Over the last the 2 1/2 years I have poured passion into this blog to figure out how I want to influence and transform the way we live on this planet. It started with the invention of the word recipronomics and The First Law of Recipronomics. It unfolded to musings on the environmental and social impact of our lifestyles ranging from the companies that make stuff and the way we structure them to trends, and (r)Evolution. There are thoughts on business and thoughts on the human condition from different perspectives with ideas to improve the situation.
A fun team building activity got a lot of attention. Somehow obscure terms like resonance made their way into the mix with some sad humor and random connections. The power and perils of declarations stood by taking a stand and a plea for respect with a little advice.
Postings got deeply personal with dreams, visions, nightmares, prayers and the most popular transformative adventure! There was heart break, yearning , romance, and dance.
Now the time has come to move right along to my new venture where I will pour the same passion into my new site, LeadershipSadhana.com and continuation of this quest.
Thank you for your participation on this journey. I am unbelievably honored for your contribution. Please join me in the next stage of (r)Evolution.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Dancing in Relationship, Recovery for Tough Chicks
This weekend I danced with a partner - a real, live flesh and blood partner. In a club no less. It was a bit of a head trip. I haven't danced in a club since my party like a rockstar days. I didn't know what to wear, where to go, how to navigate... hello outside edge of my comfort zone.
I have been on a warrior's path since I can remember. Adventure beyond belief has graced my footsteps. I have traveled the human experience both externally and internally in a way few others are drawn. I have chosen to meet life on my terms, in my way, by myself.
The warrior's path is often lonely. Loneliness has been a price I am willing to pay for freedom and my quest for Truth. My physical body now asks me to explore a new way of being. Community, partnership, relatedness. All of these things confuse me.
Truth be told, I didn't think I would enjoy getting down with another body so close to me. In the last decade the few partner dancing situations I have encountered have felt heavy, like a wet blanket dropped on my dancing soul. My date blew my mind, as he loves to do. He's got rhythm, he's got style. I don't know how to follow.
As I relaxed a little I found myself getting into a groove. Over the night I never really got fully into my groove. I don't know my groove with another. I had a great time trying. I have to remember I'm learning a new skill - it takes time.
Dance is a great metaphor for life, especially for me since dance is my spiritual practice, where I come Home to mySelf. I suspect a lot of partner dancing will teach me to navigate this new era of belonging.
I have been on a warrior's path since I can remember. Adventure beyond belief has graced my footsteps. I have traveled the human experience both externally and internally in a way few others are drawn. I have chosen to meet life on my terms, in my way, by myself.
The warrior's path is often lonely. Loneliness has been a price I am willing to pay for freedom and my quest for Truth. My physical body now asks me to explore a new way of being. Community, partnership, relatedness. All of these things confuse me.
Truth be told, I didn't think I would enjoy getting down with another body so close to me. In the last decade the few partner dancing situations I have encountered have felt heavy, like a wet blanket dropped on my dancing soul. My date blew my mind, as he loves to do. He's got rhythm, he's got style. I don't know how to follow.
As I relaxed a little I found myself getting into a groove. Over the night I never really got fully into my groove. I don't know my groove with another. I had a great time trying. I have to remember I'm learning a new skill - it takes time.
Dance is a great metaphor for life, especially for me since dance is my spiritual practice, where I come Home to mySelf. I suspect a lot of partner dancing will teach me to navigate this new era of belonging.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Surrender and Fear of Commitment
Several years ago, without knowing it, I committed to my life being a Spiritual Journey. Taking this step is one of many fortuitous accidents that continue to shape me. As a seeker I am part of several communities - ones I never fully commit to. My dance with community and humanity is asking to be explored. It is one that confounds me. As a person with serious commitment issues I anticipate this will be a curious journey over the next few years.
I am deeply and wholeheartedly committed to my development as a human being. There is nothing else I can trust with no doubt to commit to. Deep in the recesses of my heart I yearn to belong in the fabric of humanity. It is something that calls me, for my development and my contribution. Through my inner travels I have felt myself fully integrated in the natural world, woven into the thread of all existence. I KNOW in every cell of my Being I am a part of the fabric of life.
Fractured in my experience that doesn't translate to people. I trust rattlesnakes more than people - you always know what to expect with a rattlesnake! There are a lot of practical reasons for this with my history... and some lesson I don't yet know how to learn (stay tuned).
In many Spiritual Traditions surrender to a teacher is part of the process. Being who I am I doubt I will ever surrender to a human teacher (other than possibly a lover) in that way. Teachers are first and foremost human, and therefore fallible. For me to surrender I need a bigger holding environment. In my journey, at this point in time, Life herself is the teacher, the lesson and the gift of practice.
A poem I wrote in May on an experience of surrender - I recognized that a decade of dating addicts was a sign of my lack of trust for Life to provide what I really want in a partner: a Spiritual Warrior who can be Present. My surrender in the end lead to progress on my quest.
How the Light Got In (homage to Leonard Cohen)
I feel like a junkie
With my bad boy lust,
Insatiable hunger
for an adrenaline rush.
Arousal or fear?
I can’t tell the difference
It’s an addicts’ high
Compulsively I seek it.
Life on the razor’s edge, bleeding
The only way I feel a thing
The ritual seduction
with trembling desire:
Cocaine
Whips, chains
The pleasure of pain.
EVERY high ends with a crash
In unfillable emptiness
Left in his wake.
I see him in strangers
Who look nothing like him.
