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you were born, and so you are free

Took a trip yesterday to Santa Barbara with Stacy and Shelley. Part of an attempt to stretch my birthday as long as possible. It started sunday night with our second annual Doga (Greg and Jeremy brought donuts to my yoga class) and will maybe continue into mid march when a friend comes back to the country and says he might make a trip to see me. Laying across the back seat of stacy's car; its a different car now---her lovely klenex box with wheels--remebering how I have always liked to be in Stacy's car; listening. Listening to misuc and to thinking and, this time, to the rain.

This is an area I have driven through more than visited. However, I feel very connected to the land and to its ancestory. I know that I have some Native American guides and I can even remember the moment when some of them joined me. Laying in shavasana at the end of a class at a retreat at a lake not far from here. The teacher had covered me with a blanket (a gesture which, by itself, changed my life). I was having that sort of inside crying that hurts worse than if you could just simply tear; but then I felt both my hands get touched then held. It was undeniable. I have been getting to know them better since then.
I fell asleep listening to the rain wash away this moon. Talking to my guides and thinking about Greg's story of hiking up a mountian feeling hundreds of Indian women rush past him; feeling their hair, their clothes, in the wind. But when I fell asleep, I dreamed of how I would hold his hand--the boy who says he might visit. That is, if he really did come to see me again. That is, if we ever went further than to fuck.
That lake where they joined me: it has become my default image. For when a teacher says "reach for something that inspires you" when it feels like all my good has left me in its wake as it moved on. B series: arching up with the lake above me on my chest. Or me suspended, arched, face-down looking in. The perfect mirror of above to below that the reflection of the moutians remember. They say that the lake is a vortex, bottomless, a portal to the Channel Islands. I floated in the middle and it held me; as spacious below as above.
This trip: we are going to see Lucinda William and George Jones. Maybe not my guides, but certianly an archetype of mine. One contained--when I was little--by the way the Muppet Babies would ride off into the sunset. One manifest in my attraction to Dr. Pepper and Moon Pies. But one with, at the heart, a belief in the sweetness of a chord change and in the sort of frail goodness of humanity that can only be eeked from a drinking song (followed by a song about cheating, followed by a song about Jesus).
I had a chain of e-mails last week with Vicky (her birthday is also soon) about how Pisces rock. It is interesting that, until recently, I haven't known very many Pisces at all (I used to figure that most just couldn't make it through--I guess I used to know mostly about the negative side of the sign) but this year, I've met about one for each day. I didn't know Vicky was a Pisces--though, if I think of it now, it would have been my first guess. In one of her e-mails she told a mini history through astrology, saying that she was pisces and wouldn't have it any other way, and that she once married a virgo--which turned out to be not a good thing--but then found Aquarius was the way to go. I woke up in the car thinking about this, laughing. Catching myself seeing this boy in my dream. He is an Aquarius that I borrow from a Virgo.
The last time we went to this lake, on the last day, we went on a hike. The sides of the trail were lined with dandelions. The kind you blow the seeds off and make a wish. Only these were giant, almost the size of a fist. I have always had a thing for wishing on dandelions; maybe something always made sense about asking, letting go, and then seeing your wish carried off in the wind. I will pull over if I'm driving and see one. A couple of weeks ago I jumped the railings by the picnic table where we were having class to grab one, pray on it, and then jump back, running to beat the teacher to the class room as the class walked inside. I must have wished hundreds of times on that hike.
Later on the hike, a lady bug flew by and I looked down at the stones we were stepping on to see that we were literaly in a sea of lady bugs. Wishes, and good luck, abundance; clandestine.
Yesterday at work, Leah seemed sad that she had worked through a yoga class that she usually takes. I told her that I know that feeling and that I try to remember that everything operates on the law of sacrafice. I used to not like this concept---I heard it with a mind full of lack. But if you see sacrafice from abundance, first its about the power of choices, and then its about everything lining up perfectly to give you things exactly as they are. It becomes about gratitude for what you have been given, not what was missed. And as I watch situations move and time go by, I realize how it can't be about what was missed, or what you wanted, or what could have been. Just what you have, with no hesitations, drawbacks or disclaimers.


