One Precious Incarnation

Would you rather be a rich man or stones in the lands of the Maker? Would you rather be a rich man or stone in the hands of Magdalena? Are you a rich man? What’s your plan?

Are you a rich man_ (OM.MW16.12.17.11)

I’m getting teary as I write this. I’m so close. I had a date with an awesome lady in NYC. A true tastemaker. She likes me. I think.   I wield the light saber and slay demons daily. I’m writing music. I’m finding voice. I’m using voice. I’m silently using my voice and pushing the world if you can believe it. And now it’s falling away.  At least it feels that way.

I will probably be doing the exact same thing but in an ashram in the very near future. Luckily there’s a music room. There’s also accurate yoga. People live there. I’m sure there’s lots of work to do. There certainly is lots of work to do on myself. Starting with grounding. Hopefully being held.   Moving into silence.

And still, there’s the question: Would I rather be a rich man or stone in the hands of Magdalena. Stones in the hand of the Maker. Always the question. Kazantzakis would smile. I’ve been smiling less lately and trying to hold back tears.

from an image search "Mary Magdalene"

Following up with yesterday’s, ahem, teaching. And it was a teaching. Even the content I worked on yesterday and today spoke directly to it. Beryl Bender Birch talking about wanting to run away from uncomfortable energies and thoughts and moments. Trying to escape to some other moment. Wow, did I work with that mind.

I’ve been settling and calming today. Doing my work in an even keeled way. Trying to allow unpleasant thoughts and watch them. Hold them. Fearlessly allowing and receiving them. I put this on the Reiki notes last night. Among other things.

Anyhow. First thought best thought right? Here’s to Victory Songs! Vijaya Songs! Jai Vijaya!

Up Jumped the Lord 2(OM.MW16.01.04.11)

from an image search "Victory"

from an image search "Victory"

I’ve had a terrible/wonderful morning. I woke up at 2 am in a full blown panic episode. I was sleeping in Barbara’s bed and was alone in the house where I’m renting a room. It was my first night there. Also there’s snow coming. Also, there’s a whole lot of self judgement and suffering I’m creating about my place in it and my relationship to it. It’s so much easier for me to stay in the office. I felt pushed off my land and was rigidly attacking myself over it.

I woke up. Tried deep Ujaya breathing. Berimbau. Moving to the couch. Praying. That was helpful. Everytime I’d start to nod off I would jolt out of sleep freaking out. That is called hypervigilance. PTSD’ers have it. I starting praying to the Virgin and holding my hand over my heart. I’d asked for “calm”. Or, “healing”. Or “safe”. But still it would happen.

Eventually I gave into to being awake and chanted a little and sat a little. I had a LOT of my Jewish friends call “Sphilkes”. I thought I could teach an AWESOME “Sphilkes Management” workshop. I’ve got all kinds of techiniques. Breathing. Mantra. Spontaneous song. Ballet. Mindful walking.

I saw a great icon of a dark Kali like Buddhist avenging spirit on Barbara’s wall. I really tried to take her into me. To see that all my pain, suffering, desire to blame, desire for vengenance are aspects of this fierce god that we usually direct outside of us into the external world. I asked for deep healing and it was revealed to see how those unpleasant thoughts and desires are actually INSIDE me. How Kali is kissing me to make friends with these dark places. To lean INTO them.

Immediately, I started to focus. I started to ground. I started to be present. I started singing a song I composed to her but I found it was a distraction. She wasn’t interested in my praises just my healing and for that I had to stay focused on the download she was giving me. Here’s the song anyway if you’re interested. I wrote it months ago.

Miss Kali(RB.06.10.11)

A couple of big insights came to me. One was that I needed to not blame my mother for some negative parts of our relationship. She did the best she could and there were things happening while she was pregnant that probably affect me to this day. I brought a lot of reiki sei hei ki to that time. Also, Swami J. Kind of plump. Seeing an image of him made me feel grounded.

I had a moment of howling, “HOW DO I HEAL!?” And his image sort of told to sit still and allow all the anguish in. Not to fight it with movement, song, what I’m calling “Sphilkes Management”. Just to allow it in.

