Clouds and Taxes

16 04 2013

I’ve been in that birdcage place in my mind for the last few days. On a rational level, I could claim that it’s any of the laundry list of influences- hormones, vomiting children, procrastination on spring cleaning and taxes, inability of seeing forests for the dicotyledons… but more than anything I have this enigmatic itch to jump out of my skin, I feel restless, I feel an adventure in the making… but where is the source of this feeling? I laid on the girls bed today while the kids were playing and/or reading… I listened to some classical music while I stared out the window at the clouds. I was giving myself a secret meditation time while the kids were on self sustained mode for the moment. I looked at the conglomerate of clean laundry to fold and walked right past, plopped down on the futon and released all the spent air that had been churning in and out of my spirit during the day that I had stamped as overwhelming even before it unfolded. We live in an old Mason’s lodge built in 1923, and the girls room is a golden cream color with huge cathedral like windows. We are well above the tree line, so lying down on their bed and looking out the window gives you the sensation of floating along with the clouds. The clouds today were real clouds, the sort of clouds I watched the wings of planes crossing oceans slice into… the sort of clouds that entertained me throughout most of my childhood. I was a quiet child, I preferred the freedom of playing by myself over playing with friends most of the time, because it gave me the undisturbed peace of staring at clouds for hours, or lying in the clover watching the world of insects move in their chessboard trajectory. When I was about Sylvia’s age, we started moving. I suppose it threw off some of my familiarity with the world I knew, but I eventually began to lose my bond with the girl who stares at clouds. I never much liked talking, it always seemed like a silly practice. I mean, there were certainly people and circumstances that allowed me to feel safe in talking about anything and everything, but for the most part, I avoided it and learned to speak in the silent language of Nature. Staring at those clouds today gave me this surreal out of body like feeling. Nostalgia, yet experience anew. My senses are tuning into old sights, scents and sounds and something is being reformatted. I used a pink cherry scented highlighter today while filing my taxes, and it smelled just like my Grandfather’s pipe tobacco. Is this sense of urging my higher self steering me into the creative process? Is this new emergence of old data part of growing up, or is it more ancient and sacred? Is this what a soul’s calling feels like? The fragmented song that you only ever catch a part of, that fades before you can hear it’s entirety… the tweaking of rabbit ears to clear the static. Something profound is afoot.

Elfriede Stegemeyer girl in clouds





spontaneous, premature solar revolution ritual

30 03 2013

Today, while randomly scrolling through my facebook I noticed that the local tattoo parlor was having a $30 2″ x 2″ black and gray custom tattoo special. I decided this was a good idea, and just as I walked out the door to take the kids to the playground, I called back to Todd that I was thinking of doing this. I thought about it more and more while the kids played. I knew instantly what I was going to choose- the bunny as a bird from the Runaway Bunny, who is resting on a branch from the tree the mother turns into. The mother who will “be a tree that you fly home to”

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I have been pondering this tattoo idea since long before Madelyn, Perry or Alden were born. From the moment I opened that page while reading it to baby Sylvia 10 years ago, I knew it was going to be my tattoo one day. I walked back with the kids to have lunch and get settled, and decided that this was a perfectly rational thing for me to do today, so I told Todd I was going to do it, made sure he was cool with me running out, and headed over. The tattoo shop was interesting, and like most tattoo shops, there were a bunch of guys hanging out watching a movie, watching youtube, listening to music, ordering food and having a smoke break. There were pictures of people making faces while getting tattooed on the walls, which was a minor amusement as I waited for the artist to be ready. This is my sixth tattoo, but my first work in three years (my last was my steampunk menagerie moth for my twenty ninth birthday). As he began the outline I started reading the portion of my anthropology text “Rituals and Beliefs” compiled by David Hicks about the need for ritual. The article in particular that I was reading was debating whether Durkheim was being too narrow in his concept about the construction of ritual, and proposes that rite precedes belief. I closed the book and enjoyed the tattooing, and reflected on how important, as a rite, and how very sacred each one of my tattoo experiences have been. Before I left the house, I was trying to explain the concept of getting tattooed, why it is important to me on a personal and spiritual level, and I decided that I would blog about it. In fact, I think I will continue this, as I could write a great volume about this concept and tonight is the night I have an ice cream and West Side Story date with Sylvia. For tonight, I will conclude with this- there is truly no experience like getting a tattoo. It is a beautiful, pleasurable and yet painful sensation that takes your mind out of your body and transforms your body into something new, it is the alchemy of the flesh- it is the art and magick of creation, concept made into material through ritual, through impermanent cellular sacrifice. More later, here’s the final work (pictures from cell phone, apologies for substandard quality) from my twitter:

and

More, tomorrow…





coffee blues and supermarket voyeurism

25 03 2013

I hate Mondays. I mean, I know we’re programmed to hate Mondays, but when I am doing a coffee cleanse, I really despise the beginning of the work/school week. I have been imagining a fresh, hot cup of freshly ground french press dark roast (with agave nectar and goat milk) all day long. As most of the world, I equate my energy level to the amount of caffeine surging through my veins, and without it I feel exhausted. I’m trying to push through it, make myself drink some water… I look to my juicer for inspiration, only to run in horror at the thought of having to clean it afterwards. Mondays are the days I NEED my coffee. This particular Monday involved a dentist appointment for Madelyn, followed by standing for an hour straight outside the tax booth at the local supermarket waiting for a turn. It was a rather interesting experience, as standing against walls at supermarkets tend to be. I stood in front of an elderly cashier who had to be 90 years old, at the very least. I watched as she carefully scanned all the groceries, and made small talk with the customers. What amazed me the most about this was that she did not stop smiling, not even once! Considering what a fast paced society we’ve come to live in, I expected to see a disgruntled customer come into her line at some point. However, during the hour of this exchange every single person left with a smile as well! It was a wonderful experience, watching this little microcosm happening right before me. I spotted a cashier with a genuine beehive hair style (complete with a silk flower tucked in the back) and made eye contact as well as smiled at nearly every passing person. It was finally time for me to sit with the tax lady, and as I sat another lady who had not been waiting came to the seat. Before I had a chance to say anything, she offered her seat to me, and I sat to be greeted with a cheerful presence by the lady who was working by herself and had just finished up with an hour long tax preparation. I was relieved to be met with grace in a situation that on any other Monday would have been really challenging my zen. I glanced over on the wall to find the quote of the day, from Nietzsche:

“The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.”

― Friedrich Nietzsche

It’s rather remarkable how many little things await our discovery in this universe. So often we overlook the signs, only to get lost in the general collective mass projected emoticons. So grumpy without coffee or not, we have to breathe, and open our eyes.

Blessing of Monday to all!

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(that’s Mississippi John Hurt, by the way. Coffee Blues. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uL7jowIpykQ )





Joy, Happiness… Eudaimonia and Lola Daydream

10 09 2012

So after the unexpected and annoying death of the laptop (though, in hindsight, much appreciated cleanse of old self attached to a stupid machine)… I’m back with the power of a purple gateway pavilion g6! This lap top makes me want to write much more often, so here’s to continuing promises of new habits!

This past week, er two… has been fast paced and full of lots of lessons as well as joy. Joy is something that I am attempting to cultivate more of in every moment of my life. I find that when I stop, breathe and find the joy in each situation, I can go deeper in my awareness of the world around as well as within me. I had a few moments this week I wasn’t too proud of, I lost my awareness and allowed my subconscious little girl to carry a megaphone. I said things I didn’t mean, had a tantrum, and stepped outside of myself to see a map of each moment in my life when I began to think in the specific categorical ways that caused a loss of grace. In Unity recently, we’ve been talking about blessing each new thing that comes into our lives. I see these moments as gifts from the Universe for having a more complete view of the entire issue, and see the lesson as a whole. It’s a funny experience, seeing yourself on the outside and realizing how ludicrous it is to carry on with the expected role. I have bigger, more interesting roles to play.