i find it hard to be grateful for what i have and not feel like there is something i could have done differently... like it's my fault... i don't ever wish for stuff, it's like i have to make it happen or it won't because nothing i have ever wanted or felt like i needed has ever jsut come and sat on my lap... it's always the thing i think i don't want that comes to me... i can usually see later that that is what i really needed... (there's my lack of recieving for you)... it's funny that you see the goodness in drinking songs and i see that as the worst in people... songs about jesus, too... i have a problem being positive... but it is cool when those little things like blankets or hands or dandelions change everything... i feel like i constantly have ot relearn that... it's like tripping when you confront the same truths over and over and over and each time they surprise you with how they have chosen to reveal themselves...

Yes, I am commenting on my own blog now. About how I am a polar-spaz. Isn't it fun the way you can be super, and then one thing happens and you are crying. And then super again, and someone does something they don't even know they are doing. And then super again....
And right now, I'm wearing a mala on my wrist. Two weeks into 40 days. Not so it can look pretty dangling from my wrist when I give people the finger (namastemotherfuckers!) But because I want to choose to fix my mind on something long enough to actually see the power of my mind. (I mean, because I already know the power of my mind, and moreoftenthannot, watch that power sabotage me, and I don't even care why anymore) just some kind of biological stickiness---the way it takes 30 days to change a habit/reset the habitual mind, yet there is a habit of divergence, of the mind fluctuating far more often than that. By that I mean, I see how I get exactly what I want. so its just about changing the wanting--intention--and holding on to that in the face of everything, and keep stepping up the degree to which you won't compromise and don't forget.
And I've done well choosing, so far. but I caught myself today, "goddamnit, I try so hard and I'm still a fuckup" as though the trying and the fuckup are related---well they are, but that doesn't help. And then mad and jealous when I see people getting the things I want and further more getting them handed to them, in my veiw. Basically, I guess, forgetting to trust.
And I see the things that feed this shit, or that compensate for it. The ways I get proud--getting the KCRW puzzle and watching myself feel like hot shit. I mean, Come on! And then, trying to find the things to be glad to do from an authentic place. Like, its fun to read FurBurgers elements and get them right for the sake of maybe her benefit, but with the bonus of tripping her out; is that an abuse of power? Or is it okay so long as I don't feel like hot shit as thought there was something to be won or lost and a cookie to be had?
Neelu asked me about goals or resolutions (this quarter century past), soooo many are on my mind. But mostly its got to be about remembering what you are trying to create long enough to let it happen. Im seeing it almost like some kind of oracle, a test to pass, where the mind is the cage of the mind until you see that and get strong. Same issues, same self, but I ask and keep asking for the next evolution.
Trying not to let my want get in the way of my chances

"25 years of my life and still
I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope
for a destination.
I realized quickly when I know I should
that the whole world is made up of this brotherhood of man,
for whatever that means"

P.S. I am so freakin jealous right now. I must stop that.


there will be no STOP.

feel it, own it, live it.

break on thru'

it's yer birthday, you can scream if you want to.

and then?

i like it when you trip me out... so i don't think it's abuse of power i think it's sharing how awesome you are... who/what are you jealous of? you get so many cool things that i could only wish i had... so maybe everyone kind of deals with that grass is greener syndrome... also... i get these extremes of perky-pixie-smile all the f-ing time furburger followed by the fuck everything crying etc angela... and it makes me tired... i want to stop doing that, but then i think to myself, if i couldn't think, if we were just more stupid, happy, steady people, we would be way less interesting... i mean, isn't it that stereotypical artist archetype (bringing it back around to myerrfffs thing...) all the coolest people i can think of famous or not, generally tend to have a hard time with exactly what you are talking about... and while that may not make it easier, i think it is a testament to your intelligence... or something... i dunno... i'm dumb...

Yer not dumb.

I know you. You're the smartest person I know.

In the area of natural compassion you are right up there with the best this species has ever generated.

That is the kernel I see at the center of the current cycle and cyclone of rage.



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