His hungry, strung out eyes
Haunting me
For seven years.
His love playful, generous
Accepting the wild child
more often judged.
He forgot one small thing-
His family.
Etched in my body memory
His head on my chest
“so sorry” for life
That wasn’t meant to be.
Seduced, discarded, dismissed.
Coldplay serenaded the break-up
Renegotiated several times over four years,
Not a sober day among them.
Thin white lines drew me from narcotized sleep
To the sharp, intrusive day
With an emptiness so vast not 100 bodies could fill.
Frequent, intense, fear, pain
A brain wired for addiction by violence
Adrenaline, dopamine
The cycle repeats
With felons and addicts filling the beats
A new face, a new story
A new visit to the empty well.
Seduced, discarded, dismissed.
Heroin his solace,
His imprisonment my salvation,
Recovery my quest.
Cocaine dropped in an instant
With one jarring image.
Addiction to criminal addicts
a longer journey that brings me
defeated and humbled to
Resonance
in a room full of equally broken souls.
God – grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Pathologically self-reliant.
Trust?
Fuck.
I would rather walk
Through burning forests
Slaying dragons
With one long sword.
Pathologically self-reliant.
Hot, wet tears stain my skin
with the discovery
I will be in recovery
For the rest of my life.
Please God, is there another way?
Her lips curve in a knowing smile.
She repeats. Trust.
On my knees, where I never go, pleading.
You know I will DO anything.
If I can just DO something,
I’ve got ninja skills.
Then Trust.
Give me something else I scream
Fists ready for a fight.
I have. Now Trust.
Helpless, a tear laced confession,
“I don’t know how”
In that breath peace washes over me.
Surrender. There’s trust.
I am deeply and wholeheartedly committed to my development as a human being. There is nothing else I can trust with no doubt to commit to. Deep in the recesses of my heart I yearn to belong in the fabric of humanity. It is something that calls me, for my development and my contribution. Through my inner travels I have felt myself fully integrated in the natural world, woven into the thread of all existence. I KNOW in every cell of my Being I am a part of the fabric of life.
Fractured in my experience that doesn't translate to people. I trust rattlesnakes more than people - you always know what to expect with a rattlesnake! There are a lot of practical reasons for this with my history... and some lesson I don't yet know how to learn (stay tuned).
In many Spiritual Traditions surrender to a teacher is part of the process. Being who I am I doubt I will ever surrender to a human teacher (other than possibly a lover) in that way. Teachers are first and foremost human, and therefore fallible. For me to surrender I need a bigger holding environment. In my journey, at this point in time, Life herself is the teacher, the lesson and the gift of practice.
A poem I wrote in May on an experience of surrender - I recognized that a decade of dating addicts was a sign of my lack of trust for Life to provide what I really want in a partner: a Spiritual Warrior who can be Present. My surrender in the end lead to progress on my quest.
How the Light Got In (homage to Leonard Cohen)
I feel like a junkie
With my bad boy lust,
Insatiable hunger
for an adrenaline rush.
Arousal or fear?
I can’t tell the difference
It’s an addicts’ high
Compulsively I seek it.
Life on the razor’s edge, bleeding
The only way I feel a thing
The ritual seduction
with trembling desire:
Cocaine
Whips, chains
The pleasure of pain.
EVERY high ends with a crash
In unfillable emptiness
Left in his wake.
I see him in strangers
Who look nothing like him.
His hungry, strung out eyes
Haunting me
For seven years.
His love playful, generous
Accepting the wild child
more often judged.
He forgot one small thing-
His family.
Etched in my body memory
His head on my chest
“so sorry” for life
That wasn’t meant to be.
Seduced, discarded, dismissed.
Coldplay serenaded the break-up
Renegotiated several times over four years,
Not a sober day among them.
Thin white lines drew me from narcotized sleep
To the sharp, intrusive day
With an emptiness so vast not 100 bodies could fill.
Frequent, intense, fear, pain
A brain wired for addiction by violence
Adrenaline, dopamine
The cycle repeats
With felons and addicts filling the beats
A new face, a new story
A new visit to the empty well.
Seduced, discarded, dismissed.
Heroin his solace,
His imprisonment my salvation,
Recovery my quest.
Cocaine dropped in an instant
With one jarring image.
Addiction to criminal addicts
a longer journey that brings me
defeated and humbled to
Resonance
in a room full of equally broken souls.
God – grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Pathologically self-reliant.
Trust?
Fuck.
I would rather walk
Through burning forests
Slaying dragons
With one long sword.
Pathologically self-reliant.
Hot, wet tears stain my skin
with the discovery
I will be in recovery
For the rest of my life.
Please God, is there another way?
Her lips curve in a knowing smile.
She repeats. Trust.
On my knees, where I never go, pleading.
You know I will DO anything.
If I can just DO something,
I’ve got ninja skills.
Then Trust.
Give me something else I scream
Fists ready for a fight.
I have. Now Trust.
Helpless, a tear laced confession,
“I don’t know how”
In that breath peace washes over me.
Surrender. There’s trust.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Keen Body Awareness is a Double-Edged Sword
I'll start with a confession: I occasionally smoke cigarettes. If you know me this will probably shock you, if you don't and you know my yoga tendencies and health freakishness this will probably shock you as well.
So why do it?
Anxiety. I was blessed with an over-active nervous system which gets me out doing adventurous things... and gives me overwhelming anxiety when I am bound to a desk, bored, lonely or going through a major life change.
