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

The problem with deeply personal tell-all blogs is that if you don’t update them regularly, and you have one of those turbo, everything-happens-everyday lives, it’s tough to know where to pick up again from after even the teeniest of hiatus.  Alas, it’s been exactly three months, and keeeeriste, I’m overwhelmed with things I’ve gotta spill.

There’s Peru.  A three week Huachuma-filled journey.  But that will have to be in zee next send-off, because that’s just not the Now.  It impacted and changed the Now, as every moment does and doesn’t, but it’s not what is currently flowing. . .

What is in the mind’s eye is family life.

I dropped off Hijo and his stepbrother Teller (he reminds me so much of Teller from Penn and Teller, so goes the moniker) this morning at school, and then promptly bursted out with a “OMG I HAVE KIDS!” exclamation.  There’s a whole new sense of love and respect inside me now that I am MARRIED – it’s really hard to describe, and was impossible to anticipate.  I wake up every morning with Orion and say “Good morning Husband – I love you.” And when he calls me Wife, my toes curl and my eyes well up.  And yet, nothing else has changed.  I still egoically fear losing him – that’s not something I dwell on, but the ego is aware she has not “won”.  There is no safety, no resting on laurels – marriage to us means a declaration of how much we love each other, not a promise that we’ll tolerate the other’s unconscious behaviors.  We are still the now-focused couple, holding each other to the standard of greatness, and mirroring back those blasted distortions.  Yet the universe feels different to me now – I’m more in integrity with what this man and his amazing son mean to me, and now they know it too.  Everyone does.  That means something, in a relative sense, and I’m giddy to be in the experience of this reality.

This also means that I am now officially a pilot’s wife.  A few year’s back, I remember joking about how I’d rather have unlimited travel benefits that a huge pile of cash to spend on travel, as that was far less stress.  Way to manifest, kitten-girl, way to manifest.  I am now free to move about the world.  Literally.  And we’ve already done so – I joined Orion on a flight he flew to Shanghai over Thanksgiving.  Hearing his voice on the intercom, I welled up with thoughts of “Husband”, 33,000 feet above the world.  I tallied up in my noggin the estimated amount of air travel I’ve had the incredible fortune of enjoying this year – it’s gotta be close to $100k.  And I’m just getting started.  I shall enjoy this gift to the fullest, and write about every adventure – try and share and articulate the way the world looks from every angle, in every corner.  Sometimes my head gets in the way with ponderings of worthiness, or of “how did this happen” woes, but mostly I just receive this fortune with huge freaking bursts of enthusiasm.  We’re planning a trip to Ireland for a belated honeymoon – that’ll be the first “vacation”, outside of the jaunts I take when Orion flies the plane, that we have in the works.  I always intend to keep my eye on the next destination – that’s the gift of freedom.  It doesn’t get any better for a double air sign.

And here we are, nearing the end of another year – so dubbed the “Year of Adoration” by Pranananda, one of my most cherished spiritual teachers.  Man is that ever appropriate.  As I’ve gotten very serious about the task of falling in love with myself, that has naturally opened up the well of infinite adoration for all those around me, and way way beyond.  It’s also opened up the next round of intimacy issues – and alas, there are still a-plenty.  I froze up at a rolling party just recently, actually – surrounded by beautiful, judgment free folks who just wanted to embrace my being, and instead, I closed down and fled, in a figurative sense.  There is still work to be done with respect to openness.  I still get fucking terrified of balls to the wall intimacy, and I can’t say I really know the whole story why.  I’m also very aware of continuing body image issues, and self-destructive tendencies.  So those get the spotlight yet again.  But with love and compassion this time – not the usual barrage of negative internal banter – that voice that prefers to yell and chastise my every move, rather than make space for all those emotions, and their ever-present counterparts.  Being married helps this all – ego loves being a wife, and takes comfort in what that communicates.  How much Orion loves her / me – well, that helps give us courage to go deep and heal.

Future dates with Huachuma and Aya promise to help unravel these layers all the more, but I won’t wait for those to get busy.  It’s all in the here and now, always always.  Just writing these words helps illuminate the truths all the more, always always.  So good to be back.

