DOITGIRL

Every time I hear someone yelling at someone, a dog, a child, a spouse, a student- or using force- force of words or physical force to “change” them, “help them, teach them, get them to obey, my heart hurts and I shake my head. They’ve lost their center and the ego has the reigns. Teaching your students to fear, that’s old paradigm bullshit that never worked. Fear creates more fear and love creates more love. Love them to teach them. Teach love, not fear. My best teachers have always loved me unconditionally and opened me to undiscovered parts of myself, my worst teachers have lorded over me with fear, and I closed up tight, sheltered myself aginst them and their teachings. I might have momentarily obeyed to get out unscathed, but I never Learned, like the deep sustainable ways you learn from being loved. Fear never taught me anything but more fear/resentment. Fear leads to anger and violence. Love leads to healign and evolution. Lead with love. Like my teacher says, “I am not here to teach you, i am here to love you. The love will teach you.” Love is the greatest healer and the Greatest Teacher. I am blessed to have found a teacher who loves me without condition and leads me back home to me, who keeps the doors of his heart open to me at all times- not one who demands I follow his rules to support his ego. I am remembering one professor in college who held me back after class to scream at me. “You’ll never be a writer,” he fumed, red in the face, spitting. “Who the hell do you think you are, you can’t even form a proper sentence!!!” I cried for days and the wound didn’t heal for ten more years, every time I thought of it I shuddered from the trauma. It certainly didn’t encourage me to write. I was a lost depressed Indigo child flailing in the college system, and he was a strict angry member of the patriarchy who couldn’t have resented me more. His hate did not teach me anything but fear. So I am so blessed to have found my Beloved Teacher who has shown me self love through his love. Because he sees God in all, he sees the light in me. He reflects my higher self back to me, he sees all the Divine parts I wasn’t sure were there - I had caught glimpses of them and I had only hoped they existed. He has pulled them out of me and made them real. Fear destroys, love creates. Teach with love.

> If you want to change the world love a man; really love him
> Choose the one whose soul calls to yours clearly who sees you; who is brave enough to be afraid
> Accept his hand and guide him gently to your hearts blood
> Where he can feel your warmth upon him and rest there
> And burn his heavy load in your fires
> Look into his eyes look deep within and see what lies dormant or awake or shy or expectant there
> Look into his eyes and see there his fathers and grandfathers and all the wars and madness their spirits fought in some distant land, some distant time
> Look upon their pains and struggles and torments and guilt; without judgment
> And let it all go
> Feel into his ancestral burden
> And know that what he seeks is safe refuge in you
> Let him melt in your steady gaze
> And know that you need not mirror that rage
> Because you have a womb, a sweet, deep gateway to wash and renew old wounds
>
> If you want to change the world love a man, really love him
> Sit before him, in the full majesty of your woman in the breath of your vulnerability
> In the play of your child innocence in the depths of your death
> Flowering invitation, softly yielding, allowing his power as a man
> To step forward towards you…and swim in the Earth’s womb, in silent knowing, together
> And when he retreats…because he will…flees in fear to his cave…
> Gather your grandmothers around you…envelope in their wisdoms
> Hear their gentle shusshhhed whispers, 
> calm your frightened girls’ heart
> Urging you to be still…and wait patiently for his return
> Sit and sing by his door, a song of remembrance, 
> that he may be soothed, once more
>
> If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him
> Do not coax out his little boy
> With guiles and wiles and seduction and trickery
> Only to lure him…to a web of destruction
> To a place of chaos and hatred
> More terrible than any war fought by his brothers
> This is not feminine this is revenge
> This is the poison of the twisted lines
> Of the abuse of the ages, the rape of our world
> And this gives no power to woman it reduces her as she cuts off his balls
> And it kills us all
> And whether his mother held him or could not
> Show him the true mother now
> Hold him and guide him in your grace and your depth
> Smoldering in the center of the Earth’s core
> Do not punish him for his wounds that you think don’t meet your needs or criteria
> Cry for him sweet rivers
> Bleed it all back home
>
> If you want to change the world love a man, really love him
> Love him enough to be naked and free
> Love him enough to open your body and soul to the cycle of birth and of death
> And thank him for the opportunity
> As you dance together through the raging winds and silent woods
> Be brave enough to be fragile and let him drink in the soft, heady petals of your being
> Let him know he can hold you stand up and protect you
> Fall back into his arms and trust him to catch you
> Even if you’ve been dropped a thousand times before
> Teach him how to surrender by surrendering yourself
> And merge into the sweet nothing, of this worlds’ heart
>
> If you want to change the world, love a man, really love him
> Encourage him, feed him, allow him, hear him, hold him, heal him
> And you, in turn, will be nourished and supported and protected
> By strong arms and clear thoughts and focused arrows
> Because he can, if you let him, be all that you dream 
>
> ~Anonymous~via Natalia Benson

I think the best way to describe why my last love and I parted ways is that we stopped growing together. Love is like any living thing, it has be able to keep growing to live. Our love simply stopped growing, and it died. You are just like any plant or animal, you have to keep growing to live.