At my last Diamond Approach weekend I shared this unusual smokin' tidbit about myself and one of the older ladies in the group (I am the youngest by a generation) said, "why don't you question what the anxiety is about instead of smoking?"
"Well, I smoke a couple of cigarettes every several years so I'm not too worried about it. You don't think I spend every waking moment questioning? That's what I do. 2000 hours of formal training over the last several years means I've got a highly honed skill. Sometimes is best to just let it go and thank the chemicals for their assistance."
As I watch my body rage an autoimmune disorder battle I weep from my tailbone to my toes and through the pores of my skin. Sometimes I compassionately numb the trembling with a cigarette and when I'm lucky with a hug or loving massage. When I experience betrayal I tremble all the way through my Being in the same way, pierced to the core. The double-edged sword is that I no longer have the power to repress or hide from the darkness. This means I experience it and the freedom encapsulated in the process.
The gift in feeling the pain so intensely is that I learn to make decisions that honor me while I yearn for deep, rich connection.
And -
When I watch the sun set or enjoy the company of someone dear to me who is Present as well it is one of the richest blessings you can imagine. I feel the love and beauty permeate through my very Being. I vibrate with the ferocious intensity of Life.
In that I have the opportunity to mirror it back to You. If you have the courage, I invite you to come with me on the road less traveled - you will be more alive and more connected than you could imagine. It's only hard 'cause it's worth it.
So why do it?
Anxiety. I was blessed with an over-active nervous system which gets me out doing adventurous things... and gives me overwhelming anxiety when I am bound to a desk, bored, lonely or going through a major life change.
At my last Diamond Approach weekend I shared this unusual smokin' tidbit about myself and one of the older ladies in the group (I am the youngest by a generation) said, "why don't you question what the anxiety is about instead of smoking?"
"Well, I smoke a couple of cigarettes every several years so I'm not too worried about it. You don't think I spend every waking moment questioning? That's what I do. 2000 hours of formal training over the last several years means I've got a highly honed skill. Sometimes is best to just let it go and thank the chemicals for their assistance."
As I watch my body rage an autoimmune disorder battle I weep from my tailbone to my toes and through the pores of my skin. Sometimes I compassionately numb the trembling with a cigarette and when I'm lucky with a hug or loving massage. When I experience betrayal I tremble all the way through my Being in the same way, pierced to the core. The double-edged sword is that I no longer have the power to repress or hide from the darkness. This means I experience it and the freedom encapsulated in the process.
The gift in feeling the pain so intensely is that I learn to make decisions that honor me while I yearn for deep, rich connection.
And -
When I watch the sun set or enjoy the company of someone dear to me who is Present as well it is one of the richest blessings you can imagine. I feel the love and beauty permeate through my very Being. I vibrate with the ferocious intensity of Life.
In that I have the opportunity to mirror it back to You. If you have the courage, I invite you to come with me on the road less traveled - you will be more alive and more connected than you could imagine. It's only hard 'cause it's worth it.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Seduced
Seduced
by dance.
Again.
I show up
half-naked,
willing.
Who does the seducing?
Me or She?
Does it matter?
No.
Result the same:
Sweaty puddle of bliss.
by dance.
Again.
I show up
half-naked,
willing.
Who does the seducing?
Me or She?
Does it matter?
No.
Result the same:
Sweaty puddle of bliss.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Socially Acceptable Survivor
At an event tonight I saw a woman wearing a "race for the cure" t-shirt with "survivor" proudly displayed along the side. It struck me as odd that some survivor-ship is socially acceptable and other is not. For example if I wore a "domestic violence and sexual assault survivor" shirt in pretty pink or pale blue how would that be received? I imagine it would make people uncomfortable. Surviving violence is no less heroic than surviving cancer yet somehow carries more shame.
Maybe the commercialization of pink ribbons for breast cancer makes it socially acceptable, maybe because the fight of cancer is against nature not man so "united we stand". I would love for someone working in the DV/SA field to commercialize a blue cracked egg that lives in the social consciousness to symbolize the incredible courage and strength it takes to reclaim power after violence.
Admittedly I thankfully have not had to face the battle of breast cancer in my body so I don't know how they compare for sure... I lost one of my dearest friends, the woman who introduced me to Yoga, Patricia Arters, to breast cancer in my mid-20's, the quick decay from vibrant, feisty, strong woman to tired bones was humbling. Her passing precipitated huge changes in my life, it was an inspiration to live more fully. This invitation required divorcing her son. Life has a funny way of opening.
In the midst of my current opening I stand for equal survivor-ship rights. Will you stand with me?
image credits: the eggs are percussion instruments http://b2b.coastmusic.com/ the shirt race for the cure
Maybe the commercialization of pink ribbons for breast cancer makes it socially acceptable, maybe because the fight of cancer is against nature not man so "united we stand". I would love for someone working in the DV/SA field to commercialize a blue cracked egg that lives in the social consciousness to symbolize the incredible courage and strength it takes to reclaim power after violence.
Admittedly I thankfully have not had to face the battle of breast cancer in my body so I don't know how they compare for sure... I lost one of my dearest friends, the woman who introduced me to Yoga, Patricia Arters, to breast cancer in my mid-20's, the quick decay from vibrant, feisty, strong woman to tired bones was humbling. Her passing precipitated huge changes in my life, it was an inspiration to live more fully. This invitation required divorcing her son. Life has a funny way of opening.