Next time, there’s the big Peru update, the last weeks of the Apprenticeship, the big across-town move – man, things never slow down, eh?  Not that we’d want them to.

I’ve made no qualms about how much I love my fantabulous partner Orion from word one – in here, and out in the world.  Meeting him felt immediately enchanting and auspicious, and the only thing that’s surprised me about how true this has become is the absolute infinite level of WOW factor this relationship has.  It really is the quintessential “I love him more every day” type of union.  He gets cuter by the second, more intriguing by the moment, and more treasured with every breath.  Seriously.  That’s not even flowery rhetoric.  But the idea of *marrying* him still felt ghastly and unnecessary – up until about 10 days ago.

Orion and I had talked marriage before, but in a “ewwwww” focused tone.  We’re both divorced, and not in the least bit eager to go through that process again.  I’ve always had big issues with the way society defines marriage anyway, and have never felt that “fairy tale” pull.  I got married the first time around to someone I loved very dearly, but in a youthful, “why not?” kind of impulsive way.  Less than four years later, things were finito.  And I vowed to never say vows again.  (My first mistake, clearly).

Orion is in the same boat, but for different reasons.  In the end, though, we have never felt pulled to the alter, because we never could see the point of it.  Why bother?  We refuse to make any promises outside of what the present moment holds.  Yet as much as we both dismiss the idea of holding on to past stories, we were clearly holding on to tales of what marriage has meant to us. . .in the past.  Something clicked 10 days ago to help us see that perhaps surrendering into what was unfolding (our very favorite past time) might instead be a more fruitful path.

We had just returned from a weekend jaunt to Australia, where Orion flew the big ole plane.  It was a dream trip – 28 lightning fast hours in Sydney, filled with opera house moments, magnificent food, and just an overall fantastic time.  The next morning, we were handling our respective duties, and in he came (to my office) for a chat.  Previously that weekend, we had agreed to file for domestic partnership status via his airline, so I could receive all the benefits possible.  It turns out that process was loaded with hoops – all kinds of ridiculous things to prove we were actually linked (joint credit cards, wills, you name it).  Meh.  We were determined to get past the system, however, so we started making plans for how to tackle each requirement.

Then Orion came back into my office with the strangest vibe.  He started out by saying “This is gonna sound crazy, but. . .” and I could just feel,l hear, sense, taste his beautiful, sincere heart.  I had NO idea what was coming, but he certainly had my attention.  He finished by saying “. . .I think we should just get married.”

I plopped my head on my desk and gasped / giggled / freaked out.  MARRIED?  Weren’t we against that?  And if that was true, why did we both feel so GIDDY at the prospect?

We explored this option in depth for many minutes.  In the end, we were clutching each other’s hands, teary-eyed, giggly, and all kinds of GOING FOR IT.  The door of possibility had opened, and we just melted into the portal.  We realized that of course we could define marriage to mean exactly what it DOES mean between the two of us – not what society has to say.  Of course we can.  We do that with just about everything.  There was no need to “beat” the system – we simply needed to drop our stories, and surrender into what our souls were asking for.  Doing so felt / feels so freaking fabulous, I just don’t have the words.

And so we went about telling all our friends and family – again, naively thinking it would likely be a small affair, but of course we’d invite all our loved ones just in case.  We picked Halloween as The Day, mainly because we loved the symbolism – it’s the one day that everyone acknowledges they are playing a role, even though we’re very mindful those roles are playing out every moment, always shifting – and we just loved the idea of a costumed wedding.  Within days, our inbox and voicemail lit up with loved ones all across the country, each planning to make the trek.  I guess the allure of wedding / Halloween / Vegas is just too much for most to pass up, and we couldn’t be more honored and thrilled.  This is going to be epic.

