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.

Life in Analog

It’s one of those days- when it doesn’t feel like I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but rather traveled  to another dimension of myself. Wait, Im awake?

IMG_6428It’s just that I don’t know when I’ll be “me” again. Or if I’ll even know when I get there-like falling into an avalanche and suddenly not knowing which way is up- my internal navigation might be off.

I feel like a satellite pointed into the vast blackness of myself. But there’s too much electronic noise. Signal cant come through. They do say this is the problem with

analog—too much distortion

But I’m not digital. I can’t be digital. There just aren’t enough ones and zeros to color me completely from skin to marrow to soul.

Digital- I know, it’s more efficient. It’s all at our fingertips, everything we could possibly want to know. But the more I know, the less I feel, and that is perhaps my worst fear. I think there might be a direct correlation between how “me” I feel and how much of me I “feel”. It’s so easy to get lost in the doing, the going of life where each day becomes the next and each month the last. We can lose ourselves here, where the colors of life start to all bleed together.

We can all too easily forget who we are and what the fuck we’re here for when everything comes down to just getting it right, having the right information, the best, most calculated course of action.

I can Google every question I might have and fill my mind with more information about any one topic than could ever possibly be proven or peer reviewed, and even then, what does it matter? What does any of it matter if I can’t tell my own truth from another’s opinion?

Im not interested in what you know. Im interested in who you are when you’re naked, not just of clothes, but without judgements, and opinions., free of labels and shoulds’.

But the truth is, we are becoming more like satellites and less like animals. Still, the system we are running this data through is mostly water, this body is mostly body you see, and all of this information it creates insulation- between us and us.

Fillet me open. Take my beating heart and scrub the layers of doubt and fear from these hungry arteries. I know how to do nothing less with this gravity of life than to take the weight of oxygen and let it lift me from the inside out. I know nothing less, than to with prescience and precision,  turn my insides out and feel this world on the underside. What else is there?

I have no interest in the “right way”. No interest in becoming anything. I have every interest in being and feeling and doing this now with the most of me that I can muster. How much of me can I fill into the square inch of this moment. Let’s forget about the next. Let’s forget about the last. Let’s just forget everything. That’s a good place to start- from scratch.

Simplify

I’ve been thinking. In general, just thinking and my mind chasing its own tail, racing around itself on possible choices and the paths those possible choices would create. While in part choice equals freedom, it also can equal being completely arrested by the potentials that “choice” represents.

simplify

I find solace from the chaos of my mind in small acts of relative unimportance.

In cleaning my office, organizing my kids’ artwork, making food for the week. Being decisive in small ways that amount to a larger tangible payoff when combined.

This too, seems to be the illusion of future;  that there is any one choice that supersedes any other. Maybe what you have for lunch is as important as whom you marry. Maybe only because we are equally as guided in both situations and they hold equally as much weight in the unfolding of our futures. They both matter. And they both do not.

I believe we are here to unfurl from the tightness of attachments- to open. To open, open and open more. Each “choice” big or infinitesimally small being a doorway to opening. I think that ultimately this opening is leading us to be free from the attachment of our experience of identity and “reality” itself.  We are thrust continuously into the walls of our own creation only to realize we can reach right through them.

When I feel powerless by the exhaustion of choice I’ve made a habit of slowing down and simplifying. Of cleaning, weeding, and doing the little things that I can experience a direct result from completing. I think it settles the nerves to feel in control, as illusory as this is and as ever evolving as the to-do’s are, we need to feel the reigns between our fingers at times,  in order to release ourselves into the momentum of the galloping horse.

x + y =

There are some things you just can’t quantify- creativity, balance, sense of self, to name a few. We cannot quantify emotion, we cannot quantify joy or fulfillment or apathy. We cannot quantify the meat of what makes us, us at any given moment.

Unlike days, or years, or the GPS of our external environment, our internal environment has no laws or boundaries. It is in reckless rebellion to structure and order.

The stuff that matters live like nomads in the jungle of our souls and who are we to say where the boundaries are? Where one country, one emotion, begins and where another ends?

I feel like I am learning how to be alone again. Maybe it’s that im learning how to accept myself, as me, right now.

Would’nt it be easy if “right now” just didnt change? But that is the illusion, that there is any definition of right now. Right now can only exist in the framework of there being a NOT right now. But we know that doesn’t exist. There will never be a not right now, there will never be a right now, there will just be this element, this essence of our experience at any given quantifiable breath, that we will try to box into a singular moment.

We elude ourselves.We dance between ourselves, we come up for air from ourselves. But we photo (3)will always be sandwiched and sometimes whiplashed-by this experience and trying to describe this experience.

I think that’s where poetry comes in. Poetry IS the threshold. Poetry is NOT the experience, and our descriptors in words and syntax and sounds are only sign posts.  But poetry is the most gallant effort our hearts make at self reflection, or this insatiable urge to quantify self.

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.

You

What do I  want to write about? Truth-the taste of it. Dripping from salted, trembling lips-the kind that moves mountains within us. I want to talk about what It’s like to feel like you’ve hit “rock bottom” only to see the bottom is lined in golden foil and somehow light keeps getting into this darkened room that doesn’t quite live up to it’s reputation.

I don’t want to write about human perseverance, we eat that shit for breakfast. Every morning there is something in us that says “yes” to the mystery of it all. And so, we step into the day in unwavering devotion.

youIts more about what you do when you’ve had to fold. It’s what you do when everything seems to be telling you to STOP but the momentum for more, next, different, still swells in tsunami force within your quaking heart. It’s what you do to slow down long enough to count each line in the road, sometimes each crack in the pavement and trust that this will lead you, still blinded by the unknown.

I want to write about coming home. Coming home to your voice, your truth, and the echo of all that was and is no more. I want to write about coming home to you, only to realize that you’ve been “it” all along.