Really, it all comes down to resistance.  I have long since unravelled my particular brand of “fear” to in fact be laziness.  I’m not afraid of anything.  I just don’t always want to do the work.  It’s a rather anti-climatic realization – death, demons, and violent nightmares have nothing on the lack of motivation.  For this aya cycle, I had signed up for four ceremonies, but also had intended to act as a Guardian.  Guardians are of service to anyone in the circle that needs assistance – to walk to the bathroom, clean their purge buckets, talk through their ego deaths, or battle the most horrifying experience they have ever faced.  That kind of thing.  I so, so love being of service.  To the extent that it egoically allows me to hide – this I now understand.

As the moment of each ceremony drew near, I tried to get out of having to drink.  It’s fucking crazy to me – I have danced with aya SO much, she has changed me in infinite ways, ALL for the better, and yet I resist the process because, boohoo for me, it’s challenging.  Well, it’s more than challenging – it’s insanely hard.  But I know better – I have the benefit of understanding what’s on the other side.  I know the reward of this work.  And yet I put up a ridiculous fight.

There was a time I matched the innocence and drive of some of the newer folks I had the chance to Guard.  I remember when I used to trust the medicine beyond any doubt, when I would drink willingly and joyfully no matter what emotional state I found myself in.  These days, I find any excuse to bow out.  That’s a level of shame I would have to face.

What was beautiful about my resistance was its transparency and weakness.  For three out of the four ceremonies, I caved when the shaman offered me “just a little bit.”  It only took one small suggestion and I was at his alter bowing for the experience, even though I know “Just a little bit” for me equals a full-on, balls-out alter state.  Curses to my sensitivy (and glory be as well.).  So my resistance doesn’t really have teeth – I only wished it would just let me be.  I took that energy with me into the ceremonies, and the result was a horribly painful journey.

Each ceremony found me being a vessel for intense, deeply traumatic, resistance-filled emotions.  No major visions or revelations.  None of the playful, cosmic energies I had been accustomed to in previous ceremonies.  And certainly none of the enlightening, out of body, void-laden no-self spaces.  Instead, I was simply in my shit.  I WAS my shit.  A physical manifestation of all the doubt, fear, negativity and lies that I have ever known or carried.  Aya just asked me to be a container – to HANDLE it.  I hardly purged it all, despite my deep desire to release.  I found myself, again and again, just wanting the ordeal to be over – to shift into a happy space.  My God did I want that happy space.  And all she said was “Patience.  Love what is.”

In about 15 total hours of ceremony time during this cycle, I achieved maybe 30 minutes of bliss.  I say achieved, because in many ways it was clear I was choosing to be in pain.  I was setting myself up for another breakthrough.  Part of me knew that and felt epic gratitude, part of me wanted to tell the breakthrough to fuck off.  The usual dance.

Aya, bless her heart, she just pulled me close, held my face to the fire, and kept telling me “You can do this.  You ARE doing this.”  And so I sat – sometimes eerily still – while an entire lifetime of pain, drama, resistance, fear, anger, hatred – you name it – surged through me.  At times I fidgeted wildly, but that only made things worse.  When I found stillness, every now and again, I could feel myself smiling somewhere high inside.  I could feel the observer that was a-0k – loving every minute.

And that was truly the message she kept whispering to me – “Love this too.  When you can fall in love with hell, the whole world becomes heaven.”  OK then teacher, I will learn.

It’s unusual that all ceremonies in a cycle have fairly much the identical feel and message, at least for me.  But this is a big one, so repetition was needed.  Since I went into every night with some level of “I do not want this”, I got exactly what I didn’t want to create.  That which we resist persists.  And yet even in every moment, I could easily admit to the perfection.  Yes, mother.  GIVE ME MORE.

A month later, I am not dancing in bliss, but instead am comfortably rooted in Yes.  The process has integrated well, and I am so grateful, so in love with her all the more, for these latest lessons.  Miracles are starting to appear.  The most precious one – I have started WRITING again.  Not just this blog, but a NOVEL.  One that I thought would be indefinitely tabled.  I went in to start expanding on one of my many novels-in-progress, expecting in to be the one about our spiritual community, and instead I gravitated to the one I started writing about my ayahuasca experiences.  Not surprising, clearly.  She is so sacred to me.  I must find more ways to share her with the world – and words, they are my gift.  The book is called, at least for now, “The Secrets of the Universe.”  Aya has told them to me, see.  I am so overjoyed to share.

I love the imperfection of this perfect state.  I am so blessed to be, to stay conscious through the most intense moments of transformation, to be gifted the chance to step out of the zombie mentality and awaken to what is.  It makes me feel such love for all of humanity.  We are all playing the same game – pulling ourselves out of our chosen miseries, only to discover they were only there to point us to who we are.  Which is God, of course.  Beautiful, loving, heart-spaced, enlightened beings.  All of us – no one is left out, because there really is no separation.

Ayahuasca, I just cannot find the correct way to thank you.  You are my mother, best friend, spiritual master, and dominatrix.  You always, always give me what I need – no matter how much I resist.  And it matters not the intensity with which you deliver the message – I always know it shows me how much you love me, how much I love me, and you.  I only hope that next time – and that will be sooner rather than later – I can come to you with more trust in my heart.  With more surrender and willingness.  And if it needs to be the same journey, I still say YES.  I love us all too much to chicken out now.

Sitting down to write these words, my heart is in explosion-mode — my God have I missed this space.   There’s no where else I have had the courage to be balls-out honest, in every way – and really, as I have learned so well, that is one of many keys to this spiritual ascension we are all so hip to.  Evidence that perhaps the ego has had her lazy way by hiding.  But at least I’m here to spill.

Hi.  I have missed you.  I have missed this opportunity to surrender.  There has been no lack of effort and intent on this end to unravel, and the results have been insanely successful.  Rather than a play by play of circumstances, I will just tell you the Truth.

There is a space outside the mind so vast, so infinitely beautiful, it terrifies many of us to get there.  “I” was blessed to slip through the eye of the needle in November, during an insanely amazing Ayahuasca journey.  In a nutshell, it went like this:

- Girl spends five years climbing the spiritual mountain, taking any manner of sacred substance to exit stage left, studying with a myriad enlightened teachers, marrying a spiritual powerhouse and perfect mirror, and engaging in brutally honest self-inquiry.

- Girl takes part in ump-teenth ayahuasca ceremonies in November – three in a row.

- The first is a marvelous re-introduction — an opportunity to unravel the mystery of fear, and the realization that fear is the opposite side of the same coin that empowerment lives on.  Girl chooses empowerment, and transcends fear of the unknown.

- Girl has a hilarious night 2, thinking in fact that she won’t even drink aya that night, that instead she will just be of service to those who are Going Big.  The shaman instead pours a 3x the usual dosage and tells her to “trust.”  What the hell.  In she goes.  And it is AWESOME.  Heinously powerful.  Yet the shift she had been dreaming of occurs – the ability to be in multiple spaces of consciousness at the sane time.  The ability to have the massive personal experience, and be very, very present in the room.  Hands are held, heads are caressed, tears are shed with others – all while the internal revelations are revealed.  Absolutely epic.  A true shamanic step UP.

