Autumn Dusk

It's a restless time of year. Twilit, chilly breeze rattles the blinds while I wander from room to room wondering what to do next. I painted today - did a lot actually, but my spirit never really settled to any task, and when it did, there was a feeling of loss.

No plans, no idea to settle my fingers or entertain my eyes. I don't want to read or watch TV, I don't want to play my guitar or even turn on the lights. I don't want to sleep or eat or talk. Restless...

Maybe when the light is gone I will be calm; silent as the moon.

In My Opinion...

This morning during my meditation I became aware of all my (endless) opinions and how they slow me down and try to blind me. I tend to make hasty opinions that are almost always changed over the course of time. If I could keep them to myself it would be a vast improvement.

This is a favorite defense mechanism that happens when I feel threatened or unsafe - or am taking a risk of some kind. It's just as frequent and stupid on the 'plus' side of it; either way it's a judgement call based on snap-opinion. My ego plays me for a fool with my emotions and it wreaks havoc with self-trust (which does not mean stubbornly insisting I'm right... jeez).

It's one of those things that seems like an impossible, frustrating puzzle whose final piece is always missing. I get very '3' about it (as in years old!). Seriously though, OPINIONS... It's a patience issue; and it's a faith issue. My habit is to think there's something wrong when I'm experiencing circumstances I find not to my liking. There's nothing wrong. This is life! I'm 43, almost 44 and still coming to terms with this.

Recently I was expressing my opinion about some 'injustice' and stopped short, wondering WHY? I have no idea what this other person is going through - but I fear for myself, so I spew about it. For what? Support? Sympathy? I realize each person's journey is just as precious as mine is to me... just as complex, as worthy of care and honor and room to grow as anyone's. So I have to ask myself - 'is my LOVE bigger than my opinion - my likes, dislikes and preferences?' And just asking that question breaks the ice around my heart. With that question, love pours out like molten light and my opinions are suddenly tiny dust motes illuminated by a brilliant sun. Once again the soft, cool breeze cups my face and clears my eyes so I can feel with clarity and remember compassion.

The Incorruptable Path

I've spent the last few weeks clutching blankets of fear and grief to my heart as though they could somehow protect me from having to feel what I've fled. Only to learn once again, there is no escape.

I started painting after months of nothing, knowing, 'if not now, when?'. No inspiration or direction, just action. And I took it despite the deafening cacophony of cautions beating down my battlements.

I forgot that art is the open door, where "I" disappears and the truly magical mysteries express with pure, untainted voices.

In my mind were misty visions of beauty... at least it got me moving. I broke through the precious stage yesterday; where it's pretty, but has no defining feature, no voice, no feeling, but I don't want to 'mess it up or do it wrong'. I decided to just trust where it was going and attempted to add the next piece. My son came home from school and said, "MOM, how did you get your HAND on there?? Is that a DEAD person? It's creeping me out!" and I laughed, knowing I was now free to experiment; to open the door wide, throw caution to the wind - or maybe just gently let it go.

Today came with the realization I don't have to please anybody with this or any painting; that I am graced to know there is a path to and from my heart that is essentially incorruptable when I pick up a brush - or for that matter, write without attachment to outcome. That despite the visions my mind provides to move me along, when I let go of caution, my heart (and all the mysteries of the universe) express - no matter what I may wish was appearing. Other than my child, it is the greatest gift I've been given. My gratitude overwhelms me.

Every time I come home again, my thoughts turn to everyone - all of us.... and I wonder how we all keep finding our own lighted path to trust and share.