In the midst of my current opening I stand for equal survivor-ship rights. Will you stand with me?
image credits: the eggs are percussion instruments http://b2b.coastmusic.com/ the shirt race for the cure
Friday, April 1, 2011
Sex is a Journey not a Destination
Curiously, I peek my head back into the world of dating after a therapeutic reprieve. Interesting world at my door step.
I took to a party what I thought was a simple guideline for meeting people: a decent, healthy human being who turns me on and is available. Not such an easy bill to fill after all. The evening was filled with fun interactions, interesting conversations and DANCING! As the party wound down a kid a decade my junior came into a conversation a friend and I were having about crazy people being good in bed and impossible in relationships. Now, I am experimental and adventurous by nature... and open and expressive. From wild he interpreted easy. On the dance floor he latched on to me and didn't take the hint when I clearly backed away every time he came close. Finally when he physically tried to draw me close to him I pushed back with "I am independent and need a hell of a lot of space" (especially when dancing). By his subsequent behavior (and sharply honed intuition) I knew he expected to come home with me. WTF? I don't know how wild translated in his head to assuming he had rights... and I'm kind of pissed about it, still.
wild does not mean easy
I embrace my wild side. Tattoos turn me on. I relish time with those who have not fully tamed their inner feral animals. The irrational spark of wild unbridled passion ignites a hunger in me. I am experimental and adventurous by nature. This helps push my unique evolutionary envelope. Adventurous experiments also mean I don't follow conventional rules for sexual behavior. That doesn't mean I am easy, in fact I am fucking picky... in my own unique and unconventional way.
More than once when sharing the story of a road less traveled someone (not particularly interesting, sexy, adventurous or wild) hearing that story has tried to kiss, grope or fondle me. I can see how wild would spark desire. After all, I know that feeling myself. What I can't wrap my head around is how they assume that because I push the envelope, I am there for the taking.
I can't entirely blame the guys, I march to the beat of my own drummer, probably not on this planet. I am sure they are expecting something else. Several years ago I did a lot of Muay Thai kick-boxing. Punching was a natural component in my muscle memory. Hours upon hours of practice brought this home. My Muay Thai career started as a women's self-defense workshop through my volunteer work as a advocate for survivors of domestic and sexual violence. I enjoyed the workshop so much I continued training at the facility that hosted the event. Several months into training I was dancing with a girlfriend at a club. I felt unknown hands behind me on my hips. My next memory was drawing my fist back after punching him squarely in the chest. His hands were raised to the side saying "don't hurt me." Another experience in his life taught him this was acceptable behavior, hopefully I rewired a little in his brain.
I still can't make the connection why Joe Shmoe thinks I would have any interest in something so utterly mundane as a random hook-up just 'cause they are there. I think the underlying principle for them is sex, for me it is exciting.
sex should be exciting
Life should be exciting. If it doesn't turn you on why do it (this principle is carrying over into more areas of my life)? The journey is the key. Sex doesn't have to be a sex circus - over rated. It is all about the journey, not the destination. There MUST be passion, desire, thrill, tenderness, riding waves of energy together. There has to be connection. Roaming lips, roaming hands, roaming exploration. When I come to sex I am looking for a shared journey, I can get the destination on my own. What I need a partner for is the surprise, opening new doors of awareness, revealing new things about myself, about how I relate, about what turns me on... in that moment. It changes, frequently. That's part of the thrill of the journey. Maybe that's why I have liked sex with crazy people - there is always an unknown. In the most prominent such relationship, on and off for several years, in my life there were a few things broken - including furniture and my heart. I think this was Leonard Cohen's "there's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." That crack was widened by a betrayal that graciously ended the relationship.
nothing kills passion like betrayal
enough said... no matter the nature of the relationship, honor it passion flows in waves, betray it game over. This can be romantic relationship, friendships or working relationships. Same with yoga practice - if you betray the body, pushing it too far it breaks down. Translated equally to life.
Honor connection, honor life and enjoy good sex.
I took to a party what I thought was a simple guideline for meeting people: a decent, healthy human being who turns me on and is available. Not such an easy bill to fill after all. The evening was filled with fun interactions, interesting conversations and DANCING! As the party wound down a kid a decade my junior came into a conversation a friend and I were having about crazy people being good in bed and impossible in relationships. Now, I am experimental and adventurous by nature... and open and expressive. From wild he interpreted easy. On the dance floor he latched on to me and didn't take the hint when I clearly backed away every time he came close. Finally when he physically tried to draw me close to him I pushed back with "I am independent and need a hell of a lot of space" (especially when dancing). By his subsequent behavior (and sharply honed intuition) I knew he expected to come home with me. WTF? I don't know how wild translated in his head to assuming he had rights... and I'm kind of pissed about it, still.
wild does not mean easy
I embrace my wild side. Tattoos turn me on. I relish time with those who have not fully tamed their inner feral animals. The irrational spark of wild unbridled passion ignites a hunger in me. I am experimental and adventurous by nature. This helps push my unique evolutionary envelope. Adventurous experiments also mean I don't follow conventional rules for sexual behavior. That doesn't mean I am easy, in fact I am fucking picky... in my own unique and unconventional way.
More than once when sharing the story of a road less traveled someone (not particularly interesting, sexy, adventurous or wild) hearing that story has tried to kiss, grope or fondle me. I can see how wild would spark desire. After all, I know that feeling myself. What I can't wrap my head around is how they assume that because I push the envelope, I am there for the taking.
