World Song

It was a time when stories moved as whales in the silken folds of the ocean.
It was a time when no one was counting or keeping track of time, in that kind of time... there was a song that the waters of life sang, a drinking song, a floating song, a bubbling song... a wordless melody.
Every stone on the pebbly road had a song, every blade of grass, every falling leaf, each creature had a song, each mood and season had a song. This is nothing new you know, it is this way the world over.
     The music of creation rang out in the ears of all who could truly hear. What did they hear?
     They heard a change in the beat and tempo of the world song that was occurring subtly at first and all at once it began to shift into another song, a song that did not sound like music. The sound was that of a disconsolate infant, a loud shrill murmur began to overtake the world song.
    So it was that the skilled listeners were called together to hear the song and invite the music in once again. The listeners gathered in small groups which split off into pairs. The pairs would converse, discuss and argue about the world song. They would collaborate and co-create new riffs to build a clearer song. Each layer of that song was heard and in the hearing the song began to change once again, into a melody that could be at any moment a laugh, a weeping baby, a tree limb falling, a bird diving into water, the rain landing and merging with the ocean, a litter of kittens being born, the kinds of songs may be short lived, the song itself is eternal.

Life is evidence of ....

Long ears and smiling eyes
A mechanical hand
Fealty for life
How can he dance with causeless joy
cradling life
A precious chore
in the sun and the rain shadow
of a well inhabited day
Heartstrings unstung
by humid weather
lets off kilter music arise
the tone of an out of tune piano
and a player sheer delight
at new compositions
of music
that bare fruit
from a tree composed
solely of light

Around a table
a clamor of glasses
 and a cheerful banter
leads to
silences gracious
heart
where stillness
stands
for a moment
until the ocean of conversation
laps again on the tables shore
The long eared, smiling eyed
mechanically handed body of light
winks with a knowing certainty
that life is the evidence of
a great mystery.

A thank you letter to my friends.

In these precious moments of reflection, our laser beam of love is focusing, gearing up to share and receive the sacred offerings tupon and within  the alter of our hearts, about what we are grateful for in this life, in time, in this moment.

We are a symphony, a musically enchanted mystery … we are a  beautiful version of many human instruments coming together to play reveries on life.. a tangible knowing is present, we synchronize and we harmonize... and our hearts have the capacity to make music that causes the stars to weep with ecstatic delight and the angels to dance riveted and nimble, and small growing things everywhere take in a little more light. 

          It's astonishing that we are time and again rediscovering just as the physicist's, rediscovered the mystical understanding of entrainment in wide eyed wonder, when an array of vibrations gather all vibrations raise to the highest... who in essence is setting the precedent for whats possible?

        Knowing deep from within that we are all catalyst for these monumental and incremental potentialities of grace blossoming from the firmament of our souls, so to are we capable of filling this circle with the footprints of gratitude, affirming the beauty of the lives we live...

Thank you, so deeply for your eternal wisdoms, for your clear and full expression of heart-ache and healing, of wholeness and the great mysteries of feeling. Each one of your shares this day will call out a knowing, a remembering of a knowing so pure and undiluted by time, story, or mask. We are the great awakeners, walking gently and in full connection. Weall are teaching the kinds of lessons that make life and death, blush... with each of your ways of dedicating your life to that elevated and yet wholly grounded and inner-sourced self-responsibility. You are each in your own unique ways reweaving the web, dancing alongside Indra and her sacred net, pulsing with an aliveness and a vibrance that signals out to all the ones who long to aid us in our evolution and expressions of love, they are hearing us as we are speaking them from the sacred openings of our mouths. Thank you, for the treasure of our connections, may each one of you realize in your whole being how many lives you are altering, just being in your shimmering presence. I love you all so much it springs up in tears and great expanses of every feeling state imaginable. We've just begun and yet it feels as though we have warmed these stones our whole lives.

Moon pads and dog feathers.