We’ve got a hefty amount to do between now and the big day, and a 2 1/2 week Peru trip tucked in the middle of that time too.  It’s going to be a wild ride, but it always is with this partner of mine.  Somehow, we’ve fallen on a recipe that just *works* – integrity, self-awareness, a shared vision for true liberation, and the agreement to be with what is, in every moment, and not enforce a clingy sense of “you must stay with me” nonsense on each other.  That, and we’re just bat shit about each other.  It’s magical, and I can think of no better way to honor this beautiful dance than to have a big old celebration with all our favorite people.  We’ll be dressed as Shiva and Shakti – the god and goddess of creation, life, emotion, and all that is.  Fitting and perfect and so way beyond any fairy tale I could have ever conceived of.

It’s fun eating humble pie.  Especially when it results in such a volcano of blissful revelation.  Marriage, bring it on.  I’m ready to chuck all my previous fearful notions, and all the ridiculous conventional pressure and societal sentiment, and create something that works for the two of us, in every moment.  So if you don’t have any Halloween plans, I suggest you come join us for a unique and festive wedding soiree.  Just be prepared for a hell of a lot of sappiness.  It’s true we’re normally cool-as-cucumber Aquarian types, but on THIS day – all rules are broken.

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.

I’m alone tonight – gloriously so.  Orion is flying a trip to Shanghai.  I zipped through a very fun radio interview with Healer this evening on the MetaMystic Radio Show, of which I am now a biweekly co-host.  Been up late working on documentation for the next ZuCamp release, and drinking a bit of wine.  Pandora, of course, has been running in the background, making me gleeful with its targeted selections.  Pandora knows me so well now.  And right at the bitter end, it was nice enough to play The Song – the one I’m just batshit about right now.  A mini anthem of sorts.

The Airborne Toxic Event – Sometime Around Midnight.  Christ all mighty, this is a fucking song.  I’ve listened to it – oh, what, 10 times in a row now?  Found a video of the band playing it on Letterman on YouTube.  Bloody brilliant.  It’s definitely an obsessive song.  By that, I mean – those of us that love it. . .well, we’re freaky about it.  I tend to gravitate to such things, unconsciously.  And this got me thinking.  What is it about such things that make us get so riled up and rabid?

The song is absolutely heartbreaking.  Musically and lyrically, it packs a serious melancholy punch.  In the old days, I realllllly loved this stuff – these kind of songs were just like a really potent bottle of absythne or a killer tab of acid.  Bright Eyes and Tori Amos and Fiona Apple and all the really sullen, channeling, passionately pained peeps – I loved them ever so.  They took me on a ride of indulgence, escapism, and a chance to FEEL – but in a safe way.  Someone else’s emotions, really.  Someone else’s heartbreak.  That’s an illusion of course, it’s ALL our heartbreak, but that’s the game our minds play when they latch on to such things.

Today, tonight. . .I listen to the lead singer’s strained, emotional, destroyed little voice, and I just love him.  Most poignantly, I love the emotion behind his sincerity.  I love it because it’s mine.  Songs about love gone wrong are the norm.  Always have been.  We love everyone else’s heartbreak.  I ascertain these days it’s because, deep down, we love our own heartbreak.  I sure as hell do.  Not necessarily in the moment *sheepish grin* but certainly after the fact.  There’s nothing more in-the-moment, more primal and ALIVE, then those times when our hearts just positively fall apart.  It’s as if those are the only truly authentic moments – when we let down our guard, the stories we imminently carry, and take the time to unleash the beautiful beasts that we truly are.  It’s vulnerability at it’s finest.  It’s so goddamn beautiful.

I used to be a serial monogamist, addicted to the falling in / out of love game.  And with every failed relationship, I let my heart break in dramatic fashion.  Many criticized this process, branding me things like a drama queen.  On one level, that was all true.  On a deeper level, I was dancing with the divine.  God flows throw me the deepest when I just let go, and when the pain of heartbreak railroads me into submission, there is no other path.  I suspect that’s pretty damn universal.  This is why the screeching of lyrics like “You just have to see her, you just have to see her, you know that you’re breaking in two” make so many of us swoon to the point of a pass-out.   Although our relative selves rarely admit it, these are often our favorite moments.  We talk about them, we write about them, we compose songs about them. . .we are them.  More so than the robotic make-believe roles we act out 99% of the time.