I can't entirely blame the guys, I march to the beat of my own drummer, probably not on this planet. I am sure they are expecting something else. Several years ago I did a lot of Muay Thai kick-boxing. Punching was a natural component in my muscle memory. Hours upon hours of practice brought this home. My Muay Thai career started as a women's self-defense workshop through my volunteer work as a advocate for survivors of domestic and sexual violence. I enjoyed the workshop so much I continued training at the facility that hosted the event. Several months into training I was dancing with a girlfriend at a club. I felt unknown hands behind me on my hips. My next memory was drawing my fist back after punching him squarely in the chest. His hands were raised to the side saying "don't hurt me." Another experience in his life taught him this was acceptable behavior, hopefully I rewired a little in his brain.
I still can't make the connection why Joe Shmoe thinks I would have any interest in something so utterly mundane as a random hook-up just 'cause they are there. I think the underlying principle for them is sex, for me it is exciting.
sex should be exciting
Life should be exciting. If it doesn't turn you on why do it (this principle is carrying over into more areas of my life)? The journey is the key. Sex doesn't have to be a sex circus - over rated. It is all about the journey, not the destination. There MUST be passion, desire, thrill, tenderness, riding waves of energy together. There has to be connection. Roaming lips, roaming hands, roaming exploration. When I come to sex I am looking for a shared journey, I can get the destination on my own. What I need a partner for is the surprise, opening new doors of awareness, revealing new things about myself, about how I relate, about what turns me on... in that moment. It changes, frequently. That's part of the thrill of the journey. Maybe that's why I have liked sex with crazy people - there is always an unknown. In the most prominent such relationship, on and off for several years, in my life there were a few things broken - including furniture and my heart. I think this was Leonard Cohen's "there's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in." That crack was widened by a betrayal that graciously ended the relationship.
nothing kills passion like betrayal
enough said... no matter the nature of the relationship, honor it passion flows in waves, betray it game over. This can be romantic relationship, friendships or working relationships. Same with yoga practice - if you betray the body, pushing it too far it breaks down. Translated equally to life.
Honor connection, honor life and enjoy good sex.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Out of the Comfort Zone, Into the Learning Zone
Last week I got the leadership of the ODAT team (the most entrepreneurial, wild west group within Backcountry) to get out of their comfort zone and learn some new skills: AcroYoga with Amy Olson. We had a ton of fun and learned more about how we work together.
We learned we can stack people four planks high.
...and the importance of communication since the plank stack came tumbling down (not pictured). Since I landed on my face from four high, it still hurts a little when my rad cube mate Steve Perry makes me laugh.
Here we are developing the foundations for the 6-person Super Yogi Mandala. The more complex the configurations the more communication, or the lack thereof, became critical.
All six of us bring it together...
...for the Magic!
After we got all Yogarific we had to "man up" and went to the shooting range for some target practice (very interesting insight for me into the world outside my normal life).
We learned we can stack people four planks high.
...and the importance of communication since the plank stack came tumbling down (not pictured). Since I landed on my face from four high, it still hurts a little when my rad cube mate Steve Perry makes me laugh.
Here we are developing the foundations for the 6-person Super Yogi Mandala. The more complex the configurations the more communication, or the lack thereof, became critical.
All six of us bring it together...
...for the Magic!
After we got all Yogarific we had to "man up" and went to the shooting range for some target practice (very interesting insight for me into the world outside my normal life).
Monday, February 14, 2011
Remember - a message from the Swell
Thursday 7/1
I have had enough of the bugs and heat. The big cottonwood tree at the entrance to my haven has a large branch I believe will be more shaded than my current spot. Further from the creek there should also be less pests wanting dinner from my skin. I gather my pillow and the blue fabric of my cocoon and begin the trek up the road. Under the brim of my sun hat I see them: intruders.
A couple of 4-wheelers lurk unwelcomed around my spot. I am not interested in interacting with human creatures and veer right toward the creek. They must find the appearance of a strange, elusive creature carrying yards of blue fabric around the desert rather puzzling.
A big tree with a thick low branch draws me in. As I walk closer to hang the cocoon a long beautiful silvery snake extends his head then ducks away, more threatening when invisible. I keep walking.
Finally, I find a spot on the ground to rest in the shade. As I extend my limbs, my torso becomes heavy on the earth and I feel the warm support of her holding. Wind brushes over me on her way down canyon, a light caress. Drawing my left hand to my heart I feel the steady rhythm of my pulse while my right searches for the same in the earth. “You have to start with the surface,” she says. I try to push it. No luck. I give in to her, she has more practice and eventually wins. I want to be invited in so I follow. With each breath I explore a new dimension. Lizards scurrying around dry leaves and wind blowing through the brush fade into the heat of the day, still soaring in the shade. The gurgle of the creek grows more palpable as I feel the ridges of dirt on my skin. Breathing, resting deeper I find a cool layer of earth underneath – dark and quiet. Peace envelops my heart as I feel the fluids roam their trails. Traveling deeper, in the stillness of that depth I find it: the same rhythmic pulsing as my own heart beat. In unison with mine! "Remember,” she whispers, “you are home. Remember.” I imagine all the oils to be a part of the lubricating pulse, “remember.”