Some Days...

sitting waiting here we go again
to school to school every day
what can i say
feeling so sad so misplaced
feeling alone lost
where is grace where is grace
am i just blinded cold and old
with changes
getting harder to bend
harder to fill these empty spaces
yes it will pass it will go it will fade
when i remember
this world to me is a mystery
it ain't that it is this
it is this gotta feel it
gotta taste it gotta live it
so lonely and cold
tell me why is it
am i young by myself in my heart
is it false
what do i need to let go of
maybe the feeling of ownership
maybe the labels i cling to
if i call myself artist or mother or woman
does it bring me worth
what am i without them
me
feel it burning yes i feel it burning
with its own light its own life its own fire and mystery
me
so i sit here and write it and know
we all die
so what is the point please
i need to know
just to live breathe and share what about those who suffer
i've got to name some things as wrong
all in my heart i feel pain
i don't want it
i'll read watch and play till i can't feel at all
will i can i do i make a difference
what if it's all down and down again down
no more i'm too tired exhausted and mired in the
proof of a heart that's too stupid to live in this place
too naive too untrained too beat down
i feel maimed by the living i've done and the
wars that i wage
all that i want is to sit in the love
to sit in the light to live on and on
it's not like that though
we're all going on and it's maybe today or next year
all i know is i'm scared and i'm old
and too young
i'm missing me missing me
come home now i'm scared
please can you stop for a minute let's talk
hold my hand hold this moment
it's over too soon
i'm hurting for family for friends for a heart
that won't hate too much hurt too much
please give me shelter
just for a minute for love and for strength
give me shelter
just sit with me here
till the dawn


mjp

Your Song Is Over Here

I hope you can see now

traveling on different tracks to
a different destination

away from me

You're everywhere now

blooming like a flower and I feel

alone

a little bitter, a little torn,

wishing I'd been with you -

could have helped somehow

The song you sang and sometimes
let me share is over here

it's over here

There's a twister inside me

tearing me open with questions

with impotent rage

Too strong, too empty, too filled with myself

I feel you inside and miss your eyes

familiar like me

where are you now

for my friend

BE

Hopelessness is a lie. It is a lie. When we realize no one is coming for us, our deepest fears are exposed, one by one. The mad scramble of avoidance is eroded as hope of rescue disappears. And what is left?

Our strength. We are always newborns, learning to stand on shaky legs, learning they are strong enough to carry us if we will just use them. Remember your truth, it is the only way to light your path. Be still. Be kind. There is only love.

Good Bye Hello

Finally, finally today I cried about my dad. You know how you can deny something and all the while it's right there, pressing in, giving you less space to move and breathe in all the time? Well...

I'm slowly, so slowly, learning to trust my own timing. I'm just so accomplishment oriented that to be in a state of near paralysis over something, anything (even the death of a loved one), is an open invitation for my ego to bash my self-esteem into some kind of forlorn, bitter submission. Forget it. Just forget it.

I realize (admit) I feel my dad everywhere. It's just that my mind can't comprehend it. I am grieving his passing, bombarded by images I push away before they can have impact. Feeling an overload of conflicting evidence. Mind, heart, spirit - all informed of different truths - all of them TRUTHS. So much to deal with, and I know it's not over, but thank God for this breakthrough.

In this moment, I can see that I was feeling this bigness of my dad with far more comprehension than I would allow because in my sad, needing mind, I was afraid if I really let that in and accepted it, he would go away. If I just didn't look or acknowledge these things, maybe he would stay longer, not leave me - offer more evidence, stay my dad. Oh I'm so afraid to let go. It's the re-realization that I am not in control of this. I'm not in control of this. I have no way to feel him or not feel him or make him stay or any of that. But to reject the gift of it is to reject all that is being given to me. Such gifts of love all the time. Such beautiful people I've met and experiences being offered for me to choose if I can just have the courage to accept them.

My time of timid bravery is over. Let me say here and now, I accept (no matter what evidence my ego so convincingly displays to the contrary) that I am good enough to receive all I hope for, that I am just what I need to be - even when I'm not painting, when I'm not writing, when I'm not grocery shopping. I accept that I am enough in every instance to become what my heart has set forth to be. There is purpose to my heart being here, and being exactly what and how I am - exactly me. I accept that my dad is here now, no matter what may happen next. I accept that he is FOR me - so for me. I surrender, and in letting go I am free once again.

