December 15, 2009

The Boy and the Serpent



Once upon a time, there was a beautiful little boy who could always smell the ocean air through his window.
One day when the sun was high in the sky, he went for a walk on the moist, smooth sand. Suddenly an enormous sea serpent, as wide around as a tree trunk slithered up out of the ocean and approached the boy. The boy looked around quickly, and grabbed a long piece of driftwood to try to protect himself from the oncoming serpent. The serpent slithered up the beach, and stopped where the wet sand meets the dry, leaving the boy nowhere to run but into the ocean. The snake opened up it’s enormous mouth, and showed off it’s venomous fangs, big and sharp as sabers. It’s eyes glowed with purpose, and it stared directly into the boy. “Hello, boy” hissed the snake. “What... what do you want?” stammered the boy. “Ah, you sssee...you belong to meee now, boy”. “I belong to no-one!” “Ah but you have always belonged to the sea, you see? And now the sea has come to claim you” “But I want to stay on the land. I don’t want to be claimed by the sea!” “It looks to meee that you belong in the sssea boy. You stand on that wet sand there... almost as much sea as it is earth. There is no line between them.”

This gave the boy an idea. He reached out the end of his stick, and rotated slowly around drawing a circle in the sand. “You see?” He said to the snake, mocking it, “I’m now inside, and you can’t get me!” “Ah, how ingeeenioussss, boy. You are right. I cannot claim you now, but you are trapped insssside.”
The boy went to the very edge of his circle, toward the serpent, and drew another circle from where he was standing. This expanded his enclosed space. He boldly moved toward the edge of his second circle, and drew another. This brought him right to the enormous body of the snake. “How will you pass me now, boy?” The boy wondered about this for a moment. “I can prove to you that I am of the earth.” He said. If I can create three precious diamonds from only this sand, will you accept those as an adequate gift, and let me return to my home?” “Ah yesss.... that would be ssssufficient. But only the depthsssss can produssse diamonds from ssssand. I think you will ssstill be coming with meeee”
The boy took up his stick, and walked to where the edge of one circle crossed another. He drew another circle there. He repeated this for each of the four points where one circle crossed another.
The serpent looked on curiously, but the boy wasn’t done. He then took his stick, and connected the six intersection points along the edge of the inner circle. The serpent’s eyes started to darken, as he suspected a trick, but he kept watching. As his last move, the boy drew three lines into the center of his shape, creating three diamonds.
The serpent bowed his gigantic head to the boy, the boy bowed back, and the serpent disappeared back into the ocean.

The word “shape” is both a noun and a verb. When we draw a shape, we are defining a space. We are giving shape to space. The roots of the word “geometry” are often translated as “to measure earth”, but it could also mean “to define the land”, or “to shape a space”. Humans have been defining spaces for as long as they have been making dwellings. A round tent has an inside and an outside. It says “this is my space, separate from you, and from the rest of the world.” This is much like the boy’s initial circle in the story. However, at some point in human history, we discovered that if you take a shape, and repeat it in a pattern, it can define an infinite space.
Many cultures have infused their lives with these infinitely repeating geometric patterns. In Islamic practice, these repeating patterns display the infinite complexity of the divine. In some religious traditions, such as the Greek, Egyptian, or Christian traditions, the Divine is shown embodied in human or animal form. In the Muslim tradition, the Divine is shown embodied in geometric pattern. Many of these patterns are based on a grid of interlocking circles, as seen in the story. This grid is often called “the flower of life”. By connecting the points where the circles intersect, many shapes and patterns can be defined without the need for numeric calculations. While many intricate patterns can be created by connecting these points in different ways, the simplest pattern is a grid of equilateral triangles, which can themselves yield a surprising amount of complexity.

December 15, 2009
An introduction to a 4/5th grade geometry unit I wrote as a final project for my graduate work at Antioch University.

December 24, 2008

The Seer


I am the Seer, the Knower,

The Seeker, the Shower,
I stand separate, silently
Shape shifting, color changing,
Chameleon
Shadowed, Cloaked,
But Here.
I am the Seer, the Knower,
The Seeker, the Shower,
I hold the space
Create a place
The crucible
For your Burning times.
I am the Witch
The Cauldron
The Vessel
I contain your fire,
Your transformation
Transmutation
Mutate, Change, Transform
Let go of it.
You don't need that anymore.
This Sacred Alchemy
Between you and me
You and He
You and She
Is yours to stand in.
Burn yourself at the stake
Go up in Flame
I will hold you.
Burn yourself
Turn yourself,
Go up in Flame.
Turn your old skin into Fuel, into light,
Light yourself,
Go up in flame.
Rearrange what you know,
What you think you know,
What you know you know.
You know nothing.
You know everything.
Go up in flame.
You are light
You are infinite
Expand.
Open.
Open to that light.
Refract it.
In fact it can flow through you.
Cast rainbows on the world.
You are the King, the Queen,
The God, the Goddess
You are the Light
Cast rainbows on the world.
You are the Seer, the Knower,
The Seeker, the Shower,
You are the light.
Cast Rainbows on the world.

