Journal Entry: May 21, 2017

I woke up at 7:30 a.m. Normal for these days. Seems the older I get the earlier I want to rise, even on a Sunday. Maybe that's because my life feels more precious as each day passes, or as I have more recently realized, this life I roam around in gets more exploratory and curious as said days roll by.

So, I check in with myself: "Girl? What you want to do today? It is ALL yours after all."
Me: "I want to go have a good cup of tea, sip it while sitting outside in this fog, and then have a good  walk on the shore."
Me: "Done! GO!"

I hit the house kettle for a pre-cuppa before I officially decide anything else, and at the same time I reluctantly decide to get in the shower. My bed head also seems more exploratory and curious these days too, so even though I could have skipped the shower alltogether, I thought I needed to present myself at least for the seagulls I would likely see on my shore walk. I dressed, put on my sweatshirt and threw on my down black Patagonia vest over it. Perfect combo of warmth guaranteed.

I got in my car at 8:30. Driving was dreamlike in the soupy fog that sets in on the mornings here during late Spring early Summer at the ocean side. I also knew that inland would be hot today and that the crowds would be making their way out to the shore by noon latest, so I wanted to be out there on the still quiet roads and shores before then. Truth be told: I have always liked the ocean to myself.

The Aquatica Cafe in Jenner is the perfect sleepy Sunday morning destination. The music and scene inside the rustic funky hipster-milinial employed shoppe offers a Nor-Sonoco-Cal greeting that can't be matched. It's laid back, chill, and subtly energized. It was the Beatles playing this morning, and although I am not a fan, Good Day Sunshine seemed to work for the overall vibe that was happening through the fog. I had loose leaf Earl Grey with cream, and sat in the two seater wood chair out by the mouth of the Russian River. I closed my eyes and breathed in several times. The smell was a blend of the mouth of a river and  fresh salt, and I felt like I was still in bed.

A good handful of kayakers were already prepping to put in just at the waters edge near to where I sat, and the colorful oranges and greens of the gliding narrow boats looked like anxious sea creatures waiting to cruise to the grey blue surface. Various people wearing Tevas and Keens with dirt laden feet walked along the deck of the cafe and I realized I never did look up at their faces. I imagined them having camped in tents close by, awakening to the sound of the waves, rising and feeling open and Earthy and ready for the communion of a day on the water.

I sat for an hour there in that chair. I just sat, listening to the hum of conversations, watching feet, and thinking of not much at all. This I decided, was the perfect way to start a day. I felt I had slept on the Earth as well, which I equated as the reason for lack of thought. My favorite quote kept rolling through me....."Empty the mind of all thought, let your heart be at peace", but that wasn't a thought as much as a reminder.

I arrived at South Goat Rock and there was nothing but that fog and the sound of waves to greet me.  As I walked, I stumbled upon the ebb and flow of those waves moving through the larger mounds of pebbles that collected on the shore. That is by far one of my favorite sounds to experience. It can't be sufficiently compared to any other sound. It's it's own sound. I suddenly wanted to lay down on the pebbles and let the waves roll over me too. I wanted to be one with, and then finally become that sound. That sound. But I kept walking and asked "What sound am I?" That was my question.

Such questions only come while walking the shore. Questions and songs actually. There's a rhythm that aligns in me when I am being with the sea. We came from the water, and therefore we know it in our molecules and cells. It's unmistakable. You just gotta listen to yourself closely. Waves moving, my body moving, pebbles shifting, my feet stepping, sea-birds floating, my mind emptying. Rhythm.

I decide to record the "waves through pebbles" sound so I can fall asleep to it tonight, and every night I want to become that sound. Chosen perfection is always available.

Then I came home and stacked wood, made food for the week, did some laundry, made a small batch of fruity sangria which I am sipping as I write and listen to some kick ass Thievery Corporation jams. Along with that, there's also the delicious wafting scent drifting through the house of the sweet and gold potato chips I'm baking in the oven.

Best of all, the long time sun is still high in the now warm blue sky, and I want to lavish throughout the dusk into the dark. I could do this day 100 times in a row. This is life. This is the exploration of the curious soul I call SELF.

If you read this.....It's not your fault

Last night as I was falling asleep and in that place that is closer to the dreaming world, I heard a voice. It was a woman's voice, and it was one of the purest voices I have ever heard. Clear, gentle, soft, kind, open, loving, and I am sure it wasn't a voice of someone I knew here on the Earth plane. The lovely voice said "It's not your fault", and that was all she said.

Now, I have to come clean and share that I have had plenty of mystical experience in my day. Some being out of body flying around, lucid dreams, visitations from various beings (known and unknown), other dimensional spheres opening into plain sight (that is a total trip), and some other fascinatingly bizarre shit that if I told you, you would maybe think I was a bit off my rocker, which some probably already think such! And, I often hear soft whispering voices letting me know a helpful guiding message or two as well. This feels normal to me because in my experiences the 'most of the time' invisible worlds seem way more real and dependable to me. Those other realms are rich with unmistakable vividness, there's a pure feeling of simply knowing of the true self and where one belongs in the order of all things, a crystal clear sense of purposefully directed consciousness, and an absolute undeniable truth that permeates every point of that consciousness. (I'm sure your soul remembers at least a little of all that whilst reading.)

But this message last night was curious. I had to ponder why she was telling me this specifically. Over the years, I feel I have cleared much of my shame that can be sort of automatic being a human. To explain a bit further on why I feel that is a common human experience and have taken the time to clear that all up in myself: If you hadn't noticed, we are kind of instilled and hard wired mostly by organized religion and the overall culture to feel we have no real place here, that we are born in original sin and that there is a controlling, punishing god who doesn't really like us anyway and that said God should be feared, all of which fucks us from the start.