Once upon a slippery snake called time, a bump in the road of history changed directions, All the stories, that Lulu carried cross-pollinated and a whole new world of possibilities went from a seed to a flower and fruited… Here’s the fruit of the matter, are you ready?

Lulu, a nickname derived from the loving heart of a dear and wily childhood friend, stuck as a tack and became forever glued, when the sound of the name replaced the sound of name written on a yellow and green fingerpainted birth certificate.

Lulu started making her own moon pads for her monthly flow, the first time the red visitor made itself known. Lulu’s mom Rachel, bought her fabrics and set her up at the sewing machine. First Lulu practiced drawing spirals and then made a small pillow, sewing it on three sides and then stuffing it with recycled tags from all of her pants and tee-shirts, never really liking how they rested against her skin anyway, this seemed like a good use for a nuisance. Janie, a blue haired and sandy eyed girl Lulu met in Art appreciation class had spoken at length of the beauty of the moon time. For Lulu, who had only heard it called her period, it was a welcome alien awareness to know that women throughout time had actually celebrated the time of the month when blood flowed like water out of the body. (c)

A woo-woo meditation! Women who share freely.

Lets take a deep inhale all together, allowing a cycle of six breaths to pulse through you and draw you deeply into this present moment, as you breath I will be reading a meditation … find ways in which you can expand your human gills, allowing your breath to fill , move and stimulate the energy in your body,

Women are gatheing in cozy homes, cafes and meeting halls, on river banks and city centers, and in the ferny glades of the luscious forests, in jungles and on mountain tops… In mosques, temples, shrines, and offices, women are gathering,

Women who are wholly known, women who dig deep, women who share freely, women who bless and are blessed… women are gathering in meditation halls and outside under cloudless skies, women are gathering in Houses of knowledge and wisdom, women are gathering around hearths, women are gathering in dance halls and yoga studios, in community gardens and organic farms, women are gathering to make laws and create new and old fashion ways and wavelengths for love to arise and shine.

 Women are gathering To make music, women are gathering to create the vision of this world, We are gathering _

This swarms of women gathering are surrounding us at this moment with this sacred work we are all doing together…Take a few deep belly breaths, expanding your energy deep down into the earths molten core—allowing the earth energy to rise up into your being through your feet, up your limbs, into your core, allowing your vital organs to be washed and bathed in the healing light of your focused breath. Expand the earth energy and your entire energy field let yourself become the towering version of you. Raising your body up and into the heavens , right into the heart of the cosmos, breath in star dust and your ancient self, breathe in  allowing your lifeforce to glow inside you awaken any sleep or tight nooks in your body, breathe in expanding your human gills, expanding the space inside and in between your cells..  allowing your breath to fill , move and stimulate the life flow in your whole being. Feel your self welcome in this place, feel your self knowing how to share your power amongst a powerful group of women.

Feel yourself fearless and open….

"This is a gathering of Lovers.

In this gathering there is no high, no low,

no smart, no ignorant, no special assembly,

no grand discourse, no proper schooling required.

There is no master, no disciple.

This gathering is more like a drunken party,

full of tricksters, fools, mad men and mad women.

This is a gathering of Lovers."

n     Jalaluddin Rumi AD 1260

A bite of a baby story- Work in progress

It’s raining and Rebecca is on time. The first happens regularly, the latter is a miracle, to say it simply.  Rebecca arrives in the clinic with a back pack covered in rain, her black leather boots pooling water, enough for water bugs to skate the surface of her wake. The results are coming in. She has gummy cigars, blessingways and baby toes in mind, is it a child kicking around making her ovaries light up like the sky on a full moon night?

“My prayer is that there is at least one baby swimming lazily in my belly” Rebecca says to the nurse who is donning rubbery gloves.

 “I can’t tell you, but I will be able to show you.” Says Gina the ultrasound technician steering the #### over the gelly laden landscape of Rebecca’s belly. As Gina speaks … Rebecca hears her Aunt Lil saying “Show, don’t tell.”