- Girl then resolves to go very, very big on the final night.  The only intent is to surrender – seriously this time, with no fingers crossed behind the proverbial back.  No expectations of reward either.  Just this desperate, sincere request to the medicine that She help girl just Let Go, at long last.  Girl does just that.  So much so that she dissipates – goes into the ethers of the Void, and does so with complete awareness.  No more I.  No more anything other than Everything.  It lasts twenty minutes or so.  Then “she” comes back.

- Girl takes a while to figure out what the hell just happened.  Then it starts integrating, revealing its mysteries.  Girl can’t really describe what the new state of consciousness is – the same, but vastly different.  Personality has returned.  Animation has returned.  As has the awareness that this is a magnificent, profound dream – created by the Source, which is anything but personal.  And officially, and always for every more, All Is Full Of Love.

So where does that leave “me”?  The exact same place I was before – but this time, with a heart-spaced knowing.  I look at the world of people now and see masks that attempt to cover the Oneness, yet they are all so transparent.  I don’t see the egoic “me” everywhere, but I do know the essence of ALL is US – separation is an absolute joke.  Finally, the awareness of my celluar being has caught up with the wisdom my heart always knew.  I wish I could dole this out like mashers at a shelter.  I wish all egos would drop for just an instant, so all apparently separate beings would know who the unified WE really is.  Oh my goodness ya’ll, it is BEAUTIFUL.

My own work has just begin.  Knowing is not an end game, not so long as my spirit takes a body.  There is a newfound urgency around life, along with an awareness of the lack of meaning – at least in the way I used to hold it.  Yet there is strong awareness that the part of this consciousness that thinks itself real will always do so, and gets to be honored in this space.  It is play time, in the highest sense.  Time to be love, in every way possible.  And that is an infinite learnign process.  Good thing, or I would fear getting bored!

And so I can’t help but ponder as 2012 has now tackled hugged us all – how will this story continue?  I foresee a billion and one awakenings, the majority shifting into oneness consciousness.  And with that, a helluva lot of destruction and chaos.  That’s the rub of duality – it’s the structure by which our balance depends on.  You know the old saying – Take the good with the bad.  Well, I would add to that – see the bad as good, too, and you’re literally in heaven.

As I lay in bed the night after the unraveling, an image appeared to me in my lucid state – a mirror appeared, and in it I saw my smiling face, with a beautiful red dot in the center of my third eye.  That red dot represented Enlightenment.  It was always there, not under, but above my nose – waiting to be rediscovered.  As it is for us all.  There is nothing to seek, nothing to wish for, nothing to find – just your true self waiting for you in every moment.  And while there is no formula by which this is revealed in all it’s glory, just know it is possible, for all beings.  This seems to be the year for us to realize that, too.  Why not, ya know?  God placed this burning desire to Know Ourselves in each and every unified heart – seems silly to postpone the inevitable

Happy New Year.  What an unspeakable joy to ascend with you.

Three days shy of the 36th birthday, and I’m finally logging thoughts in here – first time this year.  Laziness?  Desire to hide?  LIfe just taking over?

Yes.

Also, an overwhelming amount of truth to tell.  That old – where to begin? – stressor, which leads to complete abandonment.

And yet I’m back.  With a burning awareness that it’s time to bleed in here again, to expose and reveal and purge all over the bloody screen.  God, I really miss the written word.  I’ve avoided the power of a typed-up chaotic brain / heart dump for months now – years, when it comes to my full on fiction writing and poetry – and I know a great deal about why.  It’s not a new revelation, but one that’s unraveling before my observing one-self, so it bares noting these days.

What is it the Genie in Aladdin said?  All the powers in the whole wide universe, locked up in a teeeeeeeny living space?  Yes.  That’s the rub, isn’t it?  This being I share space with has complete awareness (complete?  That may be exaggerating – at least partial.) that she is omnipotent, in the truest sense.  That with any level of drive, focus, discipline and fire, anything/everything can and will change.  And yet the temptation to just keep it status quo, to fly under the radar and commit to the mundane, not the spectacular, has continued to win out.

I should qualify that with an “apparently.”  What has been real in these last five months is a full on dedication to integrity, and there’s nothing small about the truth.  And because the willingness has been so genuine, shit has hit the fan.  Spirit is just emerging from a 10 day jaunt into the untamed spaces – man has the world been a chasm of darkness lately.  I literally let myself rip in two.  On the surface, brought on by the death of two cats (two whom I attached to in the most devotedly human way) and a third that was extricated from a less than ideal home situation, and into something that we hope is more for the greater good.  And yet, I let it break my heart.  Ripped wide-fucking-open.  And as I fell and felt and swirled, Orion (husband) flew out into the expansive spaces, and, on many occasions, laughed at the sad little clown girl.  I don’t blame him, this isn’t a victim outlet speech.  Just an acknowledgement that I created, seemingly, a complete and total separation, and the opportunity to *feel* divided, to the core.  SUCH pain.  Not suffering, mind you, as I stayed unwaveringly present through the madness (at least that’s my perception), but yo damn, that is a convincingly dark space.  So dark I found myself smashing my head against a wall, wanting OUT goddammit.  Feeling the disease of the past and future focused mind just became unbearable.  Then, of course, at some point I surrendered, my spirit filled with helium, and the veil lifted once more.

Now, the giddiness is back – the eyes-wide-open awe and wonder.  A few major revelations have surfaced, but those don’t want to be shared just yet – there are potential actions involved with all, and nothing has emerged as “it’s time” or “the right course.”  In that “waiting is” stage, and it’s lovely.  But what IS true and very loud/proud — this god-being is really, really ready to go BIG.  What does that mean?  Engaging in the three intuitive paths that keep neon-flashing behind my mind’s eye.  I’m not confused about how to unlock the next layer of out-of-the-way empowerment.  They are: Taking better care of the body (workouts, food, tinctures, yoga), meditation (which takes care of the mind, or no-mind), and writing (what my spirit loves the most, but mind resists the most.)  Pretty simple.  On paper.  But there’s a sense that truly engaging in all three will send me into. . .well, as a dear friend put it recently, “We’re not starting a new chapter.  Honey, this is a new book.”  And whose ego doesn’t fear change?  Ahem.

But here I am, apparently turning 36, and emerging out of a transforming year of 7′s (35 is a multiple of 7, and as the theory goes, since we regenerate every cell of our physical selves every 7 years, we do the same for our spiritual.)  This body/mind no longer feels immortal, and the urgency is almost choking at times to just BE who I really am.  Not a small, shrouded, scared little version of said-god-self, but IT.  HER.  Unmasked.  Vulnerable.  True to her word (to all, but most especially myself.)  And pedal to the metal with all that has always intuitively said “Do This.”

Which is why I’m here.  In part to immortalize the intentions, and in part to actualize them, as writing (and exposing truth) is at the very core of this awakening, and this being.  The ego known as Kitty – she writes.  Always has.  One of the purest forms of how divine expression manifests through me.

So while this particular post is a tad indulgent and mememe, it’s also a tangible ember to ignite this fire again.  We are all god, pretending to be separate selves.  If we follow our heads alone, they may lead to magnificent relative successes, but usually with a sense of emptiness.  Following intuition can lead to an unpredictable, seemingly unsafe, wild unfolding adventure – but perhaps with a sense of oneness.  Of wholeness.  And if you’ve had that. . . no amount of material success can match it.  Freedom is the flavor that trumps all the rest.  And having written this, I’m one step closer.