This is not to say that authenticity only wears a sad face.  I challenge the notion that these moments are really all that sad anyway.  Yes, in the moment, sometimes they feel unsurvivable – totally overwhelming.  Many a suicide has been facilitated, seemingly, by a broken heart.  But the truth is, broken hearts don’t kill us – the stories around them do.  When we add on a layer of “I can’t live without him” or “This pain is too much for me” – that becomes reality.  The next time you hit this intense emotional place – be it from a failed relationship, the death of a loved one, or just a crazy strain of life circumstances, add in a different story for the event.  Tell yourself – “This will transform me” or “Thank God I get to feel so fucking deeply” or “Finally, finally I get to go into this pain and heal.”

Last week, I let my heart break.  After being around Zen, and watching him battle a potentially fatal bout with cancer, mortality came knocking again.  I watched the pain play out with Orion – consciously or not, we were reacting to this powder keg.  And when my beloved partner and I hit a massive wall of conflict, I escaped to feel.  This time. . .this time, even in the middle of this horrendously painful passion play, I found the part of me that loved it.  Loved the opportunity to drop the facade of “control”, and show a little seemingly out-of-control emotion.  I say seemingly because, it’s very controlled.  In the same way nothing is controlled (man do I love a paradox!)  I loved the opportunity to, as Best Friend would say, Breakdown and Break Through!  Which is exactly what transpired.

I remember, now fondly, my last mind-blowing heartbreak.  The last one I felt while still partially emerged in the illusion of thinking it’s all what it seems / real.  It was gifted to me right as I started awakening to this game.  I had just returned from my first trip to the Amazon, where Ayahuasca had worked to illuminate many of the ways in which I was shutdown and blind.  She had also communicated that the man I was ridiculously in love with – my one and only Seeker – was in fact in a severely narcissistic and toxic phase, and that I would do best by exiting stage left.  IMMEDIATELY.

I had processed this request with sincerity, and was ready to do the deed.  But he had returned from a lengthy stay in Peru, and had come back in a horrific space.  Suicidal, ranting, pain-filled and needy.  I had done what I loved to do with him – put myself last and do anything to assist.  He is / was a glorious being, this Seeker.  So I tried to play the old role of what I deemed a good and worthy girlfriend.

We went to lunch on a Sunday.  It was conflicting and painful in many ways.  We were disconnected, he was angry at what was happening to him – confused by all the very profound revelations he had received in his shamanic adventures.  As was I, but I allowed mine to be diminished in light of his stories – he needed the spotlight.  He always seemed to, but that’s because I was always willing to give it.  We then jetted off to a day time clubbing event where all my friends would be.  I tried to play the role of the dutiful girlfriend, but the newfound authentic fire within was steering me away.  She was seething at his disrespect, his selfishness, his lack of concern for my well-being.  And I was, in part, angry with her – this awakened self that was trying to ruin my love affair. To make me face things I didn’t “think” I was ready for.

After a few hours, watching Seeker get more and more spiteful as the ecstasy that should have melted him made him more callous, the strong girl within finally won.  I feigned an illness and asked for a ride home.  It would be the last time we would see each other.

That next day, I sent him the breakup note.  He lashed out at me in the worst possible way – since I had let him into the insides, he had ample ammunition, and he used every weapon at his disposal.  I wallowed in the most wretched space for three days.  I didn’t leave my bed.  I shutout every last offer of help.  I fantasized about slitting my wrists and disappearing into the ocean.

All the while, the awakened strong one drank up this heartbreak. It was my biggest one, and something told me it would never be like that again.  So I indulged.  And I’m so glad I did.  I let my heart break for every time I resisted such things as well.  At times, I judged myself for the intensity.  Seeker and I hadn’t had that long of a run.  Part of me dictated that this was a mountain out of a molehill.  But somewhere along the way I figured out it wasn’t about him anyway.  Sure, I questioned my actions – what had he really done to deserve this abandonment?  Well, it turns out, he had done plenty.  He had even slept with another woman during our Peru adventure.  I would find that out later – which would give fuel to the tangible reasons.  But those really aren’t the whole story anyway.  Barely even a sliver, really.  This was all about me.