The foundational message is basically that we are puppeted peons and have no right to exist. Now that there is some crazy assed thought, because why would something that essentially created humans feel so pissed about having done so? Just to be an asshole to it's own creation? That is just about the most ridiculous though concoction I have ever heard. Which leads me to believe that only a human could have come up with such a concoction. That there is called free will. But what's the best is we also have the choice to agree and align with what thoughts we'd like to believe. That there is free will at it's finest. Again: choose wisely.

But all that sloppy God thought leads to a set point of human made shame that we are even alive and have to constantly somehow feel bad about that. I know what I exemplified as religion here is primarily a Catholic/ Christian world view/belief structure stance, with all the confessions and hail Mary's, the endless begging Jesus for forgiveness, and doing insane things in the name of religion in the first place. But there has always been this human made Man-God which doesn't leave much room for us to just chill and enjoy the pleasures of our life and this planet of astounding beauty. Pleasure? It's supposed to be about experiencing pleasure? Yep, it is, but what 'they' have told you, either directly or indirectly, is that this life is definitely NOT supposed to be about that.

My feeling is that it's that ongoing shame that eats away at the psyche in that denial of pleasure that just makes people do weird shit that disturbs the whole. They possibly feel some deep seeded shame for enjoying themselves or their life because they are told they're not allowed to, and that they'll go to hell or another scary place if they do. Then it just backfires and they rebel like a cranky teenager in that idea, and behave in such ways that can make the world and humans a very confusing thing. And on top of that, all that shame and guilt probably makes this Man-God have to work 24/7 overtime and that's probably why the worldwide clergy says this Man-God is so annoyed with humans anyways and is sending it's wrath to shut the humans up. That never seems to work though right? I am decidedly creating a theory of man-kind.

O.k. enough of talking about a mean, annoyed Man-God.

More recently, I have also felt the comfort of feeling I truly belong here and that I have a mission and I will execute that mission before I travel onward. And I will continue to do that unapologetically and shame-free. I also like to remind myself often that we are all not officially from here, but came through a whole other persons body, and will leave our own body someday, and therefore we are just visiting and cruising around for awhile doing only the things we can do on this physical gorgeous Earth ball.

And there is so much pleasure to be had here. I mean, just stepping outside into the sun after a long winter of rain can be the most pleasurable experience there is. And the color green on all the trees and hills? And the sky as blue as the sea? And the feeling of the cool wind on your skin? And the hug from your beloved or friend? And making love in the late afternoon? And sipping that first sip of warm beverage in the morning? And that perfect meal with all the right flavors that your mouth and body loves? Music? Dancing? Deviled eggs? Q-Tips? And smiling just because? All pleasure my darlings! ALL PLEASURE.

So, with this whole collection via personal theory and deduction, I think what the messenger was really reminding me of last night as she whispered that in my ear was this pleasure I feel is not my fault. It's what IS, and what I now know is that it wants to rush in and fill my life so totally. It's not meant to feel guilty about. Fuck guilt! Fuck shame!

In other words......It's not my fault "Pleasure is the New Black." It's not my fault that life wants me to enjoy it more fully even if the whole rest of the world is looking like a big old mess. It's not my fault if others don't want to join in on the pleasure ride. It's not my fault if life wants to greet me with awesomeness and wants me to feel grateful and in wonder about it all. It's just not my fault. And you know what?....I am sticking to it, because I realize it's actually pleasures fault and the pleasure is truly mine. I hope it's yours too.

At The Scene of a Blog: Reading in the Rain

 There's something to be said for persistence. I find this especially true when I finish a whole entire book like I did this morning. I woke to pouring rain wrapped in a blustery windy storm. It's been a perfect and huge reason to stay put in my cottage all day. Time to read, and plenty of time to make a smoked salmon, green onion omelette for breakfast as I also wait holding my breath before the power goes out. And then there was time to write. Read, eat, write. Repeat. Forever. 

 Upon rising, with the stormy sky clouding three quartes more of morning light through my seven windows, I lit two candles, burned my white sage, and picked up Anne Lamott's book, "Some Assembly Required" that I've been hoping to finish, and got back in bed to read. New true love: Morning in-bed reading. Who knew?

  

  Truth be told, more so lately I want to be someone who considers herself a "good and prolific reader".  I think I've been in denial about being that person. It's like I think I do read a lot, but I do not read as much as I really have always wanted to. I would like to become someone who reads every day, devouring books that I can't get enough of, like eating excellent food with an amazing dessert to complete the meal. Yes, like most of us, I do have a stack of  "meaning to read these" next to my bed, and several "half read, gotta get back to finish them" on my bookshelves.

 Being most of my bookshelf books are non-fiction of the metaphysical/spiritual text, I find I often dip into them for a spell to gather some soul food, and then move on for another spell into another book. But, the move on part can take a month or a year or so. With my poetry books, I use these as quick-fix soul food, and this I believe is what they are meant to be. A good poem once or twice a month can last me for a solid several months. I call this dosing on poems.

 When I do drop into a book, I read fast and absorb stories somewhat viscerally. When the book is really captivating, I become a part of the story and hear the 'voice' of the author and characters in my head long after I put the book down. It's the experience of being a part of the story and that cannot be substituted by anything. Reading also makes me want to write, as when I am so taken by others art, I often want and need to express my own creativity. We are one big artistic expression experiment together after-all aren't we? May we continue to inspire one another. 

 In retrospect, some of my resistance in reading a lot was that there was a point in time in my 20's where I thought that if I read too many books, my mind would be too cluttered with other peoples thoughts and ideas about things. In elaboration, I am also one to be sort of skeptical of many others thoughts, and I simply didn't want to have so much of  'other people' swirling in me.  I also know myself to be fairly susceptible to suggestion, but would say in the same breath, I am not easily brainwashed by scientific, 'fact based' logic. 