I got very still and sure enough it started to transform and yield up even MORE information. It was hard to hold onto the stillness but it’s lesson stuck. That’s part of the reason I’m writing it down this very minute.

Another concerned something Jamine said about getting a bigger problem. I starting wretching and the pain in my guts actually took my mind off my mind. I’m concerned that this kind of insight could become an eating disorder or something like that.

Also many other little insights but those were what I wanted to write. I stressed out on the way to work but talked with Maintenance about where to park and what to do about snow and feel much better. Jai Kali Ma! I had some sardines and am starting my day’s work. I hope this lessons stick and facilitate more healing for myself and others.

from an image search for "Kali"

I’m weary of ‘splainin’ myself to myself. Like seriously, why do I do that? Oh yeah, I notice myself do it. And I do it anyway. Like I’m stealing from some black cloaked specter who holds my heart in a cage. Pema said it’s good to watch yourself spining out as you’re spinning out.  So, I guess that’s at least a good thing.   That I see myself doing it.   I should stop right this moment and do some Reiki.   Please hold.

(Cho Ku Re…I have compassion for myself…glitter)

I’ve been making songs on the Berimbau. These are rough. Rough and wet like detritus on a Southern street.  Maybe in a South that won and colonized South America (which was in their plans). I’m not saying the South should have won the Civil War. I’m just thinking and creating and what’s coming to my mind is a “what if”.   You know, like what if this, then what if that.   For all we know the South would have quickly abolished slavery when they realized it a was drain on entrepreneurial energy. All that free labor doesn’t make for innovation because there’d be little motivation.

Anyway, this music is like that in some way.   I’m not really making sense. I’ve just been collecting leaves.   Here’s some songs:

s (OM.11.11.11)

Carve it Like Giapetto(OM.11.11.11)

Woo Woo 2(OM.11.11.11)

Here’s the RFK video where he talks about England and slavery and all of what was inspiring me in the earlier paragraph. This stuff gets all up in me.

My friend and I broke up. It was nice. Many times. We had quite a physical connection. I won’t go into a lot of detail as that is for her. She often made me feel like the “Minotaur”. I’m not sure why. Something about our particular alchemy. I felt grounded. With huge horns. As though I were in some Classical fresco.

I also wondered if our alchemy stimulated me to write. I don’t think so, but I would envision characters on occasion. Little scenarios. Usually mythological creatures and/or fantastical characters. Just being in little vignettes. A 3rd dimenison aching for a 4th. Hintings of a story wanting to happen.

I fully attribute this to our alchemy. That was a nice thing. A nice connection we had. I’d love to share more of that with her but can’t and/or won’t at the moment. Even this blog is a little vague. I just watched an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and for some reason starting thinking about her. I think it was because I like to research people in media I consume and found that Cheryl Hines is more or less from Tallahassee where I lived for many years. For some reason that made me think of my friend and our alchemy.

The word “alchemy” means “black earth”. This is one of my “black earth songs”. It is entitled “Long Ropey Tail”. I envisioned making love with my friend as a type of mythological creature with a long, prehensile like tail. A sexy, ecstatic Goddess being held and guided by a fierce lover with his graceful, intelligent tail. I don’t draw (yet). Here’s what I got:

Long Ropey Tail 3

"Minotaur Caressing a Sleeping Woman"

Wow! I just inventoried every freaking wire, cable, connector, component/composite box, etc that is going with us to NYC. Everything! Cameras, lens, KiPros, IOHO’s, iMAC’s, lens cleaners, etc. Any possible thing would need that’s in a Husky Bag or Black Pelican case has been duly noted by me on the back of our Omega Style Sheet pamphlets. Learn our copy style AND an inventory of our Streaming Conference Video rig. It’s pretty sweet.

GAC drawer (GB.04.16.11)

JB tells me this is a $15k weekend. We won’t even be able to leave for lunch or dinner we’ll be working so hard. And damn! New friends in NYC I’d love to see. And sleep would be nice. We’ve got lots of GAC and toys and we’re going to be streaming the CAMS conference. Sending out lots of light for awakening.