I have had enough of the bugs and heat. The big cottonwood tree at the entrance to my haven has a large branch I believe will be more shaded than my current spot. Further from the creek there should also be less pests wanting dinner from my skin. I gather my pillow and the blue fabric of my cocoon and begin the trek up the road. Under the brim of my sun hat I see them: intruders.
A couple of 4-wheelers lurk unwelcomed around my spot. I am not interested in interacting with human creatures and veer right toward the creek. They must find the appearance of a strange, elusive creature carrying yards of blue fabric around the desert rather puzzling.
A big tree with a thick low branch draws me in. As I walk closer to hang the cocoon a long beautiful silvery snake extends his head then ducks away, more threatening when invisible. I keep walking.
Finally, I find a spot on the ground to rest in the shade. As I extend my limbs, my torso becomes heavy on the earth and I feel the warm support of her holding. Wind brushes over me on her way down canyon, a light caress. Drawing my left hand to my heart I feel the steady rhythm of my pulse while my right searches for the same in the earth. “You have to start with the surface,” she says. I try to push it. No luck. I give in to her, she has more practice and eventually wins. I want to be invited in so I follow. With each breath I explore a new dimension. Lizards scurrying around dry leaves and wind blowing through the brush fade into the heat of the day, still soaring in the shade. The gurgle of the creek grows more palpable as I feel the ridges of dirt on my skin. Breathing, resting deeper I find a cool layer of earth underneath – dark and quiet. Peace envelops my heart as I feel the fluids roam their trails. Traveling deeper, in the stillness of that depth I find it: the same rhythmic pulsing as my own heart beat. In unison with mine! "Remember,” she whispers, “you are home. Remember.” I imagine all the oils to be a part of the lubricating pulse, “remember.”
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Clarity = Results
This equation resonates DEEP in my experience. The more I know myself (an intimate form of clarity), the more this is true. My burning transformative journey was amped up last summer on my desert sabbatical and the results have been stellar!
The San Rafael Swell, known locally as the Swell holds a truly special place in my heart for holding and transforming me last summer. It is one of the most magical places on this crazy cool planet and the energy will knock your socks off! Last autumn Earth Energy Resources was granted rights to do shale extraction on the land. Gasp!
During my fall break-up I camped on the land again over Halloween - my equivalent of "going home for dinner" to find nourishment and comfort. I set up camp in the dark. My dreams were vibrant and piercing. Equipment, noise, destruction. In the light I saw I had camped by a small airplane and recognized I was an intrusion. I knew I must move quickly and get out of the way. Across the valley I saw a huge operation of earth moving equipment working away and my heart sank. Tears welled through my heart, seeping out of my skin, tearing me open. Trashing, I yelled "no, no, no" until I truly woke up sobbing and shocked. I peaked out of the tent and saw the soft glow of gentle morning light welcoming life in the Swell. She and I have an intimate connection.
I dream of facilitating a conversation with the land via a leadership development retreat involving yoga, meditation, stories under the stars, mountain guides and herbal explorations. The impact of my first run using movement as a leadership catalyst had impact. This event would be earth-shattering healing. My favorite herbalist shared a story where a pharma company gathered plants for medicine in their normal way while medicine men/women extracted them using their traditional ways (ethically, honoring and appreciating the plants). Not surprisingly the chemical constituents from the medicine way were stronger. Intuitively I feel it would be the same results extracting energy resources from the land. She is here to support us. If we learn to live synergistic-ally with her - Powah!
I have guides and teachers on board. I can get connections to celebrity storytellers. I lack a key piece: the leaders of Earth Energy Resources - for now. Working my network I have been developing contacts in the energy industry. It is a long, slow process.
This week I threw my name in the hat for a mini-coaching jam with one of my professional crushes. Defining what I am doing and needing brought clarity.
Yep, Clarity = Results.
Result = The Full Circle Group and a promised introduction by a dear friend who has done a lot of work with them. Cha-Ching. They are the missing piece of my tribe - passion, awareness and well-developed relationships built over years of rockin' results... and experience with the energy industry.
Clarity = Results.
The San Rafael Swell, known locally as the Swell holds a truly special place in my heart for holding and transforming me last summer. It is one of the most magical places on this crazy cool planet and the energy will knock your socks off! Last autumn Earth Energy Resources was granted rights to do shale extraction on the land. Gasp!
During my fall break-up I camped on the land again over Halloween - my equivalent of "going home for dinner" to find nourishment and comfort. I set up camp in the dark. My dreams were vibrant and piercing. Equipment, noise, destruction. In the light I saw I had camped by a small airplane and recognized I was an intrusion. I knew I must move quickly and get out of the way. Across the valley I saw a huge operation of earth moving equipment working away and my heart sank. Tears welled through my heart, seeping out of my skin, tearing me open. Trashing, I yelled "no, no, no" until I truly woke up sobbing and shocked. I peaked out of the tent and saw the soft glow of gentle morning light welcoming life in the Swell. She and I have an intimate connection.
I dream of facilitating a conversation with the land via a leadership development retreat involving yoga, meditation, stories under the stars, mountain guides and herbal explorations. The impact of my first run using movement as a leadership catalyst had impact. This event would be earth-
I have guides and teachers on board. I can get connections to celebrity storytellers. I lack a key piece: the leaders of Earth Energy Resources - for now. Working my network I have been developing contacts in the energy industry. It is a long, slow process.
This week I threw my name in the hat for a mini-coaching jam with one of my professional crushes. Defining what I am doing and needing brought clarity.
Yep, Clarity = Results.