What was happening was simple – I was waking up.  And to do so, for me personally, I had to go through the shadow and darkness, and come out shedding my skin and starting brand new.  I trust I am hardly alone in this journey.  Today, I love Seeker all the more.  I am so, so grateful that he was the catalyst to my awakening.  Through the perceived pain of our separation, I popped my head out of the illusion and found a deeper level of reality.  My instincts were validated.  I got a chance to stand for myself without knowing why.  And I finally really got to shine a light on that destructive self.  All SUCH good things.

Without that heartbreak, I wouldn’t have the beautiful bond I have with Orion.  I wouldn’t have stepped out of the role of my victim stories.  And this is precisely why I think many of us consciously or unconsciously love a good old fashioned heartbreak.  It’s a chance to really get to the heart of what is.  To use the story of the illusion to access the truth of the experience.  Why else would failed love songs be so bloody popular, if deep down we didn’t LOVE the experience of a broken heart?  On the outside, it looks like morbid torture, a really bad time.  But deep down, those of us that survive them – we wouldn’t give them up for all the giggly love-fests in the world.  I’m in a giggly love-fest now – which would never, ever have been possible without the string of Seekers that played that game with me.

Aw, music.  That one passionate, authentic, raw and delicious tune could spur such a tirade of truth.  All righty then, it’s been fun.  I bid thee goodnight.

“And so there’s a change
In your emotions
And all of these memories come rushing
like feral waves to your mind
Of the curl of your bodies, like two
perfect circles entwined
And you feel hopeless, and
homeless, and lost in the haze
of the wine. . .”

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)

I have no business blogging right now.  I’m riding on very little sleep, working insane hours to get a product launched (ZuCamp, if you care to spy), and I have a glass of bubbly in me, so I’m saucy. Indeed.  It’s a little insane how much I’ve taking on lately – June is shaping up to be Crazy and Mad As Hell month.  That’s a grand set of circumstances to test my surrender abilities, and all this “it’s not real, remember who you are” revelations. Yummy.  BRING IT.

Next week, after another Earth Medicine Apprentice weekend, I’m headed to LA with Orion.  Our visit has many reasons, but at the heart of it all, we are going to see his brother Zen.  Zen is deeply immersed in round 3 of lymphoma.  He first contracted the disease at age 19.  He thought he beat it, but it came back a few years later, at the prime of his newfound adult freedom, and it really kicked his ass.  He subsequently developed various drug addictions, and hit that dreaded downward spiral.  Somehow he rebounded, found a fantastic wife, beat the cancer yet again, and settled in for the rest of his life.  Then a month or two back, the cancer returned – more vicious than ever.  It almost took him from us in the early onset – white blood cells tanked, body temp skyrocketed – a death recipe if ever there was one.  But Zen is a fighter, clearly, and he came through again.  Thanks in part to all the incredible healers and prayer-minded powerhouses we employed to get him through.

Zen is currently receiving chemo directly into his spine.  He’s in crazy pain, hazed by all the medication and madness, and really dying to *heal*.  He wants to live, he’s willing to look at why he manifested this illness to begin with, and as such, I have stepped in to help in any way I can as well.  I can’t tell you what this means to me.  I haven’t even met Zen yet – we’ll do the honors next week.  But I have connected with him – deeply, profoundly, infinitely.  He’s Orion’s brother, for Divinity’s sake – it doesn’t get more sacred to me.  Zen allowed me to do some shamanic journeying work for him, and it took me just a few minutes of deep meditation to find his spirit animal and his cosmic energies.  I burst into tears at the meeting actually, because I felt him so profoundly, and I just loved the being I discovered.  Zen is a Libra, to the core, and they, along with Aquarians, are my absolutely favorites.  I saw Zen at age 18, before he ever knew that cancer would be his demon.  He was so devilish and sweet, so vibrant and funny and just balls-out nutty.  And as I meditated with Wolf, his power animal, and this image of Zen, I felt those parts of him that had never changed.  The awareness that still oozed mischief and playfulness.  In those moments, I knew that he could beat this, if he wanted to.  And I promised to do everything I could to help him get there.