 I am not saying people are bad or are overall too confused in their thoughts, (maybe weird, but not bad) nor that they don't have some good things to say, but in my humble opinion, overall, much of what humans think is sort of odd, and quite honestly, kinda predictable to me. That could be translated as a form of ADD, or that I'm arrogant, or interpreted that I get bored easily. Those could all be true, but I think it's mostly because I used to feel that I simply needed to keep a pure un-cluttered mind in some way so as to listen to my own self before being lead astray by others ideas. Perhaps this was my own version of self-discipline or some form of my own religion. I admire a pure mind. And, I admire those who can carve a new thought in my mind.  I also felt that some people were just readers, and some just writers, but the writers were not required to read, and the readers were not required to write. Case closed. 

 As I leaned more into my early 30's, I realize that most of our thoughts whether we want them to be or not, are gathered and influenced by other peoples beliefs, opinions, and "facts" anyways. But if we are wise in deciphering what our own truth is, we take what feeds us and spit out the rest. Maybe I just haven't given myself enough of a chance to be opened more in a way that would support my intellectual, emotional and spiritual growth at this time in my life where it seems more and more that the well needs filling.

 For this hunger in the past, and even present, I have always stayed close to the philosopher mystical poets because I feel they have a foot in both worlds, have a refreshing perception, and keep me grounded there with them. I would go as far as humbly saying that I consider myself one of them, or at least strive to be refreshing and pure in that way when expressing my creative voice. 

The philosopher/poet comes few and far between. I instantly think of my beloved Rainer Maria Rilke, the late and stunning John O'Donohue, of course David Whyte for his permanence. There's Mary Oliver for her observing depth, and I can't leave out the revolutionary poet Saul Williams too, when I think of this kind of mystical poet. I consistently find them lifting me out of times of inner complacency of thought, and easefully dipping me into a place where there is that deeper sound and slowed soul time within me. They bring me to the place of accessing that richness of truer meaning of our lives that I feel in our increasingly technological world culture, seems to want to disengage and numb us to. These poetic mystics share that meaning of the natural world, the inner landscapes of corporal existentialism, breathtaking beauty, and beyond all of that, what I feel is our real spiritual thread of the mysterious and very present divinity that connects us to ourselves and others.

 Sometimes I have even thought that I don't really know what I would do, nor how I would feel or be within myself in this ever intense world without these word smiths that have and continue to carve that resonance of what I consider a 'purity of thought' in me. They assist me in keeping close to that individual and shared heartbeat. I feel blessed by each of them for what they offer of their soul through their written and spoken words. This remembrance is essential to our survival.

 I have also just landed upon Terry Tempest Williams work, and oh my my my, have I found yet another blessing! She is something of a epiphany to me. In opening her book "When Women Were Birds",  I literally felt her words alive and awaken in me something so true that I was kind of blown away. I realized again the power of a unique and authentic written voice. In this specific book, she speaks about voice so potently, as she observes her own and the women of her lineage as well. It's like witnessing a completely secret world that only she knows exactly how to articulate. Her brilliance is blatant.

  In my current obsession, I am actually moved to find her in person, and hopefully without too much intrusion, arrive at her door, bring her a pot of black-black tea with cream, and some dark purple-blue Iris's in a mason jar. Then, in my now obvious fantasy, we would sit down on what I imagine would be a very cozy couch, or at the big wooden table I am certain she has in the open light of the dining room, and have a good thorough chat about it all. Just all of it. I would, without a doubt, let her thoughts infuse me, and I would not be so concerned about being brainwashed. In the morning, I'll Google her and see what her schedule is, and drop her a note about me bringing her hot tea and flowers.

  Yes, I am fully ready to be more inspired this next cycle of a year by the truth seekers and the wisdom keepers. The truth of parts of me forgotten, the truth of knowing that we are weaved together by stories, thoughts and feelings that can't always be experienced and shared in the outer world. It's the wisdom of the world from the inside of things when they come out through this collective story within and between pages. Ink typed in symbols of font called words on paper...... the texture and sound of pages being turned......And most of all the imagination activated at full force. May this never become a lost art.

I am acutely aware I have just learned to read for the first time......

And Then There Was Sujitha

         

                                       

  As I lingered around waiting to attend the 10am Sunday service at the Center for Spiritual Awakening in Pacific Grove, I found myself sitting on my favorite bench at Asilomar Conference Center. That bench has always been my go to refuge when I spend time in that area, since I had been to the Science of Mind conference at Asilomar over my formative youth-filled and teen years. It was a time of wonderful and insightful spiritual growth for me, as well as having connection with amazing people, and learning from prominent inspiring new thought, metaphysical speakers and teachers from all over the world. Being the 'seeker of the mystical' I was at that time (and still am!), it was certainly a little slice of personal heaven for me to have had experienced.

 That bench is a very peaceful spot for my soul, filled with the sound of the ocean and the wind moving through the dunes. It always awakens so many memories in me, and my own personal communion with the universe. I would say it is for sure one of my spiritual homes on earth. One solitary bench. Once, a few years back, I looked up to see one of my favorite poet/philosophers David Whyte stroll past me when I sat there alone. It wasn't too unusual, as I was attending one of his weekend conferences at Asilomar. But I so wanted to stop and ask him to come sit, so we could have a good conversation about life, but I chickened out. And it would have been a quintessential moment, and certainly perfect for it to have happened on that bench. 

 So, I sat and prayed there with a full heart for being blessed to be sitting there, to have peace in my heart, and also connection in my heart to myself and my source.  And of course to have compassion, and  be of loving service to myself and others in the world. It was a beautiful moment of remembering that I am never too far from the truths and blessing awaiting me in my heart.  

 When I finally arrived at the church and sat down before the service began, I saw the little collection envelope set in the pocket on the back of the seat in front of me. the envelope had an image of Lakshmi, the Hindu Goddess of wealth, fortune, and prosperity, along with a small prayer about the Eternal Mother caring for us all. The image somehow gave me comfort, so I held the envelope in my hand for the entire service and looked down at her at different points to just feel that comfort. 

