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.

Ayahuasaca ceremonies #19 and #20 are just 2 weeks away.
Just 2 weeks, that’s all I have to prepare, to get centered, to declare my intentions, to face my demons, and to do my best to fully surrender to the process. I wasn’t pious enough during my last journey with her, and I’m immensely humbled this time – gratefully so. I think a part of me (read: the controlling little ego) figured that since I’m such a veteran, being lax on the diet and what not wouldn’t do much harm. And while I don’t actually blame some dismissal of such things for my deep dive into the darkness, I know it didn’t help.

Now – today – I am not a shaman. I am not in any way an expert on Ayahuasca or shamanism. I am just a girl with a calling to know more of myself, and blessed enough to know the path and the people who can help take me there. That feels like such a stronger place to be than the borderline know-it-all who jumped in the last go-round. I am very confident this will help yield even more profound results. In any event, man am I glad I got knocked off that pedestal. The view is much better down here.

The maya-world has been extraordinary as of late. Orion won a court case that’s granted him 50% custody of Hijo, his magnificent, truly Indigo 10 year old son. Every other week, we’ll be a family – fully focused on the well being of a luminous young life. Every other week, Orion and I will refocus fully on ourselves, our healing, our growth. And in every moment, the bond between the two of us just keeps getting deeper. Even still, I feel myself detaching more and more too, which feels so *right*. I don’t live in fear of this vulnerability I have with him. I’m really only aware of how much I love him, and how grateful I am to have every minute we share. Man, this is so magical. I can’t wait to share more of this with Hijo, and to see the ways in which he will continue to be my teacher as well.

The week has not been without its losses – I walked away from a 1.5 year bond with two souls that have a gorgeous vision for a new business venture, but one I found did not serve me, despite my love for them and the incredible humanity the project encapsulates. Those are the hardest ones to turn away from – scenarios that seem so page-perfect, so aligned with the universal greatness, but they just aren’t right for *you*. Or in this case, me. I was not fond of the ways in which it hurt the men I adore, but the decision was clearly heart-sourced, as once I made it, I felt the yes-ness of it flowing through me.

Last night, Orion and I went out to dinner, toasting the incredible success of the day, and the joy we have in every aspect of our Now. At the end of dinner, when just a few sips of champagne remained, he scampered over to sit next to me (our favorite way to dine) – and as our foreheads pressed together and he dug into me with his radiant blue sparklers, I felt within the greatest surge of love I have ever known. Truly. And it wasn’t just an “I love this man,” although make no mistake, that was a huge piece of the smitten pie. I also felt intense love for myself, for Hijo, for all the many, many incredible beings in my life, and of course, God / the Universe as well. The oneness shined back as I gazed at Orion’s reflection. And I was reminded of something my Guru said to me just a handful of months ago -
Kitty, what do you know about love? You don’t even know how to love yourself.

How thrilling to see / feel / know that this is changing.
My next dance with Ayahuasca – that’s what we’ll be going for. A complete shift into self-love. Which I know will just spread me through the cosmos.

Now excuse me while I scoot off to SoCal, visit the Guru, Z, Sister-Friend, Best Friend, Gay Husband, Wonder Twin, and the Healer. Adventure awaits.

“So if i die today
i’ll be the happy phantom
and i’ll go wearin’
my naughties like a jewel
they’ll be my ticket
to the universal opera
there’s judy garland
taking buddha by the hand
and then these seven little men
get up to dance
they say confucius
does his crossword with a pen
i’m still the angel
to a girl who hates to sin”
- Tori, of course

A gaggle of beautiful Amazon femme friends

Well, a few months back, I thought I might get liposuction. Maybe you remember. I reached the pinnacle of my body-hatred and the dam was going to blow. Instead, Sacha came to me and changed my mind. I thought it better to honor her, and leave the lipo for porn stars. She told me someone would love me madly as is anyway, and what a waste, to take some of these beautiful hips away.

Now, of course I would pick the world’s most coveted tattoo artist. It took over 2 months to get a consultation, and my first session won’t be until October of next year. Unless the Universe intervenes earlier, but I’m fine with waiting. On the way to his studio today, I almost left my body. I’ve been having fierce back pain the last 2 days (ironic? not exactly.), and I decided it was time to stop. I put on Datura, a Tori Amos song – one that saved my life in the Amazon. She convinced me to fight for my bliss, and not succumb to the death. I found my rebirth in the long list of plants she channels in that song, and I know it would heal me.

I drove like mad to my appointment, and felt myself rise. I found that place of unconditional love, and locked in with my claws. I felt so unbelievably free and peaceful. Then I found this huge well of adoration, and it was all for me. My love for myself. Most notably, my body. This. . .isn’t a normal occurrence. But I love a man that loves me without abandon, and it’s having an effect. Last night, he said he loved my belly and my hips. Body parts I have previously loathed with such intense disgust, it’s amazing they haven’t shriveled up from the rejection. Today, as I made my way to Zulu, I started falling in love with this little house I live in. I imagined what the tattoo will look like. How excited I am to just go balls out and honor my body and my spiritual identity. I thought I might cry and smear my makeup. I thought it was wonderful that I didn’t fucking care.

