• Ho, Earthling!

    Broken

    For a few weeks I’ve been toying with the idea that I am broken. At first I felt resistance to the idea. Who would want someone who was broken? We throw away the broken things. They are unwanted, unloved, undeserving. I decided to take my resistance as an invitation. Go deeper, it whispered.  Okay, broken. What is broken about me? Every step for the past seven months has brought pain. Literal steps bringing literal pain. The cartilage in my hip joints is not what it once was. I am a young woman for this to be happening. Hip degeneration is in my family. When I began a deep martial arts practice…

  • Experiment,  Magical

    Tiger

    “Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?” – William Blake Tiger has come to me. He first made his presence known in a ritual that emerged after weeks of Bagua Chung, a circular practice that feels to me like part dance and part stalking meditation. Tiger kept appearing. Often I rode on his back in the last minutes of the Bagua walk, and he stayed and spoke to me during my meditation afterwards. Eventually I received the message to welcome Tiger more formally into my heart and being in nonordinary reality. I was to give up the power animal who…

  • Magical

    Tiger

    “Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?” – William Blake, “Tiger Tiger has come to me. He first made her presence known in a ritual that emerged after weeks of Bagua Chung, a circular practice that feels to me like part dance and part stalking meditation. Tiger kept appearing. Often I rode on his back in the last minutes of the Bagua walk, and he stayed and spoke to me during my meditation afterwards. Eventually I received the message to welcome Tiger more formally into my heart and being in nonordinary reality. I was to give up the…

  • Ho, Earthling!,  Poetry Slam

    This

    A beautiful wild dream erupted in pink-glowed majesty this morning. Rough white-tipped waves greenblueing between me and the leafy redyelloworange panoply that lay at the feet of Spirit Father as he rose through the mist into a magical glowing golden sky.   This O my father guardian of this watery green and low bluegray on weary feet. O my father this, this blink this gasp this wonder. This is why we come and sing our dreams into the graycloud skies.    

  • Love,  Magical

    He

    He is a good, loving man. I have lived a long time in search of him, of the man who melts me, of the man who loves me like no other, of the man who is himself such a magical being that I weep from the beauty of his magic and from how magical I feel when I am with him. I have lived and I have loved and none of the life or love was like this. Destiny. This man, the one I see my sunset with, the one I see in my dreams, the one I felt and knew and received months before we were ever even in…