Aunt Lil, raised Rebecca, who came to live with her, when Lil was 35 and Rebecca was 12. Lil had no children of her own to instill her strong array of values too, when Rebecca arrived, Lil’s small and glowing kitchen was laden with vegan cakes, cookies and a watermelon filled with fruit salad, created by Lil for the Buddhist Jewish Community Fundraiser.  (c)

a love poem for my sweetie

Your love is a shake down remedy

It has a way of sculpting my memories

So that every picture in the album of my head

Is covered with the loving light you shed

I am aware of what a gift you are

To have you around

Gives my days such bizarre

And brilliant stories

Little glimmers of glory

To you I do declare

I love that your freedom

Takes you there

To that space where kids gloves

Don’t exist and where its relevant

How much you love and trust yourself

Your love is a translator for the birds and bees

When your around… can hear their sentiment so clearly

Saying it’s this moment or bust

It’s the waterfall or the flood

It’s the power to duck under and feel the pleasure

Cause you’ve trained your whole body to know now

You are ancient melody, your love is the love that

Has rolled through the ages

 all the times

Where there lived poets and sages

You got tin can line

That connects straight to the divine

Your soul makes doubt shudder

It makes fear wanna cuddle

You are a pillar in hoodie

And I’m so glad that I

Get to walk by your side

In the cheery or the dour times

You are the greatest friend of mine

And I praise fate for stitching you into the fabric of my life

I love you because your grand, your so vast an ocean couldn’t comprehend

I love you cause your small and you talk to your worries as if they were dear old friends

So intimate that you’ve learned how to love even the loudest sky is falling hen.

It’s your choices that astound me, how deep your willing to go to help  others set themselves free…

You’ve worked for it and it shows, you’re a billionaire in soul. (c)

A character sketch and outline for my first book.

There are people we meet who live ordinary lives, and there are people we meet who lives of great import that seem ordinary. There are those whose magic oozes off them as if the capacity to enjoy and celebrate life were little crests of the dancing ocean and their salty skin serves as an indicator that they are always riding the waves of a deeply magical life.

       I know so many of them there aren’t enough digits on all our bodies to count, the mushroom clouds of light that blooms forth on these creator beings, that’s not what they would call themselves, when their wiping your tears, or listening fully to your stories, or asking you questions that rattle your soul.

      Many of these iconic people mow their lawns and sweep their floors, and look at you in the eyes when you or they are talking, and they don’t correct your grammar, or finish your sentences, because they are glued to the present moment. They know that you know.

They sit and wait for you to truly know that inside you is a universe as bright and bold as 1000 suns shining. While you in some deeply unknown to yourself way are waiting for the right kind of eyes to see through the blinds and slats of wood hardened feeling covering that well of love.

 Let me see you, they say silently and between their words.

 Let me really know you.

  When you do you’ll come to know yourself better, having been clearly seen.

The mysteries of life are on our lips when we breathe and notice we are breathing.

A tall and formidable character, shaking her hair in the balmy breeze that’s where this slice of pie story begins. 6 friends joined by mutual admiration and the cosmic orchestration of the unending fun they have together. The tall one often growls at the starry eyes of night, saying to those haloed ancestors nesting in their beds of molten light, high above, I’ve got questions, for all you ones, I’ve got questions and I know that because your so high above and so old that you’ve got perspective, I expect you to answer my questions. Though she begins with growling, she crawls into her soft nest satisfied. Having all the question that bubbled up throughout the torrential storms and languid or mellow days, all the questions answered, all the questions accept for telling her who is answering her questions, under the inflorensence of the blushingly beautiful starry nights.

The loud one who you will come to know by name soon enough, literally shakes the earth with her laughter, and wouldn’t know her business from your business, gossip is not a word shes familiar with it’s an action she lives by, it’s a way of life.