Come See The Paradise

Yesterday afternoon my son came to me upset. He had heard the song from the original Disney animated Peter Pan movie, "What Makes A Red Man Red". Well.... I wisely (for once) kept my mouth shut and opened my ears.

He found the entire thing offensive in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. It bothered him ALL DAY LONG and he was still talking about it when he got in bed. He wanted to know how such a song could be in a movie. He pointed out that it was somehow saying a person could be 'made' a color; that when he thought about the words, they implied human beings are originally something else than 'red' or whatever color... who knows (still keeping my mouth shut), and then something happened and they turned a different color than the original color. Most of all he wanted to know why it matters what color there is at all. Why can't people just be how they are and that's it.

I offered the opinion that we live in a country founded by frightened, paranoid, close-minded, fanatically puritanical murderers - there is so much blood on our hands here, what other option is there but to be racist and believe we are somehow 'superior' - or admit our almost unbearable wrongdoings... We live in our karma here in America. He said it sounds like what Bush says about terrorists.

This spawned an entirely different conversation about religion (could this possibly offend more people?) Again, I listened with my mouth SHUT. And got a completely different perspective than my own. This is what he said:

Religion has torn us from our mother earth. He said that by making people think of 'heaven' and 'future rewards' all the time (not to mention punishment just for being human), we get taken away from the earth that is our home and our paradise. It is easier to wreck the earth because religions teach us that we and it have no true or real value because we're only here for a little while. He says technology is what we have created to destroy ourselves and (his words) feel 'nirvana' but it is a lie. He thinks human beings are very, very destructive and that religion is their number one tool (followed by technology).

I had to ask him to repeat all this several times and explain different things more, because it feels so different from how I thought (or didn't think) about that aspect of religion. Wow. I'm way more naive than I thought. I have been toiling under the illusion that everyone (at their core) is always seeking to enjoy connection and the best outcome for everyone because we are all connected. I mean, I really believe that. To consider religion in this way - that at it's very basis (at least in our western construction of it) is a way of methodically stripping us of our present moment realization that we live in paradise - is shocking. That it teaches us - very slowly and patiently over time, to seek beyond this place we've been given to live, for our fulfillment, satisfaction and (shudder) salvation. INSANITY.

We are here, living on the love of our mother Earth. If you want to use a 'God' construct - there is nothing outside of God. God is Earth. God is me. God is you. God is Everything. Why do we dishonor our mother? We are here - RIGHT HERE - RIGHT NOW! That is truly all there is. There is no 'out there' heaven to reach for. That is not the lesson or we wouldn't be here. Who cares what comes after this? That is not our business! There is no way to know! This is the lesson - be here now. Love. It's all there is. And of course, my desire, my self-given purpose, is to create and experience points of connection wherever it is possible, however it is possible. Take it down to the most 'primitive' points of connection - rhythm, moving our bodies, music, using our voices, story-telling, sharing those simple experiences that the world rushes by and technology (and religion) tell us are the most humiliating, shameful vestiges of being a dirty, 'sinful' human.

But I invite you - take risks, open bigger, connect - you are included. I invite you to practice with me - giving up the need to be right at the cost of everything. To be willing to look (and feel) stupid and silly in order to experience something shining and real. Tell me your secrets - I promise I'll listen. And if you can't use words - there are so many other ways to share. I'll show you what I've learned and you can show me what you have learned! This is where truth and beauty live.

All I Could Find...

...All I could say, was - (do you remember, Nancy?)

"There is no he..."

Over and over again. When it came to "He" - there just wasn't one.

There is a blank, empty space.

Recently I was told my father didn't understand me. That I understood him, but he didn't understand me. I had come to peace with it all. Felt happy, embraced and supported by my father, even - but with that little statement my denial crashed down (faulty, insubstantial mist that it was in the first place), and I am left unsettled, vaguely angry, sad and depressed. Will nothing change?

