I Forgot Who I Was…

I forgot who I was!

This morning, in Yoga,  I remembered…

At least, a part of myself.


I remembered I am strong.

I remembered I am kind.

I remembered I am human.

I remembered I am Divine.


The forgetting…

It happens when I get lethargic and sluggish

It happens when I stop turning inward

It happens when I pay more attention to what others think than what I know.

It happens when I stop my practice.


My practice is to stop hiding in my doing.

My practice is to listen to my body.

My practice is to honor what I hear.

My practice is to love myself enough to do my practice.

Listening to the Whispers

Listen-to-Whispers-of-the-HeartI am learning to listen to the whispers.
My body speaks to me. In fact, it never stops.
When I am asleep, it speaks to me through my dreams.
When I am awake it whispers.

It’s not easy to hear the whispers.
It takes quiet.
I have to stop moving and my mind must be still.
But then, dropping in, ever so closely, I hear them.

The whispers of my body are not heard with my ears.
They are felt sensations coming from the deep recesses of my inner landscape.
They speak to me of my heart longings.
They tell the stories of neglect.

I listen in awe, with high regard for what I hear.
I honor the wisdom of this voice.
I have learned to follow this guidance.
For when I don’t, the whispers become primal howling cries.

No Waiting for Inspiration

Waiting for inspiration, I may never write again
I must write for the discipline of writing
Challenged to find words that excite and inspire
If I stop it won’t be the lack of words that defeats me

So I am here
Wrestling with each line
Embarrassed by my ineptitude
Words on the page preserving my commitment

I know why it is so importanthands on keyboard
Discipline a metaphor for strength
Practice creates mastery
I demonstrate obedience to the Muse

The effort is not satisfying
I am not smiling
I see no humor in this
I persist because defeat pains me more

I have been skipping days
Today would be two in a row
The downhill slide from there could be the end
Her silence as persistent as my effort


Warner Springs Valley

June days of summer
Can barely feel the air
Temperature matches my skin
Sun warms
Breeze cools
Scent of pines, young and green
Comes wafting through the open window.

June nights of summer
Cool mountain air
Gazing up at starlit sky
Sounds of night birds swell the silence
Body submerged in hot tub’s bubbling spring
Drifting with pleasure
Idyllic existence in this moment.

Who Is Driving My Bus?

Just breathe

Who is driving my bus?

She feels slightly angry and has a hard edge
She is not smiling
Her breath is shallow
Her brow is furrowed

Close my eyes
Breathe deep
Feel my feet
Feel my heartbeat

Who is driving my bus?

She feels softer, yet in a resigned way
Her lips have turned up a bit
Her spine is resting back in the chair
Her eyes have softened

Breathe again, with full awareness
Feel my chest rise and fall
Feel my belly swell and flatten
Breathe all the way down to my pelvic floor.

Who is driving my bus?

Emotion rises
Tears well in her eyes
Her sinuses burn
Her throat slightly closes

Allowing myself to feel
I notice heaviness in my chest
I hold it gently
I open my heart-space to myself

Who is driving my bus?

She is smiling as tears of joy well in her eyes
Her body feels soft and warm
Her feet have melted into the floor
She knows she is not alone

I breathe and feel grateful
I have the key to transformation
Such a simple and profound practice
Now… Spirit is driving my bus.

Now and Then

Big Sur and fog on a typical day in June. Phot...

Big Sur

I am here this morning. I had another skip day yesterday…let me see…what was my excuse? Oh, yes, yoga class at 8:00. My determination to get up at 6:00 so I can write before the day takes on a life of its own has slid down the slippery slope of resistance. I awoke this morning and put my feet on the floor before 6:30. I am here dressed and on tack by seven. Wahoo. Perhaps the true resistance is a feeling that my words have run out. The meter says 70,492 at the bottom of this blog page. If I was an auto, wouldn’t I be due for some sort of revival tune up?

What sort of revival would put inspiration into my heart so I could put words on the page that feel significant to me? Oh, yes. They need not have any significance. I can write anything. It does not matter who reads it or what they think. The practice is simply to write EVERY DAY no matter what! The practice is to allow words to go freely from my fingers to the page without an agenda, editing, judgment or expectation.  The practice is “transparency.”