December 1, 2008

Surrender Into Om


Here.
Now.
In this perfect moment, you have found me.

I have no great stories to tell you.
I have no riddles,
No parables to enchant your mind.

I cannot clothe you,
for I am naked.

I cannot feed you.
I have no bread.

I can offer you only my voice,
My tone,
My mantra.

That sound contains all that I have.
I have nothing.
I have all that is needed.

I offer you the gift of surrender.

It is the only thing to teach.
It is the only thing to have,
And with it comes infinity.


Laugh! Sing! Dance!
Drink!
Savor!

This moment is perfect!
Enjoy it!

Taste it, Smell it,
Feel its luscious softness,
Hear its divine laughter.

Smile,
But not for the camera.
You are not performing right now.
Nobody's looking.

Come, play with me in this perfect moment.
Allow yourself to be amazed.
Allow yourself to be in awe.

Everything is perfect.
There is nowhere else to be.
There is nothing to be planned,
Or arranged,
Or solved.

We are here.
Right now.
And it is perfect.


Dance!
Come dance with me, my Beloved.

Let my drum carry your feet,
And together we we will create this moment's perfection.
Let us dance ourselves into ecstasy!

We grasp hands.
We spin and spin and spin.
Nothing exists except each other and our spinning.

Faster and faster,
Our own smiles reflected back in each other's eyes,
Our faces and hearts offered up to the sky.

We fall to the ground, and dissolve into dizzy laughter.


Breathe!
Come breathe with me, my beloved.

Your exhale is my inhale.
I will take those things you no longer need,
And infuse you with those things you find missing.

Oh my sweet Beloved,
This moment too,
Is perfect.

Come lie here with me,
And let us surrender to the Mother.

She will hold us.
She will breathe with us.
She will dace upon us in all of her power and glory.

Come lie here with me,
And we will be transformed.

We will be composted.
We will be consumed.
We will be reborn.

She will take everything you offer to her,
She will absorb it into her dark, mossy dampness.
She will devour your demons if you let her.

Shed yourself into the earth.
Dissolve, and be free.


Bathe!
Come b athe with me, my Beloved.

Come crawl to the River.
Slip with me into the icy water,
And let it take your breath away.

Come with me beneath the waterfall.

Feel its power and force fall onto your crown.
The water is in your eyes, in your nose, in your mouth.
It is heavy, and cold, and powerful.

Stand in it.
Let it flow through you.

Stand in it,
And become a vessel.

Let it fill and overflow you.
Let it flow from your hair,
And form into streams and rivers on your skin.

Let it fill you, overflow you,
Become a vessel.

This vessel, this bowl,
This crystal chalice that is you has a sound,
A resonance within it.

I will run my finger around you, my Beloved,
And you will resonate with the universe.

The sound that comes forth is divine,
and it is you.

Say yes!
And surrender into
Om.


August 20, 2008

Bolo Bolo, Jaya Jaya!


Serenaded by ancient sounds

I am embraced by the sweet melodies
Of lullabies I only faintly remember
Softly hummed over snug blankets at
Some distant bedtime.


The song swallows my heart in kindness and sincerity.
It breathes a longing and a celebration.
The sounds are part of an unfamiliar language,
But I understand them as clearly as
A kind
glance from a stranger.

"I love you"
"I love you" they sing
"I love you, and you make me smile."

I hear their sounds, their smile, their song
And I am swept away in
Bliss.

August 8, 2008

Found

A good friend once told me
In a moment of my frustration
"Mistakes Evolve"
Words to live by.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Lesson on Creating

Observe Beauty
Do not try to create art.

Each Atom in this Cosmos
Possesses Beauty.

It is the job of the Human
To witness this beauty
And do nothing more than learn from it.

If we try to capture it
As we would a butterfly,
After a long, strenuous chase,
We will end up with a case of wings.

Found as the only entry in an old journal
Dated Tuesday March 13, 4:00 AM (2001?)