The items I thought would comfort me are dead, empty reminders of what is NOT; tenuous mental-bonds to something that now, if I can adjust my mind just right, will become a silly fantasy based on what?... Imagination. I choose to experience PROOF - so do your part, Dad. Something for me alone. Indisputable and life-changing.

I've asked 'God' for that too, all my life. Either I'm too narrow in my vision and scope of understanding, or God's an asshole. I'm sick of the notion 'God' knows better than me, what's good for me. I'm sick of my body living here and my mind in some fantasy (no matter how back-corner tucked away it is). What does a person have to do to get some relief?

What makes me think demanding proof from my Dad is going to be any more accessible than proof from 'God'?! Actually, I trust my Dad more than I trust God. I mean, I know my Dad. And even if he didn't 'understand' me, he loved his family more than anything and I know, KNOW, that if he can do something for me, he will. Period. I have trust in that like I've NEVER had in 'God'. I know that like I know I'm drinking coffee right now, like I know I'm alive this very moment.

Fucking faith. I may want to quit, but I can't. I write through the anger and pain and find this glowing little light bulb of HOPE somewhere in the middle of everything. That's me. Where does it come from? Why doesn't it die? I feel like I've lived and it's over. Only I'm still here.

Yesterday I was flipping through the channels and saw Wayne Dyer talking about "The Power Of Intention". It was on for less than one minute, but the words seared into me. He said, "If you are questioning why you are here, what your purpose is, it is because your purpose is trying to connect with you - keep thinking about it! Keep thinking about it, because it has to start somewhere."

It felt like a message to me. That is exactly - to that specific verbage - what I have been thinking about endlessly for days, weeks and months now. It's been a vague rumbling on and off for years - forever, it seems like, but the last few months it has been the single, driving question in my heart, mind, body, soul. Myself is unified in asking, "Why am I here, what is my purpose?"

Every day. Through good times and bad, in sickness and health - you get the idea. It has sickened me. I've thought I've known several times - I don't. I don't know. To hear those words! That it is OKAY to THINK ABOUT IT - that it's GOOD to THINK about it - to KEEP thinking about it!!! That is GREAT news to a person like me - the BEST news!!! My purpose is trying very hard to connect with me - THAT'S why I'm thinking about it so much!

Well, I hope I don't die before I feel I've fulfilled my potential in some way. Whatever 'purpose' there is to be had by me being here, I hope I'm living it regardless of any consciousness of it - but you know what? That's just SHIT. I think being human sucks. I don't want to wait till I'm in some other form, after human death, to go, "Ooooohhhhh - yeah - I should have just relaxed and LIVED! Look how great my life was and I didn't even know it! Wow - I was really a lot cooler than I thought - and more secure - and I didn't need to worry at all! - look at that!" WHAT SHIT!

God IS an asshole. My Dad was too, sometimes. (me too, I know, I know....) Like I said, though, I know that if there is anything at all he could do for me - or any of his family - now, he would and will. He was like that about family. Absolutely and without doubt. So this Father's Day I'll be on the lookout, like every day. Too stupid to see what's in front of my face, no doubt... Like Depeche Mode says, "I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors, but I think that God's got a sick sense of humor and when I die, I expect to find him laughing."

Happy Dad's Day Dad. I love you. You didn't understand me (or any of us?) because you never took the time to look out from between the fused sections of your spinal cord to realize we needed you. Cough up. Your daughter, Molly

Okay, It Matters...

It matters that we are here together.

I'm walking around in a different world and can't quite seem to feel 'here'. Yesterday, as I stood in line at the store, I struggled to be present and somehow could not connect with my environment. Someone spoke to me and I never heard what they said, even though I asked him to repeat himself. Twice.

I'm being attacked by butterflies. I know it's spring and the season and all, and I love them! It's just so odd how they surround me every time I walk from my door to my car. I notice them everywhere.