 I had this moment of thinking had I gazed long enough at Lakshmi, I could possibly have a Shaktipat of sorts, that at times spontaneous mystical awakening that one can receive if they gaze at a guru's image. I of course did not know yet that something was conspiring behind the scenes that had very much to do with this image, and a few other Hindu Gods and Goddess and an awakening that would occur right before me. 

 After the rejuvenating service, I realized I needed to stop for gas for my long journey back home, so I cruised into Monterrey proper to fill up. I found a Valero gas station and pulled in.  Now, the thing you should know about me and Valero gas stations, is that over the years I usually find that when I roll into them, there is usually something suspicious going on with my car. 

 Once, I had a rolled into one only to find I had a flat tire, and another time an over heated radiator. Another was when I had forgotten my cell phone and I needed to make an urgent call. And like a beacon, there was a phone booth at the Valero just in time, where most every other place in the known Universe no longer had phone booths. Initially I had thought I should avoid Valero's altogether, because it seemed unfortunate things happened there, but realized when I thought about it more closely, that Valero gas stations were more likely the places that rescued me and my car when it was needed most. Valero does mean "Valiant" (Latin) after all, so I should have gotten the clue a little quicker! 

 Feeling the ocean breeze on my face, I filled up my tank and then went inside the station to get myself a beverage for my drive. I found and picked out the new coconut beverage I was digging, and went to the counter. There was a middle-aged East Indian woman cashier, and she had a welcoming smile. I noticed her name tag right away; Hello my name is Sujitha. 

 We said hello and in her thick Indian accent she said, "You needed a drink because it's getting hot out there!"  

"For sure!" I said, "And this drink is so good, I just recently discovered it. Do you like coconut?" I replied. 

"Yes! Yes! We offer fresh coconuts to the Gods and Goddesses in our daily prayers. I love coconut taste too." She said.

 I told her to go get a cup and I would let her try some of my drink. She was so happy to receive the offer, and immediately went to the back room and returned with a small yellow plastic coffee cup. I poured her some and she did that smell, sip, then smile thing, so I was glad the drink passed the coconut taste test. We got to chatting a bit more about offering coconuts to the Hindu Gods/Goddesses and she asked if I knew much about Hinduism and if there was a Punjabi (her specific sect) temple where I lived. I told her I did not know of one, but if I found one I would likely go check out a service or two. 

 What I realized most about talking with Sujitha, is that I felt instantly comfortable with her. We made easy eye contact, and I felt we did in fact have one of those connections you have at times with someone you meet in passing at gas stations or other "one stop probably never see that person again" type places. But those connections to me often feel sort of significant. Just an openhearted moment between two strangers. Maybe it was because I shared my coconut drink, and maybe because she shared her devotion to her religion which was interspersed with almost everything she shared with me in that 10 minutes or so. Oh, and I should mention at this point you should probably also know that the name Sujitha means "Great Conquer." 

 We soon said our farewells, and as I walked to the door I just felt it in me to turn and say "Namaste" to her along with the customary prayer hands together pose and small bow of the head. I felt it was appropriate since we had made the kindly connection we did, and because that is the formal salutation in the East Indian culture. But I will admit I also felt kind of silly after doing it! 

 Now, another thing you must know about me is that I do not use the Namaste salutation with all that many people. I think that is because I live in West County, California where it does feel blandly overused.....even though it's a lively intentional meaningful acknowledgement towards another. In its essence it means, "The divine in me bows to the divine in you." Any which way, Sujitha seemed to appreciate that extension and Namaste'd me back. I was happy, humbled, and went off to get in my car to head home.  

 When I started my car, I looked up to suddenly see her walking out of her post and directly towards me, and so I opened my car window. She smiled shyly and then said, 

"Where do you know the salutation Namaste?" (At first I thought maybe I was busted for using it!) 

Then I said, "I have learned it some from my mantra practices, and I know it's also your cultural greeting and farewell." 

 She asked if I practiced, and I told her I had learned and chanted many Hindu mantras over the years, and was also familiar with at least a couple handfuls among the thousands of God/Goddesses of her religion. Then I noticed her eyes lighting up a bit more, and suddenly we were engaged with one another again. 

 She asked if I knew Ganesha and Shiva, and I said of course! (I love me some Ganesha...the clearer of obstacles, a redemptive guiding force.) And Shiva...."The Auspicious One", and the third god of the triumvirate, the other two being Brahma and Vishnu. I will say, I felt a little self conscious when going on about mantra and the deities, but, she was kind and patient with me, and seemed to at least humor me that I knew some about it all. 

 But, I realized I did in fact know more than I had thought, easily noting who was who, what they represented, and the importance of chanting mantras. In that moment, something re-awakened inside me, which was that I am definitely drawn to Hindu spiritual culture more than most other paths or religions. This I believe is because of its smells, it's colors, sounds, deities, but mostly because of its deeply mystical aspects. Just the fact that its been around long enough to have a solid foundation of believers, being marked in written Vedic text as the oldest religion at 4,500 years of Earth age.  

 Sujitha then became quiet and her face changed. She looked me deep in the eyes, and within an instant had a forlorn, concerned expression that fell over her and she then softly says, 

"Am I ok? Am I going to be ok? What do you see for me?" 

 I was not particularly taken aback, because I am comfortable with others getting real with me should they want or need to, but realized right then that our stranger connection had shifted, and it was now at that other place where there is a vulnerable confiding happening, which often creates an instant private bubble of intimacy. I then, as also happens, I felt my heart just open to her in the intimate same way. Real human connection was happening. 

 As I looked her directly back into her eyes, I asked her what was happening for her, and why and what she needed and wanted me to "see" for her? 

She then confides, "My husband, he's been gone for three days, he's sleeping with other women. My heart is broken. I get depressed and I suffer. I am frightened that I will not be ok. Will I be ok? What do you see? What do I need to do?"

