compost

a summer day

niema — Wed, 09 Jul 2008 05:07:27 GMT

It was warm in my garden today. The head list of things that need doing, not the least of which was watering that bit of Earth and plantlets and small trees. But honoring the Moonday in the Sunlight by sitting, and breathing, and being. Grateful for what is, praying for grace and necessities, grace being the greatest necessity in the time when there are more blessings than time. Dreaming of Maui Feeling wanderlust prick my skin and pull my heart. I feel I will heed the call of adventure just when I get established here, but I wouldn't ahve it any other way. Hearing the wind-chimes and dogs and traffic, so grateful for the fleeting warmth. Wondering if I should start on my chores, but the soft ache in my womb keeps me still. Reminds me that I am human and woman, and here for a reason. Asks when I 'll replace this one woman show with a partner play, when this ache will be one of ripening and not emptying. Asks, or maybe that's my mind, if I'll find him in time for all this bleeding to be worthwhile, or if I'll be done some years hence having fulfilled every promise but this one. Then I am reminded. The tomato blossoms, like this community, like I, need their nurturance to bear their promised fruit. The list of things to build a Temple I sometimes fear will betray, or perhaps that's just the fear of not being in control of something I am so vested in. Making home in a momentary space, making space in a momentary life, making sacred in a momentary city - it's all training. and it's all worth it. It's easier to keep hope alive when in sunlight. Being in the grid again weighs on me. counting pennies weighs on me. pretending I don't need a lover weighs on me. but even with the bleeding, I Feel Light today. The freedom of hopeful surrender, again. All I can do is give up. Give 'up' to my heart, and the day, and the light. And water the garden. namaste

readiness

niema — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 09:33:25 GMT

riding a bicycle in San Francisco is a whole new experience. the hills, oh, the hills. the challenge of making it up, and the terrifyingly giddy free-fall of coming down. the exhilaration and joy. the power from within. and fluid strength. studying this past weekend with my amazing teacherbrotherfriend, to be a guardian, to awaken energetic sensitivity. Being so frustrated, again, by my senses that are feeling based and not visual based, as my other explorers described fantastic visions and all I could say was that I saw purple. The overwhelm of feeling so deeply, and not being sure where I end and the Universe begins, and how to process all that information and be healthy with it. but breathing, and being, in the now. working towards total action and total stillness. staying out of ego and in universal. Being blessed by sacred family connections, and for a few moments, tasting my true nature. By the end, a surprising amount of healing had occurred, for myself and others. Again the feeling that I am so close to waking up fully, I can see the surface above me and I hope I have enough breath to reach it. But of course, there is nothing to achieve. I like to think that all of this matters, that I am a part of something amazing and that we truly are holding sacred space and healing the world through who we are and what we do. But we can't know, is the thing, we just have to wonder, and trust, and vibrate with truth and sing our love songs are one-songs and be. So I ride my bike as fast as I safely can. And I give all that I am able with each class I teach. And I seek out moments to sing, and share poetry, and participate in ritual, and feed my friends, and facilitate healing. today I resisted the temptation to get some desert from the store. and I worked on the Temple, and myself. I made my whole roundtrip this afternoon without having to get off the bike for a tough hill even once. And whatever may be happening in our world, Galactivation or transformation or whatever you call it, I can only take it one breath, one moment, one revolution at a time (the wheel will continue to go 'round) and trust that when my moments arrive, I will be ready. namaste

shifting

niema — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 03:50:28 GMT

I have been on the Mainland for a season. Spring passed in rages of storm and sweet, and scary and new and comfortable. practical challenges and amazing blessings. I reflect on last Summer, where I spent this day wedding my best friends, feeling so alive and surrounded by family. Autumn Equinox saw me watching the Sun rise with elders on Kau'ai. Winter saw me in my little cabin by the river, surrounded by beauty and bamboo, but alone for a long Maui night. Spring I was preparing to leave Maui to begin the next phase of my adventure. And now another Solstice has passed. 3 months in this city. 2 weeks of co-coordinating, praying, trusting, of throwing a party with no money and little advertising, and being amazed at who appeared at the call. Celebrating in my new home, around the fire. Sharing my magic and poetry and real space with friends brand new and very old. Feeling so grateful, and joyful, and alive. There is a Zulu concept, Ubuntu, that basically translates as "a person is a person through other persons", or "To be human is to affirm one's humanity by recognizing the humanity of others" -Who we are as a species and individuals is dependent on how we interrelate with each other. so much of my challenge here has been feeling lonely, feeling I had no outlet for the wonder within me. At the party I had the realization that even with as shy and introverted as I can sometimes be, I am at my brightest, my healthiest, when I am with people that inspire me and allow me and see me. My brother, who arrived just in time that night as he is wont to do, said it felt to him like I was really home. I still don't fully know what that means, though he made it clear that he was speaking on several levels. So beyond physical location, I feel home in my heart. Happy Summer namaste