Sages and meditators for the last bazillion years have spoken about the internal deep dive – the search for the self.  It’s a marvel that everyone I know that has taken this trip with earnest has the same results – they can’t find themselves.  This identity that seems to run the show 24/7, with personality traits and dreams and attachments and dislikes, et al – it doesn’t exist.  Not in the truest sense.  We get to experience the notion of a self so that we know we are alive – so that we can, one by one, wake up to the knowledge that we never existed.  And in that, that there is no separation.  That. Is. Fucking delightful.

That’s been stewing today as the notion of emotions has been swirling through me.  Where do these fascinating little good and bad flare-ups come from?  As I talked to Orion about this via Skype (he’s in Australia, flying a trip to Sydney), we landed on a key premise – that emotions and feelings are different animals.  I like this division very much.  Emotion, therefore, becomes elements of our thoughts.  I ran through the list of ‘em, and this resonated.  Jealousy is conjured up when my mind thinks someone I love is giving affections to someone else.  Anger appears when mind thinks she’s been wronged.  Sadness says hi when something I was attached to does not play out as I wish.  The list goes on.  Emotions, in this manner, are stories the mind creates, which the body reacts to.  They are anchored in the past (I can’t believe that happened.  I’m so angry at him for doing that) or the future (I’m so afraid he’ll leave me.  What if I fail at this again?).  Everything not occurring in the present moment is a creation of the mind.  Have you ever noticed how you’re mind is never actually present?  It’s a wild realization.

Feelings though – what the heck are they?  I consider feelings those spontaneous responses within the body and the spirit that happen moment to moment.  Love is the obvious go-to – it’s always there if I’m not writing a story of resistance around it.  Think about how it feels when you totally surrender to any given moment.  Sensations abound – and while fear may be lingering (I’m so afraid of this vulnerability omg what am I doing. . . .) when you let go, it’s just insanely liberating.  There’s an intense feeling of trust, of freedom, of bliss.  Even if it feels risky.  Feelings, therefore, are whatever is genuinely flowing through each moment you take a breath.  They are the sensations in the body, which are expressing What Is inside those bones and tissues.  They are communications that simply tell you what is really transpiring in your duality.

So what of this self then, this being that appears to experience all of this?  It’s the part I love the most – the fact that the one thing many of us (especially Americans) cling to the most is not in the least bit real.  We live in a world where individuality is coveted and prized, where people wear their identities like badges.  ”I am this and I am that and I always do this and I never do that!”  We talk about finding ourselves as if we really know what that means.  If we did, we would realize it’s a laughable, win-less quest.  Unless it means to find that we aren’t real.  That the notion of this person who has all these experiences. . .it’s the cosmic joke.  We get to *feel* as though we’re real, as consciousness without apparent separation is totally unconscious.   So the divine split into billions and billions of pieces so that it could experience all the infinite experiences and feelings repeatedly, all at once, over and over.  And then pieces of itself awaken to their glorious nothingness.  What a fucking fantastic unfolding.

My mind today created many things to react to, and I felt the internal response.  Sometimes attachment.  Sometimes fear.  Sometimes melancholy nostalgia.  But then I would ask “Whose emotion is that?”  It wasn’t mine.  I can’t find the source of me.  I can only find a single source – and it *feels* like a vast, infinite, identity-less chasm of love, bliss, and liberation.  That space I feel when I drop the need to be me is an incredible nothingness where everything dwells.  I realize that isn’t in the least bit sensible.  Nothing about these no-mind spaces makes sense. . .to the mind.  They’re not supposed to.  They can’t, really.  But the heart this body embraces – she swells and expands and it feels like. . .well, home.

And so that is my current focus / task.  To take all that is happening, all that “I” am feeling – in every moment – and to remember that it’s NOT personal.  It can’t be, because “I” don’t exist.  It’s not personal if someone is raped.  It’s not personal if someone wins the lottery.  It’s not personal if someone falls in love.  It’s just the all experiencing the all.  All the beautiful damn time.

Last Sunday, a gorgeous burst of light named Wayne Steinart seemingly left the world.  I know this gem back from my early days as a Producer at Disney Online.  He ended up marrying another co-worker, one of my favorite mega-hot  5’10″ blondes, Miss P.  They were the kind of couple I wanted to be in at the time – effortless, mind-blowingly well-matched, and crazy in love.  Right about the time I settled into my marriage to that very dream guy, she loses hers.  It’s been heart-wrenching.  But I’ve used it as a chance to go deeper into what it really means.

What does it mean to die?  I had oodles of time to ponder such things as I zipped off to LA in a puddle jumper plane, connecting through Palm Springs (the only way I could get there on short notice during the holidaze.)  It led me back to that core question – what are *we*, anyway?  Separate, identity filled beings, or big cosmic jokes?  Both, apparently – but one is closer to the Truth.

As I sailed through skiffs of effervescent clouds, looking down on their shadows as they waltzed across mountain tops, I marveled at how real at all seemed.  At how real *I* seemed. And yet when I try to pin down that concept – that obligatory “I” – there is nothing there but a sense, a wish, a wannabe.  When I go into this essence I label as mine, it’s evident “I” don’t own it at all – it’s just the apparent perspective, this first person view.  What’s more real is that oneness.  There is nothing about “my” identity that is any different from anyone else – just an identification with a handful of specific traits.  Yet I can be any / all of the roles that I see playing out before me – it’s just impossible (so it seems) to play them all at once.  And so there’s a choice – whether it’s mine or Divinity’s, I don’t know – to be a certain aspect of the All, in every moment.  But that seems that the big haha-I-got-you is this — the notion of “me” is just an aspect of the All.  I felt the undeniable reality that I am Divinity – every last cell of it.  Everything is possible.  It’s just that I can only see one tiny sliver of What Is.

So as I found myself missing Wayne, aching for his widow, and wishing peace for all of us who don’t really understand this crazy life-game, there also played across my lips a gigantic smile.  Something really magical is always, always at play – when I fall into it, the gray matter is blown to bits with the love divinity has for me.  It IS me.  Many of us play this wild game of self-destruction and apparent self-loathing – yet, it seems, we are really, really on to something — this is the very crux of awakening, it it is allowed.  There is no “me” to hate / destroy.  That’s only an idea.  As I flew to be with my old work family, I kept thinking, “We came from somewhere, perhaps that’s where we return.”  But it feels now as if I was missing something – we are were we have always been.  There is no coming and going – no life and death.  Just the perception of.  Trying on different masks.  Wearing different parts of our whole.  What else could oneness do but pretend to be separate?  It feels like the only way to realize that there is oneness after all.

And so I thanked Wayne, sincerely, for being a piece of the oneness to help me fall further into the truth.  The visitation, therefore, felt wonderful – even in its massive sadness and injustice.  Those can fit into the idea of oneness – because if all is Divine, EVERYthing fits.  There’s nothing to do or undo – just authenticity, however that feels in every moment.  It was extraordinary hugging all those beautiful souls and thinking – “I love you.  Me.  Us.  I love.”

And yes, it seems to be true that beings come and go, but those in the current view, I see clearly that those are only aspects our ourselves that keep popping up and disappearing.  Think about it – the All would have a lot of facets, a lot of roles to play.  Infinite possibilities.  That makes for a chaotic play, you know?  And we, as the apparent separate consciousnesses that fall in love with the idea of ourselves, and those around us – man, we fall to pieces when favorite parts come and go.  But lest we think we are crying for those that have apparently “passed-on.”  We are crying for the idea of ourselves, desperately missing those to whom we have attached.  And, of course, the fear of that great mortal unkown – because we can’t know, until we’re there – and then we’re lucky if “we” are still conscious enough to take it all in.