 At that point I opened my car door and stood up, all the while the car still running while we stood in front of the gas pump. And then as if I was having a vision, I began to actually see for her. And I could 'see' her and her world so clearly in those moments. I was what I call when it happens, 'taken by a vision', and I wanted nothing but good and love for her.

 I saw that her heart and mind needed rest and connection. I suggested she take care of her heart first, that she needed to do so to calm her mind and body. I suggested she do her favorite mantras. That she would do well to go connect with nature with her gods/goddesses sitting in her heart. In this vision, I saw her walking by the sea side which was just three blocks away from where we were, to fill her soul with the things that would nurture her broken heart. I let her know she was not alone, that Ganesha, Shiva, Krishna, and all of her protectors were looking over her. And with humility and friendship to offer, that I was too.

 She nodded with her head down, and had agreed that was what she needed for her self. She looked up again, and in a flurry of questions, then wanted to know what I could see about her husband. She was urgent in her inquiry. 

"Was he ok? Was he with other women and was he going to come home? Would he always do bad karma and leave her lonely? Why was he doing this?"   

 So I tried to see him in a vision too. Even though I did not know this man, I searched deep in my heart to feel him. And I did suddenly feel him, perhaps through her. I shared with her what I saw. I saw and felt that he was somewhat "lost". That he perhaps didn't know truly in what way he was hurting her, because his heart was shut down, so he could not return to her fully. I felt and saw also that he was trying to fill his own broken heart with these other women. 

 Sujitha said, "He won't look me in the eye, he hardly spoke to me before he went away for these last three days. I kept telling him do good karma, do good karma, walk with Shiva." 

 I told her I felt if she could find a way to talk with him that it could help. That if she could share her broken heart with him, it might awaken his heart with love again towards her.  I urged her again that she needed to care for her own tender heart. Whatever happens care for her heart starting now. As her eyes teared up, I stood in front of her and opened my arms and wrapped them around her. I told her she was going to be ok, that above all else I knew that.

 Even though at that point I was in a altered state, and all of this was happening very quickly right there in the parking lot, I knew she was working and she couldn't totally break down in her heartbreak as she might have needed or wanted to. I have had that feeling while working. Holding it in, but wanting to scream. So I said again that I knew in my deepest heart she would be ok, and that I should go and she should know I will be praying for her. 

 She gathered herself and asked me to park my car really quick at a parking spot across from the pumps because she had something to show me. She wouldn't let me go yet, and I went with her request. I pulled forward and parked while she went back in the gas station and returned with a large gallon zip lock baggie. The contents of the plastic bag were what seemed to be around 6 or 7 separate folded stapled packs of well used papers. She took the worn papers out and opened one stack particularly to show me pages of Sanskrit mantra text and images of the Hindu Gods and Goddesses we had spoke of earlier next to the written mantras.  

 She said she chanted them from these pages all day long, that these were her prayers. She chanted for herself and her husband over and over. Time was feeling shorter, so she went quickly through each page sharing who each was and the lesson they offered. I did know almost all of her Gods and Goddesses, as she flipped through each page pointing and telling me excitedly who was who. There was Lakshmi, Saraswati, and Krishna. There was Durga, Shakti,Kali, Hanuman and Vishnu.  

 When we got to Ganesha, she asked if I knew his mantra as she pointed to the mantra in Sanskrit next to his image, and I said yes, I did know it by heart. And so, we spontaneously and appropriately chanted it softly out loud in unison together "Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha". She asked if I would chant to Ganesha for her in my prayers, and to Shiva too. My eyes began to fill with tears, and I said I absolutely would, and that I would also chant the Gayatri mantra which was my favorite because it was the most ancient of mantras which invoked the essence of divine light and omnipotent awakening. 

 We then heard her boss calling on her and we knew that was the end of those moments together. The boss suddenly appeared next to us, and so she quickly folded her texts and was putting them back in the bag while she nervously told him she was showing me something important and would be back inside in a minute. 

 Before she went back to her post behind the counter, I told her I had something for her and went into my car and grabbed the Lakshmi envelope with the prayer on it that I had held in my hands at the service juts an hour earlier. 

She said "No, no, you keep that for you, I have many Lakshmi's around my house!" 

 But I knew I had to and wanted to give her something to hold in her hand.  I grabbed my perfectly shaped heart rock I found at the Russian Gulch river bed in Jenner and which had been sitting in my cup holder. 

 I said, "You take this, and hold it close to your heart," and put it in her palm. It fit just right. I told her I would come back and check in on her when I was in town again. She liked that idea! We had a good hug and said goodbye to one another. Namaste was now actually happening without the word spoken. 

 After that I knew Sujitha and I were complete. What I also knew in my heart was that my prayers just a couple of hours earlier were being showed to me with and through her. I had asked to be of service and to share love, I asked for that connection in my own heart, which I felt I had with this stranger who also became my teacher and a soul connection for those 20 minutes or so. 

 But, what I realized most clearly as I drove away, was that no matter what religion, chants and prayers we do, what color we are, what accent we speak, or what Gods/Goddesses we have, we are all so completely and definitely the same in what we need at times. Someone to listen.....someone to SEE for us what we might not know how to see for ourselves in those moments. Someone to have faith in and to witness us in our vulnerability and honesty. To trust another with our hearts. 

 We are human first, yet I feel we are all Ganesha's and Shiva's and Lakshmi's embodied for a moment in time-space form when another asks us to hear their prayers from their at times complex and fragile life story. And if we allow it, we are also opened and humbled at this privilege of being trusted with another's heart, as I was with her.   

 I believe that those whom we call strangers that share themselves so deeply with us....they become our gurus/teacher in that moment when we need to learn something essential as well. This lesson is offered so we can share ourselves in compassionate, open-hearted support, and be the good stewards of our larger extended human family. As the reciprocity of that human to human vulnerable honesty continues, we continue to heal the separation between us. What I know above all else is that my Shaktipat did in fact happen that day with Sujitha The Conquer.....And it happened of all places at Valero. Namaste. 