Joy. What is it? How do we define it? Joy is synonymous with happiness, and yet happiness is full of endless definitions and also undefinable. I decided to play the Wikipedia game.From Joy to Happiness to Eudaimonia.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eudaimonia

The six-factor structure of eudaimonia in psychology are as follows (as conceptualized by C.D. Ryff):

  1. Autonomy
  2. Personal growth
  3. Self-acceptance
  4. Purpose in life
  5. Environmental mastery
  6. Positive relations with others

Eudaimonia also refers to a guardian spirit, as the etymology of the word means good spirit. I know that (through personal experience) the sensation of joy, happiness, etc is a very similar feeling to that of being in a higher state of consciousness. Perhaps eudaimonia is our higher self, and the emotional interpretation of the state of being is in the sensation of atonement? Perhaps the atonement (also, today in Unity we talked about atonement, and seeing the basic breakdown of the word: at-one-ment was a refreshing a-ha moment for me) is the elusive Holy Guardian Angel, the actualization of self. This subject, I shall seek further understanding later. For tonight, I will end with the realization that on October 5, my saturn return shall be over. I have less than a month to celebrate the most interesting three years of my life. My, what a ride it has been, I can’t wait to look back on how far I have traveled.

When I am awake, you see, I know that I am dreaming, so that they must be very silly children, don’t you think?

Liber XCV

The Wake World

THE WAKE WORLD
A TALE FOR BABES AND SUCKLINGS
(WITH EXPLANITORY NOTES IN HEBREW AND LATIN FOR THE USE
OF THE WISE AND PRUDENT

http://hermetic.com/crowley/libers/lib95.html





sudden and ubiquitous: joy

16 08 2012

“This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.”
― Rumi

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-Alex Grey, “Ocean of Bliss”

In the moment that I stop looking for the external to grant me validation for the love that I know is within every cell of my being, the unexpected moment of remembering, that it was there all along. I overlook, more often than I would like, the blissful joy that surrounds us all in every moment, awaiting discovery. While you are reading this, breathe in… feel the ionization of particles deep within you. Feel the power that you hold within yourself and know that you are full of beauty and grace and possibility stirring and spiraling; awaiting discovery. That is all… goodnight, many awe inspiring dreams to you all, you beautiful divine creatures.

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”
― Rumi





Off to Miami!

31 07 2012

Dragging my feet getting ready looking for veggie spots and juice bars, but getting on the road in 5!

Really excited, have never been to Miami, and I suppose I never figured I would go. Of course I have always been attracted to the Hemingway, Cuban, Haitian and Art Deco aspects, but I sort of wrote it off my potential Map when I was a kid and realized how far the tip of Florida is to get to. Had some lovely green juice this morning: https://twitter.com/i/#!/mamaheyoka/media/slideshow?url=pic.twitter.com%2FobxKrYcQ for energy on the road!

Have a beautiful week, lovelies! I will blog and twitter as I can from Miami!

Shine on, you crazy diamonds!





can’t sleep, thinking of the old (and of you)

31 07 2012

I miss my best friend. I wish I had the energy to write an eloquent sonnet for how much I miss her,  or to write a tale of our history together ending with that bitter, pointless ill worded falling out at the Indian buffet before we moved to Florida. I’ve just had the deep longing to smell her hair and see her mossy eyes, and to play dress up with her and be silly. I suppose my growing comes in waves, and in retrospect I lost a great deal of myself after the divorce, and after the restructuring of self began. I suppose in order to find yourself you do truly have to lose yourself first. Then again, was the self perceived to be lost ever actually found? Regardless, there was an innocence during the days of our most intimate moments together, and I think I had to experience that loss of the perceived innocence. I had to feel with empathy and without defenses what her emotions and her vantage point really felt like. It’s resonance is deep within the chasms of my being. I can only look around at the fractured pieces of my old life and understand that a new universe is before me, and with certainty I can walk forward, and take with me those hidden glittering, delicious faery magick particles that carry with them that spirit of innocence, of hope and of bliss. To the silly slavic faery lady with the eyes of sea moss, I love you. Thank you for all the magick you sang to me.