ReggaeDancehall - BETTER bitrate - Mix posted for you... again

www.zshare.net/audio/53662543e980bcc1/
Better sound quality, all the same tunes.

ReggaeDancehall Mix

www.zshare.net/audio/53613545aa9f56a2/

enjoy and share.

sinking ship

mandymandai@gmail.com
Skype name Mandai
Please please give me your personal deets thru these 2 ways, I'll be sad to see Tribe go but I"ll be more sad to lose touch with any of you, especially since I'm away from all my favourite peeps right now.
Mad love.

Birth Day

I sit before you, naked, palms empty
I have learned to ask no questions as the mystery unfolds before me
Knowing my inherent curiosity and its seduction of cats
I have collected only stones, leaves, fabrics and seeds along my way
Once again, I empty myself and wait for this vessel to fill.

I sit before you, with calloused feet
Red dirt embedded in the cracks of tired skin
That has tasted the sweet ground from afar
These feet have split shea nuts and snail shells and
Slid on the paddies of sacred cows
They have bathed at the burning ghats and
Become caked with the blood of after-birth
They have danced on frozen grass, Himalayan cliffs, alkaline deserts,
Caressed lush papaya gardens and been buried in
Ripples of silent winter night's snow.

I sit before you, still, with rose-coloured nipples
Skin soft and waiting to be stretched into markings of motherhood
I paint with the blood that the moon pulls each month
I have delicate wrinkles around my eyes,
One for each child I did not get to birth
Dried tracks of tears that will remain forever.
I fill this empty vessel with prayers
Try not to define it by its hollowness
But the beauty of dreams it grows within.

I sit before you, you have seen me many times before
With a guarded heart and sun-stroked will
Hiding beneath veils of vulnerable shadows
Building armor behind which I trick myself
Into believing is a comfortable prison from which to watch
One story of one human
Instead it is a transparent cocoon; I the dusty night moth
What paradox of a blessing, this wounded healer
Sitting at the bottom of a well, parched,
While ambrosia flows from my palms
If only we could drink our own.

I sit here before you, eyes wide open
Enthralled by the wonder of oriental markets
Spice rack spilling with secrets, tantalizations of traditions
The alchemy of savouring myths, languages, feathers, peppercorns
The way different breezes whisper across the skin
The aroma of old tea and fresh tobacco,
Of old sweat and fresh love.

I sit here before you, enveloped in fire
Cheeks flushed and scarab-winged heart
I am a mosaic of all ink-spotted train rides
All the words and flavours and intoxications
All the dusty hot days and gentle, sultry nights
I am a collage of every eye that has lingered upon me
Every moth flight of a thought that has beheld me
Every song sung in smoky throats of distant muses
Every silent cloaked stranger passing through doorways,
Cobblestone streets, boated canals, red earth pathways.

I sit here before you, stripped bare of my armor
I am the sun, bringing each day anew
Drops of water slide down my mane
Onto the ground, into the earth
Waiting for their turn once again
To fill this empty vessel.

portland shambhala warriors, need your help!

i left my tent and sheepies at lynx's house, drunk on breastmilk and dizzy with love, heart filled with baby poo and brain frazzled from post-emerg-n-see swirl, can you blame me?

I know we have a big huge tent for our lion's den at the fest but I'd love my sheepies back (kitties like sheepies) and my wee tent for solo adventures if needed, plus a dope belt chris made me that he hasn't even seen how well i rock!

please tribe me if you can drop by lynxee's place and pick 'em up for me. but only if you tell solomon how much i love him and miss him.

reward? endless Jagermeister kisses for the lucky one who comes to the rescue, or some other equally as saucy and tantalizing expression of gratitude.

Darshan

It is like one long lucid dream, this offering my life has taken a hold of.
Coming back to a land that has given so much and taken something so dearly away.
Meanwhile I find myself elbow-deep in blood, in love, and in gratitude for the side of life I stand with here.