Awakening Son: Solstice Celebration this Friday

niema — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 06:47:44 GMT

-:-:-:- Awakening Son : Solstice Celebration Sun, Son, the longest day of the year, the Son of the Sun, the return of the fully embodied Divine Masculine - as healer, as lover, as creator, as compassionate King. join us as we call Him in... Friday, June 20th. 7:13pm till late $10 - $20 sliding scale donation ($25 after midnight) Also a Fun(d)raiser for Pantheogenesis Temple of Entheon Village http://www.temple08.com/AwakeningSun.html www.pantheogenesis.com Music by Lotus Drops (Cyphertown) Vibration Galactivation by Jonah Kai Prayerformance Solstice Ritual by the Pantheogenesis Priestesses Eye-Gazing Ritual and Performance by Destin Gerek and MegaStar Anastasia www.EroticRockStar.com Spoken Word by dreamtigHr and Lightseed Massage, Oracle, and Healing Space. This is a no shoes intentional gathering. Wear your Solstice best! 1613 1/2 Baker Street, SF. We are seeking a few more people to co-create this event : contact me if you wish to contribute food, art, massage, ritual, or volunteer in other ways - lightseed at gmail dot com -:-:-:-:-:- please spread the word... namaste

skin suit

niema — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 07:15:26 GMT

Posing today in an art class. the meditation of holding still, naked, in front of strangers. Healing years of body image issues by letting people study my contours, and shadows, and proportions. Mutual gratitude for the service and rewards. Juxtaposed with teaching, where I have voice more than body, but still all eyes on me. Still the talent of stillness, focus, and awareness. The challenge of confidence, and empowered surrender to the reality of the moment. I made it through the end of my deep cleanse to have a day revolving around the body, as so many of my days do. How do we wear our suits with grace? The masters of Art and Yoga both praise the beauty of the body, the challenge of accurately portraying the body's full potential with our sometimes limited voices. I offer gratitude again for walking, sometimes even dancing, on the path of a healer. As I embrace and display my curves for pencil and pupil, I feel again the joy of understanding true beauty. namaste

prosperity

niema — Wed, 28 May 2008 11:00:34 GMT

after an amazing gathering of the tribe, deliciously challenged by all that I desire and have not by choice or circumstance, again I examine the reality of a life of choice in a culture of force. in other words, momma needs a new pair of shoes, and a few other things. I have always chosen to do what I loved rather than simply a 'career', or some capitalist idea of success. Moved to Maui, and now SF, with more prayer and faith than cash. Trusting, and seeing, that when I live with joy and give all that I am in service and love, that I am provided for. After the weekend, with so many conversations about the true meaning of wealth, I recognize again how rich I am. so deeply blessed. But the pursestrings are tight at the moment and as I peruse craig's list for jobs and opportunities, my heart still demands that I remain true. that I do what I love, and trust that the money and other forms of wealth will follow. The advice I received today was to reach out to my friends, and so anyone care to receive my offering? a Yoga class tailored to help you access your deepest truth, while helping me live mine. www.lightseed.info may we all find true prosperity, living our highest potential. namaste

for a quiet afternoon

niema — Mon, 12 May 2008 02:04:52 GMT

the Sun is shining in San Francisco another day in the city of great Gates and tall trees day off in a city of dancers and dreamers as diverse as the shadows of dappled sunlight on the garden's brick ground a gypsy girl wonders how she found her way here. A tree girl, an ocean girl makes camp in a house older than her, but younger than the Redwoods a scant few blocks away. Feeling the profundity in the profane, the mundane; the propane can be sacred fire, the BART a divine chariot, a bicycle one's trusty steed. the day to day in this surprisingly normal quest for art and health and home and security and freedom and creative outlet fulfillment and adventure and love. and love. and love. Maybe I'll turn the corner off Haight and find him sniffing my favorite rosebush between the wrought iron fence posts. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be the success I have been calling in. Any thing is possible in the city by the Bay. It takes prisms to cast the rainbows here. The warmth comes from heaters, or friends, or within. The birdsong is muffled by traffic, but I hear it. And flowers find a way to grow betwixt sidewalk and housewall, so it seems I can, too. And while there's no river, no bamboo or lilikoi vine, I can see trees from my window. I feel safe and overwhelmed all at once, enfolded and intimidated, challenged but ultimately welcomed. and the Sun is shining in San Francisco today. namaste

home?

