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Showing posts from February, 2010

Gentle Power

Horse in Light

Oh, gentle power. You appeared in my dreams as a beautiful horse, bronzed by the light of the sun. You looked at me intently, but with an infinite patience, waiting for me to see you. The first thing I noticed was that you didn't fit in among the nightmare that was going on around me--people being hunted, chopped up by machetes, nobody able to run away fast enough. You were silent and steadfast. You remained in one place unaffected by the chaos, as if offering yourself as a quiet power to show me out of the illusion, and into the light, into the safety of knowing that it was the stories that we were telling and holding onto so tightly that were the source of our ultimate terror. Next time when I'm am not awakened by too much fear, I hope to hop on your back and let you take me out of bounds, to let you show me everything I couldn't see before.

Softening

It has been such a gift to be moving through everything that has been coming my way. I feel a lightness settling in.

I feel myself attaching less to the joy of this lightness, knowing that it will be fleeting. I feel okay with knowing that this happy feeling will leave me in time. I feel the joy expand with the ease of this understanding of impermanence becoming part of my experience on a less theoretical level, and on a more practical level.

I feel myself wanting to make life simple. I feel myself wanting to move anyway, and most of all to love anyway. I feel myself wanting to rest longer and longer in a warm pool of compassion and understanding, to be more gentle on others and myself.

I want to join hands with all, even those who dare not make eye contact yet. I think it is easier if we all just close our eyes anyway--and just hold hands--leave the one of the five senses that always gets us in the most trouble behind; the one sense that has the hardest time stepping back before drawing…

Fugue

I love a Bach fugue.

I love working it out at the keyboard. I love how it begins with the delicacy of one voice, proclaiming in simplicity its subject, and is followed by a succession of entries of essentially the same idea, only sung in different registers or modalities, which can't help but change the character of the original voice.

I love how all this interplay creates a spectacular pattern for listening that exists both vertically and horizontally. I love how ingenious it is that the contrapuntal texture can create interest melodically, and as a byproduct, effortlessly create complex harmony. Every note has a purpose and a place. There is nothing lackadaisical about the entry of the voices, or how they are placed together, there to proclaim and to reinforce one another.

I love the episodic material which forms a sort of connecting material or bridge between the canonic entries of the subject, and in my opinion, adds a contrast of lightness. Nothing is proclaimed here. It is the …

Lightness of Step

What if you find yourself all grown up, you've done it all by the book, finding yourself well down the paths of career, marriage, kids, and all of the sudden you've changed your mind. You don't want to do it the same way anymore. It isn't doin' it for you.

What if you find that everything you thought you believed or cared about, looks funny in a different light, and you can't take it seriously anymore, like you could before, which was really the only engine you had propelling you to dot your i's and cross your t's.

Nobody prepares you for this. You've been prepared to do it how you should, how it best has been imagined by others--many, many, others. And if you haven't had this experience of being told, your logic and fear have likely overrided any of these rarer attempts at opening your perspective.

It's kind of like stalling on the highway on your way to the big city, where you are supposed to turn up for work. People are depending on you. The…

Library Moment

I love that on your dusty shelves I can see two books with opposing views. The Illusion of Immortality, reads one, another, The Illusion of Mortality.

How lovely.

I settle in at a giant table. I can spread all of it out before me, and follow it like a map.

I am in solitude up here, sitting at this table. All the thoughts of the ages spanning like their own private ocean to one side of me, pockets of turbulence, pockets of calm, so much to explore within those pages.

To the other side of me, a large window yields to the whim of bursting sunlight, ever so proud to have made it through such heavy cloud cover.

I look to each side. Which should I choose?

Does a choice need to be made? I hear. Need we ever choose between sea and sky?

No, of course not. I love both. I answer. I don't want to choose.

I look at all of those books. I am in love. Then I am overwhelmed.

I could spend all of my days and never explore even a fraction of all of these ideas.

All the highways of thought--I could hitchhike d…

A New Way of Interacting

Image by J. Scott Bovitz

I have been thinking a lot about the ways in which we separate ourselves, and realizing more than ever that, always, it is a cry out for love.

Only, it is suddenly not so simple to answer the cries in others or in myself, at least in the way I once did. More and more I turn it over, realizing that I have no idea what they or I really need. The old ways of thinking seem to be more harmful than helpful. They are often judgemental, reactive, blaming, diminishing and demanding. I find myself turning within, knowing that my emotional reactions are not coming from a peaceful place, but a fearful place.

I find that to truly see, I must look with my heart, and be shown.

As something in Awareness begins to help me loosen hold of my fears, and as I stay committed to wanting to see beyond the illusion, to really see my fellow humans from every angle, and with love, I am led to new ways of working in relationships.

I find that every interaction must feel good to me, whether i…

Flying

Image by J. Scott Bovitz

I have been very aware of the catches in my mind, where opposing thoughts snag at one another, stuck, paralyzed even, from moving through, from moving on.

I've followed each belief all the way down their dark alleys, to find a way of releasing them, but finding that all of them lead to dead-ends, with no doors for release, the brick walls too high and too slippery to climb.

I haven't been able to rely on my own devices. I've had to turn it over. In surrender, in being unafraid to smack hard against the brick walls at full force, I've been surprised not to have felt any impact at all, rather, in my surrender to what is, I am given release. I am lifted up for a bird's-eye-view.

The beauty takes my breath away.

There is release, and ever expanding and understanding of my bounds of thought, and how meaningless they are.

Recently, I have been contemplating how feeling free always comes with the counterpart of feeling imprisoned.

One helps define the o…