To suss out others predicaments and tell tall tails that reach sky high heights and then some is what brings her pleasure, it’s as if your stories are her drug and passing those stories on out loud gets her high. In her group she is loved, because she like every other person has many other dimensions beyond their penchants and pastimes that fold and unfurl inside the complex sanctuary, that is identity. She’s also an incredibly inventive cook, who makes many a mouth water and provides satisfaction to many a grumbling belly.

The prayerful one has gaps in her teeth that let the light of life flow more easily into and out of the sacred opening of her mouth. She speaks the aliveness of life and the electricity she emits makes hair stand at faithful and humbled attention on the arms of those in sight and hearing space of her musings. A rumble of her laughter often surprises those who huddle close for the first time to get  inside the words she speaks, shes really getting inside you, making a fire, boiling tea and resting in her peace in your heart, until your love can’t help but color the room with your delicious frangrance, of a genuine contentedness.

The dutiful one is clutching her hat when she arrives, looking for the right table or wall knob to adorn with her hat upon…. She seems to not take vacations and is always in service, yet she looks as though she is completely here (which she is, I can attest to that) and yet always on vacattion as if this world were easy, compared to where she hails from, as if this were the ultimate simplicity that she has yearned for and that she has found it here and is savoring with every breath, glance and bite ..

The widow walks in markets weaving leaving trailing yarn in her wake, for mere moments until it is swept up and looped into her web of knitting that shimmers as a school of dicroic ( shiny and rainbowish) fish under sunlit water. Her touch is luminescent and her laugh is a head dropping and gently landing on a pillow after working your body all day without rest, until that moment… her laugh is inseperable from the happiness of hummingbirds and a baby’s discovery of its fingers.

She may be a sorrowful widow as Laurence says --- joy and grief share the same bed.

She knows, and her friends have always loved her for guarding what she knows with a faithful and unending love. We all should be so lucky as to know a unconditional self love.

The athlete is lean, strong and relentless, she  is Athena’s progengy though they haven’t met in person, she knows mount Olympus and the greek gods don’t have an official zip codes so all her return to sender letters originally mailed to Athena are an indication of her tireless faith, that she is the offspring of greatness.

Together these women make an incredible team of thinkers, healers, teachers, artists and

Down right remarkable people.

How did they meet? From one’s perspective it was school, in the play yard where the girls diligently planned an escape to admire the beauty of Adelle Ruiz’s rose garden down Mulberry Lane, mere blocks from the school yard, light years away from their current privileges.  A few of them didn’t attend the public school instead they were sent by a short pixilated green bus to the Montessori school across town a long drive and well worth the time in transit, as far as the girls were concerned.

 As the Montessori school and middle school granted the girls incredible freedoms, that would have made the ps school administrators take in more air than is comfortable and often made their friends coo with delight or howl with envy, depending on how far beyond their own boundaries there dear friends were allowed to travel.

    Did they meet at a religious institution or a social function that their parents had individually dragged each one too? According to Tara, the historian of the bunch also called the widow, they met in the nursery as they were all born in the same hospital within hours of one another. By virtue of this astounding coincidence they had dubbed themselves the synchronicity sisters,  which was one of their thousand nick-names.

 Ahava also known as the tall one, recalls the meeting happening in a staggered form much like her favorite childhood toy the Jacobs ladder, one met another, than that one who just been met met another and the second one to have been met met yet another, until it equaled out that they all met each other. Often packs of girls so large tend to be territorial or non-inclusive, that’s not so with these women once girls, many other friends were easily able and welcome to permeate the boundaries and enjoy the company of this fun, interesting and loveable bunch. Boyfriends came and went like seasons, some stuck like gum underneath a low hanging table, others wove in on skateboards, bikes, sporty or rink a dink cars, or on foot and wove out as if a marching army of fire ants were poised and in hot pursuit.

Clem, the dutiful one … whose full name is Clementine, remembers the park near the 6 block radius that connected the dots to each one of there family homes as the stomping ground where their paths all crossed simultaneously and with a reverent and instant bond and lasting bond, that had