Back a week now from an amazing light swirl of dancing and chanting and maraca-shaking at Kripalu’s Sacred Pulse Festival.
My light has dimmed a bit under the weight of email and deadlines and cubicle living. But I can still feel a thrum of life and rhythm awakened. I took a drum class with Mickey Hart, chanted with Krishna Das and the beyond heart-meltingly deelish Donna De Lory and the rockin’ KDZ drummers–so amazing to get down to a good old fashioned Funga–an African welcome song they played at K-town a lot back in the day.
It was just such a rich, layered experience–lake-swimming twice a day, clean food, whirlpool, sauna, belly-dancing, hip-hop dancing and truly incredible teachers. Also made a new friend in the bunk across the way, Jennifer. Hi, Jennifer!
I had forgotten the consequence of getting energy up and moving–feeeeelings. Lots and lots of feelings. I think I wept through most of Donna’s songs. With gratitude for all the grace, with sadness for all that’s lost, just waves of grief and joy and longing for union with something beyond, something sweet, the essence of all sweetness. I started to get close enough to it to miss god again. To want more of that divine juice and presence in my life. It’s almost a dirty word here in NYC, one to be whispered like cancer in Annie Hall.
But yeah, I miss god. And am realizing all that I’m doing in my life is about inviting that force in. I mean of course it’s already in, but at least clearing the channels so I can feel her breath, and even know that she is breathing me.
I’ve been playing a game the last couple of days: spot the god-love. I’ve been looking in people’s eyes walking down the street and trying to spot the god-love. Sometimes it’s just right there, boom, hello you connected, open person. And other times it’s not visible under layers of worry or too-coolisms and yet other moments I can see a glimmer, like rapid eye movement but through an open eye–like something is moving under there that knows what it is. But is under the surface.
Then of course, duh, I realized what I see is going to be really influenced by where I’m at. What would people see in my eyes? Sometimes, yes, great gobs of starry fires connected to the cosmos. Other times stress, worry, glaring, get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way-i-don’t-care-that-you’re-90-and pregnant-and-disabled.
Yeah, there’s a reason one of my summer anthems has been Feist’s “I Feel it All.” I just sometimes wish I didn’t have to feel it ALL. Like wouldn’t I feel better about myself if I didn’t have such potent feelings and thoughts of need and rage and vanity and selfishness? Fuck the benefits of a calm mind, I want a calm ego that likes me, that can live with me, that thinks someone else, well, other people, could live with me if they truly knew me. Which, well, that’s the struggle, no?
The main reason we bushel out our light? (Ok, you know this one, but I forge as a reminder to us both.) Because of this mistaken (I think) belief that we’re too awful to be worthy of such brilliance, right? The “secret” most of us harbor about fundamentally not being good enough. How to bypass that somehow, ignore it and say, fuck it, despite my desire to scream at someone in a meeting, I am worthy of god. Despite my need to be loved and seen and heard that seems excessive and misdirected, I am worthy of god. Despite all the crimes in my head, I am worthy. You are worthy, we are all worthy of tenderness and light and the sweetest rays of love.
Ok, how did I get here? Especially when I should be going through emails about technical glitches and assignments and lists of Buddhist blogs that might be good on Beliefnet (thoughts?).
Closing with a gratitude list. I suggest making them. Often.
In this moment I’m grateful for..
1) The creative writing class I took on Saturday (clearly it’s opened up something!)
2) Almonds
3) Water
4) My scissors with the blue plastic handles
5) That Jenn is back is back from vacation
6) That the market boys gave me all that free squash
7) for my first class at Shambhala yoga and dance yesterday
8) For JJ and KK and baby A and sourdough pancakes
9) For the chat with M about boys and brainwaves
10) For Prince’s “Pink Cashmere”