August 6, 2008

Surrender


"The eye at the center of Her forehead is wide open, but none can plumb its depths. Its timeless, spaceless recesses exude an invisible nectar that is palpable but unseen. Under its intoxicating influence all beings are experiencing a transcendent Bliss that is indescribable. Excruciating fear and all-attracting Love are both dissolved in that state, which destroys the very idea of division. In the complete oneness of boundless peace, all comes to rest at last in total unity and the primal Goddess returns to Her own abode, the heart of [the God], as suddenly as she came without warning! The "revered spiritual father" who describes this awesome spectacle is no more than a child before Her. Gazing through torrents of blissful tears,

he manages to articulate only a few syllables,
chanting, 'Aum Ma, Aum Ma, Aum Ma', over and over again."

Babaji Bob Kindler
From Twenty-four Aspects of Mother Kali, pg 3-4
1996


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I give. I surrender. I allow myself to be swaddled, to be reduced, to be destroyed and rebuilt. I allow myself to be cared for, and to be loved. I allow myself to not do it all, to not be in control. I surrender and submit to the process, and to the patience.
I fear myself, I love myself.
I fear you. I love you.

I surrender.

Through my tears and frustrations I see you sitting patiently and smiling. You wait. You have seen it before, and are not threatened, or worried, or confused.
You wait and smile.

I finish my thrashing about, and you open your arms to me. I gasp for air, for life, for joy. I release into you, and feel my ego float away from me, carried by the tidal wave of tears. I feel your warmth and softness, and bury myself in it.
I return home,
to the first place I ever knew.
I finally let you hold me.

All I can do is feel you, and breathe into your love.
I whisper your name over and over again.
I know that I am here, and I am safe.


Mom, Mommy, Ma,
Mamma, Mata, Madre, Mother, Ima, Mutter, Moeder,
Nancy, Rose, Norma, Lena,
Lakshmi, Maria, Kali, Durga, Kuan Yin, Freya, Shekina, Mokosh,
Thank you.

Jai Ma!

August 3, 2008

Welcome Home


I am sitting by a wood cooking fire. There are large pots resting on its iron grate, filled with enough stew and rice to feed the entire family. The fire warms my feet, and the delicious smell of the woodsmoke permeates my handmade clothing. The familiar texture of wool and the rythm of spinning fill my hands. As my spindle slowly drops to the ground, I let myself become transfixed by the fire, and am content.

Occasionally, I get up to stir the pots, filled with food and love. I lift the lid, and the smell of the stew wafts into the air and dances with the floating guitar melodies. A half-naked child appears and runs by me giggling. Two men sit on the ground playing a game, and a woman spontaneously starts singing while she chops vegetables.

I return to my seat by the fire, and continue to spin. I am with my family, and I am home.

Vermont Rainbow Gathering
August 3, 2008

July 28, 2008

Holding Court


I sit, and hold court for the citizens of my mind. The thoughts that come tonight are not the nobility of this land, dressed in the fine fabrics of idealism and philosophy. The thoughts that come to my court tonight are the peasantry. They are the farmers and craftsmen, the husbands and daughters, desperate to plead their case before me. Desperate to be heard.


So I let these thoughts track their muddy workboots through my hall, and voice their cases before me. I lend each of them my full attention, and hold them compassionately while they speak. I make them feel that they have been truly heard, assure them that their case will be addressed fully in the morning, and then graciously dismiss them from my hall.

I take a breath, and turn my attention to the next case before me. And so on until I have heard each one in turn, and dismissed each one with equal compassion and detachment. I watch quietly as the last thought turns on his worn heel and pushes his way out through the door.

My hall echoes with stillness. It is empty now, and I sit listening to nothing but my own breath. I briefly fiddle with a well-worn knob on the edge of my seat, pondering what I have heard here tonight. I let it pass and return to stillness. Looking out at the muddy footprints, I smile, sigh, and smell their earthiness.

I climb down from my seat, and begin to sweep my empty hall. These peasant thoughts with their unglamorous complaints are as much a part of this court as the nobility, and I am glad I have taken the time to hear them. I will address some of their pleas in the morning, but for now, the hall is blissfully empty, and I continue to sweep, quietly and happily humming a song as I work.