It will be a great conference! I’ll come back to the city next week after Meditation class on Monday. See my friends. Relax a little in NYC before coming back to the campus.

Michael Carlucci operating Camera 1

I found out yesterday I love cleaning. I didn’t know that. I had to move out of my rental and clean up to get my security deposit back and I really got into it. I dove into that toilet like a yuck-armored dolphin. It was very fulfilling. Once the surrender was made I got down to the business of just doing it and managing the time it would take to complete the job by 7 pm which was the time the landlords would do the walk-through.

The day started with me waking up at 6:46. I’ve been wanting more sleep and thought it might be nice to sleeep later but knowing that if I got up exactly at that moment and headed to the campus I could play for my friend’s yoga class. I went through some back and forth about it which is my habit and then just stopped myself and said, “what if you just go do it and don’t think”. I did this and played a great class. It was one where I felt like I had to balance my own need to “howl” with the needs of the class. I often have that feeling. It feels almost like a subtle form of surfing where I’m riding the waves of my own ego as it is splashed by the experiences of others and the needs of the moment. All and all it was a success. (I thought)

Next was breakfast with close friends. I walked into the day determined to practice working on my relationship with victimization which is of course related to my own story about needs and suffering. I brought that into the cleaning process and held myself accountable the whole day.

It worked. There was alchemy. There was transformation. There was team building. And the place got very clean. I smelled like bleach the whole day. It was organic. I “caused” change. I was part of something. And the day ended. Hopefully I can multiply this tranformation.

Happy Guru Purnima! A very sacred day in the Yoga Tradition. My day has been thus:

The weather is cool and the pressure is low. The sky is very clear. The sunset was a perfect wash of lavender and sherbet. Just the faintest hints of cloud in the sky. I was racing back to the campus to get some video of the sky and the perfect moon rising over the lake. I was also trying to move ‘tranquilo’. I was holding a lot. My own Aries. Patience. Joy. Aparigraha. Sankalpa. Peace.

I got to the campus and played with the EX3′s Learned some of there magic. Got the cart, scoped the OCSL, thought about the lake, Burger Hill, the hoopers. Decided witnessing it consciously was all I needed to do. I did a LOT of Tonglin meditation. My inverse version because I was so filled with wonder.

I returned the cart and really got into Daniel Mack’s class’ work. I very much enjoyed running my hand over the sanded wood. Seeing their rustic perfection. I left the campus and drove very slowly. Like I could feel every twist of the road and as though my Honda was a horse of some kind.

I had three great ideas: A dry, staccato cello piece to accompany a piece I’m working on. It’s like a cricket sawing out a new song. Also, Stefan and his “Chinese Guy” doing a voice over of the interview we got the other day. A joyful irony. Finally, was the embodied experience of Solfeggio/Indian. I know where “Ni” is.

A broth of medicine soup with ginger, parsley, tomato, miso, garlic, and fish oils. Could it be more delightful? And of course a day of work. Bring beauty and light to the world. Interviewed Sister Alice and her daughter Tia, Daniel Mack who was just amazing. He talked about Mater and Pater, and how his work is Alchemy and the Anima and the Animus and the Jesuits. Like huh? And, of course the very authentic interview of the Lady Dawn.

And I woke up with an interesting dream. I was getting my car worked on. It was a huge garage with lots of space and activity and customers and technicians. I wanted to tip my guy $5 reached in my wallet and $40, 2 twenties flew out of my wallet and blew down the street. I caught one but the other kept eluding me and blowing away. It eventually accrued to this bush. It caught in the bush’s branches. But there were lots of other bills in the branches. $10′s, $5′s, $1′s and there was a whole wad of cash folded up with a clip in the center.

And when I looked closely I saw that it wasn’t a bush, but a miniature grove. On some kind of bar table. And in the center of the grove was where the wad of money was but there was an idol of some kind. It shapeshifted into a female god. A Goddess playing an electric guitar or bass. She was practically nude with long legs. Black sheer underwear. I couldn’t make out her face but I heard the name Lyn Collins even though I don’t think the Goddess was Lyn Collins.