niema — Fri, 02 May 2008 05:38:45 GMT

breathing into a new space where he and she can truly be we the cycle, where bull meets mare some call it Beltane we have always danced, you and i but now our collective conscious galactivation is rising our alchemetic transmission is sinking in and wombifestation is truly possible in other words, we are dancing together, he and she maybe for the first time and it's making a magic, a joyful noise that can transform any deathdrum beat the parallels the joy that keeps getting stronger as the days get warmer even in the city by the Bay maybe I am just happier learning my way around and feeling welcome in this strange land of surprising smiles and lively eyes perhaps I am simply blessed to be in a bubble while the war wages on but the street art says 'greed is wack' and the stranger said 'hello beautiful' and I have so much with so little, such rich below the line so maybe there is hope and the news is just to make you think the darkness is eternal cause i see day breaking in your eyes and this booty shaking revolution feels so good and i'm surrounded by conscious clowns that recycle and share and tend and though I am still raw - perhaps I always will be- and though i am still shy a part of me that is older than this hair and this body tells me that this time, we can make it if we honor the past and the future and we truly dance *together* so, for now, in the ever-swirling ever-magic flow it seems I am home namaste

the good view

niema — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 18:07:43 GMT

landing again seeking home places to teach people to trust different this time colder, but stronger. more humble and more powerful. Hawai'i felt like the grand adventure this feels like coming home. staying near Buena Vista Park for a few days, realizing that I really did leave my heart in San Francisco. so now I'm here awed by it all, overwhelmed in a good way, surfing trusting. I know that before I know it, I will have a super full schedule doing everything I love to do, booked from wake to sleep so now I enjoy walking slow, taking it in letting my smile melt exteriors feeling moments of fear, but mostly gratitude. feeling so, so blessed. hearing 'welcome', and 'we're so glad you're here' carrying Hawai'i in my heart, still soft and sweet. but here, and ready namaste

water is only healthy when it flows

niema — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 11:08:06 GMT

there is one moment we long for everything falls into place we seek the love that we already are we seek the love we are let me dissolve all this noise is silence in your embrace -:-:-:-:- make your words worth the breath spent the ink spilt as precious as heart's blood. the flood of communication an indication of your authenticity let me see you in every phrase you choose don't waste our time with superficial hugs or artificial rhymes when you embrace me with your arms or song I demand that you mean it. If you can't speak your truth in our moment of contact stay shut until that melody bursts forth, breaking the barriers around us both. -:-:-:-:- there is one moment we ache for so close to death from our exploding hearts the moment we are truly alive is when we finally let go let me dissolve open the door between form and reality let me dissolve all this chaos is order in your embrace -:-:-:-:- I feel you in that space between asleep and awake after the dreams, while I am still warm, and the as yet unmet day awaits creation For a moment it seems my limbs are entertwined with yours, but then I remember to be alone, and they are sheets again so instead I let you in through the early sunlight, and the falling rain -:- not one, nor two I see the you in me, the me in you we are not god, we are within God but God as made flesh within your body makes my self-same skin sparkle. My effulgence is your exhalation my song is your sweet morning breath. The light of Sun and Moon caress me, the waves of Ocean and Rain inundate me but nothing dissolves and penetrates me like the light of divinty that shines from your eyes, like the waves of oneness that splash from your embrace. We are spirit made flesh, and I know that most deeply when ours are joined. -:-:-:- there is one moment we pray for every prayer leads to this we seek the end of our longing but how can the pilgrim ever stop praying? my gospel is in your arms let me dissolve... all is Beloved we are the unveiled heart -:- namaste

ways of fighting

niema — Sat, 26 Jan 2008 04:48:41 GMT

in my continuing love affair with Joss Whedon, creator of "Buffy" and other strong female characters, as he speaks of equality: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYaczoJMRhs and this is about H.R. 1955, the Home Grown Terrorist Act that has already passed the House and is now in the Senate - dangerous stuff, don't let them silence us. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9wJsovPRTEM and a positive note to keep you going: http://www.ahpweb.org/articles/donotloseheart.html namaste

"instead of sheep"

niema — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 23:12:33 GMT

I am so blessed. the more I say that, the truer it seems. I have taken up the practice of listing my blessings whenever I can, in writing, and to whoever will listen, and to stating the challenges as things that I am working through, not as obstacles. And, for the first time since I arrived on this glorious hunk of cooled fertile lava, I am truly, gigglingly, happy. Healthy and happy and full of life. Part of it is the set departure time, we seem to most deeply appreciate the things that are obviously fleeting. Part of it was releasing any sense of entitlement, expectation, and especially envy of other's happiness. I neither expect to be rewarded nor feel that I am unworthy of blessings. Part of it is the flow, of people, of prosperity, of pleasant weather and potent synchronicities (like the crop circle photo above). Dreaming in beautiful things for this turbulent year. Long chats with deep friends about the shift we're in. Mostly it is saying 'thank you' all the time, and all the time having more to say thank you for. I can hear it in my body, feel in it my voice. I wake up with a smile on my face - I'm back! or, forward, as it were. In the old movie musical "White Christmas," Bing Crosby has a song that goes "When I'm tired and I can't sleep / I count my blessings instead of sheep./ And then I fall asleep / counting my blessings. well, I'm so busy, and I can hear a river from my room, so I sleep quite easily. but I do remember to count. and multiply. and say thank you. namaste