I sit here now and fully own these beautiful concepts.  I don’t feel like Kitty.  I feel like the eyes/ears/nose/mouth/touch of consciousness, playing out the very specific actions and emotions that it wants to place in the world.  Makes it clear why authenticity is so tethered to the Divine, no matter what it looks like – this is what “it” wants to be.  God, the universe, divinity – whatever you want to call it.  It’s moving through each of us, as apparent separate beings, with a bold and boisterous acorn of intention.  When that’s repressed, in my experience, it feels like poo.  When it’s released, it feels like. . .aw wow, just fucking perfect.  It’s so much better to be authentically sad than inauthentically happy.  And so even though there’s some awareness of this magical drama that’s unfolding, this wannabe “I” willing goes into the grief of loss.  It’s impossible to know if and when I’ll ever see the uniqueness that was Wayne again.  And that hurts, because he just rocked.  So that is true, but so is the illusion of it all.

What a freaking beautiful paradox.  Let’s all love this perfect mystery, and every facet of it – ie everyone in it.

“Is your place in heaven / worth giving up these kisses?” – Tori Amos

Sometimes so much happens, so quickly – light speed, it seems – that I’m constantly writing blogs in my mind, and they never reach the inter-ethers.  So goes the last five weeks.  And while a billion and one things have transpired, blossomed, and grabbed me by the thyroid, none will surpass the memorability of watching a man get shot to death.

The build-up began the week prior.  I had a monumental weekend with the apprenticeship – three days in the wilderness.  Days that seemed innocent and educational, rich with genuine awakenings, connectivity with plants and people – a really worthwhile venture.  I learned an endless amount about plant communication and medicinal benefits, and even got to begin making medicine in the field with my teacher and fellow apprentice-friends.  Nothing Earth-shattering, so it seemed – just new expansions and immeasurably valuable insights.

Then, I came home, and pretty much came unglued.

As is always the case, I can tell how much integrity I’m currently granting myself by the level of harmony I have with Orion.  Literally from word Go, upon my arrival home, we started having massive flare-ups.  Fights-a-plenty that left me feeling *TORE UP* inside.  Maddening.  I started accessing the inside spaces, trying to unravel the how’s and why’s.  And there she was, the scared little girl demanding safety and comfort.  The one who wants promises and guarantees and a right to feel and throw fits and the whole nine yards, and be accepted by her partner too.  Here’s the rub with that – Orion will grant me all the space I need to feel up a storm, but only if I’m being honest about what is on the surface.  This is what I’ve asked for, of course.  As someone who literally lives in shadow work – the unraveling of the subconscious – I wouldn’t have it any other way.  But when the subconscious is tricking the waking mind – when I’m in the state of wanting / needing something that *feels* legitimate, but is actually just a mind-trick trying to regain control of things – I can really lose my shit.  And I did so for the first week of July, almost daily.

I went deep, deep into the perceived fear that wracked my conscious mind, and found the part that was afraid of the world.  Afraid of the loss of control – and the very real awareness that there is NO control, ever.  There never was.  I was tricked for a long while, and while the gig is up, it takes a bit for my entire being to accept the Truth.  She was trying during those days, but every time I went out into the world, I wanted safety.  I wanted peace.  And when I was with Orion, shit, I wanted EVERYTHING from him – promises he won’t ever make (and would piss me off anyway, because I only trust in the present moment, and would know any “I will always love you” declaration was just a meager way to appease me anyway), the right to be all kinds of neurotic, and basically to have it all go MY way.  He reacted in kind, and left me stranded in my laughable state of attempted-control.

In the midst of all this, I had 2 dental surgeries (which I had been avoiding for YEARS, literally) and my soul-cat Mr. Boo also went under the knife.  I poured on the anxieties, not completely realizing I was doing my best on the highest level to get me to admit THERE IS NO CONTROL – and that life sucks when you hand it a script and demand that it be followed.  On the flipside, it’s actually a complete and total nirvana if you just love what is.

Then, that following Saturday, I trekked off to Costco for our monthly shopping spree.  As I stood in line with a cart absolutely spilling over with goodies, employees whisked my direction, quietly requesting that all patrons leave the store immediately.  Some mysterious store emergency.

We left in an organized fashion.  Some went straight to their cars, but I plopped down on a nearby bench, right next to the front door, and started texting Orion this message – “I’m in a weird situation.”  Then, all hell broke loose.

I heard the sound of a very loud male voice say “Drop the gun.”  Then he yelled it.  ”DROP THE GUN!”  My head whipped up to see a red-headed, well built thirty-something guy facing what I know now was a trio of cops, guns drawn.  He looked stunned and dazed, and while I didn’t see a weapon in his hand, I did see him slowly make a motion that appeared he was reaching for a gun on his right hip.  He didn’t get to complete the gesture – one of cops fired the first round, and several more shots exploded into his torso.  He died a few minutes later.  By then, I was already in my car, calling Orion, fleeing the terror of the scene.

It took me a full day to put together what I had seen.  Much more to process what I had wanted to see.  I learned how useless eye witnesses are, as what I *thought* in those first few moments had played out in front of me was no where near the truth.  I didn’t know that cops had pulled the trigger – I didn’t see them behind the pillars.  And I recognize now that I wanted the man who had died to be a thug, a terrible person – someone who deserved what happened, so I could make sense of it, tuck it away, and move on.

The deceased was a West Point grad, a pillar of our community – a really, really good guy.  Shopping at Costco with his girlfriend.  A normal Saturday.  But he had chosen to arm himself with not one, but two concealed weapons that day – legally, mind you, as he carried a permit.  A Costco employee spotted one of those, shared some sort of dialogue with him, and was driven to call the police.  Cops arrive in an effort to create peace and protect.  One of them yells at a man without a gun in his hand, but on his hip to “Drop the gun”.  Another fires when he sees this guy reach for the gun.

It’s a big mess, no matter how you slice it – all kinds of gray.  Poor commands, a hugely excessive use of force, but a drama full of human mistakes that I simply cannot judge.  I may have done exactly the same on all fronts.  But the one thing I don’t do – carry a weapon.  Thank goodness such acts aren’t illegal, because I sure as hell don’t advocate more instructions on what we can and cannot do, but hear this – if you put a gun on your person today, do not be surprised if you are driven to use it, or if one is used against you.  The masses still (understandably) get insanely spooked when spying a concealed weapon on anyone, and shit like this goes down.  Is it insanely tragic and all kinds of heartbreaking?  Yes.  Yet there’s a very real energy sent out by someone who’s carrying a gun – a paranoid dialogue with the world that says “I need to protect myself”.  Be careful what you wish for.

Now, taking this to a higher level, outside of the relative, it makes absolute perfect sense why I needed to witness this scene.  Here I was, battling internally with the concept of safety, and allowing myself to accept there was no such thing.  And wham bam, I get the most tangible reminder imaginable – just short of being the one who was shot.  I was awestruck by the unfolding – the perfect timing.  I let it rattle the holy shit out of me, feeling every nook and cranny of the fear and injustice and pain of it all.  And then I thanked the universe and myself profusely for allowing me to fast track this unlearning.