I had a moment of doubt about whether to take the money, or just my own, or even leave my money there. After all the grove was accumulating money AND someone specifically left some there. Maybe it was a holy place. A Sacred Grove. I woke up.

I’m a huge fan of Classical Mythology.   I have been ever since “Steve Yerk” introduced me to the constellations of the night sky when I was a kid.    I loved it when Steve would come over to fix our t.v. because he was really good to me and bring his telescope and tell me the stories about mythological creatures.    My love of the subject grew and I studied myths in college.   I really resonated with the psychic aspect of myths.    Of how they could potentially point to a sort of “lost realm” of human consciousness.   This fascinated me and I studied it in great detail.

from an image search "minotaur"

Number .1: jot down a quick sketch of the song that came to you as you woke up. About the mouse, the nut, the Emperor’s wife.

Number .2: Send note to Melissa about gypsy woman dream. “Now beauty is inside you…”

Number 1: Get ready for work.

Number 2: Chant Gayatri

Number 3: Breakfast

Number 3.1: repair relationship with Marcy

Number 4: See Toni with medical documents

Number 5: Edit Joanne Finkel

Number 6: Meet with Serra and Bashew

Number 7: Lunch

Number 8: inventory and Reiki camera gear for weekend conference

Number 9: finish work

Number 10: Spirit Medicine, pray, move

Number 11 visit Melissa

My very sweet teacher posted a link on his Facebook page about bullying. I read the article and was interested to see the web address having a .gov at the end. It must have been put out by a gov’t agency I guess. Which makes me feel good.

The country is a psychological, emotional mess at the moment. There’s a lot of fear. A lot of uncertainty. There’s just been catastrophe in Japan with an earthquake and the nuclear meltdowns. The Gulf of Mexico is still poisoned. It’s just gloomy gloomy.

What concerns me is the kind of energy coming from the extreme Right. There’s a lot of finger pointing and though the Conservative platform does have some valid points, the kind of rhetoric coming from the extreme Right is downright violent. It’s almost as though the fanaticism of terrorism has an echo or a resonance of some sort here. Like when I sing very loud and hit a certain note and my guitar chimes in without even being played.

I really want to keep my heart and my mind open but compared to what many people in the world have to live with on a day to day basis, there is just no ground to be as upset as they are. I would just ask for them to slow down a little and take some deep, healing breaths and let’s figure out what needs to happen.

I’m angry about what I see as bullying. Bullying one’s wife. Bullying one’s flock. Bullying one’s children. Everyone’s a reflection of God so I know the dangerous, bullying like behavior is an archetype that we all participate in unconsciously at least. I would bet that deep down a lot of my more fanatical countrymen are really good people. Maybe they just haven’t been given some of the tools that can bring wholeness and happiness to them. Crikey! I’ve been doing spiritual practice, and SEVA and fasting, and chanting for so long its just a part of me, and I don’t even know how to create that space sometimes. As my Irish mother would say, “there but for the grace of God go I”.

Maybe I’m wrong but perhaps bullying is unconscious modeling. Forcing someone to conform to how you want them to be. If you could have an authentic and compassionate, conscious appraisal of your need to change people or your need to change your world maybe you could be a model. You could actually be the change you want to see. Blaze a path. A conscious path, and people will follow. If not, you’d just be hammering on people until they submit. It’s the weaker path. Weaker because it’s less conscious. Less complete.

The remedy is space. Consciousness. Breath. Everything will be alright. Just breathe. For now just a little space in your mind. Depth in your breath. Moon in your throat. Softness in your heart.

I suppose the joy is in having possibility. To have the feeling of wide open possibility is a good feeling. Once choice has been made there is a seeming shrinkage of possibility. So, sometimes to live in that choiceless place feels more pleasurable than losing the possibility during the process of making a choice.

The Bhagavad Gita talks about three types of action: Right Action, Wrong Action, Inaction. Of the three, Inaction is worst. Worse even than Wrong Action. Hmmm…

So, what is the difference between buzzing with work and lounging around in “possibility”? I suppose your concurrent intention while doing work. Maybe to be open to possibility in the act of working. And bending time like a bow.