"Will you take me as I am?..."

niema — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 03:48:13 GMT

how a break-down can become a break-through. Birthdays are the transition, the station on the cyclical solar train. Whether we choose to celebrate them or not, they are potent. Mine has always fallen just after the Solstice/Christmas/New Year's whirlwind, I don't usually breathe easy from the holiday rush until after it has passed. This year was exceptional in it's sadness and beauty. I missed home so much, and had my day start so terribly, that I found myself crying on the beach on the phone to dear friends. I am, of course, aware of the hypocrisy of this - never before have I been able to go to the beach on my birthday, this year I got to swim in the ocean, even. But the clarity, and the decisions, and the grace of finally just, truly surrendering that came from some deep admissions. And then a trance dance, and, birthday celebrations are intended to do, I felt reborn. that said, I'll be in coming to the Bay on March 20th, seeking space to live and classes to teach and all that goodness. the continued quest for home. Now that it's like two months away, I am starting to think of the next transition- where will I live, will I be accepted by the people that inspire me so, am I crazy for leaving paradise for another dream? When I left Chicago, I made the mistake of thinking that I wanted to check out of it all. Coming here has been so valuable, I can feel the difference in my voice, and body, and clarity of intention, and yet I need to be connected in a way I am not here. so onward! I know it's not all it's cracked up to be, and I will need to be present with the reality of what is and not just fantasy. but yeah, I'm ready. in the meantime, I have re-started the practice of counting my blessings at the beginning of my journal entries. it helps. My teachers asked me to share a poem during Savasana this week, with the admonition that I not rehearse, that it come from the class. The first one I included a few lines I had already written, but the second day was completely a flash of inspiration. Sharing that, being that voice for teachers I respect so much, is a blessing I will count for a good long time. and now that I have a plane ticket, and thus a definite frame to this part of my journey, I am truly enjoying being here. Relishing, even. sleeping to the sound of the rivers, seeing the passer-bys in front of the crystal shop in the little mountain town. Planning for the Source event. And, like a melody I am just learning and already love, "... California I'm coming home." namaste

ambrosia

niema — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 23:03:52 GMT

Back in the day, pilgrims would appear at gateways and woody edges, speaking of a day they had spent in a sweet land, a forest glen or gentle and fertile valley. Ambrosia they had eaten, nectar they had drunk, ethereal music they had heard. Perhaps they had slain dragons, or been courted as visiting royalty. But still, only a day or two had passed. And yet, the world they returned to seemed vastly unfamiliar. They could not find their loved ones, their villages had grown larger or dwindled away. If they did not become overwhelmed by confusion, they would discover that months, seasons, or even years had passed in the day of their otherwordly adventure. Only then would they truly understand that they had been to an 'other' place, only when they where in the place that had once been home could they comprehend their journey. Then they would know they had danced with faeries or angels, been into a magic land. And the world as they had known it was truly, inexorably altered forever. Maui is such a land for me. Realizing that it is the end of December, that Chicago is covered in ice, while here it is just a bit colder and wetter, gives me significant pause. It feels eternal here, unchanging, even though the island is relatively quite young. Epic in both it's ambrosia and it's demons. And I have been treated both as a surfing gypsy and a visiting dignitary. I do have the grace and challenge of still being plugged into the current of the outside world, though I feel limited in my ability to do any thing about it. I itch to be working on the frontier of our consciousness shift. Things are dissolving and progressing so fast out there, I can only imagine what it will be like to return. How much older the world will feel than the few months of my departure. I was onstage last night. For just a moment, volunteering during a sketch in an improv comedy show, getting to be in front of the lights and playing and telling a story and hearing laughter and feeling that energy. I had forgotten how much I love being onstage. That was a timeless, faerie moment, eternal and fleeting all at once. There's some key in that. When life is art, when we are intently playing, when the stakes are both high and meaningless and the most important thing is that we tell our story, we are in this world and the other world, able to do magic that transcends all veils. happy new year. what are you slaying, what is your faerie land, and what are you creating where you are? namaste