I have been embraced so many time by beloveds whose walls are that much thinner, whose hearts are that much more broken, in order to let that much more love in. I have sunk in warmly and drank deeply from this well, since having been parched and cold in the place I sometimes call home.

Sometimes I wonder, what else is on this island?
I've heard there is a volcano, and I've heard there are beaches.
Temples that could bring entire pantheons to their knees.
Roads that wind through rice fields, coconut trees and past thatched huts.
But my prayer here is focused in an earthly temple,
Whose lights can be bright and where people come in their sarongs and jilbabs.
Where water is run to ease the pain, wash the blood, soften the transition from womb to world.
And I realize that I am in the presence of someone who, at times, is one of my greatest teachers.
Therefore each moment with her I savour as Darshan.

My teachings here have been profound, in part allowing me to ease back into an embodiment of myself that I know best and flow with at ease. Words roll off my tongue as if no time has passed, and new ones are sometimes overwhelmingly delicious to say.
Yet somehow there has been a deepening, a shift, a silent understanding that I somehow know more about birth than I did before.
Which means, I really know less, because each one reminds me of how deep and endless the mystery is. The More you Know, the less you know.

As I walk further into my initiation, my initiation brings me to different doors. They all look the same from the outside, but as I enter, each one is its own world.
A breech.
A hemorrhage.
A flower-filled water birth.
A cleft palate.
A 2kg baby.
A 4kg baby.
A birth with tears.
A birth with laughter.

Milk and vernix and pooh and baby cloth diapers with matching hats.

Somehow these are all birthing me anew, as i feel the instinct surfacing more and a more rigid, educated part of my brain wash away with the daily rain.

I pick the flowers from the drain, wash the blood off of them and put them in the bowl which houses the placenta, which still remains attached through one limp, white, gelatinous cord to the baby, who still remains attached to its mama via its mouth to her nipple, and certainly through the same energy body still.

And I know
That this is what Bhakti feels like.

birth and death

holding space on this day/eve while across the world
a special kin returns to the flames of creation
with all the family beholding and creating our ritual around her.

blessed be.
we are all there with you.
let us all release and be reborn.

and all the way over here,
I sit with a woman in the birthing process
i'm sure this new life will emerge
as we all collectively release our beloved.

candles on the altar.

let us remember the cycle.
let us honour the eternal source.

birth meditation

as you surrender into this whiteness, remember this:
the snow falls to blanket you in warmth
and surround you in its ethereal weight
even through the darkness that you have faced within.
you will find yourself in the temple of your soul
where no one can touch your vulnerability

waiting for the tides to burst
in the slow ocean waves of divine patience
feeling inside you the stretch
of bones and blood and teeth and heart
while reaching through your dreams
to find the place of solitude in which to open.

as you wake each day, remember this:
that the path unfolding before you
is edged with your wisdom, even in your solitude
you will slip through this rite of passage
as the owl watches silently as your ally.

keep sinking deeper into those sensations
because through that wave is a rebirth of yourself
even when you have shed the burden of pre-tension
from a reflection that can not pretend to serve you
you no longer have to resist your intuition
you no longer have to stay within your shell.

thank you, kootenays

for all of your warmth
though you were covered in snow
for all of your brightness
though it was winter solstice
for all of your healing
though i was sick most of the time!

you take me in
and remind me of me
every time.
you show me what love feels like again.
you tell me to remember
to keep breathing
and keep dancing.
you intoxicate me with gratitude.
you call me into my greater role
and show me my vast capabilities
you cool my fingers and toes
but warm me inside with your hearth.

thank you,
thank you
home and family
that keep that land free
so i can drink from the streams.

thank you, all of you
you know who you are!!
who keep it real.

you keep housing my dreams in those deep mountains,
and i will keep whispering to the cedars.

Kidnapped by the Vine

The post-burn story of my dreams! Reality took an interesting turn for me.....