Yeti Neti. I kind of look like that. Big beard, red and blue flannel. Indian Neti pot. Jiu Jitsu on the sink.

I just learned the valuable trick of sucking the Neti water into my throat. I’ve always wondered how to do it. It’s “death-ish” in that you have to dance around your fear to “sniff” the Neti water into your throat but not down into your lungs. There’s a lot of trust and faith involved. Kung Fu too. The technique of how to do it.

I’ve always admired the Neti process. The folks I trained with are huge into Neti. It’s required in beginning yoga classes. I think that’s good. The Neti Pot is more than just a way to cleanse your throat and sinuses although that’s a good thing. It’s also about challenging the fear of drowning. It’s also about swimming in an ancient sea. It’s about connecting with fear. It’s about connecting with the water. Ancestral water.

The Neti is about attention. The Neti is about Nadis. The Neti is about twisting gracefully while doing something a little painful and challenging. It also cleans up the sinuses and helps you stay healthy. Mine looks a little like a tea pot which it could maybe double as, as long as you don’t tell anyone.

Alaska Massey

BY.DA6.(RB.02.06.10)

I just read an article in the HP that said college students in the US are not learning how to think critically or creatively.    I agree.    I was a teacher at FSU many years ago and it was sad.    Maybe fun for them.    The majority just wanted to party and get laid and I can appreciate that but it would have been nice to get some real learning in there.    I did the best I could but our dept. was under pressure to teach a class that in my opinion was bullshit and who can blame the poor grad students for simply toting the party line.    It’s like a season of the Wire where everyone thinks short term, juking stats, and promoting the douches.    I did the best I could.

One of the notes in the article was how students don’t write and that many students never had to write more than 20 pages. That’s kind of what brought me here to post today. I don’t really have anything interesting to say and just really wanted to post something pretty to break up the gray theme of the website. Probably also to post a piece of music.

I like writing on this blog. As I may have indicated earlier, it’s sort of an exercise in form. Can I say something that is pleasing to me with some pictures in just the right way? I probably would post more often. I probably would post more outrageous stuff too but as I also indicated earlier, I’ve been raw from some recent experiences and kind of just don’t know how to approach certain subjects. I have many aspects to my personality and am trying to find the best way to express myself. Should I go academic? Try for comedy? Outrageousness? Cool, smart creative? In truth, I’m just happy to be in the habit of creation (when I’m in that habit).

So, like here’s a song I made:

Joyous 5

I had a lovely moment on the NY subway this morning.    I got on my train and grabbed the rail and the train started moving and I noticed I was standing next to this pleasant Chinese family.    The man I presume to be the father coughed.    The train accelerated.    His son was listening to an MP3 player.    He reached over and gently tugged one of the earbuds out of his son’s ear.    The son just put the ear bud back in as though nothing happened.   It was so delicate and charming.    Then he reached over and groomed his daughter’s hair for a moment.   She turned around and smiled.    Her mom smiled and touched her daughter’s hair too.    It was such a pleasant moment.    I started grinning.

I must have looked pretty wild to them.    A long-bearded man in wool and rags.    I really felt the world community on that subway car.   We were sort of all one family in a tight space from different corners of the world.   Everyone staking out their own little slice of “attention real estate” on the subway car.    Moments like these are always so tender for me.    It’s like we all want to connect but most of the time we put up walls that keep us from connecting.  Unless we’re drunk or partying or doing business with each other.   The whole vibe is different on the trains at different times.

There was a beautiful girl on the G train.    She looked Russian and she came in and sat down and like most New Yorkers conjured a force field that said, “don’t bother me”.    I guess we all do it to get through the ride when our sense of intimate space is forcefully compromised.    I enjoy those moments but not everyone does.    I usually just hold space and go to a very meditative place.   Sometimes I can actually feel other people’s energy fields.   Like our Anandamaya koshas are melting together.