Up until these moments, I have been shy about any healing abilities I may or may not have.  Hell, I still am.  I lay no claims to super powers.  I only know I’m a vessel, and that I *want* to be of service in this way.  It seems that’s all it really takes – declare to the universe that you’d like to help heal, and you will find a way to make it so, if your sincerity is unbreakable.  Ever since I was a child, I wanted to help.  At first, it was to be as a psychiatrist, then a neurologist.  Eventually, I gave up to “professional” aspirations and just acknowledged that it was enough to be the friend you could call at 3 AM and spill your guts too.  Later on, as I discovered Ayahuasca, I thought she would only help me heal myself.  But Aya and San Pedro / Huachuma have shown me a different path.  This is my way to service.  Humility, although an absolutely Godly treat, need not be the only focus when one is ready to heal.  I have been hiding behind an “I’m not ready” veil.  But tell that to someone whose hourglass is dribbling down to the last grains of sand.  Zen needs help, and he doesn’t have time for my modesty.  And so I’m so honored to just step it up and say – OK, let’s do this.  Let’s heal.  I don’t do the work anyway.  I just open myself up to be the vessel.  The best healers get the hell out of the way from word one.  That’s my only job, really, and I can do this now.  For Zen, for Orion – for the Greater Good.  Nothing like jumping into the fire, eh?

When I visit Zen next week, I have in mind some radical approaches, should he be willing.  I should say, should I be willing.  I’m still a little freaked out by taking ownership of this, as the stakes. . .couldn’t be higher.  But I keep seeing visions of how I can help Zen help himself, and who am I to hide behind my fear of inadequacy, when someone just wants to live?  I will have employed all my healing partners-in-crime by then, with advice and support beyond measure.  Zen himself wrote me today and said he’s ready for a miracle, that he needs all the super powers Orion and I can muster.  It’s like Aya has been preparing me for such things since the very first sip.  Is anyone ever really ready for such do or die moments?  Likely not.  I’ll do what I have to, with tears of gratitude to boot.

In the middle of all this, I’m also moving into a new home – along with Orion and Hijo.  A marvelous home, with a lush plant-filled back yard and pool.  Orion and I are riding out yet another foreclosure home – this one belonging to my angel ex-boss – we’ll live there until the bank kicks us out.  Then there’s the chiropractor – seeing a new doc (Badger, his actual last name) several times a week to try and fix this years-long wretched pain, and really abnormal spinal curvatures.  It seems like every adjustment stirs up more emotional shit too – like there’s an ocean of things that have been laying dormant inside those disks and nerves, and every crack sends more to the surface.  The Apprenticeship will no doubt be intensely interesting, and this work launch is completely annihilating.  But it’s all so, so glorious.  I have regular moments of staggering clarity.  I’m laughing all the time about the cosmic joke of separation.  I’m feeling immense connections to those I love, those I like, those I dislike – everything everything.  These are amazing times.

I would be lying if I said I was unattached to Zen’s survival, though, and that’s something I’m looking at with a very clear mirror.  Do I want him to live because suddenly I’m involved?  Yes, I suspect that’s part of it – I want to feel like I have some purpose in these spaces, some actual abilities.  That it’s not just my head thinking she’s something something.  Ego is always there, and I see her for what she is.  But I also connected so strongly with how much life this man has left to live.  It doesn’t have to be his time – I know this unequivocally.  He can change his story, with hard work, integrity, and openness.  And what an incredible, immense, beautiful gift that I can carry – the chance to shine a little light.  He has to do the work, not me.  And yet, he is me.  I feel him and I feel our mutual essences.  Zen shows me the parts of me that are both decaying and dying, and dying to live.  These are the money shots in life.  The chances to see the real Truth of what is.  Whatever happens, I know I won’t be looking away.  It’s the kind of challenge I’ve built my life upon.  Heart – stay open, alert, alive.  In those feeling spaces.  I’ll need every tear and every truth I can find.

“Is it real this infusion
Can it heal where others before have failed?
If so then somebody
Shake shake shake me sane
’cause I am inching ever closer to the tip of this scorpion’s tail”

- Tori Amos