Goodbye, My Love. 

I wrote him that final forgiveness email, and he wrote back from a far-off country, backstage at a show. I hadn’t expected a reply. He never replied when I had wanted, and now when I didn’t want to hear another word, there was his voice. The final icy pangs hit my heart, I deleted the email and I fell back on my pillow, turned off the lights, and almost like that I felt a slight rocking, like being on a boat on the water, and the winds were whipping. I was standing at the bow of the boat, my loyal dog at my feet. The stars were not out, I could not see anything around me, all was black. The wind whipped the long cloak I wore, and pieces of hair danced across my face. I could hear and feel the water lapping against the vessell. He was on the dock, behind me at first I could feel him, painfully so, but as we sailed further and further away, I could feel his presence less and less, and finally, that great energetic door between us that sat on the sea itself, it sealed behind me, and my heart helped it. When it was closed, and one tear ran down my face, frozen there. He had closed it on his side long, long before. We pressed on in the darkness. Despite not knowing where or to whom I was headed, I knew there was nothing left for us at all at the port where he stood, the life we had once created together had all been burned by our fires, our whole story had been reduced to ashes. I pushed on. Depsite not being able to see what was before us, my heart led, my own guiding light, I had finally begun to trust. There was nothing for me behind me. My only hope was forward. My only chance at a healthy open life, lay ahead of me in the darkness. So I let the boat carry me further into the darkness, empty handed, empty hearted, almost soothed by the dark, in new found faith, the kind so strong I never had when I was with him, the kind that keeps leading me, again and again through the darkness. Sailing forward now, there is no more looking back, there is simply nothing left behind me, a new world awaits. 

When you’re out in the world today, practice showing kindness to your fellow humans. Not for anything in return, simply because, for no reason other than they are your sisters and your brothers and you want to help lift and heal the human race. When people look you in the eye, don’t flinch and turn away, like most of us do, so scared to see and be seen. This time, look back. Show them they are seen and loved. “I see you. I love you. I am you.” Do your part to remove the illusion of separation between us, the separation that breeds all that isolation and fear and sickness. Let others in, see them, let them see you. When you heal others, you heal yourself. There is no other, we are all one.

The Band, The Weight

Mumford & Sons - I Will Wait (Official Audio)Laurie Cabot: Monday, August 27: Wear Brown. Plan a party or a date. Carry a pebble you find.