longest nights

niema — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 03:53:27 GMT

Two years ago, I spent Solstice afternoon on a cold North Avenue Beach, sharing my gratitude with the Sun and the Lake on the nearly frozen shore. That night was a party where I met people that grew to become some of my closest friends. Last year was at Butterfly Social Club, riding the wave of a deep family, and, again, dancing and chatting till the wee hours. This year was just me, in a cabin temple in bamboo forest, in a river valley. I have grounded, after four months of travel and spare rooms and searching, in a healthy space for me. Epically gorgeous, alone but okay with it, dreaming and praying and visualizing the life I wish to create in the year to come, calling in the reborn Sun/Son, working on my ever evolving relationship with the Divine Masculine. I so wish to heal that rift. Feeling the everpresent ache for my family of friends, you know who you are, I miss you and love so much. And the gratitude, the gratitude for this challenging and beautiful journey, this amazing life. this year my affirmation is the same from two years ago, though more intense, and more real- may I be so completely my courageous, beautiful, freaky Self, that I serve to liberate others to be themSelves. I woke in the morning to the sound of birds, and heavy rain, watery sunlight and rushing river. Reset, as celebrating the shifting seasons is meant to do. Winter is different in the tropics. no snow, no ice. mosquitoes and rainbows. though it is colder and much rainier. There is a part of me that misses the huddling and bundling and camaraderie of Chicago winters, I must admit. Riding Mo wrapped in layers of wool and neoprene, finding warmth in each other. This year I will spend Christmas with new friends and their parents, and I am sure there will be laughter and warm hugs and yummy food. I am grateful for the sweet people I have met here, but if I could, I would pop into Chitown, to warm my Mom and squeeze a few people, with a layover in Colorado for a spell. I can instead send ocean breezes, rushing rivers, moonlight, birdsong, and the wish for hot fire and sweet dreams to my far away family. namaste

thanks giving

niema — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 06:47:42 GMT

I have imagined myself sweeping, as the monks sweep. tending the garden of the ashram. teaching yoga at dawn. I have imagined myself waking to the sounds of birds, eating food cultivated and gathered by my own hands, resting in my belovedʻs arms after a fulfilling day. I have imagined myself dancing, as the wild women dance who have many stories to tell. singing to crowds of rapt admirers. living in harmony with all on a magic land. But the floors I sweep are under clothes for sale. The garden I tend is not intended to feed me. The classes I teach are a service akin to a facial or pedicure. I am weary of having my fantasies blown apart by the reality of trying to live in a new, and expensive, land with little money. I had not realized how intense my rebellion against the common way of living was, until I found that even here, I am a strange one. But the wind blows, and the rain falls. The ocean roars. I find new friends and family at nearly every turn. I learn that this land has a magic I could not have understood before experiencing it. It is not Mauiʻs fault that I do not always like my reflection, that my intentions are not always crystal clear. I thought that leaving my home was the hard part, but this, this is harder still. I wanted to come here so much, and now I miss home with a yearning I feel I can never satisfy - for of course, one cannot satisfy a desire based on memory. Instead I am learning true integrity, holding space in a whirlwind. grounding wherever I happen to be. and sending love notes. California haunts me like a melody. Calls me like Hawaii did, but more grounded, more clear. more home. I had to come here, to learn what I am made of and choose what I wish to create in my life. I am so grateful for each intense moment. And I know what the next few steps are after this one. Iʻll be leaving here at the end of Spring, just when I finally get comfortable, Iʻm sure, for the Bay Area and grad school and Goddess gatherings and dreaming big the whole way. like I do. For now, I receive a kind of satisfaction from a floor well swept. From the smiles of students after class, whomever they may be. From a fruit picked that day. I am truly learning gratitude, and presence. When I slide into my surprisingly comfortable air mattress at the end of my days, I count my blessings. I do feel fulfilled, and I wake up happy to be alive. the temple of every day has many rooms, many gardens. It seems I came to paradise just to grow up. such a divine comedy we live in. namaste