A few weeks later, on an airplane ride back from the latest apprenticeship weekend, it all came together in a blissful connection.  I connected with the awareness behind the “me” perspective inside, and watched as my eyes went back and forth between the “No smoking” and “Seat belts” signs.  It *seemed* as if that was my control.  Like I would think about moving my eyes, and my eyes would move.  Yet somewhere in there, I connected with the *awareness* that was moving my eyes, letting me perceive it was coming from “me”.  I started feeling this cosmic joke on the deepest level, and it made me absolutely giddy.  Orion was with me, and we dove into the meaning – the complete and total awareness that we have no control – NONE – over any event, any movement, anything.  We need to *believe* that we do for us to unravel the truth, as without the contrast, it cannot be illuminated.  This revelation is still processing inside, but it’s a magical one indeed. Nowadays, I’m playing the role my instincts ask me to, but with the wide-eyed wonder of a kid watching a really awesome TV show.  And while I still have all the human emotions, and surrender into them willingly too, I have an even stronger connection to awareness, acting as the observer, watching every aspect of the drama with detachment, love, acceptance and surrender.

So I watched someone die.  Apparently.  I also watched the drama unfold the way those souls wanted / needed it to – mine included.  I also connected to the universal oneness, the shared consciousness, and the lie that death represents.  Most of this does not make sense to my feeble mind, but the insides are buzzing.  They are aware that the only thing that dies is this concept of self.  Even the body lives on, in a different form (merging with the Earth’s soil, ashes into the atmosphere, etc. – it’s still life.  It’s all life.)  In the midst of any chaos lies a core of total Truth.  I found it in the sound of shots fired.  Which means it really is Everywhere.

Just when I get accustomed to the harmony and flow of life, a curve ball smashes a dent in my figurative skull.  Several.  Big ones.  Fast balls, see.

Last week, Orion, Hijo and I jetted off to LA for a mixed-bag adventure.  On the menu, in a primary sense, was a visit with Zen, Orion’s younger brother – the one written about lovingly here, in reference to his battle with lymphoma. We stayed at his cute 50′s style cabana in Reseda, and it was my first in-person meeting with Zen and his really lovely wife.  Out of the gate, I loved them both, energetically and in that what-a-cool-human sense.  But because Zen is deep in the thick of his battle with cancer, there is such complexity brewing – every word, every emotion feels loaded and fragile.  It was, admittedly, hard to talk to him.  My issue – I wanted so much to wave a magic wand and feel his soul melt into life and his being feel light and happy again, instead of toxic and doomed.  I had hoped to come in with some tools of assistance, but I felt an immediate barrier.  Even still, the first night went really well.  I gave Zen several gifts – one a juiced-up power object (tourmaline, the shaman’s stone) that has been sacred to me for some time now.  Our dialogue was open and deep, and I felt so honored to have this immediate connection.  But by the next morning, that dissipated.  The reasons, in a relative sense, were twofold – 1) Zen was feeling like poo that morning, and ended up back at the hospital for most of the following day, and 2), Orion woke up in a seriously foul mood, which I then in turn allowed to sink me into a tough space as well.  That would be the theme of the trip – Orion and I were nasty to each other at times, uncharacteristically so, and it kept throwing me for loop after loop after loop.  Tears were shed one morning in the yard as we dissected these blow ups.  I felt unheard, way too vulnerable, and fed up with the self-imposed lockdown on speaking my truth about our interactions.  All gifts, but shit if that wasn’t a powder keg of a scenario.  Looming around a beautiful soul who is facing his own mortality has a natural effect of asking me to do the same.  I reveled in the lack of separateness – because while the ego really wanted to look with sympathy on Zen for his really challenging predicament, the truth is his story is my story, and I could not diminish our shared experience.  I looked it him and felt what it was like to think you’re dying of cancer.  I looked at him and wanted so badly to help him change his story, in part because I felt it as my own.  But then the higher self would chime in, remind me of the perfection of his dance, how it is his path to awakening, if he chooses it, and the sympathy dissolved into the only thing that remained – unconditional love.

Even with this knowingness, I kept my distance from Zen the rest of the trip.  My head surmised that was his wish, but in the nothing outside of self exists realm that I abide by, it was clearly my own.  I’m still often not willing to call out the elephant in the room, and to really stare down the Very Big Topics.  But I trust that it just wasn’t my place to intervene at this time.  My desire to do so was simply egoic.  I looked in Zen’s eyes and felt the barrier.  A wall we both constructed.  And I knew it wasn’t appropriate to try and blaze on through.  So I watched from a distance, sometimes in tears, but always with my heart.

And in the meantime, during all this interplay, the snaps between Orion and myself were coming in spades.  My head spun from the frequency and depth, and I wound up unraveling.  Seemingly confused by the negative interchanges.  By our very keen inability to communicate clearly.  I tried to let it break my heart, but I kept getting self conscious about the surroundings – not my home, not my place to let it rip, in the presence of people facing huge life challenges.  Who am I to come unglued because of spats with my partner?

We made our way home, and while things were peaceful on the surface, I was seething inside.  Angry at myself for what was transpiring, and trying desperately not to project all this on Orion.  By the time we were back in Vegas, it would seem the worst was over.  But then a blowup came worse than all the rest of the week’s crisscrosses combined – mainly because I finally stepped up and spoke my peace, in a very non-peaceful way.  I saw the charge rise up again in Orion, and had reached my capacity to try and process without kicking and screaming.  I brought out the expletives and just unleashed.  Not surprisingly, he didn’t take my projections well – and basically sent me away.  Reached his capacity as well.  So I did something I’ve never done before in our relationship – I left home, and checked into a hotel.  I didn’t actually think I’d sleep there that evening, but the just in case thoughts prevailed, and all I really wanted was a safe haven to decompress inside.  I had previously made my way to my old home, which is now inhabited by a super amazing friend and her equally amazing husband.  I wasn’t sure if they had moved in yet, so I made my way to what I had hoped would be a private haven – then I saw their furnishings inside, and my heart just collapsed.  This was the house I had bought – my first home purchase – thinking maybe I’d live there forever.  Or at least a really long time.  Now it was almost in foreclosure, claimed again by someone new.  And this homeless girl allowed those emotions to just. . .rise to the surface.  So after a good hour spent meditating in a nearby park, I checked in to a local hotel and pondered what might be next.

Orion and I ended up reconciling via phone shortly thereafter, and I made my way back to the new home which didn’t yet feel like home.  As we discussed what had transpired, I suddenly heard myself speaking words I had silenced for sometime.  They centered around my communication challenges with him, felt primarily whenever I hit that fragile emotional place.  The truth is, the deeper I hurt, the more I feel rejected by the one I love (and, in turn, by my own self).  When I’m clear, I know that Orion’s intent in those times is to fight back against my ego, to not let her run the show, and to not become condescending to the part of me that wants to believe this world is real.  I get that he has the highest intentions.  But none of me feels loved during this part of our dance, and it just came to a head in this particular conversation.  I still don’t know what it all means.  I heard myself tell him how devastating it is to feel danger when all I crave is love and warmth.  At the same time, I’m grateful for the really harsh way he treats me in those moments, because it forces to get me clear on what’s really going on, and look inside for unconditional love, not out.  So I’m not sure which part of me is really asking for him to be gentle with me.  And I’m not sure it’s a sincere request.  All I knew in that moment was – I have to tell him.  I have to tell him how much it hurts me to see his anger, his robotic, cold cold reflection, when I’m in my deepest breakdowns.