Once I arrived, I rather breathlessly told Zulu the tale of my tat. I want Sacha – the most beautiful jaguar you could ever imagine – draped in grand fashion across my back, lounging on a tree with lots of Ayahuasca vines hanging down. All around her will be the foliage of the Amazon. Below the tree will be scattered rocks, etched with Incan symbols for things like Jaguar, Lord, Light, and Renewal. I will incorporate a symbol created by Z that represents who he is – and our oneness.

Zulu got the vision in an instant, and he flipped out over the significance. He knows what this means. He is the man to give my spiritual awakening an artistic and tangible legacy. At one point, he paused from looking at my reference art, and said to me simply – “This is going to be one of the masterpieces of my entire life.”
I believe him. We’re looking at roughly 50 hours of work, and I’m ready. This body of mine, she’s been tortured and ostracized for far too long. It’s time she and Sacha merge in my heart to be a sacred temple. My strength, my light – the force by which I’m able to have this out-of-body moments, travel the cosmos, and come back home.

I’m at a Starbucks in Laguna Hills. I’m waiting for Z to come and share my happiness. We’re having dinner at a PCH restaurant in a few shakes with his business peeps. I’m a part of couple now. It’s a little surreal. All this love.

A bora girl - innocence defined - a queen of the selva (jungle)

There’s a voice in my head who’s echoes travel all the way into my atriums, out my pores, and into the cocoon that surrounds me. She’s always, always talking about how ugly I appear – inside and out, but mostly the exterior views. My body. It used to be so much smaller and lovelier, but even then – well, the voice was just as critical. Try living in LA for twelve years as a 5 10 heavyweight and listen to the backlash in your head. A stupid, lame excuse but it’s my only one. I know better – that’s what hurts so much. I know that the weight I carry isn’t so dramatic, and that I’m lucky to have the body I do, but fuck, it’s little consolation. This hatred has driven me to some alarming past extremes. Eating disorders, fasting, manic workouts – and still, I loathe the results.

I thought over the weekend that my spirit and my body are at war. Each of us, we have a siamese type bond between the two, and it’s obviously advantageous if they get along. My spirit, she’s feisty and strong and a mountain-mover, but she likes perfection. She wants everything just So. And body, she’s fond of the finer things in life, and has always carried more of herself than the spirit thinks is necessary. So they fight. But let me tell you, if I was with a partner that spoke to me the way the voice calls out my body, I’d kick some ass. It’s seriously cruel, unnecessary, and if I’m being really insightful, I know it’s also untrue. And this tough love shit only makes me eat. So there has to be another way.

I’m going back to the Amazon in December, and this will be a major focus. The shaman already cured my migraines (not even the tiniest twinge of a headache since i’ve returned, and just typing that makes me smile from ear to ear), so I believe in his power. I believe that he can help me take all the negative energy pointed inward, analyzing my exterior flaws, and flip it. Dissolve it into the love I know I have much more of, and push it outward, so I can focus on doing good for people. Even myself. This is ridiculous, this constant battle. I know I’m not alone in this, but that doesn’t justify the continuation. It feels like a sickness. But I have to believe there’s a cure.

Fellow traveler from trip 1 JD - gettin’ his drum on in the Bora maloka

I think this is poppycock – an illusion our conscious minds sometimes trick us into believing. That we’re only affected emotionally and physically by the events in our lives and, if we’ve got super-close loved ones, theirs as well. It’s a lie. We’re all a part of the same cosmic energy – every living being. The notion that we can block out the pain of the Middle East and live our lives without that burden is false. We experience empathy every day, every moment, whether we acknowledge it or not. This is why when we launch a war against someone – anyone – else, everyone suffers. Every last living ball of energy.

I was struck by this as I rose this morning and, in preparing to throw on my workout clothes, started feeling an incredible ache. I couldn’t identify it – where were these tears sourced from? And then I remembered the 9/11 wife I saw on TV the other day – a woman still horribly depressed and in denial about the husband she lost in the towers – and I started to cry. Quietly, with more than a little confusion, I had a mini-release. And I’m still misty. I didn’t know this woman, or anyone who perished, for that matter, but we’ve still got so much pain in our culture as a result of that event. It is my belief that the war we’re fighting now wouldn’t be happening without that day. I know it’s not technically related, but that attack turned us into an Us Vs. Them culture, and we’re angry. For good reason. But the eye for an eye thing . . .I wish the world could see it makes us all blind.

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that more and more of us, every day, are going on depression meds, are finding ourselves inexplicably lost. We look for the circumstances in our lives that would explain it, and if we don’t see any, we either make things up or we get angry with ourselves, continuing the spiral. Maybe if we took some of the remaining energy and built a house for a homeless person, made a sandwich for someone starving – anything to give a positive boost – perhaps we could heal too.

I know this sounds idealistic and simplistic, but what we’re doing now isn’t working. Sticking to our own proximities, not letting the world in. I’m just as guilty. I can’t watch the news. I can’t talk much about the war. I don’t want to hear about Darfur and Rwanda and the global warming documentary – it all hurts so much. But I know that just because I won’t let me eyes see doesn’t mean my heart is blind. I cried today for 9/11. I might cry tomorrow for Iraq. It would be nice to know that we were on a path that would eradicate these tears, but that’s just not happening yet. Yet. When enough of us acknowledge this oneness, we’ll have enough of the pain, and rise up. I’m ready.