rhapsody in rainbow

niema — Sun, 11 Nov 2007 01:33:13 GMT

not really a jungle girl. breathing deep to the sound of the river, but that flow was not for me. not for me there in the deep wet place where the land and the water merge. Fertile, yes, but hard to cultivate in the wild the wet, the weedy, the shadowy, the close. They say 'mud, mold, and mosquitoes' and i was no match for that damp, that drenched, that nearly wild place. the wind in the trees said 'please stay with us' but I only lasted three days in my puddled jungle tent. Like most things in this terrain, this game we call life we can grow in fertile land with light and space and air but lack of ventilation in my soul meant that no amount of breathing deep could give me peace when the mosquitoes would not stop not stop their buzz, buzz buzz, buzz buzzing, how does one meditate when so itchy? a few more scars to add to the rest not really a garden girl. surprising impatience with the bending and the pulling and the flies and the Sun and the kneeling and the pulling and the bugs and the worms and the dung and the Sun. But this I can do, this I can learn. I've stopped running away from the moment away from my choice to come here, but I am learning to crawl so I may walk so I may dance. Now I know the difference between Taro and Sweet Potato, between Sweet Pea and weed. I know my limit to the pulling and the digging, and I know just how much of a princess I really am. The desperate ignorance of a life of compartments, apartments, streets, civilisation, I'm learning my soul's appreciation of true Earth. The difference between the potted plants of my childhood and the wild of this land is the difference between an aquarium and the wild of this Ocean. This wild ocean, the waves the waves the ebb the flow the waves of my life. Feeling Beloved in the dissolution the disillusionment of separation, love remembered is not love still, love fantasised is not love real, nor is love promised love true, and yet I dream, yet I dream yet I dream of you. not really a Maui girl, though I already love this land and the people rooted here. the grace of rainbows that appear at just the moment they're needed, and geckos that speak when they hear the truth. Still I seek home that is only within, speaking to deep sister of community yet to come. Learning that this isolated islet is not the place for my roots, they would get lost in the weeds or eaten by the generations of tortured souls and angry natives who cannot yet tell the difference between me and the conquerors. How is it that we have polluted every land of this sweet Earth with the blood of the wise and simple to own what is beyond any of us? I have work to do here, and work to do there, and so I give this land a frame of time, a few measures of my rhyme before I journey on. Still relying on the kindness of newly not-strangers to stay in relative comfort, riding the edge of lack and abundance, creating and surrendering, knowing where I will sleep tonight but not next week nor month, nor year. Last night a sweet folksinger musing of true wealth, poverty and richness entertwined. The lesson of this island is true abundance, that creativity and receptivity is maximized when you work for it with open heart and hand. I feel alone here, new friends and all. But I have dreamed of family singing, and I have promises made that will vibrate through all the Sunrises of this life, and I have felt Beloved's touch in the timeless moment between sleep and wake, and I have heard our children laughing. oh sweet Ma, I humbly ask forgiveness for my inability to live as a muddy jungle child, though I honor You deeply , it seems you have places I dare not stay. Places for some to live, but where I can only visit. Perhaps I asked for more than I could handle, to be Your voice, to travel Your skin and gather stories of Your children, I did not realize how much I would miss home and how addicted I am to creature comfort. But I have seen the dragons of the deep, I know I am frightened most of my own Shadow, which is but myself, which is but my alto song and my dark night and my deep well and I will connect to that power and I will bring it home and I will sing Your song all the days of my life. And now I've crossed the threshold and there is no going back, no staying still lest I wear out my welcome and the little dark things that fly and sting finally devour me. Only on, and up, and in. I let the waves in my heart wash me out to Sea. I travel and seek and love, only to be. We pray and we fight and we toil, only to be free. namaste

all soul's day

niema — Fri, 02 Nov 2007 00:33:51 GMT

traditionally, today is the day we honor those who have passed on to the next world. The veil is thin, we dressed as gruesome creatures to both honor and dispel the shadow, within and without. It is strange to me to be warm in November. I spent yesterday afternoon on a Beach on the hot part of the island, I know in Chicago and even Cali you are preparing to hunker down for Winter. Here it just rains more, with shorter days. But I do feel the shift, the harvest time, the time of reckoning and letting go. In olden days the celebrations came after the good work, when the community was sure there would be enough food to last the Winter. Now we hold Beltane rituals at Samhain, nakedness and drunkenness (at least on Front Street) perhaps because we have a different relationship to work, to harvest, to the seasons. Perhaps because we have forgotten how to honor our ancestors, or because we are more afraid of death in the cult of fabricated youth. I lit up my sister's old fire staff for the first time last Sunday, to the drums, on the beach. Riding the edge of letting go, of burning and dancing, celebrating and necessarily staying present to stay alive, seems to be the theme of the season. as I get ready to move in to my new tent-home in the slightly domesticated jungle, I am grateful to all of life that led to me, ancestors and food. some cultures make candy or bread that resembles skeletons for this day, eating their dead. Compost, of a sort. that seems to be an answer to our current global dilemma - we need only use what we already have, wisdom and seeming waste, and we will always have plenty. to let go, but not throw away. the veil is thin today, but do not fear your shadow, just turn and dance with it. namaste

gainfully employed

niema — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 22:55:55 GMT

its sunny in haiku the rains will come again, it is that season, after all. teaching in a studio again, that feeling I know so well shown on the students' faces, the peace after a class that challenged and enlivened, the mutual gratitude for wisdom shared, trust, flow. like getting a limb back, or a sense, teaching again. a job pulling weeds and moving trees. the simple physical meditation, making space as much in my head as in the Earth. so many ways to hear the ocean. and a home, in a tent, space that is just for me, a structure to cook and practice in, living in the jungle but able to be in town when I need. again and again, how we get precisely what we ask for in ways that must make us chuckle. funny, Universe, very funny. and Ma, oh sweet Ma, all the many ways I get to dance for you - a BM regional here in the Winter, Red Tents and Goddess Temples next Summer, full moons and celebrations and this perfect breath. now if only I could use love for fuel in the car, and eat only what grows on the island, but I will continue to do the best I can. it's sunny in Haiku right now, though the rains will come again soon. it is that season, after all. it is the rain that allows the fruit to grow. the Ocean that breaks down all our parts to the essence, and from what we grow into beings again. racing to the Ocean, and again being flung to the shore. when I was hiking in and out of Kalalau, many songs passed through my head to keep me company. One that came often was a Journey song that Dev, Liz, Seven and I sang in Kentucky, and has served me well since - "Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest. Don't you cry no more" except for the crying part, I think they were pretty right on. though I suppose that depends on your definition of peace. it's sunny in Haiku, though the rains will come again. But I have learned enough of life to be glad for the water, and fear no cloud. it is the season, after all. namaste