July 22, 2008

Desires


I want:

To dance

To live in the woods
To be around creative people
To travel
To wear clothes I make myself
To live in a community
To be barefoot
To use what I already have
To have less stuff (no computer!)
To make people around me happy
To foster a love affair between kids and nature
To be glowy!
To stop being a consumer
To be self-sufficient and self-contained
To be grateful for every minute I have here
To live enthusiastically!
To remember to be in Bliss!
To continue to being spiritual
To make new friends
To wear bells
To find people to dance and play with
To be around people who support my lust for life


Good Day



Eyes open

Heart beats
Breathe in
I am
Thank you



July 12, 2008

Learning to Fish



"We have to get a wiggly one"



Inheritance



Casting Out Together



Generations



Learning to Fish
Images of my Nephew and Father

Blue Hills Reservation
July 12, 2008




July 5, 2008

The Road of Beads


My finger travels the road of beads, each repeti
tion of our song another bead, another step, another heartbeat, as I wander deeper and deeper into trance, into the magic of this particular place, with each of these particular people. This moment will never exist again. It is as fleeting as it is eternal. The drums have usurped my feet, which now step a heartbeat, each beat punctuated by
foot
resonating on earth,
bells
jingling on ankles.

I occasionally am drawn out a bit, lured back into the world to glance at friends, to reassure them in their pain. The wailing and sobbing of a friend is a hard thing to bear witness to, but I let it fade. More beads, more footsteps. I fade to black. My voice follows the song, it is as involuntary as the metronome my feet have become. In a moment, it stops. Everything. It all stops. The world drops away suddenly, as if I had just dunked my head into an icy stream, and
I am baptized by stillness.

Exhale.
I am here,
I am nowh
ere,
I am somewhere,
I am everywhere,
I am here.

Inhale.
I straighten,
Taller than I have though
t to stand before.
I profoundly own my height,
my power.
I am here.
I have arrived.
I am here.
I am in my power.

I open my eyes and see these people. I see them. I see each of their glorious faces, lit orange by fire glow, ecstatic in song, lost in their own deepness. I see them, these glorious strangers who have bared themselves, revealed their wounds, shared their joys in the safety of this container of acceptance. I see them, and my heart erupts with compassion. I see each of them. They are each beautiful. I gaze at them one by one and stare in glorious amazement. I just look and look, awed by each of their divine beauties. There are some who meet my eyes, and I watch them register the intensity, the truth, their truth. They look away, and then return wide-eyed.
I smile.
I
see you, and you are so beautiful.

I look again and again, face after face, I meet eyes and smile. They smile back. I love each of these faces unconditionally. I am so happy that each of them is here, and breathing, and smiling. I find myself holding a posture of pouring out. I remember to refill my vessel, and come to a place of holding that vessel upright. I pour it out, giving back this love, and then refill again.
There is no limit to the water in this stream.

I stand solid in my compassion. I embody it, and it embodies me. The drumming shifts and stops. The time for secrets is now. I gaze at the fire and see two perfect eyes, with a fire in each one, and seated yogis at the brow.
Fire and stillness.

I send compassion out into this world,
bolstered by the power and beauty of all of these glorious people.

I heal my mother.
I heal my earth.
I heal myself.
Thank you.

Mendocino California
July 5, 2008

June 30, 2008

Magnetic Words


Breathe Sacred Beauty

Caress the Luscious Whisper
Rain Exquisite Love

Noir
Her Floral Shadow
Slides Through Onyx Velvet Night
Light Post Goddess, I
Scene.

Drunk on Love and Grace
Delicious Sanctuary
Delirious Joy
Chant

Created on Henri and Ashley's Refrigerator
E. Palo Alto, CA
February and June, 2008

June 28, 2008

Shrouded


We healers live shrouded by who we are. We are hobbled by our sight, we drown in all the things we see so clearly. That love, the powerful, forceful river that enters us, and becomes part of our existence, that fills our hearts like the basin of a beautiful fountain, and overflows us, pouring out into the world, that beautiful light opens our trust to the world.
It only takes a couple times of having that trust utterly destroyed that we begin to secret ourselves away, only allowing in a select few, and tentatively at that. We bear our calloused trust as a shield, with the knowledge that we will either come home with that shield or on it.
We sing the song of Prometheus. We give ourselves to the task of bearing love into this world, and we are paralyzed and repeatedly picked apart by our own doubts. People are just humouring me. I'm over reacting. I can't possibly be beautiful. What if this person hurts me? Why is the goal so clear, but the next step so unknown? With every injury it gets so much harder to let the next one in.
I am so desperate to open my heart to the world, but in that heart lives a scared little girl that has seen too much, and been violated and hurt too many times, and too badly. She's built a no grown-ups-allowed fort, but desperately wants someone to discover her and give her a hug.

June 28, 2008

Buddha



Cantor Center, Stanford University, CA
June 26, 2008