The Chinese family got off at 42nd and I saw them walk off toward the 7 train presumably home to Queens.    Maybe from visiting family.    Who knows?   I think we always think of people’s untold stories on the train.   Who are they?   Where are they going?   It brings me back to the question of who I am and where I’m going?    The family is like a reflection of me on one thread of possibility.    A sweet possibility.    One that I should be so fortunate to find myself in.   At least as it seemed to me in watching this nice family interact with each other.   I exited to GCT and on to my day.

Here’s a song I wrote later this evening:

Gingambre

"Ginger 1" from a search "Ginger Art"

Did I give it enough life?    Enough light?    I noticed there’s 80 posts.    As Maude says, “Eighty’s a good time to die”.     Maybe it’s time to retire this site.    Or this blog.    Or whatever it is this is.

What got me here at the moment is an article I just read on the Huff Post.     Here it is as a simple copy and paste.     I don’t want to wreck my flow.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dave-winer/post_1513_b_803114.html

In the article, it says a blogger bares one’s heart to the world.    That’s one of the reasons I stopped updating.    I guess I got scared.    This site was given to me by a friend.     A dear friend and lover and then I had a new girlfriend and though I want to bare all I didn’t want to hurt any feelings.    Or, at least I just felt a little vulnerable about the whole thing so I just kind of let it drop.    It was too bad.    I really was enjoying the habit of writing and making music and posting.

It was for me, an exercise in good taste.    Can I say something in just the right way?    Can I find just the right picture?    Can I be authentic?    I’ve still been creating but not in this forum and as I said, just sorta felt weird about it.    But now the former lover has a new bf and maybe I feel freer to post.

I hope I have something interesting to say.

from an image search "heartbreak"

from an image search "heartbreak"

from an image search "heartbreak"

I’ve not felt myself for awhile.    I’m sorry for not posting dear Reader.    Maybe it was just a time management issue.    I’m also not sure how safe I feel to talk about the things that I’m into.    I enjoy writing my thoughts down even when they’re dark.    I’ve got to know you’re ok with that.

I feel good at the moment.     I had a GREAT yoga class taught by a true Goddess.    A long, soft voiced Goddess with perfect timing and good taste in music.   She started with Sun Salutations which I’m not a huge fan of but somehow she really inspired me.    I think it was her voice.    She also gave me an adjustment that felt authentic and sweet.    She asked me “how does that feel”?    I decided to say that more often to my lovers.

Yeah.    Things are good at the moment.    The season’s winding down.    I’ve done good work.    Brought much harmony.    Trying to finalize some plans.    Migratory Unicorn stuff.

Oh yeah, I just played some guitar in the DH.    This has happened not nearly enough for my tastes this season.    Bhava, bhava, bhav!     And here I am!    I hope more will come

from an image search "guitar art"

I’m making a video for our OCSL page at the moment.    I’ve got some music.    Just some throbbing groove to go under the speaker.    Something that sort of propels the piece but doesn’t take away from the attention on the speaker.    It’s like a character in a play.    He can’t upstage the lead.     I like this process and am having huge respect for the guys that do this stuff.

It’s funny.    Usually film scores are not considered great art.    At least in the dance world, you don’t want to pick a film score to choreograph your piece to.    It’s considered sort of hack.   I’m not sure why.   Maybe because when one sees a movie, the movie should be a whole experience.    If you start cutting it up and analyzing, you’ll naturally have to cut up the score and then you’ll see the score is really only there to push the film.   Without the film, the music is probably not very rich on its own.    There are some exceptions but even in those cases the music doesn’t stand like high classical music.     It really is there to serve the picture as a whole.

I don’t know.   I’m just writing.    You know keeping the habit up.    Anyhow, I’m making some music and am just happy to be doing the work I’m doing.    Learning the process.    Adding my own little voice to the chorus of healers coming from my organization.    I’m calling this piece Coro 3.41.    I have no idea why.     It’s something I made even if it’s no big deal.    Kind of funny.    The photo is one I’ve been looking for all day only to find it online from a simple image search.

Coro 3.41

from an image search "OCSL"

I think we shield ourselves from pain.    No great leap there.     Or we shield ourselves from the potential for pain.    Again, not a great leap.     Obviously we try to protect ourselves from the gross forms of pain.    Pain to the body.    Protection for the body.    But also from pain in subtler realms.    Emotional.    Mental.