Result = The Full Circle Group and a promised introduction by a dear friend who has done a lot of work with them. Cha-Ching. They are the missing piece of my tribe - passion, awareness and well-developed relationships built over years of rockin' results... and experience with the energy industry.
Clarity = Results.
Monday, January 3, 2011
This is Where I Stand
Sometime around Spring 2007 I began the notoriously painful process of removing my name from the records of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. How it ended up there is as much accident as my birth into a devout practicing family in northern Mexico. This was pre-internet time (yes, there was such a thing) and we were isolated from information that wasn’t filtered through proper channels (presiding patriarchy of the church founded by Joseph Smith, a lecherous gold-digger, in the 1800s). At the age of 20 (nearly an old-maid by community’s standards) I married in the temple not entirely of my free will. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t my heart’s choice and I couldn’t express my desire.
In the poetic beauty of the Yin-Yang of life, within this cage were the stirrings that set me free. My late ex-mother-in-law exposed me to Yoga philosophy, unintendinly teaching me there is more in this wide expansive world than the narrow lense I had been given. I began questioning “Truth” and there were no satisfactory answers in the church system. After 5 ½ torturously long years I filed for divorce. In the process I learned for the first time, at 25, that physical violence was not an appropriate form of affection. It was a fortunate accident to learn. I told a friend about being dragged across my living room by my neck and she shook her head saying, “That isn’t right”. Hmm, I never knew. Nothing in 25 years of wandering this planet suggested anything other than I deserved it. I never thought to question until this blessed shattering of light cracked through. Just as I began to establish my footing, speak my truth, recognize and express my desires the rug of any semblance of stability was cruelly yanked. When I committed the double whammy of evil, divorce and seeking my own truth, I was utterly discarded as a human being. Painfully rejected, judged and shunned.
To say the free fall of the next few years were rough would be an obscene understatement. Disgrace by a small fragment of the world’s population would have been more manageable had I had other connections in the world instead of the deep cultural isolation that had been pressed into me. I ran hard and fast from, with only a vague and foggy idea of to. Drugs and sex as much experimental curiosity as self-medication. No community for solace. No mirror to validate intrinsic worth. Only deep and lonely darkness.
Fortunately a few people held my unraveling threads together. Very, very few but it was enough for survival. Grace. My first sense of being held by a loving Universe was chemically induced. It planted a seed of hope until I could find it again later through the Diamond Approach. After several years of hard work engaging anger, fear and hatred; understanding isolation, abandonment and betrayal; I found strength, courage and love within me. I found a community with an accepting embrace. And I wanted to put the past behind. Severing ties with the Mormon Church was an important part of that process for me. In 2007 I contacted the local church leader and asked for my name to be removed from the records. He graciously apologized for the injuries caused by the congregation (entirely different states but the same body of church). He expressed that it would be a great loss to the church to not have me included in the membership because he recognized the power of my light. He also explained that I would lose all of the blessings of the church.
“Yep, that is exactly what I am fucking hoping for! Do it now, please.” My response was more political yet clearly expressed I had no reservations. He said we had to wait 30-days in case I changed my mind because it would be so much more difficult to become a member again if I took this course of action. “I have contemplated this for several years. Be done with it.” After the interview I waited my 30-days, called for confirmation that my request had been processed and didn’t hear back. Recently, years after I considered the matter done, I got a call from church membership looking for Sandra Arters. I explained that had been my married name and I had requested my name be removed. Very nicely the person on the other end of the line explained I would have to talk to the church leader where I lived again. I wrote a letter several months ago and finally got a response dated 12/26/10:
“you need to understand … the consequences of your action … cancels the effects of your baptism and confirmation (have worked hella hard in ceremonies to undo this already, please), and revokes temple blessings which includes your temple marriage (the primary fucking reason I want this done – he has no rights, not even to the thread of my name. I want this cut permanently).”
I have asked nicely, I have waited, I have been patient. I WILL NOT ASK NICELY AGAIN!
While fuming about this insult, a David Whyte poem, Self Portrait, came drifting through my ears to speak powerfully to my wee funk (buy the CD – he has an enchanting voice):
Self Portrait
It doesn't interest me if there is one God
Or many gods.
I want to know if you belong -- or feel abandoned;
If you know despair
Or can see it in others.
I want to know
If you are prepared to live in the world
With its harsh need to change you;
If you can look back with firm eyes
Saying "this is where I stand."
I want to know if you know how to melt
Into that fierce heat of living
Falling toward the center of your longing.
I want to know if you are willing
To live day by day
With the consequence of love
And the bitter unwanted passion
Of your sure defeat.
I have been told
In that fierce embrace
Even the Gods
Speak of God.
This is the year “the bitter unwanted passion of sure defeat” stops.
2010 was the year of Choice. 2011 is the year of Value.
THIS IS WHERE I STAND.
My name is mine. Not yours, not his, not theirs. My name and what I do with it is my choice. I choose value. If you are in my life, value me. If you don’t, get outta way to make room for those who do.
I may be different and weird, you may not understand me – now or ever, you may not even like me – that’s okay.
I am more powerful than incomplete perception.
You may not get why I choose to live an unconventional life. I don’t care. I make hard choices and not only take the path less travelled, I create it.
I live my life on my terms. I have sacrificed nearly everything for this privilege and will continue to enjoy it. I stand for deep, true honoring of experience.