My head feels fuzzy, and my body numb. It seems like I'm wandering around hypnotized, trying to wake myself with every effort possible. When will this pass? Yesterday I contemplated the numbness and started to cry for no reason I could discern. But there was nothing attached to the emotion - just tears. And those orange butterflies I catch out of the corner of my eye - or the black ones with the yellow-tipped wings - are they angels? Friends? Reminders to be gentle and patient? Or just a sign of a spring season I can't seem to feel against my skin.

Maybe I am asleep and dreaming. All I know is I will choose life and love again and again, even though the fact of my human failures (or so they seem to me) occur and reoccur and it seems I will never get it right. What if every dream is fulfilled and every need met, every soul awake in their connection and every heart welcomed freely and all there is to feel is nothing.

Love. Life. Love. Live...

Choosing To Live

There's no other choice. What does it mean to be committed to something? I'm looking at marriages of people I know, who for some reason keep choosing it over and over and over every day through hell and ever-smaller slices of heaven. But this is not about marriage to another human being. This is about marriage to life.

I sit here. here. - I am here. No doubt about that. And though it tears me, I choose to stay. I can't see why - no rhyme, no reason - no comfort or ease, no direction at all. My world crumbles but I still live. I've got nothing for you at all... nothing for me. Breath still goes in and out.

Sometimes I think I'm my father and that almost kills me. This is irony, truly... almost.

I look at these pictures and paintings and think they are not good enough for anything, not anything. I read the words I write and wonder why I still feel like a desert on fire - not the good, cleansing kind - the endless, exhausting kind. Is it burning away just the bit it means to take, or is all of me burning away with it. I don't know. Right now I'm blinded by dust and ash.

But I'm here still. And I choose that - I choose it and bless it. How can I follow a heart I can't feel? So back to faith... a big circle. Like the cell dividing to create life all over again. It's not difficult at all to comprehend that we are entirely new people every so many years - that our cells regenerate our entirety. The amazing thing is how such a weak creature can keep living. Fragile. Stubborn.

Signs of Life

The Cocoon is Breaking

I don't know what this means. I've surrendered to a force beyond my range of vision. It whispers, "keep reaching...keep reaching..." in a voice I can only feel, not hear. With no promise that motivation, inspiration, vision, dreams or clarity will ever return - ever... I keep reaching. The voice is all I'm interested in now. No willful ripping or trying will show me the way - no determination of mind, no polished skill or feather of cobalt will blaze a path. Just vibration that hints the direction of my hand. My hand outstretched in a posture both giving and receiving somehow.

I stand and listen and reach.

Starting Over (Again)

Does anyone else find coming out of sickness a depressing, difficult experience? It seems like it should be just the opposite, but for me - no. Suddenly I remember all the things I forgot to do, or need to do; it's catch-up and oops! and oh my gosh I need to get to the store NOW.

I've let all the tools of my stability fall by the wayside for a couple of days (at least) and the price is a truly uncomfortable feeling of having fallen off some wagon I didn't even know I was on. Darn it. I guess that's why it's called 'recovery'.

In any case, it definitely feels like a Monday. If I can get through the post-illness feeling of imminent destruction that falling behind gives me, things should be right-side-up in a few days.

Happy Monday, everyone!

On The Mend

Today I felt well enough to take my morning coffee out on the landing and sit for awhile in the sun. The longer I sat, the more I saw. Bees in the bushes, hummingbirds tasting the flowers, a flash of purple here, yellow there. An orange butterfly resting on a rock, slowly waiving it's wings. A squirrel peeking out from the bushes to see if the ducks we feed ('Mesa' and 'Verde') were going to eat their snacks or if he could beat them to it.

And I got to breathe with them. I got to feel the pulse of life that unites everything. I'm so grateful to be alive. All the things... all these things that exist together to sing their joy of being.

