You Are a Verb

Life is goddamn messy and beautiful and most of all it just is.

It isn’t how we planned it. It doesn’t work out according to our best script with the best cast and most idyllic setting. It happens how it does, and as cliche as it sounds- exactly as it should.

Would I take anything back? Do I have any regrets? Only that in any moment I was blinded by my idea of how it should be, obscuring the absolute perfection of how it was, how it all is.

At any given moment we are given a choice- to be in the moment or be out of it. Maybe more correctly, to be aware of the perfection of all things past and open to all things future and at the same time deeply moved by the momentum of the present, or—to not be. To be stuck.

To be stuck in the way we imagined it should have been, the way we thought it should go, the way it didnt. Fuck that. Fuck all of the past preconceptions of who you thought you were. Like the idea of  “love”, “relationship”, “family”, the idea of “how life should have gone”. What is life if it doesn’t rock you? What is life if it doesn’t slip the foundation out from under you? Only to remind you that the foundation wasn’t real to begin with.

11665454_10206280159717143_6675403578134118180_nGravity is an illusion. We’re all just floating, maybe our feet are seemingly planted on this earth for this momentary time we inhabit it, but life, all of it, all of the vastness of life from single-celled bacteria to every plant and every animal that ever was and ever will be—is floating. We are in space, we are of space. And the most of all that we are,  and all that we’re in, we do not know. We must float in the trust of now.

And what is trust, but to be open? and what is now, but everything and nothing and beyond the capacity that our linear minds can comprehend. What would we be up to if we weren’t drawing this picture as we were living it.

I dont know what is next. I know I am on this airplane and I can feel the next few steps pulling me from my center. I feel packing, and storing my belongings, I feel Boulder, I feel. And maybe that’s it too. Where is there the most feeling? If feeling is energy, like all things are, where is it most concentrated. Move into that, open into that, feel into the feeling that preceded your feeling. Match it, meet yourself. You’re already there.

We will die. We are mortal. But only in so much as we can conceive of this life. Only in so much that we define ourselves by the boundaries of our skin. We are beyond it. Just as time. Just as space. Just as anything that ever was and ever will be. We are looking for that. I see it in the eyes of people looking into the eyes of myself, I see the fire of their soul speaking a language of presence. Momentary, often fleeting, completely beautiful presence. I see it, I feel it, I want nothing more than to sink deeper into it.

Who are we when we are no more? I don’t want my legacy as a headstone. My epitaph should be a spark that when remembered creates remembrance. Let me be a remembrance that there is nothing that wasn’t before and there will be nothing that never was. Let me be a remembrance of self in the purest form that pulls you from your core and slowly surely smoothes the jagged rocks of identity of separate into the roundness of is. Let my spark be creation itself, let my spark be the language that language cannot touch but shortens the distance. Let me be the synapse. Let me be the synapse.

This is the promise I make to myself- I promise to move with you. I promise to release hold of how it “should have gone” to embrace how it’s going. I release you from guilt. I release you from suffering. Those are just a reminder that you are not aware of the perfection of what is. What is. Be with what is.

You are not your life, but you are here to live it. You are not your life, but you are here to LIVE it. YOU are NOT your life, but you are here to LIVE it.

Do you understand that? Can you appreciate the difference. The subtle but magnificent difference?

You are NOT your life. You are NOT a sum of the parts. YOU are not your past. YOU are not your future. YOU ARE HERE TO LIVE IT. The you is the music in creation, the dance in motion, not the instrument, not the dancer.  The real “you” is a verb not a noun.

“You” cease to exist each time there is a reflection of “you”. Then “you” are gone. You are only here, only palpable when there is no “me”, “I”, this, that, other, the pronouns are you’re cue that you are not “you”. The pronouns are your cue that you are not you.

So yes. It’s simple: be. here. now. But still, be where you are,  just be honest and be aware. Because sometimes you will have to take yourself to another place in order to come through another door into yourself. We’re all really just existing as a hall of mirrors. Our lives, our soul’s journey, one hallway to the next.

Sunflowers and Ivy

My son asks, “Why is the sunflower sad?” Somehow already knowing that when we pluck the IMG_5157pretty things we love and reinvent them in a vase, a container, a set of definitions- they are already dead.

It is so much more about what we don’t know, rather than what we do. When we “don’t know” we are vulnerable but we are also free- this quality is the radiance of youth.

Our culture is founded so strongly on the attainment of knowledge of knowing and understanding more and more and more. We climb the ladder of knowledge that is strangled in the  ivy of “success”, “accomplishment”, “self worth”. Only to look down periodically at a beautiful landscape of billion colors that is getting farther and farther away all the while the air is getting thinner and thinner where we are headed.

And still too, this is a juxtaposition. The more we know the less free we are to create in some ways. And, at the same time,  words and the innate defining of our lives- gives shape to this amorphous experience of who we are and how we fit into the world within us that becomes this world around us.

Challenging the Status Quo 101

I think we’ve outgrown the idea that challenging the status quo is wearing spiked collars, dying our hair blue, or getting our tongues pierced.

whyThe real status quo we are being asked to challenge is our beliefs. The ones we don’t even consciously know why we hold. The question “why?” is perhaps our best tool for this.  That single question is the flashlight into the dark expanse of our own belief system, it is what wedges us from the belief we hold and asks us to look at ourselves from a wider lens.

If our beliefs create our reality, we owe it to ourselves to be curious. Each time we use a word such as “right/wrong”, “good/bad”, “acceptable/unacceptable”,“normal/weird”,  we have the opportunity to peel back a layer or two (or twelve) and see what is really there. These adjectives are all too often packing paper to our beliefs, keeping them insulated from who we’ve become.

What if each time we heard our own voice respond in one of these words, we immediately followed with “why?” and allow ourselves to be with whatever discomfort arrises?

As Neil Donald Walsch says, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”  Sometimes we collapse comfort into complacency and “why?” is our opportunity to excavate our truth from the rubble of cultural norms, out-dated patterns and disjointed beliefs.  When we keep ourselves on our own toes with an open mind, we allow ourselves to evolve. Maybe a belief we held at one time doesn’t quite fit who we are now. Life may be happening outside of us but our aliveness is completely up to us. The more awake we are to our choices and why we choose them, the more alive we are, every. single. moment.

Wisdom

photo 4-1To know and be known.  This life—a falling in love with oneself. Deeper deeper deeper. We are mirror images of others, but only in so much to know ourselves more fully. To accept in another—ourselves, we must forgive, as to ask nothing different from the past. We must. Because it is ourselves in this moment we are really allowing.  We are asked, “What would Love say?” and that is truth. Truth is not heard, but felt. We must feel and muster the courage to siphon truth from our bellies and up to our throats. We must allow it to dance onto our tongue and drip from our lips before our mind lassos it up with all the other “is”’s and it goes from crystal to mud. From flame to ashes. For the mind, is the graveyard of wisdom. True wisdom, comes from the gristmill of inner knowing and courage. It waits patiently at the your doorstep for you to arrive home and somehow, always feels like a surprise visit from an old friend.  Wisdom, like water, moves drop by drop, softly shaping the calcified mind into the infinite it always was.