I suppose it all started when I decided not to go to the Burn after Shambhala, even though my parents were going. I just could not stand the thought of going all the way down and enduring the playa for a week.

I did however go down to Portland to partake in the amazing ceremonies led by the lovely, humble, incredible Christina. What an honour to sit in her circle and journey with her songs. I was so transformed, so taken in, cleaned out, loved up and renewed. I could not have asked for more and felt fully fulfilled and refreshed afterwards. However, one of the messages I received was, 'girl, GO to the burn with your parents!!!'

As soon as I made that decision, everything fell into place. I even took some of the last shifts at the Iboga Therapy House because the others had left for the playa. I escorted our client to the ferry the same time I was leaving to head south. Everything felt right.

I watched the lunar eclipse from an RV park in Reno, wondering how the playa was going to take me in this time.

The whole week was so phenomenal, I cannot BELIEVE I thought about not going! Not only did my parents love it and have a raging time, I pretty much spent the whole week embracing people I love with every piece of my soul, dancing to amazing beats, attending fascinating talks/workshops, giving and receiving yager kisses, and spreading my magick all over the playa. It's like I'd forgotten how good it could be and she decided to remind me by dishing it out until my cup overflowed.

My parents wanted to leave on Sunday but I was determined to stay for the Temple burn - which marked the long-awaited end to my Saturn return. So I found a friend who agreed to drive me to the Reno airport in the morning. I said my goodbye to my parents and watched them drive away, so proud of them for coming all the way to the playa and experiencing what it had to offer.

My contentment shifted when I realized they'd left with my wallet and passport. I spent the next 3 hours frantically searching the line-up of vehicles waiting to get off the playa, even making a sign with donated cardboard, a ball-point pen, leftover duct tape and some wire to hold it to a pylon. One of the infamous signs you read as you make your way onto the playa had fallen, so I grabbed it. The message on it before mine was taped over it read, "for fun".

It was out of my hands and i was too exhausted and full of exhaust and playa dust to even care. To the temple burn, to burn away all I had wanted to release all week. Then a mission to find a ride to Seattle - no luck. Everywhere I turned was a closed door. Until my friends said I should just come with them to Mendocino. As soon as I considered that suggestion, my whole disposition changed, and I knew that's where I needed to go.

We left early Monday morning and I was relaying phone messages to my parents through my sister-in-law, but really just needed them to call my friend's cell phone so we could solidify plans and they could help me find another way home. No word from them until the next day when my Mom FINALLY phoned. They had good news and bad news: they had my wallet, ipod and book. They did not have my passport.

Frantically I searched my bag and to my disbelief, I pulled out my passport, enduring the constant razzing from everyone in the room for the next while as I just laughed at how ridiculous the circumstance was.

So there I was, up in Mendocino. I went to another friends' place where the Shamanic Astrologer, Daniel Giomarrio, was doing group and personal readings. I was the Virgo moon that had been absent in the circle the day before. I learned so much about what is written in the stars for me, and indeed some of the things he said rang so true that it gave me shivers.

The next night I had the honour of sitting in ceremony with some elders from Ecuador who some good friends of ours have been touring with for the last month. The opportunity to sit in this circle was such an honour and I could not believe my luck and timing considering how I ended up there. It was truly the chance of a lifetime to hear their songs and receive their healings, and the blessings from that ceremony will ripple through me forever.

I never anticipated such luck when I thought I was stranded at the burn, passport-less and having to miss my flight.

It was my experience in Portland that got me down to the burn in the first place, and the serendipity of the universe that got me to where I needed to be to pull back the veils once more and partake in the gifts from South America.

Blessed be, all who helped me along the way - you know who you are!!! I love you all so dearly and cherish each moment of my experience. The post-playa bliss I feel has just multiplied a hundredfold and I will forever be grateful that all my attempts to find my parents were fruitless. Yay for the strange workings of the universe!!!