365 days have passed. An 'opened' letter to my sister Rebecca

 Dearest Sister Rebecca,

 Ah yes, I remember this day just a year ago today. I remember it so very well. It's carved deeply into my soul and it will always be there each time the cycle of time and dates repeat. It was one of the most difficult days I have ever experienced in my life, and likely the most peaceful you had experienced after all of this life business! You did it so well, the living, the dying. And there's no way I don't miss you. But I'll share some of what I have been wanting to write to you over this time, because as we both know, writing is our sacred space with one another. As sisters. 

I was at moms the other day and I was walking down the hallway and all of a sudden I smelled you. It was totally unmistakable. It was like you were standing or walking next to me right there and I thought, "That's Beck!". It's one of those things I think we maybe don't notice so much when we are around someone, the specific scent of them. The one that is only theirs when they are walking the earth. And maybe when they pass, and when suddenly that scent returns out of 'nowhere', it is so visceral and real we cannot deny it. And then, like such things do, the memories of the connection you had with them become triggered and surface, which they did for me in moms hallway. 

In that moment, it was both comforting and a deep pang of missing you all at once. I was going to ask mom if she had something of yours in one of the rooms off the hall, but I decided not to so I could just stay with the mystery of it all. So, I just stood there in the frozen moment of my love for you. Surrounded by the scent of my sister,

It's not easy at times you not being here. I still fall into a dizzy haze of disorientation at all that we went through in 2015. I've wanted to call you 1,000 times and just talk it out and sort it out and cry it out with you, since you were there, and we were so fully in it together. All in. I don't quite know when that will all heal, or maybe it's not meant to totally, but I know it has taken it's sweet time and will continue to change in me as I can find space to let the truth that you're gone in a slice at a time.

I have faith that I will continue to find the joys among the dark. I know you would and do encourage me to continue to live.....and I am beginning to do so again in the ways that feel good and right and where my feet find steady ground. But please let me flash back, if just for a moment because I feel you here, and I know you are reading as I write and I still so want to share something of this remembering with you......

Remember you, me, Alexander, mom. Kat, Joel, Kevin. Dolan,, Annie, David, Cheri and all the other family and friends in the surrounding circle that walked with us and held us all so close? Remember the fucking insane immediacy of trying to hold on so close and navigate at the same time through the most turbulent of waters? Remember that first night at the Kabuki when we finally got Alexander to CMPC? 

 You the most stunning, strong, courageous mother. I know you kept your boy alive with your pure momma love, and I think also along with those bright colored Popsicles we fed him hour by hour. Remember that same night you drew that hotter than hot bath you took at 1am in the deep Japanese tub with your bath salts and the scrubbing cloth you brought with you knowing you'd need it? I remember the steam falling out into the room and fogging the sliding doors on our 12th floor room. I was watching some blaring TV show that filled my mind with the much needed numbness. We stood on the balcony, looking out to the Japantown square, the SF night buzzing and you and I in silence. 

Even these long 365 days later, those memories still surface first, soon after the memory of the actual day you left. It's like the time-line and the memories still start with the end and then go backwards from that, and then maybe at some point begins to drift into the times before that year. It's a strange sensation to keep going over the recent past, and not being able to enter into the past-past which is where the perhaps "happier" times might live. 

 Please know, I am so totally grateful that I was able to be there within that time, and I don't regret one moment spent. It was real, raw, pure life.... and life at it's depth. Happy times or not, what I do know now is that there was more love happening in all that than any I have ever experienced before or since. I will always remember. The love remains. Our love is alive and living. 

And then I roll back into my childhood with you. You washing my hair on a Saturday morning, in the kitchen sink, when I was six years old, on Sea Wolf Drive in Santa Rosa. You were probably made you do it as a Saturday morning chore, but it was our time, big sister to little sister, and I think we both knew our true connection. I realize now how you always took care of me, and I felt your love among the larger teen aged challenges you had within the family being the oldest sibling. You playing The Beatles loud from your teen aged room. It was 1976. I only wished we had been closer in age and shared more music together. But I still love the St, Pepper album which I attribute to your influence! 

Flash forward 1982. You're now living in Japan and you've essentially escaped the confines of the family. It was well timed for you. You needed your freedom. I 10 or so, receiving letters from you from across the sea with small origami folded in the middle of the fine Japanese paper and tiny animal stickers on the envelope. You knew how to reach me. I loved you telling me of your time there, and I imagined you living a life of adventures and freedom. You loved that culture, and I imagined you fit in so well with your gentle ways and your attention to details. And you also told me you "danced" there. As I child I did not know what kind of dancing you did, but as I learned later you seemed to have swooned the US and Japanese sailors with your fluid moves and likely made more money than you would have here! 

1987. You're 28 now, I'm 16. You returned from Japan and moved into dads apartment and you had come home pregnant with Alexander. You met his father Alan in the Philippines and fell in love. He was a musician, you met him in a club, and you were head over heals. Alan was an island man and he was beautiful. But he stayed behind on his island and your son met him only once as a infant when you returned to visit. You asked me to be your birth coach and even though I smoked a lot of weed and I liked to party with my friends, you trusted me as his auntie, and we did the birthing classes together. I took it very seriously. So when the word came on that afternoon that you were in labor and I had to leave school to come help you breathe, Alexander arrived quickly after I got to the hospital on the late afternoon of Nov 7th, 1988. 

That I know was your happiest day, and the most amazingly beautiful thing I have ever witnessed. The boy. I remember spending weekends at dads with Kevin, Kat and Joel all helping take care of him. I loved taking care of him, and all the time we spent just hanging with the wee one. At some point you got back on your feet and were ready and moved out of the apartment, but I know that time was a true moment of family togetherness and Alexander being the light in our lives. 