Then came today’s Sangha – our weekly Sunday meetings with our Enlightened Master, Mac.  Conversations always swarm around the absolute – about the true nature of reality.  Today was a special day – sparsely populated, very direct, very focused.  Orion is off flying to Shanghai, so I was the sole host.  One participant, the Poet – named as such because *everything* he speaks is poetry – talked about the Buddhist notion of “entering the stream”.  This is an act done by the individual who is willing to let down self – to enter the stream and be in the flow of life, not a driver.  No identity at all.  It isn’t enlightenment per say, but it is a stripping down – a willingness to be without ego.  A proverbial gesture of nakedness and vulnerability.  I buzzed as he relayed the notion, and willingly reentered the stream.

This day was magical.  As the Sangha ticked on, all but three of us left.  Guru Mac, Fire-Friend, and myself.  Mac even gave me a foot rub today, as we went deep into the nature of emotions.  I can’t even process how honored I feel to have had this experience.  And through the interchange today. . .I am just now realizing. . .I got my answer.

Mac helped me categorize emotions in a sense – to understand that they spring forth from one of four scenarios.

1) Phobias – the stories our minds create around fears (example – I’m afraid of cockroaches and totally freak out when one is near)

2) Psychosis – illogical, emotional responses to things that don’t even exist (example – My life is a mess because my fear of cockroaches permeates my every day experience)

3) Neurosis – the externalization of illogical fears (exampled – I won’t go in that house because it might have a cockroach)

4) Real (in the relative sense) – emotions that spring up because of actual life events

The first three are tricks – tactics the mind employs to maintain control, and to keep a grip on the perceived sense of reality.  The last one is the only logical place to let emotions run free.  If your dad dies, let your heart break.  If life is throwing you curve balls, let your emotional self feel whatever he / she needs to feel.  But if your mind is creating emotions that do not reflect what you know to be true in your circumstances, do not be fooled.

So I bring this back to my week with Orion.  I think in part our conflicts came from our inability to talk about what was really bothering us.  We projected on each other, rather than talk about the heart of the matter.  And my conversation with him regarding my apparent “needs” shows me the places in which I am not “in the stream”.  I basically voiced to Orion that his way of being didn’t fit my script.  I still say there’s real validity in needing to be treated with kid’s gloves on occasion, but *only* when than emotional need arises from real circumstances, not those created by my mind.

To put this in tangible terms:

What feels right, in the highest sense, is to feel safe and loved and nurtured when the shit hits the fan.  If my brother is dying of lymphoma, if the whole fucking world is imploding, than yes, please, show me some mercy until the floods subside.  But if I’m acting out from any of those phobic/psychotic/neurotic spaces, do not play my game.

It seems futile to dissect the past and analyze when Orion showed me that harshness and when he didn’t – I’m simply grateful for the clarity of where I stand emotionally.  This is all centered in self-integrity.  If I keep that in check at all times, then some part of me will know when the mind is playing an emotional game.  In those moments, if Orion reacts with toxic glances and out-lashes, it shouldn’t matter – nothing is as it seems at those times, and it would just be the ego who wanted to be protected.  That’s the rub, of course, because when I fall into the illusion, I do so because of my ego.  She’s extraordinarily crafty, and she wants to be validated – and is bloody sick of my “you are not real” light of truth.  But I feel like this is another big light in the realm of self-discovery – to insist that I be aware of the source of emotions.  I trust that what transpires between my partner and I will follow suit, and will reflect back exactly what I need.

A big blog post for a very big week.  Facing mortality, blowups with loved ones, footrubs from a guru.  That this is my life makes me eternally grateful.

“Waiting on Sunday to drown. . .”

(Tori Amos)

“Here we are on a journey from birth to death, with an opportunity to contribute a verse to the song of life. I want to sing of a deep awake world. I want to sing of a new tribe of compassionate, creative, wise, liberated, erotic, sublime, appreciative, unique individuals, living lucidly as one and many… If you do too, let’s sing together and raise the roof.”

How Long Is Now?, Tim Freke, 2009

A little over four years ago, on that first fateful date with Seeker, he gave me a copy of a little book called Lucid Living, by Timothy Freke.  I read it the following day in one sitting – only took about 30 minutes to digest, but the impact was profound enough to shift the course of my life for good.  It packs a punch, this little morsel, and I remember exactly where I read it (in bed, broad daylight, hungover from too much drinky with Seeker) and how I felt as I meandered through it (shocked, thrilled, awed, and holy shit – SAFE.)  The book outlines a little of life’s mystery – creating a beautiful metaphor between lucid dreaming, and our so-called “waking” lives.  It is audacious and yet loving, profound yet simple, and I started looking at my world in a new light after having read it.

Tim made such an impression with this bitty beast, I did a ton of research on the author himself, and found he had created a group called the Alliance for Lucid Living.  The ALL, for short, is a group that supports people who have found their way to this awakening – to bring us all together so we can keep talking the talk, and walking the same – with support and love.  I joined straight away, and started receiving the infrequent but magnificent emails.  I watched Tim’s schedule, noting that while he did all these intriguing workshops and talks, he didn’t do them often in the states, and never in a place I could actually attend.  As I read more of and about him, however, he quickly reached hero status to me – he’s written 31 books, has a freaking awesome, British sense of humor, and just absolutely exudes Big Love (one of his trademark phrases).  I was simply enamored with his mission to awaken people to their true natures – to show the door to the Oneness with such gentleness and humor.  And success.  He has legions of folks, myself included, testifying to the power of his philosophies.  His ideas are tried, tested, and true – I’m living proof.  He helped me wake up.

Then came the day I had been waiting for.  An ALL newsletter in the summer of 2009 revealed that Tim would be speaking at the Science and Non-Duality conference in San Francisco, and putting on a day-long retreat as well.  Orion and I made immediate plans to attend both, and we had an absolute blast.  The workshop did a number on me.  Not only did I start to really feel this space of Big Love that Tim talked so much about, I got to meet this Hero of mine.  Some of us even had dinner with him afterwards.  And as Orion and I sat talking to this remarkably humble, brilliant being, we said simply “Man, come to Vegas.  We need you out there.  We’re ready.”

A few months of correspondence transpired, and lo and behold – we actually inked this desert dream.  Tim and his long-time friend and assistant Anthony came to visit us last week, here to infuse Vegas with a big beautiful wake-up call.  I had one of my heroes STAYING IN MY HOME.  We spent the week together.  He makes it hard to hold him in hero-status, however, as he’s just so human.  So full of love and lacking all that superiority business.  I, at least, had a fucking fabulous time.  We had a sushi dinner to introduce him to the community, along with a local radio interview (which Orion and I were blessed enough to assist with.)  Then we had a Stand Up Philosophy events, another trademark of Tim’s, where he gave a teaser for the Main Event and gave people a glimpse into his insight and offerings.  It was a fantastic night.  50 or so seekers heard some truth, and felt a connection beyond their separate selves.  That would have been enough.  But the money shot was coming.