Expectation snuck in the door and is looking over my shoulder. She expects me to write something meaningful. She wants to be inspired…entertained. She really wants me to be funny! She is tired of the same old depressed, spiritually oriented bullshit. With the book of Judgment under her arm, she is ready to denounce every sentence.

Note to self: This writing business worked better when you woke up at 6 and sat up and meditated for at least 30 minutes and then sat to write…duly noted.

Without the early rising and the mind in that altered state of meditation, Business Mind walks right in and starts making the “to-do” lists for the day. If you think this writing is pathetic, you should see the “to-do” lists! There used to be one list…of late there are FIVE! In addition there are four clipboards, a vertical file, the in and out box on my desk and two drawers of current hanging folders. Am I bragging or complaining? I do not know…I am trying to keep a handle on the hive of activity I created as the retreat construction kicks into high gear for the next six weeks.

In six weeks, my life will take a dramatic change. I will leave my retreat construction project and go up the coast of California to Big Sur. For five weeks, I will be living and working at Esalen Institute, a most amazing retreat center, with my friends and colleagues. My days will be filled with people and I will be involved in the business of teaching and treating the souls who come to Esalen. Like me, they are searching for some hidden part of themselves. What is the Force that sends us to a place like Esalen? The same Force puts me at this screen to write.

Jennifer Welwood speaks of this Force in Transformative Fire. I cannot say it better…

There is a great fire that longs to burn you—
Don’t let fear imagine a separation.
It is only yourself, burning for the truth,
The truth burning for itself.
Knowing this, give yourself, without reservation:
In ecstasy the fire burns.

She continues:
“Having deeply opened to the annihilating aspect of the path, and having allowed it to act on us, we may find that now and then it acts through us, cutting through ignorance and sentimentality with a voice of ruthless clarity…”

Love is the Lesson

Desert SunsetI missed writing yesterday. I am surprised to find that I am not concerned about it. Somehow, it no longer seems important. After one-hundred-sixty-five pages, my fear, that missing one day will end my writing, is no longer an issue.

I was sitting here, ready to write yesterday morning, when my friend arrived to help me with a project. We finished laying the pavers on my 1000 sq. ft. patio! Together we put down almost 300 in a few hours. We rocked!

She left around noon and I continued to work outside. Tackling another gritty project, I dug out from underneath the irrigation system where the main meets six legs that go out into the yard. I slid old pavers underneath the pipes and fashioned a cover from one of the paver pallets. I get great satisfaction from using recycled products. I had a really good time!

When G got home from flying around 5:00, I was dirt from head to toe. Working hard, getting dirty and making headway on the retreat felt great…and I was so tired last night I fell into bed and conked out early without ever laying my fingers on the keyboard. Oh, well…

Sharon Streamer

This morning is Sharon’s Walk. Her sister, Maya, has organized a prayer walk for Sharon and her family. My friend, Christine, will be picking me up in a couple of hours and we will drive up the now familiar road to the res. The walkers are gathering at the Los Coyotes Campground. I expect a large turnout from this small community. Sharon has lived here all her adult life and her family is loved and well respected.

As I worked yesterday, I thought of the potential an event like this has. If two-hundred souls show up in support of Sharon and we walk two-miles in silent prayer, she will be the recipient of a significant amount of loving energy. Love is the only thing that heals.

Love is the Lesson
Love is the only true healer.
Love heals all.
In this life we have been given
Love is The Lesson

It means little to love
When loving is easy.
The provocative question:
Can I love the unlovable?

Can I love the man who raped me?
Can I love the politician who lies?
Can I love the earth polluters?
Can I love the hatemongers?

Can I love my imperfections?
Can I love my defeats?
Can I love my weaknesses?
Can I love my body?

Can I let go of my judgment?
Can I stop holding expectations?
Can I accept what is
With true forgiveness and loving kindness?

No matter what this moment brings
No matter how I feel affected
Can I meet the path’s bumps and turns
Without resistance?

When I am able
To Love All That Is
With equanimity,
I will be healed.