I know on this wide, complex, evolving planet the world, the part of it that matters, is eager for what I offer – guidance with wisdom, freedom, Truth and sensuality. I walk the fire of transformation and bring light home. If you want this, come with me. It won’t be an easy journey… because it is worth it.
I stand for growth. I stand for evolution. I stand for compassion, connectedness and Truth. I stand for you, and more than that I stand for Me.
This is Where I Stand.
Sandi Longhurst – 1/3/2011, Salt Lake City, UT
In the poetic beauty of the Yin-Yang of life, within this cage were the stirrings that set me free. My late ex-mother-in-law exposed me to Yoga philosophy, unintendinly teaching me there is more in this wide expansive world than the narrow lense I had been given. I began questioning “Truth” and there were no satisfactory answers in the church system. After 5 ½ torturously long years I filed for divorce. In the process I learned for the first time, at 25, that physical violence was not an appropriate form of affection. It was a fortunate accident to learn. I told a friend about being dragged across my living room by my neck and she shook her head saying, “That isn’t right”. Hmm, I never knew. Nothing in 25 years of wandering this planet suggested anything other than I deserved it. I never thought to question until this blessed shattering of light cracked through. Just as I began to establish my footing, speak my truth, recognize and express my desires the rug of any semblance of stability was cruelly yanked. When I committed the double whammy of evil, divorce and seeking my own truth, I was utterly discarded as a human being. Painfully rejected, judged and shunned.
To say the free fall of the next few years were rough would be an obscene understatement. Disgrace by a small fragment of the world’s population would have been more manageable had I had other connections in the world instead of the deep cultural isolation that had been pressed into me. I ran hard and fast from, with only a vague and foggy idea of to. Drugs and sex as much experimental curiosity as self-medication. No community for solace. No mirror to validate intrinsic worth. Only deep and lonely darkness.
Fortunately a few people held my unraveling threads together. Very, very few but it was enough for survival. Grace. My first sense of being held by a loving Universe was chemically induced. It planted a seed of hope until I could find it again later through the Diamond Approach. After several years of hard work engaging anger, fear and hatred; understanding isolation, abandonment and betrayal; I found strength, courage and love within me. I found a community with an accepting embrace. And I wanted to put the past behind. Severing ties with the Mormon Church was an important part of that process for me. In 2007 I contacted the local church leader and asked for my name to be removed from the records. He graciously apologized for the injuries caused by the congregation (entirely different states but the same body of church). He expressed that it would be a great loss to the church to not have me included in the membership because he recognized the power of my light. He also explained that I would lose all of the blessings of the church.
“Yep, that is exactly what I am fucking hoping for! Do it now, please.” My response was more political yet clearly expressed I had no reservations. He said we had to wait 30-days in case I changed my mind because it would be so much more difficult to become a member again if I took this course of action. “I have contemplated this for several years. Be done with it.” After the interview I waited my 30-days, called for confirmation that my request had been processed and didn’t hear back. Recently, years after I considered the matter done, I got a call from church membership looking for Sandra Arters. I explained that had been my married name and I had requested my name be removed. Very nicely the person on the other end of the line explained I would have to talk to the church leader where I lived again. I wrote a letter several months ago and finally got a response dated 12/26/10:
“you need to understand … the consequences of your action … cancels the effects of your baptism and confirmation (have worked hella hard in ceremonies to undo this already, please), and revokes temple blessings which includes your temple marriage (the primary fucking reason I want this done – he has no rights, not even to the thread of my name. I want this cut permanently).”
I have asked nicely, I have waited, I have been patient. I WILL NOT ASK NICELY AGAIN!
While fuming about this insult, a David Whyte poem, Self Portrait, came drifting through my ears to speak powerfully to my wee funk (buy the CD – he has an enchanting voice):
Self Portrait
It doesn't interest me if there is one God
Or many gods.
I want to know if you belong -- or feel abandoned;
If you know despair
Or can see it in others.
I want to know
If you are prepared to live in the world
With its harsh need to change you;
If you can look back with firm eyes
Saying "this is where I stand."
I want to know if you know how to melt
Into that fierce heat of living
Falling toward the center of your longing.
I want to know if you are willing
To live day by day
With the consequence of love
And the bitter unwanted passion
Of your sure defeat.
I have been told
In that fierce embrace
Even the Gods
Speak of God.
This is the year “the bitter unwanted passion of sure defeat” stops.
2010 was the year of Choice. 2011 is the year of Value.
THIS IS WHERE I STAND.
My name is mine. Not yours, not his, not theirs. My name and what I do with it is my choice. I choose value. If you are in my life, value me. If you don’t, get outta way to make room for those who do.
I may be different and weird, you may not understand me – now or ever, you may not even like me – that’s okay.
I am more powerful than incomplete perception.
You may not get why I choose to live an unconventional life. I don’t care. I make hard choices and not only take the path less travelled, I create it.
I live my life on my terms. I have sacrificed nearly everything for this privilege and will continue to enjoy it. I stand for deep, true honoring of experience.
I know on this wide, complex, evolving planet the world, the part of it that matters, is eager for what I offer – guidance with wisdom, freedom, Truth and sensuality. I walk the fire of transformation and bring light home. If you want this, come with me. It won’t be an easy journey… because it is worth it.
I stand for growth. I stand for evolution. I stand for compassion, connectedness and Truth. I stand for you, and more than that I stand for Me.
This is Where I Stand.
Sandi Longhurst – 1/3/2011, Salt Lake City, UT
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