Last weekend, we hosted Tim’s famous Magical Mystery Experience workshop in our home.  20 folks from literally around the world (Mexico, Britain, Ecuador, Los Angeles, Las Vegas) joined us for a deep dive into the great mystery of life and love.  Tim combines a lot of revealing, insightful banter with a bunch of intensely beautiful exercises.  They all help each participant celebrate their separate consciousnesses (for without them, we would have no identity, and no ability to reflect and experience on what we *really* are, in that awesome oneness sense), and to step outside this space and into the realm of that glorious Big Love.  It’s a tough process to describe.  But oh my god is it ever powerful.  I cried a whole lotta happy tears all weekend.  I got to share this heart-exploding experience with some of my Very Favorite People (BFF + her Painter partner, Orion, several angels from Vegas, etc.).  And I absolutely, unequivocally fell more in love with myself, my friends, and the whole wide world.

Tim doesn’t pretend to have all the answers.  He’s refreshingly honest in the way he readily (and humorously) admits what he doesn’t know.  Which, as he states it, is just about everything.  But what he does is re-awaken us to the deliciousness of life, it’s very mystery and magic.  And he’s figured out a very gentle, hugely effective way to lift folks right up into the space of oneness – of complete and utter love like you’ve never experience.

Words simply cannot express how huge and awesome this weekend was.  Tim gifted us all with unspeakable awakenings, allowed us to bond and feel the oneness with each other, and just as precious to me, became a real friend to Orion and myself.  It’s quite a miracle when someone who literally changed your life from afar suddenly becomes a very real fixture in your waking world.  First Tori Amos, now Tim Freke – and this time it’s much more real.  I really couldn’t be more grateful.

We’re doing it again this September – we’ve tentatively chosen September 3-5 for the next big event – another Magical Mystery Experience, complete with a Standup Philosophy Event on Thursday, September 2nd.

If you gift yourself with only one consciousness exploration this year, this is really, truly The One.  I’m a retreat junkie – I’ve been to many experiences that are crafted to help wake us up to who we are.  But none are more powerful – in the most gentlest of ways – than Tim Freke’s Magical Mystery Experience.  This is a safe, intimate, heart-expanding experience, and everyone who came last weekend had a profoundly beautiful time.  We’d love to see you at the next one.  I’ll keep this blog updated with the next go-round, but seriously, set your travel plans now if you aren’t already in Las Vegas.  You deserve to know this love.  I sure as hell do, and every cell in my being is still rejoicing.

* Takes place in a remote retreat   * Men and women are separated at all times   * Retreat uses “noble silence” – this means we don’t utter a peep to each other during our stay, nor do we make eye contact.  This is to maintain a respectful vibe, and to allow us to fall deeply into our processes.   * We meditate for a total of 10 hours and 45 minutes a day, broken up only by meal breaks.  * Evenings include a 90 minute video discourse from Guru Goenka, the current enlightened master presiding over this process.

Going into this adventure, I’ll admit I was more than a little petrified.  I could barely eek out a solid 10 minute meditation, let alone a gargantuan 100+ hour 10 day meditation extravaganza.  As the day drew closer, so did my panic level.  But then a funny thing happened.  On the day we drove the four hours to our destination, I hit my most peaceful, surrendered, happy state.  I knew what I was about to experience would be colossal, challenging, beautiful and nightmarish.  But I found the space within that said Yes to it all, and thusly gifted myself with a graceful, joyous entry into the unknown.

The first night we arrived, we all had a last talkie-filled dinner, heard the instructions from a staff member, and hit the start of noble silence.  Along with the first meditation.  I hit my stride right off.  The first few days, actually, were easy-peasey.  I bounced around the campus with a vibrant grin, absolutely loving the vegetarian fare, the quiet pace, the delicious silence, and the very relaxed meditations.  For those first 3 1/2 days, all we did was focus on our breathing – specifically the area around our nostrils.  Anapana meditation, as it’s referred to – and oh my God, I just LOVED it.  I had gone into the Vipassana journey expecting serious rigidity – insistence on sitting still during the hour+ meditations, staff-hawks watching our every breath, bamboo rods smacking me when I had a twitch.  And none of this transpired.  It was an honor system, anything goes experience (minus talking, and the meditations WERE required) – I found it simply lovely.  Not easy, but awesome.  My ego was doing backflips.

On day four, dubbed “Vipassana Day”, the whole experience got kicked up about four trillion notches.  We learned the real Vipassana meditation technique, founded in core Buddhism, which involves the following:

* Observing sensations in every part of the body   * Sending our awareness part by part throughout the body, and noting what is  * Reaching a state of equanimity for all that is uncovered, whether or not the sensations are painful, pleasurable, or anything in between  * NOT MOVING ON IOTA FOR A FULL SIXTY MINUTES, NO MATTER WHAT

It’s the last one that got me.  I see myself as a fidgity, manic, energy-crazed creature who moves, almost all the time – even in sleep.  This is why meditation was always a challenge – I had an internal dialogue that told me I couldn’t sit still.  And it’s external as well – I’ve heard such feedback since I was a screechy tyke.  Going into the first 60 minute “Sitting of Strong Determination”, as they refer to these particular meditations, I was all aflutter.  I felt like there was no freaking way I could bang this out.  Not move for a full hour?  While scanning my body and remaining neutral to all sensations?  Shit – getting my dream threesome with Monica Bellucci felt far more probable.

And yet, I wanted it.  I wanted this victory so bad I was dizzy with my focus.  This meditation was a crucial one, because if I failed, I’d have resistance for the entire rest of my journey.  I needed to prove something to myself in a big, big way.  So I dropped the rest of the meditation technique for this particular sitting, and simply promised myself I wouldn’t move.  The entire 60 minutes, I ran one thing and one thing only through my over-active noggin: YOU ARE NOT MOVING.  There were profanities, as well as gentle guidance, included in the midst, but that was the gist of it.

Of course, I chose a position that would prove to be insanely painful in about, oh, 2.5 minutes.  Great.  An added challenge.  I took it all in with all this new gusto.  Nevermind the screaming pain in my right hip.  Forget about the intense muscle cramping in the lower back.  Just sit still, for chrissake, and show you have the cajones to get through what thousands before have done with ease.

When the meditation ended, I cried.  Seriously.  Because I had actually done it.  Not a muscle moved for the full 60 minutes.  No, I wasn’t exactly equanimous to the pain I had experience.  Nor was I above the absolute elation I felt to having accomplished my goal.  But all that was fine – I had laid the needed foundation.  I could freaking DO this.  Hot. Dog.

The rest of the retreat was a veritable roller coaster of emotional mayhem.  For the most part, I stayed in a very peaceful state.  But around day 8, ego started having a field day.  She was already screaming up a storm in the internal dialogue, having gotten wind of all this no-mind meditation crap.  She had long since been playing god-awful muzak on repeat in the headspace – shit like Lady Gaga played on repeat, at increasing volumes, despite my efforts to turn it off altogether.  But I understood her resistance.  I was taking away a big chunk of her power.

So she retaliated with annoying pop tunes and large doses of anger.  I wasn’t so fond of Guru Goenka’s evening discourses, nor his horrifically repetitive audio bookends to each meditation.  The man insists on chanting / spinging as entries into and exits out of each meditation, and I am not exaggerating when I say that is the WORST VOICE I HAVE EVER HEARD.  He plays it up for emphasis, too.  That’s how these enlightened chaps roll.  They live to torture our egos.  And I live to take it in

ANYway, I finished the retreat with flying colors, and was so, so proud to see how well Orion did too (although not in the least bit surprised.)  We had ourselves a grand contemplation during those 10 days, and left with heaps and heaps of satisfaction and gratitude.  As we drove home, we laughed about the egoic resistance, the fact that Orion almost got kicked out for exhibiting “unstable” tendencies (stories for another time – and man are they GOOD), and the wild things we witnessed internally and beyond.