1999. It was pouring with rain one night and I remember calling you and asking you if I could come and stay with you and Alexander. I had broken up with my girlfriend and I was a total wreck. You without a blink drove out to Sebastopol and picked me up no questions asked. You helped me breathe during that time until I could get back on my feet. I will always remember that generosity and your love for me.

2015. Late September. We sat outside in the courtyard under the redwoods at Memorial Hospital, Alexander was up in his bed on the 5th floor, and we took a break and went outside for a heart to heart. You told me you were "ready" to go. Ready to die. Ready to leave the Earth. You shared your dream you had a few nights before, and I listened. It was of you, out in space, floating, looking back at the Earth. You had dads navy sword in your hand. I asked you what you thought that dream message was about, and you said that you didn't feel scared floating out there, and that dads sword was your protection. I asked you if you were going to miss the Earth, and you said yes, the beauty of it, and the people you loved, but not so much of the bad things that were happening on and with the planet. I asked you if you would promise to send me messages from wherever you were after you left, and you said yes, you would. I said I was going to miss you so much, We started crying with one another. We held one another for awhile, just the beginning of saying goodbye. And you have sent the promised messages...and I will continue to look for and notice them.

 ........And suddenly like that first memory in the hallway, I have just returned to this day this hour a year ago. It's 4:55 as I write this and you left your body for good at 5:13 Dec 30th, 2015. I had just left the house where you were taking your last long breaths. I put my hand to your heart and told you I loved you forever. Joel arrived, Dolan was pacing the room. I left at 4:15 and went to the movies with Annie. We sat down with our popcorn and I got the call right as the movie started that you had just passed. I remember the shock that hit me, (it never doesn't hit like a thousand waves at once), and then that release that flooded through my body knowing you were finally free. It was not an escape this time though. It was simply your time to breathe again. 

 I sit here with these memories all fully surfaced now and feel more of them awakening. It's good, and I am grateful that they have because I was not so sure where they have been hiding. You, my sister, have brought them alive again in me today, a day I will always remember too. I know you have walked with me through them again as well. Such a full and wondrous life huh? One moment after the other with the connections we make with one another being what remains most alive within us. We shall continue. 

Wherever you are Beck, I know you know we will meet again beloved sister......When it's my time to join you. But until then, I will keep hearing your whisper in my ear "It's ok baby girl.....it's all ok."

With Eternal Love.

Your little sister Molly

We have all come to pass......

I'm moved to speak about death, grief, and the grieving process. I wanted to speak to it because as some know, our Western culture still overall considers this very real and present topic of collective human experience, as taboo. 

In my mind and heart, I find this cultural taboo quite unfortunate to deal within because I am not the type of person to pretend I am not affected, nor one to attempt to shut my feelings off for the accommodation of others. I mean how could we not be affected by death? How can some pretend one of the hugest things that happens in their lives almost not be noticed or somehow not be allowed a voice? I don't buy it. 

Key word: Pretend, a.k.a Denial.

But what I do know in my studies and personal experience with death and the grief path, is that until we can truly give full permission and be not only with our own grief but those of others as well, we will in fact be continually stunting and feel a missing of a whole huge and beautiful aspect of our own soul, as well as an authentic, vulnerable, real connection with others. That's no fun at all now is it??

So let's break this down some more, and in doing so, let's also just tell the truth shall we? 

First off, generally people don't want to think or talk about death, nor do most people want to feel anything that reminds them of their own mortality. I totally get that....it can be freaky, weird, trippy, and scary to ponder, because it is one of the absolute unknowns and that, in and of itself, puts most people right over the edge. Welcome to being totally out of control! But, in my opinion, we are in fact meant to grapple with this very "out of control-ness" during our existence here as human in physical forms so we can learn to surrender. And should we learn that surrendering good and well, the very last and final surrender, which is death of our bodies themselves, might be a more familiar and natural experience. 

Truth: Death will and does happen. It just does. So what are we going to do with that information? 

And in that questioning, it's unfortunate that the thing that often times is the most confusing and mystifying and unknown in us, for most it cannot be something that we can allow ourselves even a daily or monthly space to reckon with. My feeling is that we need to do this so as to begin to understand who and why we are. Just give this temporal knowing a solid space to be heard, even if it's painful and frightening. 

And besides that, it's unfortunate when we simply assume and hope that there will automatically be receptivity from, and refuge with others to embrace us in our grief and suddenly find that is not always true and at times is just not going to happen. We can feel so lonely in our grief at times, even around the closest people to us. Some say it is a path we walk alone, which in some ways it is, but we need also to reckon with the fact that yes, it likely makes others whom are not directly dealing with grieving a death 'uncomfortable' to have to even look at or open themselves to feel the above noted facts. As a culture we are "scared to death" to acknowledge death. 

Note: We need to give ourselves and others this honest space of refuge and embrace. 

A small story example: I don't know if you experienced this in your family as a child, but I recall at age 10 or 11 a close family friend passed away and I wasn't directly told by my parents or any adult for that matter. It was a feeling of a deep off limits secret that was floating around, and there was just a heavy sorrow around the 'adults' that had no vocal explanation to it. Then I realized when we visited, that she was never there again. But she had been there all my life until then, and I loved her and missed her, so I was perplexed. In my child's mind/heart she literally disappeared forever. Poof! Confusing to say the least, And what was I to do with that sadness and confusion if there was no space and it was off limits to voice it?

For a child, that secret feeling shit floating around is viscerally obvious. But no one would just say she died, and that no one really knows where she went, but she wasn't coming back. If that had just been spoken then maybe we could have asked our innocent child questions, and maybe we would all have a good missing cry for her, and hopefully from that bond of collective loss we could have moved on together. That would have been honest and real, which is most children's set-point,

And in retrospect the adults were the ones that couldn't deal with the loss and grief, and the kids then had to linger in the confusion of unspoken sorrow. There is no fault in that, as adults are just as confused about it all, but there might have been a better way. The way of truth telling even if we as larger children don't know the answers. Because we don't know the answers. But we can comfort our children because loss and grief is universal no matter what age you are,

Note: We need to talk about death with children as it arrives even if it frightens us. We, as "big people", have to hold the line of truth for them. 

