that as a white girl, walking through what were considered dangerous areas, alone, I was often told I did not belong there. I was single mindedly focused on my work objectives, getting members and creating change, person by person. I was often asked by folks to come inside, they would usually sign up after hearing my qualifying question and short speech about what we were doing and how we need everyone. They probably thought I was crazy, and looking back, I did sort of lack that kind of fear women are expected to have out on their own.   

The second political success of note happened after I graduated from Humboldt State University with a BA degree. Interestingly, it happened as a result of the organizing work I had done with other students. We belonged to a campus branch of a larger group, called United Students Against Sweatshops, or U.S.A.S. This work included fighting powerful groups, such as our University that used sweatshop labor to make apparel with the Humboldt State logo all over them, effectively aligning themselves with worldwide exploitation of chronically under represented parts of the population, most of whom are people of color.

While this looks incredibly shameful for the image of our progressive, known liberal University once these facts go public, there was still a fight to be had with the administration. Our Humboldt branch of the group met weekly at my house, which I shared with roommates. We met in order to strategize, to plan protests, and raise awareness. We even got the attention of some administrators and we met with them on several occasions to potentially bargain or make demands. At one point, since we were making ourselves quite well known, we had a meeting with Rollin Richmond, the President of the University. The demand we made, making clear it was non-negotiable, was that the University needed to sign a document that all the branches of our group were demanding employers of sweat shop labor sign. It was called the Designated Suppliers Program, or the DSP for short. The core demands of this Program calls for a designed set of fair labor practices and effectively bans sweatshop labor.

Incredibly, a little while after I had graduated and moved back to the S.F. Bay Area, I heard the DSP had been signed, not only on our campus but others had also signed! I was super happy, amazed and so proud of us! We had no idea if this work would lead anywhere and not only did it prove successful, we got exactly what we asked for.

Before I found out about this win, one of my favorite memories was from graduation day. I walked slowly, incrementally behind other students to make it to Rollin Richmond, where we were expected to nod and smile, shake his hand, while the other hand placed a rolled up piece of paper signifying our degree and then we were to walk calmly off of the stage.

I seized the moment. I took his hand, looked at him directly in his eyes, and said, so he could hear, “I hope you sign the DSP.” He looked startled and I smiled brightly at him and walked off the stage, quietly proud of myself for shaking him up a little, and maintaining a maturity that my parents were truly proud of me for. I remember this being the event my stepfather said he felt showed I had really joined the adult world. I love my parents.

I love them for who they are, for how tenaciously they have loved me, even and especially when I was working hard at pushing everyone away who did love me. Many have paid really nice lip service, to me, in the capacity of those three words, I love you. Yet, it is my parents, specifically my mother, father and stepfather, who have been in my corner throughout some very uncertain and painful pieces of my life story. This is a life story that continues, alive and breathing, as I approach my 36^th birthday, feeling profoundly blessed and loved, supported, and pleased I can love and support others, and be bonded closely with them.

I feel inspired by so many, heading into the later part of my thirties, content to be a woman who is confidently, consistently saying NO to motherhood. I choose to pour nurturing, mothering energy and light into the lives of those I choose consciously and carefully to weave my own life with.

The poem I take a couple lines from for the title, is one I wrote a few years ago. Writing, when I do it, I later find it seems to happen outside of space and time, and comes from places I am not on a daily basis able, yet, to access into my ordinary consciousness. I am at peace with that, on some level because if I sounded the way my poetry and writing often does in regular speech, I would have far fewer options of folks to talk to or would be able to be around me.

With no further ado, I give you, “DUST”

i will be dust

i will be rain

i will be the beginning and the end of the

sweetest pain

teaching you gratitude

for lessons learned at the

most horrific times

and if there is no lesson discernible

i will be the comfort that comes to take

the rest of the suffering away

i will be the patience you cultivate

and will grant you relief from

the long stretches of waiting

because without me

you would go so far inward that nobody could reach you

and i will be clarity

so that you have something to cling to that will do you no harm

will only assist you on treacherous paths

that you must walk because you chose them before you even arrived in

a body that you would have possession of only for some 90 years if you are lucky

i will be dust

i will be rain

i will be there to hear you complain

of every ache, every betrayal

i will never fail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waves- in 3 parts

part 1

take my lips and my hips

the essence of what about me is womanly

and yes that is worldly

tell me how I have fallen

for whom for what and why

then I will show you I can fly

yes tease you with visions of wings

so real it actually stings

take my fingers

drumming away on surfaces

on the poison that lingers

ask me for a mundane thought

before it would seem all that would be worthwhile

could be sold and bought

teach me of your capitalist agenda

only to find I am not much of a spenda

and you are wasting your time

with such game

so truly and utterly lame

part 2

I take two fingers

press them gentle and firm

on your soft lips

I whisper Shhhhhhhhhhh

our gazes locked

you can smell a trace of that nights perfume

and oddly it settles you into a moment of patience

In yoga asanas. especially warrior

I think "soften your gaze"

and when I do, my body is relieved

you have softened your gaze too

I smile and breathe deeply

part 3

she considers all the matter

that supposedly matters

the clutter and pieces of objects

that make up bigger objects

which represent status

in a personal or professional space

what in all of this must she face?

dreaming of rivers

she presses her eyelids shut

all these items pass away

they have shape and form until they become stardust glitter

and fade into the rushing waters of transient waves

They move toward this ocean

just as at one point soon

she will too.