Intimate relationships bring these issues up for me.    I can’t speak to the rest of the world but in contemporary American society it seems to me that we throw ourselves into intimate relationships with one another.    With near strangers actually and yet we protect our tender hearts from potential pain.    I certainly have done that.    I’ve witnessed it.    It’s been done to me.    In fact, I’ve seen it so much that I would have to give it statistical significance.      It’s like we give our bodies without our hearts.     Is that a disconnection?    Is there a more organic way to be in relationship?

I’m not even going to say that we do this because of a decadent, declining civilization.    When I survey other cultures I don’t see many positive models either.     Burkas?    Acid burned women?    No.   No.    That is not the way.     But what is the way?    How do we, in this modern day, have intimacy AND be open?    Can we do both of them?     What is the balance?     How to be real and vulnerable and fearless?

I don’t think there really can be an answer.    For there to be AN answer there would have to be a universe with ONE way.     I don’t think that can be or at least I’m not in alignment with that way of seeing.    So, I’ll just hang out here in the uncertainty.    I’m not happy about it but I’m here.     I’ll just hold the hope that some organinc solution may arise.     It may not but I usually feel pretty awake.     And hopeful.

from an image search "waiting"

Here I am in my office.    At my desk.    8:27 pm.    August 31, 2010.    I’m kind of uninspired.    A little nervous about this Lyme’s Disease.    My leg is tingling and my neck hurts a little.    And I don’t really have much to say.

This blog site was a gift from a friend.    I’m not sure if she still considers me a friend.     So I feel like this blog is kind of dying.    I hope not.     I really enjoy the posts.    I really enjoyed how it called me back into the office to make music and see connections.     It was like an open mic or something.

Maybe I’m just in a weak relationship with it at the moment.    There have been other things on my mind.    I still do all those fun things I like to do at night.     Like music.     With Tyler and hopefully Rose soon.    Lots of keyboard.    All the time.   You know me and my little music videos.    Remember this is a scratch pad.    No biggy.

What else?     Tantric Yoga in Albany with Lauren Toolin.    I would really like to be nearer to her and take her classes frequently.   Lots of deeper ways of doing asana.    Turning them into mudra.    Long story.    I could do them but would need to practice.

Oh yeah!    Dinner at Rita Schwab’s!    Beautiful home in the Catskills at Mt. Tremper.

There’s another thing I’d love to talk about now that I’m here.    It’s sometimes delicious.    Sometimes challenging.    Sometimes exhausting.    Useful.    Human colored.     Empowered.    I’m not in a position to talk in great detail about it.   There’s a whole lot though.     Aaaah!

from an image search "Mt. Tremper"

I’m dramatizing. Lost role models. Death of JFK. His long hair. Our dead father. My dead father. My chart. Astrology.

I find I often have fantasies of identity. Who am I in my job? My creative endeavors. Who can I relate to? What archetype drives me? I pick it up and roll with it. It gives me strength. Or at least, passionate inspiration. And I go on. In my moldy FEMA trailer. On my migrant worker wages.

And yet I’m fairly happy. Good natured and yeah, happy. Beautiful gf. I play keyboard daily. Bach. Photoshop. Meditation. Chanting the names of God. Organic food. Pretty happy. Very blessed.

Gettysburg. A rare choice. “Stand firm ye boys from Maine”. The center of the circle. The North came from the South. The South from the North. The pendulum swings. At the extreme right flank of the entire Union army. The significance blows me away.

I feel like this in my job sometimes. As I said, I’m dramatizing. I feel that way though. Bayonets of spirit. Little Round top of the heart. I really feel that way. Role models. Resurrected Fathers. Homelands. I love my country. I love my world.

image search "Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain"

Being kinetic helps me feel integrity.    Moving my spine.     Taking a seat firmly in a pose.    Holding it and moving it in space and time.     Perhaps shamanically.    Or maniacally.     I like it.    It pleases me.    It restores something in me.

And music.    My hands and fingers are thumping the breasts of a fine lover.    Drawing out her milk.

