the Divine Ms. L...

The horoscope predicts a strong dose of grounding energy that will bring me to balance. Earth. Certianly the image was of a fall from the nest. But just of the rage of the split and the push but not of the impact. . . its not like I didn't know it would come. It was a little yellow bird, like the one from the book. An archetype that follows me, "are you my mother?".
And the day that that book was in my head all day long, she heard a name for me. Always, I wait for my names, or for a moment that my name can sound true. And when she said it to me, Marisa poped in my head with a deja vu that I had had with her: us sitting in a diner, me, coloring a yellow bird. . . And then the thought: "don't give the cat your name". She had had my name before and had batted it around. I do remember, with each fall,
the ground is hard and cold, but I get up.
I am thinking of the things I am being asked to do. How sometimes I don't feel strong enough to do them, but need to. I am also thinking of the magic that comes in unexpected ways when I do the work in front of me.
By the end of Sunday, I was hurting. I was aware of a static in my mind all day, that I had been moving through some intense stuff, engaging with people deeper than usual, but knowing only how much I did not know what was going on. A circle of 3 year olds held sacred space as I talked to a little boy to find a way for him to uncurl himself from a ball. They were so engaged, they gave so much safety. It was one of the most powerful circles I've been in (and I've been in a lot of cirles). And then we all played.
Correction: really, its not what I do, but what I get to be a part of. But I wonder, always, am I doing the right things to find my way to what I really can have to offer.
Mondays, I give a massage to an old lady who is in a lot of pain and has trouble breathing and sleeping. It is when her breath starts to deepen that I remember that I am not a fuck-up. and then, when she falls asleep, I sometimes cry.

"need to do" is this dharma or bhakti. . . I don't think that there is a difference. Maybe only in how we think.

Early in the Summer, I was thinking about initiations. How we can sometimes use fake ones to protect ourselves from the real ones. How we can sometimes protect ourselves from learning in the world by going to a training, create a ritual rather than engaging directly. I had seen how practice had become avoidance and how I could put on a monk robe over many wounds.

This Summer, I have parted with two teachers. My bhaktidharma: I don't want people to be alone, I don't want them to suffer. In doing this, I often feel alone. I step back into the fire, I take off the robe and stand naked as long as I can. For a minute, I let my heart bleed in front of you.
Sometimes, my body resists this, it contracts, it closes in, it makes my flesh a hard encasement.

Hanuman, open, strong and playful. Rescuer of our divine. Rescuer of divine through retreival of the feminine divine. Hold your water, memeber the moon, run through the fire.

So. I am not strong enough. I could never be strong enough. Maybe that is the difference.