the loving trickster

niema — Sun, 21 Oct 2007 23:03:11 GMT

we can plan and plan and plan our days or we can watch the glorious setting sun only when we reach the bottom, when surrendering is not just a mental construct but a visceral, vital, all-encompassing way of life. when there is no room left for our plans, for they all fall through. and every breath is a prayer. in the pudding that desperation, mixed with faith, infused with a thorough sprinkling of joy, can make; Grace appears in the smallest things. dreams of Californication giving way to being present. Be here now. and the practice that is how deep you can stretch. letting go but NOT giving in. giving up, up, up, out, and having space to receive. and climbing barefoot. and swimming naked in the ocean further out then I would have thought I can go. so here I sit, through till Spring. breathing deep. rainbows and sunsets, the road to Hana, and spreading the word (i'm here and i can do ___ and i need a ___, hello, it's a pleasure to meet you) and knowing that this is where I belong because the beloved has been here first. and laughing through it all, mostly at myself.

gretchen

niema — Mon, 15 Oct 2007 22:29:42 GMT

sometimes it is our perceptions that are the hardest to let go of. I bought a car yesterday, an old Volvo that everyone says is very reliable and safe. It was kind of exciting to drive 'my car' for the first time ever. I named her Gretchen cause she's a reliable old European grandma in a kerchief, with a big heavy bag, sometimes surly but very helpful. But as I look through owner's manuals and make an appointment for a new tire, all I can really think of is how much I miss being able to get around by bike, or CTA or BART. Or even throwing Mo on top of my sister's car after a long day of teaching and dancing. I had reached a point where I was certain I would never own a car. But some jobs require specific tools, I suppose, and letting go takes many forms. And there are some incredible views out the driver's side. namaste

the valley isle

niema — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 23:40:03 GMT

In the Hawai'ian pantheon, Maui is the trickster god. Second Chakra, younger sister, she is beautiful and seductive and creative. Dangerous if you try to tame her (or, as I did, arrive on the island expecting to instantly make a living). Juicy if you let her provide for you as only she can. I am experiencing the deep challenge and awesome bliss of 2 weeks of morning practices with Nicky and Eddie, amazing Yoga teachers. Looking my perceived limitations in the eye, and loving even when my failure to get into a handstand brings me to tears. No ego, nothing to accomplish, the precise alignment and long holdings that nourish me so much. what deep lessons. And my body feels so good! I am in a whirlwind of grace and challenge and hope and dwindling finances, using the tools I know to start up my new life and career in a land where 'you either have to be really rich or really determined.' I am still not entirely sure why I am here, having fond memories of Chicago and California dreams. After the months of planning, then the Burn and the Bay and Earthdance and Kaua'i, moving, exploring, being here and slowing down and trying to make a living is hard. But the Ocean is Mama. The waterfalls and distant vistas are magical. The soft rains and bright rainbows of Haiku. The gratitude of having pleasant and loving, and patient, hosts. A bed to sleep in after a month of cushions and pads. The people who are almost painfully chill, and as surprising in their moments of egoism as their moments of true consciousness. Deciding if I want the cheap Mazada car with doors that don't lock. me who prizes both my freedom and the fact that I've never owned a car. But I want to experience the whole island, and the ability to explore in my own way that I had before with bikes and public transit. It seems a cage is required here for freedom. Hawai'i is such a land of contradictions. Mostly I am breathing deep, and praying, and trusting. allowing. I will always value having left home, following this call. I am committed to being here through May, giving it my best and loving unconditionally every moment of this adventure. California calls for the Summer, and by the end of next year's Burn I will know whether to come back and build a home here, or stay in Cali, or journey elsewhere. But I have taken more than a single step on this journey of a thousand miles, and somewhere in the beginning of my Saturn return I am trying to live this flow. And the only way to ride the surf is the edge. namaste