Sometimes it's all a mess to me; a confusion I can't figure out. All the things... these beautiful gifts of grace sent like butterfly kisses on the soft breeze. Never to impose, hoping but not needing, to be felt. Always there to catch my heart when my mind has finally surrendered it's pointless distracted interference and can harmonize itself with the endless song of being. Does anyone love being human?

All the things... all these lovely, heartbreaking things.

Congratulations Couples!

Ode To Love

How fickle, love....

My love

As fickle as my heart loves itself

My beloved,

I look upon the mirror of you

and see projected, reflected,

My lover, my friend one moment

A cheap betrayer the next

The object of most poisonous

Rage and intolerance yet the next

They are all reflections of my own

fickle heart...

And when my heart has offered

Itself to the fire enough times,

When Truth becomes the mantra,

The being, the beating, the breath

I see you as you are

And I love you again

Well, another wonderful Soltura workshop has been completed (http://www.soltura.net/) by some courageous couples! Congratulations to all of you. I hope the experience was one of connection and growth that welcomes you to the next adventure in your lives together.

Spring Sickness

Every year I get sick after the whole 'flu-season' is over, and every year it happens just when I really believe I've gotten off free and get cocky about how healthy I am. Big sigh... through my mouth since my nose is to stuffy to breathe through. Blah.

It's almost over though, this illness. I'm babying myself along till I feel human again.

Wishing you health, happiness and whole-hearted heartiness! (creativity is running low - maybe I'm blowing it all out my nose... bluck.)

Privacy

I used to be obssessed with privacy. I hated anyone to know anything I didn't want them to. Then I had my privacy violated - with and without my knowledge in a plethora of ways that left me utterly confused, lost and in despair. I lost my faith in human beings - shocked that anyone would or could do the things that were done to me - that someone would actually choose on purpose to do those things to another living soul.

Over a long, long period of time I began to see and understand how that desperate quest for privacy was, in part, an effort to deny things I've done in my own life that I felt ashamed of. Because of my inability to accept myself, I practically opened the door to some truly horrible experiences and invited them right in. I share these things not with a feeling of bitterness or victimization, but in order to give voice to what I've learned in this long, sometimes painful journey that is not over yet.

I offer this in a spirit of fearlessness and peace because in my heart, there is nothing but compassion for myself and all of us on this journey through our lives. I still have fear about sharing myself, about moving forward, about trusting. The difference is now I know what is in my heart, who I am, that 'me' is someone I can trust.

If you are suffering in the darkness of confusion, pain, loss, fear... please know that my prayers are with you every day. From the depths of suffering endured in my own life, I know and am committed to the offering that no one should ever feel they are there alone.

Evolution

For awhile all my paintings were three or four put together. It's kind of amazing (in hindsight of course), how clearly that style represented the state of my life.

Over time it's evolving into one picture per canvas or paper. It hasn't been a conscious evolvution, just a reflection of the wholeness in my heart.

Mind is so powerful and heart so strong - they are often at odds with each other. The need my heart feels to express, touch and connect is sometimes smothered by the boxes my mind tries to (pointlessly) contain me in. My heart will not be defeated and slowly I'm learning to trust it to light the next step on the path, regardless of seemingly endless obstacles.

To share this journey has required a suspension of judgements; stopping the 'not good enough' thoughts, and that terrible derisive scorn aimed at expressions of me. Slowly I'm realizing my ego does not have to win every battle; that's not the foregone conclusion anymore. In that kind of light, the beauty of your heart and mine can blossom. Maybe what is offered is rough and jagged... sometimes painful and stumbling. Sometimes our hearts are so long unexpressed that its' song comes out clumsy, contrary, wrong! The point is that unless that risk is taken, we will never touch each other.

Sound of Creation

Sing the song of your creation

bright of heart, bright of mind

look into the changing mirror

cherish light and love divine

When you hear the gentle whisper

of your heart, it's song sublime

you will know that we are one

my hand in yours and yours in mine