These things bring a firmness of integrity.    Integument.   Integrated.    Asana.    Seated.     Firmly.

I long for this feeling.    This sensation.    I long for it.    As polished rocks in the rain.

Sit up and look.    Or pull.    Pull in threads of attention.     Into my skull.    Behind my skull.

A comet’s coma as she nears the sun.

from an image search "Bamboo"

from an image search "Bamboo"

from an image search "Bamboo"

I don’t remember if I told you this or not.     On my drive up North from Florida to the Hudson Valley, I made it a point to drive through the Shenendoah Valley.     I went right up the great ancient spine and in its Valley.     I wanted to bring healing to the old ghosts of those young men who died in Virginia.    Those great young men of the United States and of the Confederate States of America.

I had watched much of the Ken Burns documentary about the Civil War.     Many men died.     Much blood.     Much suffering.     May all beings be free of suffering and the cause of suffering.

Stonewall Jackson was a very eccentric man.     Military education.     Curious fellow who believed he had to keep one arm in the air so he wouldn’t go out of balance.     He believed it was Man’s duty to pray and fight.

I believe the same thing except for me, fighting is more an internal struggle with authenticity.    One should fight a subtle fight with one’s dharma or true self or life mission.   One should find it and struggle for it.    It’s Chogyam Trungpa’s the Sacred Path of the Warrior.     What kind of warrior?    What is the Sacred Path?

I can relate to Stonewall.    General T.J. Jackson.   A great man.    A great general.    Carl Big Heart just told me I look like him right now.    Like 15 minutes ago.   Or at least he had a vision of the general when I galloped into the DH.    Interesting.    I kind of like that.    Here’s to you brave, fallen men.

from an image search "Stonewall Jackson"

Me

Last night was a beautiful night in the Hudson Valley.    The full moon had come and gone, the temperature was pleasant and there was a tender wind blowing through the campus.    I brought my guitar out to the front lawn during dinner and my friend Lauren and I sang up quite a Kirtan storm.     Ripples of devotion rolled over the lawn and babies frolicked and adults opened their hearts and unicorns came to eat out of our hands.    It was pretty sweet.

A nice Indian lady took notice of us and came down to investigate.    She came close but not too close and at the perfect moment made eye contact and asked to come closer and sit down with us and sing.     How could we refuse such propriety?    She sat and we all just allowed ourselves to be taken away on a magic carpet of Bhav.

Quite a bit later after the ragas moved over us and under us and through us and from us and we softly settled and sat with each other in silence she asked where we learned the music.    We each told our tales and shared stories and enjoyed the dusk blending darker.    We talked about gods and goddesses.    Terrible forms and gentle forms and we got talking about how they should be invoked and sung to.    Something I found kind of neat was how she talked about the combination of alcohol and spiritual practice.

When I was learning Indian Music, my teacher would under NO circumstances allow our group to play at a bar or around alcohol nor would she allow us to be booked for a dinner party.    She said that as Classical Musicians we were to be received with respect.    Part of me liked that.     Not the asshole part of me but the part of me that wants to be a bridge for all beautiful things to cross over into our world.    I find that my full attention and the full attention of others is a midwife to the joyous beauty that wants to be born through me.    It’s why we practice relaxtion in yoga.    So the tasty stuff will poke its nose out.

The Indian Lady had an interesting take on this.   Jyoti was her name.    She said it had nothing to do with gods and goddesses and medieval ideas and icons of holy men or anything like that.    For her it was simply that there’s a certain energy or vibe around drinking and a certain energy or vibe around doing spiritual practice or anything else for that matter and that to improperly blend those energies causes and energetic dissonance.    This disonance leads to what she called “kundalini sickness”.

I just SO got it.     It’s the flow.    The vibe.    There’s a time and place for things.     Beauty rises organically.    It’s the Inspiration of the Muses in Hesiod.     It was my toast and coffee this morning.     My whiskey and the Wire.    Nothing wrong or right.     Just notes that are in harmony or not and I am the player of the song and the conductor of the symphony.     A great lesson.

from an image search "kundalini"

from an image search "kundalini"

from an image search "Saraswati"