every step a prayer

niema — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 09:18:04 GMT

Kalalau Valley the air is sweeter here. plums and wild ginger. thick . alive. everything is damp and luscious. the sound of the river. and the rain. and the ocean. it is the wind-the trees dance, the waves roll, the rocks fall. it is the wind i remember the sound of the river. i did not know we could feel so frightened and so free at the same time. it takes two days to reach it, hours of walking across a trail only a crazy man would cross. I've never danced with death so clearly before. if I had known what I would face, I do not know I would have had the courage to go. but the sound of the river. pulled from across the ocean. told by family and strangers that i would love it. challenged every step of the way that only faith would dare me to attempt . alone, unknowing. the simple wisdom of the fool. i didn't let myself cry till i reached the sign at the beginning of the Valley. but the sound of the river and the wind in the trees. the feel of rock beneath my skin. it took me three days after arriving to get into the river, let it wash over my head. lying naked on it's bank. walking barefoot on the dry leaves and mud. letting the mana, the juice, in all the way to my core- ah this is 'grounding'. this is what it means to 'be present.' and i'll remember the sound of sleeping and waking to the river for the rest of my days. every rock, every mosquito, every leaf teaching me to be. harmony is listening and singing at the same time. pooping outside, being smelly and wild. but still brushing my teeth and washing my hands. hearing. every. sound. every drop of water on the planet, every rock and speck of dirt, is making it's way down to the sea. slowly through layers and layers in single file, or helter-skelter gorging a path on it's way, the water or rock is returning to it's source. Life is what happens along the way. the river's motion gives life to the Valley. the juice is the journey. all living beings are returning to Source. so clear the air here. the people i dreamt of, and missed, the layers i let go. the life i dreamed and am ready to dance into creation now. so clear my mind here. the freedom and the joy. the simple and complex gratitude. and then back, the path a little more ominous, but somehow less treacherous than before, mud and all. he said 'it's not so much challenging, as it is humbling," the night that we met. it's both. and more. and worth it. oh goody, i get to be new again! on the long-since blank sign just inland of where it becomes the scariest, my only trace left are the words: "Every Step A Prayer" in ink only, they too will fade with time. but they are with me always. namaste

banyan

niema — Thu, 27 Sep 2007 21:00:18 GMT

inside the cathedral of banyan trees treading on roots and wet leaves, sweet against the skin. "that's a good way to start," she says, meaning feeling the Earth with each step, revelling in the sensation - eventually you walk barefoot nearly everywhere. these trunks that are roots that are all twisted tree, each branch a cell. how taking off shoes becomes another method of letting go. you can't help but dance with these trees, entertwine when they sit just so, waiting for palm or sole or cheek against their only slightly scratchy bark. sounds are muffled and have soft edges, one into the next, filtered by the layers of branch and leaf. the ground is soft from all the rain, shoes become an obscenity. water seems sweeter when it drips from a leaf onto your tongue. if you listen gently enough, the trees have a song for you.

yes, a mango can be too ripe.

niema — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 08:17:13 GMT

what a difference a night by the ocean can make! My hostess here is an island princess, I am so grateful for her company and wealth of knowledge, but sometimes I feel like a lumbering goat trying to keep up with her lithe barefooted prowess. We camped guerilla style at a little bay halfway up the East coast, scrambling over rocks to sit on the beach, then rushing back when the rains came. A car picnic, then the rain stopped just long enough for us to set up our tents. All night long, the sound of the ocean and the rain. Moonlight streaming through watery clouds. Being told, but more, just knowing that there is nothing to fear in these night woods, nothing more treacherous than a fly or centipede (though the incessant crowing of the wild cocks is pretty funny. Apparently the roosters here cuckoo whenever they feel, regardless of time of day or the Sun's position in the sky) Whatever the locals may tell you, be wary of road mango. The fruit here is rather abundant, we scored acerola cherries, starfruit, guava, avocado, and mango, growing on the side public roads, or what had already fallen on the ground just outside of people's fences. But that last mango did me in. A long day and night of food poisoning really brought home the lesson that food is medicine, especially here, and I can't get away with anything less than complete impeccability and full presence, or my body and the island will school me something fierce. Feeling better by morning, and then a lovely day exploring Hanalei, and on the beach. I am falling in love with the ocean, though I am not very graceful yet. Ev is teaching me, it is mostly breathing deeply, dancing with the waves by either riding on top or going under them. I didn't know it would be so hard, and so much about letting go while being deeply focused. I've drinken a few cups of salt-water, but my cold and my skin cleared up quickly. We sat in the Sun for hours today, and a shared a coconut (not very sweet but full of mana) and then explored a beautiful cove that required trespassing and rock scurrying to reach, but was well worth the effort. We collected shells, and talked story. I tried Poi (Taro pudding), the locals love it but I think it tastes like paste. By the time we were returning to our home of the moment, both of us felt lighter and more grounded. This island is seductive, as quiet as it is riotous. Home to the wettest place on Earth and some of the most beautiful beaches- ridiculous wealth next to injust poverty. Palm trees and Taro fields The oldest island, some say Kaua'i is Lemuria, the gathering place of the ancient tribes, Grandmother Island, keeper of visions and mystery. For now I will watch sunrises and sunsets, lie in moonlight and midday beach sun. and sleep to the sound of the rain. namaste