Then there's just the question of what is ok to feel and not ok to feel in our culture/society. Why in all of gods green earth would we be given tears if we weren't supposed to use them well? I am not encouraging a long life of being stuck in sadness and grief, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that shedding the tears only helps us to feel more of the love. The love of the one we are grieving. The love of our own self and the compassion for the tender fragility of our own hearts. The love of this life that we all know deep within is a simple "hello, and then a gentle goodbye." 
Note: We will have to say goodbye no matter what.

I say let's come together and speak to it all. I say let's stop attempting to convince ourselves we are alone in our grief. I say if we know someone is grieving that we reach out......and then reach out again...... like it is not only their grief, but our own as well and the reaching towards is a bridge that heals the loneliness that comes with loss. Let's continue to learn from other cultures that honor this process and are more willing to admit that we are truly here for a moment and we love others deeply for that moment, and when we have to let go of another because they have died, that we are surrounded in a full circle of acknowledgement and support. 

Truth be told, we are meant to grieve together. We are already silently doing so. We are connected so closely and we are meant to witness one another in this so as to create a common connective balm. We are meant to go directly towards a broken heart, as uncomfortable it might be, because it is our heart as well, And we are meant to bring our courage, vulnerability, and presence, even if we "don't know what to say." Most times words are not what is needed, it's more about the allowing that voice of the grieving one to share with us their words......or more importantly their tears of sacred love. 

Note: We are all in this mystery  together. We have all come to pass. 

Let The Games Begin

Yes, I continue searching out the answers and/or revelations to the mystery of this reality. This story proves again to be the sort of ongoing evidence to what I perceive as a 'piece' of the fascinating discoveries one can find if one is seeking with eyes open for the mystery to reveal itself (or at least have them 1/2 to 3/4 of the way open, because I admit, I do like baby eye opening steps when it comes to cracking any mystery.)  

I do have some guidance though, as I'm doing two separate 30 day experiment based games. I am using two books by the same author, Pam Grout to give me context and structure to follow. Trust me when I say it's good for me to have some mind organization when it comes to experimentation within the mysterious. One book is "Thank and Grow Rich" and the other is "E2 ( or E-Squared)- Nine DIY Energy Experiments to Prove Your Thoughts Create Your Reality." Both are creatively written and she is totally down to earth, and has a very cool sense of humor, which is awesome when dealing with the woo-woo kind of world. Although I don't think she considers these books woo-woo as much as practical workbooks to the current scientific factoids in the realms of the almighty science of quantum physics. I simply cannot wait until any science admits the missing link all along has been an all intelligent consciousness and our active existence, participation, and awakening conscious use of it. .

Because I choose to believe in the missing link they are searching for, I align with what Pam speaks to, flows in, and has personal experience with as well. Both books in their own cool way basically involve intentional interaction with the great and powerful Universe/quantum field/the G word, or whatever you choose to call it. The point of the games/experiments are to find definite and obvious results by consciously playing the game! Grok?

Yesterday my mission was to find examples of synchronization and obvious connections in experience or things. In other words it was a shout out to be presented with such insight. Now as you can imagine, that kept my mind and heart in full enjoyable engagement all day, and I found I needed a lot of hydration. This is because when you're presented with such an adventure-activity of looking for the connections, it can take some serious focus of energy. But once you get yourself going, things just start popping up and you start to get all surprised and thrilled you're perceiving in this way. Well at least I get thrilled, which is sucha great word any which way you use it! 

This is where the photo comes in: 

Early in the day I was strolling along on one of my favorite paths. As I was pondering about the games of the day, I began intentionally opening myself to that kind of "seeing", which is both sort of subtly receptive yet determinedly focused. I recall thinking something like this, "I wonder how everything actually fits beautifully together? I wonder if I will have the privilege of seeing the deeper connection in each of the symbols that clearly cross my path today?" 

Also my personal rules I made up for this first day were:

• Rule #1: Have a good solid sense of curiosity. 
• Rule #2: Don't "try" too hard, just let the symbols present themselves. 

So I felt I was starting off fairly well and on the right track with the questions I was presenting. And as soon as those thoughts passed through my mind, I look down and there they were, the first symbols had instantaneously arrived: My very own two puzzle pieces! (Btw, in case you were wondering they don't fit together cuz I instantly tried that.) I'll have to say, I thought this was a very creative, humorous, and solid first symbol to land upon. After all, you gotta have a couple of the pieces in hand to get the whole life puzzle thing rollin' into motion anyway. Didn't it take seven days and 2.6 billion puzzle pieces for the world to be created in the biblical creation story? And as I see it, with these games being a fresh view and a feeling of a clean slate for me, I'm only getting started making the pieces fit just right in some seeming whole succinct big picture life way. I'll enjoy what I know will be a wildly fascinating ride.

The rest of the day unfolded in similar surprising pieces. This symbol, and then that brief 'take me off guard' experience, just presented themselves what seemed like in back to back sequence, and with that little neon light around them saying "Hello! I'm a part of the symbolic, synchronized story being told to you today!" And then I had to put it all together at the end of the day. I won't get too detailed on all the pieces, as it's somewhat personal to me. But I can tell you without a doubt, they did line up and share with me some amazing insights and confirming realization that again there is such orchestration in the seeming chaos. And it most certainly depends on how you intend to experience your day. And if not anything else, it simply reminds me that IT is sooooooooooo much vaster, intelligent, mysteriously awesome than the small mind we often perceive from, and IT is ever so willing to play in the most miraculous ways with us. But what it comes down to is that we have to be open and wanting to see and experience the mystery. Not for the "answers" per say, but for the SURPRISE! It's well worth playing the game. And guess what?.... Everyone wins.