We marked Vipassana as a very successful venture, right away.  Yet it wasn’t until 2-3 days later that we really started feeling the benefits.

Orion and I had a another awakening the Monday after we returned – one that actually happened *simultaneously*.  We had never experienced a unified transcendence before – and laughed later about how un-surprised we were that we had managed to manifest such a thing.  Anyway, as the no-mind state really started to permeate into our cells, we both experienced another layer of ego-death.  It was so magical and meaningful/less that I really can’t describe it.  But really, what we learned about Vipassana is that we really don’t know what happened there, on a mind-level.  It changed us, that’s for sure.  We got closer to the Truth, which is really the core reason why we do *anything* these days.

How this all relates to the now: I am deep into the awareness that I have been resisting this lessons in mass quantities during the last 30 days or so.  I have an earache, jaw pain, and several angry teeth that tell me this and more.  These are signs that my body has been talking oodles to me, and again, I have chosen not to listen.  Even though Vipassana taught me this was, in part, the path to enlightenment.  It starts in the body, and I feel that to be absolutely True.  So here I am, trying to ignore my pain and messages, trying to focus fully on the external world and ignore the main priorities – to transcend into the ethers of awareness and know the true nature of reality.

That’s what happens when I touch the sun – I fall back down to earth, and ego clings all the more ferociously.  I am grateful to my body for alerting me to my unconscious ways these days, and am taking steps to come back into the nothingness.  Meditation, shamanic journeys, and a heightened sense of awareness are all on the menu.  As always, it feels so lovely to wake up again.

Would I do another Vipassana?  Probably not.  I recommend it whole-heartedly to anyone who feels the calling.  For myself, I just didn’t jive with Goenka in any fashion, and feel a big block to going deeper with his teachings.  That said, I am *all* about the silent meditation retreat – and will actively seek out another opportunity to try something new in this space next year.  Feels like a lovely yearly tradition – to shut up for 10 days and listen to what is.  Maybe then I will learn to do so all year round.

“You want a love which is born out of meditation, not born out of the mind.”

- Osho

Like many angst-ridden goth-wannabe teens, I had a viscous streak of suicidal ideation.  It started through an innocent fascination with death, and before I knew it, I had actually named my suicidal thoughts “consumption”, as they were truly becoming all-consuming.  I wrote poems and short stories, and invariably, the main character would off him/herself in some dramatic fashion.  I was insanely drawn to dark art, films, books, etc. – anything that brought me into the deep reaches of the lowest imaginable notes.  I loved the dark side and shunned the light, often in a literal fashion (I was known to actually put aluminum foil on my windows to keep out any shred of light, at all times.)  As I got older, into my early twenties, this became a full-on obsession.  And yes, I played the role of a happy-go-lucky college student, which was in part quite genuine, but I was far, far more fond of that tortured, pain-ridden artist.  Alienated and misunderstood.  Really freaking serious about finally taking the bull by the horns and seeing what this afterlife business was really all about.

I know now, and knew then, that I wasn’t really serious.  It was just a game, just a role that I happened to have a true affinity for.  I did trip up a time or two in my effort to make others believe the dance, and came close to actually doing the deed.  But grace wouldn’t allow a tragic mistake.  Either that, or I’m smarter than I thought I was.  Whatever the reason, I’m still here, and as time wore on, the role got old.  I transformed into someone more fond of the higher notes.  I recognized the immaturity of my dark world-view, and started adopting something I deemed far more authentic.  Ayahuasca, too, helped kick out the old dark obsessions.  She showed me tangible results of what indulgences in such so-called “negative” forces really does.  Yes, it’s all divine.  Yes, it’s all God.  But I don’t have to live my life in complete desolation and misery.  And as it turns out, it’s way, way more fun to giggle and frolic.

Yet there’s a constructive, wonderfully uplifting aspect to my suicidal past.  Now that my path is more clearly illuminated, I suspect there was way more at work back in those days of consumption.  On the surface, it would seem that I was simply a sad little teenager, falling prey to the self-pity trap, and indulging in a role I really wanted to be true.  By claiming myself the wanting-to-die goth-girl, I kept the world at a distance, and freed myself from vulnerability.  I never had to admit to what I truly felt, in any moment, because I was too busy playing the part of the wanting-to-die pixie.  That’s not to say that I didn’t want out – sometimes in the worst way – I just know I over emphasized my sincerity, because there really was none with regards to the actual finality.  I have always, always loved living.  This is why I gravitated to all that dark, gut-wrenching expression – it actually made me feel.  And in a very real sense, that was living to me back then.

Today, I am a profoundly joyful woman very consciously on the path to enlightenment.  And lo and behold, there’s a hell of a lot of talk about dying in this beautiful game.  Enlightenment, it is said, represents the chance to die before you die.  To allow the very possibility of death, so one can lay down the ego and actually experience the true nature of who we are.  How exciting, then, that I get to bring back the old role.  Only this time, it actually has to be genuine.  But I’m not out to kill myself, really — I’m out to transcend the story of myself.  This is WILD.  And WONDERFUL.  Full circle doesn’t even cut it.  I’d like to think that old me was really on to something.  That I was playing out this desire for liberation long before I ever knew what it was, and what was possible (not that I really know yet – the finger is just pointing ever closer to the moon.)

There’s even more delicious irony in all of this too.  All of my enlightened teachers caution that suicide is not a viable choice.  This puzzled me at first, because as I hear them speak it, once you self-realize, you recognize that this is all a dream-state game.  So why would one’s choice of an exit actually matter in the least?  I can’t say I know know, but this is starting to make sense.  The state that you are in when you finally do exit your body is integral to the experience you create when you reach the next state.  Whatever that will be.  I’ve heard others express this before and it has (and still does) confused me a bit.  That means to me that if I’m struck by a car tomorrow, out of the blue, and go out in a state of traumatic resistance, I’ll immediately be thrust into a similar repeat.  Seems a little unfair to punish the unaware, right?  Well, there’s the rub.  There is no such thing on the highest level.  In other words, if that is my fate tomorrow, I had that in the cards all along.  I, the higher self, the master of this manifested existence.  It may not be my time to “wake up” and become enlightened.  It may in fact be a life that I need to learn more lessons seeped in trauma.  Of course I hope this is not the case, but hope doesn’t amount to shit in this game

So where’s the moral of this story?  First of all, kudos to the old self for recognizing that the willingness to let it all go – to truly die – is actually a golden ticket.  And even more kudos for having the wisdom to not actually do the deed – to just cultivate that willingness, and continue the game of the dream-life.  Nowadays, I choose to nurture the willingness to detach and let grace lead me where she will.  Pranananda has said to me before – Your life is not your own.  That’s starting to make an amazing amount of sense.  It does not belong to the egoic self that wants to drive the boat.  My life is the divine.  It is not, and can never be, my way.  Because “my”, in that little ego-sense, doesn’t even exist.  And so I shall enter my Tantric meditation tonight, in full willingness to embody my divine-identity Kali, and drop the story of me in the most complete fashion available in this current energy realm I’m swimming in.  That is to say, I’m off to die.  Or at least to practice.