DOITGIRL. So I went out to dinner with that man I used to date last night because I want to heal wounds and be mature and not blow up every bridge with men I dated or anyone in my experience/life. The more conscious we become the more behavior like that- holding grudges, anger, blame, hate even, aren’t in alinement with love, and we don’t feel healthy or whole when we behave this way. A friend of mine from Virginia texted while we were out, and I told her who I was with and she said, “So you dont burn bridges like me,” and I guess I was glad I hadn’t, only because that agony of “hating” someone and dreading seeing them or being pained to hear of them, that’s a much worse way to live [“the only thing harder than letting go is holding on”- lori mckenna] and I still have some of those wounds with my big ex, only the pain, the remorse, not the hating, not the hating. But I have burned a ton of bridges, I told my friend, ones I wished dearly that I’d kept, even if I couldn’t walk it the way I once did- frequently, met halfway in love, in intimacy, I didn’t have to torch it foevermore. Forever is a really long sad time when it means never talking to someone you loved ever again. I told her how I’ve not only burned bridges I should have kept, I’ve stormed the castle, set flame to everything in site. As soon as the rejection or betrayal happened I was like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter. SO Proud. SO hot-headed. SO victimized. We are each walking bodies of energy, and we can start an energy storm- dark or light- whereever we go, Our choice. Fear or Love. Anyway, so last night was mature but hard, I wanted to lean into him sometimes the way it used to be so easy, but I didn’t let myself, kept the wall up. And there was a time or two he was laughing and would lean to rest his head on mine but I froze up, still protective of myself. Our knees touched at times only because he’s so tall and we were folded into a tiny bartop table. We ate at this little tourist dive on the strip where we had eaten on our first date and we were all promise and mystery, so it was sort of a fitting bookend, and a blind man played piano right next to our table and it added to the melancoly of dinner with an old lover, and my heart was dove-tailing at the diligence and love of the seeing eye dog curled by the singer’s side and he was singing Otis Redding, lovelorn Otis Redding. And his silver-haired old friend in a dinner jacket showed up and sang deep baritone harmonies and sipped a glass of red wine. It was nice, there were moments where we were in sync and on the same page and moments we weren’t. The chemistry wasn’t there the way it was when I could show him affection with abandon, just a dull ache from me, I think. There was this moment too, where he started to ask about a mystical-looking ring around my neck and I started to tell him, but I said, “do you really want to know,” and then he decided he really didn’t- “no,” he said, shaking his head, laughing me off. We sort of threw a few jabs at each other, which doesn’t feel good, really, he once said “there was a lot of hurt between us,” and he was right. He definitely thinks my Goddess devotion is flaky and “not realistic.” That’s probably the thing that made me hurt the most, but anything that makes you question your beliefs is good because I find it ultimately strengthens them, havign to re-examine them from time to time is important, I think. But then as soon as I started to really relax and allow myself to enjoy the time, he looked down at his phone, said, “Oh we gotta go,” then he straightened his back, signaled the waitress and as we crossed the floor the blind man called goodbye to us in between versus. He felt us leaving, his energetic senses so heightened, “good night,” we called. Idling in my road we hugged goodbye, and I went in and got in bed and had to tell myself that someday I will meet someone who understands me completely, and loves me like shout-it-on-the-rooftops love, for who I am, not who I might be someday or who I once was. Not just for weekends or winter or stay-in-nights, either. The whole real deal again. I’ll feel one day the way I felt six years ago when I met my fiance in an Alphabet City Bar. Crash Bang Boom, done. Up all night talking in the dark, just holding hands and kissing, under a window in the moonlight, planning our whole lives together. [“We’ll get a dog.” “No, we’ll start with a cat.” “Both.” “Ok.” “And a truck-” “Yes! I’ve always wanted a truck!” “We’ll move downtown. A big apartment by the river.” “Sounds perfect.” ] I’ll feel that again. Me and this man, last night, we rode the carosuel by the sea, we went round and round together, going nowhere, getting nowhere in the air, and the creepy cranky old carnival music was playing, it was chilly, my cheeks were pink, and he had a tiny little girl in a pink tutu next to him and I was on a horse next to her warm and friendly mother, and we were reaching for the rings, you know the whole point is to get the brass one. And my friend was adamant to get it, he was pulling 3-4 rings at one time with his long gangly arms. He’s competitive. An Aries. Needs to own, win. It was hard enough for me to grab even one, but I managed to get one every time around. And finally, there it was, waiting for me at my turn, there was the brass ring. I got so excited, I couldnt believe it, I cried out in joy, and then it just slipped through my fingers. I dont know why Im stuck on that moment but I am, it felt like it was on freezeframe so I would really pay attention. My past life samscara, the source of pain I’ve carried since the beginning, is that I don’t finish things. I’m all talk, all promise. No delivery. People lose hope in me. I woke up with the ring slipping through my hands, that tiny terrible movie, playing over and over again in my head. It reminded me too much of all the promise Ive felt and pressure Ive felt for my potential in this life so far, that I can get so close to the brass ring but never quite grab it, like my wedding ring. I got so close to marrying a man I deeply loved. I got so close to having a family. I got so close to a very successful career in journalism. I got so close to finishing my last book, I had even had a great New York Editor. The last movie my fiance and I ever saw together was my hero Nora Ephron’s last movie before she died, Julie & Julia, and he had already called off the wedding we were just spending all this terrible limbo time together, still best friends, and everything was painful, knowing everything we did was for the last time, and when we walked out of the theater he was crying, I asked, “What’s wrong, besides the obvious?” and he said, “I want you to write your book, I want you to finish things, I want you to accomplish something,” and we were both crying. “I know how much you love Nora,” he said,” and how much these movies mean to you, you can do something like this, but… you don’t” he said. See, he knew me, saw me. To lose that is devastating. We were just sobbing in the hot Venice sun, on the sidewalk. And I’m crying again remembering it, remembering Tim and Nora, two forever lost loves. And I get so close to these men I have dated, i mean to close to somethign real, but like a fire I can start but not keep burning, like the book I cannot finish, like a yoga pose I can get into but not stay, it doesnt come true, I dont come true, we dont. That’s what that brass ring symbolized to me and even as we were walking back to his car, him laughing saying it was more fun that he’d thought it would be, I think he’s always suprised that he likes me, because he can only think about reasons why we don’t work- and we are so different, polar opposites, him solar me lunar, yin yang to the extreme. But as we were walking back I couldnt help but think he was thinking about me missing that ring and that paralled our story, that me and him just never came true— I didnt live up to my promise. And maybe that’s because I haven’t lived up to so many promises. The ring has slipped through my hands so many times. I’m so afraid of going around and round in life and never getting it. I’m so afraid of always getting so close and letting it slip through my hands.